Political, Part 4

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Summary: A politician's scandal about a pregnant mistress breaks shortly after passing some misogynistic legislation. He soon finds a new mistress however their first date ends very unexpectedly. After a period where he can't figure out why he is constantly either stuffing his face or nauseous it occurs to him that his swelling chest, new potbelly, and widening hips may be more than just some stress-eating. Due to his legislation he is stuck carrying but once he starts to campaign for re-election something interesting happens. Despite his growing disgust with his radically changing body the bigger he grows and the rounder he gets the better he polls. Contains: Feminization, Mpreg, Weight gain. Idea by will taft.

This story is a work of fiction. As specified throughout the story, all characters featured in this work are 18 years of age or older.

Previous Chapter

-

Justin knew he was cutting it close.

He’d had to rebook his appointment abroad three times.

With all the things coming up on his calendar, he’d even had to push the rally. Between hormones, the brain fog, and his rapidly depleting energy levels, it was getting difficult to keep up with things.

His free time was nonexistent – Justin went from conferences, to hotels, to his office. Once he stopped to think about it, he realized that he hadn’t been home for at least a week.

On the upside, his campaign was going well. He was polling several points ahead of his closest opponents. With all the traction he was gaining, Justin simply could not slow down.

Everything unrelated to the campaign was automatically relegated to being a distraction. Even things like his freak pregnancy and how his body was increasingly changing.

But his condition came into sharp focus in the minutes of privacy before he fell asleep. Or sometimes when he was getting showered and dressed, or had a fleeting confrontation with his bathroom mirror, at which point his heart plunged and he tugged uneasily at his clothing, wondering when he’d gotten so big, or if anyone had noticed.

The growth was really picking up, it seemed.

And then one morning Justin woke up and realized the following day was his cutoff for the procedure.

He felt a stab of panic. It was that same fleeting panic he felt whenever he allowed himself to think about anything related to the pregnancy.

He had procrastinated and put it off for so long, it might have exacerbated the issue. Justin knew he had to deal with this now. Today.

Still, he was cutting it way too close. Though his face was plastered with an artificial grin, Justin was silently cursing.

The crowd couldn’t tell either way. It must have been 50,000 people, all of them cheering, some chanting his name. He had just finished up his rally in Bakersville, and was desperate to get off the stage.

Things had gone surprisingly well. His audience was mostly conservative men. Everyone was applauding enthusiastically, a few even shedding tears. And a fight had even broken out. The news coverage was sure to be generous.

Justin had made sure to shout everything in a declarative way like a pro wrestler, aggressively feigning enthusiasm he could barely even muster. Portraying himself as a candidate who was young energetic, strong and manly. Someone was was somehow different from the others (he certainly was). And the crowd had eaten it up.

Justin knew the outcome of this rally could make or break his campaign. He continued to grin and wave, panting and sweating in the baggy suit he had on. The compression vest he was wearing under it was strangling the life out of him.

Justin couldn’t wait any longer. He gave a nod to his handlers, before he and his entourage headed off the stage, Justin keeping his head down in hopes of disappearing in his crowd of advisors.

Justin moved as quickly as his weary, somewhat unbalanced, body would allow. His people mirrored his pace. Justin didn’t stop for autographs as scheduled, his fans screaming in protest, some reaching out against the barricades as he hurried past. News cameras also followed his movements. But any press was good press, and he didn’t have time for this.

He got inside the stadium building, inhaling in relief as cool air washed over him. An intern followed him all the way to his private suite, enthusiastically yammering about his performance as she clutched a tablet. Justin glanced back at Vincent and the other security guard flanking him. “Can I have five minutes?”

They nodded.

The intern was oblivious. “Sir, you’re going viral. People love that thing you said about how women need to be pushed out of corporate settings. And how non-binary people are just deranged hobbyists. The social media engagement is off the—”

Justin shut the door in her face.

He wondered if he was becoming one of the freaks he despised so publicly.

Justin sagged. Now that he was alone, he no longer had to hide how weary he was. He just needed some peace and silence, and didn’t even bother to turn on the lights, instead enjoying how the dimness eased his headache somewhat.

Justin dragged himself over to the mahogany writing desk, slumping down into the chair there. He thought of the irony of the things he had declared during the rally: his contempt for trans people, his hatred for abortion, and his disgust with women striving for anything that wasn’t homemaking. He emphasized the old ideals. ‘Women were born with the remarkable ability to bring life, yet we are taking that for granted as a society, and our birthrates are plummeting. How are our children no longer a priority!?’

The applause was deafening, people screaming his name. It had gone on for so long, his ears had started ringing.

It was what his constituents wanted. Justin was trying to bring back the old values.

Yet here he was: a living contradiction. And if anyone found out, his whole career would be over.

His back was stinging, his hand cupping the side of the abominable curve. It just felt so tight, so uncomfortable. Justin grimaced and struggled with his suit, undoing the buttons, pulling off his shirt.

He dragged up his compression vest, panting as he steadily freed himself, feeling his belly pop out and his lungs expand. He finally pulled it up over his head.

Justin winced when he looked down at himself. At his round belly and the small, but plump, perky breasts sitting on his chest. He looked at the bandage on his sweaty navel that was starting to peel away. He used the bandages in an effort to smooth the appearance of his protruding belly button.

