Regret, Part 7

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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

-

“What happened to the couch cushions?” Andrew’s father, Stuart, wanted to know.

“Elliott needed them,” Andrew responded with a shrug. He had been summoned to the garage for a private conversation with his parents.

Stuart looked irritated. “And there’s no food in the house. Your mother just went grocery shopping on Wednesday.”

Andrew winced. “Guys…”

Martha gave a tight smile but refrained from speaking.

“We already had four mouths to feed, but your boy seems to eat more than all of us combined!” Stuart ranted.

“Jesus dad, he’s pregnant!” Andrew snapped. “With your grandkids. You act like he’s doing this on purpose.” It was true that Elliott needed things, and sometimes it was awkward to ask. It didn’t seem like a big deal to take extra pillows, food, or blankets. Clearly the rest of the family didn’t care about the resources it took for Elliott to do what he was doing.

“This is getting ridiculous. What’s the plan, Andrew?” Stuart demanded.

“I don’t know, we’re just trying to get on our feet,” Andrew said.

“How?”

Andrew had nothing.

“We don’t have room for five more,” Martha finally spoke, timidly. “We just can’t afford it, Andrew. And who’s going to take care of the babies when they come? Your father and I have jobs, and you two have college.”

“We’ll figure something out…” was all that Andrew could come up with.

Stuart snorted. “This isn’t going to work.”

“What do you want me to say?” Andrew said in frustration.

“That boy looks like he’s about to pop,” Stewart went on.

This statement caused Andrew an unexpected and embarrassingreaction that clashed with the rising emotions. He felt heat shoot to his loins, but did his best to keep his composure. “He’s not as far along as he looks,” Andrew managed.

“What the hell did that boy drag you into? It’s not fair to us or you.”

“What do you want me to do, cut Elliott loose?” Andrew said sarcastically, throwing his arms up in defeat. There was a pause, his mother frowning at him as his father glared. Andrew couldn’t believe this. “That’s never going to happen,” he said hotly.

“Well, this isn’t working,” said Martha.

“So now what? You gonna kick us out?” Andrew said.

His parents looked like they were actually considering it. “You need to have a plan,” Stewart said. “You’re running out of time. That kid is practically inflating. Figure this out!”

“We’re working on it,” Andrew said. “Just give us a little fucking time.”

“Language!” his mother scolded.

But Andrew had already turned away and started walking into the house. He hardly managed to resist the urge to slam the door shut behind him.

-

Andrew went to the campus library on the weekend, if just to get out of his parents’ house.

Elliott also found something to do, volunteering to cover a call-out at Clink. In the evening, Andrew left campus and swung by the café to pick Elliott up. He made sure to be there an hour early so that he could have a seat and enjoy his customary free drink.

“Surprise me,” Andrew said as he slid into a stool at the bar.

Andrew winked when Elliott noticed him. Elliott rolled his eyes. “You asked for it,” he said with a half-smile.

The place was empty at this time, Elliott being the only employee still there. He would be closing that night, and then he’d have to spend an hour doing clean-up before they could go home.

Andrew had brought a book, but it was left forgotten as he watched his husband work. Elliott’s movements were slow and careful as he waddled around behind the counter. His heavier-than-normal breathing should have made Andrew feel guilty.

On the contrary, Andrew couldn’t help enjoying it. He liked the way Elliott bit his lip or scrunched his face, sometimes reaching down with one hand to cup his swollen abdomen. Every bit that he struggled was entirely hotfor some reason. It was demented, but Andrew loved it. Elliott was full of Andrew. Andrew had done this to him, and Elliott was blowing up.

By then, nothing could hide Elliott’s ongoing transformation. He was only five months along, but he looked eight. Even with the apron hanging over his chest, his C-cup breasts could not be hidden. Elliott looked as though he could give birth at any moment. And to think, this was still only the beginning.

Andrew came out of his reverie as Elliott set a large mug in front of him. Elliott was panting quietly while looking at Andrew expectantly.

Andrew pulled the beverage closer and took a sip. “Not bad,” he muttered, smiling in appreciation of the hot, frothy beverage, with just a hint of sweetness. He took another sip, then paused to ask, “This isn’t caffeinated, right?”

“Why would I want to keep you up?” Elliott countered huskily as he leaned closer.

Andrew gulped.

The door jingled. Elliott glanced up, his body going straight and stiff as he stared at whomever had entered.

Andrew turned in his seat out of curiosity, to see two men entering the café, one of them absurdly attractive — it was that model guy. Gavin, Andrew recalled after a moment.

Gavin was accompanied by a dark-haired man with a bristly face. They were all chuckles and smiles as they approach the counter, Gavin looking up to greet Elliott. “Good to see you again. I’d like…” Gavin trailed off to stare, his companion’s eyebrows raising.

Elliott looked mortified. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, struggling to produce words. “I’ve been…shopping from your catalog,” he joked, with a pained grin.

Which wasn’t true. They couldn’t afford any of the catalog items. Andrew wasn’t even sure that Elliott would be able to fit into their modest size offerings.

“I can see…” Gavin responded after a pause, awkwardly smiling back. “Jeffrey, this is — a fan. Of the Z catalogue. Sorry, your name was—?”

“Elliott,” he managed, his voice brittle. Elliott gestured to Andrew. “A-and t-this is —”

“Andrew,” Andrew said, standing up to offer the visitors his hand. They shook it, in turn. The quartet fell into awkward silence.

“Well — wow,” Jeffrey said. He looked older than the rest of them: late thirties or early forties. “Male pregnancy is so hidden away. It seems rarer than it is. You must he really happy.”

Elliott’s face was pink. “Yes, I uh…what can I get you?” he managed, looking miserable.

As though to end his suffering, Gavin ordered drinks for both himself and Jeffrey, Elliott scribbling the order down on a scrap of receipt paper. Jeffrey had taken to gazing at Elliott’s belly, a thoughtful look on his face.

Elliott seemed grateful for the distraction of preparing the beverages. A few moments later, he was offering the two drinks to Gavin and Jeffrey in disposable coffee cups.

“Thanks,” Gavin said as he accepted his drink, now looking amused as he gave Jeffrey a look.

Jeffrey hadn’t noticed. He was looking at Elliott in earnest. “So you’re a fan of Z? How about Maleternity?”

“Yeah,” Elliott said unconvincingly. He had actually stopped reading all of his favorite male pregnancy magazines shortly into his discovery of what it was actuallylike to be a pregnant man.

“I’m an editor on both,” Jeffrey said. “Have you ever considered modeling?”

Elliott blinked. “Me?” he said in disbelief.

Jeffrey opened his wallet, retrieving a card. “Think about it,” he said as he handed it to Elliott. “We have a shoot next week. Nothing is guaranteed to make it to publishing, but you get paid for your time with the possibility of royalties.”

Gavin was giving Jeffrey an odd look. Elliott just seemed stunned.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Elliott,” Jeffrey said, a certain intensity in his eyes. “And you too, Andrew,” he added, finally tearing his gaze away from Elliott’s.

Gavin offered a nod and a thin smile as he and Jeffrey turned for the door. The model was whispering something to the other man as the door jingled and swung shut behind them.

“Wow,” Andrew said in bemusement. He took a swig of his drink, which had cooled to the point that it was no longer scalding. The perfect temperature for consumption.

Elliott was blushing cutely. “Why would they want me?” he said. He opened a drawer and pulled out a rumpled magazine with water stains on it. It must have been part of his forgotten stash kept at the café. Elliott smoothed it out against the counter, gazing at the apathetic model on the cover, his prosthetic belly a gentle curve that made him look no more than five months along.

“Because you’re smoking,” Andrew teased.

“Shut up,” Elliott said, his blush deepening as he shoved the magazine back into the drawer of miscellaneous things. He then waddled out from behind the counter, now gripping a key ring. He locked up the front door, flipped the sign hanging there to CLOSED, and started shutting the blinds.

“You’re more authentic than any of those other guys,” Andrew said as he came up behind him. “They’re not even pregnant. And you have five in here.” Andrew wrapped his arms around Elliott to cup his belly.

Elliott winced. “It’s like I’m being bred,” he scoffed. “I’m a fucking farm animal.” Andrew felt a shock of arousal. Elliott pulled himself free from him arms, not seeming to have noticed. “Time to clean up,” Elliot said bitterly.

