Mpreg Story - Tumblr Posts

Jonesy had always carried the burden of a troubled past, one filled with heartache and loneliness. His childhood had been a whirlwind of neglect by his uncaring parents, and financial hardships. Growing up, he’d known emptiness and hunger all too well, often going days without a proper meal, and the constant starvation had left him with a perpetually slight frame. Things only got tougher as he grew older, and realized that he needed to make some money to get by on his own… and when he found out he was pregnant at 19 — just before he planned to finally leave his unsteady childhood home — his world was turned upside down.

The idea of becoming a father at his young age filled him with dread, fearing he would be unable to provide for his child, or form a meaningful bond with them. Years and years of being paid nothing but dust by his parents caused him to feel detached and unable to connect with others… like an outsider in his own life. his own mother and father had failed him, and he didn’t want to continue that cycle.

Haunted by the ghosts of his upbringing, Jonesy was harried by guilt and shame, convinced that he was inadequate to be a parent. He didn’t have his own place, a car to drive around, or hardly enough money to afford to take care of anyone other than himself. Determined not to repeat the history of neglect and instability, he made the difficult decision to give his baby up for adoption early on in his pregnancy. The weight of his choice hung heavy on his heart, but he convinced himself it was for the best.

As the months passed, Jonesy's belly swelled big and full with the life growing inside him. Despite his initial reservations, he found himself marveling at the miracle of pregnancy. The kicks and flutters from within brought a sense of peace and joy he had never experienced before… a newfound connection. He found solace in the idea that this little being was a part of him. As he watched his slender body grow larger, to make room for the baby, he began to appreciate the miracle of life that was unfolding within him… and it gave him the motivation to break the cycle, and make something of himself. He didn’t know how or where, but he was going to get a job, and save up for his baby.

After cashing a few paychecks, and becoming more self-sufficient, he soon realized that, despite his own hardships, he had the capacity to love and nurture a child in ways he never thought possible for himself. And with each passing day, he grew more certain that this unexpected journey was leading him to a place of joy and fulfillment he had never thought attainable. Jonesy began to let go of his fear and doubt, allowing himself to believe that, perhaps, he could turn out to be a good parent after all… and strive to be everything that his own mother and father couldn’t be for him. The love he felt for the baby growing inside him gave him hope for a future that he never dared to imagine before.

Sean sat on his bed, his hands nervously fidgeting with the edge of his shirt, pulling it down over his belly as the film crew bustled around his bedroom. Each member of the small team was busy setting up cameras and adjusting lights… all things that made Sean feel self-conscious. He had never imagined his life would take such a turn, becoming the subject of a documentary… at least, not one that was meant to shed light on the struggles of teen pregnancy, and deter his peers from being as “irresponsible” as he was. Feeling more aware of himself than he’d ever been before, his heart raced with a mix of emotions - embarrassment, confusion, but most of all, profound sorrow.

Being the only pregnant student at his school already felt like a heavy burden, with all the odd looks and gossip that followed him through the halls… but having his most intimate moments documented for all of his peers, and future high-schoolers to see was a whole new level of vulnerability. The decision to allow this intrusion into his life wasn't even his, but rather the school's attempt to shed light on the struggles and challenges of teen pregnancy. He had no choice but to go through with his principal’s vision. It was either he let the camera crew into his home, or, when the baby comes, be harshly penalized for his time out from class… and he wouldn’t be able to make up for that time.

"Okay, Sean, just act natural," the director advised him before the cameras started rolling, sitting down on his bed in an attempt to level with him. “Take us through your morning, and then we’ll drive you to school. Today’s gonna be easy, but… only if you make it easy.”

As Sean reluctantly began his morning routine, the crew and their high definition cameras followed his every move with precision. From the subtle tilt of his head as he brushed his teeth to the faint smile that flickered across his face when he felt a gentle kick from his baby, every moment was being closely captured. Despite the discomfort and invasion of his privacy, Sean understood the importance of his story being told — an unfortunate cautionary tale for others who might find themselves in similar circumstances. Once a star student, he was now reduced to nothing more than a worst case scenario come to life.

