KINKTOBER: DAY 6 (Patreon)

Day 6: Humillitation/ Public sex

WORD COUNT: 6k words

SUMMARY: Adam is a bit of a jerk to his heavily pregnant wife Amy. Life is about to teach him a lesson when one morning after a fight where Amy leaves their place, he wakes up heavily pregnant, horny, and unable to resist his own hormones.

TAGS: mpreg, suprise pregnancy, fast pregnancy, sex during labor, straight man turned gay, m/m sex scenes, water breaking, no birth, nsfw, +18 content.

Amy was going on and on about something again.

He wasn't even sure what his wife was complaining about, but he could hear loud and clear the nagging sound of her whiny voice piercing through the house, louder than the match on the TV.

Adam let out a sigh. He leaned back, body sinking against the couch as his fingers tapped at the armrests, pressing his head back. The ceiling was more interesting than the middle time. The couch complained when he leaned forward again, reaching for the remote to turn the volume up.

Not even the loud, obnoxious sound of the presenter's voice announcing the halftime was enough to drown Amy's bitching. 

He heard the sound of her feet shuffling on carpeted rooms, and soon, he saw Amy's huge, gravid stomach crossing the doorway. His wife was huge. These days, her packed womb was inside the rooms before her, the protruding gravid belly sticking out of her small frame. Amy was huge, and damn, she had really let herself go these past few days, Adam thought. 

Just as the players were running back into the field, right before the whistle, Amy was standing in front of the TV in all her pregnant, huge glory, holding his pair of dirty sneakers in one hand.

Adam bit his tongue, forcing his eyes to stay focused on the TV. Holy shit. Couldn't she have picked a better time?

“How many times...” Amy started, eyebrows raising, jostling the sneakers in her hands. “... Have I told you not to just fucking leave your dirty stuff all around the house?”

“You’re in front of the TV,” Adam replied with a shrug. “Leave them. I’ll pick them up later.”

Amy sneered. Later. Yes, of course. She knew better than anyone that this man lived in dog years; fucking later could mean anytime from tomorrow to a hundred years. Whenever Adam decided that he was sick of his own mess being an obstacle on his way.

Amy couldn't remember if she had already married such an asshole, or if somewhere along the way the oh so charming man she knew turned into… well, this.

Maybe, and just maybe, the pregnancy also had something to do with it. With everything. With her lack of patience lately, with the hysterical rage that filled her every time Adam said or did something stupid —which was, lately, a lot—, with the sudden realization that the man sitting on the recliner with a beer in his hand was an absolute jerk. It was no joke that Amy’s hormones were, well, fucking crazy these days. In Adam’s own words, she had turned into a total bitch. But to be honest, she could not give less a shit right now if her hate was hormone justified or not.

All she knew was that right now, Adam had left his disgusting, dirty sneakers on the damn way again after coming from whatever stupid hangout with his little friends, because he was out there playing soccer as if there weren’t a hundred things to do around this house.

When Adam moved, leaning to the side, eyes moving from her face —where she was still talking— to the TV screen behind her, something inside her brain snapped.  

“Are you listening to me?” Amy hissed. “Fucking hell, Adam. I’m asking you to do one thing, one fucking thing, and you’re-”

“Honey,” Adam cut her off, lifting his hand, “The match is on. Can you move?”

Amy opened her mouth, then closed it again. She was about to say something else, to protest, to insult, but Adam moved his hand again, higher this time, and hushed her. He wasn't even looking at her. His eyes were still on the damn TV.

Amy raised her eyebrows. Her hips hurt. Her back hurt. Her tits, damn it, hurt. She couldn’t even wear a bra without it making her chest sore and her nipples leak. She couldn’t sleep on her damn back —holy shit, she couldn’t sleep at all with a huge baby constantly pressing down on her vital organs—and last time she had to bend over to pick one of Adam’s messes, she almost wet herself. 

And this asshole she had married had the damn nerve to tell her to move.

Amy sucked in a breath —as much as she could, which wasn’t much at all, because the baby had been crushing her lungs since she hit the last trimester— and let the sneakers fall to the floor.

“I’m going to spend the night at my mom’s place,” Amy spat out. 

That got Adam's attention for a second before he turned back to the TV.

“Honey…” Adam sighed, eyes following the players.

