Home Artists Posts Import Register

Content

Story Directory: $5 Patrons
Story Directory: $10 Patrons
Story Directory: $20 Patrons

Story Schedule

Note: This is a male version of Delayed.

Summary: A man makes web cam videos, and is paid to display his  pregnancy online. The bigger he grows, the more money he makes. He  even takes drugs to delay labor to maximize his income, and promises his clients that he will give birth naturally, and livestream it. People even start  placing bets on the day he’ll finally give birth. The man  pushes himself to his absolute limit, and finally can’t hold his babies in any longer. He makes the final arrangements and gets ready to  induce himself, when suddenly, at the very last moment, an anonymous  follower offers him $10,000,000 to put off his delivery for another month, and sends an advance of $1,000,000 just so he knows he’s  serious. Contains: Male: pregnancy, belly expansion, breast expansion, and more.

Previous Chapter 

-

"You WHAT!?" said Brad in outrage.

Peter was a sobbing mess. "I never wanted to hurt you," he forced out through the uncomfortable shudders of his belly. "It was—it was just goodbye. Parting between me and Richard. I hadn't known how s-serious things would become between you and me, Brad. I never intended for this to happen. I j-just wanted a fresh start between the t-two of us."

"So you lied to me all this time." Brad motioned to the huge swell presently perched on Peter’s lap where Peter was seated on the living room couch. "You had me thinking I was responsible for—god," Brad shook his head. He went to the living room closet and forcefully opened the door where he tore his jacket off a hanger before shoving his arms into the sleeves.

"B-Brad," Peter stammered. "Please—"

"How did you think I was going to react?" said Brad, his voice cracking. "It's over. You—you tricked me. And you lied. None of this was ever even real."

"Brad, that's not true!" Peter protested, but Brad had already pulled open the front door and was marching out of the house. Peter couldn't have gone after him had he tried. He felt pinned to the couch beneath the weight of his body and anxieties.

He had known this was coming for a while but it was still devastating to face the reality of it. He would have only the night to process the break up, because in the morning, Richard would be dropping the kids off.

Peter had at least been prepared for the likelihood of Brad dumping him. He had a nanny already picked out, due to arrive the following afternoon.

It was still rough, to be pregnant and single. Peter was free of the issue of the growing tension with Brad, but in its place was a heavy sense of loneliness.

The next two weeks seemed to drag on at a snail's pace. He was growing and growing, while becoming withdrawn, because his discomfort took all his attention when he wasn't trying to get work done.

The new nanny would keep busy attending to the children while sometimes giving Peter looks of awe. Peter couldn't blame her.

He was massive. His belly was so huge it often felt as though it was crushing his thighs. He tried to spread his legs and get into different positions to keep his limbs from going numb. His belly was occupied by constant lurching movements that made it seem as though even the babies there were puzzled as to why they had yet to be born.

Peter missed his next court date. He couldn't be bothered to care. He knew that very soon he would be able to give birth, and Richard's case against him would be a non-issue.

Peter wore an assortment of huge T-shirts, most of them ill-fitting, yet they were the only things in his wardrobe that came close to accommodating his belly. The material would stretch over the swollen mound, a generous portion of his belly bulging out beneath. The fabric hugged onto his hugely swollen breasts. Peter usually went braless because anything else was unbearable on his tender nipples.

It was getting truly difficult to stay mobile. He felt unbalanced most times he got to his feet, and had to grip onto walls and other fixtures just to feel confident moving forward. It was a huge strain on his hips and back. His belly felt low, pressing heavily on his pelvis and plump backside. He felt beyond ready to start pushing. He just had to complete his end of the deal.

It was his final night of the pregnancy, as the following day, Peter would get his payment and be able to give birth.

He was as relieved as he was miserable. He tried to contain his sobs, his belly pushing and shuddering, at times looking as though it was swelling out with the visible pulsations. He truly looked as though he was about to burst. He was a month and a half overdue with triplets, and he felt every inch of their weight and pressure in his body. The movements had become twitchy and lethargic, as though there was just no space left for them to move around inside him.

Peter's face was red, his skin soaked in sweat as he squirmed, panted, and tried to contain his groans. He thought his belly was almost as big as he was. It felt like a bolder against his torso.

"Peter, are you...okay?" asked Pam, the nanny, giving that alarmed look she seemed to perpetually wear when Peter was around.

It took Peter a moment to respond. He felt a bit delirious. "Y-yes. Of course.” He didn't even try to force a smile. He didn't think his lips could contort that way anymore.

"Right. Okay. Well the kids are down for the night. Are you sure there isn't anything else you need?"

"Have a good night, Pam," Peter whispered.

Pam nodded and walked off. Peter could hear the sounds of her gathering her things, but didn't have the energy to turn his head to watch. The door opened.

"'Night," said Pam.

Then the door closed and all was silent.

Peter didn't envy what he had to do next.

It took an hour just to will himself to get up, but he didn't have much of a choice by that point. His whole lower body was aching, his backside feeling impossibly heavy and pressurized, and for the umpteenth time, he resisted the urge to just start trying to push despite the fact that he wasn't in labor.