Barry laid across the couch, feeling utterly drained. Once again, morning sickness had hit him like a ton of bricks, and it seemed like there was no end in sight. From the relentless vomiting, to the uncontrollable bowels and sore muscles, his body felt like it was betraying him at every turn. His stomach churned with a queasy ache, and each small movement made him feel even worse. He couldn't believe that something as natural and par-for-the-course as morning sickness could make him so miserable… but it always did.

Rendered motionless by the discomfort, Barry could do nothing but lie on the couch… a mere shell of himself. He longed for the day when he would finally wake up without the heavy burden of morning sickness dragging him down, and have the energy to face the day with a smile on his face… and as world spun around him, he clung to the hope that this would all be over soon.

His doctor had reassured him that the worst would pass by the time he reached twenty weeks, but that milestone felt like it was a lifetime away. For now, his only solace was the cool draft in his living room, flowing over his bare feet and exposed belly, cooling his feverish sickness.

Arnold had been eagerly anticipating the night of his school's annual Mr.SuperSenior Pageant for weeks. The excitement that filled the academic hallways was palpable as the male seniors prepared to showcase their unique talents and raise money for local charities. For Arnold, this event held a special significance, as he had been diligently practicing his talent act in his bedroom for hours.

His chosen act was a funny dance routine, to the tune of "Papa Don't Preach" by his favorite pop icon, Madonna… something that should’ve come to him very naturally… however, he faced a challenge that none of his peers could relate to — he was the only pregnant guy in his entire grade… forced to carry his little brother as a surrogate for his parents, who were reaching their mid-50s.

As Arnold wiggled and twirled to the music, in front of his makeshift curtain backdrop, he couldn't help but notice how his expanding belly was making it increasingly challenging to execute the moves flawlessly.

An ex-cheerleader for his school's Spirit Squad, he was used to nailing every move with precision and grace. But now, with a heavy baby bump impeding him, his dance routine had become more of a comedic struggle than a graceful performance.

Despite his initial frustration, he understood that the essence of the Mr.SuperSenior Pageant was laced with humor — blending the elements of sophisticated pageantry with a touch of comedy. After struggling with his routine, Arnold soon came to see his pregnancy as a unique advantage that would undoubtedly add an extra layer of humor to his act. Embracing his individuality, he was eager to steal the show with his unconventional performance, one screw up at a time.

Quincy’s family hardly recognized the man that stood at their front door when he came back home from his second year of college. Having sent him away a bony, bare-skinned young man, with hardly an ounce of fat on his slender frame, they were shocked to find this… stranger… standing on their doorstep.

This new version of their son… their one and only pride and joy… had gotten a good amount of meat on his bones, covered his skin with expansive tattoos, and grown a very visible baby bump. It was clear to see that this Quincy was midway through his pregnancy… a pregnancy that he had failed to mention to any of his family members.

They knew that he’d had a very rough year, tainted by tremendous academic stress, and an awful experience at a frat party… but, had they known that they’d be met with this new, disappointing iteration of their little boy, upon his arrival home, they would’ve never let him step foot on their porch.

The promising young man that they’d proudly sent away, to a prestigious campus on the other side of the state was gone… now busy incubating a new life, instead of keeping up with his studies.

My dad’s been pregnant with my little brother for what feels like ages now. I swear, with my senior year of high school finally coming to an end, it has to have been at least a year since he and my step-mom conceived the little dude. Ever since he told me that I was going to be a big sibling — the one piece of news that I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear — he’s had this weird, overly-determined attitude… like he refuses to let his pregnancy get the better of him. I just don’t get it.

Despite the fact that he’s only nine short weeks away from giving birth, he’s still adamant about working hard — unwilling to sit down and give his body the rest that it needs. No matter how much his doctor tells him to take some time to relax everyday, and let nature take its course, he never heeds their warning. “A sitting man is a useless man.” He always says. “I’m not useless… just pregnant.”

