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Regret, Part 11
🕑 Added 2025-02-14 19:48:12 +0000 UTC$4/Base Directory
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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.
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.
“You can’t take time off from school,” Andrew’s mother protested. “That’s not fair to you.” She shot a resentful look towards Elliott, who was slumped on the couch, his thighs spread, and his huge belly covering his lap. By then, he looked as though he was at term with triplets. He kept his eyes averted, looking duly ashamed. Elliott had gotten accustomed to being the target of everyone’s resentment.
“Mom, I’m gonna have to…” Andrew said as gently as he could.
“No, no, no, it’s counterproductive. If you take one semester off, it could easily turn into years. And with five newborns, who knows if you’ll ever finish your degree? That’s not the life we wanted for you, Andy.”
“What else are they gonna do?” Andrew’s father cut in, brusquely. “They have no money, no place to stay. Who’s going to help with the babies when Andrew’s at class? They can’t stay here. We don’t have room for five more kids. Sounds like a damn circus.”
Elliott reddened. He lifted his chin to see Andrew scowling.
“More like a zoo,” Andrew’s dad added as an afterthought before he took a swig of the beer in his hand. “This whole thing is a joke.”
Andrew was furious. His mother gave his father a pleading look.
“I should’ve known that kid was bad news,” the patriarch continued, now gesturing with his chin towards Elliott. With the aid of alcohol, he had no reservations about insulting his son-in-law. “Look at this mess he roped you into.”
“I don’t want you to take time off from college,” Andrew’s mother reiterated.
Andrew’s father started up again. “What else are they gonna do? Goddamn idiots.” He shook his head.
If it was just him under attack, Elliott might have been able to tolerate it. But Andrew’s parents’ growing animosity had finally pushed him over the edge. He couldn’t live like this anymore. It wasn’t worth feeling shitty all the time. It wasn’t worth the stress.
And so, Elliott silently decided on it right there. He was going to accept another modeling gig.
-
“Good grief! You don’t slow down, do ya, kid?” Jeffrey exclaimed at seeing Elliott.
Elliott blushed deeply. His whole face felt aflame.
“And you, my man,” Jeffrey roughly patted Andrew’s shoulder. “Just keep doing what you’re doing. You’re blowing him up!”
Now it was Andrew’s turn to blush. “When does the shoot start, exactly?” Andrew said with a forced smile. Jeffrey’s audacious commentary certainly wasn’t helping with Elliott’s nerves.
“Five minutes. We’re just putting the final touches on the set.” Jeffrey motioned to someone, and a woman rushed over. She closed in on Elliott and started applying some makeup to his face. Eyeliner, by the feel of it.
“You going to be okay?” Andrew asked Elliott.
Elliott waved him off. “Get to class,” he said with more confidence than he felt. “It’s not my first time.”
“You know he’s a natural,” Jeffrey winked.
Andrew looked uncertainly at the two of them. Nevertheless, he sighed and leaned over to kiss the side of Elliott’s head. “Call me if anything changes. Otherwise, I’ll be back at three.”
“That gives us plenty of time!” Jeffrey’s enthusiasm wasn’t catching.
Elliott inhaled deeply as he watched Andrew walk off. He was undeniably still quite uncomfortable about this modeling thing. But the pay was too good to pass up. At 3K per shoot, it practically felt like thievery.
Besides, the shoots weren’t long. No more than an hour or two — three max, Jeffrey had told him. And with a few more checks, he and Andrew could be on the road to independence.
Still, it felt like a lofty goal. Elliott had never imagined himself as a breadwinner in any capacity. And if he really wanted to make this work, he would have to drag this modeling thing out as long as possible. He had nowhere else to turn — no one in their right mind would hire him, looking the way he did. And soon he would have to support five real-life babies. Elliott still winced at the notion of juggling it all.
He also had to acknowledge the fact that Jeffrey wanted him specifically because of his condition. After he gave birth, there would be no job here for him. If he carried them all to term, that only left him with a few months to work. So, he just had to stay pregnant as long as possible.
