Regret, Part 5

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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

-

Elliott may have…overdone things with the pasta.

“It’s quints, right?” Andrew reasoned. He didn’t have any qualms with what had occurred. It had actually been strangely thrilling, as most things had become regarding Elliott’s pregnancy for him. But still, Elliott was overwhelmed and upset, and it was Andrew’s duty to comfort. “So it’s a lot of hormones. Of course your appetite’s gonna be really intense sometimes.”

Elliott was slumped in his seat, gasping for breath, desperately rubbing his round abdomen as it puffed up and down with his heavy breathing. The growth was tangible; the difference was blatant. Elliott’s belly was clearly larger than it had been a couple of moments earlier. And blonde looked completely panicked, still puffing out breaths like he was doing lamaze.

Andrew was struggling to keep his arousal at bay. He hoped it wasn’t too obvious. “It’s okay, it’s okay El,” he assured as he knelt down beside Elliott’s chair, rubbing his back, peppering kisses all over his husband’s sweat-sleek belly. The tank top had drawn up entirely over it.

Elliott twisted his fingers through Andrew’s hair, a sob coming up his throat. “I – I don’t know what’s happening to me,” Elliott managed, breathlessly. “I just lose it around food.” A tear rolled down his cheek.

“You’re fine, El, you’re pregnant,” Andrew said, looking up at him. “With five babies. I think you’re allowed to pig out. I’d be more concerned if you didn’t.”

Elliott gave a brittle laugh. He sniffed, wiping his hand across his nose.

Even tearful and breathless while sniffing back mucus, Elliott couldn’t have been more gorgeous.

“You’re beautiful,” Andrew went on. “You’re amazing. And you’re doing what the babies need. There’s no shame in that.”

Elliott weakly nodded.

Andrew stood, offering his hand. Elliott took it, allowing Andrew to help him to his feet. It seemed more awkward than usual, Elliott grimacing as he held his belly with his free hand. As Elliott stood, Andrew found himself again marveling at how far is belly spanned now. But Andrew managed to tear his eyes away, not wanting to make a big deal out of it when Elliott was so sensitive.

“Let’s get some rest,” Andrew said.

Together, they went back to their bedroom and went to sleep.

-

They snuggled together in bed the next day, watching movies. Andrew could hardly take his hands off of Elliott’s round belly. He traced it with his fingers, feeling the gentle heaves as Elliott breathed in and out.

They only got up only to use the bathroom, or when Andrew headed to the kitchen to get more snacks for Elliott.

This wasn’t how Andrew had pictured his honeymoon, but it was still perfect somehow. Elliott’s eyes were fixed on the latest rom-com playing on the large TV opposite them as he leaned back into Andrew’s chest and absently stuffed cheese puffs into his mouth. Andrew idly kissed the crook of his neck, his fingers exploring Elliott’s bulging nape again. Sometimes his hands would wander up north to some softer hills, and Elliott absently slapped Andrew’s hand away.

Andrew was content to hold Elliott’s belly, resting his palms against their growing babies. The swell was so firm, so full. Andrew felt a tiny lurch. Movement?

Elliott covered his mouth against the small burp. “Sorry,” he said, then popped a donut hole into his mouth.

Just indigestion then. Andrew continued to cup the mound, unsure of why it fascinated him so profoundly. God, it was so big already. He couldn’t wait to see how Elliott looked in another month or two. Or three. Fuck.

“Do you think you’ll make it to term?” Andrew suddenly heard himself asking.

Elliott blinked, his attention finally drawn away from the screen. He finished chewing and swallowing his latest bite of food. “Well…no,” he admitted. “Isn’t that rare even with twins? The doctor said they’ll probably come early. Preterm.”

That was true. “He wants you to carry them as long as possible. Make sure that they are big and healthy.”

“Yeah.” Elliott gulped.

“It’ll be okay. I’m sure there are things we can do to…to keep you pregnant longer. I mean, I can do some web-browsing.”

“Okay,” Elliott agreed with a nervous smile, his eyes returning to the TV, but he didn’t seem to be really watching it anymore. Neither was Andrew, really.

Andrew’s mind was just wandering, his excitement a contrast to Elliott’s ambivalence. Yet they held each other, thinking and breathing as the movie became background noise. Andrew rested his face against Elliott’s shoulder.

Andrew didn’t try to hide how hard he was getting as he kissed Elliott’s nape and then his throat with increasing ambition.

Elliott whined as though aggrieved, even though he was hard as well. He didn’t resist. He let Andrew pull him closer because his libido had been insatiable since several weeks earlier.

