Regret, Part 3 (Patreon)

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Summary: A young man in college with a male pregnancy fetish pumps himself full of fertility medicine. He then purposefully gets pregnant by his boyfriend. As his belly grows, so does his discomfort, regret, and horror in realization that pregnancy is not all that he thought it would be. Conversely, his boyfriend's interest and fascination in male pregnancy grow, and he begins to first secretly, then blatantly attempt to do whatever he can do to make the lad's pregnant belly as big as possible. Idea submitted by NLH

Previous Chapter

-

“I don’t think I got it,” said Elliott when he came home one evening. He had been on another interview for an internship in the city.

Andrew had already ordered two extra-large double-cheese pizzas. “I’m sorry El,” he said as he pushed his math textbook aside, then patted the spot on the couch beside him.

Elliott sat down, allowing Andrew to curl his arm around him and pull him close.

Elliott was wearing another new shirt, this one a button down, stitched to accommodate the jut of Elliott’s abdomen. The clothing costs were really stacking up. Maternity clothing was pricey as it was, but men’s maternity clothes were even more expensive. It was just too niche and not a lot of manufacturers produced it. Over the past couple of weeks, Andrew had noticed Elliott repeatedly buying and outgrowing things, at which point the article of clothing would be rendered useless. They would have to talk; figure something out. Money had already been tight before the pregnancy.

“Maybe it’s just not…practical, right now,” said Andrew delicately. Obviously, Elliott couldn’t go on job interviews in a baggy sweatshirt. He wore fitted button-downs and blazers that couldn’t help revealing his condition. “Maybe it’s best to just wait until after the babies come,” Andrew continued.

“Yeah, I know I should. I just hate feeling useless,” Elliott responded.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Look at all you’re doing,” Andrew argued.

“Thanks,” said Elliott with a soppy smile. He’d been emotional lately.

The doorbell rang. “That must be dinner,” said Andrew, kissing Elliott’s nose before he got up and went to answer.

“Pizza again?” Elliott complained, but Andrew could see the way Elliott inhaled as the aroma of greasy mozzarella saturated the air. Andrew set the pizza boxes on the coffee table by the couch, before he went to the kitchen to grab some plates and napkins. When he returned to the living room, Elliott was already two slices in.

Elliott had never been big on pizza, or take-out in general, but the babies certainly seemed to like it. And sometimes Elliott just needed comfort food after a long day.

Andrew sat back down and nipped at a slice, but mostly just watched Elliott gobble his way through the food. Elliott’s face was flushed from the effort of stuffing it down. Halfway through the first pie, he leaned back to catch his breath. Somehow it was a beautiful sight to Andrew. Elliott huffed and puffed, then ate some more.

-

It was a week later and a busy day despite it being the weekend. Andrew spent most of the afternoon in the kitchen, preparing his signature lasagna—the only dish he could make that he was particularly proud of. In contrast, Elliott was spending the day lounging on the couch, as was appropriate, most of his energy being sapped by the rapid development of their five babies. Regularly, Andrew would bring him something to munch on. A sub sandwich. A plate of meatballs. A big slice of chocolate cake. Some chips with cheese dip.

Elliott would eat it mechanically, just stuffing food in his mouth as he watched TV. One of his hands idly cupped his belly, which was truly stretching out the t-shirt he was wearing.

Andrew was liking this experience more and more. He had always thought the male pregnancy models and videos Elliott had been enamored with were kind of this dumb, silly thing. He had never really understood the fetish. Not until lately. Not until he was personally watching his own boyfriend grow, and now Andrew was veritably obsessed.

Just how big was Elliott going to get?

Andrew couldn’t wait to find out.

Andrew went to the living room to retrieve some of the dirty dishes piled on the coffee table. “You better get ready for dinner,” he mentioned.

Elliott gave a belch and blinked up Andrew. “It’s already dinner time?” he said incredulously, craning his neck to look out the window. “God, why’d you let me pig out?”

“You seemed hungry,” said Andrew cheekily. “Now get dressed. Our parents will be here in fifteen.”

Elliott rolled his eyes as he swung his legs off the sofa. He clutched his belly as he gripped the arm of the couch with his other hand. He heaved himself up with a groan and effort that it had not necessitated just a month ago.

