Undertaker33
patreon
[$20] Five Buns Full: Chapter 7 (Beta Copy)
🕑 Added 2021-05-24 09:21:44 +0000 UTC“Don’t be a moron. Of course you’re not pregnant with quintuplets.”
“Don’t call her a moron!” shouted Ichika.
“Don’t call her a moron…” threatened Miku.
“Don’t call her a moron!!!” wobbled Itsuki.
“God, I’m such a moron…” mumbled Nino.
The three girls turned back to their pregnant sister, her head still hanging as she faced down towards her swollen stomach. She felt as if she’d regained all of the weight she’d so recently lost, her tummy pressed tight to her blue top in a tiny pinch of softness over her skirt.
It was the food, that was all. She’d eaten too much… but she was allowed to eat as much as she wanted!! She was pregnant, she was stressed. That’s all this was, right? Hormones or whatever, she’d read about those. Nino knew she tended to go a little overboard. Right now, she just wanted to sit in his lap, nuzzle his neck, and enjoy a really big bar of chocolate.
They had other things they needed to do. That he was even here meant this lunch had clearly lasted longer than she had planned.
The only one still seated at the table inside Sumo Sushi, Nino was able to really take in just how many servings she’d scarfed down. Her fingers and lips still felt sticky with sauce, no matter how much she wiped herself off with her napkin. Yet the most pressing sensation was the weight in her abdomen, an excess of fatty fish with fried chicken and ginger-soaked rice, and how her stomach barely cared to acknowledge it.
She should feel stuffed, she should feel hungry, but Nino’s appetite wasn’t tempered at all! Despite looking at her two empty plates, knowing each had been stacked high with the rolls, Nino could feel herself wanting for something sweet. To just go home, have some ice cream or… pie or… whatever a stupid, pregnant, hormonal idiot should have.
Both her hands still around her tummy, Nino breathed out a long, heavy sigh before looking up at her husband.
Fuutarou hadn’t changed out of his doctoral scrubs, his arms crossed as he stood just before his dumb little bunny. She was glad that he hadn’t. He’d probably look handsomer, which was always a plus, but Fuutarou had a habit of always being dressed for the part, and Nino really needed to hear from a doctor right now.
The sisters were on either side of the pair to create a tight, red-colored huddle. They waited in silence as she and they watched one another for a bit before she reached out and, very lightly, kicked his shin.
“Don’t call your wife a moron, you idiot.”
Fuutarou’s flat expression turned up at the corner to form a loving, wolfish smirk. “You called me a moron just this morning.”
“That’s different,” she reached up, tapping him again with her foot. “You are one.”
He chuckled, taking a step back from Nino to address her sisters more than herself. Doctor Fuutarou Uesugi exuded an air of educated confidence as he spoke. “You’re not a moron. None of you are. Which is why I’m surprised that possibility even occurred to you.”
Ichika grunted, moving to Nino’s side at the table. “It didn’t,” she said. She took the small bottle of sake, spinning it before her and saying, “It was Yotsuba, actually,” before taking a long drink.
Most people might have missed the slight changes. The crease near the corner of his eye, the slightest tug downward on his lips. Nino knew her husband, knew his thoughts as well as she knew her own, and could once more feel them inside of her own mind.
Yotsuba had run off. Again.
He had obviously noticed she wasn’t here. Worse yet, he probably saw her run out the door.
But her husband surprised Nino, then. There was no scathing reply or sarcastic affirmation, just a simple, silent, shrug.
Nino almost wished he’d said something mean. Something she could get mad at him for. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel so mad at her sister.
“Well, Yotsuba could be right!” Itsuki popped in. “Just because she thought of it first… I mean, everything in our lives, it always comes in fives. We’re quintuplets!”
Fuutarou’s eyes rolled as they made their way to Itsuki. “We have a hard enough time inseminating an artificial quintuplet pregnancy. The chances for a true quintuplet pregnancy are less than one in sixty-million.”
Itsuki opened her mouth to respond but was cut off as Fuutarou’s finger sliced through the air to point at her mouth.
“Sixty. Not fifty, so don’t start with the superstitious crap.”
Itsuki looked as if she were going to bite his finger off, saying, “Five still goes into sixty.”
Fuutarou folded his arms. “You people…” he said, shaking his head. “You’re number five, aren’t you? Wouldn’t that mean it would only affect you?”
“Two goes into sixty as well!” Itsuki shot back.
“So does one!” Fuutarou exasperated. “And three, and four.”
