Kompera
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Belly Contest
🕑 Added 2021-12-28 23:44:16 +0000 UTCNote: This is a story-prompt for Absolus.
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It was a ridiculous contest, and it was below him at that. But then, $5,000 was nothing to sneeze at.
The cutoff was 38 weeks. Tim had fudged the dates on his application to ensure that he qualified. This was hardly fraud. It was just some silly belly contest. It would be an easy win and easy money, then Tim could but this whole thing behind him and have this baby with a nice little check for diapers and a few pilates sessions.
Tim had passed the preliminary round with flying colors. He was the favorite to win. The contest was tomorrow; just a couple of hours. It was no big deal. Simon was clearly blowing things out of proportion.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Simon asked for the 500th time. “I just think you’re pushing yourself too far. You’re almost a month overdue, Tim! The doctor said it’s past time to induce.”
Tim was examining himself in the full-length mirror that stood in the corner of their bedroom. His belly was truly impressive. He watched the skin bulge slightly to the left of his navel as the baby kicked out. His hands continued to rub into the flesh, coating it with another layer of lotion. The skin was soft and unblemished. It had to be perfect for the contest. “Can you pass me that box?” Tim pointed to a container sitting on the nightstand. Simon rolled his eyes and retrieved it for him.
Tim reached inside and retrieved a powdered donut hole, popping it into his mouth. He had been eating a lot extra this past week, trying to squeeze in another inch or two of growth before the contest. There was a sudden spike of tension. Tim’s face twisted.
“What is it?” said Simon. “Are you okay? Was that a —?”
“Just another Braxton Hicks,” Tim managed, nearly rolling his eyes as Simon’s face fell in disappointment. “Can you chill the hell out? I don’t want to get triggered before I win that money.” Tim lifted the box of donuts and waddled off, cupping the underside of his mound. She swore, he looked like he could’ve been overdue with twins by then. “Look at how big you’ve gotten. I need you to hold on just a little longer, buddy,” he murmured to his stomach. “You and me, we’re gonna win some money together.”
In the next room, Simon released an exasperated sigh.
-
It was finally the day of the contest. Tim thought he might’ve over done things with all the eating. He was so tight and bloated, he felt as though he might split in two.
But he maintained a smile that whole morning. He was waiting backstage for his turn to perform, when a clenching pain rolled through his core, causing him to grunt out.
“Hey, are you okay?” another contestant asked.
Tim ignored him, rubbing his stomach as the pain passed. That had been more than a Braxton Hicks. It had actually been quite painful. He breathed deeply, trying to stay calm. He was in labor.
It can take hours, Tim reasoned, not allowing himself to panic. Days, even. He just had to take things slow and keep this to himself. After the contest, he could go straight to the hospital, if things had even progressed that far. Tim had this competition in the bag.
“Timothy Walker!” the announcer called.
Lifting his chin, Tim moved out onto stage as smoothly as his swollen body would allow. He could hear the audience falling into gasps and whispers as he made his grand entrance. He shoved his belly outward even through the discomfort. At the end of the catwalk, he posed and smiled, not flinching as cameras flashed at him from all angles. He was greased up and wearing nothing but a pair of leather pants, every curve of his body on display to the spectators.
Another sharp pain, this time accompanied by a squeezing sensation. His belly trembled, but Tim struggled not to move, sweat trickling down the side of his head as his smile became strained.
“The baby so active,” someone in the front row whispered between taking pictures of Tim’s belly.
The pose went longer than it should have. It was only as the pain started to eb that Tim could bring himself to turn around and walk off, taking the opportunity to draw in gasps of air now that the crowd couldn’t see his face anymore.
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He just had to get through the talent portion of the contest. Tim spent a full hour locked in the bathroom, leaned back against the wall, rubbing his belly as he breathed through contractions that were rapidly worsening in intensity. “Easy,” he pleaded as he came off the latest one, mound heaving. “Just a little longer, you huge little brat.” He leaned his head back, panting and groaning. God, he was massive. This baby was going to be hell to push out.
There was a brisk knock on the door. “Tim, you’re on in five,” someone called.
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If it was a show they wanted, a show they would have. He had to go hard or go home. Tim was dressed as a sexy cop that had far outgrown his uniform, the tight material serving to emphasize his curve, making it look even more massive than it already was. He had practiced the dance 100 times in the past, but only now it was excruciating as he twisted his legs and swiveled his thighs through forceful contractions. He pumped his hips and popped his abdomen out so the audience pointed and murmured. He could practically feel his belly shifting lower, his baby jamming against his pelvis, getting into position as his backside swelled and he tried not to sob out. The crowd marveled at the rippling movements as his belly shuddered with contractions. He was red; sweating like a pig. But he refused to admit defeat.
When the dance was over, he had to refrain from gripping his ass, and fight the urge to push. Instead he clutched his belly in what he hoped to resemble tender happiness and not anguished desperation. Just a little longer! He released a cry of pain as he bowed, but thankfully the applause drowned out the sound. Then he all but staggered off stage.
-
“And the winner is…Timothy Walker!” The announcer shouted, to deafening applause.
Tim had done it. He had actually won! She cried, not from happiness, but because the contractions were so forceful he felt like he might explode. He got all but dragged out onto the stage, hugging his low, heaving abdomen, trying to hold on just a minute longer. A glitter-adorned woman approached him, a crown raised high in her hands.
There was a splash of fluid. His water broke! People gasped, cried out, pointed. Panic ensued.
“Someone call an ambulance!” said the announcer.
But Tim couldn’t contain this thing any longer. The back of his pants began to tent out. He hunched down, hugging himself, screaming.
It was time.
