The Tale of Mpreg Pinocchio Pt. 02

I only let myself catch my breath for another moment before it felt too uncomfortable not to respond. "H-hey, honey!" I stammered. "Home for lunch?" Small talk: yes, that'd do for the moment.

"Yep, just here for 20 or so. Wanted to grab a bite. How's your day so far?" Her nonchalance made objective sense but struck me as the oddest thing in the world given my current predicament.

"I..." My attempt at a reply failed instantly. I realized I had no clothes in the bathroom with me, having had neither the foresight nor the time to plan for my exit back into the rest of the apartment. She'd only be in the apartment for 20 minutes: I could stall, fake gastrointestinal distress and buy myself more time to plan for the inevitable reveal when she later returned from work for the evening. That'd lead to a very stressful second half of the day as I waited for her, though, which didn't sound like the most pleasant option. I decided I'd rip the band-aid off: just open the door, reveal my nude and unmistakably pregnant body to her in one fluid motion Just fucking do it...okay...3...2...1...

I took a deep breath and smoothly pulled the door open, not even attempting to hide any of my fully expectant glory from my wife. She wasn't facing the bathroom door for my entrance: I cleared my throat and she turned toward me. Her eyes widened dramatically, jaw slackened. The piece of wheat bread in her right hand slowly escaped her grasp and fell to the floor. "Wh..." She shook her head and blinked her eyes rapidly. "I..." The fact that she couldn't form more than one sound at a time was totally understandable.

"Yeah," I managed. "I don't know...what's going on..."

Moving cautiously and haltingly, zombie-like, she approached and placed both hands on my new belly. "How?" she finally got out, her eyes glued to my bump.

I shook my head and laughed confusedly. "I truly don't know. I...fell asleep with the prosthetic on last night. Accidentally."

"Yeah, I saw," she whispered.

I shrugged. "I woke up, like, two hours ago, and...this. It's...real, I guess?"

She gasped and withdrew both hands. "I felt something move!" She finally met my eyes, unblinkingly and with a bit of accusation in her expression. "How?" she repeated. "This is impossible. This...what the fuck is going on, Darren?"

"I don't know, sweetheart. It feels...it feels like I'm really...pregnant. I guess I'm pregnant, Sarah..."

She shook her head and placed both hands on the underside of my belly, lifting up its weightiness as she stared down at it again. "That's not a thing. You're...no, you're not a woman, you're not pregnant. And this wasn't here yesterday. It's...I don't understand." How could she possibly understand? I sure as hell didn't. There were an infinite number of questions to ask. "Shit, I'm supposed to go back to work in a few minutes," she said suddenly as she took out her phone and pressed a few buttons. She put the phone up to her ear: "Hey, Sean. Yeah, I'm...sick. Out....Diarrhea." She put the phone down. "I need to sit down." I followed her to the living room and sat down next to her on the couch.

"I really don't know what to do here, Sarah," I admitted as I took her hand in both of mine.

"Yeah," she muttered. "I don't either. You're...pregnant...and a man. I don't think anyone knows what to do here." She giggled a little bit. I joined her. It erupted further, both of us cackling for 15 or 20 seconds. We finally settled; she placed both hands on me again, searching around and pressing inward curiously. "How do you feel?"

Good question. I hadn't considered this all that closely yet, at least not much beyond how much my new physical features had turned me on just before Sarah came home for lunch. "I...I'm great?"

She looked appropriately puzzled. "You're 'great'? Really? How are you not freaking out right now?"

I chuckled. "Oh, I'm very much freaking out." I looked down at my big hairy belly, fondly holding it in both hands as it completely eclipsed my genitals. "But I love it. I really...love it. There are all sorts of implications to discuss, obviously. This clearly wasn't part of the plan, especially when it looks like this thing'll come out of me in about three days. I'm sure I should probably see a doctor as soon as possible, for Christ's sake. But...I'm kinda...thrilled?"

Both her and my eyes had been shifting frequently between making meaningful eye contact with each other and taking in this miraculous baby belly of mine. As I finished talking, she was focused intently on the bump...and just a bit lower than the bump. One of her hands still rubbing the front of my belly, the other started rubbing my crotch. "Hey," I muttered, already fully-hard with the initial contact made by her fingers.

"Heyyy," she responded slowly, her voice sultry. Her massages turned to gropes, both of my belly and genitalia. She leaned in; we started making out. For a moment, she paused her groping and pulled her mouth apart from mine: "You'll tell me if any of this is uncomfortable, right?"

"Yeah, it's fine, I'll tell you." I rushed back into kissing her, my hands now finding her tits and thighs.

"No, just let me touch you," she managed while only partially disengaging from our making out. "Let me explore. You've got me going a bit, for whatever reason. I'll just check you out for a minute, if that's all right." That was fine with me: this dynamic sounded pretty hot. I held my arms tightly against the sides of my thighs, trying to avoid the natural heat-of-the-moment impulse to start touching my wife while allowing her total access to my suddenly-changed physique. She seemed to be enjoying me very much, just as I was enjoying being so thoroughly and enthusiastically explored. Each and every inch of my bloated midsection was rubbed both gently and firmly: she seemed to be creating a comprehensive mental topography of my bump as she went. And that was just with her right hand, of course, as the clenched fingers of her left continuously and steadily pumped up and down over my erection. Two minutes in, I moaned as I felt climax approach. "Wait," she said abruptly upon hearing my vocalization. "I'm not done yet." So hot to have the motions of my hands and now the process of orgasm dictated to me! I slowed my breathing and relaxed my muscles as much as I could, trying my best to hold off for as long as possible. She slowed the pumps of her hand and loosened the grip of her fingers, kindly helping me continue to retain my load.

Suddenly she stood off the couch and pulled down her pants and panties in one fluid motion. "Get up, finish inside me," she commanded. "I need your hot pregnant cum right in my cunt." Filthier than usual; I loved it. I got to my feet clumsily but eagerly as she bent over in front of me, resting her elbows on the back of the recliner. I hesitated for a moment and she guessed the issue. "Can you get it in with your big belly?" she asked, curious but still managing to keep up her sexy tone.

"Yeah, just a second..." I struggled, unable to get all that close to her ass with my hugely protruding gut unavoidably getting in the way. I was able to lift the sizable bump up and out of the way with my left hand and forearm, carefully guiding my cock into her wetly waiting pussy with my right hand. Once comfortably ensconced, I gently placed the bottom of the belly down on her ass cheeks. She groaned: maybe at my dick entering her, maybe at the weighty feel of my belly resting on her ass, maybe at both. Feeling like I had to keep the stomach balanced on her, I was too cautious to fuck as hard as I usually would have. Going more slowly let me last more than three pumps, though, which was a nice perk: I was able to last exactly four pumps, in fact.

"Oh, baby," she moaned loudly as I start buckling with the full-body spasms of cumming. "Give me your pregnant seed. Shoot in me, Darren." She wasn't the most practiced at dirty talk, but I did appreciate the attempt. My thrusts sped up and became jerky, the intense sensations robbing me of control. I'm not sure if you or anyone else in human history knows this, but I was now discovering that ejaculating as a full-term pregnant gentleman was a truly spectacular affair. Whatever hormones and whatnot had been loosed in my unsuspecting body overnight were creating feelings I had not experienced before. Maybe it sort of split the difference between male and female orgasms? Didn't seem out of the question, as that wouldn't nearly qualify as the most androgynous thing going on in my body at the moment. I kept humping well past when the load was entirely out of me, raggedly moving in and out of my wife as I felt the cum backing up and trickling down the shaft and right to the base of my cock. The audio became wetter and louder as I continued; Sarah's moans increased in volume right along with the sloppy soundtrack I was laying down. Finally, I was hit with a wave of fatigue a minute or so after I was materially spent. Waves of fatigue, I quickly realized, were probably another (and slightly less enjoyable) pregnancy side effect I'd have to look forward to.

I exited my wife's pussy, dripping flecks of cum onto my thighs as I flopped back onto the couch holding my belly in both hands. She pulled her pants back up and sat next to me. "Okay, yeah. It's settled: I'm into this, too." She smiled warmly at me. We enjoyed a nice moment as we caught our collective breath. She looked a bit concerned, placing a hand on my shoulder and rubbing vigorously. "Are you cold, sweetie? You've been naked since before I got home..."

I had to consider for a moment. "No, I guess I'm not. Preggos overheat a lot, right? I haven't really thought about it, but I guess I've been pretty comfortable."

"Neat." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Maybe we'll save on heating costs?" We both laughed. She leaned over and rested her head on the bump. "Wow," she muttered. "I can even hear it moving in there!" Silence for half a minute or so. "So...we're really having a baby, huh?"