“Don’t call.” Amy cut him off, walking away. She was sure he wasn’t listening.

Adam exhaled, his body sinking even more against the couch. His eyes drifted from the fight starting on the field to Amy. His eyes lingered on his wife's form as she waddled away, disappearing into the darkness towards their bedroom.

Adam clicked her tongue, shook his head, and his eyes moved back to the TV. She would get over it in the morning.

***

As per Amy's request, Adam didn’t call. He heard the front door shut right as his team scored the second goal of the night, then the sound of Amy's mom's car pulling away in the driveway.

By the time Adam finally headed to bed, feet dragging across the tile, he was already a bit dizzy from the alcohol and ready to crash. He, indeed, tripped over his own sketchers in the hallway— he would pick them up in the morning. Surely.

It was not the first time Amy had gotten mad over something so silly, and Adam was sure it was not going to be the last. Like clockwork, she would come back home the next morning, and they would pretend nothing had happened. That was the idea he went to sleep with: next morning, when he opened his eyes, he would see Amy’s pregnancy pillow next to him and his wife’s body sprawled on the mattress, turned in that uncomfortable angle she could only sleep these days.

Adam breathed. Outside, the birds were chirping. He could feel the warm sunlight coming in through the curtains he forgot to close last night. Shit, his back hurt. 

They probably should have gotten a new mattress. Amy had said something about that, about getting a new one, maybe a new bed too, right before the whole pregnancy thing. The idea got swallowed in the whirlwind of everything else that came with the baby.

His head felt so heavy. And his stomach was definitely upset. He was going to have to ask Amy where they kept the aspirin.

Adam opened his eyes, forcing himself up straight with a groan. He must have slept weird last night, because his whole body protested at the movement. He could barely sit straight without his back killing him already? Maybe they were really due for a new mattress.

His hand reached towards the bedside to turn off the alarm clock, feet hitting the cold tile of the floor as he blindly looked for his slippers, hand brushing over his face, fingers scratching his stubble. His movements were automatic, mechanical. Half of his brain was still in dreamland, and the other half was barely making him move.

Then, ideally, he would turn around and walk towards the bathroom while the smell of breakfast carried from the kitchen, where Amy would be making pancakes like every Saturday. Today, nothing. 

Which was good, actually, because as soon as Adam thought about Amy's pancakes, the idea made him gag.

Adam stretched. His slippers brushed against the floor, feet dragging slowly towards the bathroom. He stumbled with his own sneakers on the hallways, still in the very same place Amy had dropped them yesterday. Adam cursed out loud. His mind was barely boarding the awake plane.

The bathroom door creaked when he opened it —Amy had asked, somewhere, at some point, for him to oil it— and he moved towards the toilet. Lifted the lid, huffed when he had to maneuver around his stomach to get to the hem of his briefs.

Adam blinked once, then twice. His head snapped up from his stomach, neck protesting when he turned towards the mirror. He saw the exact moment when his eyes caught sight of the shape of his body, the exact moment his brain realized that he looked different. 

He looked pregnant. There was no other way to describe it.

He didn’t look bloated. He didn’t look overstuffed. The reflection in the mirror did not look like the result of one too many beers or an extra plate of microwave pasta he definitely shouldn’t have had. His stomach was huge, tight, distended in front of him. He looked like some shitty cartoon character that just swallowed a beach ball. 

Adam blinked. Maybe it was one of those glitches where your brain makes up a whole new reality just because of some trick of the lights and shadow the morning light was filtering through the small bathroom window. A momentary leak from dreamland that his brain hadn’t caught up on yet. He was expecting that next time he opened his eyes, his body was going to go back to normal. 

It didn’t. He blinked again, only to find the same image staring back.

Oh, he had to be dreaming. Please let it be a dream.

Adam breathed. He squeezed the skin of his arms between his thumb and index finger, hissing at the pain. Nothing changed. He pinched the skin of his arm again, harder.

He was still… well, fucking pregnant.

And fucking no one could come here and tell him he wasn’t pregnant. He looked exactly what Amy had looked —well, still looked like, right? 

Given the situation, it seemed perfectly logical that he was sweating.

He was sweating. Adam pressed the back of his palm to his forehead, feeling the heat of his skin against skin, feeling the damp surface of his skin. 

