Kompera
patreon
Delayed, Part 4 - Male Version
🕑 Added 2022-08-21 01:59:36 +0000 UTCStory Directory: $5 Patrons
Story Directory: $10 Patrons
Story Directory: $20 Patrons
Note: This is a male version of Delayed.
Summary: A man makes web cam videos, and is paid to display his pregnancy online. The bigger he grows, the more money he makes. He even takes drugs to delay labor to maximize his income, and promises his clients that he will give birth naturally, and livestream it. People even start placing bets on the day he’ll finally give birth. The man pushes himself to his absolute limit, and finally can’t hold his babies in any longer. He makes the final arrangements and gets ready to induce himself, when suddenly, at the very last moment, an anonymous follower offers him $10,000,000 to put off his delivery for another month, and sends an advance of $1,000,000 just so he knows he’s serious. Contains: Male: pregnancy, belly expansion, breast expansion, and more.
-
"Richard, you can't do this," Peter hissed into the receiver. "Dragging me to court in my condition—"
"A condition you put yourself in and refuse to discontinue," Richard cut him off contemptuously. "So yes, it is entirely necessary. You're insane, Peter. I expect to gain full custody."
Peter reddened in fury. His belly shuddered, causing him to grunt. The two had been going at each other for a week with little progress or hope for resolution. Court seemed inevitable but Richard had the upper hand. He was a lawyer and had all the resources his firm could provide. Peter was ludicrously pregnant, had a liberal arts degree, was juggling five kids and an airheaded fiance (soon-to-be ex-fiance?), and had a dubious career of making sketchy videos in which he starred. It seemed like an easy case, open and shut. Yet Peter refused to lose to Richard and absolutely would not give full custody of his children to the other man.
Peter was starting to panic. "What do you want from me?" he groaned as he slumped in his desk chair, even though the arms were beginning to dig uncomfortably into either side of his massive abdomen.
Richard gave a sigh of disbelief. "Are you kidding? I want you to stop this nonsense. Deliver the babies. Now. Today. I—I'll be there with you, if you want. And shut down that disgusting channel."
Peter could hear the resentment in Richard’s words. Richard had never liked the idea of other men laying eyes on Peter, especially during the pregnancies. He'd always wanted Peter all to himself.
But ending the pregnancy wasn't an option for Peter, nor was shutting down the website. Both were conditional to the additional nine million dollars he had been offered. "Why can't you just mind your fucking business?" Peter snapped.
"This ismy business. You made it my business!"
Peter hung up the phone, his swollen abdomen throbbing up and down with his heavy panting. He smoothed his hands over the maternity tank top he had purchased a month ago. Of course that meant that now it didn't fit. It hugged against his mound while leaving the bottom half of the mass exposed.
Peter was also wearing a pair of briefs that were too-tight, the spandex pulled taut by several inches of recent fat accumulation in his hips and ass, the latter now round and plump, bulging out behind him.
Brad poked his head into his office, one of the kids hanging from his neck. "Is everything alright?" he said. "I heard yelling."
Peter sighed. "It's fine R—Brad."
Brad didn't seem to notice the falter. "I'm trying to get Sid and Katie in the bath, do you mind—?"
"Yeah, okay." Peter rubbed his face on his hand.
Brad nodded and left.
The two hadn't made up from their fight the previous day. There was an uncharacteristic stiffness to Brad, and Peter was certain the argument would spring back up at any moment, especially with the extreme state of Peter’s belly, and the way it fell into these episodes of quakes and shudders at random moments, his abdominal muscles spasming in desperation to extricate the creatures that had overstayed their welcome.
Peter sighed. He was being weighed down by relationship problems when he was already being weighed down by his own swollen body. He eased himself into some sweatpants then turned his focus for the moment to the main issue at hand—getting up. Peter pressed his hands firmly against the arms of his chair. He braced himself, tensed his body, and put all his energy into his legs. He pushed himself forward with a roar.
It took three attempts, which was an improvement, he thought.
"Hahhhh...hooo..." he panted, waiting to adjust and ensure he was balanced. He was two weeks into the arrangement, and four weeks overdue—with triplets. He was objectively huge, his belly wider than the rest of him, and jutting out before him like a small bolder. It preceded him to such a degree that he often bumped it into things. His belly was the first thing anyone saw when he entered a room, the rest of him following, straining and overwhelmed.
Only two more weeks, Peter reminded himself as his breaths lengthened and he rubbed his hands into his sides. He hesitated and tried to encircle the mound with his arms, acknowledging what he had long suspected—his fingers weren't anywhere near meeting. He was huge and so were the babies. He wasn't sure how he was going to give birth in two weeks. He honestly tried not to think about it too much.
Lightly shaking his head, Peter directed his attention to the door. He gingerly stepped forward, falling into the waddle that had become of his stride. It seemed to take forever for him to cross a few feet, belly heaving uncomfortably, breasts rocking. He finally made his way through the door to the unwelcome sight of his living room strewn with toys, children’s books, and crayons.
Brad was impatiently waiting by the entrance to the hall, a writhing twin on each of his hips.
"I've got this," Peter breathed even though he wasn't too sure about that. He waved vaguely at the other three kids presently wriggling about the room, exacerbating the mess. "Go ahead."
Brad nodded and headed to the bathroom to get the twins washed up. Peter was immediately tugged at and prodded, a chorus of, "Mommymommymommy..." ringing through his ears. His body felt like it could just pitch forward. He made his way towards the couch.