To think, just the other day, he was begging to be induced. Elliott grimaced to himself.
Several lights snapped on, cameras swiveling toward the elaborate set directly in front of them. Elliott narrowed his eyes against the brightness.
“We’re good to go,” Jeffrey said after muttering something into a walkie-talkie. “You ready, champ?”
Elliott nodded, even though he wasn’t. Let’s get this over with, he thought to himself as he waddled onto the set, ignoring Jeffrey’s extended arm offering to help him. Elliott wasn’t an invalid. He could certainly walk.
For this shoot, he was wearing a button-down shirt and some tight, but stretchy, black jeans. Both pieces fit him better than the last set of clothing he had modeled. He wondered if they had been specifically picked out for him, or even altered to accommodate his belly.
Elliott just focused his gaze on the camera. The set was a jungle scene, of all things. It made no damn sense, but he wasn’t being paid to mention that.
“Annnd, relax,” Jeffrey encouraged, as the cameraman started snapping away. “We’re going to try a few different positions. You’re fine for now. Oh yeah, I like the way you’re arching. Set your hand on your stomach. A little lower. Perfecctt, now turn to the left a little…”
Elliott followed the directives as well as he could. Sometimes an assistant would run onto the set and manually adjust his position a little.
The designer was also present, her arms crossed as she scrutinized him. Sometimes she would lean close to Jeffrey and mutter something in a language Elliott didn’t understand.
Elliott was relieved when Jeffrey declared a five-minute break. Elliott’s latest position had him sprawled back on a patch of fake grass, leaning on his elbow as he cupped his belly with his free hand and gazed up at the camera seductively. It wasn’t remotely comfortable.
Elliott’s stomach gurgled as he locked himself in a bathroom. “Eugh…” Why had he let Andrew buy him that third egg sandwich?
Andrew was so annoyingly loving and caring, always taking care of him. Making sure that Elliott was well rested and well fed. Doing everything he could to ensure that the babies were healthy.
Andrew’s parents were right. Elliott didn’t deserve him.
Elliott took in long, even breaths as he leaned against the wall, gently running his hands up and down his swollen midsection. The tension was insane. He looked down at himself. At the way his man-tits were bulging in the shirt, looking all round and authentic. And the waistline of the piece, which felt unpleasantly tight. The buttons were starting to strain a little.
“Mmmmghhh…” Elliott hummed as the pressure intensified. Not again, he thought in grief, his face contorting and his back arching. “Errghhh…” His belly pushed and tightened, getting fuller and rounder, stretching outward until his flushed skin started to peek out between the buttons. It didn’t go on for long. Just an inch or two. “Hahhh…hahhh...” Elliott struggled to catch his breath. Belatedly, he realized that he had ruined the aesthetic. The shirt no longer fit him and now he looked sloppy.
There was a knock on the bathroom door. “Elliott? We need you back on set,” someone called.
“I’ll be right out!” Elliott choked, belatedly noticing the tears on his cheeks. He hurriedly wiped them away.
What was he going to do? The shirt was truly straining. What kind of model couldn’t even wear the line without stretching them out and outgrowing them. As usual, he was a liability. Suddenly Elliott didn’t want to come out of the bathroom. He choked back a sob, but then he clamped his mouth shut.
“Everything okay in there?” There was more knocking.
Elliott’s throat seemed to narrow as he was overcome by anxiety. This took his humiliation to a whole new level. “I, um…” He had nothing in terms of an explanation. He had no moves, no plan. And so, he gave into his resignation. Feeling numb, he opened the door.
The assistant standing on the other side smiled at first, but then stared at his midsection, and the way the design was warped by his belly stretching it out. “How…” she trailed off, stunned.
Elliott swallowed. “I…um…I’ll go to set.”
He waddled past her, clutching his abdomen with both hands. The babies were an odd comfort. He was never alone these days. Together, they would suffer their latest humiliation, then be on their way.
It felt like a long trek back to the front of the set. Elliott felt exhausted as he approached Jeffrey, attempting a feeble smile. “Hey, I uh…” He trailed off, awkwardly nodding downward, patting the side of his stomach lightly.