Itsuki’s eyes abruptly became very wide.
“Enough!” Nino shouted, rising from her seat. She crossed to her husband, putting a hand on his chest. “Fuutarou knows what he’s talking about, alright? If he says it’s impossible, then it’s impossible.”
Fuutarou tilted his head. “Thank you.”
Motion, action. Nino felt a bit of that heat returning to her. Standing helped, somehow, and the hollow ache in her tummy slowly drifting away.
One kid. They could handle one kid. One cute little daughter with a cute little face. They could get a new apartment, if they saved well enough. Two bedrooms, a crib, some clothes and some toys. They’d paid off Fuutarou’s medical school bills, the loans for the café were finally finished. They’d been looking forward to a few years of financial enjoyment, but did it matter now?
They had a baby on the way. Nino was going to be a mother, and Fuutarou a father. Mama bunny and Papa wolf.
Her hand on her tummy, Nino could feel her shoulders relaxing until her loving idiot added, “I guess it’s not impossible though. Just astronomically unlikely.”
A ferocious blue fire blazed from the center of the restaurant, a piercing glare straight into his moronic eyes.
“What?” he asked.
Nino kicked her husband, harder this time.
“Yow!”
“Figure out when to shut up, would ya?! Stupid wolf!!” the little bunny snarled before turning back to her sisters. “It’s astronomically unlikely, okay?”
Each of the three looked away. Every quintuplet, Nino included, knew they defied the astronomically odds every week.
The careful management of the broth, the exact science of baking a cake, the memorization and practice of lines, or the cohesive building of a study plan.
The creator who tends to their creation.
Fate.
Nino was a quintuplet born on May the fifth. She stood 5’5 tall and weighed 55 kilograms… plus or minus a few…
She glanced down at herself.
Plus a few kilograms… God, what was she thinking?! She had a huge breakfast already, how could she eat so much for lunch and still feel like she wanted dessert?!
“P-p-pardon my intrusion…”
The group turned to see a small girl, who Nino recognized as the young hostess from the front desk, bowing low and extending a small leather-bound booklet. Nino noticed that the girl seemed to be offering the booklet directly to Itsuki, her slender arms trembling even worse than her voice.
“W-w-would you like some dessert? On the h-h-house, of co-course…”
Fate.
There was a very loud grumble from a hungry tummy. Miku and Ichika both snapped to their littlest sister and her butterball belly, only to see Itsuki had turned to face Nino.
The bunny’s face had blanched, her arms covering her middle in a bashful wince. With her red cardigan obscuring her nice blue dress clothes, Nino Uesugi resembled a girl that was twice her size, and five times as hungry.
A very fat smile appeared on Itsuki’s very fat face. “I think one of us does~” she teased.
“N-no way!” Nino denied. “I’ve already eaten too much!”
“Only about eighteen hundred calories,” Miku said.
Nino glared at her sister before her tummy rumbled quietly, a wet murmur that flexed her tight skin against her tighter skirt. Enough color drained from her face to make her red hair look scarlet before a hand appeared on her shoulder and pulled her into her husband’s grasp. He wrapped his hands over hers, intertwining together while whispering to her ear, “You could always have something wrapped up. We’ve got to get going, though.”
“I know, I know…” Nino grumbled, groaning and leaning into him. She let her hands drop, leaving him cupping her stomach while saying, “Fine… what do you suggest?”
The young hostess lifted herself, blinking furiously as her eyes kept darting to look at back to Itsuki and her massive stomach. Clearly, this was not what she’d been expecting. “U-ummm, well, uhh, Miss… Miss May’s sister, we have ice cream tempura-”
Nino’s tummy whined.
“S-strawberry dessert squares-”
Nino’s belly rumbled.
“A-a-and fried cheesecake…”
Itsuki’s stomach roared so loudly that it would have eclipsed Miku’s, had the middle quintuplet’s hands not immediately gripped herself beneath her tight red sweater in a startled snap. Even Ichika, the only girl who looked like she might know the meaning of the words ‘dietary restrictions,’ seemed to perk up at the mention of the specialty dessert.
“Ooooo,” Itsuki yearned, “I’ll have one of those cheesecakes, please. With cherries! I guess we should get ours to go, too, right Miku?”
“Not ours…” Miku mumbled, twisting to the side as if to try and hide how fat she really was, but only further exposing her foodie profile. “I-I ate too much too…” Her dark hair bristled as she was again betrayed by her belly.
