PREGGOMAN

His ass felt noticeably bigger under his hand, filling the shorts and stretching the seams to their limit. Ryan pressed and squeezed his cheeks, as if he needed proof his body had really changed this much. When he turned sideways, his reflection stopped him short. His hips flared wider than he remembered. The change gave his silhouette a curvier line, almost exaggerated against his broad shoulders. He shifted his weight, watching how the shape moved.

He sat on the edge of the bed, defeated, and bounced once, groaning when the mattress pushed his ass up and forward, shoving his belly out even more. The sensation made him laugh again as he settled both hands—one at his rounded middle and the other on his thick hips. He stayed there for a moment, breathing, trying to wrap his head around how much bigger he already was and knowing the growth was far from over.

At work, the struggle was constant. Ryan started each day tugging his shirt down, trying to keep it draped over his belly, only for it to creep back up the moment he reached for anything. Bending over made the fabric pull tight and ride high, revealing a portion of the gut he was trying so hard to pretend wasn’t there.

He caught himself bracing his lower back more often, spreading his legs wider to balance the extra weight at his front. And when he dropped into his truck or onto a workbench, the seat seemed smaller—his hips and ass filled it more fully than before.

Every time it happened, he let out a breath and shook his head in disbelief, trying to convince himself his body was playing a prank on him. He wasn’t willing to surrender to his condition so easily, but every day it was harder to keep up the bravado.

As Christmas came closer, Tammy insisted the house needed decorations—Ryan had been working on it for weeks now: lights, garlands, inflatable nonsense, the works. Ryan climbed ladders more slowly now, stopping halfway to rest a hand on his belly while pretending he was only checking his footing. Sweat drenched him within seconds, and by the time he came down, he was breathing hard, completely spent.

Josh came nearby, willing to help by handing his dad whatever he needed, but noticing Ryan’s strain. “Dad, you’re taking forever.”

“Quality work takes time,” Ryan said breathlessly, wiping his forehead.

Jeremy tilted his head and giggled. “Is it because your tummy’s big?”

Ryan snorted despite himself. “Hey—this tummy is working. Unlike you two.”

Tammy watched from the porch with her arms crossed, saying nothing. She only smiled and occasionally laughed under her breath when Ryan paused to stretch or complained about how tight his clothes felt. She couldn’t help noticing how his layers had multiplied—hoodies over tees, jackets zipped even when it wasn’t that cold. He tried to hide the belly, but each day it was thicker, rounder, and more obvious. She didn’t comment. She didn’t need to. Ryan’s struggles and complaints were commentary enough.

The boys joined in with their own jokes.

“Dad, you walk like Grandpa now,” Josh said one afternoon when Ryan struggled to move a light box across the living room.

Jeremy nodded solemnly. “But you’re slower than Grandpa.”

Ryan laughed, trying to catch his breath. “You two are grounded,” he said, but couldn’t help but laugh helplessly. He knew his boys were right, but he couldn’t help it and couldn’t explain why he was so slow—not yet.

Meanwhile, Chris’s changes were quieter, more internal. His belly was rounding, but gently—nothing like Ryan’s expansion. His shirts pulled a little tighter, and his slacks fit a bit snug at the waist, but he waved it off at work with easy excuses.

One morning, a coworker leaned back in his chair and grinned, nodding toward Chris’s middle. “Careful there, Wilkinson. One more lunch and that button’s gonna pop.”

A couple of people snorted, and Chris blushed. He looked down at himself, brushing his fingers over the tight fabric without thinking. “Hey,” he said with a laugh, lifting his hands in surrender, “you should try my wife’s cooking. She’s been in full holiday mode already.”

“So it’s not stress weight?” another coworker teased. “Just festive?”

“Exactly,” Chris replied, trying to act cool about their accusations. “The holiday season is dangerous. I’m a victim here.”

The group chuckled and moved on, and Chris went with them, relaxing his posture on the outside. Inside, his thoughts stayed tense. Inside, he was unraveling in smaller ways. He still hadn’t told Renee about the ultrasound. About the twins. Every day he delayed, the words grew heavier, settling into his chest almost painfully.

At home, he acted normal—too normal—talking about errands and bills, folding laundry with careful precision, and asking Renee if she wanted tea, all like nothing had changed. But his instincts betrayed him because Rory calmed him like nothing else, but also triggered the most random reactions.

Whenever the baby fussed, Chris felt the sound hit him right in the chest, impossible to ignore. He’d scoop Rory up without thinking, whispering nonsense words, and pacing the room until the cries softened into hiccups before quieting. More than once, he realized his heart was pounding hard until the baby settled—only then could he breathe again.