Then, he lowered a trembling hand towards his stomach. Adam's finger hovered over, barely touching. The skin, his skin, was now something alien and weird, tight and distended where it wasn't supposed to be. It was out of place in his own body; the huge, gravid bump hanging in front of him was out of place. He pressed down against the tense surface, feeling the hot skin beneath.

A sharp wave of heat took over his body. Adam could feel his own blood, sizzling and palpitating inside his body, moving lower. Lower, from one head to the other. 

The fabric of his briefs was suddenly growing tight against his crotch. Uncomfortably tight. Adam looked down, expecting to see the usual swell bulging out at the front of his crotch. Instead, he found the swollen surface of his stomach. Of fucking course. 

The man groaned, face turning into a frustrated scowl. He turned around, walking— no, not walking, waddling towards the door. This couldn’t be happening, not to him.

The discomfort in his crotch was becoming worse, his underwear suddenly feeling unnecessary. If he could have, he would have reached right there and pulled them down, would have let his raging boner free, but he didn’t trust he was going to be able to reach down, slid off his underwear, and not fall to the ground during the whole process. He could barely stand straight with the sudden, new weight his body and brain were still adjusting to.

God, it was gruesome. The man in front of him looked nothing like the Adam he was used to looking at every morning in the mirror. There were no signs of his stomach, of the muscle beneath the hairy skin. Where that was supposed to be, instead… that. The stretched, tight skin over the gravid dome, the stretch marks that now traveled from the sides of his middle, down his ribs, and forward, as if they had been growing and carving themselves on his skin for months now. Almost marking the way this sudden expansion took its course. There was a dark, prominent line in the middle of his stomach, from the top following down to the base, covering his popped belly button. 

Adam brushed a hand through his hair. When he moved his hand up, a sharp pain took over his chest, discomfort growing on his pectorals. Not exactly painful, but terribly uncomfortable. He looked down at his own chest. Oh, hell no. His pectorals were swollen. 

They hadn't grown, but he could see the striking difference from the night before. Now, they were swollen, bloated, and his own nipples had darkened and enlarged. With a quiet whimper, Adam took two fingers and tentatively pinched the raw skin of his aureola. 

Adam hissed, his body jerking forward as his hands immediately moved away from his chest and flew to the sink, knuckles turning white as he gripped the cold ceramic. His legs trembled.

Adam stared in awe at his own reflection, under his gravid stomach, as he saw a dark spot starting to form on his underwear, the pressing bulge becoming flaccid. 

“Holy shit,” Adam breathed, voice quivering, legs still trembling.

There was a moment where his brain went quiet, all of his neuronal connections basking in the afterglow of his sudden, premature orgasm. He almost managed to forget the whole deal he was in. He had just cum in his stupid boxers. From one single touch at the raw skin of his way too large for a man nipple.

He forgot about the toilet, about the dead erection, about everything. The side of his gravid stomach bumped against the bathroom sink when he turned around, and he hit the half-closed door when he rushed to get out. 

He had to do something. What, though? He didn’t care; anything but remain there and stare at his own reflection. He ran —well, waddled— towards the bedroom. 

He felt like throwing up. Not only because of the situation, but because the small try to sprint from the bathroom to the bedroom left him almost out of breath. God, he was heavy. Heavy and stuffed. There was a growing, overpowering discomfort in his middle; he could feel his stomach extended to the limit, with whatever was pushing from the inside taking all the space.

He reached for his phone. The first thought that crossed his mind was to do the sensible thing and dial 911 or any kind of emergency service. Then, of course, Adam realized that the sensible thing to do couldn't possibly involve a man calling anyone and telling them hey I woke up pregnant, please help me.

Amy. He had to call Amy.

His fingers trembled as he looked through his phone for his wife's number. Adam pressed call.

He was there, standing in the middle of his bedroom, waiting for Amy to pick up for less than a minute, but time had become a glutinous thing in his mind, and it felt like an eternity. And Amy didn’t pick up.

Fucking shit. Adam threw the phone on the bed the moment he heard the voicemail thing coming in, the robotic voice asking him to leave a message after the tone.

“Shit,” Adam sighed, staring between his phone and his stomach. “No, no, no…”

Well, he had to do something. Anything, and he realized that he had to do something with urgency. As he stood there, nausea coming up his throat as he stared at his own stomach, he felt something moving inside. Adam swallowed as, to his utter horror, he saw the shape of something that resembled way too closely a tiny hand pushing the skin, bulging one point of his stomach out.

