My little corner of haven.... Or hell.

Title: Nine Months of Denial

Story:

Three Months

Alex sat slouched on his couch, a half-empty bag of chips on the coffee table in front of him. His T-shirt pulled snugly across his stomach, the hem riding up just enough to show a soft curve he didn’t remember having a few months ago. He shoved another handful of chips into his mouth, grimacing when his waistband dug uncomfortably into his middle.

“Ughh… damn jeans,” he muttered, unbuttoning them with a sharp tug and sighing as the pressure eased. He rubbed his lower belly absently, then quickly pulled his hand away when it felt firmer than usual. His brow furrowed.

“Bloating. That’s all. Too much salt,” he whispered to himself, as though saying it aloud made it truer.

“Alex,” his coworker Jenna called from behind him in the office breakroom, “you’ve been hitting the snacks pretty hard, huh?” Her tone was teasing, but her eyes flickered down to his middle.

Alex stiffened, tugging his hoodie closed around himself. “What? No, I’m just… stress eating, you know?” He forced a laugh, though it came out too sharp. “Work’s killing me lately. Sitting all day. Beer belly incoming.”

Jenna tilted her head. “That doesn’t look like beer belly.”

He froze. “Excuse me?”

Her voice softened, almost cautious. “It’s just… you look like you’re—well, you’ve got this roundness, lower down. And you’ve been tired, and running to the bathroom more—”

“Okay, wow.” He held up his hands, backing toward the door, his ears burning red. “I am not pregnant, if that’s what you’re hinting. That’s—” he let out a sharp laugh, too loud for the room, “—that’s impossible. I don’t know where your brain’s at, but mine’s on coffee.” He grabbed his mug and stormed out, muttering under his breath, “Ridiculous…”

Later that night, Alex lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. His belly pushed upward more than it should have, a little dome that stubbornly stayed. He pressed it gently, testing, and felt something shift faintly inside.

He gasped, his hand flying away.

“…Gas. Just gas.”

The heaviness sat low in him, making his hips ache when he turned on his side. He groaned, gripping a pillow, his breath coming short. “I need to hit the gym. That’s all. God, I’m so out of shape…”

The dull cramp in his lower abdomen pulsed again, and he bit his lip, squeezing his eyes shut. For one terrifying second, the thought crossed his mind — but he shoved it away immediately.

“No. No way. Not me.” His voice trembled, but he forced out a weak chuckle. “Pregnant. As if.”

He pulled his hoodie over his head, curled up tight, and whispered into the dark:

“I’m fine. Just bloated. That’s all. Just bloated.”

But deep inside, beneath his hand where it rested on the swell of his stomach, something fluttered — so faint it could almost be imagined.

Alex didn’t dare acknowledge it.

Six Months

Alex tugged at the hem of his oversized hoodie, trying to force it lower as he crossed the café to meet his friends. The sweatshirt used to hang loose on him, but now the fabric stretched across a belly that jutted forward round and firm, the waistband of his joggers digging mercilessly into his hips.

“Alex!” called Brian, waving him over. “Dude, you’ve been hiding. Where’ve you been?”

“Busy,” Alex muttered, slipping into a chair. The hard surface pressed against his backside in a way that made him shift uncomfortably.

When he leaned forward to grab his coffee, his hoodie rode up, flashing a curved outline beneath his shirt. Jenna’s eyes dropped immediately.

“Alex…” she began carefully, “you’ve… uh… put on a lot since last time. Like… a lot.”

Alex snorted, grabbing a muffin and ripping it in half. “Thanks for the confidence boost. Appreciate it.”

“No, I mean—” Jenna bit her lip, glancing at Brian, who gave her a look like don’t say it. But she said it anyway. “You look… pregnant.”

The word hit the air like a slap.

Alex froze mid-bite, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying—your belly, the way it’s… round, low, like—”

“Stop.” His voice cut sharp. His jaw clenched. “Don’t. Say. That. Word.” He shoved the muffin into his mouth and chewed aggressively. “It’s weight gain. Okay? Junk food, late nights, no exercise. End of story.”

Brian coughed awkwardly. “Man, she didn’t mean—”

Alex pushed back his chair suddenly, the scrape loud. “I’m not pregnant.” His voice cracked as he said it, but he glared as if daring them to disagree. “That’s insane.”

Without another word, he stormed out, hoodie clutched around his middle.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

Alone in his apartment, Alex groaned as he lowered himself onto the couch. His belly pressed into his thighs when he bent forward, forcing him to spread his legs apart just to breathe.