This was a lot to handle for two people, let alone one. The thought of Brad leaving him left a sizable lump in his throat.
-
Brad had work. Peter insisted on going to court by himself regardless. There was just too much of his personal life that would be out in the open—secrets that he needed to disclose to Brad in private. When he was ready. He could barely fit his body in the back of the cab. It was mortifying and uncomfortable. The driver had to fold the front passenger seat forward entirely, and couldn't help gawking at Peter’s gigantic belly through the rearview mirror, his eyes darting around as though he thought this was some joke.
Peter was red, sweaty, and straining. His body was under unbelievable pressure. Every bump in the road made his belly jerk forcefully and he felt like he could hardly contain it all, between the twists in the road and tremors of the car. His eyes were squeezed shut, tears rolling down his cheeks as he puffed his breaths out in forceful huffs. His groin felt tense and heavy, and he almost feared that babies might just start poppingout of him. Finally, the car stopped. Peter gave a wet sniff as he looked up at the courthouse. It took him a moment before he was willing to move.
He lumbered inside. Predictably, there were stares. Lawyers, judges, and clerks paused mid-conversation just to gawk at his tremendously swollen body stuffed into a straining button-down and some sweatpants.
What followed was an endless process of procedures, paperwork, and appearances. All of this proved arduous in Peter's advanced condition. He was utterly exhausted by the time of his hearing.
The questioning process was mortifying. He tried to be as vague as possible about his condition and his income, but the judge demanded specificity. Peter was redundant in his iterations that he was carrying triplets, as though merely that could explain how massive he was. The looks he received ranged from shocked, to concerned, and disgusted, and he was getting dizzy. It wasn't long until even Richard was looking a little uneasy. Peter heard the judge asking if he was alright, but the words were muffled and his throat was dry. He tried to respond but his lips could produce no words, only rasps and whispers.
And suddenly he was being ushered off in a wheelchair and he wasn't sure what had occurred. He tensed at the thought of being brought to the hospital but he was merely rolled to the taxi stand outside. There was talk of his case getting a continuation date yet Peter couldn't imagine having to come back here and do this all over again. His belly gave another forceful heave in his lap.
-
"That was quite the performance you put on at court," said Richard the following afternoon when he came by to pick up the kids.
Peter had just started recording a video when Richard decided to show up two hours late, probably just to be antagonistic. To make things more inconvenient, three of the kids had fallen asleep while waiting. The other two were in the living room, glued to the TV set.
"Right," said Peter rolling his eyes, because he didn't have the energy to argue with him. If Richard had it his way, all they would do was argue. "Glad you let yourself in," he added sarcastically.
"The door was unlocked."
"Great!" Peter snapped, somehow managing to haul himself up from his desk chair in only one attempt. He gasped for breath and wobbled somewhat. He neglected to turn off the live feed but this would be over quick. "All their stuff is packed in the duffle bags on the couch. Their snacks are in the fridge. I'm sure you can handle things from there." While one hand gripped the desk, the other absently slid to the underside of his orb.
Richard just gave a nasty smile as he eyed Peter up and down. "Look at you. You can barely even move. You looked ridiculous at court. Like a science experiment gone wrong.
Peter's face burned. "Like you're not into it," he managed breathlessly, glaring hatefully. "What are you still doing here?"
Richard pressed his lips but didn't respond, he just glared at Peter some more. Peter released a quiet groan. His back was almost painfully tense, his belly so heavy on his hips he just wanted to collapse. But he refused to let Richard see how exhausted he was. "So," he reiterated through gritted teeth. "Why are you just standing there? What the hell do want?"
Richard approached, fast and purposefully, then suddenly they were touching, holding, kissing each other. Peter released a short gasp before Richard caught his lips again.
Richard turned Peter around in strong arms, more firm and sure than Brad’s. The familiarity left Peter shaking. Now Richard was pressed behind him, and they were truly connected without his gargantuan belly dividing them. Richard’s hands rubbed firmly into Peter’s huge mass, before finding their way up to Peter’s breasts, causing Peter to gasp again as his ex-husband cupped them and gave a gentle squeeze.
Each of Peter’s breasts were the size of honeydews by then, large nipples burning, aching for release.
But then Richard moved on again, hands gliding to Peter’s hips. Peter could feel his Richard’s erection against his ass. "Please," Peter pleaded.
Richard pushed him against the desk, so his belly was pressing into it, causing Peter to yelp, but it also helped take some of the weight off his back. The babies writhed as his massive belly perched on the desktop, shoving his laptop aside, knocking down the mouse. His belly shelved his tingling breasts, heaving them higher, where they were nearly pressed his chin. Peter trembled as Richard pulled down Peter’s shorts then slid off his boxers. Peter was more aroused than he had been in ages. Probably since he had gotten knocked up with the triplets in the first place.
"Richard," he breathed; pleaded.
And they submitted to each other, as both always knew they would.
-
Peter didn't notice the feedback until the following day.
That was insanly hot.
Do more of those.
R u getting into porn? I not complain.
Was like he was fcking more babies into you.
Bloody insane.
I still cnt beleive how big u are.
Fuck, Peter thought as he closed his laptop. He had forgotten to turn off his webcam. He wasn't running a porn site, but he seemed to be trending towards explicit content in recent weeks. The last thing he needed was for his page to be pulled from search engine results.
Worse, there was now documented evidence of his cheating on Brad that would likely circulate the more sordid side of the internet. He had to make sure that it never crossed Brad’s path…though there was no way to ensure that it wouldn't. Maybe it was finally time to come clean.
