Atypical Choices Pt. 2

No picture this time, but still a good read (IMHO) Hope you enjoy!

Atypical Choices

By

Brimmingbelly04

Inspired By Atypical Belly Dance

By Vancefox of DeviantArt

Images By Fulleclipsehex

Part Two: The Proposals

***

Sven's performance had finished over an hour ago and he was still exhausted after having forced himself to perform various motions his bloated body could barely handle. As much as he wanted to head home, he knew there were probably still a bunch of guys waiting out back for him, hoping to convince him to go home with one (or two) of them instead.

He'd done so in the past, so long as the offer came with a handsome face and financial compensation. Sven was pretty sure that's how he'd ended up pregnant. Aside from the quints, he wouldn't be going home with anyone tonight, because having sex required energy he didn't have.

That and he didn't need the money. The first thing the thirty-two year old had done when he got back to the locker room (after plopping down on one of the worn out couches lining the wall) was to count the money Dominic had collected from the stage and brought back to him in a large bag.

Counting what was in the bag alone took almost ten minutes because it contained over $3000. Sven still needed to count all the bills that'd been stuffed in his costume, but first he had to get it off. Eager as he was to get out of the hot and uncomfortable latex getup, he'd yet to work up the will, let alone to get back to his feet.

Even though he didn't know his total earnings for the evening yet, the thirty-two year old was pleased with what he'd counted thus far. God knows he'd earned it…

Obviously, the five babies he'd unintentionally conceived had helped too. Glancing down and out beyond his huge titsz to his huge, hairy belly, Sven set his right hand atop it and gave it a gentle pat.

“Good work tonight, everyone,” he commended with a small, tired chuckle. “Now how ‘bout helping me up and outta this damn costume and into the shower?” He requested, even though there wasn't any point.

He was on his own from here. Sven looked around the otherwise empty room and sighed.

He could've used some help getting undressed, but all the other guys were out front, trying their best to coax tips for themselves out of the audience that remained inside following his performance. Most of the other dancers were good-looking and handsome, but none were as close to as pregnant as Sven, so after his performance, he hated to even think it, but he knew they were going to disappoint.

Oh well, not his problem…

“Alright,” he groaned as he mentally and physically readied to push himself up and off the couch. “Let's do this…” he said before letting out a mighty roar and pushing up with just about all his remaining strength.

Thankfully, he made it back to his feet on his first try. From the couch to standing should've been easier than from the stage floor, but at the moment, it hardly was. Sven gave himself a few seconds to get steady, then with a grunt, he leaned over to his right, grabbed his literal money bag from the couch, and slowly headed for his locker.

Once the bag was in his locker, he shut it and turned, giving himself the room needed to do what he had to do next. Somehow, he needed to get out of the bunny costume, ideally without destroying it in the process.

But if he did? Oh fucking well. It no longer mattered to Sven if Phil got pissed at him because he didn't work for him anymore, and had no intentions of doing so again in the future.

If and when Sven ever got pregnant again, hopefully, not only would it be to a (much) less degree, but also when he was ready and actually wanted to. If and when that point came, Sven didn't know what he'd be doing to make a living, but ideally, it wouldn't be stripping.

There would be a time and place to more deeply think about his future, it just wasn't now. Now that a lot of sweat had been added to the mix, it was infuriatingly difficult to get undressed.

Obviously, the first thing to go had been his bunny ears, so next were the collar and sleeves. Sven just managed to free his beefy arms without tearing the latex, so at least someone could wear that part of the costume again in the future. But the bottom half of the costume..?

Even if he didn't tear or break the chaps, the thirty-two year old had probably ruined the waistband and more than likely, had stretched the thong’s pouch out too much for anyone else to ever be able to fill it. Before removing the chaps or thong, Sven did his best to pull out all the bills he could reach, his giant belly making those stuffed in the front quite difficult to reach but thankfully, only a few bills fell to the floor and none of the big ones from the limited look he was able to get.

He didn't bother counting all of his “additional” tips yet, but he did count the six hundreds he'd found and knew who they were from. Sven was going to miss Avery… Not only was he very easy on the eyes, from what little he knew of him, he actually seemed nice but more importantly: he really knew how to tip.