Andrew returned to the kitchen and started loading pots into the dishwasher. It was that dreaded occasion. Time to break the news to their parents. Both Andrew and Elliott would have preferred to wait longer, but Elliott was just showingsignificantly. If Andrew and Elliott didn’t tell them now, they would probably find out by some secondhand means.

Within five minutes, Elliott’s parents arrived. They were predictably condescending as they glanced around the quaint apartment.

“This is cute, dear,” Annette noted as Andrew supplied her with a glass of wine, full to the brim. “Oh, you brought out the big table and everything. What’s the occasion?”

“Nothing really. Well, it’s a surprise,” said Andrew awkwardly.

“Well it’s good to see you, son,” said Elliott’s dad, Forrester, who gave a hard enough back-pat that Andrew winced. “Where’s Elliott?”

“He’s just getting changed,” said Andrew.

“Oooh, fancy,” said Annette conspiratorially as Forrester barked a laugh.

“Wine?” said Andrew as he filled a second glass and guided them to the collapsible dining table they had set up in the living room.

Andrew’s parents arrived only a couple minutes later, both a bit more reserved and offering thin smiles. Undeniably, they found this odd. Andrew and Elliott had never had them over like this before.

“Dad, you can sit right here. Elliott will be out in a minute,” Andrew assured.

But a minute passed, and Elliott had not come out, and things were getting awkward. This wasn’t exactly Andrew’s forte—entertaining a dinner party. It actually seemed more like Elliott’s thing.

“Why don’t I get him?” Andrew said, already stalking off from the scene of his mother sneering at Annette’s bright pink purse, and Annette asking Andrew’s father if he was wearing a hair-piece.

“Elliott, what the hell?” snapped Andrew as he entered their bedroom.

Elliott had gotten on a shirt, probably the best one he could find that still fit. Andrew noticed that it was the one from Elliott’s job interview last week. But it actually didn’t fit him, at least not anymore. It was clearly straining, cotton practically pasted against his belly. Andrew felt a thrill at the sight of it.

Elliott looked as though he was six months along even though he was only three. His bump was heaving with his heavy breathing. The breathlessness was at least partly contributed to the tight compression vest he had clearly squeezed his chest into. Now his breasts were flat enough that they weren’t detectable, not unless you were searching for them. Elliott’s breasts still disgusted him. And, perhaps, his whole body. Deep down, Elliott still wanted to be a slender little model with a cute little bump, not this plump, motherly thing he was steadily becoming.

“I j-just,” Elliott stammered. “I don’t have anything to wear. I don’t think that I can do this.”

“Elliott, you have to.”

Elliott gulped.

Andrew took his hand. “I’m right here. We’re in this together.”

Elliott weakly nodded.

And so, they walked out together into the living room. Their parents, whose conversation was bordering on a group argument, were late to notice the pair. But progressively, the four of them fell silent, all staring at Elliott in shock.

“Yeah,” Andrew managed, trying to smile through his nervousness. “Well, er…”

“What is this?” said Annette.

“Andrew, what’s going on?” Andrew’s mother asked him in puzzlement.

“We’re having a baby,” Andrew said.

“Is this a joke?” asked Forrester with a disturbed look on his face.

“No, it’s real,” Elliott finally spoke. His quavering hands cupped his stomach.

“We just saw you two months ago,” Forrester insisted.

Elliott reddened. “Well…that had to have been three, I think? Maybe.”

The four parents just looked at Andrew and Elliott as though they were insane.

“How is this even possible?” asked Andrew’s dad uneasily.

“What the hell have you done to my son!?” Forrester demanded of Andrew.

“I-I’m the one who wanted it,” Elliott cut in, his blush only deepening. “This was m-mychoice.”

“Forrester, calm down,” said Annette.

But Forrester had gone rigid with fury. “You little shit,” he seethed. “I was supportive when you came out as gay, but this — this is just next level, Elliott. Why the hell would you do this to yourself!?”

By then, Annette was crying. Elliott looked as though he was barely hanging on himself.

“So what now?” Forrester snapped. “You want money?”

“No, dad,” Elliott choked out. “We — we just thought you would like to know about y-your grandchildren.”