“God, this is getting ridiculous…” he muttered, pulling his hoodie off. The sight made him flinch. His T-shirt clung to a swollen dome that clearly didn’t belong to a man who’d just “let himself go.” The skin beneath strained tight, smooth, and warm.

A sudden shift inside made him gasp. His hands clutched the sides of his belly instinctively.

“Wh—what the hell—” His voice trembled. “It’s… gas. Right? Just—just trapped air…”

But then it happened again. A slow, deliberate roll, like something alive pressing out from the inside. He whimpered, sinking his teeth into his knuckle.

“No… no, no, no…” He shook his head violently, refusing to believe. “I’m not… this isn’t…” He choked on his own words, a tear slipping down his cheek. “It’s just… indigestion. That’s all…”

The pressure built until he had to shift, moaning low in his throat. He grabbed a pillow and hugged it tight against his belly, rocking gently, trying to soothe away the sensations.

“Shhh… stop… it’s nothing, it’s nothing…” he whispered desperately. But his body betrayed him with every little kick, every twist.

The next week at work, Alex waddled more than walked. His coworkers noticed, exchanging whispers when he passed. His hoodie could no longer disguise the heavy curve; the zipper strained, refusing to close.

At the vending machine, a colleague sidled up. “Hey, uh… Alex? You okay?”

He scowled. “Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

The man hesitated, eyes flicking to Alex’s middle. “It’s just—you look… I mean, you’re walking funny, and…”

“Say it.” Alex’s eyes narrowed.

The man cleared his throat nervously. “…Are you… sure you’re not… expecting?”

Alex barked a laugh so bitter it almost cracked. “Expecting what, a miracle? Please. I’m a guy. Guys don’t—” He cut himself off with a groan, clutching his side as a sharp cramp knifed through him. His breath hitched, his face twisting in pain before he forced it away.

“Stomach bug,” he muttered quickly, turning on his heel. “Just a stomach bug.”

But as he limped back to his desk, sweat beading on his temple, he whispered to himself:

“Not pregnant. Not me. No way…”

Nine Months

Alex stood in front of his mirror, tugging at the hem of his hoodie like it could possibly hide anything now. The hoodie stretched so tightly across his middle that the zipper gaped open halfway, unable to contain the enormous swell of his belly. His T-shirt clung damp with sweat, pulled taut across the round curve that jutted forward obscenely.

“God…” he muttered, running a hand over the underside of his stomach. It sat low and heavy, resting against the waistband of his joggers, forcing his thighs apart when he tried to stand straight. “It’s just… fat. That’s all. Just… too many late-night snacks. I’ll work it off.”

His voice cracked, betraying the weakness of his excuse.

Inside him, something shifted. Slowly, deliberately, a lump pressed outward near his ribs, stretching the fabric into a hard mound. Alex gasped, his hand flying to cover it.

“No—no, no, stop that,” he hissed. “That’s not… it’s not a kick. It’s not—” His breath hitched as another movement rippled across his belly, strong and undeniable. “Ohh—God, why won’t it stop—”

He bent forward, moaning low, clutching the sink for support. His belly heaved and rolled, alive beneath his shirt.

Later that week, he sat across from Jenna and Brian at their favorite diner. He had insisted on meeting, even though walking left him panting, waddling with every step.

When he squeezed into the booth, his belly pressed into the edge of the table, forcing him to lean back uncomfortably. He tugged his hoodie closed, but it barely covered him anymore.

“Alex…” Jenna’s voice was soft, but her eyes were wide, scanning the massive dome in his lap. “You can’t keep saying this is just weight. Look at you.”

“Yeah, man,” Brian added carefully. “I mean, your belly is… it’s huge. And it’s not, like… beer gut huge. It’s… round. Tight. Like…” He trailed off, searching for a word.

Alex glared at them both, heat rushing to his face. “Like what? Say it.”

Jenna swallowed. “…Like you’re nine months pregnant.”

The diner seemed to go silent.

Alex’s chair screeched as he shoved it back and slammed his hands on the table. “I am not pregnant!” His voice cracked into a shout, drawing stares from other booths. His chest heaved, his hoodie straining across his belly with each breath. “Do you hear me? I’m not—I can’t be!”

Jenna flinched but didn’t back down. “Alex, your body says otherwise.”

“No!” He grabbed his soda and downed half of it, ignoring the way his stomach clenched and shifted in protest. “It’s bloating. Indigestion. Something else. Anything else. But not that.”

A sharp kick jolted inside, making him choke on his drink. His hands clutched the table, knuckles white. He groaned low, trying to pass it off as heartburn.