As he turned and opened his locker again, the tired thirty-two year old wondered if Avery would've tipped him so well had he not been so pregnant? Before he could give it much thought, he noticed something stuck between two of the hundreds: a note.

Sven was in the process of pulling it from the stack of bills he'd formed in his left hand when all of a sudden, one of the lowest babies stretched and pressed harder against his bladder with what felt like one of its shoulders. It pressed hard enough the fecund dancer knew he wasn't going to make it to the toilet unless he started heading for it now, so quickly as he could, he tossed the money and note into the bag, locked his locker this time, and started waddling off, only to “abruptly” change direction.

Screw the toilet, I'll just piss in the shower, he said to himself as he completed ponderously altering his course. I do it at home, so why not in this dump?

Speaking of the shower, if there was any doubt that performers came second to Phil making as much money as he could, it was that thing… A few years ago, The Oven had been just another crappy titty bar, struggling to keep its doors open, when Phil stepped in and bought it for a steal. He proceeded to change the name, fire all the female dancers and replace them with pregnant men, and the rest as they say is history.

To his credit, Phil paid his guys well and had done a nice job updating all the customers facing parts of the club, but in the back, little if anything had changed, including the shower. To its beleaguered credit, the shower had obviously been put in as an afterthought to begin with…

It was super small and had been awkwardly crammed into a previously unused corner of the room that just so happened to be near to already existing plumbing. Even when they were at their smallest (right at the beginning of their employment,) all The Oven's dancers complained about how cramped it was, Sven quickly becoming one of the (literal) biggest and most frequent complainers.

As such, he wasn't expecting the most luxurious or comfortable shower of his life, but he still wanted to take one before heading home. Or attempt to…

Big as he'd gotten, and small as the shower was to begin with, he still somehow didn't expect for the front of his belly to forcefully collide with the back wall and controls before he was able to bring himself to a stop. The cold, porcelain tiles and prodding metal controls, startled both him and the quints.

The latter didn't appreciate the sudden, unexpected impact. At least three of them jostled, stretched and kicked all at once, causing Sven not only to grunt loudly, but start forcefully peeing right then and there.

“Well, fuck…” he sighed and shook his head as he listened to his flow splatter against the tiles below. “At least I made it…”

He moved to rub his belly but found there wasn't enough room. If Sven couldn't even try to soothe the quints, that meant he wasn't going to be able to turn the water on. He was going to have to back out of the stall, turn around and then back himself in.

As if he needed another reminder of how huge he'd gotten…

Sven would've given up but since he'd just peed in the shower, the decent thing would be to rinse what hadn't made it to the drain down, meaning he'd end up wet anyway. Seeing as he obviously wasn't going to be able to be thorough, he'd probably shower again at home before hitting the sheets.

Sven groaned. Why does everything have to be so hard and complicated now? He silently complained as his flow slowed to a trickle. Makes me ALMOST look forward to giving birth! He mused as once he was done, he slowly backed out of the shower.

Before he got back in, he thought to throw some towels down on the floor. The shower drained slow and the last thing he needed was to slip while stepping out.

Sven was definitely going to have to shower again when he got home as he only felt marginally cleaner. After drying off as best he could, he headed back to the couch. He needed off his swollen feet for at least a few minutes before he got dressed.

***

The thirty-two year old looked from himself over to the sopping towels on the floor. He felt bad, but someone else was going to have to pick them up. He was going to have enough trouble picking himself back up off the couch. He was about to do so when the door to the dressing room opened and Phil stuck his head in.

Sven fought hard not to groan. So hard, he forgot not to roll his eyes. Either Phil didn't notice, or he didn't care. Whatever the case, the club owner was the last person Sven wanted to see or speak with, but it wasn't like he could hop up and hurry out now.

Yet another reason to “want” to give birth.

“Great show tonight,” Phil complimented, much to the dancer's surprise.