“You’re blowing me up,” Elliott complained as he caught Andrew’s lips, kissing keenly; desperately.

Andrew wasn’t sure what that meant. He hurriedly shoved down their boxers and aligned their bodies.

-

“I ordered you some prenatal vitamins,” Andrew mentioned the next evening. He had, indeed, done some web-research on prolonging Elliott’s pregnancy; getting him as close to 40-weeks as was possible with the quints. “And we can talk to the doctor about a progesterone prescription.”

“Great,” Elliott said, sitting on the opposite end of the couch while scrolling aimlessly through social media on his phone.

“And I’m getting rid of all your soaps and lotions and stuff. Their scented, and we should replace it with all-natural stuff. Certain chemicals are linked to preterm-”

“Don’t you think you’re obsessing?” Elliott cut in. He still hadn’t looked up from his phone.

Andrew was about to respond, then paused, and took another long sip from his wine glass. He’d nearly finished off the bottle. Elliott had not at all been happy that Andrew was indulging in alcohol without him, but Andrew had allowed Elliott the tiniest taste before pulling the glass away. “It’s important,” Andrew said, finally.

“Yeah.” It wasn’t as though Elliott could disagree. Finally lowering the phone, Elliott glanced down at himself, his hand cupping his smooth belly. He had been wearing only tank tops and briefs all weekend, the tops permanently drawn up over his swell, so that his belly bulged out nakedly. “I want to try something.”

Andrew watched, his brows raising as Elliott heaved himself up from the couch and waddled — he was unquestionably waddling now — off to the bedroom. A few moments later, Elliott returned while pulling a button-down shirt around his shoulders. It took Andrew a moment to register that it was the same shirt Elliott had worn four days earlier at the courthouse when they had gotten married.

Andrew watched Elliott button the shirt, the task getting increasingly awkward as Elliott tried to close it over his chest. Finally, when he was finished, both men looked at the shirt in stunned silence.

There material was so tight that there were gaps between the buttons. It didn’t remotely fit anymore.

“God,” Elliott breathed with a terrified smile. “I’m becoming a blimp.”

Andrew recovered quickly. “A cute blimp,” he offered.

“Fuck you.”

Andrew finished off his wine and stood. “It’s normal, El. It’s fine. Growth spurts are normal. They are fucking quintuplets,” he laughed, admittedly tipsy. He was going to be the father to quints. What the hell was his life?

“Andrew…” Elliott managed uneasily.

“You’re perfect, El.” Andrew was close to admitting how much he really liked this. That he couldn’t wait until Elliott got even bigger. That this was incredibly hot for some reason, and it turned Andrew on to no end.

“I should disgust you.”

Andrew laughed at this. “Elliott, I love you.”

“You’re just being nice.”

Andrew guided him back to the couch, sitting down and pulling Elliott into his lap. He held his pregnant husband sideways against him.

“Aren’t I crushing you?” Elliott said bitterly.

“Shut up.” Andrew’s response was muffled against Elliott’s straining shirt as he kissed the soft cotton.

“Andy…”

Andrew was undoing the buttons that looked like they might pop off anyway. The wine making him a bit more reckless, Andrew kissed Elliott’s little tits. Elliott drew a sharp breath, but to Andrew’s surprise, he didn’t push him off. He’d never let him play with them before.

His breathing thinning, Elliott twisted his fingers through Andrew’s hair as Andrew nipped and licked, steadily working his way towards a swollen nipple —

There was a knock at the door.

-

It was an eviction notice.

Elliott was pacing and panicking. “Oh god, oh fuck, what were we thinking?” Forrester cutting them off had really screwed them over.

Andrew felt a little dazed, himself. “It’s okay, we’ll figure something out,” he said, trying not to start freaking out. “I’ll… I’ll call my parents.”

“Your family doesn’t have money,” Elliott said.

Andrew shrugged in response. It wasn’t as though there were other options. So Andrew made the call.

Two weeks later, Andrew was moving back into his childhood home, now with Elliott in tow.

It was surreal and heartbreaking, but also awkward and mortifying. Moving back in with one’s parents after all this time. It felt like he was regressing.

Andrew’s former bedroom on the second floor had been inherited by his younger brother. The only room left was the small, cramped one on the first floor directly under the stairs. It quaked and thundered every time anyone went up or down the staircase.