Justin’s naked body could have been mistaken for that of a woman. He grimaced down at himself in disgust of what he had become. His hand tentatively pressed into the curve, exploring the firmness. Obstructive and unmalleable. He realized he looked practically the way his wife had when she was nearly five months pregnant. “Christ,” Justin muttered under his breath.

He pulled a bottle of scotch off a shelf built into the wall, and poured himself a drink. He had nearly brought the glass to his lips when he froze, then frowned. He lowered the cup, sighing.

Someone knocked on the door. “Sir, sorry to bother you, but you’re running late for your flight, sir,” came the intern’s nervous voice.

Justin checked his watch and cursed.

He got up and went to the bed in the corner, where the outfit he was planning to wear to the airport was folded neatly on the edge. It was a T-shirt, a baggy sweatshirt, and some trousers with an elastic waistband. Knowing it was going to be positively stifling, he pulled it on, hoping it was loose enough that no one would notice his protruding abdomen. Justin knew it was unwise to abandon the compression vest, but he couldn’t bear the thought of having to wear it for several hours in the airport and then during a ten hour flight to Europe.

The trip was highly secretive, with only his top advisers knowing about it. And even then, most had been informed he was just attending an international political conference. Only Vincent and a few others knew what Justin’s true intentions were.

Justin had his driver take him straight to the airport. He nearly popped a blood vessel when they got caught in traffic for an excruciating twenty minutes.

He was rushed through the airport, swarmed with staff members, but only Vincent and Teresa were allowed past security with him. The three were racing to the gate, Justin breathing heavily, sweating like a fucking pig. He could not miss this flight. His whole life would be over if he did.

“Open the gate,” Justin demanded of the airline staff member when they arrived to the horror of a closed gate and scarcely populated waiting area.

“Mr. Foster?” the staff member responded, as Justin puffed out breaths, his face red as his hand clutched a stitch in his side. “We paged you several times. I’m sorry sir, you’re going to have to catch the next flight.”

“When is it?” Teresa inquired calmly.

The worker glanced down at his computer screen, typing a few keys. “About twelve hours.”

“Can you just open the gate!?” said Justin in rising panic.

Some of the people lined up at the neighboring gate were glancing over. There were whispers. “Is that the governor?” someone muttered. Another person pulled out a phone and started recording.

“I’m sorry sir, the plane is already on the runway.”

“Then turn it around!”

“Justin…” said Teresa levelly. She pointedly nodded towards their onlookers.

Justin’s pulse was pounding in his ears. Twelve hours. He rapidly calculated. He factored in customs, baggage claim, the time difference – everything. No, it wasn’t enough time. He couldn’t afford to wait twelve hours to start flying.

“The airport hotel is just off the air train,” the airline worker went on.

“Justin, let’s go. You need to rest anyway,” Teresa urged.

Numbly, Justin allowed her and Vincent to usher him away.

-

Sometimes Justin imagined how things would have gone if he had waited the twelve hours and caught the late flight abroad.

He would have insisted on a skeleton crew at the hospital, ensuring the minimum number of people had the minimum amount of information about his secret. He would have pulled every string he could, using every bit of leverage to convince them to follow through with the procedure. Even though it was past the legal deadline to do it.

They would insist they couldn’t, telling him it would open the hospital up to drastic legal issues.

Too many people would have gotten involved as he went up the hierarchy, searching for someone who would authorize his fucking abortion.

Justin knew he had made the right choice in staying stateside.

As he sat at the desk in his home office, staring at the black screen of his laptop, he came to the dazzling realization that he was going to have these babies on the world stage.

He felt numb. A rush of denial. No. Impossible. He couldn’t just — he wouldn’t do it.

He could drop out of the campaign, but there was too much at stake. Hundreds of jobs would be lost, people working tirelessly on his staff and the newcomers working his campaign night and day. All his donors would demand reimbursement of funds he no longer had. He would have to answer to all the politicians who had endorsed him. Justin would be an embarrassment; never be able to show his face in public again. He doubted even McPatty’s would hire him to flip burgers after his reputational collapse.

“What can I do to…get rid of them?” Justin asked his AI chatbot.

There was barely a pause, then the AI responded, As you are experiencing not only a male pregnancy, but one involving multiples, your condition is exceptionally rare, if not unprecedented. I could find no other documented cases. In this situation, it is important to maintain a healthy lifestyle and get regular checkups. Trying to end the pregnancy at this stage can result in a medical emergency or even death. Please consult with a healthcare provider for additional information.

Justin placed his head in his hands. It was useless.

He was having these things.

-

There was scarcely a moment Nora didn’t have a disgusted look on her face. When he was at home, it was admittedly difficult for Justin to hide his “weight gain.”

“Daddy’s getting fat,” Jack would giggle at dinner when Nora pointedly gave Justin a smaller serving than everyone else.

“Don’t be rude,” Nora snapped as Justin grimaced through a mouthful of food.

The kid did have a point. Justin was growing rapidly and couldn’t seem to stop eating. He had done some research, and apparently it was a male pregnancy thing. As men naturally had lower fat stores than women, their appetites became insane when they were carrying.

On top of that, Justin had finally stopped suffering morning sickness, but now couldn’t seem to stop peeing. He felt like he was running to the bathroom at least once an hour. He knew Nora and his older kids were starting to get suspicious.