Kompera
patreon
Political, Part 3
🕑 Added 2025-06-01 01:28:43 +0000 UTC$7/Bronze Directory
$12/Silver Directory
$22/Gold Directory
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.
-
“That’s not possible,” said Justin, after his physician had made the ludicrous claim three times.
“It’s rare,” Dr. Norris responded. “Exceedingly rare. Until ten years ago, there had only been a few known cases worldwide. But with the increase of environmental hormonal disruptors and replicators, we’re seeing more instances of this happening.”
Justin’s mind was reeling. This had to be a sick joke. He looked around for the hidden cameras.
“Justin…you must trust that I’m serious. This is a real diagnosis,” Dr. Norris insisted.
Justin didn’t know whether or not this was real, but he knew that it couldn’t be. “Get rid of it,” he ordered.
Dr. Norris kept his face completely neutral. “I’m afraid that’s not easy. There are only a few clinics worldwide that cater to this sort of thing. And frankly, in this state, abortion is illegal. Why Mr. Foster, you’re the one who first proposed that legislation.”
“If not this state, which one?” demanded Justin, ignoring the physician’s last remark.
The doctor frowned. “At your stage…” He paused as he gazed at Justin’s rounded belly. “The clinic in Maryland wouldn’t take you. Your best chance would be abroad. But Mr. Foster, you have a lot to process. I think if you just take a few days—”
Justin was already getting up, struggling with his belt, which could only latch awkwardly low, beneath the curve of his mound. He hesitated before he stripped off the hospital gown, his embarrassment in full force. Could it really be possible? Was he really pregnant? Anger surging, Justin threw the gown aside and grabbed his shirt.
He had to keep this hidden. Getting an abortion was the most hypocritical thing he could do after campaigning so heavily on pro-life rhetoric. Yes, his secret had to be kept under lock and key. Anything else would ruin him. “I need you to destroy any documentation regarding this appointment. Also, would you be willing to sign an NDA?”
Dr. Norris looked offended. “Mr. Foster, I’m a physician. I am already bound to confidentiality. This clinic honors HIPPA regulations as well as—”
“Let’s talk numbers,” Justin cut in. Everyone had a price.
-
Justin could not stop ruminating on his supposed “pregnancy.” He wasn’t certain he believed it, but he still wanted to take it very seriously. And when he searched online, the things Dr. Norris had told him checked out. It was rare, but it was a thing. It was a thing that could possibly be happening to Justin.
That bitch. He thought of his secret hookup with Penelope. That was the only point when this could have happened to him. He had tried calling her several more times since his doctor’s appointment, but every time, he was sent straight to voicemail.
If Justin really was pregnant, and it got out that he was getting rid of it, he would be completely destroyed. His career in politics would be over, and he doubted he would even be able to get a job as a cashier in the future.
Every move he made was under public scrutiny. Justin had to tread carefully. He had to keep it secret, keep it under wraps. Don’t let anyone know about it except for those who were absolutely essential.
Admittedly, hiding a pregnancy might not be easy. But Justin was up for the challenge. He was a brilliant strategist, if nothing else.
-
There was tension at home. Justin knew he wasn’t just imagining it. It wasn’t easy to go from having an unknown “medical issue” to being a husband and father who was secretly pregnant.
Justin already had a bunch of kids. And little Chloe had been an accident.
“What did the doctor say?” Nora asked over dinner.
Justin had just stuffed a forkful of buttery mashed potatoes into his mouth.
As he gulped it down, he felt a pang of disgust at what he was housing. What he was feeding and nurturing, as it took residence in his body.
“Justin?” she pressed.
Their son, Rob, was out at a track meet, and their daughter, Madison, was having dinner at one of her friends’ houses. At the table, Chloe was playing with a doll, while Bridget and Jack were discreetly propelling peas at each other.
“He said I’m fine,” Justin lied, focusing on his plate.
He knew he couldn’t tell his family. They would hate him. There was no reason they had to know. No reason he had to ruin his whole life over something that was only temporary.
It was safer not to tell them. Quietly get his abortion. He had to keep his family together no matter what. He couldn’t win his campaign without them.
“Fine?” Nora echoed, her expression dubious.
“He said it’s just some bloating and indigestion.” (Jack and Bridget snickered.) “From stress,” Justin added pointedly.
Nora narrowed her eyes at him.
“But he’s…gonna run more tests.” Justin went back to shoveling down food.
-
At work, Justin was grateful for the distraction of meetings. He had Teresa buy him some bigger suits that fell loose over his growing body. He began to notice small things he hadn’t before—things that corroborated his diagnosis. Like the fact that his body seemed slightly warm all the time, warmer than its base temperature. The fact that his chest had grown tender, and he was constantly at least mildly hungry. Or how the hair on his head seemed thicker, while his body hair seemed nonexistent these days. Or how his heart rate was slightly elevated, and he had a constant flush on his face.
In the back of his mind, Justin was constantly strategizing.
He could take measures to keep his weight from getting out of control. Go on a diet, maybe do some extra time at the gym in the evenings. He could stock up on clothes that were slightly too big, just in case he had a growth spurt or something. Justin knew if he stayed on top of things, most people were unlikely to notice anything was different.
Of course, there was the issue that he was snacking constantly. Just compulsively shoving food into his mouth. Even at that moment, while at his desk, Justin was chomping on chips by the handful. He looked down at himself, frowning at the crumbs that were now covering his blazer.