“Awe, come on,” Itsuki leaned forward, grinning as she wrapped an arm around Miku’s round waist. “We can share a few wedges, and then save some for later!”
“Don’t those normally come in singular slices?” Fuutarou whispered into Nino’s ear.
Nino’s tastebuds controlled her mouth. “If they have full cakes, we’re getting one.”
Fuutarou gave a soft, wolfish chuckle, his hands tightening on her belly. “There’s that confidence.”
The hungry redhead felt herself bristle, a chill spread over from the heat of his breath and she realized how quickly he had just turned her on. His hands tightened around her, pulling her further into his chest and squeezing her shoulders between his arms.
“What are you doing?” she breathed, feeling her teeth graze her lip while Itsuki took the menu from the hostess and was adding onto her order of dessert.
“Just holding you,” he replied. There was warmth in it that made the butterflies in Nino’s belly calm. She leaned further into his shoulder, turning up her neck so she could see him. He was watching the others but not seeing them, every thought worn on his handsome face.
Nino lifted up, kissed his cheek, then held his hands around her belly, lightly twisting back and forth. All she wanted was to just be held.
“Are we all good to see Papa after this?” she asked.
“Mhmm,” he responded. “He wants us to meet him at a lunch stop near the hospital.”
“You didn’t have any problems this morning?”
“Nope. All’s good at the café, and I’ve got another resident covering for me now, so I’m just on call.” He rose a half-inch off of her, taking a small pager that was clipped to his waist and showing her the time. “Should be good for another few hours.”
Nino snorted, watching as Miku leaned over Itsuki’s shoulder to peer at the menu for herself. “Well, let’s not make second lunches a regular thing, okay?”
When he didn’t respond, Nino glanced up to see Fuutarou was grinning at her. It was not a kind smile. Rather, it was the predatory smirk of a hunter seeing his prey caught in a trap. “Oh? You don’t believe in your numbers?” his hand squeezed the softness of Nino’s waist. “I was thinking you’d want two of every meal.”
Nino gulped.
Ichika slowly made her way around the quick-talking Itsuki, who was quickly working herself up into a fervor, passing by the danger zone to Nino’s side. Together, they watched the bubbly girl’s heavy hips and long bushy hair wave bouncily from side to side as she asked more questions about the tiny menu, her fatty finger poking each individual line.
It was ridiculous. How had she gotten so big? She made Miku, who would easily be the biggest girl in the restaurant if Itsuki wasn’t there, look pudgy. Miku was obese, but only half Itsuki’s size! Flabby pale shoulders, large weighty breasts, a belly so big that it was eating her pants. Then her hips, how in the world did she get pants on?! Nino had believed she’d had fat thighs before starting her diet, but they were like matchsticks next to the tumultuous quivering of the swaying quintuplet.
Then Nino noticed the bright golden teeth of Itsuki’s zipper, and it quickly became apparent that even this size was too small for her sister. How much could one girl eat?!
A weight in her gut was afraid of the answer.
“Jeez. She can really go, can’t she?” Ichika whispered.
“Well, look at the size of her,” Fuutarou replied, surprisingly without any malice or taunt. “She must take in over four thousand calories just to maintain that weight.”
“How heavy is she?”
Nino felt Fuutarou shrug. “You could always ask her, yourself.”
“No way!” Ichika seemed startled. “Do you know how embarrassing that must be?!?”
“Wow, really?!” the heavyweight’s voice cut through their quiet conversation. “A full sixteen?! That sounds perfect, I, love, the strawberry squares. Oh, and I’ve been meaning to ask, do you guys do delivery?”
“She seems pretty unabashed,” Fuutarou humored.
“Mghhh,” Nino grunted, her thighs wiggling together while her grip tightened on her husband’s fingers. “It’s embarrassing how hungry I still feel.”
Fuutarou loosed an easy breath that felt like a smile. “I can tell,” he massaged her belly.
A very whiny noise escaped the hungry rabbit, feeling more than seeing Ichika’s taunting grin.
“Okay, so that’ll be three cheesecakes, a pint of red bean ice cream, and a sheet of strawberry squares. Oh,” she hopped, “and Nino’s slice, too!”
“A full cheesecake,” Nino cut in. “Not a slice.”
Both Miku and Itsuki looked almost shocked. “Eh? Really?? You can’t eat that much,” Itsuki said. “There’s like ten pieces!”