He’s been outside all afternoon, fixing and re-installing the porch light by the front door. The man who can’t even get up from the couch without taking my hand and counting to ten… the man who needs therapeutic belly rubs, just to fall asleep comfortably… is currently up on a tall ladder, playing around with electricity… all because he refuses to swallow his pride and let my step-mom hire a professional repair guy. Here I am, watching him from the ground, making sure that he doesn’t topple over, and injure himself again. Man… look at that belly. Dad’s huge!

Jacob can hardly sit still, these days. With the sharp aches in his legs and feet growing more intense as the weeks creep by, the bloating and gas from his seemingly perpetual morning sickness constantly kicking his ass, and his bladder on the verge of bursting open, waiting a mere four hours to board the plane for his cross-country flight is like literal torture.

This year’s Spring Break couldn’t have come at a worse time for Jacob — or, rather, his unplanned pregnancy couldn’t be any more inconvenient than it is right now. Here he is, waiting to fly home to his parents’ house, to kick off the two greatest weeks of April — when he should be living it up with his hometown buddies — and he’s too busy suffering through a surprisingly difficult pregnancy… a pregnancy that his parents are completely clueless about… to even come up with any Spring Break plans.

His meaty feet and toes airing out in the cool downdraft, for all of the other airport guests to see, and his hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatshirt, desperately trying to ease away the pain in his abdomen, Jacob’s already having an awful time. He has no idea how he’s going to explain this “mystery sickness” to his prying folks… or how much longer he can put off going to the nearest toilet. All he knows is that he’s got a mere four hours left to get himself together, and ready to go… and that, in itself, is stressful enough.

Ted’s always loved the way that his navel piercing looks, nestled nicely inside the rim of his shallow belly-hole. The extra pizazz and flare that it gives him is practically unparalleled. No matter where he goes, or what he’s doing, if he happens to be shirtless, all of the guys are staring at it. His bellybutton is so special… so shiny.

It was his navel piercing that got him pregnant in the first place. That faithful night, out on the beach. The handsome, nameless stranger, who couldn’t keep their hands, their nose, or their tongue away from the silver ring. They loved the way that it smelled when they sniffed it… a “wonderful stink,” they said it had. They enjoyed licking it, and flicking their tongue against the tender, sensitive flesh of Ted’s filthy navel. They had fun, tugging at the skin-safe steel bar for what seemed like a blissful eternity, and making it turn red with irritation. Oh, how sweet and new the sensation was.

That night was surely the night that Ted got knocked up… all thanks to his gorgeous navel ring.

As his belly continues to change and grow, Ted dreads the faithful day when his belly will be too big, and the skin around his navel too tight, to safely hold his piercing in place any longer. Soon, he’ll have to remove it, and clean the filth from the empty hole. No more strange tongues licking at it, for a quick taste. No more unfamiliar noses giving it a sniff, to revel in its unique stench. No more sticky fingers, pulling the metal bar out of pace. No more… being special.

It’s such a mind-fuck, seeing Rod’s dad — Mr.Smith — all big and pregnant. That man’s been like a second father to me, pretty much my whole life. I mean, I still remember the days when he’d pick me up from elementary school, and drop me off at my house. He watched me grow up.

All these years of me being best friends with his son, hanging around at their house… and, after the better part of a decade, I never would’ve thought that I’d ever see Mr.Smith pregnant.

Seems like just yesterday when he caught me sneaking back into Rod’s bedroom, after I’d given myself that pre-performance pep talk in the guest bathroom. It was the middle of the night, and Rod and I thought that everyone in the house was asleep. That’s what we were counting on.

His older sister had finally turned off her Bluetooth speaker, his parents were in their room, and his brother was away for the night. Everyone was where they needed to be, and Rod and I were about to… you know… do what all guy friends do, at some point or another. We assumed that we were in the clear — ready to try things out, for the very first time — but we were so wrong.

Little did I know that his dad was coming down the hall, on the way to take his mid-night pee. The one time that Me.Smith ever spotted me in the hallway at night — looking shady in my plaid underpants — and I was fully erect, holding a long sleeve of condoms in my hands. That was just my luck.

