[Part 1] [Part 2] ⬤ [Part 4] [Part 5] [Epilogue]
As Caleb moved through his fourth month and into his fifth month of being pregnant, the experience stopped feeling abstract and started feeling monumental. Literally.
It wasn’t just a small swell he could cradle in private anymore. It wasn’t just a subtle shift in his hips or a playful bounce of his thickening ass to tease Micah. The novelty had faded. He was now fully, visibly, gloriously pregnant. Every single day.
His belly grew rounder, stretching the fabric of his shirts in a way that could no longer be disguised. Each morning he seemed a little bigger than the day before, the curve more pronounced, the weight more present. What had once been a gentle bump became a steady, undeniable belly at the center of him, growing, pressing outward, claiming space in the world.
And behind him, the changes were just as dramatic.
His bubble butt truly began to take off, his cheeks grew deeper and rounding in a way that made his old clothes surrender. The shorts he once loved strained at the seams, and his jeans gave up entirely. Every few weeks he found himself shopping again, holding up larger sizes, marveling at how quickly his body was blossoming.
Eventually, he switched to leggings.
At first, it was practical. His belly was heavier now, pulling him forward, and the growing size of his ass made stiff fabrics uncomfortable. Leggings stretched with him and boy did he need it. But there was another reason, too.
The fullness of his hips, the round sweep of his glorious ass, the bouncing of his thick juicy cheeks every time he moved. It was all on display. And Caleb knew it.
He felt heavier at this stage. Standing up required more effort. Stairs were slower. He had to brace a hand on his lower back sometimes, adjusting to the new center of gravity that lived in front of him and behind him.
And still, there was wonder.
He would pass mirrors and pause, one hand under his belly, turning slightly to take in the silhouette of himself — round, grounded, glowing with the quiet gravity of how pregnant he was becoming.
Caleb truly felt alluring, radiant — like his body was doing exactly what it was meant to do, and doing it beautifully. It gave him a boldness he hadn’t expected, a quiet pride that made him stand a little taller even under the new weight he carried. And he wanted Micah to see it.
He found himself lingering in doorways, turning just slightly when Micah walked past, adjusting his shirt so the curve of his belly was outlined instead of hidden. He’d stand there smiling, hand resting low on his stomach, hip cocked, driving Micah absolutely wild.
It was impossible not to feel that way. Micah’s heart always skipped a beat when Caleb entered a room. And the feeling was mutual.
Caleb felt more drawn to Micah than ever. The history between them, the tension, the tenderness. It all folded into the new shape of his life. Micah didn’t have to say a word. Just standing there — tall, handsome, familiar — was enough to make Caleb’s body hum with warmth he could no longer ignore.
There was a reason, Caleb realized with a thrill and a pang, that he had originally wanted Micah to be the one that made him pregnant. Because of the way Micah looked at him with eyes that saw him. The way his jawline caught the light, the subtle confidence in his posture, the unguarded sincerity in his voice. It was gravity.
And now, with his hormones coursing, each surge felt hotter and deeper than before. It was like a current ran through him the second Micah was near — low in his belly, heavy in his hips, warm and insistent in places that wasn’t just about want anymore. It was desire. Every day he grew more pregnant Micah’s siblings, he felt more of this pull — sharper, deeper, harder to reign in.
He tried to joke about it once — standing at the fridge, Micah at the counter.
“Ever notice,” Caleb had teased, voice warm and casual, “that whoever’s around when I have a surge tends to… look better than usual?”
Micah had laughed, but something in his eyes had softened — that look that said I know exactly what you mean.
Caleb felt drawn to Micah more than ever. The history between them, the tension always simmering just beneath the surface, the tenderness of their shared past — it all folded into the new shape of his life. He wasn’t just carrying a child anymore. He was carrying the weight of love and regret and longing and hope all at once.
And every time Micah walked by — or shifted on the couch, or met his gaze in the kitchen — a low warmth spread through him, reminding him not only of what he was carrying inside, but who he had always felt connected to outside of it.
Even as his belly demanded more and more attention, the longing for Micah coiled like a constant current beneath his ribs. It was part of his new normal now: carrying life, and carrying desire, both in quiet, reverent gravity.
By the time Caleb reached the middle of his second trimester, he didn’t just feel different. He felt full.
There was a constant, grounded heaviness to him now, like his body was carrying more than it had first let on. His belly had rounded into a firm, unmistakable curve that pushed outward with quiet authority. It announced itself with quiet confidence. And Caleb, in all his startling beauty, began to carry himself differently, too. When he stood sideways in the mirror, hand under the curve, even he had to admit it. He looked very pregnant.
And then the kicks began.
The first one felt like a soft ripple deep inside him, like an echo of something vast. He had paused mid-step in the kitchen, hand already drifting to his belly, when it came — a small, undeniable pulse against his palm. His breath caught, eyes lifting as the sensation settled warm and alive against his fingertips.
After that, the kicks became regular. Small taps in the early morning when he reached for his coffee, gentle nudges in the quiet of the couch when he lay back after lunch. At first he laughed quietly to himself, awed by the sensation of life moving inside him. But soon they grew in strength — stronger, deeper, more insistent — and the fullness he felt wasn’t just weight. It was a presence.
He found himself pausing throughout the day, palm resting beneath his belly, feeling the weight of it settle into his hips and lower back. There was a groundedness that lived deep inside him, a stretching sensation that made him wonder. He had no point of comparison, no past pregnancy to measure against, but something in him kept whispering that he was really big. And still he trusted his body. It had carried him this far.
It all made sense at his next checkup. He lay back on the exam table, cool gel slipping over his skin, heart pounding with equal parts nerves and wonder. The room was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of the ultrasound monitor. The technician moved the wand slowly across the curve of his belly.