Jeffrey’s eyes followed the motion. His lips parted as he stared.
“What is zis!?” snapped a high voice.
Elliott’s gaze turned to the designer, who had walked over to stand beside Jeffrey.
“My clothing!” she shrieked.
Jeffrey shook himself out of his reverie. “Darla—” he started.
The designer began yammering in what had to be French, her voice so sharp it made Elliott cringe. He was honestly glad that he couldn’t understand a word of it. But judging by her tone, she was not pleased at all.
“You’re overreacting,” Jeffrey drawled over her. “And it still looks great. Plus we have plenty of pictures with the clothes fitting him in the…traditional sense.” He winked at Elliott. Elliott forced a rather miserable smile.
“Quel désastre!” the designer seethed.
“You need to chill out,” Jeffrey said. “As a matter of fact, I prefer it this way. The bigger the better, right Elliott?”
“The bigger the better?” Elliott echoed dazedly. He felt both stunned and relieved that Jeffrey was taking his side on this. He twiddled his thumbs, his hands trembling.
Jeffrey threw his arm around Elliott’s shoulders. “That’s right!”
The designer threw her arms up in aggravation. Then she took a moment, breathing heavily as she mustered her next three words. “You — are an a-nom-a-ly,” she sounded out in a thick accent while pointing an accusing finger at Elliott.
With that, she huffed and stormed off. Elliott blinked in her wake. The half-dozen photographers and assistants still lingering around the set had their heads down, their attention ostensibly averted.
“She’ll come around.”
Elliott glanced up at Jeffrey who wore a lazy smile, completely unbothered.
“I personally think we’re having a great shoot,” Jeffrey went on, giving Elliott’s shoulders a comforting squeeze. “And I bet anything that she’ll have a change of heart once the catalog comes out.”
Right, thought Elliott as he gulped.
-
It was a long day for both of them.
“So, it went well?” Andrew said once they were both home in their tiny room, already changed into their pajamas.
“Yeah,” said Elliott with an unconvincing smile.
Andrew narrowed his eyes but didn’t push the matter. “I see the babies were misbehaving.”
“Is it that noticeable?” Elliott said, knowing that Andrew was referencing his latest growth spurt.
“No. But I don’t miss a thing,” Andrew countered, closing in.
Elliott just felt huge. He was still in his second trimester, but swore he looked like a blimp. Only the top buttons of his pajama top actually closed around him, the rest hanging open, most of his belly bulging out nakedly beneath.
It was round and huge, just massive. Elliott imagined he looked past term with triplets, or — he wasn’t exactly an expert on development, but he knew he looked abnormal. He knew his size was extreme, if just by the way people froze or gawked at him whenever they took him in. He was an anomaly, just like Darla had said. And it was getting kind of exhausting.
“What’s wrong?” Andrew asked, seeing Elliott’s defeat.
“Just…a long day,” Elliott said, easing himself down on the mattress.
“Anything I can do?” Andrew asked as he sat on the bed beside him.
“Not really…”
Andrew leaned closer. He settled one hand on Elliott’s belly as he kissed the curve of his jaw, then moved along to his throat.
Elliott sighed.
“Feels good?” Andrew inquired as he went yet lower, nipping his way along Elliott’s heated flesh. He started to unbutton his shirt.
“Andrew…” Elliott murmured, but he didn’t protest or pull away. As a matter of fact, he pulled Andrew closer.
Andrew didn’t need any other indication. He closed in on his destination. He kissed Elliott’s left nipple. Traced it. Sucked it.
Then his eyes went wide. He sucked again, confirming the taste of whatever he was experiencing. This was — it was small amounts of milk. Droplets of it, but milk all the same. God, Elliott’s body was amazing.
Andrew paused, wondering if he should disclose what was happening. He looked up at Elliott who had sank against his pillows, his eyes closed, his face more relaxed than it had been in ages.
Maybe not just yet.
Maybe…later.
And so, Andrew leaned down and went back to sucking.