Brian’s voice was quiet. “…Alex, what’s gonna happen when you can’t deny it anymore?”

“I’ll never admit it,” Alex spat through gritted teeth. His voice shook, but he said it anyway. “Never.”

Back home, Alex lay sprawled on his bed, shirt pushed up, sweat glistening across his stretched skin. His belly rose like a mountain, trembling with every kick and roll. His breath came ragged, every movement inside driving a soft whimper from his throat.

“Nnnnghh… stop… just stop…” He bit down on his fist, moaning against it. “You’re not real. You’re not. I won’t—ohhh—won’t believe it…”

He rocked side to side, but the pressure inside only grew worse, settling lower with each passing night. His hips ached, his back screamed, and his belly felt like it would split open with how taut it was.

Still, he whispered to himself over and over, a mantra in the dark:

“I’m not pregnant. I’m not. I’m not. I’m not.”

But when another sharp jolt tore through his abdomen, he screamed into his pillow, the sound muffled but raw, his body writhing against the sheets. His denial held, even as the truth pressed relentlessly downward inside him.

The clock on the wall ticked steadily in the quiet apartment. Outside, the city buzzed faintly, but inside Alex’s bedroom, the air was heavy and still. He lay curled on his side, one arm wrapped under his swollen belly, sweat dampening his shirt.

The first cramp hit hard and deep.

“Nnnghhh—ahh…” He gritted his teeth, curling tighter, breath hissing out between them. His hand pressed into his stomach, trying to rub the pain away. “Just gas… just gas… ate too much pizza…”

But when it passed, another came. Stronger. He sat up with effort, legs spread wide to make room for the bulk of his belly. His T-shirt rode up, exposing skin stretched tight and gleaming. He clutched the mattress, rocking forward.

“Ohh—ohh God… it’s worse… it’s just food poisoning, that’s all…” He moaned low, his voice cracking. “I’ll be fine. I’ll sleep it off.”

The next wave tore through him, so sharp it drove a cry from his throat. He slapped a hand over his mouth, biting back the sound, but it came out anyway, muffled and desperate.

“Mmmhhhnnnnnnnnghhhhh—!”

His belly tightened like stone, every muscle pulling hard. He gasped when it finally eased, sweat dripping down his temple.

He forced himself up, wobbling on his feet. His legs trembled under the weight of his belly. He waddled toward the bathroom, clutching his middle with both hands.

“Come on, Alex, walk it off,” he muttered between ragged breaths. “Not pregnant. Just cramps. Just cramps.”

Another contraction hit halfway down the hall. He doubled over, bracing against the wall, his forehead pressed to the cool paint. His body shook, his hips rocking uncontrollably as the pressure bore down.

“Ahhh—hhhnnnnghhhh!” His moan echoed off the walls, raw and hoarse. “N-no, no, no, no… not happening… not happening…”

When it passed, he staggered to the mirror in the bathroom. He gripped the sink, staring at the reflection. His belly jutted out obscenely, low and round, the skin tight and flushed. His face was pale, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.

He shook his head violently, panting. “That’s not a pregnant belly. It’s not. I’m not.”

But then another ripple tore across the mound, unmistakable, followed by a kick so strong it made him cry out.

“Ohhh—hhhhh—ahhh!” He clutched the sink, legs bowing, moaning gutturally. “It’s… not… I swear it’s not…”

Back in the bedroom, he collapsed onto the bed, curling on his side. His breaths came in sharp pants.

“Mmmhhhhnnnn—ahhh—hhhhh…” He pressed a pillow hard against his belly, as if he could smother the pain. His voice shook with sobs between groans. “No, no, no… not me… not like this…”

The contractions came faster. His body arched with each one, his thighs spreading, his hands clutching the sheets. He bit into the pillow to muffle his screams, but the sound still tore out of him, high and broken.

“NNNNGGHHHHhhhhh—ahhhhhh—God it hurts—”

The pressure shifted lower. Heavy. Relentless. He gasped, one hand flying between his legs instinctively, feeling the hot fullness pressing down. His eyes widened in horror.

“N-no… no, no, no…” His head shook frantically, tears spilling down his cheeks. “I won’t— I won’t—”

His body clenched again, forcing him to bear down. He screamed into the mattress, muffling the sound. His whole body trembled.

“I-I’m not pregnant,” he sobbed, rocking back and forth. “I’m not, I’m not, I’m not—”

But his body ignored him. The undeniable rhythm of labor had begun.