His brain glitched for a moment as he thought about what to do next, frozen in place until the steps in his brain were clear enough to allow him to move without panic shaking through his body. First, get something decent on. Then, get the car keys.

He moved towards the closet. It took him an embarrassing amount of time to find one shirt that fit and didn't make him look like some kind of himbo wearing a tank top, to find one that did stretch over the dome of his stomach, one that fit at least to cover half of it.

Then, pants. Not a problem finding one, the problem was getting them on.

Holy shit, Adam couldn't understand how Amy was able to do this every day. He could barely reach over his stomach, and it took him the longest five minutes of his life to finally be able to get one leg inside the pants. By the time he was done, he was huffing, sweat dripping from his forehead, face red, his back screaming.

Shit. He was so heavy. He could physically feel the weight of whatever was inside of him pulling him down with each movement. And he confirmed it as he went to stand up. He could not get up. Adam breathed, hands gripping the bedside table as he swung back and forth a few times before he managed to lift himself up. How embarrassing.

Adam tried to steady his breathing as he waddled towards the front door. The next steps of his plan involved getting out of the damn house, avoid any neighbors, and run (well, metaphorically) to his car.

The warm air hit the exposed skin of his underbelly as he slid outside. The shirt he managed to put on didn't cover all. His eyes darted around, taking in his surroundings, as if he were expecting something to jump right at him the moment he put a foot outside. He could hear the sound of a lawnmower nearby, probably Rupert, his neighbor, working in the backyard.

Well, he could rule that one out. Robert’s wife and daughters were probably busy at that one park they went to every single Saturday morning. More people crossed off the list of people he did not want to see right now.

He lowered himself on the first slowly, too slowly, almost as if he didn’t trust his own balance anymore. He couldn't help it when one of his hands moved to his lower back, fingers digging against the tense muscle, and the other moved to cup the base of his stomach as he got down.

He looked around again. No one in sight. Adam started walking towards his car, hurried steps against the gravel, when suddenly—

“Oh, look at you!” 

Adam froze. His heart was in his throat as he turned around to find his neighbor, one of the old ladies who lived down the street. He couldn’t remember her name, something like Joanna or whatever. Adam swallowed, taking a step towards the car. He just had to get there, get there, slide inside and lock the door behind him. Maybe if he rushed (which wasn’t a feasible forecast) and pretended he hadn’t seen the old woman, he could come out on top this time.

That didn’t happen. The woman almost materialized in front of him from thin air before he could realize. Did she run? He wasn’t aware that anyone that age could cross the street so fast. Without thinking, Adam’s first reaction was to turn around, face away from her to escape, but that was useless because the woman came into his personal space, grabbing his arm gently to turn him around. 

“God, you’re huge!” the woman beamed, looking down at his stomach.

Adam opened his mouth, then closed it again. The words abandoned his brain. His body reacted before his mind did, and one of his arms flew to his middle, putting distance between his gravid stomach and the woman, a ridiculous attempt to hide the obvious. That didn’t do anything to stop the woman from, anyway, leaning in closer and brushing his arm away to cradle his stomach, palms pressing against the tense muscles of the sides. 

Then, the nerve, she patted it. Three small slaps on the tight drum surface of his belly. 

“You’re carrying so low, this little one must be coming any day now,” the woman said, hands still roaming his stomach. “You must be getting ready for this whole new baby deal, aren’t you? Let me tell you one thing: you'd better sleep now while you still can. Once this one is out,” she chuckled, low and amused. “It all is going to be just diapers and bottles and-”

The woman kept talking, but Adam was no longer listening. He could see her lips moving, eyes shining as they traveled around the surface of his bump, but his focus was on the whole insanity of the situation, and most importantly, in the way his body was reacting to the coarse touch, sending the familiar sensation of heat creeping up his body.

The familiar tightness started to form in his crotch. He could feel himself getting another boner, just because of the fondling hands roaming over his stomach. 

The woman in front of him was still taking, apparently unaware of the raging boner that was now bulging out the front of his pants. And damn, he had to pick those stupid sweatpants. He felt his own body almost slacking the moment the woman finally stopped talking, somewhere between the last pat on his tense stomach and the disappearing figure of the woman as she walked down the sidewalk, happily humming some shitty song. 

