Regret, Part 4

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Summary: A young man in college with a male pregnancy fetish pumps himself full of fertility medicine. He then purposefully gets pregnant by his boyfriend. As his belly grows, so does his discomfort, regret, and horror in realization that pregnancy is not all that he thought it would be. Conversely, his boyfriend's interest and fascination in male pregnancy grow, and he begins to first secretly, then blatantly attempt to do whatever he can do to make the lad's pregnant belly as big as possible. Idea submitted by NLH

Previous Chapter

-

Clink was slow that day after the morning rush. Elliott was tidying up, and it felt odd for Andrew to sit there and watch as Elliott wiped down counters and replaced filters on coffee machines. Where Elliott had been fast and nimble, he was now breathless and slow, and possibly even waddling a little.

But Andrew didn’t mention it. Suffice to say, it was a little uncomfortable for him to sit there sipping his latte. He felt as though he should have been helping Elliott. Then again, Elliott was the one at his job, not Andrew.

“You should at least take off your sweater,” Andrew mentioned as he admired the flush of Elliott’s cheeks.

The small coffee shop was nearly empty. There was just some guy at the other end of the bar, sipping black coffee while immersed in a phone call. Elliott’s coworker, Jeff, was taking one of his many smoke breaks in the alleyway outside.

Elliott looked up from washing a container, only to roll his eyes then go back to scrubbing.

“Everyone knows something’s up,” Andrew added. “The sweater’s not really hiding anything. And frankly, I don’t know why you’re still trying to hide it. Our parents already know.” Elliott’s shoulders stiffened, but Andrew kept talking. “And I thought we decided this was a happy thing.”

Of course, someone saying that they were happy, and actually being happy, were two very different things.

Elliott finished rinsing the container and unceremoniously dumped it into the drying rack. He finally turned back to face Andrew, lips twisted, expression thoughtful. “You’re right,” he said.

“I usually am,” Andrew quipped.

“It’s annoying,” Elliott retorted. “And just because something is logical doesn’t mean…I’m ready,” he mumbled, that lovely flush of his cheeks turning red.

“Elliott, I don’t think you even have that as an option. You’re...heh, you’re kind of showing.”

That was an understatement. Elliott sent him a death glare.

“El, you’re only torturing yourself. No one thinks you’re just fat anymore.”

That seemed to do the trick. Perhaps the idea of his coworkers thinking he had gotten fat was too much for him, because Elliott irritably pulled off the sweater.

And it didn’t make that substantial of a difference. Perhaps it removed that general bulkiness over his arms and torso, leaving it concentrated to that prominent bump under Elliott’s apron.

Elliott absently cupped the swell, his blush deepening, his hands still getting used to the feel of it. He had just grown so fast, and without time to properly adjust to his condition, and to steadily introduce it to the world. His own babies had given him an ultimatum.

God, Andrew was smitten. He could hardly take his eyes off Elliott.

“Oh my god,” someone blurted, startling the both of them. It was a blonde girl wearing too much makeup and carrying a pale pink purse. “Oh my gosh, are you pregnant?”

Andrew’s lips curled in amusement as Elliott went scarlet.

“Y-yeah,” Elliott stammered, his hands absently rubbing over the swell under his apron. “Yeah, it’s rare, but —”

“Oh my god!” she repeated, now taking out her cell phone, as though tempted to take a picture. But rightfully, she stopped herself. Then she just stared, looking both embarrassed and fascinated. “I mean, I’ve never seen — er — congratulations!”

“Right. Thanks,” Elliott responded, steadily getting over his surprise. Making new protocols in his mind for such unsolicited commentary as he gazed absently at the register, then returned his attention to the customer. “What can I get you?” he asked impassively.

Andrew sighed as he took another sip from his latte and looked down at the math assignment he was working on.

It was progress, he supposed.

Andrew immersed himself in his schoolwork for a while as customers filtered in, one by one. Sometimes he allowed himself the distraction of taking in people’s reactions to Elliott’s pregnancy. But most of the customers didn’t notice. The counter probably helped conceal the true extent of it, disappointing as that was to Andrew.

When Jeff returned from his smoke break, he just stared at Elliott for a while, and almost bumped into the espresso machine. He seemed pretty high and deemed not to speak. Elliott continued on like normal, making beverages and taking orders. He forced a smile whenever someone gawked at him, and otherwise kept busy.

He was putting in some extra shifts to compensate for the time off he’d requested for next weekend. Andrew was trying to get ahead on schoolwork. He felt antsy with excitement and nervousness over the many life changes coming their way.

They just had to take things one step at a time. Starting with next weekend.

It wasn’t hard for Andrew to get ahead in his coursework, even with the anticipated procrastination and distraction of doing it at the café. He couldn’t deny that he was a bit obsessed with Elliott these days. He was spending as much time as he could with him.

He liked watching Elliott interact with customers, drawing intricate designs across froth while adding his own little flare to menu items. He could bring the fun out of anything and anyone around him. It was just his nature.

Andrew liked watching Elliott snack freely on bites of bagel, pastry, cheese cubes, and cereal bars. He treated the workplace like his own personal pantry. It wasn’t as though Andrew didn’t see Jeff and the other baristas who worked there snack from time to time. But Elliott was taking it to another level. He didn’t even seem conscious of his actions or the fact that he was eating constantly.

And then there was the never-ending fappuccinos. “Non-caffeinated,”  Elliott had assured with a wink, though Andrew suspected he was sneaking a bit, if just by his peppiness.

The extra-large chocolate-caramel fappuccino barely got half-empty before Elliott was refilling it. Andrew had seen him do it several times already. Even Jeff had caught on, and topped Elliott off with some vanilla fappuccino leftover from a batch he'd made for some customers. Elliott didn’t seem to mind the mesh of flavors. He gave Jeff a side-smile and continued to suck on his straw.

Elliott had taken to completely ignoring the commentary that came on his condition, instead forcing a grin and staying on the topic of coffee beverages. He was on a crash-course for this new identity and stigma. He had come out as a pregnant male, and he was doing well despite his anxiety. It was better to do it now than later. Later he would be heavier, wearier, and maybe even emotional. God, what would he be like later?

Better to do this now. Bite the bullet and get it out of the way.

Elliott was doing something on the cash register as he continued to idly slurp on his non-caffeinated fappuccino with his free hand. He was taking a particularly long suck on the straw when suddenly his eyes widened, his fingers freezing over the buttons. He lowered his drink, his hands cupping his abdomen. “Excuse me,” he grunted to no one in particular, as he shuffled off to the back.

Immediately losing interest in everything else, Andrew returned his focus to his math equations. As minutes passed, the door chimed more and more, signaling the afternoon rush. Customer chatter and coffee orders became background noise around him.

“Crud,” Jeff groaned as several boxes of creamer tumbled out of his arms, making a mess on the floor.

Andrew looked around at the line of customers waiting to be served, several looking disgruntled.

“Where the hell is Elliott?” Jeff whined.

“I’ll go check,” Andrew said as he got up and ducked under the counter.

“Thanks man,” said Jeff as he fumbled with an icemaker.

Andrew took the door to the back and walked down the small corridor, until he reached the entrance to the employee bathroom. He knocked.

“Occupied!” Elliott called back.

“It’s me. You okay?”

The door opened. Andrew stepped inside and closed it behind him, now face-to-face with Elliott in the small restroom.

“What’s going on?” Andrew said. “You feeling sick again?”

“No, I’m fine,” Elliott quickly responded. “I guess I was just pigging out too much.”

Andrew gave a quizzical look to indicate that his boyfriend wasn’t making much sense at that moment.

“It’s stupid, it just…surprised me a little,” Elliott mumbled as he drew up his apron and the shirt he had on beneath it, revealing his round belly and…oh.

Andrew couldn’t help the giggle that came up his throat. “That’s it?” he said, reaching down to cup it. Elliott’s previously “innie” belly button was now protruding outwards. It was a telltale attribute of late pregnancy, even though Elliott had hardly touched the second trimester. “You’re adorable,” Andrew assured, pulling him close.

“Shut up," Elliott mumbled against Andrew's shirt.

-

Andrew almost couldn’t believe they did it. It was surprisingly simple, only taking a couple of hours.

They went to city court and got their marriage certificate done.

There was a lot of staring, but they got through it. Elliott was wearing a very plain women’s maternity blouse they had tweaked enough that it was now no different than a men’s button-down (albeit, with belly-room). Elliott was still so slim and narrow despite this belly. It was big enough to make him look six months pregnant.

Suffice to say, people were intrigued. One or two of them may have covertly snapped a photo. Andrew didn’t let any of that bother him.

Because, at the end of the day, they had gotten fucking married. The only thing left to do was celebrate.

“Just glad to get out of this thing,” Elliott groaned when they got home, fingers hurriedly unbuttoning the top of his shirt, then unhooking the clasps on his compression vest.

Andrew was rewarded when a pair of round breasts popped free. He watched the mounds wobble with Elliott’s heavy breathing. They were so full and perky. Perfect B-cups most women would be envious of.

“Fuck,” Elliott breathed, gripping a chair as he caught his breath.

Andrew nearly rolled his eyes. “No one’s forcing you to wear it.”

“I’m not getting married with boobs, Andrew.”

“You just did!”

