"Well," Max thought aloud, "Guess I'll have to get up either way..."

Getting out of bed while overdue with triplets would normally be almost impossible for most people, but the werewolf hormones now flowing through Max's body did come with some perks. Mainly, he found himself becoming much, much stronger than before his pregnancy, especially during a full moon. Even then, getting out of bed proved itself quite a chore. First, Max had to swing his legs over the edge of his bed- Easier said than done. He placed one hand under the side of his belly, and with some effort, lifted it so that it stuck directly into the air, nearly knocking the wind out of him and sparking a chorus of protesting kicks and punches from the litter. After taking a minute or two to compose himself and the pups, he finally sat himself up, and planted one swollen foot on the carpeted floor of the bedroom. Lifting up his belly again, this time with both hands, he rotated his entire torso, then his waist, finally placing both feet on the ground. He braced one hand against the firm mattress (if it had been any softer he wouldn't have been able to get out of bed months ago,) and kept the other one on his tender underbelly. Now came the fun part: Actually getting *up.* Even with Jerome's help this has always been a hassle. He switched his hands around, and the one not cradling his womb instead grasped the headboard with white knuckles.

"Okay, on 3..." he muttered, just as much to the pups as to himself. He then shifted all of his considerable weight into his feet and pulled himself up with the headboard, his other hand never once leaving the tight bottom of his engorged stomach. It took him another minute or two to catch his breath, the children barely relenting in their protests. Finally, he cautiously took a waddling step, his other hand moving to his aching back. One step, then another, then another, until finally he was sure of his balance. He decided to walk over to the mirror in the bedroom, stopping to take stock of his ever-growing body.

He'd still never gotten used to some of the changes- This pregnancy had done incredible things to his body. First, he looked at his head. His hair had become darker, richer, thicker than it had ever been before- He had never worried about hair loss when he was still on T, but he figured he really wouldn't need to now. His face, already soft and roundish, had become plumper and fuller, but his beard- his pride and joy- had only grown more since the start of his pregnancy. Respectable but thin beforehand, it had become as lush and luscious as his hair. He looked downward in the mirror, taking note of his chest. Despite top surgery, it had still become puffy, with swollen nipples that occasionally lactated, much to Max's dismay. Jerome loved to play with them, though, which certainly hurt a little less. His top surgery scars had warped around the great orb of his belly.

Max had a strange sort of pride in his belly. From the front alone it was almost two feet in diameter, and almost 4 feet long at the side when he measured yesterday, ignoring the excited foot of the lowest child poking out from beneath his swollen, hypersensitive belly button. It was covered in intense, scarlet stretch marks, running from the top of his belly to the bottom of his thighs like cracks in broken glass- Touching them turned him on immensely, which Jerome loved to exploit. The babies were always at least a little active, even on the new moon when their instincts were weakest, but on full moons like this one, they were extremely excitable, thrashing and fighting with even the lightest rub, or even the slight jostling that comes from merely taking a step.

His hips, too, had rounded out a good deal- He'd always had wide hips,but now the tops of them poked out from his husband's oversized boxers, which turned him on immensely. His body hair had thickened out as well, mostly from the werewolf hormones. His thighs and his ass had become almost impossibly plump, and his underwear strained at his waist. The only real downsides of this pregnancy, in Max's mind, are his swollen feet and ankles (A problem which Jerome is always willing to help with), and the growth spurts his children will experience on full moons like this one. He waddled into the master bathroom, using the toilet (not nearly as much of a hassle as getting out of bed, thanks to handles Jerome had installed,) and needing to bend over to essentially a 90-degree angle to wash his hands, his belly being so big that he can't reach the sink otherwise.