He had always loved Rory deeply, but now he needed to hold the boy, rocking him in the living room or letting the baby nap against his shoulder while he stood there, afraid to move. He found himself tracing gentle patterns on Rory’s back, counting the slow rise and fall of his breathing, calming himself in it. The world felt smoother with Rory in his arms, like the chaos inside him quieted enough to think.

One evening, while finishing the Christmas tree, Chris had Rory in his arms, and the baby held the star. Rory clutched it in both hands and suddenly stretched toward the tree as if knowing what to do with it. Watching the baby reach—seeing how big he’d gotten—made something in Chris crack open.

He laughed softly, then felt his throat tighten. Without realizing it, he rested a hand on his own belly, pressing lightly as tears slid down his cheek. He smiled through them, holding Rory close as if the baby somehow understood everything Chris couldn’t say out loud.

Renee noticed everything but didn’t say anything. Chris’s silence told her more than words ever could. She knew that, as a good lawyer, if he had proof he wasn’t pregnant, he would have said it immediately. The fact that he hadn’t told her anything else told her everything. So she softened—not with forgiveness, but with space. She tried to let him find his way to the truth, no matter how shocking it could be.

Then, Christmas Eve arrived, and both houses glowed across the street from each other.

In the Dorchester home, the table groaned under the weight of food, and Ryan ate like a man possessed. He started the night already round—his belly firm and stretched beneath his shirt—but something in him refused to slow down. He went back for seconds, then thirds, barely pausing between bites and breathing a little heavier each time he sat back down.

“Dad,” Josh said, surprised as Ryan piled more food onto his plate, “are you trying to win an eating contest?”

Ryan laughed, already chewing again. “I’m just really hungry, son,” he said, casually.

“Let your dad eat, Josh. Big men need big portions,” Tammy said, playfully.

By the time dessert came out, his belly pushed hard and round against the fabric, shiny with tension, rising high as he leaned back with a helpless groan. He rubbed his middle with both hands now, spreading his fingers as if he could feel how full it was from the outside.

“Okay,” Ryan said, breathless, “I might’ve overdone it.”

Tammy only smiled, setting another dish down in front of him. “No, no. I made this dessert especially for you,” she said lightly. “Don’t start backing out now, big guy.”

The boys watched in awe as Ryan laughed and gave in, taking a few more bites despite the way he winced and shifted in his chair. He tugged at his waistband, then finally gave up and unbuttoned his pants with a soft groan of relief, letting his belly spill forward unrestrained.

“Ugh… That’s better,” Ryan said, exhaling as the pressure eased a little.

Jeremy giggled. “Your tummy’s huge, Dad.”

Ryan looked down at it, still rubbing slow circles, and shook his head with a tired smile. “You have no idea, buddy.”

Across the street, Chris was devouring plate after plate, barely slowing down long enough to notice how much he was eating. Renee watched from across the table, observant, secretly enjoying how he kept lighting up with every bite.

“This tastes amazing,” he said again and again, sincere every time. “I don’t know what you did to the potatoes, but—wow.”

He thanked her between mouthfuls and shook his head in disbelief. All the while, his hand drifted to his middle, rubbing absent circles like he knew the food was doing something important. At some point, he gave up pretending to be subtle. He loosened his belt a notch, then another, then finally slipped the buckle free and let his pants relax.

His belly pushed forward with relief.

“I swear,” Chris said, reaching for more, “this might be the best dinner I’ve had all year.”

Renee smiled at that, even as she noticed how his shirt pulled tighter when he leaned back and how his palm rested there as if it belonged. Then, a little too casually, Renee asked, “So, I guess that appetite means you’re eating for two?”

Chris froze, with the fork halfway to his mouth. He forgot how to breathe, his face turning as red as a tomato. He swallowed hard and set the fork down, moving one hand protectively to his belly. He’d been waiting for this moment without knowing how to face it.

“Yeah,” he said. He hesitated, then added, barely audible, “Actually, I’m eating for three.”

Renee blinked. “For three?” She looked curious. “Does that mean you are having…?”

“Twins,” Chris finished softly. “I’m pregnant with twins. I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know when. I’m sorry.”

They sat there in silence for what felt like an eternity.

Then Renee let out a small laugh and shook her head in disbelief. “You always find a way to outdo yourself, Chris Wilkinson,” she said, with a dry tone and wide eyes. “You cheat, get another man pregnant, and get pregnant yourself—and you manage to conceive multiples on the first try. Impressive.” There was sarcasm there, but also something close to awe.

Chris swallowed again. “And,” he added carefully, “the doctor told me that Ryan is having six babies. He’s pregnant with sextuplets.”