“I can help,” Andrew offered.

“That’s not even a question,” Elliott said with a glare. “Mr-likes-it-raw.”

It was Andrew’s turn to blush. He started to sputter, “It was your idea to —”

“Shut up Andrew.” Elliot shoved a broom into his hands.

Clean up after closing typically took an hour for one person, but Andrew imagined that it would take Elliott triple that amount of time on his own, given his condition. With Andrew’s help, they should be able to finish on time, if not early.

Of course, Elliott retired from his duties within ten minutes, opting to relax at a table. His apron was discarded on the back of a chair.

Andrew threw him an amused glance as he busily wiped down counters. “What have you got there?”

It looked like Elliott had ransacked the kitchen, the table in front of him piled high with packaged sandwiches, pastries, mini bagels, and cheese cubes. Andrew wasn’t certain that it was wise for Elliott to burglarize his own place of employment.

“Leftovers,” Elliott said simply as he tore open a baguette sandwich.

Andrew tilted his head in question.

“The mandate is that we dispose of leftover food at the end of every day,” Elliott elaborated. “So it’s kind of fair game for whoever’s closing.”

“Nice,” Andrew said. He was still surprised by the sheer number of leftovers, but corporations weren’t unknown for their wastefulness. Clinkwas just part of the chain.

As Andrew continued to clean, he thought of all the late night food-runs he had been doing lately. He’d nearly drained the rest of his financial aid and his modest scholarship with all the money had been spending to sate Elliott’s voracious appetite and cravings.

“Maybe you can pick up a few more evening shifts.”

Elliott gave him a narrow look, now biting into a large chocolate cupcake. “Yeah, it’s a nice little bonus I guess,” he said, his voice muffled and cheeks bulging. “Just junk though.”

“Who cares? We can take it home.”

Elliott’s response was the hum of him eating more food.

Andrew finished washing the dishes before strolling into the seating area and plopping down in the seat opposite Elliott, noting that the mountain of packaged food had lowered significantly.

“I wanted to be cute like those models,” Elliott lamented between bites. “Now I’m just a pig.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Andrew quipped. Elliott rolled his eyes. “And you look great,” he added, drinking his husband in. He felt a sense of thrill that grew with every bite Elliott took.

Elliot’s belly was so big, the rest of him comparatively small. He grew flushed, panting as his belly heaved. He moaned and stuffed a handful of cheddar cheese cubes into his mouth, his face scrunching into a grimace.

“One more bite,” Andrew urged.

Elliott swallowed with effort, clutching his abdomen as he gasped for breath, looking nauseous.

Andrew lifted a croissant, ripping the packaging apart before he raised it up to Elliott’s mouth.

“C-can’t,” Elliott choked.

“Eat it, Elliott. Think of the babies.”

Arduously, Elliott consumed the croissant, followed by the two cheese danishes Andrew handed him, and then a mini-bagel as well. His face was red, his forehead beaded with sweat.

“One more bite,” Andrew repeated, now standing beside Elliott as he helped stuff a blueberry muffin into his mouth.

Elliott was squirming. He looked truly pained as he forced it down, his eyes tearing in the corners.

“Only a little left—”

“EERRGHHHHH!” Elliott grunted, arching and clutching his abdomen, which looked to be shuddering.

—And growing. It was inching forward, pushing out. The apron was getting tighter, strings pulling apart. Elliott rubbed his belly desperately as he groaned and huffed, spreading his thighs and leaning forward, tears rolling down his cheeks. He hung his head, making a gagging sound. His belly jerked, causing him to grunt out, arching again. His belly was flushed and swollen where it had started to push out beneath the hem of Elliott’s straining shirt.

“Easy…” Andrew comforted, rubbing Elliott’s shoulder, his eyes glued to his husband’s swell.

“Oh god, oh god,” Elliott gasped out, his rigid fingers clinging to Andrew’s shirt. “The—the babies!” he choked in violation, as though his quints were some insidious villain. His body shook.

Andrew simply hushed him as he rubbed soothing circles into his back. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “Just another growth spurt.”

And Andrew had never been more turned on.