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Malcolm, Part 9
🕑 Added 2025-02-15 01:12:45 +0000 UTC$4/Base Directory
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Summary: Malcolm has a unique ability. Contains: Male: belly expansion, breast expansion, stuffing, weight gain, butt expansion, pregnancy.
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.
-
Jax with the Tats
It must have been a tumor or something.
That was Jax’s latest theory. He was a skinny guy, and the way his stomach was sticking out, all round and firm, just didn’t seem natural. It jutted sharply from his body, and was too bloated to be normal weight gain. Jax figured it was some heath issue. He didn’t have the funds for a hospital stay, and he didn’t trust doctors anyway. He would wait it out, see if it would pass. If it made him sick, so be it. He wasn’t scared of dying.
Jax coughed the remnants of sick from his mouth as he gripped the toilet seat, his nausea finally subsiding. He had been having these episodes for weeks. He grimaced at the sight of his vomit before he climbed heavily it to his feet. He flushed the toilet then rinsed out his mouth in the sink.
Jax was doubtful that Rachel had heard anything. She was usually a heavy sleeper. He made his way back to the living room in the dark where he lowered himself across the old, worn couch, with that one bad spring that always poked him in the side. He threw his arm across his eyes as he relaxed, intending to get in a few more hours of sleep. He was always so tired lately; so incredibly tired.
When he woke up again, the living room was bright with sunlight, and Jax realized he had slept later than intended. During his slumber, his tank top had slid up enough to reveal the bulging curve of his abdomen. He paused and reflected on how weird it looked.
Then he noticed Rachel standing a few feet away with a cup of coffee, looking like she agreed with his thoughts. She was staring at his exposed belly.
Jax was suddenly wide-awake. He impulsively jerked his shirt down as he whipped out his gun with his free hand, pointing the barrel directly at Rachel.
Rachel shrieked and dropped her mug, ceramic shattering against the faded wood floor.
Jax was already scrambling up to a sitting position, keeping his gun trained on his cousin. He hurriedly adjusted his clothing, ensuring that he was fully covered. Rachel had seen his anomaly. His weakness. He was vulnerable and no one was supposed to know.
“Get that thing out of my face!” Rachel shrieked, recovering from her shock.
Jax hesitated, then lowered the gun. He knew he had overreacted.
“What the hell’s going on, Jax?” she demanded.
Jax rubbed his face with his free hand, hoping she would shut the fuck up.
“Shit Jack, I had no idea you—” she paused, looking uneasy. “Jack, do you have sex with men?”
Jax found himself pointing his gun at her again. “What the fuck did you say!?” he demanded.
She flinched. “Fuck, Jack. Chill out!”
“It’s Jax,” he corrected her.
Rachel slowly uncoiled, seeming to have gathered her nerves. Her expression twisting in anger, she stalked forward and shoved the gun away. She then started swatting him in the head for good measure. He tried to cover his face with his arms.
“You fucking bitch!”
“Don’t you point that thing at me you brat!” She struck him one more time, before stepping back to scowl down at him. “And I’ll call you whatever the fuck I want.” At thirty, Rachel was seven years his senior. She had even babysat for him back in the day, before Jax had sprung up three inches taller than her and developed a proclivity for hanging out with his friends on street corners. Though taller than Rachel, Jax was still below average height. Some people had accused him of having a “Napoleon complex.” Those people had come to regret opening their fat fucking mouths.
Rachel was breathing heavily, her glare a threat on its own. Then she rummaged in the purse hanging off her shoulder. She pulled out something very peculiar, which she shoved at Jax. He took the object, staring at it.
“A pregnancy test,” Rachel clarified. “I want you to take it. Well, you just have to piss on it.” She pointed her thumb towards the bathroom.
“Is this a fucking joke?” said Jax in disgust.
“Male pregnancy is a thing now,” she lectured. “Don’t you watch the news? There’s a record-high rate of it in this city—”
“It’s a hoax!” Jax snapped, like she was an idiot. “And even if it wasn’t, I’m not a fucking freak.”
“Take the goddamn test!” Rachel yelled, raising her fist and causing Jax to unintentionally flinch. He grimaced at his own reaction and had half a mind to pull his gun on her again.
“Now!” Rachel added. She resumed her assault, swatting him all the way to the bathroom.
“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Jax promised.
“Yeah, yeah.” Rachel slammed the door behind him. “Take the damn test!”
Jax glared at the door then at the the stupid plastic stick still clutched in his hand. “Fuck it,” he grumbled as he undid his belt.
Five minutes later, Jax walked out of the bathroom. “Here,” he said, flicking the pregnancy test at Rachel’s head.