His appetite had certainly surged.
Before Justin could make any more plans, he needed a second medical evaluation, and certain associated details.
Vincent was discrete. He was the only one Justin had informed of the pregnancy. And that was only because Justin knew the man would sooner die than disclose any of Justin’s (many) secrets.
That evening, after leaving work, Justin drove straight to a small, nondescript motel on the edge of town. He picked up the key to room twenty-eight on the second floor, sat on the bed, and waited.
Within the hour, the door opened, and Vincent shoved a disheveled man inside, before shutting the door behind them.
The man was Joshua Cormack, a small-town OB/GYN they’d had flown in. He didn’t specialize in male pregnancy, but that was hardly a necessity. Justin just needed a bit of information.
Justin was relieved that when Cormack looked at him, there was no recognition in his gaze. The guy wasn’t a local.
“We just need a scan,” said Vincent, wheeling over the portable ultrasound machine from where it had been left in the corner.
Sometimes Justin had to pause and appreciate how unfazed Vincent was by anything that came his way, no matter how bizarre. The man had truly seen it all.
“This feels shady,” Cormack griped, his voice unpleasantly nasally.
“Have we asked you to do anything illegal?” Vincent countered.
Cormack just pressed his lips in a frown.
“That’s what I thought. Now do the scan if you want to get paid.” Vincent plugged the machine in.
Justin stood, awkwardly watching as Cormack went over to the machine, pressing some buttons. The screen lit up. “And you want me to check…?” He gave Justin a questioning look.
Justin blinked back at him in puzzlement.
“What body part?” Cormack asked in a tone that suggested Justin might be an idiot.
“Er…my stomach.” Justin gritted his teeth. His hands unconsciously clutched his rounded belly.
Cormack’s eyes followed the movement. “Get on the bed,” he ordered. “Upright, against the pillows.”
With a jerky nod, Justin piled some pillows against each other, then leaned back against them so he was partially upright across the bed. His chest felt tight. With tense fingers, he opened his blazer, and unbuttoned the lower half of his shirt. He stared at the way his round belly protruded upwards, all firm and unnatural. His lips twisted in an uncomfortable frown.
Cormack shoved the machine to the side of the bed beside Justin. His gaze shot to Justin’s belly as he blinked rapidly in confusion. “Is this…?”
Justin said nothing, he just stared at the ceiling.
“Do the scan,” commanded Vincent from where he stood a safe ten feet away, by the wall.
Justin flinched as cool gel was squirted onto his abdomen. A wand was then rubbed firmly against his gut. He grimaced, keeping his eyes trained on the ceiling.
“So you are…” Cormack trailed off. “I’ve never seen one before. I mean I’ve seen this obviously, but never on a man. I didn’t…wow.”
“We just need to know how far along it is,” said Vincent.
“Judging by the size, I’d say three months. But if I could run a few more tests—”
“Only three months?” Vincent cut in. “Then why’s he so…” he trailed off, for Justin’s sake.
“Why am I so big?” Justin finished the question, his cheeks hot.
Cormack moved the probe around a bit more. “Triplets.”
“No,” Justin heard himself say.
“Yes.”
Justin’s heart was racing. Again, his existence felt like a sick joke. “What. The. Fuck.”
“It’s remarkable,” Cormack went on, continuing to study the screen. “Fully formed uterus. No ovaries. You really are a man. You might be the first man in history to carry multiples, actually.”
Justin’s mind was reeling, but he tried to stay focused. None of this mattered. He was getting rid of it, so it didn’t matter how many were in there or how unique this was. “My chest…” he managed.
Cormack glanced down, taking note of the other curves in Justin’s shirt. “It’s from the hormones. It’s normal. Likely, they’ll grow more as your condition progresses.”
Justin felt sick. He didn’t want to deal with this. He suddenly wished to flee his body. He was harboring his own personal nightmare.
He was grateful for Vincent, stepping up. Even if it meant he was treating Justin like an incompetent toddler.
“Do you know of any clinics that offer male abortion after the three month mark?”
“It’s not exactly my area of expertise,” said Cormack.
It didn’t matter. This was sufficient.
“Thank you,” Justin managed, shoving himself farther upright. He nodded to Vincent, who came over and handed Cormack a thick envelope.
Cormack’s jaw fell slack after he peeked inside it.
“All that’s left is the NDA,” said Vincent, now pulling a large folder out of his jacket.
-
It only took a bit of research for Justin to find that there was indeed a male pregnancy clinic that offered abortions after three months. It was a measly continent away. The flight was ten hours.
It would be worth it.
He would have to pay cash, but Justin was willing to do it all. Anything was better than allowing this to progress any further. Of that, Justin was certain.
He timed the trip carefully. His alibi was a political conference hosted in the same city. He would try to stop by. Get a picture or two. Have the procedure, and move on from this absurd joke. He could even stop for souvenirs. Get some china for the missus and apprise her of foreign greetings.
Then things would be business as usual.
“Sir, you have a rally that weekend. The one in Bakersville. It’s supposed to be huge. But I can book you for a later flight, maybe a redeye at midnight?” Teresa was saying from behind her computer.
It didn’t matter. They would just have to make it work. “Book it,” he told her as he covered his mouth and hurried off to the bathroom.