I still remember the look in his eyes when he dragged me by my ear into the den, and accused me of having ill intentions with with Rod. His pupils were almost glowing with anger as he whisper-scolded me. Rod’s dad told me that it was normal for guys our age to explore each other’s bodies, and that, whatever I was planning on doing to his son, I was going to have to do it to him first… without using a condom.

I don’t think I’ve never been more afraid in my life, than I was then. There I was, bending Mr.Smith over the back of the couch, and pushing his filthy tightly-whitey’s down to his thighs, all while trying avoid making too much noise. I guess he thought that it’d teach me a lesson… that topping him would get my dick to shrivel up and become a limp, useless flap of meat… but, he couldn’t have been more wrong. I mean, it was weird, dominating the only man in my life — other than my father — who’d ever taken me out for ice cream after my little league baseball games… but I was too scared to question how I felt about it.

Seeing the state of Mr.Smith now, I don’t know what’s worse — the fact that Rod’s about to have an unwanted sibling soon, after being the youngest child for eighteen years… or the fact that we’re dating now, and he has no clue that I’m the one who got his dad knocked up in the first place. Hopefully, the baby doesn’t look too much like me.

My Uncle Jerry and his husband have been together for almost fifteen years, and they still love each other as much as they did when they first met. Whenever they’re together, they’re like two infatuated teenagers. To put it bluntly, my uncles have a bit of a PDA problem… and, sometimes, it’s so goo-goo insane that the rest of my family doesn’t even want to be around them.

Like, this summer, when we all took a week-long trip down to Myrtle Beach, to celebrate my uncles’ shocking pregnancy announcement. Me, my mom, my dad, his parents, Uncle Jerry, Jerry’s husband, and their unborn baby — who they insisted that we include as another member of the vacation.

One day, we were all relaxing at the beach… just soaking up the sun, and enjoying the cool oceanfront breeze. Mom was tanning, dad was tossing a frisbee with grandpa, nana was napping in her foldable chair, I was scrolling through Instagram… and Uncle Jerry and his husband were laying in the sand, caught up in their little love-fest. They were kissing, and cooing at one another, and making dirty jokes… which was all fine and dandy… but then, they took things a little too far, for the rest of us.

I’m just scrolling… liking the photos that my friends all posted on their pages… when, all of a sudden, I hear my Uncle Jerry moan. It wasn’t just any moan, either. Not the jokey-playful kind. I mean, he sounded like he was having a good time. I look over, to find out what’s going on, and all I see is Jerry’s husband going tongue-deep into his belly button, flicking it around and slurping up his spit. They were making so much noise… with all the spitting, squeaking, smacking, sucking, popping, and squelching. They weren’t even trying to be discreet. It was disgusting… but they were really into it.

Like I said, sometimes, they’re just a couple of gross teenagers.

Anyway, I thought they would stop once they saw that the whole family — and even a few random strangers — was giving them funny looks… but they didn’t. My uncle held full eye contact with me, moaning like a ghost as his husband ate his belly button out. It made my skin crawl!

That was the very last time I ever joined them on a vacation… and, even once their son is born, I’m won’t be going away with them any time soon. PDA is one thing… but that, that was full-on exhibitionism.

Jeremy knows that I have a crush on him. He’s got to… because he’s always pushing my buttons!

Being the only pregnant kid in our English class, he gets a lot of special attention — from our teacher and our classmates. It’s like everyone’s eyes are always on him, making sure that he’s okay… and not sick, or having contractions, or anything… and that means that everyone’s eyes are on me too.

It’s not easy, having to sit beside him every day. It’s almost like sitting in the emergency exit seat on an airplane, because… on the off chance that anything were to happen… everyone expects me to hop out of my chair and come to his rescue. If that’s not bad enough, I’ve had a crush on him since we were in the eighth grade… and, every time I’m around him, I can just feel myself choking.

There’s something about him being pregnant… that huge belly of his… that makes my awkwardness even worse. I don’t know if I’m into it, or if it scares me. Sometimes I want to touch it… kiss all over it… and, other times, I just wish it would disappear.

