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hiiii. Im a very ace trans guy with a wild pregnancy kink and also the most aromantic man alive. come, traveller, and look upon my knocked up transsexuals
[no DMs, please!!]
Hey you! Looking for more stories with knocked-up men? Like dark fantasy but wish it didn't hate women? Want to read about trans people doing unspeakable violence?
Introducing FIRST BLOOD, my original work with horned beasts, self-destruction, magicians, spirals into violence, swearing, a pregnant trans guy, overindulgence in semicolons, weird sex, elaborate metaphors, run-on sentences, too many fantasy titles, fucked-up blood magic, and no romance whatsoever, starring a trans guy with anger issues, what happens when you force an autistic closeted transfem into a fantasy kingdom, a foul-mouthed nonbinary magician, and a terminally optimistic knight.
Come for the mpreg, stay for the vague horror at the mpreg guy's descent into violent revenge!
Tiny teaser below:
In the first eighteen years of his life, it did not occur to Urien Lowe that he would suffer.Ā
This was a matter of grim oversight more than indicative of any idyllic upbringingāthough it was certainly a more comfortable one than most. He was First Blood of House Lowe, a lord-to-be of the country that tamed beasts and harnessed the wrath of angels. He was blessed, from the moment he was born, with a noble countenance, and a blazing path before him, and an unwavering certainty in his ability to follow it. He had of course hurt and been hurt, he had loathed and wept, fought and kicked, broken, screamed, lost, mourned, cringed, and even despaired, but he had never sunk so low he could not see, even from the depths of his woe, the quick climb out of the pit. And so when, in the years to follow, he was rent in pieces and strewn across the burning wreckage of his once-charmed life, he was regrettably unprepared.Ā
This is unrelated to almost anything but bear with me, I'm writing a story with an arranged marriage in which neither party wants to take part for different reasons (and they don't, ftr). The protagonist is transmasc and has no interest in being a """wife""" in a very gender restrictive social class, but I was stumped about the arranged husband. But then, like a beacon from the heavens you came across my dash sharing the word of aromantic characters and the puzzle peices clicked into place. He's just not about any of it. Mystery solved motivation secured I can move on with my story. So thank u for that I suppose lmao
If you need an Alan sequel about him being big, maybe him and thanksgiving with relatives who havenāt seen him in a while? Everyone getting obsessed with how big he is. How much heās grown and in so short a time
went in a slightly different direction with this one, hope u like it >:)
(CW: slight transphobia and antifatness and Uncomfortable Family Interactionsā¢ļø)
Alan had thoughtāpretty reasonably, he might argueāthat this would not be an issue.
First point: he was fat. Sure, this hadnāt stopped him from looking so obviously pregnant by the end you could tell from space last time, but generally, fat tended to hide a baby bump. Point two: he was hardly fourteen weeks along, just dipping his toe in the second trimester. Even his first enormous baby hadnāt stretched him out so much by that point that a well-chosen top and a couldnāt hide it, more or less. Point three: heād only given birth to said enormous baby about half a year ago. That gave him plausible deniability: he could still have a bit of a belly. By all rights, he should be able to get through this visit without anyone knowing.
But these twins just loved getting on his nerves.
āIs thisā¦ better? Worse?ā
Alan turned in front of his phone, propped up next to the mirror. A pile of rejected shirts sat next to him, and on the screen, his girlfriend tapped her lip. āMmm, turn to the side,ā she said.
He complied, and glanced in the mirror, pulling at the (nice, demure, boring, acceptable-to-relatives) shirt.
Tulipās voice came through the tinny phone speaker. āWell, this oneās cuter!ā
āTulip. Answer the question.ā
āI guess you lookā¦veeeeery slightlyā¦less pregnant. In this one.ā
Alan turned to the phone. āThis is hopeless, isnāt it.ā
In the mirror, his reflection stared back at him. The bottom hem of the shirt hung low enough to cover the band of his maternity pants, at least, which had already become a necessity at week ten. He couldnāt bindānot while he was still breastfeeding, and itād hurt like a bitch right now anywayāand they pulled at the shirt, heavy and swollen. And yet they still werenāt enough to direct any attention away from his middle.