Nino’s eyes narrowed. “You’re getting three! If you can eat all that-”
Itsuki’s pudgy lips formed an immense pout. “They’re not all for me! I’m only getting one! There’s no way you’ll finish, it’ll go to waste.”
Nino felt like she was being insulted.
“You’re getting a full one for yourself,” Nino turned up her nose, “then I can get one as well. I’m pregnant, I can eat what I want.”
Itsuki looked like she was going to argue, but both girls were cut off by an exceptionally out of place sound. Nino could feel it behind her, and though she was familiar with the sound, it still so infrequent as to draw her curiosity.
Nino leaned backwards to see her husband laughing. It was soft, smug, and entirely self-satisfied, like the slam of a cage on a soft bunny’s trap.
“You better make it two cheesecakes,” Fuutarou told the serving girl, his hands pinching into Nino’s tummy and lifting the softness for all to see. “Mama, here, has something to prove.”
******************************************************************************
“I hate you,” Nino lied.
“Yeah, okay,” Fuutarou chuckled.
The redhead huffed and she puffed, her nails digging into her husband’s leg as they sat on the train. Two very, very, very fat cheesecakes were sitting on his lap, one still boxed up while he lifted the top from the other one back.
The mark from her slap had almost completely faded from Fuutarou’s neck, though the bastard probably wished that it hadn’t. He was obviously enjoying having worked her up so much, wearing a smile so sharp that he resembled his father.
Damn him for being so friggin stupid. Damn him for being so friggin cute. Damn herself for being so damn horny. Damn, damn, damn the smell of this fucking cheesecake!
“You can’t just play with my stomach!” Nino complained, trying to ignore its wanting whine. “They were all looking at us, you can’t just… ugh! I’m not supposed to jiggle like that!”
“Mhmm,” Fuutarou dipped a finger into the box, bringing it to his mouth as it dripped with red liquid. Cherry juice, Nino’s nose identified before she let herself really look into the container.
It wasn’t what she was expected. She’d almost forgotten that they’d ordered fried cheesecakes, which the cook in her knew meant each slice had been individually dipped. Little paper walls divided each slice, creamy brown exteriors that looked crunchy and firm, covered with powdered sugar and a heavy serving of cherries and generously decorated with cherries and juice.
Nino wanted to hit him again, but she’d save that for later. When she could follow it by scratching him, then biting him, then tearing his damn clothes off and wrestling with him over who got to be the top first that night.
“Hmph!” she tucked her face into his arm, gnawing his shoulder while glaring up towards his face.
He turned down, giving her a patient and playful smirk. “You know, you didn’t have to get both, right? You could have said no.”
“I wanted both,” she said flatly.
“I know,” his smirk grew.
Nino sat up straight, batting her hands rapidly on his arm. “You’re not supposed to do that! That’s how I gained wedding weight in the first place, you and your family keep buying me food!!”
“Our family,” he reminded.
“You know what I mean!!” she complained. “Raiha buys me chocolates, like, every holiday! Dad keeps getting us gifts to eat out at restaurants. And you! You do things like… this!” Nino waved at the doubled boxes of cheesecake.
Fuutarou shrugged. “Hey, we can afford it now. I’ll take living in excess over going back to white rice and reject beef.” He dipped his hand back into the box.
“There’s such a thing as too much excess!” Nino protested.
Fuutarou huffed a short chuckle. “Let me know when we reach that point, then.”
Nino opened to continue but paused when he lifted his hand. A particularly fat, juicy cherry was mounted onto his thumb. She pursed her lips, feeling the wet squelching from her stomach vibrate against her waistband before narrowing her eyes at him, then taking the cherry into her mouth.
Sweet, sweet, sugar-enhanced cherry juice dribbled onto Nino’s tongue. She felt her eyes lift back and her tummy moan, her tastebuds finally receiving what they’d spent the last half-hour demanding.
Her tongue twisted around his thumb, lips gently suckling the juice that began to dribble downwards. An affectionate groan escaped her throat as he put his other hand on her head, gently rubbing her before his touch traveled down her inner pigtail.
Nino plucked the cherry free, lifting back and chewing the mashed sweetness. “Unff,” she lifted a hand to cover her mouth, speaking into her red cardigan. “W’at kinda cherries are desh?” she asked.
“How should I know?” Fuutarou replied with a lifted eyebrow. “You’re the one who was hogging the menu.”
Nino swallowed. “I didn’t even get to see it!” she pouted. “Itsuki had it!”
