Heir, Part 2 (Patreon)

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Summary: Ian is the last in line to the throne, and the only way to pass down  his family’s magic is by carrying an heir himself. Though the idea is  unpleasant to him, and in fact, unheard of, Connor enlists several witch  doctors and warlocks, who manage to get him in a state of pregnancy,  but he constantly miscarries. As he goes on without an heir, domestic  unrest grows, and the country is on the brink of a civil war. Connor’s  uncle enlists a unique warlock who utilizes both science and magic in  his procedures, and Connor soon finds himself more fertile than he’d  hoped or wanted. Contains: Male: pregnancy, breast expansion, butt expansion, weight gain.

Previous Chapter

-

It only took a few days for Ian to realize that something had changed.

Usually he was not much of an eater. He picked at food and scarcely had any interest in a full meal. But suddenly his appetite had surged. Not only was he eating full meals, but he was snacking in between them.

His skin was warm, dewy, and a bit pink at the cheeks. Sometimes he noticed his hand resting on his abdomen before catching himself and pulling it away. It was ridiculous. He didn’t even know if the procedure had worked. And if the warlock actually had been able to make Ian pregnant, it likely would not last. All of Ian’s prior pregnancies had not made it beyond the three-month point, after all.

In just three weeks, Ian started to bloat up to his alarm. The pregnancy had not even been confirmed, yet there was already a curve.

Between his leaking breasts and plump backside, it was a lot to deal with. Ian was a bit numb when he attended his next appointment with Turner.

“The insemination was a success,” said the warlock after running some tests.

Ian tried not to appear as sour as he felt. This pregnancy was even more disgusting than all the prior ones. “Yes, well hopefully it lasts.”

“I am optimistic, sire. You’re already carrying quite well.”

Ian did not know what that meant but he didn’t ask. His nose wrinkled. “Why am I already, erm, getting fat? I mean, here.” He motioned vaguely to his abdomen. “This only just started. Surely it couldn’t be growing so fast.”

“Perhaps it’s just your body adapting. You were quite thin. Needed some more fat stores to support the baby.”

“This never happened before.”

“Yes sire, but remember, we are taking a more conventional approach. We’re utilizing not just magic but your own biology. And the body is an amazing thing. It will take the biological processes necessary to support the child.”

Ian was not impressed by the explanation but he nodded.

“Shall we arrange to meet again in a week?” said Turner.

“Make that two.” Ian stepped down from the bed. He knew how this would go and it was hardly worth their efforts.

-

The condition was already proving quite disturbing for Ian. Breast development and butt growth had never occurred previously. Ian was used to looking in the mirror and seeing a young man who was slim and gently muscled. But lately he looked quite chubby and blatantly unnatural in the chest area.

He sat on the sidelines as he watched some of his mates play skibble, as they often did on the weekends.

“You joining, Ian?” asked Al. Al was the son of a diplomat and a good friend.

“I’m afraid not this time. But next month,” Ian assured.

Al just gave him an uncomfortable look, but didn’t say anything. It was a wise choice. Ian’s experimental pregnancies continued to be a taboo topic around the palace. It was awkward to address, not to mention embarrassing.

Ian waved Al off and the game proceeded. Can’t wait to get back on the field, Ian thought. He wouldn’t say that he was planning his own miscarriage, he was just being realistic, not getting his expectations all skewered like Turners’ seemed to be.

-

Ian’s appetite continued to surge. Not only was he eating full meals, but he was asking for extra at times. Suddenly food was delicious, and his belly, bottomless. This was another thing that had never happened with the previous pregnancies. It was odd, and Ian was beginning to worry about all the weight he was putting on. Hopefully it didn’t stick with him when this whole thing ended one way or another.

Once a week, Ian had a private dinner with his uncle as the two of them discussed political matters. Admittedly, it was difficult to focus on the mundane goings on of the palace. The growing occurrences of protests and crime were more interesting but also disheartening. Ian found himself more absorbed in the meal than Derrin’s dialogue. Ian sucked his bones clean and scraped every scrap of potatoes off his dish before he cut Derrin off to summon a waiter.

“Can I get more of the buttered string beans? And potatoes? It was delicious. Actually, can I just have—what do they call it—seconds?”

The waiter hurried off to get Ian another plate, and as Ian turned his gaze back forward, he saw that his uncle had gone quiet and was now smiling at him.

“You look like a young matron,” Derrin commented.

Ian’s face flushed.

“You’ve gotten plump, and in only a few weeks. Just look at how you’re eating. Practically licking your plate clean. Don’t be embarrassed, this is an exciting development.”

“Glad to be of some source of entertainment,” said Ian icily.

“You’re pregnant, Ian. I’m just relieved.”

Ian pressed his lips and said nothing. It was very typical of his uncle to get his hopes up.

Ian skipped his next appointment with the warlock. He was in an ill mood and didn’t want to deal with him. He rescheduled his next appointment to be in two weeks’ time.

-

It turned out to be four weeks before the next appointment.

Ian’s clothing seemed to be shrinking against him. And his subjects stared at him now, whenever they saw him about the palace. Ian knew this would be over soon but he was miserable. He stepped largely out of the public spotlight and kept to his quarters most days. During his public appearance at a charity dinner that simply could not be rescheduled, he wore some loose robes but knew he still looked thick about the waist. Ian was midway through his speech when his nipples ached and he felt the familiar sensation of them leaking, milk soaking into the bandages that bound the new mounds on his chest. This was becoming an increasingly common occurrence, and did not disrupt him until he heard some of his subjects gasping and muttering within the crowd, one person even pointing. Ian looked down at himself to see that patches of dampness had materialized on his ropes, having seeped through the bandages, and they were growing. He trailed off, staring down at himself in astonishment. Then came the mortification. Ian turned and briskly walked off.