There was a cane and walker near his spot on the couch. Peter grabbed for the walker this time. He really should have considered hiring additional help, but it had seemed wasteful to get someone just for the short remainder of his pregnancy.

Peter grunted out as he gripped the walker, pulling while forcing as much strength as he could to his legs.

When he finally got up, his belly bumped into the arms of the walker, because it was wider than the device and thus didn't have much space at all. He moaned, one of his hands moving to cup the underside of his belly, though it did little to help. He had to get to bed.

Peter inched forward.

His honeydew-sized breasts bobbed and jiggled on his chest as he took gasps of air, struggling to fill his lungs. As he got to his bedroom he noticed that his belly was close to scraping either side of the doorframe. He couldn't believe how massive he had become.

He didn't bother with changing. He seemed to always be dressed in night clothes anyway. Peter was wearing an ill-fitting shirt and a pair of sweatpants that were stretched and shoved down over the recent growth of his hips and ass, some of his crack protruding over the hem.

When he sat down in bed, the largeness of his belly pushed his large breasts into his chin. He leaned back and had the air knocked out of his lungs as his weight fell against him, pinning him down. He gasped, struggled, and managed to roll onto his side.

As much as he usually liked being pregnant, he had taken it to a level beyond even his capacity for enjoyment. But it would all be over soon.

Tomorrow,he reminded himself, grimacing through the lurching movements in his stomach. This would all be over tomorrow, one way or another. He just had to hang on a little while longer, even if that entailed another night spent groaning and squirming through the shudders and movements, and decidedly not getting much sleep at all.

Peter dozed repetitively but never managed to fall into a deep slumber. He would wake up gasping or whining out, clutching his abdomen as it heaved and throbbed. Other times it trembled, his muscles contracting even though he wasn't in labor. It was the sheer strain.

He got up in the morning feeling completely exhausted, but told himself that he had adrenaline to rely on when the time came.

When Richard came to pick up the kids, he no longer looked angry or offended, he just looked rather scared. By then he had given up on trying to reason with Peter.

"The courts will not be pleased that you missed your last date," Richard said. "It's an illegal offense. And where children are involved—"

"I couldn't care less," Peter cut him off. "Do I look like I'm in any condition to be wasting time with your pointless efforts to harass me?"

Richard's face twisted in a sour look but he kept his mouth shut. He left with the kids and Peter was relieved to be rid of him. Almost as much as he missed him. And longed for him. Wanted him beside him over the course of what would be a long and painful delivery.

It will all be over after today, Peter thought again, repeating it in his head like a mantra. It helped keep his spirits up. That, and the awareness that he was going to be very wealthy very soon. He would be untouchable to Richard and the courts. He wouldn't need to work at all if that suited him.

Throughout the day he could barely eat. It wasn't just nerves. He felt truly stuffed. His nipples had started leaking relentlessly. The new doula was scheduled to arrive later that afternoon, which was when Peter would be induced.

Maybe his eagerness was getting the best of him, because he felt as though he was straining to contain them.

He was so big. Most of his time was spent sprawled somewhere clutching what he could of his mass. He didn't even know how he was going to give birth to babies of this size. The time came to prep for the live stream, which proved an arduous process of staggering and sweating as he set up his computer and camera. He didn't bother with dressing in a particularly nice or provocative manner. He just donned shorts and a tank top, both of which he had outgrown a while ago. He was too exhausted to do anything more. The doorbell rang and Peter just managed to drag himself into the living room, gasping by then. "Come in!" he called out.

A woman entered. She looked to be in her thirties and was carrying a large workbag. Peter had never met the new doula in person before, but Amy had been keen and optimistic, and had never asked too many questions in their online interactions. At that moment, however, Amy caught sight of Peter's massive midsection, and just looked shocked.

"Mr—P-Pryce?" she managed.

"It's so nice to finally meet you," said Peter as amiably as he could, while struggling to keep it together. "Shall we get started?"

Thankfully, Amy didn't flee. Instead she helped Peter to the bed in the office where Peter did his best to find a comfortable position that would still facilitate labor.

"Ready?" said Amy nervously. She was holding a syringe that would inject a powerful induction drug directly into Peter's bloodstream.

Peter nodded. "Let's get this over with."

Amy injected the drug and after a few moments Peter finally felt the first stirrings of labor deep in his core.

Peter gasped as his belly squeezed around his babies, shoving them downwards if just for the duration of the spasm. It was really happening!

"Your first contraction," Amy observed the heave. "That's a good sign." Her voice was airy and uncertain. She kept her phone close.

Peter had his cell phone as well, though he had no intention of using it to call for medical support. He had his bank account open and was constantly reloading the screen, waiting for his nine-million-dollar payment to populate and his balance to update. A deal was a deal, after all.

As Peter was hit with his second contraction, there was a forceful pounding on the front door.

Amy startled. "I'll see who it is." She walked off as Peter grimaced. Now was not the time for interference. He imagined it was one of the men in his life wanting to fight some more. The sheer thought was draining.

The reality was worse. His office door burst open and two police officers marched in, Amy standing helplessly behind them. "Peter Pryce, you are under arrest for child endangerment, contempt of court, and contract breach."

Comments

No comments found for this post.