Adam breathed. He, again, tried to look down, reach between his legs to try and feel his hard cock, but he couldn’t. He turned around to open the damn car door. 

His body protested the moment he lowered himself into the driver’s seat. First, the sharp pain crushing on his lower back, on his pelvis —something heavy pushing down on his hips, like a bowling ball settling inside of him— and then, the side of his stomach throbbing when he hit the steering wheel. Adam cursed out loud when he moved the seat back, forced by his own body, to fucking fit. On his own damned car.

He turned on the engine. Adam shifted as the car rumbled, pushing his hips back as far as he could, legs spreading wide to accommodate the gravid stomach hanging in between them. God, this was so uncomfortable. He put on the seatbelt and took it off almost immediately when the pressure of the band pressing against his sensitive stomach became so restrictive. He could barely sit straight. And he definitely could not stand the pressure between his legs.

And he was fucking horny. Properly horny, unable to distract himself from the boner in his pants.

“Focus, man,” Adam muttered to himself, hands at ten and two as he drove out of the driveway. “Focus.”

He wasn’t sure what exactly he had to focus on. Maybe on the way he had to consciously force his body to lean forward, hunched over himself, trying to hide as much of his body as possible, escaping the atrocious idea that someone could see him like this on the street, or maybe on the way he was trying so, so hard to force his brain to focus on what he had intended to do: drive where Amy.

Yeah, that was the plan. He had to drive where Amy.

***

He knew the way to Amy’s mom's place like the palm of his hand. He had driven a hundred times since the first day they met, every single weekend for three years after they got married. He knew the exact route he had to take if he wanted to be there in less than ten minutes.

And still, sitting back on the driver's seat, his body forcing him to sit properly and stop hunching, unable to take any more of the deep, uncomfortable pressure on his pelvis, Adam was driving the opposite way.

The only thing that eased the pressure was giving up, leaning back, spreading his legs wide. Let the mound of his stomach fall and push down on his thighs, feeling the baby inside of him squirm and move with every turn of the car, with every sudden stop.

Yes, he had gone quite over the acceptance that inside of him there was a baby. It couldn’t be anything else. 

The GPS told him to turn left at the next corner. 

He knew Amy’s mom's house route by memory. And still drove the other way, quite the opposite side of the city.

The boner in his pants was throbbing hard, and he couldn’t think about anything else but the feeling of it rubbing against the lower part of his stomach every time his hips shifted. The bar came into view as soon as he turned left, same old neon sign glowing in broad daylight. There were already parked cars outside.

He could still remember very vividly his last night in this place.

Adam promised himself it was going to be just a one-time thing. Under the circumstances —everything was already odd enough— he could allow a slip.

The car stopped outside the front door. Adam let out a moan when he finally moved to slide out of the driver's seat, pain taking over his stiff body, over the aching muscles of his hips and back. He tilted his tight body to the left, moving his legs out of the car one by one. He couldn't help but whimper when he gripped the open door to lift himself up, and Adam didn’t even remember to lock the car door before he started marching towards the bar entrance.

His body was moving almost involuntarily; he was not really thinking, only letting the urge to get his damn ass inside that place fuel him. His brain had turned into a burning pulp. All he could think about was fucking. All he could think about was the many times he got fucked so well right inside this very place. He could feel the heat taking over his body again.

Suddenly, Adam became hyperaware of the way his gravid body was moving, feeling, existing in this new, disgusting version of himself. Of the way he waddled on the pavement, his hips swaying with each movement. How his stomach hung low in front of him, tight and wobbling with each step, the weight inside arching his back. He couldn’t be pregnant; he shouldn't be carrying anything inside of him. He shouldn't be the one having these irrational hormonal responses where all he could think about was getting off, the constant pressure of something pressing against his prostate making his dick throb.

And, out of all the things that shouldn’t be happening, the worst was that he was letting his impulses take over.

The place smelled like smoke and sweat. And it was exactly the same as he remembered.

The same flashing lights hanging from the ceiling, the dark room, the smoke machine running like it was a Friday night and not lunchtime. There was already a couple making out in one of the couches, hands deep inside each other's pants.

His dick throbbed.

The door closed behind him with a soft thud. Once again, his hands found his back, fingers digging against the strained muscle. As soon as he caught himself like that, he forced his hands back into his pockets.