The bedroom was stifling with heat. The sheets were twisted and damp with sweat where Alex writhed on the bed. His shirt had ridden up completely, leaving his massive belly bare, the skin taut and glistening under the dim light. Every breath came ragged, every moan cracked and desperate.

“Ahhh—hhhnnnnnghhhhh—ohhh God—” His fingers clawed at the mattress, knuckles white. “No—no, no—this isn’t happening—”

Another contraction seized him, stronger than anything before. His body curled forward around the swell of his belly, a guttural cry tearing from his throat. His thighs spread wide, shaking violently as pressure crashed down into his pelvis.

“HHhhhnnnnnghhhhhh! Nnnnoooo—ahhhh!” He sobbed into the pillow, muffling his screams. “I’m not—pregnant—I’m not—”

But his body betrayed him. His belly tightened like a drum, the babies shifting downward with unstoppable force. He clamped his knees together, both hands between his legs, fighting the urge to push.

The next wave hit, and he couldn’t stop the groan that ripped from deep in his chest. His hips rocked against the sheets, thighs trembling as the pressure bore down.

“Nnnghhhhh—ohhh—ohhh it’s—coming—ahhh God, nooo!” His voice broke into sobs. “Don’t—don’t—don’t come out—I won’t let you—”

But the pressure only mounted. His body strained, every muscle convulsing. He gasped, horrified, as something bulged low between his legs.

“No—no, no, no—” He shook his head wildly, tears spilling. “It’s not crowning—it’s not—it’s nothing—”

The truth was there: the first baby’s head pressing down, stretching him, burning hot.

The next contraction slammed through him. His whole body arched, a scream bursting from his raw throat.

“HHHhhhnnnnnnnnnnnnnnggggghhhhHHhhhhh! Ahhh—ahhhhhh—it huuurts—!”

His hand flew between his legs and met the hard, rounded swell forcing its way out. His breath caught.

“No—ohhh God—no—please—stop—” He panted frantically, shaking his head, pressing back against it with trembling fingers. “I can’t—I won’t—”

But the head only pushed harder, crowning wider with each involuntary push.

The burn was excruciating. He screamed again, thrashing on the bed, sweat flying. His face was red, veins standing out in his neck as his body bore down.

“AHHHhhhhhHHhhhhhh! I’m not—I’m not pregnant—I swear I’m not—!”

But the head was there, halfway out, stretching him unbearably.

With one more brutal contraction, the head slipped free. Alex let out a strangled wail, collapsing back against the mattress, chest heaving.

“No… ohh God no…” His hands trembled as he felt between his legs, touching the wet, slick curve of a newborn head now hanging free. “It’s real… oh God it’s real…”

His belly cramped again, forcing his body to push. He screamed until his voice broke, and the rest of the tiny body slid out, falling wetly onto the sheets.

Alex sobbed, staring down at the baby lying between his trembling thighs. Perfect, small, undeniable.

“No… no, no, no, no…” His head shook violently, tears streaming. “I didn’t—I’m not—”

But another contraction was already mounting.

He barely had time to breathe before the next baby pressed low. His belly heaved, another round of groans tearing out of him.

“Ahhhh—hhhnnnnnngghhh! No, no, not again—!” He doubled over, clutching his belly as it tightened brutally.

The crown bulged again, faster this time. He screamed, his voice hoarse and broken, rocking against the sheets as the second baby forced its way down.

“HHhhhhhhnnnnnghhh—ahhhhhh! Stop—please—stop—!”

But his body bore down, unstoppable. With a final shriek, the head slid free, and then the rest of the baby followed, joining the first on the bed.

Alex collapsed backward, sobbing hysterically, his belly smaller but still round.

“I can’t—I can’t—ohh God, no more—please—”

But his body wasn’t done. The contractions tore through him again, his stomach clenching violently. He screamed hoarsely, clawing at the sheets, legs spread wide as the third descended.

“Nooo—ohhhhhh—hhhnnnnnnghhh! It hurts—it hurts so bad—I can’t—ohhh God—!”

The crown stretched him once more. His voice broke into sobbing gasps, head thrashing on the pillow.

“I’m not—I’m not pregnant—I’m not—ahhhhhhhhhh!”

The baby slid free, wet and perfect, as Alex convulsed with a guttural cry.

Three babies lay between his trembling legs, his body wrecked, his throat raw from screaming. He curled onto his side, clutching his aching belly, sobbing.

“No… no… no… not me… I wasn’t pregnant…” His voice was hoarse, nearly gone.

But the proof was there, undeniable, lined up before him.

And Alex, even in his exhaustion, kept whispering, broken and small: