Dadbod

Note on content: another trans guy gets pregnant in this one, and doesn't find out about it until way too late. Mostly vanilla sex between trans M/trans F and trans M/cis F. Health anxiety about female-specific problems. Lots of talk about his belly. Neutral words for his junk.

**

Around the time I turned thirty I started getting a serious dadbod. It made sense at first. I was working long hours since the store manager quit, and eating crappy mall food three, sometimes four meals a day. Under those conditions, anyone would expect to have some belly bloat going on.

It took months for me to connect it to the night I'd spent with my friend Chloe.

Maybe if I'd still had tits or a monthly cycle I would have figured it out sooner. But, I didn't.

So.

I didn't.

**

I kind of figured, being so out of shape, it wasn't a good time to meet anyone new, but I did. I still went to the dyke bars sometimes with my friends, and I was ordering a Coke at the bar because it was my turn to drive when this chick sidled up to me. She was tiny. I have decent height for a guy like me--almost 5'7"--and I'm solidly built, with a lot of mass in my shoulders and arms from when I used to have time to go to the gym, but I'm not used to towering over someone like I towered over her.

It got my attention.

"Excuse me. Can I ask you kind of a rude question?"

"Shoot," I said.

"Um, ok. So, are you AFAB? Because you're hot as hell, but I only date butches and AFAB guys. No cis men."

Yeah. I was AFAB, and I told her that.

I bought her silly girly drinks for the rest of the night, and she hung onto my arm and rubbed my chest and told me how soft my flannel shirt felt, and we danced a little. I don't really dance, just do that weird punch move like your average suburban dad, but it was still fun, and she pressed her body up against me on the slow songs.

She was smol and round and curly and curvy and adorable and perfect.

She petted my beard.

She let me put my hand in the small of her back and slip it down to the start of her astonishing ass, run my fingertips under the waistband of her jeans.

I told my friends to Venmo me for the cost of the Uber they'd have to take home and I'd pay it and we bounced.

I have a roommate, but he was out for the night. Grindr date. So we had the place to ourselves. I scrambled up some eggs and made toast and coffee for a midnight breakfast because I was starving and she needed to sober up some, and we took everything to my room and climbed into bed with it.

We ate, and fed each other bites of buttered toast, and smooched in between bites. Pretty soon we were out of our clothes, me in my boxer briefs and her in her bra and panties. Her bra was the fancy kind, with a lot of lace on the cups, but her panties were plain white cotton and kind of high in the waist and full in the seat. For a lot of girls, that means they weren't planning to go home with anyone.

"Are you sure you're ok with this?" I asked.

"With what?"

"With this." I set our plates aside and pulled her into my arms. "And this." I kissed her. "And also this." My lips left her mouth and began to find their way down the side of her throat, where the big veins lie, and then down to her clavicle.

"I'm very ok with that," she told me. "But you'd better keep moving south, just to be sure."

I moved south. She had polite little boobs, pert and bouncy once I'd freed them from the bra, and her belly was soft and cushiony.

"My tummy's so fat," she said. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

I kissed it and stroked it with the flat of my hand. "It's cute," I told her. "Have you not seen mine?"

"You," she said, "are a big strong man and you can carry a little bit of weight. It's all right for a man to have a belly. I just look... pregnant. Which is a very niche preference."

My preference, as it turned out.

"I bet you'd be cute pregnant," I said. "Want to find out?" This was risky. Some girls would take offense to that, and some girls would be turned off entirely. The reality of being a female in a pro-life state, you know? Sometimes fear is hot, and sometimes fear is just... fear.

I held my breath, waiting for her response.

"They'll say I'm such a bad girl," she breathed. "But I don't know how it could have been bad, when it made both of us feel so good." And she gave a whole-body wiggle.

I kissed my way downward, crazy aroused. There's nothing that gets me going like the idea of leaving a little scrap of myself deep inside some girl.

Swelling her body.

Marking her as mine.

My breath came heavier as I lowered my head and kissed and bit her inner thighs.

She gasped and arched her back.

"I bet," I said, "in addition to being the kind of pregnant lady who is extremely cute, you'll be the kind who is extremely horny, literally all of the time."

"What do you know about different kinds of pregnant ladies? Just how much personal experience do you have, mister?"

My stepsister had gotten pregnant her senior year of high school. I'd had a desperate crush on her, and that whole year had been... enlightening.

But I didn't tell her that.

"Oh," I said. "I don't have much, really."

"That sounds like a big fib to me. I bet you're the kind of guy who goes spreading your seed just everywhere. Leaving all the girls with swollen tummies." She pressed her hands to her round little belly as if she wanted that to happen to her.

"Yeah, I'm that kind of guy." I hooked my fingers under the waistband of her panties and began working them down around her plump hips. Beneath the fresh cotton, she smelled divine, musky and salty, and I couldn't wait to taste her.

She lifted her bottom to help me, and when I had her undies off I saw that she hadn't shaved in a while. There was a nice little fluff of hair there, just the way I like it, and I stroked my fingers through it before I ducked my head.

Then her hands were in my hair. Gripping hard and pinning me in place.

"I want you in me, baby. I don't think I can wait."

My breath came hard. "Want me to put that baby in you, huh. Won't even let me lick a little puss before I do that, huh?"

She shook her head. "I come from fucking. So, fuck me. Later, you can lick puss if you want."

"I have to get my strap. Touch yourself while I get it. Think about how pregnant you're going to be when I get done with you."

As I rolled awkwardly out of bed and headed for the bathroom I saw her raise her pretty knees and reach a manicured hand down to her groin and begin to stroke herself. If the bathroom hadn't been more than three steps away--I pay extra for the master suite--I would have had to run.

I almost fell, getting into my harness and seating the strap-on. It was the big one. I was taking a gamble that that's what she would prefer. Girls who can come from fucking usually do.

The bed jounced when I got back in.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"What took you so long?"

"You didn't finish without me, did you?"

"Well, no, but it was a close call. Come here, handsome." She pulled me down into her embrace.

We kissed, tasting eggs and butter and coffee on each other's breath, and then I climbed between her legs, adjusted myself with my hand, and eased inside her sopping wet puss.

She gasped.

I gasped.

Her hips rose to meet mine, and I pulled back and then pressed forward again, and then my eyes closed so I could feel it better, and my pace quickened, and we fucked each other until sweat was dripping off of me and her breath came in short little pants and her nails dug into the muscles of my back and my ass and thighs strained to keep up with her and her legs locked around my waist holding me inside, inside, inside, inside.

When she shuddered and gave a funny, gasping little cry of release I let my body go limp for a moment, resting my forehead on her soft bosom, and then withdrew myself and rolled off.

"Oh no," she said when she could speak. "You forgot to wear a condom. I'm afraid you've made me pregnant."

I pressed a hand to her lower belly. "I think maybe I did. I guess I'll have to marry you, now. I guess you're mine forever."

We drowsed a while, and when we woke up near morning we went at it again, this time with her on top, her hands braced on my hairy chest as she used me for her pleasure. When she was done she rolled off of me and before she slept again, with her head on my shoulder, she slipped a hand under my harness and caressed my t-dick with her soft fingers, pinching and stroking it until I came, too.

"There," she said. "We're almost even. I still owe you one, but it'll have to wait for morning."

It did.

**

We kept seeing each other. The sex kept on being spectacular, fun and satisfying, and just a little bit weird, but we found that we found that we liked each other, too, and at some point I realized that just liking had become something a whole lot more.

She taught middle school language arts, and I was running the store I worked at as interim manager and interviewing for jobs that would get me into an office or remote work and away from all the Karens but we made time for each other almost every week.

The pregnancy thing became a sexy, silly little game between us. We didn't play it all the time, but sometimes we did, and she would hold her plump tummy the way pregnant ladies did and tell me that I was the father of her unborn child, so I had to please her in every single way she wanted me to please her, which of course I did.

Enthusiastically.

Sometimes I would tease her about what she would do when she woke up one morning too pregnant for any of her clothes. Zippers that wouldn't zip. Tops that rolled up on her like a windowshade.

"I guess if I'm too pregnant for clothes, I'll have to stay naked all day, at least until I can order something from Amazon," she told me. "What will you do with me then?"

"This," I said, and flipped her over and dived into her pussy with my mouth.