He had a momentary lapse of cool where he cleared his throat, straightened himself, and looked around, trying to look nonchalant. As if the boner in his pants didn't speak for itself. Adam felt his body temperature rising again. And he was back stuck in the feeling of how tight his shirt felt against the hot skin of his stomach, how every time the fabric rubbed against his popped belly button would send thunder down his spine, how tight and inconvenient his clothes were.

“Well, look at you,” a familiar voice drawled. “Look what the cat dragged in. Haven't seen you in a while.”

He didn't even have to turn around to recognize Marco's voice.

For a moment, Adam felt like a deer in the headlights. It had been a while since he last was here, and he didn't leave exactly on good terms after one too many beers. What even was he going to say? He probably should just turn around and leave. It was a mistake coming here in the first place.

Except that his own body turned towards Marco, facing the man. He saw the exact moment the other man's eyes moved down, taking in his stomach, raising one eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“You're huge,” he said drily. “Cat got your tongue, huh?”

What was up with him and cats today? 

“I, huh…” Adam swallowed, clearing his throat. His dick twitched in his pants. “I was just driving by and, uh…”

“And got hard just thinking about us?” The other man teased, eyeing the bulge in his pants. 

This time, the cat indeed got his tongue. 

“Come on,” Marco said, taking one step closer. “I can help you out. For old time's sake.”

He didn't pull away when Marco took a step closer; he didn't move when he felt his fingers grab his throbbing cock over the fabric of his sweatpants and start stroking. He wanted to, but he didn't. He didn't push his hand away when Marco lifted his shirt, exposing the tight skin of his stomach, and neither when it moved up to grope at his swollen pecs. 

How humiliating. It only took one firm stroke, and he turned into a slut. 

Marco' breath smelled of alcohol this early in the day, and Adam didn't resist when he was pulled into one of the couches, his body plopping down awkwardly. His hands moved to his pants, hips jerking and squirming as he tried to pull them down.

“Turn around,” Marco said, already fiddling with the belt of his pants.

“Right here?” Adam grimaced.

“Yes, right here” the other man replied, undoing the zipper of his jeans where his own throbbing erection was already bulging out. “Come on.”

Adam did as he told. He knew the deal. Except that now the deal was a bit harder with a huge gravid stomach in his way. Before he realized, Marco leaned in, his body hovering over him as he moved to slide his shirt off, tossing it aside. Adam bit his lips, looking down at his exposed stomach, then up at Marco. The man was already busy stroking his own dick, hungry eyes moving over his stomach. Adam was sure that if Marco didn't have the same urgency as him, his hands would already be groping his stomach.

He turned around, leaning against the couch's backrest, the skin of his stomach pressing and rubbing against the faux leather. His back arched, muscles screaming at the position, feeling the weight of his stomach hanging in front of him, but Adam's hips jerked back anyway as he spread his knees open.

Good God. He was face down ass up in the middle of a gay bar he hadn't been in months —and hadn't intended to come back to— just a minute away from having this guy fucking his ass because he couldn't help but be a desperate cockslut.

His stomach tensed. 

Adam's eyes snapped open, not only at the sudden pain in his middle, but at the realization. What the fuck he was doing right now? And the worst part of it all was the way every single one of the cells in his body that were trying to get him to get the fuck up and leave, to go do something else with his life, melted away when he felt the tip of Marco’s cock pressing against his hole.

Adam’s hips pushed back.

It was almost as if his body was taking every single decision on its own, not really allowing his brain to even have a moment to say no. Not like Adam wanted to complain, because he let out a shameful moan the moment Marco’s dick slid inside his tight hole. His body shifted, nails digging at the faux leather of the couch. 

He felt Marco's fingers gripping at his hips to steady himself before the man started pounding inside of him. Adam's body trembled, muscles tensing at the sudden filling of having Marco's dick filling him up, at the feeling of his stomach bumping against the couch with each thrust of the man.

God, it felt so good. A rush of heat crawled up his body when Adam started to move his hips back, meeting each one of Marco's movements. He could feel every touch, every grip, every rub of his swollen body. Marco thrust into him with a steady rhythm, a moan escaping his lips every time the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, louder than the music.

Adam let out a loud moan when Marco fastened his pace. His head jerked up and back, fingers tightening at the back of the couch. Just then, he realized that the few people who were at the bar had started watching them, curious eyes lurking from the dark corner.