He'd figured if he and the club owner ended up speaking, he'd receive criticism about something or another, regardless of how much money he'd brought in. So far, so good, but Sven had worked for Phil long enough now to know better than to get his hopes up. The guy always wanted something…

Sven forced the smallest of smiles onto his face, hoping his otherwise lacking expression adequately expressed his desire to be anywhere but there. He opened his mouth to say “thanks,” but before he got the word out, Phil continued, using that annoying tone he took on when he had (another( request that would benefit him more than his unlucky victim.

“So you're gonna perform again for me tomorrow night, right?” He asked with a wag of his too thin brows and a gross little smirk.

Sven didn't waste even a second thinking about it. “No,” he said firmly. “Now if you don't mind, I was about to get dressed and get out of here, so I'd appreciate some privacy.”

Phil let out a loud guffaw. “Privacy! The stripper wants privacy!” He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Yes, the stripper does!” Sven huffed. “Now…”

“You'll have your privacy once I have my answer,” the club owner cut him off.

“I already gave it to you: No,” Sven said again, drawing the word out longer.

“Come on, man! You're acting like I'm asking for a favor when I'm actually giving you another opportunity to make even more money!”

“Thanks for the opportunity, but no thanks. I'm good.”

“I'll double what I gave you tonight!”

“You could triple it and my answer would still be no! I barely made it through tonight!”

“Yeah, I could tell you were struggling,” Phil admitted. “You're dancing was pretty lackluster, but thankfully, no one complained.”

Complained?! Pregnant or not, Sven had never gotten any complaints about his performances, aside from Phil. There was that criticism he'd been expecting…

“Of course, no one complained! No one's ever seen someone as pregnant as me!”

“Same could be said if you perform again tomorrow…”

“So you do want me to give birth onstage, huh?” Sven snorted and rolled his eyes again.

“Shit…” the club owner's eyes widened. “Think you could actually arrange that?”

“OUT! NOW!” The stripper suddenly yelled, riling the babies up all over again. All of them.

“Alright, fine…” Phil grumbled as he pulled his head back and then the door. “Had to at least try…” he said as it closed.

The thirty-two year old was genuinely surprised the older man hadn't argued more. Relieved too… He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the couch as his hands went to his huge, hairy belly to once again, try and soothe its five large occupants.

Now more than ever, he was ready to get out of The Oven and never come back. But first, he still needed to get dressed, which meant he needed to get back to his locker…

Sven had just begrudgingly decided he was ready to put in (all the) effort, when there was a knock at the door. At least a knock meant it wasn't Phil already back to try again. The owner would've just let himself in.

“Sven?” Matt asked through the door.

The dancer sighed and smiled as he relaxed, setting his arms atop his belly. Matt was the nicest guy at The Oven, which contrasted greatly with his huge, muscular body. Pregnancy, tits, ass and package aside, the bouncer made the thirty-two year old look small.

“Come on in, Matt,” Sven called out.

The bouncer slid into the dressing room, promptly closing the door behind him for privacy. “See you just got a visit from our friend,” he chuckled. “I, oh!” He suddenly paused when he noticed Sven wasn't dressed. “I'll come back when you're…”

“You're good. Actually I could use the help, if you don't mind?” Sven asked with a still tired but genuine smile.

“Sure, no problem,” Matt readily agreed.

Again, nice guy. If word ever got out about how nice he actually was, big and intimidating looking as he was, his days of bouncing would be over.

“Sit for a sec,” Sven suggested, nodding to the couch to his left since there was no way the two of them would fit on the one he already occupied. “You've gotta be tired after tonight.”

“I am, which means you must be exhausted!” The bouncer chuckled as he crossed the room in long, easy strides.

“Like you wouldn't believe. I thought I was gonna have to signal for your help a couple times, but I powered through.”

“Everyone seemed happy with the show, especially that one guy…”

“Avery,” Sven sighed. “Tipped me $600!”

“Nice! Guess that's part of the reason you turned Phil down, huh?”

“You already heard?”

Matt nodded. “He didn't look too happy when I saw him out in the hall. Didn't sound too happy either.”

“Lemme guess, ‘selfish pregnant bitch?’”

“Somethin’ like that,” he replied, notably avoiding eye contact.

“Not my problem,” Sven shrugged. “He got more than enough outta me!”