There was a pause. Then a smile.
“Well,” she said gently, tilting the screen toward him, “that explains why you look so far along.”
“You’re not just carrying one baby,” she said. “You are pregnant with twins.”
For a moment he just stared. “Twins?” he whispered.
Caleb smiled, breathless, hands instinctively cradling his belly. And suddenly it all clicked: the fullness, the rapid growth, the deep, constant sense of being filled with life that had never quite felt like anything simple or ordinary.
He let his mind drift back to that night with Grant, how much baby batter he’d pumped into him, how deep it had felt, how full he’d felt afterward… and the strange intuition that maybe his body remembered something before he consciously did.
He left the appointment in a daze, one hand settled protectively over his belly the entire drive home, like he was already guarding something precious before it even arrived. He hadn’t just been imagining it. He was carrying more than he ever realized.
That night he told Grant. In the quiet kitchen where the hum of the refrigerator was the only sound, Caleb stood by the counter, one hand resting beneath the curve of his belly like it was already his natural place.
“I had my appointment today,” he said softly.
Grant looked up instantly. “Everything okay?”
Caleb nodded. Grant stepped closer. “What is it?”
Caleb’s hand tightened over his belly. “We’re having twins. Two boys.”
For a moment, Grant just stood there — expression frozen, stunned. Then he reached out, slowly, his hand settling beside Caleb’s on the firm curve of his belly. His voice was low, thick with emotion he rarely let himself show.
“Two,” he repeated, almost to himself. “You’ve been carrying two this whole time.”
Caleb nodded. “That’s why I felt so… full.”
Grant gave a soft, incredulous laugh and shook his head in wonder. “You’re incredible, Caleb. You know that?”
Caleb just leaned into him, letting the quiet astonishment fill the space between them.
Just before bed, Caleb found Micah in the garage, leaning against the workbench with music playing low from his phone. Micah looked up the moment he walked in — immediately noticing something in Caleb’s face.
Micah looked up, half-smiling. “You look like you’ve got news.”
“I went to the doctor today,” he said, stepping closer. He swallowed, then smiled gently. “It’s twins. Two boys.”
“Yeah,” Caleb said. Then, with a shy, almost sheepish grin: “I guess I was really fertile.”
For a moment, Micah just looked at him — at the belly he was already studying like it held a secret, at the awe shining in his eyes. Then Micah exhaled, a sound that was half laugh, half disbelief.
“That’s why you look so…incredible,” he said quietly. Micah stepped closer, hesitation melting into something softer, his hand hovering before finally settling gently over Caleb’s stomach. His touch was careful, reverent.
“Two,” he murmured. “My brothers.”
Caleb’s voice softened, quiet and warm. “Yeah.”
They stood there, close in the dim light of the garage, letting the gravity of it sink in. “That’s… big,” Micah said.
Caleb smiled and for the first time in a long while, they just stood together, absorbing the truth of all that was growing between them.
By the time Caleb slipped into his sixth month of pregnancy, he had fully blossomed.
His belly sat heavy and forward like a ripe, rounded globe. So large and low now that it drew attention everywhere he went. It extended far from his body in a soft, full curve that seemed to hum with life, and the boys inside kicked up a storm from sunrise to the quiet hours before sleep. Little surges and rolling pulses made him start and sigh all day long, a constant reminder that two strong, growing lives were tucked deep within him.
But it wasn’t just the belly. His ass — already thick and soft — had become something more, something stunning: a massive shelf that arched out behind him, heavy and full and impossibly round. His lower back dipped into those fertile mounds, the smooth flesh rising like hills that hinted at the life and power contained in his body. Where once his hips curved gently, now they swelled with a confidence that drew eyes — lingering, appreciative, sometimes breathless.
At this stage, Caleb had long since abandoned anything fitted or restrictive. He lived in leggings and oversized tanks or soft t-shirts that draped over him like gentle blankets, each outfit a canvas for his pregnancy to be on full display. The snug stretch of the leggings hugged every curve of his hips and that thick, bouncing butt, and the loose tanks gave just enough shape to suggest the deep roundness beneath.
He loved it. Loved how he looked. Loved how he felt. Loved how his body now spoke its fertile truth without apology.
Micah lost his mind over it. When Caleb walked into a room now, hips swaying, belly heavy and proud, Micah’s breath hitched every single time — a low, reverent sound caught in his throat like he was seeing Caleb for the first time all over again. The way Caleb’s ass rounded out behind him, the subtle jiggle with every step, the quiet confidence in his posture… it drove Micah wild. Every glance Micah stole, every lingering brush of his eyes over Caleb’s silhouette, was filled with heat and awe.
Grant noticed it too. He saw how Caleb carried himself: abundant, fertile, blooming into something huge and undeniable. There were moments — small, fleeting, impossible to ignore — when Grant would catch himself staring at the curve of Caleb’s back, the fullness of his belly, the thickness of his hips, and just blink — like watching a sunrise he hadn’t expected to be quite so breathtaking.
Looking at him like this — so big now, so visibly transformed — did something to Grant. Seeing the weight of Caleb’s belly pulling him forward, the way his body had reshaped itself to hold and grow life, made Grant’s chest tighten with awe. The thought came again, slow and powerful: I made him this way.
And then it went deeper. My sons are in there.
Two boys, growing strong inside the body Grant had filled, soon will be birthed by this man standing in front of him — round, heavy, radiant. It was incredible.
Not just beautiful, but humbling. Grant felt small in the presence of it sometimes, like he was witnessing something sacred and unstoppable. Caleb wasn’t just pregnant. He was becoming something vast, powerful, and life-giving — and Grant knew, with a kind of reverent certainty, that he would never forget the sight of him like this.
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