"Fuuuck..." Adam moaned, letting his head fall against the couch, equal parts embarrassment and neediness. "Shit. Fuck, faster."

Marco felt the man's gravid stomach tensing beneath his fingertips, and his movements became faster, less steady. The only thing that put a stop to the rush of bliss starting to run through his body was the sudden presence of someone else coming up to them, standing in front of Adam.

"Damn, look who's back," Christian said, eyes darting between Adam's wrecked body and Marco behind him. "I was watching, but I just couldn't resist," he smirked, looking up at Marco, "Mind sharing him a bit?"

Adam let out a groan. He would recognize that voice anywhere. As soon as he lifted his head up, his hand was already reaching forward, trying to pull down Christian's sweatpants and reach his dick.

"Eager, are we?"

A whimper escaped Adam's mouth when he felt Marco slide out of his hole, suddenly feeling too empty. Christian leaned in, slapping his face gently before pointing at him to turn around, and then he circled the couch.

When Adam turned around, his body protested. He let out a groan when he felt the pressure of something moving down inside of him, settling right between his legs, almost as if something was trying to make its way out of him. His cock twitched when he leaned forward and sat straight, and the pressure inside of him pressed down with all force on his prostate as he sat there with his legs spread open and his huge stomach hanging between his thighs. God, he wanted to cum so bad.

One of his hands found Marco's dick, and the other Christian's. He started to stroke.

Another contraction —because he was having contractions— cramped his middle. Christian dick throbbed on Adam’s hand as he saw the gravid stomach contracting, the muscle shifting beneath the tight skin. He could see the exact moment the contraction started, even when Adam was busy fighting to keep his focus on stroking both dicks, biting his lip to keep himself from screaming. This guy looked ready to pop any minute now; it was a wonder how he could still keep that baby in, both men wondered how it was possible he was still going on like this.

"Shit, I'm—I'm gonna cum," Marco hissed, eyes shutting as his hips jerked forward. "Fuck, Adam...!

Marco came first, his hot seed shooting in an urgent manner, squirting all over Adam’s hand. Adam felt himself leaking a bit of precum, his cock twitching at the sight.

Christian came soon after at the view of Adam licking Marco's cum off his fingers, face flushed and stomach still contracting between his legs. 

The three men stayed there for a moment, panting in the aftermath of their orgasms.

Adam, for a moment, was completely lost in the feeling of his burning body, in the feeling of pressure moving down on his pelvis. He felt like something was just about to fall off him, and whatever it was that was moving down was inching lower and lower towards his hole. The boner between his legs confirmed it again.

Adam let out a groan as he tilted his body slowly, aware of the ache in his stomach, on his back, of the fire spreading on his middle each time his stomach contracted. A small thread of precum slid out of his throbbing dick when he rocked his body forward with another groan before turning back around again, the baby’s head pressing down against his prostate with the movement, bracing his arms against the back of the couch, spreading his legs wide, and pushing his hips up again. 

Apparently, they were giving a good enough show, because they got an audience. Adam had barely realized when they started to become surrounded by guys with hungry eyes and raging erections, jerking off to the picture of his gravid body being ravaged.

God, it was pathetic. He was embarrassing. How humiliating it was that he couldn't care less if someone was watching, he just wanted someone to fuck him right now.

Christian took a step forward, stroking his dick. One of his hands moved to rub over Adam's stomach as his dick pressed against the pregnant man's back. Marco leaned in too, one of his hands moving to grope Adam's swollen chest.

A stream of something white leaked from his erect nipple as soon as Marco pressed, the liquid dripping down his chest and over his stomach.

"Shit," Adam hissed, tilting his head around, back arching against Christian's body. "Just fuck me already, please...!"

His words were interrupted when Christian lifted his hand and slapped his ass, hard.

There was a moment where Adam felt his stomach contracting, the known fire spreading through his middle, but this time his body jerked, trembled as he leaned forward when he felt the pressure between his legs increasing. He felt a fleeting moment of panic when it felt like something was moving lower and trying to come out of him.

A gush of liquid came out of his hole, dripping down his thighs and onto the fake leather of the couch.

"Uh, oh," Christian took a step back, his dick rock hard in his hand. "Looks like we popped you."