“That he did.”

“Anyway, how've you been?” He asked. “Didn't have a chance to talk to you when I got in since I was running late. You've got that bodybuilding competition coming up soon, right?”

Matt nodded again. “In four days. You gonna be able to come?” He asked, briefly looking Sven's direction with a small but hopeful smile.

The dancer smiled back. “You'll have to ask them,” he nodded down at his massive middle. “If they're out by then and I'm up to it, I'll be there.”

“And if they haven't vacated the premises..?”

“God!” He groaned. “Don't put that out there!” He rolled his eyes.

“I take it back!”

“Thank you!” He sighed. “Anyway… God forbid they haven't come out by then, so long as I'm not in active labor, I'll do my best to be there, I'll just probably need two seats!” He realized aloud with another sigh.

“It'd be great if you could make it,” Matt said, sounding sincere while uncharacteristically going back to avoiding eye contact. “But no pressure!”

“I'll keep you posted,” Sven promised as he took his right hand from his belly and pointed to his locker. “Mind grabbing my stuff for me?”

“Sure thing,” the bouncer said as he stood.

Sven gave him his combination then said, “Lucky you, you don't have to walk me to my car tonight.”

“No?”

“I Ubered. Don't fit behind the wheel anymore, go me!” He chuckled.

“I can take you home,” Matt said as he walked back over with the clothes Sven had worn to the club, minus his coat.

“You don't have to.”

“I don't mind,” he said as he tossed the dancer his giant bra. “I'm good to go whenever you are.”

Sven didn't raise his arms to catch the bra. Instead he leaned forward a little and angled his head so the bra's left cup landed atop it like a huge hat.

“Oh, wow!” Matt laughed.

“Thanks,” the dancer chuckled as he reached up, took the bra from his head and set it down on the couch next to him. “Not gonna bother putting that back on.”

“Oh?”

“Unless you mind?”

“What? No!” Matt replied with a nervous laugh. “You're good. Here,” he said as he tossed Sven's shirt over.

This time, the dancer used his hand to make the catch. He shook the shirt out, found the bottom and worked his arms in first, followed by his head. A few seconds later, Sven's head popped out and he worked the shirt down so it was at least covering his tits.

“Gimme a hand?” He asked Matt.

“You're probably gonna need both!” The bouncer said as he came closer and set the clothes he was still holding down on the couch.

“Oh, most definitely!” Sven huffed as he held his hands as far out in front of him as they now went.

Matt moved to stand in front of him, then the two of them linked hands. On the bouncer's count of three, they used their combined strength to get the heavy dancer standing. Both of them grunted from the strain, Sven understandably a little louder.

Once he was sure the silver-haired stripper was steady, Matt let go and stepped back. He remained uncharacteristically quiet and suddenly looked quite uncomfortable, which was unusual.

“You're quiet tonight,” Sven noted as he pulled his shirt as far down his middle as it would go. “Everything OK?”

“Totally! I'm fine! Everything's fine!” Matt quickly and adamantly insisted. Too quickly and adamantly for it to be true.

“Uh huh…” Sven replied as he eyed him skeptically.

At 6’1” tall, he was far from a shrimp, but he still had to raise his gaze some 5” to look Matt in the eyes. As he did, Sven couldn't help but note again how sexy the super built bouncer was. Physically and personally, Matt checked all of his boxes, making it all the more unfortunate he was straight.

“Everything good with you and Shelly?” He asked a few seconds later when Matt remained silent.

“Yeah, we're good. Really good actually,” the bouncer replied less than convincingly.

“Uh huh…” Sven skeptically repeated as he pointed to the couch and requested, “Sweats, please.”

“You don't want your jock?” Matt asked as he moved back towards the couch.

“The support? Yes, but not the hassle of putting it back on and taking it off. Now tell me what's going on with you and Shelly?”

The bouncer finally looked up (but down) at Sven as he handed him his pants. He looked surprised, like a (giant) kid who'd gotten caught in a lie. Matt swallowed hard before clearing his throat and looking away.

“Can we wait to talk about it till we get to the car?” He requested.