“Well this is…nice,” Andrew said as they settled into the small space, both reclined on the bed that took up practically the whole room, the bulb on the ceiling glowed a cheap orange tone in its feeble efforts to fill the heavy darkness. It smelled dusty even though Andrew had made sure to clean the room meticulously. Both Andrew and Elliott flinched at the sound of trampling feet; undoubtedly one of the kids was stomping up the stairs.

Elliott didn’t say much. His lips had been pressed firmly throughout most of the process of moving. They couldn’t afford help, so Elliott had mostly stood around awkwardly watching as Andrew dragged their items to and from his SUV. It had taken two trips, each an hour driving back and forth. Elliott was under strict orders not to help, so he had simply stood by, looking numb and about ready to cry.

“It’ll be okay,” Andrew said softly, taking Elliott’s hand and squeezing it.

Most of their belongings decidedly couldn’t fit in the small room they had been given, so had ended up buried in Andrew’s family’s garage, or still stuffed in the trunk of Andrew’s car.

There was a faint rapping on the door. “Dinner,” called Martha, Andrew’s mother.

Elliott took some convincing, but he felt defeated. He hardly had the energy to fight anymore.

The two got as presentable as they could, Elliott cramming his chest into his compression vest and pulling on a T-shirt that was tight but at least covered his belly. He paired it with some sweatpants, looking miserable and self-conscious.

Andrew held his hand as they walked out to the dining room. He gazed at the way Elliott eased himself down, his body more awkward than it had been before their honeymoon. He was growing so big and so fast. He looked as though he could have been seven months pregnant. Andrew gulped as he reflected that this was all his handiwork.

“Thanks for everything, Martha,” Elliott mumbled, his eyes on the table. It was probably more than he’d had said all day to Andrew.

“Of course,” Andrew’s mother responded with a strained smile. She seemed uncertain about the predicament her son and Elliott had gotten themselves into, but didn’t want to push them away, especially when there would soon be grandchildren involved. It was like she was still trying to sort out whether to be congratulatory or disapproving toward the couple. But she offered her sympathy freely. “It’s a difficult situation. I wish we could help more, but things have been tight here as well.”

“We’re just grateful to have a place to stay,” Andrew assured.

Andrew’s thirteen-year-old brother, Wyatt, had been staring at Elliott rudely and continuously. Andrew would have loved to deck him but supposed he lost that privilege after turning eighteen.

“Why is your tummy so fat?” a high-pitched voice demanded.

Andrew winced. His seven-year-old sister, Becca, was leaning her whole torso across the table. She, too, was staring at Elliott, but with a look of wonder rather than befuddlement.

Elliott reddened, looking like he wanted to crawl into a hole.

Andrew intervened, “He’s not fat, he’s having a baby.”

Becca giggled like she thought this was a joke.

Andrew just sighed and rubbed Elliott’s knee under the table. He gave Elliott a look that he hoped conveyed, Sorry for my siblings, I’ll kill them later.

In the kitchen, a timer went off, but Andrew’s mother stayed put in her seat, her attention on Elliott and Andrew.

“I’m sorry, they…why, even I hardly knew that male pregnancy was…was a real thing now, actually. You two must have certainly…wanted to be parents. I might still have one of Becca’s old cribs in the attic, and some other baby things. But I suppose you still have a little bit of time. Elliott dear, how far along are you?”

Elliott’s blush deepened. Still staring at the table, he mumbled something.

“Pardon?” Martha said.

“He’s four months,” Andrew said. “Well, four and a half.”

Andrew’s mother blinked then gave an awkward grin, like she thought Andrew’s response had been a bad attempt at humor. But as she took in Andrew and Elliott’s solemn expressions, her smile fell. “What?” she croaked.

Andrew’s heart was pounding. “Yeah…” he said with a nervous smile of his own. “I guess we never got the chance to tell you…we’re having quintuplets.”

Martha gasped audibly. She covered her mouth, staring at them in shock.

“Yeah,” Andrew managed. “Got a little…more than we bargained for, but we couldn’t be happier. Actually, can we talk about this later? It’s been a long day.” He knew he was rambling, but he was overwhelmed, and this was kind of his fault. He had been so enthusiastic about Elliott’s pregnancy until they couldn’t make rent, and now it wasn’t just his problem anymore. Now they had to answer to his parents.

Thank god his dad was still at work.

It smelled like something was burning in the kitchen. Martha hardly seemed to notice. It seemed like forever before she finally lowered her hand from her face. “O-of course,” she stammered. She tried and failed to smile.

Andrew nodded absently and meaninglessly. He had serious doubts that his parents would have let them move in had they known that Elliott was pregnant with five babies.

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