Midlife, Part 3 (Patreon)

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Summary: Tom is in his mid-forties. Comfortably married in suburbia  with his wife, office job, and his 2.5 kids getting ready for college, Jim finds himself immersed in an affair with a fit young biogeneticist. Jim  has no idea why he's gaining so much weight, and his wife has started making remarks about it. Little does he know, his secret boyfriend is not only experimenting on him but breeding him. Worse, Jim can apparently get pregnant additional times while already pregnant, and end up carrying multiple babies of different gestational ages. Its only a matter of time before his secret affair comes to light. That, in addition to other things.

Previous Chapter

-

Tom was doing his best to hide his condition from his family, but his efforts were getting futile. He was already pushing the limits in terms of plausible weight gain. His "late nights at the office" were only getting later. Recently he even convinced Penny he was going on a business trip so he could spend a whole weekend at Ian's, relaxed and free of the baggy clothes and layers he had taken to wearing constantly when he was at work or at home.

The times that he did go home, Tom's efforts to cover up grew all the more desperate. He was constantly holding things in front of him or folding his arms awkwardly. He never let Penny see him unclothed anymore, and only ever went to bed when Penny was already asleep or at least lying still with the lights off. Most of his time there was spent locked in his home office, insisting that he was doing extra work, while actually sitting slumped back in his desk chair, breathing, and fidgeting in his increasingly ill-fitting clothes.

His face was getting fuller. His belly was objectively round. One night, Tom tensed when he felt Penny reach out to stroke his arm. He turned away from her so his full gut was as far from her reach as possible. He pulled the blankets closer to his body because he knew the simple t-shirt he had donned to bed offered little in terms of concealment.

His body was hot and throbbing, his stomach churning uncontrollably. What if she reached out and touched it. What if—what if she felt the baby move?

"Tom, what's going on?" Penny murmured in clear frustration.

"Nothing," Tom responded. "Just tired. From work." Blaming work had become his default. He held his breath and hoped she would let it go, because Tom had little idea how he was supposed to explain that he, a middle aged man, was somehow pregnant. And he didn't want to face the inevitably of his life breaking to pieces when everyone not only found out that he was a freak, but unfaithful as well.

Penny released an irritated sigh. She pulled away, turning in the opposite direction to face the wall. Tom breathed a sigh of relief. His arms folded over his torso.

-

Tom was half-hard all the time. He couldn't believe how horny he was. The tension between him and Ian had evolved to peaceful coexistence. One evening, Tom was beginning to doze on Ian's couch, when his eyebrows furrowed. "Moving again," he mumbled, rubbing his face. His free hand curled over the mound which was bulging free of his shirt, as he had undone the lower buttons. His work clothes were getting uncomfortable again. He would have to go up another size soon.

Tom looked up to see that Ian was staring at him from the recliner, the large book in his hands momentarily forgotten.

"You can um, feel if you want," Tom muttered before he really thought it through.

Ian closed his book. It looked like some medical text, perhaps something related to his Phd program. Or maybe it was related to Tom, and the ongoing "experiment," that being the baby. It didn't matter, because Ian set the book down, and slowly got up, always seeming so predatory and keen. Tom half-considered recanting the invitation, when Tom sidled down next to him and laid both hands on the bump.

Tom gasped at the contact. Ian hadn't touched him in a while. He felt his dick stir.
Ian's eyes were wide with wonder. "Incredible," he murmured. "God, you have to let me run a scan." His hands rubbed over Tom's skin, causing Tom to squirm.

"I'm not your fucking project," Tom bit back breathily.

"To check on the baby," Ian countered. "God you've done so good. Getting so big. And movement." Ian kissed him.

Tom allowed it. Indulged in it. It had only been a few weeks, but he was absolutely starved for intimacy. He felt himself melting, submitting, falling for Ian all over again. There was a grumbling noise that caused Ian to freeze and Tom to cringe.

Ian slowly pulled back.

"You're hungry," said Ian, his hand idly stroking the mound.

Tom shook his head in protest even as his stomach grumbled again. His cheeks reddened.

"Tom?" Ian questioned.

"I feel like I've been eating nonstop," Tom admitted. "Just thought I'd take a break."

"You know you're supposed to be growing. The appetite is normal. The baby's just telling you what it needs."

Tom frowned. "I'm just getting so damn big—"

"It's a good thing," Ian insisted. "It's going to happen whether you like it or not. Stop punishing yourself. Stop punishing our baby."

Tom tried to swallow back the surge of guilt that welled in his throat. He knew Ian was right. There was no fighting nature.

"Let me make you dinner," said Ian.

"Okay," said Tom quietly.

"Anything you're craving particularly?"

Tom shook his head. "Oh, just everything."

"I'll see what I can do," Ian chuckled as he leaned over to kiss him again.

-

Tom knew the more he grew, the healthier the baby was. Yet the harder the pregnancy became to hide. It was troubling, but Tom decided to stop being so shallow as to trying to curb his growth. He began to eat more frequently, allowing his cravings to guide him. He found himself snacking constantly, his growth really beginning to surge.

Ian welcomed it. He took to feeding Tom, and really seemed to be enjoying it. He took to putting foods to Tom's lips and asking for feedback. One day while sprawled back in Ian's bed, Tom allowed himself to actually be hand-fed by Ian. It was strangely intimate and enjoyable, to lazily open his mouth and take in bites of sweet sticky pastry, eating it gulp by gulp in an endless cycle, with his eyes closed as he savored the flavor and drifted to the sounds of pages turning in the latest textbook Ian was perusing. Lying there in bed with Ian was strangely domestic yet somehow more peaceful than things had ever been with Penny. Maybe it was the pregnancy. Tom was getting heavier, slower, lazier, and more mellow. He swallowed bites as he felt himself fill to the brim, and yet he ate more, because Ian kept supplying, and it was all so delicious, and he was just so content.