He looked, without any semblance of doubt, extremely goddamn pregnant.
Pregnant enough to pop, on some people, but heād been around this size at the tail end of the second trimester last time. Round, stretched, and taut, clearly heavy with something inside. He could pull on the loosest, boxiest clothes he had, and this belly would poke through clear as day.
But he had to get through this. He could hear the rumbling of voices from downstairs, the crowd of people waiting to see him emerge. And he was not about to walk downstairs for his family Christmas party looking like this.Ā
So he grit his teeth, and sucked in his gut.
To say Alan was the black sheep of the family was an understatement. He was more like the rainbow-colored zebra holding a burning American flag who inexplicably got mixed in with the shepherdās herd. His parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles were all the type of moderate-to-Democrat who loved beige and insisted that unions were a ācomplicated issue.ā Alanās mom had an actual ālive, laugh, loveā sign in the bathroom.Ā
Meanwhile, Alan was a raging polyamorous bisexual trans man with pink hair and pronouns who had literally given birth to a demon. Out of wedlock, no less.
A knock came at the door, and Alan took a breath and opened it. He let it out when he saw who it was.
āHey,ā said his brother. Avery (the only cis Avery, Alan liked to joke) peeked around the corner, voice hushed. āHowās Benny?ā
āOh, I got him down an hour ago. Iām just using him as an excuse to hide up here.ā
Avery nodded. āWise. Well, unfortunately, youāre gonna have to come down. I am literally fighting to the death trying to keep these people from storming up here to see the āprecious little baby and his daddy.ā I think Aunt Mabel is going to knife me.ā He flicked his eyes up and down. āNice shirt. You look appropriately lame.ā
āI look pregnant,ā Alan mumbled. āThereās no way everyone doesnāt figure it out immediately, right?ā He realized he was unconsciously leaning over, trying to obscure his middle. Even the slight bend made him feel like his organs were in a juicer.
āListen, Iāve done my part. Your turn now, oh master of disguise.ā
āShut up.ā
āNo, but, seriously, if anyoneās a dick about itā¦ā
āIāll send all dicks your way,ā Alan said, nodding appreciatively. Alanās older brother was more or less the only reason Alan had any contact with the family at all. Heād been Alanās number one support for as long as he could remember, always making it extremely clear that he would take no shit. Mainly through the standard policy of āif you are transphobic/homophobic/fatphobic/an asshole to me and my brother you will never see us or his adorable baby again.ā
Which went a long way, but unfortunately it was apparently impossible to keep them from just being fucking weird about it all. Which was why Avery was also the only person here who knew Alan was pregnant again. Including their parents.
Closing the door gently behind him, Alan slipped into the narrow hallway, the sounds of a small crowd bubbling up from downstairs.
āAre Mom and Dad back yet?ā Alan asked.
āNope. I think theyāll be back soon, though.ā Theyād gone the long round trip to pick up an aunt, and Alan had arrived after theyād left. He would have vastly preferred an awkward airport pickup reveal over seeing them in front of their entire extended family, but here they were.
There was a landing in the middle of the staircase, so stage-like in its position that Avery and Alan used to put on āplaysā there as little kids. And there, as Alan walked out on display, the entire crown of relatives looked up. And literally went silent.
Alan took about a half second to think, I thought this shit only happens in movies. He felt his lungs crushed against his spine, pulling his stomach muscles as tight as he could get them, and panicked. He was an idiot, of course they could still tell, of course they would clock it, why else would they be staringāand then he took another half second to remember that most of these people hadnāt seen him since his last pregnancy made him grow fucking demon horns and a tail.