Renee choked on her water. “What?!” She stared at him, then burst out laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Six? You got him pregnant with six? Is that even possible without fertility treatments?”

Chris had no idea what to say. He stayed quiet, folding his hands in his lap, watching as she laughed it out—really laughed, like her brain needed the noise to catch up.

She wiped her eyes and shook her head again. “I’ll say it once more,” she said, more seriously now, staring at him. “You always find a way to outdo yourself.”

He couldn’t tell if it was an accusation or something almost impressed, and that uncertainty made his chest tighten. Still, the rest of the night went smoothly for the Wilkinsons; the truth, somehow, made things slightly less tense between them.

Meanwhile, the Dorchesters still had truths to reveal.

Ryan was on the couch later that night, breathing a little heavy from dinner but refusing to move. It was time for presents, and the boys were already bouncing with excitement. Wrapping paper flew everywhere as Josh tore into boxes and Jeremy squealed over every new toy. Ryan watched it all with a soft smile, resting one hand on his belly, rubbing slow circles without thinking.

The pressure was uncomfortable, but his thoughts drifted somewhere warmer—imagining a future Christmas with tiny hands grabbing paper and six little voices adding to the chaos.

“Dad, look!” Josh shouted, holding up a toy truck.

“That’s awesome, buddy,” Ryan said, matching the boy’s excitement.

Then Tammy came and handed him a stack of gift bags. “These are yours,” she said. “Merry Christmas, big guy.”

Ryan blinked, surprised. “Oh—uh. Thanks.” He set them on his lap, shifting carefully, then started opening them. The first bag held oversized t‑shirts—soft, long, and obviously roomy. He let out a quiet breath of relief. “These are great,” he said honestly.

The next was more shocking. Ryan pulled out a pair of pants, noticeably wider through the hips. He turned the tag over once, and his cheeks turned red. They were maternity jeans. He looked up at his wife, not knowing what to say.

Tammy shrugged, calm as anything. “That’s the largest I could find. They’re not really meant for men, obviously. But they’ve got room. You’ve got months ahead of you—and those thighs aren’t exactly shrinking.”

Ryan swallowed, glancing down at himself, then at the boys, then back at her. “Right,” he whispered. “Yeah. Thank you,” he said, smiling weakly as his mind drifted into a territory that he hadn’t wanted to step into.

He sat there for a second longer, with his hands resting on his belly. Then he cleared his throat. “Hey. Boys. Come here for a second.”

Josh and Jeremy hurried over, curious about their dad’s call. They sat nearby, and Tammy stayed close, watching quietly.

“I need you to promise me something,” Ryan said calmly. “You gotta be good boys. And you gotta keep a secret. Can you do that?”

Both boys nodded immediately.

“Promise,” Josh said.

“Pinkie promise,” Jeremy added, holding out his finger.

Ryan smiled faintly and hooked his pinkie with Jeremy’s. Then he rested both hands on his belly again, staying silent for a few more seconds as he gathered the courage to talk. “Okay. So, long story short, you’re going to have some little siblings in a few months.”

Josh’s eyes lit up. “Really?” He turned to Tammy. “Mom—”

“Nope,” Tammy cut in gently. “Let your dad finish.”

Ryan nodded. “The part you have to keep secret is… It’s not Mom having the babies this time.” He took a deep breath before finishing. “It’s me.”

The boys stared in confusion. “But dads don’t have babies,” Josh said slowly.

“I know,” Ryan said, keeping his tone calm. “It’s weird, but sometimes bodies do unexpected things. Mine’s doing that right now.”

Jeremy looked at Ryan’s belly, then back up at his face. “So, I’ll have a little brother to play with? Or a little sister?”

Ryan laughed softly. “You’re actually gonna have six little siblings to play with.”

For a split second, the room froze.

“Six?” Josh blurted, louder this time. “Six babies?”

Jeremy’s mouth fell open. He lifted both hands and started counting on his fingers, then frowned when he ran out. “That’s a lot,” he said.

“Six,” Ryan confirmed, nodding once. “And yeah, that’s a lot.”

Jeremy climbed closer and stared at Ryan’s belly. “Are they all in there right now?”

“Yeah, they are. That’s why I have this big belly,” Ryan said, slowly lifting the hem of his shirt to reveal the taut, stretched skin of his midsection.

Tammy only stared, marveling at the number and how their boys seemed excited about having six little siblings. They were too young to understand the implications, and she preferred to keep it that way. They could enjoy the strange situation.

The boys started talking over each other until Josh suddenly stopped and grinned. “Does that mean we’ll be the big, big brothers?”

Jeremy nodded enthusiastically. “Super brothers!”