He must’ve picked up on my nervousness, sometime recently, because he’s been giving me these… strange looks… and making suggestive gestures toward me. Today, Jeremy even exposed his belly to me, and invited me to give it a rub. Maybe it’s just my vibe. Maybe he’s just mega hormonal, and I’m the closest guy around. All I know is, every time he looks at me, I feel like I could just melt away. I think I’m going crazy!

Nobody in the family was supposed to know about Kyle’s baby… and, up until tonight’s dinner party, nobody knew.

For months, he’d been keeping his pregnancy a secret. After getting knocked up by his pervert of a wrestling coach… a man that his father absolutely detests… Kyle, his mother, and his older sister all came to the decision that it would be best for everyone on his father’s side of the family to be kept in the dark, until it was too late to deny it any longer. Thankfully, Kyle was always a skinny guy, with a bit of a turtle-shell tummy, naturally… so, they all assumed that nobody would suspect anything out of the ordinary. They could simply excuse his sickness, or his moodiness, or any other symptoms that he may have as “college stress.” No one would question that.

For nearly 28 weeks, he was able to keep up the charade — hiding his growths and managing his symptoms to the best of his ability, with the help of both his mother and his sister — but tonight, after eating more food than anyone has ever seen him eat before, getting super nauseous, and growing too large for his sweatshirt, there are a few curious eyes on him.

He’s never looked more pregnant than he does right now… not even when he’s standing naked in front of a mirror… and only a fool would believe him if he said he wasn’t pregnant now. After tonight’s dinner, he’s got a lot of explaining to do to his father, and his entire side of the family. They’ll be expecting a new addition soon.

Zach never would’ve guessed, in a million years, that pregnancy would make him so damn gassy. In all his years of hearing the whole “Birds, Bees, and Babies” talk, nobody ever warned him about the gastric side of it all… but, if he’d known that he’d be able to clear an entire room with a single fart, he would’ve thought twice before going out and getting himself knocked up with twins.

Before the babies, Zach was never a particularly gassy guy. He’d burp quite often, and fart every now and then… but his flatulence was nothing to write home about. It wasn’t very loud, or smelly, or noteworthy at all.

His guy friends could all burp the entire alphabet, fart on command, and compete in gas-offs, but he was never able to keep up with any of them. Even at the smelliest of times, he was somewhat nose-blind to the odor of his own brand. That old saying “whoever smelt it, dealt it” couldn’t have been further from reality, for him.

These days, though, with all of the strange foods that he eats, he even makes himself sick, with some of the stenches that come out of him. They always take him by surprise. Nobody ever told him just how awful they could be during pregnancy… but, now that he’s struck big and got a two for the price of one deal on babies, he’s learning that the hard way.

Ever since I’ve known him, Mason has wanted to travel abroad to France, and reconnect with his family’s roots. His great-grandfather on his mother’s side was born in Lyon, and immigrated to America when he was in his late 30s, to be with his great-grandmother. Knowing that part of his family’s history, Mason’s always felt this… urge… to visit his maternal nation of origin.

For years, we’ve been putting together a trip… planning all of the ins and outs in great detail. We researched so much of Lyon’s history, found a few museums to visit, took note of some cool tourist attractions, located his great-grandpa’s childhood home, and even connected with a few of his distant relatives in France. Every step of the way — with each new piece of history, and family member that we learned about — Mason’s sense of belonging grew. Finally, he felt like he had a home… the same pride that I take in my Nigerian roots.

Finished with our years of research, we finally set a date for our trip — July 5th of this year — and started packing our bags. We were excited… more excited than we’d been for anything else before… so excited that Mason began to feel sick. Suddenly, he started having these spells of nausea, and fits of shaking and vomiting. Between packing his bags, and brushing up on his French, he was constantly hugging the toilet. At first, I thought it was just the happiness getting the better of him… that all of the emotions swirling inside him had somehow manifested themselves into a sickness… but, as the weeks leading up to our departure creeped by, he started to change.