When I emerged, and caught my breath, I told her how it would be going back to work in her new maternity wear from Amazon. Tummy bulging in those high-waist panties and a dress that showed up one size too small. How the teachers would talk about her in the breakroom. How the students would talk when her back was turned in the classroom. When I was a kid, we were obsessed with our teachers' imaginary private lives, and in our fantasies about adult life we matched them up together in a shifting panoply of unlikely couplings, coaches and art teachers and the stern band conductor and the big-bellied head of the math department and even the horrifically decrepit woman who taught keyboarding and complained all the time about how it wasn't still called typing. As it had been in the Jurassic period.

"I'll be so embarrassed," she said, pretending shyness. "As an unwed mother. With a tummy the size of a watermelon and getting bigger every day. Perhaps there will be a scandal, and a meeting between the principal and some angry parents, to discuss my... flagrant immorality." She stroked my strap.

"'Flagrant immorality,'" I echoed. "Is that fancy teacher talk for being a bad girl?"

"So bad," she said. "So, so bad." And she lowered her mouth to my strap and held my gaze while she curled her lips and tongue around it.

My butt cheeks clenched and released as she sucked me, and when I closed my eyes I could almost feel it. I tried to stroke her face, but she swatted me away and refocused on her task, so I folded an arm behind my head and rested the other hand on the embarrassing fullness of my own belly. Christ, I had to do something about that. Go low carb. Intermittently fast. Start Couch to 5k. Something.

I opened my eyes when I heard a click and a buzz and felt her fingers working beneath the heavy velcro fasteners of my harness.

"Not my ass this time," I told her. "My stomach's been weird lately." I didn't want to tell her how badly I was clogged up--references to poo have no business in sexytimes.

She got the point. "I thought you were looking a little bloated. We can stop if you don't feel well. I can rub your tummy for you if you think that will help."

I didn't feel well, actually, but I also didn't want her to stop. I thought I'd want her even on my deathbed, and I let her ease the little toy inside me, filling me to the brim, while her other hand stroked my T-dick and she told me how virile I was, how potent, and I stopped thinking about my fucking innards and then I stopped thinking at all and my back arched and my body flushed warm and I came.

**

I got a new job and gave my notice and trained my replacement and escaped the Karens. Hallelujah.

Remote work. Business to business sales. And I stopped eating mall food but I didn't do intermittent fasting or take up running, either. Being at home all day meant snacks were more available than they should have been, and the idea of jogging, outside, in the daylight, with my round belly pressing out the waistband of my basketball shorts, was too embarrassing for words.

So I got fatter, mostly through the stomach. It was thanks to testosterone that I put on weight like an old man, I guess, rather than in the hips and booty like a woman. At least there was that.

My roommate got a second job as a bartender, to pay off some credit card debt he ran up for his last, feckless twink of a boyfriend, so we were rarely home and awake at the same time, but once when we crossed paths in the apartment kitchen he raised his eyebrows at how my gut swelled out over my belt and told me I was really leaning into the whole bear cub esthetic, huh.

"I guess," I said.

"It's not a bad look. The weight kind of suits you. What's your girl think about it?"

"I haven't heard any complaints." I didn't like how defensive I sounded when I said that, but it was true. I had asked her if she wanted me to cut a little weight, try to get some abs back for her, and she had looked thoughtful and maybe a little worried, and said No, she'd always thought big men were just the cutest, and to prove it she snuggled deeper into the crook of my arm and rested her hand on the roundest part of me. And after that she seemed to make a point of petting and caressing my stomach when we cuddled together or made out, maybe to reassure me, maybe because she actually liked it, I wasn't sure, maybe both.

I was thinking about that--distracted by the thought of that--when my roommate said "Hey."

He had a wicked, bitchy gleam in his eyes.

"What?"

"Just so you know, if she dumps you or you get fired and you have to go gay for pay, there's plenty of guys--do NOT ask me how I know this--but there's plenty of guys who get off on the idea of a dude looking pregnant. It's, like, a whole thing. There's porn of it and everything. So." He patted my belly and I flinched away. I don't usually like being touched by dudes. If I do anything with dudes, I have to be the one to do the touching.

"You'll have plenty of takers."

"What the fuck! Bitch."