She dodged it, but peered down at the device after it hit the floor. She nudged it with her foot, turning it over. Jax joined her in gazing at the little pink sign on the display.
“So?” he said in annoyance.
Rachel gulped. “Jax…it’s positive.”
He laughed at her, even as her face paled. “Stop trying to fuck with me.” He went over to the couch, grabbing his backpack. Checking the bills hidden in the interior pockets.
“I’m not!” said Rachel.
Jax zipped his backpack closed, not even bothering to look up.
“Jax, you’re pregnant.”
“I’m a man,” Jax reminded her. He wondered if this was her latest attempt to get him off the streets. If so, it was fucking pathetic.
“That doesn’t matter,” Rachel countered in exasperation. “Yes, you’re a man, and you’re having a baby.”
Jax sighed as he checked the clip on his gun, before shoving the weapon into his belt.
“You can’t go out there like this.” Rachel’s voice had taken on a pleading tone. “Once they realize, you’re fair game to them. They’re not your friends.”
“You’re a crazy bitch,” Jax said dryly. He finally turned to face her, slinging his backpack on one of his shoulders. “Thanks for letting me crash here,” he added with a shrug.
He saw the way her eyes darted to the curve of his abdomen, but he didn’t give a reaction.
She shook her head. “Jesus christ, Jax. Just — just give me a minute.” She hurried out of the room. Jax rolled his eyes, but waited.
When Rachel returned, she was holding what looked like a women’s tank top. Jax raised an eyebrow.
“It’s a compression garment,” Rachel explained. “Try it on.”
“This has to be a fucking joke—”
“Just put it on!” Rachel insisted. “For fucks sakes, you can’t go out there looking like somebody’s bitch—” She stopped abruptly, covering her mouth.
Jax’s body had gone stiff. His hand twitched, but he tempered himself. She’s not worth it, he thought, drawing in a deep breath. Rachel looked frightened. She knew she had gone too far.
But rather than reacting to the insult, Jax simply held out his hand. Rachel hesitated, and handed him the garment.
Jax then pulled off his tank top, pretending not to care as he exposed his protruding stomach. It wasn’t that bad, was it? Jax tried not to look at it, but he could feel Rachel staring. Almost in fascination. As though this wasn’t just a game.
He pulled on the garment. It wasn’t as easy as he had thought it would be. It was tight and constricting, proving a struggle to wrench down over his gut. Jax felt his body being steadily compressed inwards. The effect was profound, his torso much smoother now. Yet it was extremely uncomfortable, Jax feeling constricted and breathless. He hastily pulled his tank top on over the garment, and was left looking relatively like his old self. Jax smoothed his hand over his torso, reluctantly impressed.
“You happy?” he all but gasped out. The garment felt way too tight, but it was tolerable.
Rachel still looked troubled, but she nodded. “It’s better. I mean, it helps hide it...for now. You really have to get off the streets, Jack. You need to be somewhere safe.”
“I’m leaving,” Jax countered, again lifting his backpack. He walked towards the door.
“Jack.”
She was wearing through his last nerve.
“You can stay here, you know,” said Rachel. “Until you figure things out. Why—why don’t you stay?” She forced a smile, but it quavered. Her arms were crossed and tense.
“You think they wouldn’t come looking for me?” responded Jax with a sneer. He threw her one more glance.
With that, he walked out of the apartment.
He had more important things to do than listen to whiny bitches and their delusional stories.
The door slammed shut behind him.
-
Christian stepped outside to get some air, feeling a little nauseous.
There were two guys smoking at the corner of the library building a few feet away from him. Fortunately, the breeze dragged the smoke away rather than towards Christian.
“You seen that kid waddling around downtown?” one of the smokers said to the other. He was middle-aged with a buzz cut.
“What kid?” said his friend who was wearing a flannel shirt. Blue-collar types. They might have been coworkers.
Buzz-Cut made a motion with his hand, pantomiming a belly.
Flannel barked out a laugh. “You mean that kid. Yeah. I can’t believe he even leaves the house anymore. Shiit, I’d go into hiding.” He tossed his cigarette butt as his buddy laughed.
“I’m surprised he can walk,” Buzz-Cut noted, blowing smoke to the side.
Flannel snorted. “Yeah, he’s big.”
“Have you seen him lately? He’s fucking huge. I didn’t even know pregnant people got that big.”
“Maybe it’s more than one baby,” Flannel suggested.
“You think? Kid looks like a damn high schooler.”
“Come on, he can’t be that young.”
“It’s just fucked.” The two laughed. “Like, I don’t know how you live that down. Being the one guy in town whose pregnant. Shit’s insane. I’d literally go into hiding.”
“Oh shit.” Flannel motioned at something with a jerk of his chin.