I don’t know why we didn’t assume that he was pregnant earlier on. Looking back, it was obvious. Once we found out, though — after two months of him throwing up, gaining weight, and lashing out at me for the smallest little things — we were devastated.

Now, not only has a massive wrench been thrown in our plans… but, newly aware of the baby growing inside him, Mason is starting to reconsider the timeframe of our trip. Instead of leaving for France in a few days, like we scheduled for, he wants to wait until the baby is born… and a little bit older… to visit France, so that we can all experience it together. Our flight takes off in 72 hours, and he and I are still wrestling with the idea of getting on that plane, or waiting a few more years.

Sleepovers at Mack’s house have only gotten more exciting since I accidentally got him pregnant. Just to clear things up, he and I have been best friends our entire lives… and, a few months ago, we went through this experimental phase. You know how it is for guys our age. We tried a few things out, touched each other for a while, realized we didn’t like each other that way… and, at some point during that brief chapter of our friendship, I accidentally knocked him up. Now his folks are upset at him, and think the baby belongs to his ex. Yadda yadda yadda.

Like I was saying though… sleepovers at Mack’s house are one heck of a time now, especially since his parents aren’t suspicious of me. We can do whatever we want, and they don’t think anything of it, just like it’s always been. Whenever I’m at his place, it’s like my hands get stuck to his belly. I can’t keep myself off of that thing. When I walk through the front door and meet him in the kitchen, that’s the first place they go… and then, they’re glued. I turn into a huge mush-fest, cooing and kissing at it, like I only understand baby talk. It doesn’t matter who’s around, either. His parents think it’s the sweetest thing when they see me rubbing his belly. His mom and dad still see me as that snot-nosed little boy their some met in pre-k… and, as far as they know, I’m just being a supportive friend.

When we go down to the basement — where all of Mack’s stuff is — all I do is lay with him in bed and play with his belly, which is way more fun than it sounds. Like, I’ll spend hours just resting my head on it while he eats snacks and plays video games, feeling the baby kick, talking to the little thing, and listening to his stomach gurgle. I lick Mack’s belly button all the time too… just flick my tongue in there, until it starts to cramp. It’s just something weird that I do, to get a reaction out of him and the baby. It’s so fascinating, knowing that there’s a tiny human in there, and feeling it move around — even more so, with it being my kid. Honestly, I still don’t think I fully grasp the whole situation. It doesn’t feel… real… yet.

He and I talk about this whole pregnancy thing like it’s nothing. I’ll ask him how he’s feeling, and when I should come by to take him to his next appointment, and he never treats me like I’m just his baby-daddy. Our friendship hasn’t changed one bit. He’s still cool with me, and I’m the same old idiot that I’ve always been. All night long, he’ll go on and on about how weird his pregnancy is, how his parents are total assholes whenever I’m not around, how gross he feels in his own skin, or how his body is working against him. Recently, he told me that when he farts, he pees a little bit too. It’s honestly really funny, now that I think about it. Every time I hear him fart, or smell one of his silent killers, that means that he’s just pissed himself too. Even funnier, his farts are way worse now. They reek like hell.

I look forward to going to Mack’s place after school every night. It’s so nice that we can still have a good time with one another, laugh like two lunatics, and be ourselves… even in our current situation. In our hearts, we’re still those two little dickheads in the back of the class, goofing off and having a good time. Honestly, if things could just stay like this until he gives birth, I’d get him pregnant a million times.

Before I got here, I thought the smell of popcorn was going to be the most irresistible aroma in the theater tonight. With these two little gremlins growing inside me, just breathing in the air at the snack booth makes my movie-night-pokerface fall flat... but, this time, I managed to stay strong, and only grabbed a tub of Caramel Kernels. Had I known that what I was getting myself into earlier, coming into the theater and taking my seat, I would’ve left the building altogether. Feet… that’s what got my mouth foaming right now. An entire row of dozens of large, meaty, smelly man-feet, just begging to be worshipped and nibbled on. Who knows why all these guys have their filthy dogs out to air. Honestly, it may just be a lack of home training… but with this extra sensitive nose of mine, I can smell each pair, and it’s making me crazy. My hormones are so out of whack right now, and it’s been so long sense a man has even given me a second glance. I don’t know how much longer I can last before I just start… sucking toes. I feel crazy!