Ryan laughed and pulled them both in as close as his belly would allow. Despite the fear and the weight of it all, something finally loosened in his chest. Whatever came next, at least his sons were excited about the coming babies.

Then the New Year passed without fireworks in either house, but strangely, it felt like a gift. With the truth out in the open, the tension that had been coiled tight for weeks finally loosened. Things weren’t perfect—far from it—but there was more peace now.

At the Wilkinson house, Renee softened slightly. She didn’t reach for Chris at night, and they still kept a polite distance in bed, but she fussed over him during the day in a way that felt almost tender. She reminded him to eat. She pushed second helpings toward him with a look that made arguing pointless.

“You’re growing healthy babies,” she’d say, as if it were a fact neither of them could deny.

Chris nodded and did as she said, still a little stunned by the shift and still unsure how to read it—but relieved to feel cared for.

Ryan’s house was louder. Tammy leaned hard into teasing, and her jokes landed every time Ryan groaned as he stood up or complained that his pants felt tighter than they had yesterday. “Told you,” she’d say, smirking. “Maternity clothes are in your future.”

When he rolled his eyes, she only grinned wider.

Once, she glanced at his chest and added, casually, “Give it time, and I’ll get you a bra too. Support’s important.”

Ryan blushed and looked down at himself, moving his hand to his chest for a second, knowing she wasn’t wrong.

The boys, meanwhile, had fully embraced their new role. They were more protective, even insisting on helping him with his shoes. Ryan hated how vulnerable it made him feel, but he never pushed them away, because he needed the help anyway.

The families were doing well despite the unusual circumstances, but there was something both men had been avoiding: each other.

That changed on January 3—the day Ryan and Chris reached 16 weeks pregnant.

Tammy had taken the boys to visit her parents for the weekend. Renee was out with Rory, hunting for baby clothes before a long grocery run. Chris stood on his porch, with his hands tucked under his coat, absentmindedly rubbing his belly. He weighed 201 pounds—sixteen pounds heavier than he had before the pregnancy, most of it settled right in his midsection. His hips were slightly rounder, and his chest fuller—not as dramatic.

Chris looked across the street and froze.

Ryan stood on his own porch, bundled up, broad even under layers. He looked thicker everywhere, and his belly pulled his jacket forward. He had gained thirty pounds, weighing 255 pounds. He caught Chris looking and smiled.

Chris smiled back.

A moment passed, and Chris started moving before he even realized it. He crossed the street within a few seconds until he was only feet away from Ryan.

Up close, they didn’t look at each other’s faces at first. Their eyes dropped to their bellies. “We need to talk,” Chris said.

Ryan nodded. “Yeah. I guess we do. Come on in.”

Inside, they sat on the couch and only stared at each other for a few minutes.

“The doctor told me,” Chris said. “About the sextuplets.”

Ryan flushed. “Guess word gets around. And you—?”

“I’m having twins,” Chris added.

Ryan blinked, then laughed softly. “Only two? You’ve got it easy.” He paused, scanning Chris’s body. “You look good, though. The pregnancy suits you.”

Chris blushed. “You look fantastic, Ryan.” The words slipped out of his mouth before he registered them. Then he added, more consciously, “If I’m honest, I can’t stop thinking about that camping trip. And it’s not because of the pregnancy alone.”

Ryan took a deep breath. “I get it. I can’t take it out of my mind.”

“I guess we’re both crazy, then.” Chris chuckled, looking down at his middle.

They sat there, and neither moved for a long second. Ryan hesitated and then reached out, gently resting his hand on Chris’s belly. “Do you think it was a mistake?” he asked.

Chris didn’t answer right away. His eyes drifted toward the hallway, as if he could see Renee standing there with Rory in her arms. He swallowed. “I think about Renee and Rory,” he said. “About what this does to them. To all of us.”

Ryan nodded. “I know. Tammy and the boys, they—man, it’s been complicated,” he admitted. “Every time I complain, every time I feel my belly,” he gestured to his middle. “I feel like I shouldn’t be here with them.”

Still, Chris shook his head. “But no,” he said. “I don’t think it was a mistake.”

Ryan let out a breath he’d been holding. “Then maybe… It’s not that bad if I—” he said quietly, barely audible. “If I wanted it to happen again.”

Chris hesitated one last time, briefly closing his eyes, as if he was permitting himself. “I won’t lie. I would love to do it again.”

Those words sealed the deal, and they leaned into each other to kiss. Something finally snapped into place. Weeks of holding back cracked all at once.

“Come on. Let’s go somewhere else,” Ryan said, standing up and pulling Chris along.

They went to the garage, buzzing with the same tension they both remembered from the camping trip. However, now their hormones were making everything more intense. They couldn’t control or fight it. They needed each other desperately.