Then suddenly both were laughing at the ridiculousness of the argument. And kissing. They started kissing, desperately.

“Fuck, we just got married,” Elliott murmured.

Andrew pulled him to the bedroom and helped him get out of the rest of his clothes.

And sure, they liked to fuck, but this time was just better somehow. Andrew’s chest to Elliott’s back, their hands cradling Elliott’s abdomen, Elliott’s tits bobbing, belly heaving — it was just so fucking hot.

Elliott’s body was getting so full and feminine. This rapid transformation made Andrew think of the things to come, of Elliott getting bigger and rounder. Andrew imagined making him even more pregnant. Of breeding Elliott like a bitch. Elliott would be a slut for Andrew. Packed full of Andrew.

“Nnnnghhh…uhhhhh…” Elliott groaned, tensing and arching as he gripped Andrew’s hands on his flanks. “Errrghhh…”

And Elliott was tightening up. His belly shivered, and ridiculously, Andrew thought it was getting a little bit fuller and just a tiny bit tighter.

They collapsed together, boneless and sweaty, limbs tangled as they tried to catch their breaths.

“You okay?” Andrew asked as he kissed his new spouse’s shoulder.

“Yeah, just…a little tense,” Elliott said, his hands rubbing circles on his stomach.

“El?” Andrew used his elbow to prop himself up.

“It’s fine, just feels…a little weird. Weird but good.” Elliott turned to face Andrew, offering a reassuring kiss.

After that, they kissed and cuddled, allowing their hands to indulgently wander along each other’s bodies. Andrew watched Elliott’s belly heave up and down with Elliott’s long, steady breaths.

“We can stop,” Andrew said, feeling himself getting revved up again.

“Don’t you dare,” Elliott responded, eyes dark and amorous. “You know how horny I’ve been lately.”

“Well, we have all weekend,” Andrew noted with a smile. They had taken four days. After all, it was their “honeymoon.”

-

Lasagna was Andrew’s specialty, largely because it was Elliott’s favorite. Andrew made a whole pan of it. He knew it was overkill, but he felt high on life. Everything felt light and airy. It was more than enough for the weekend, let alone a couple of weeks. They could always bring the leftovers to the local soup kitchen. Or maybe they could freeze some. What did it matter?

Elliott practically hung off of Andrew for the whole process of cooking it, touching and tickling him, kissing his nape. Elliott was wearing some briefs and a tank top he had outgrown a couple weeks ago, the material tight and clingy, barely covering half of his belly. His cleavage protruded over the neckline, his body flushed and ripe and so fucking sexy. Andrew just wanted to fuck him, but he held it together long enough to finish the food.

“Seems different this time,” Elliott reflected once they were both seated at the kitchen table with forks and knives.

There were no plates, just that deep pan of lasagna dominating the table. It was their honeymoon; there was no place for etiquette. Just food and fucking, and decadent indulgence, if just for those four days. It was a reprieve from real life – an opportunity to turn off their brains.

“I put in extra meat and cheese. Extra everything,” Andrew bragged.

“You’re extra.”

“Try it.”

Elliott did more than that. From the first bite, he was more than committed, eating ravenously, stuffing his face by the forkful. The display was so fascinating, Andrew just lowered his own utensils and watched.

“Fuck, this is good,” Elliott moaned, his free hand moving to cup his belly. “God, I’m stuffed, but I can’t stop eating. Why do you have to be such a good cook?”

“Why do you have to be so fucking hot?”

“Shut up,” Elliott said with a smile as he resumed stuffing his face.

It was like he couldn’t stop. He just ate continuously and mechanically, even starting to sweat and look pained. Andrew thought he should tell him to slow down, but he couldn’t. He just sat there and stared.

“God, these babies are so fucking greedy,” Elliott groaned as he paused to gasp and rub his greasy hands over his belly. He had gotten a quarter of the way through the pan. It must have been enough food to feed half a dozen people.

“You okay, El?” Andrew said, his mouth dry.

Elliott’s legs fidgeted. “I j-just…” he gasped. “Just one more bite.”

He resumed eating, possibly even faster, as if trying to force it down before he could stop himself. Before his body could protest enough that it started coming back up.

He got through another quarter of the pan before he finally had to stop, face strained as tears formed in the corners of his eyes. The tank top’s coverage looked even worse now.

“Ngghhhh…mmmghhh…” Elliott groaned as he clutched his belly, chest heaving, face red and panicked. “Babies…” he pleaded, his abdomen pulsating.

Andrew hurried to his side, rubbing his back, watching in fascination as Elliott’s belly tightened, visibly inching outwards.

“Errggghhh!” Elliott groaned, arching and spreading, struggling and sobbing.

Andrew couldn’t tear his eyes away.

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