“What are you doing, Mitchy?!” Rizzo screamed, clawing at the dirt ground beneath him as the baby’s head pushed out from between his legs — the only person around for miles too preoccupied with taking yet another swig of his favorite spirits to put forward any aid. “Put the damn bottle down!” What was supposed to be a relaxing midnight getaway on the countryside, for Rizzo to talk out his fears and get his head together before the birth of his son, quickly turned into a horror show when his water suddenly broke, leaving him and Mitchy — a useless alcoholic — stranded on the side of a narrow dirt path, in the middle of the night. “Stop drinking and pull this baby out of me!” Suddenly, every worry that he’d spent the last several minutes venting to his friend about had manifested — his fears of not being ready to have this baby, the uncertainty of whether or not he’d make it to his due date, his low tolerance for pain. All at once, they came to life, and he was helpless against them. “FUUUCK!”

The latter days of Rohan’s pregnancy have proven to be just as tough as his doctor told him they’d be. He’s always uncomfortable, and constantly in pain. The baby just won’t sit still now that she’s taken up most of the space in his womb. She tosses and turns inside of him, at all hours on the clock, desperate to find even an inch of wiggle room to occupy. It’s excruciating torture, living day-to-day with a five-pound baby thrashing it’s weight against his organs all the time, but thankfully Rohan’s doctor has taught him a soothing exercise to overcome the excruciating pain. Be still, breathe in, breathe out, talk it through, and rub the hurt away… that’s what he does whenever his daughter starts to get stir-crazy again, and it’s helped him out a great deal. Although the pain of her movement hasn’t gotten any better, it’s much easier for him to deal with, and it’s all thanks to Doctor Bird’s advice.

Mulligan built his entire platform on chastity—the whole morality system surrounding abstaining from any kind of sexual activity or behaviors. Aside from his undeniable talent, and the unique smoothness of his voice, it was his message that really won the admiration of Country Music fans across the country. He wasn’t singing about a truck, or some girl that he liked… or trying to fit the image of a rich, famous ladies’ man. He was singing about self-love, fierce patriotism, and independence, and talking about the importance of staying pure—which was something that the hundreds of millions of sensible people in America appreciated.

He was at the top of the heap, performing with country music icons, on some of the biggest stages in America. He was an everyday, red, white, and blue-blooded citizen, turned into a star!

Needless to say, it came as a real shock when he revealed his pregnancy to the public, seemingly out of nowhere. Via a sudden post on Instagram, captioned by a sincere and heartfelt apology, he came clean to his fans—telling them that he was nothing more than a flawed man, and all about how he’d gone and gotten himself knocked up. Within minutes of his confession the internet blew up, with his conservative fan base denouncing him for being a fraud… and, even worse, being impregnated by another man. In the days to come, several different men would come out of the woodworks to go public with stories of their romantic and sexual relationships with Mulligan, revealing the details of his secret life. He was no purist. He was no ladies’ man. He was not sensible.

Just like that, his career took a nosedive. He went front singing in the courtyard of his childhood trailer park to performing at the CMAs… only to lose everything that he’d worked for.

All he has left is a broken heart and a baby. Maybe that’ll make a good song.

Standing there, in front of the mirror, scrutinizing his warped reflection, Ryan can’t believe how quickly his breasts have come in. At only four months along, he’s already starting to gain healthy fat and lactate—producing his first drops of the white gold that will keep his baby alive. He feels huge, with all of the weight that he’s gained. His soft, hanging belly… his droopy love handles… his full chest. It’s all so new… and, even though he doesn’t like the way it looks, he feels confident knowing that he’s going above in beyond in giving his baby all the nutrients that it needs to thrive inside of him. What’s a little overindulge if it means his baby is healthy?