He shrugged lean shoulders and reached into the fridge for a pre-made vegan protein shake. "Just saying."

"Just saying like a bitch."

"I may be a bitch but at least I'm not pregnant like a bitch."

"A manslut like you? Only a matter of time. Give me that ass and I'll do it to you now."

He laughed and presented his annoyingly tiny butt to me, and I gave it a good hard smack with the back of my hand and then grabbed his hips and humped him a couple of times.

"There. Satisfied? Now you've got my kid in you. Have fun in nine months. Enjoy the maternity ward."

**

And my belly got bigger.

**

My belly got even bigger, and my girl got worried. She spent a lot of time on her phone when we were together, and I'm not proud of this but once when she was in the bathroom I checked it and saw that she hadn't been chatting with some guy who wasn't me. She had been looking things up. All her recent searches were for female things like fibroids, and ovarian cysts, and all the ways your most horrible parts might decide to fuck up your life for you.

Like with cancer.

At first I thought she was thinking about her own health, and I was afraid for her, but then I realized. She was thinking about mine. About the things that might have made my belly swell the way it had.

I had the phone in my hand when she came out of the bathroom and I guess the guilty, scared look on my face told her everything.

"Oh, honey," she said. "Come here." She took the phone away from me and pulled me into her warm, soft arms. I put my head on her shoulder and inhaled the smell of her. I let her hold me like that for a while.

"So," she said at last. "How many of your original parts do you still have? I guess I never asked you that."

I took a breath. "Everything," I told her. "Except the tits, obviously. I want a hysterectomy, but insurance doesn't cover it anymore and I'll need to save up to go out of state."

"You have your uterus and your ovaries? Tubes too?"

"Jesus! Ugh. Yeah."

"Ok. Ok. So, I," she said, "am going to play nurse with you. Go in the bedroom and take off all your clothes and lie down on the bed."

I didn't have the will to resist her. I did what she told me to do, and lay back in my boxer shorts with my heavy, full, uncomfortable belly weighing down on my core. I couldn't see my feet. Deep inside I could feel my stupid, stubborn guts wrestling with the enormous salad she'd made me eat for dinner.

I lay still--there's a good boy--while she felt my forehead and read the temperature from the thermometer she popped into my mouth, and took my pulse, and lowered her head to listen to my chest.

"Your heartbeat's fast," she said.

"I'm a little... weirded out," I admitted. What I meant was that I was terrified, because I knew--and I think I had known on some level for quite a while--that there was something very wrong with me.

"Now," she told me. "I am going to examine that tummy of yours. Try to relax." She started just below my ribcage, pressing her fingers into my belly, looking for... something.

She asked me how long it had been since I'd gone Number 2 and I admitted that I didn't know. Maybe a week.

"Oh my god, honey! Why didn't you tell me? You don't have to hide it, if your stomach's acting up."

"Nobody wants to tell their girl about stuff like that. It's embarrassing."

She felt my swollen sides. I think the technical word is palpated. And she felt the... roundness of me, and the place just above my junk where my belly bulged out like a shelf. And then she rested her hands over my groin for a moment, and started to work her way back north.

Weirdly, I started to relax. Her hands were so soft and gentle, and I trusted her, even if neither one of us knew what we were doing.

Finally, she stopped and helped me sit up. She had to do that because my belly was in the way.

"In the morning," she said, "I'm going to call an urgent care and we're going to go in." Her face was deadly serious, almost grim. She took a deep breath. "If you don't agree to go with me, I'll... I'll call your brother and I'll tell him everything that's been going on with you."

That got my attention. My brother is fifteen years older than me, and when I was growing up, he was a better dad to me than our actual dad. If he thought I was sick he'd come out here to help, and I didn't want him to do that until I knew what was going on and whether it was something I could handle on my own. Also, there was the fact that he was the first person I'd told when I started to figure out that I'd be happier as a boy, and he'd never questioned that, or treated me like a little girl again after he knew, and I didn't want to remind him that I still had a belly full of female parts which were, apparently, malfunctioning on me in some horrifying way.

I rolled onto my side and curled up as far as my stomach would allow. Against my back I felt the soft press of my girl's breasts and tummy, and she reached an arm around my chest to hold me with her hand over my pounding heart.