āAlan!ā his Aunt Laura cried, flinging her arms wide and somehow not spilling a drop of her wine. She set it down, rushing to hug him at the bottom of the stairs. He tried to act normal, ignoring how his bump pressed into her stomach. Laura tapped a horn. āWow, these are cute! So is this a new trend? Little horns like these? I always like hearing what you kids are into.ā
āUm,ā Alan said. āTheyāreāā
āAlan, my man, come here!ā Uncle Reg clapped him on the shoulder and gave him the most repressed masculine man hug Alan had ever experienced. Greeeat. Gender affirmation from Uncle Reg. āHow the hell are ya, kid?ā
āDonāt call him kid, heās a moāI mean, heās a father now!ā Aunt Mabel, Regās wife, wormed in, holding a cocktail in a manicured hand with the single most boring bracelet Alan had ever seen around her wrist. āWhereās the baby?ā
āHeās asleep,ā Alan said.āIāll have to feed him in a couple hours, maybe I can bring him downāā
He was interrupted by being crushed to death. Once all the air finished exiting his already cramped lungs, his grandmother released him and kissed his cheeks. It was astonishing how old ladies managed to do that in a way that somehow hurt. āAlan, honey! So good to see you. Hair still pink, huh?ā She laughed, and then tapped a horn. āOh, itās a shame about these, isnāt it. Have you tried clipping them off?ā
āGrandma,ā Avery said, warning. Before Alan could explain that not only would that probably hurt quite a lot as he could feel them, he also liked them, she put her hands on his shoulders and stepped back.
āNow let me have a look at you.ā Alan stood stock still as she gave him a once-over. He stood up straighter, pulling his stomach in enough to feel light-headed. Maybe it wasnāt as bad as he thought, butā¦oh no, why was she squinting her eyesā
āYou look great!ā Mabel said, rushing in to cover whatever his grandmother was queuing up.Ā āI mean, you look more awake than I ever did with a six-month-old. And donāt worry, the baby weightāll just drop off you eventually. I can show you some exercises I didāā
āSo are youā¦ breastfeeding?ā Reg jumped in, possibly in response to Averyās donāt make me give you a three-hour lecture on antifatness look. (He was bigger than Alan, and took no shit about it.) āOr, sorry, Iām supposed to call it chestfeeding, right?ā
On the list of things Alan did not want to discuss with a guy who had an actual āman caveā in his basement, breasfeeding and politically correct terminology were probably in the top ten. Yet Reg persisted, with an expression of comedic discomfort. āMust be pretty weird as, you know, as a guy, right?ā
āHah! Look at you, Alan, you still look pregnant!ā Yet another voice entered before Alan could respond. The warbling old voice of Alanās grandfather still managed to drown out anyone else in the room. He laughed, and clapped Alan on the shoulder. āOh, that is delightful, just like your grandmother. You should have seen her, people thought Iād knocked her up again for nearly a year after your mother was born!ā
āOh, but it wasnāt like this,ā his grandmother said, smiling. āI donāt think I ever had a belly like this while I was pregnant!ā She laughed, and waved a hand. āOh, Iām just teasing you, Alan.ā
āOof, imagine!ā Reg laughed. āHaving another baby right after your first? I would have died. Mostly since Mags would have killed me, hah!ā
āMom. Dad,ā Laura said, ignoring her brother, āHe does not look pregnant. Everyone has a bit of a belly after giving birth. We donāt body shame, remember?ā
āWell, of course heās got belly some left over, the baby was huge, right? Your dad told me he was eleven pounds! I canāt imagine what you looked likeāā Mabel said.
āOh my god, really?ā Lauraās brief enlightenment evaporated, and she turned wide-eyed to Alan. āEleven? Did you have a c-section?ā
At this point Alan was having a bit of trouble following the conversation. Both because everyone kept talking over each other, and because he was starting to feel slightly lightheaded. Boy, he would really love that lung space back. He blinked himself back into focus. āUm, no, I didnāt.ā
āAhh!!ā Laura waved her hands, and Mabel clapped a hand to her chest behind her. āOh, you have to tell me all about it, I love hearing everyoneās birth storiesāhave I ever told you about how when June was born, she almostāā
The rest of the story (which Alan had absolutely heard before, multiple times, in great detail, while he was preparing to give birth himself, which was just super fun and helpful) was cut off by the sound of a door, a sing-song āhelloo-oo!ā and a chorus of exclamations. Alanās parents were home.