“Children?”Annette cut in, eyes wide.

Elliott nodded.

“Twins?” she asked.

Elliott pressed his lips and couldn’t respond. He was shaking even more.

“Can we all just sit down and talk this out?” Andrew asked.

It seemed Forrester had heard enough. “It’s good to see your college savings being put to good use,” he snarked as he stood, still staring at his son. Forrester lifted his wine glass, finishing it off in one gulp. “This is over, Elliott. I’m cutting you off. Your behavior — this is just disgusting.”

“Dad,” Elliott pleaded.

But Forrester was already storming off. He slammed the door so hard behind him that everyone flinched, and Andrew wouldn’t have been surprised if he had broken it.

Annette stood as well, fumbling to pick up her purse as she blinked back her tears. “I’m sorry,” she managed. She hesitated, before hurrying over to Elliott and giving him a quick embrace. She pulled back to stare down at his swell, looking daunted just by the sight of it. Then she stepped away, backing towards the door. “I’m sorry.” She, too, left.

The room was frozen in an uncomfortable silence, until finally Elliott pulled his hand free of Andrew’s and hurried back in the direction of their bedroom.

-

The dinner had not gone…well, to say the least.

Andrew would not have classified any of their parents as being “supportive.” His own parents had mostly been in shock, their response to the pregnancy limited to things like “right,” and “okay.” They were still wrapping their heads around it, but Andrew thought they would come around. Hopefully.

It certainly could have been worse. As evidenced by Forrester and Annette’s responses.

Elliott was depressed. He stayed in bed for days, doing little more than sleeping, eating, and staring at the television mounted to the wall. He didn’t even look at his phone or laptop when Andrew brought them over. He didn’t seem to want any contact with the outside world.

He ate a lot, burying his woes in sugar and take-out, and whatever other things he craved. Andrew knew it was wrong to supply Elliott with pastries and donuts when he was in this state, yet Andrew was willing to do anything to cheer Elliott up. At least he was eating. In the past, when Elliott got depressed, he would do the opposite extreme of just starving himself.

It took a week and a half before Andrew managed to drag him out of bed. “If you miss any more classes you’re gonna get expelled,” Andrew told him.

“What does it matter? It’s not like I can pay for next semester,” said Elliott bitterly.

“We’ll figure something out.”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll take some extra shifts at Clink, and work Saturdays, and then…we’ll still be fucking broke,” he grumbled.

It was interesting to see Elliott out of bed. Because one could really see his belly when he was properly upright, and Andrew could take in how much Elliott had grown in just the past week and a half that he had been lying down stuffing his face with creampuffs at any given moment. Elliott fidgeted and tugged at his shirt, which just slid back up, revealing several inches of his swollen abdomen.

“Let me make you some coffee,” said Andrew, as he pulled Elliott along to the kitchen. “And…maybe it’s not such a bad thing. Taking next semester off courses. We’re having five babies. You might actually need a break.” Andrew suspected that Elliott was in some sort of denial about how substantially their lives would change in only a few months time.

Elliott plopped down on a chair at the small kitchen table. “So then I just become a housewife?”

“You are neither a woman nor my spouse,” said Andrew as he started to boil some water.

“Right,” said Elliott tightly.

Andrew glanced his way. “El?”

“Should we?” said Elliott, his face coloring. He looked very nervous all of a sudden.

Andrew went to the table, sitting beside him and taking his hands. “I mean — I would love to,” he assured. “In a heartbeat. But we…it’s not the best time…not remotely. We're already so overstretched financially, especially after your dad…” Andrew stopped himself from going on. He had just gotten Elliott out of bed, no need to upset him all over again.

“Right,” Elliott repeated, teeth gritted into a self-deprecating smile and it was a little heartbreaking. He had never been so insecure about their relationship before. This pregnancy just just throwing everything off-kilter.

“We could…elope?” said Andrew. “It actually sounds kind of fun. Go to City Hall? Keep it a secret. We could do a big ceremony later. When we’re ready.”

Elliott embraced him fiercely, and Andrew was happy to hold his whole new family, all six of them, in his arms. Their parents’ opinions were irrelevant.

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