What followed was a growing tension and heat that had him groaning quietly. He lightly cupped his round belly. What was this baby doing to him? "Mgghhh..." he groaned, arching slightly.

"You okay?" said Ian.

"Nghhh...yeah...I..."

Something popped, causing Tom to gasp. He panted as he rubbed his belly, realizing instantly what had occurred. He felt the way his belly button was now protruding outward, making a visible knot under his shirt. "Oh god," Tom breathed, hands cupping it, trying to cover it up.

Ian pulled Tom's hands away. He seemed delighted. "It's alright."

"No it's not," snapped Tom, feeling a resurgence of his earlier panic. He looked at the bulge queasily. "I don't look heavy or fat, I look pregnant. Just—pregnant. I'm getting huge and my wife's going to leave me. My kids will hate me. My job's gonna fire me. I'm a damn freak. You—you made me a freak."

"We're having a baby," Ian responded with his usual calm. He smoothed his hand over Tom's popped button so lovingly that Tom felt somewhat deflated, tension subsiding.

"You're really...happy about this," Tom noted uneasily.

"I am," Ian agreed.

-

Sid’s birthday was coming up, but Tom just couldn't bring himself to make an appearance. He was starting to look like a blimp. He had already skipped out on his wedding anniversary and a planned dinner to meet Kim's new boyfriend, citing the seemingly perpetual demands of work. He barely saw his family anymore, except when he snuck in or out of the house, usually late at night, to grab some of his things. He took to wearing large amorphous coats, but there was just no hiding The Bump on his thin frame.

People were getting angry. His wife, kids, even members of his extended family. Penny left him a tearful voicemail, and it was apparent that everyone assumed he was having an affair. Which wasn't exactly inaccurate.

And as angry as everyone was with Tom for his elusive and withdrawn behavior, it was still preferable to them finding out the truth. He just needed this thing out of him, then he could figure out things from there.

His abdomen was large and round. He looked the way Penny had when she was eight months along with Sid. It weighed heavily on his core, and more often than not, Tom had an embarrassing erection that left him in a constant fluster whether he attended to it or not.

He had—breasts now. Actual breasts. They were round and warm, and probably rivaled the size of Penny's B-cups. Though his seemed a lot more bloated somehow, nipples stinging in a way that exacerbated his constant state of arousal.

Tom was spending more time than ever with Ian. And Ian was uncomfortably accommodating. He even provided Tom with sweatpants, T-shirts, and other casual clothes that were big enough to contain Tom's swelling body, so that he could be comfortable around the apartment.

As much as Tom felt resentment towards Ian for doing this to him, he couldn't help getting sentimental at times. He was carrying their baby. Tom blamed the hormones for the way he melted every time Ian looked at him. Sometimes he just got needy, and found himself attached to Ian's side every chance he got, allowing Ian's hand to idly glide over his skin, exploring the movements contained by the swell as Tom shifted to endure the ceaseless arousal until Ian slid his hand lower and attended to Tom properly.

-

Tom awoke up one morning, gasping.

He turned to his side, shifting his weight off his core. He rubbed his face, sighed, and slowly willed himself to get up.

Lately Tom only went in to the office about once a week. The other days, he worked remotely on his computer, having convinced his boss that this was necessary because of an ongoing family emergency (which was almost, sort of, the truth).

On the one day a week that Tom did go to work, he endured stares from his colleagues. After all, his girth was impossible not to notice by that point. All the amorphous sweaters and baggy button-downs could do little to hide the sharp jut of his abdomen. Tom tried to get in early and just duck off into his office as fast as he could waddle—he had actually begun to waddle. Him—a mid-forties man with two kids and a 401k, was pregnant and waddling.

Tom also usually stayed late on his days at the office, and tried to leave when the sun was setting, and he was exhausted and sore, and only the janitorial staff was left to stare at him.

It was that day of the week, and he was already having a slow start.

Whereas at Ian's Tom could wear just a tank top and a pair of shorts, not minding the way flesh bulged beneath the hem of his shirt, or how the material stretched against his growing body, Tom slowly worked his way into a pair of professional maternity pants that could pass as trousers, and a button down shirt that had been loose a few days before, but now felt rather snug at his gut and chest.
He held his lower belly, breathing heavily as he made his way for the door. It was 7AM, and Ian hadn't twitched, hadn't even moved an inch from his place prone on the bed. But he had always been a heavy sleeper and wasn't much of a morning person. Neither was Tom these days.

I'm late, Tom thought as he eased himself down in his car. Getting himself up and dressed seemed to take longer every day. Normally lateness was hardly an issue for someone of his rank on the corporate ladder, but the office would be packed by the time he arrived. It wouldn't be discreet at all.

Tom tried to breathe evenly, cheeks pink from the general exertion of moving around. His belly was perched snugly in his lap, slightly pressing against the steering wheel. He swore, he looked almost due by then. Though he knew he wasn’t. Ian said he still had more time.

Tom muttered curses under his breath. His stomach churned and his tender, swollen nipples rubbed rousingly against his top. And god, they were really sticking out these days, really swollen and visible despite his undershirt. Trying to push past the various conflicting sensations running through his body, Tom started the car. "Let's get this over with," he grumbled as he backed out of his parking spot.

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