I'd been trying fairly hard to keep that most-serious of pregnancy consequences out of my head for the past few hours, but it was something we'd inevitably have to face. "Well...yeah. Yeah, I guess we are. I mean, assuming this isn't whole incident isn't going to resolve itself once the gas leak is fixed..."

"I guess we have to go the doctor, don't we?" She ignored my joke about hallucinations, which was fine: maybe this wasn't the moment for my usual attempts at levity.

"Probably. I have no idea what to do. I mean, of course I don't. We didn't even really want this for you, how the hell could we have planned anything about it for me? Last night I thought this was impossible..."

She pulled her head up and made intense eye contact. "But you always kinda wanted it for yourself, right?"

I couldn't help but blush, despite the fact that I'd unembarrassedly been hanging out with my wife for a while now as a nude, hirsute, ultra-pregnant man. "Yeah, there's the fetish," I admitted quietly. "It was always a fantasy, but just a fantasy. I mean, I obviously never thought it could be anything more than that. And we didn't really want to be parents..."

"I'm kinda excited now that I'm realizing it's going to happen," she blurted loudly, words quickly flowing off her tongue as she rushed to get the difficult thought out.

I paused, taken aback. "Really? You want to be a parent? Just like that?"

"Yes, just like that. I don't know, it just...happened." She hit my tummy with an audible but not-at-all painful slap. "Like this just happened!" She giggled. "Honestly, the thing you're surprised by is I changed my mind about wanting a kid? The universe just changed its mind about who can carry a child. You're far more surprising than I am, sweetheart."

Decent enough point. "I suppose that's correct, sure."

One of her hands stayed where it had been glued to my belly, the other drifted back down and cupped the entirety of my cock and balls. "You're pretty horny about all this, right?" Her look was teasing but not unkind.

I hesitated, but saw no real point in denying this obvious fact. "Yes, I'm horny about this. My first move once I saw myself in the mirror was jerking off, to be completely honest."

She chuckled and nodded. "That totally scans. Were you scared? Were you going to call me?"

I considered. "Not quite scared, I guess. Surprised and confused, more. And I didn't think of calling you before you got home. I was too lost in masturbation and blissed-out post-orgasm reverie. It was really nice. Panicked when I heard your key, though."

"Yeah, I bet. If I was a perverted man who woke up 8 months pregnant, I'd jerk off then panic when my wife got home for lunch, too." We both cracked up. This was quite a situation we'd found ourselves in. It was good to laugh. Fucking had been good, too. I couldn't help but wonder about the more practical aspects of our quandary though. Such thoughts continued to intrude.

"So...we have to get me to a doctor, right? An OB/GYN, I guess? PCP? Mad scientist? What's appropriate in this situation, you think?"

"The medical school," she said immediately. "Right in town. A professor. A researcher! Right?!"

I had to admit it seemed to be the best option. "Yes, a researcher. Who deals with pregnancy, presumably?"

"Yes, definitely. I saw a tweet recently that was a joke, but now seems surprisingly relevant. It's not at all hard to contact academics, apparently. Like, this person was saying they'd send stupid questions to the addresses listed at the bottom of published papers, and they were shocked that these people would actually respond. Not many people reach out to them, maybe? Grab the laptop, lets see who publishes over there..."

Sarah had been an excellent writer in school, and her well-honed research skills suddenly proved incredibly handy in adult life. She very quickly found a faculty list for the obstetrics/gynecology department, zeroing in on the most senior-seeming folks who'd recently had articles released. Now, we couldn't expect to find anyone writing about male pregnancy, of course: we'd have to settle for publications on any old gestation-related topic. Younger writers would be preferable, Sarah mused, as it was too easy to freak out older people. Kinda ageist, but a decent enough way to view things in the absence of any sort of common-sense guidance.

"Katherine Saperstein." It was a statement, not a suggestion. She found an email address, copied it and slapped it into an email draft. "This...might be a difficult message to write. Any thoughts?"

"Just tell her what happened," I replied. "Admit it sounds crazy: we think it's crazy, too. Tell her the chain of events as we understand them, that we don't expect her to believe us, but if we could stop by her office ASAP, maybe she'd at the very least enjoy meeting a few harmlessly crazy people with too much time on their hands? Or, maybe she'd like a shot at being the scientist with the first glimpse at a pregnant male? Just try to convince her we're not dangerous, I guess. Not a productive start if we immediately freak her out."

Sarah typed quickly as I read over her shoulder. It was a solid email, carefully walking the very difficult line between trying to intrigue and trying not to scare. She hit send. We waited.

To be continued...