“Oh?” Fuutarou looked directly ahead, but there was a mischievous glimmer in his blue eye. “I must not have noticed. You look so alike.”
Nino winced. It was a small moment, but he caught it immediately, the mischief in his eyes snapping into concern.
“Too far?” he asked.
Nino frowned at herself. He was joking. That’s what they did, they were playful with one another. But something about that one…
“A bit…” she grimaced.
She felt his arm move, circling her shoulder and pulling her to him. Nino leaned into his chest while he rubbed her side. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean-”
“I know,” Nino interrupted. She took a deep breath, smelling and staring at the still open cheesecake.
Fuutarou leaned over, kissing her head while his hand fell to her tummy. They sat there for a while, listening to the comfortable quiet of the train. Nino watched the Hachinomori skyline change, the buildings becoming lower as they sailed away from the market district and towards the hospital.
“I wish that waitress had given us a fork,” Nino finally said, feeling more and more teased by the solid dessert. She dabbed her middle finger into the sticky sauce, lapping at it while still laying on Fuutarou’s chest.
“Do you remember the first time you told me you loved me?”
She turned up to look at him, seeing the easy grin on his face. “Of course I do,” she said, then poking him near the ribs. “And I remember you not hearing it, too.”
Fuutarou chuckled. “The second time, then.”
“Yeah,” she said, tucking her hand back to his chest.
His touch moved up, squeezing her shoulder. “I remember freaking out. It was the first time anyone had ever confessed to me.”
“You make me sound so scary,” Nino replied, sitting up.
“Terrifying,” Fuutarou smirked. He turned away, looking out the window at something far far away.
Nino followed him, looking out the window, and saw it. A small teenage girl with a dogged teenage boy. Nino’s hair was so short back then, hardly even reaching her shoulders, while Fuutarou’s arms looked too long for his body, clearly not finished growing.
One of Nino’s legs were shaking, positioned behind her as if she were about to run, but the look on her face was too stubborn. Too proud. She wanted to slap him, to kick him, to kiss him, to hug him.
“Do you remember what you said?” Fuutarou asked.
Nino watched the scene. “I said I love you,” she said, along with her memory.
She saw Fuutarou move, saw herself interrupt him, stepping closer, pinning him against the workstation table.
Then her husband spoke, stroking her hair as the memory played. “You did. But it was what came after that really stuck with me.”
Nino’s face began growing hotter as her memory’s pitch grew higher. She wasn’t going to let anything stop her confession, not even her own stupid mouth. “Remember how I said there’s gotta be at least one girl on this planet who’d fall for a guy like you?” the memory asked.
Nino winced, remembering what came next but unable to look away.
“Well, that girl is me. Too bad for you!!”
She felt her husband’s chuckle, deep and loving, while she buried her face in his chest. “Ugggh, shut uuup. Shut up, shut up. It was the first time I ever confessed to anyone!”
“Second,” he said.
Nino rolled her eyes, looking up to glare into him, but ended up smiling. “I felt like my heart was up in my throat,” she blushed. “I hardly realized what I’d said till I got home.” Nino lifted her hand to her face, laughing freely. “I nearly suffocated myself with my pillow from embarrassment.”
He snickered, sharing a true grin with her. “It was cute,” he said, turning back to the memory. “It’s the second favorite thing anyone’s ever told me.”
Nino’s head tilted, her lips puckering questioningly, and she turned back to the memory.
It was different. They were different. Something had changed between them. They looked, Nino realized, how they looked right now.
They were sitting on the floor of his old apartment, right next to one another, with Nino wearing a playful grin as she answered his question. “Because I can sit here all night flattering you, Fuu-kun,” the memory said, lifting herself up onto her knees. She held up a hand and began counting on her fingers. “I can tell you that you’re smart, that you make me laugh, make me feel cared about and wanted, and you’re not afraid to tell me what you think. But the truth is that when I look at you, Fuutarou, I see what is mine.”
The memory paused, her hand going up to her hammering heart.
“Just like, when I look in the mirror, I see what is yours.”
Fuutarou’s hand squeezed Nino, pulled her so tight that it almost hurt, and softly said, “Mine.”
Nino breathed easily, again twisting to see up in his handsome blue eyes. “Mine,” she replied, fingers clutching his chest.
Then his arm moved and Nino looked down, seeing his hand descending to her belly. Her hand covered his, their fingers interlocking, and into her hair her husband said, “Ours.”
Nino’s face glowed, a full grin down to the lightness inside of her belly.
“Ours.”