He was furious. And perhaps that fury was undercut by his increasingly soft appearance. But Ian would not be forgiving to Turner, who was disfiguring Ian’s body over a simple experiment.

Somehow the impromptu tirade Ian was about to unleash on the warlock was thwarted by the excitement that filled Turner’s usually-solemn face.

“Prince Ian, you are showing. Oh my. You are far enough for some scans. Let us see what we’re working with.” Turner ushered Ian to the medical bed.

Ian allowed himself to be urged along, unexpectedly curious himself. It was true that the curve of his abdomen had only extended, his belly pushing out, creating a bulge in even his largest robes. He was no longer just plump, he was starting to actually look pregnant.

The scan was fairly quick. When Turner saw it, he gasped.

“What is it?” Ian asked, sitting partially upright by leaning on his elbows. Turner did not seem celebratory or even happy. Undoubtedly this was another failure.

“There are five,” said Turner.

“What?” said Ian in confusion. “Five what?”

“Children. You are carrying five.”

That was ludicrous. “You’re not serious?”

Turner allowed Ian to see the scans for himself.

Ian went numb. How was that even possible? What had the warlock done to him? “It’s not…viable?” Ian managed.

“Everything appears to be going smoothly so far. Quite well.”

“But…” Ian tried to gather his composure. “This couldn’t possibly work. This is ridiculous.”

“Sire, you are not to worry. Each embryo is growing perfectly fine. Everything is in order.”

Everything was not in order. There were five. That was insane. This could not possibly work with five. Ian was still trying to wrap his head around what the warlock was saying. “Do you think that I would be able to—Do you think it could even work with five?”

“In the old days, multiples were actually quite common. Of course your growth will be a bit more—substantial, but with careful monitoring—”

“I am not an animal. This is a damn litter.” Ian’s breathing was thinning. “This—this probably won’t work out anyway.”

“Sire, this has been an incredible success thus far. They are strong and your body is facilitating not rejecting as you experienced previously.”

There was a humming outside. Against the windows. At first it could’ve been ignored, but it was steadily intensifying. Ian dropped down from the bed and walked over to the windows, buttoning his shirt as he moved.

“Another protest?” asked Turner.

“Yes.” Ian drew in a deep draw of air. “Call my uncle.”

-

The three of them met in Derrin’s study, a place where Derrin liked to conduct more casual meetings. Ian sat down at the mahogany table there. Like the medical wing, the study was on the west side of the palace with a skewed view of the main entry gate and the palace courtyard, outside of which the protest was manifesting.

The sky was growing dark. A storm was coming.

Derrin was silent for a long while, staring out the window at the growing number of dissidents outside of the gate. Finally he turned around to face his guests. “This is better than expected,” he said.

Ian’s expression twisted but he didn’t look up from glaring at the table. “It’s too many.”

“There is nothing to be done. You are—this matter is delicate, Ian. And you’re in desperate need of heirs. We should be celebrating, not griping that you were given more than you wanted.”

There was a clap of thunder followed immediately by the sound of heavy rainfall, the sky darkening even more. The shouting chanting could be heard even over the rain: “The monarchy is dead!”

“It is true, there is nothing that can be done,” said Turner. “Even if termination was legal, it would be too dangerous for you and all the offspring. Perhaps if you had come to see me earlier…but even then….”

“Ian,” said Derrin. “It is time that we all accept your good fortune.”

“Have you gone mad uncle?” Ian stood. “Five babies? I’ll burst!”

There was a clanging noise outside. Perhaps the storm had increased the urgency or anger, because the protesters were now beating at the front gates.

“I’ll summon the royal guard,” said Derrin, and he left as though the matter was over.

“I assure you, the human body is fully capable of stretching to—”

“Stop,” said Ian, wrinkling his nose.

Of course, Ian could overrule them. Order Turner to terminate all five if he desired. How could there be so many? Ian looked down at his rounded abdomen. It was full of babies. Heirs.

The clanging was getting more loud and violent. Ian could hear the guards yelling for the protesters to back down. How long would these protests keep occurring?

After his parents’ passing, Ian had failed to win the hearts of the people.

“The monarchy is dead!”

“They think your family’s reign is already over,” said Turner quietly. “With no line, there is only uncertainty. They see no reason to be loyal.”

“Watch your tongue,” said Ian hotly.

There was a loud banging noise. Turner hurried to the window. “They’ve broken through gate. They might try to storm the palace. Sire, we should get you somewhere safe.”

But Ian was walking swiftly out of the room. He turned down the hall, towards the grand balcony directly overseeing the courtyard. It was where his parents had regularly spoken to their subjects to be showered with cheers of love and adulation. When Ian opened the doors and walked out, he was instantly soaked in the heavy torrential rain. But somehow through the storm, the screams, and the fighting, the people saw him.

Ian raised his arms, and the rain stopped pouring on him. He hesitated, and spread his arms. The scope of his magic spread as well, clouds parting as the storm cleared over the courtyard and the crowd. The people gradually calmed and gazed up at him in amazement, realizing what he had done. Even Ian was surprised by the depth of his power. This magic was beyond his capabilities. He looked at his belly, and so did everyone else. After all, his tunic was soaked through. His weight gain was obvious.

Perhaps this was the moment that he should have reassured them. He should have said something grand and inspiring as his mother had on countless occasions before.

But Ian had neither the charisma nor the certainty. “Please!” he shouted, his voice entreating beyond his intentions. “Indulge me.” And he left.