Christian followed their gazes to someone approaching from down the block.
A young man was walking towards them. Well, more so waddling. Or struggling. He was very pregnant, his hands cupping his protruding belly as he made his way towards the library. His face was flushed, some sweat glistening on his forehead. He did look quite young, but there was a maturity about him. Christian didn’t think he looked high school-age. More like college. Early twenties, maybe.
From a clinical standpoint, Christian could not deny that the young man’s pregnancy was quite advanced. He looked as though he was past term, or carrying multiples, maybe. Christian couldn’t know without doing a full exam. Not that the young man was his patient, or any of his business, at that. Belatedly, Christian tore his eyes away.
If the young man had noticed the stares, he didn’t acknowledge them. When he passed by, Christian could hear him breathing audibly. Then the young man turned into the library, pushing his way inside. As the door swung shut behind him, Christian and the two smokers collectively unfroze.
“Holy shit,” said Flannel with a shaky laugh. “You weren’t kiddin’. What the hell’s he been eating?”
“Maybe it’s fake. It could be one of those dumb stunts they put on the internet,” suggested Buzz-Cut.
Their voices faded as Christian walked into the library, appreciating the cool, dry air as he made his way towards the back. He offered smiles to the librarians he passed before he entered the passage that led him down the five steps to the basement. A little over a dozen people were sitting in folding chairs that were arranged in a circle. It seemed the meeting was already underway.
“The wedding’s still on,” muttered the brown-haired guy who tugging nervously at his sweatshirt. Christian recalled that his name was Jim. “She thinks I just put on weight. I’ve tried to tell her a hundred times, but I just can’t get the words out. She doesn’t know about the pregnancy. She doesn’t know about me and my boss. She —she doesn’t know shit.” He momentarily covered his face with his hands, but then steeled himself. He drew a deep breath, his hands moving down to absently rub at the rounded swell protruding from his abdomen. He wore a troubled look, his eyes looking off. His pregnancy appeared to be nearly at term by then.
“How does she not?” asked the sole woman sitting in the circle, a puzzled expression on her face.
Jim bit his lip and shrugged. “I don’t know. I always wear baggy clothes when I’m around her. Layers, too. Say I’m having weight issues.”
“Dude,” said a red-haired guy, looking dubious. “I don’t think you’re fooling anyone.”
“Sounds like she’s in denial,” piped in someone else.
Christian had to agree. Jim was very clearly pregnant.
Jim sniffed. “I’m such a fucking screw-up. Did I mention he’s my best man? The father of my baby— he’s my boss and my best man.” Jim trailed off, his cheeks reddening. “I’d ended the affair the moment I found out. But lately…with all the hormones… God, I have no self-control.”
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Jim pressed his palms to his forehead, breathing deeply.
“Well, it could be instinctual,” Christian offered, even though he hadn’t intended to speak. “Just your body telling you it’s time to get induced. In a way, it makes sense that you would become attracted to him again.”
“But you have to come clean with your fiancé,” added Oliver, the guy who ran the support group. “Cheating is never right. She has to know what she’s getting into before she marries you.”
“If she doesn’t see it, she’s blind,” someone quipped, though Christian didn’t spot who had spoken.
Jim could no longer hold back. He dissolved to tears as he usually did, stagnant in his dilemma for yet another week in a row. Christian refrained from shaking his head. He was still new to this. Still learning to empathize, and understand.
After all, he wasn’t much better off than anyone else there. He was single, pregnant, and still sort of—self-resentful, as bad as that sounded.
“I’m never gonna fit in my tux,” Jim choked out. “We already had it altered three times and I keep outgrowing it. She’s blaming the tailor.”
The rest of the group stared at Jim, some looking sympathetic, some, just fascinated.
“And the cake samples we got — I ate them all before she could even see them. No fucking self-control. I’m just ruining everything. I feel like a monster and this baby just keeps growing.” He started sobbing, his closest neighbor awkwardly patting his back and offering tissues, Jim’s belly quaking with each shuddering breath.
“It’s going to be okay,” Oliver offered.
Jim gave a jerky nod. “You’re all invited to the wedding,” he managed. “First weekend of May.”
Everyone stared at him.
“Thank you for sharing, Jim,” said Oliver. “I know this has been hard, but you are so strong, and so brave.”
Everyone clapped quietly, some looking like they didn’t want to.
“Who else would like to share?” Oliver continued. “I see that we have a newcomer.” His gaze shifted to the very, very pregnant young man who Christian had sighted walking into the library earlier.
The young man went a little stiff in his seat, but nevertheless gave a nod. “Sure,” he said evenly. “My name is Simon. I…used to play soccer.”
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