In the brief moment of distraction, Avery leaned over. āIām going to kill our entire family,ā he muttered.
āWe can take them together,ā Alan whispered back. āExcept I might pass out first.ā
Alan guessed that he had about sixty seconds until his parents rushed over to see their beloved boy. Theyād always been clingy, but becoming grandparents had apparently turned their blood into pure sugary mush. He tried not to breathe.
And, of course, everyone just happened to scatter into the perfect position to make a clearing between him and Avery and their parents, so that the first thing they saw when they walked into the room was him, still standing at the foot of the stairs. They entered, looked right at him, and stared.
Alan felt his ears burn. The rest of the family hadnāt seen him, at least not since the early summer when a few had come to meet the newborn. But heād seen his parents just over a month ago, at Thanksgiving, when he had very plainly not looked like heād swallowed a watermelon. Just keep holding it in. Do NOT relax. Itās just one night. You donāt have to breathe all the time, youāre just being greedy.
āOh, Alan!ā his mom said, rushing over to hug him, his dad right behind. And, to Alanās dismay, she looked right down at his belly, as flat as he could possibly get it, and back up at him. āAlan, are youāyouāre notāā
āMomā¦ā he grimaced.
āAlan, are you pregnant again?ā his dad asked, loud enough that everyone else in the room fell silent.
Next to him, Avery gave him a look. Sorry, bud.
āUm,ā Alan said, face heating, looking around at the dozen faces locked on his. He sighed, exhaling, and, finally, finally, relaxed his stomach. A chorus of gasps rose from the assorted aunts and uncles as his belly extended, as if by magic, swelling up like the round, heavy bump it was. He put his hands on his middle, turned so everyone could see its full, glorious curve, and said, with a funerary air, āā¦surprise!ā
omg i just had a very brief but beautiful dream that Ruta was in labor and Urien was trying to get her into a heavily armed fortress to get to a doctor... thank u dream that is delicious
anon s (that plural one) again. as a host im very private, and although im mainly the one enjoying your work we have a headmate, meryl, who manifested in the headspace pregnant and believes us to be although we very much aren't haha. she even goes through nesting, cravings, the lot.
obviously its a tricky thing to accomodate, but she takes a huge amount of comfort and joy in your work. feels seen and related to by it, it makes her very happy. ruta is her favourite, the way you draw her tickles her very much. i thought you may appreciate this, i apologise if its a bit too much information haha. regardless hope you are having a good day :-]
(could have sworn I answered this already tumblr ur so fucked)
THATS REALLY SWEET THANK YOU FOR TELLING ME <3<3<3 This would make Ruta so happy to hear :'] also Meryl is a really good name
Victor Frankenstein after achieving the impossible and building a fucking person from scraps of the dead: Oh god, ew, ew it's ugly! Yucky! Yucky! Gross! Ew! Ew! Yucky! Yucky! Gross! Ew!
I just wanna say your writing is so fucking good!!! Itās incredibly funny, which is something Iāve literally never seen from horny work before. Itās so snappy, so funny and so realistic that I was frankly shocked reading it! Keep up the great work!
[I AM SO BAD AT ANSWERING ASKS IN A TIMELY FASHION FORGIVE ME]
THANK UUUU *CRIES* I am so glad you appreciate it :ā] Comedy is something that comes a lot easier to me than horny shit honestly, and I also think itās very grounding. I think a lot of people just do not realize how much theyāre constraining themselves to the expectations of a certain genre or style. But there are no rules and you must do all things crazy style according to your heart. Iāve been having so much fun writing this past year and Iām so glad people enjoy it <3