“Sure,” Sven nodded as he took his pants, hoping he didn't sound as surprised as he was.

While they'd only known each other for less than a year, he considered the sexy, thirty year old bouncer/professional bodybuilder to now be a good friend. Sven had hung out with Matt on several occasions outside of The Oven, and had met his girlfriend of five years, Shelly, three times, and liked her a lot too.

Shelly was an OnlyFans girly, who'd obviously had quite a bit of work done to (further) enhance her figure. Between her enhancements and the ones Matt had done in himself with a lot of time spent and the gym and a “generous” round of ‘roids, the couple looked too good and unreal to be true, but they were. Sven was sure they really loved each other, or had been, so to know there might be trouble in paradise was upsetting. It was even more so thanks to all his damn hormones…

“I can do it by myself,” Sven said as he started readying his sweats to put them on. “But…”

“Gimme,” Matt said as he snatched them back, turned them around and then moved back in front of the dancer, where he crouched and quickly disappeared behind his belly and breasts. “Which leg first?” He asked, voice now slightly muffled.

“Left.”

“Jesus…”

“You want me to start with the…”

“No, it's not that.”

“Then…”

“You've got the fattest cock and balls I've ever seen!”

“You've seen ‘em before…”

“Never this close!” Matt laughed, his warm breath blowing against the underside of Sven's belly and his fat package.

“Jealous?” The dancer chuckled.

“Not of your cock!” The bouncer huffed.

“Don't all guys want big, fat cocks?”

“To a degree! Most want ‘em big, but still be able to fit inside other people!” He laughed again.

“Guess it's good I don't have that problem!”

“I'd be happy if I had your balls though! Woof!” Matt said as he tapped Sven's left shin, indicating he should lift that leg.

He did so slowly and carefully, then repeated the process with the other. A few moments later, Matt worked his sweats up his thick thighs, then tugged harder at the elastic waistband, allowing the dancer’s enviable bull balls and then his dick to drop into them.

“There ya go,” he said as he stood. “Ready to get outta here?”

“Just need my shoes and coat,” Sven reminded before grimacing slightly.

“Everything OK?” Matt immediately asked.

“Just a… kick. A couple of ‘em, actually,” the dancer grunted. “Think the babies are just as ready as I am to hit the bed,” he said as he internally debated whether or not he really needed to take that second shower before turning in?

The answer was yes in order not to feel gross, but he'd see how he felt once he got home.

“Soon as we get your shoes and coat on, we're outta here,” Matt said as he headed back towards the locker, where Sven had kicked his shoes off before his shower and left them on the floor.

The bouncer crouched in front of the tired dancer again and worked his swollen feet back into his sneakers. Next, he stood, retrieved Sven's coat and helped him put it on.

“Just need to grab my money and I'm good to go,” Sven said as he slid his arms in then pulled the sides around his belly.

As soon as he did, he shook his head and sighed. He'd bought the biggest trench he could find online and it still didn't fit. If anything, it only made him look bigger.

Sven handed the bag over to Matt. “You should carry this,” he said. “Someone would have to be crazy to try and rob you!” He chuckled.

“Thanks, I think?” The bouncer laughed as he took the bag and led the way out of the dressing room, making it a point to shorten his long strides so Sven would have an easier time keeping up.

“It was a compliment,” the dancer confirmed as he waddled behind. “You still have that huge truck, right?”

“I do.”

“Good. Hopefully I'll still fit!”

“If you don't fit in the front, we can always put you in the bed and tie you down,” Matt teased, sounding more like his usual self, though Sven could tell there was definitely still something on his mind.

The thirty-two year old was out of breath after climbing up into the cab of Matt’s truck. He fit, but just barely, even after the bouncer had moved the seat back as far as it went. The front of Sven's belly pressed against the dashboard, forcing him to recline the seat some and therefore take more of its weight against his already sore back and cramped internal organs.

“Alright, we made it…” he panted once Matt was behind the wheel. “We're in the car, now… spill.”

Matt sighed as he cranked the engine. “There's no real easy way to say this,” he shook his head. “It's a really weird ask.”

“Matt, I'm a stripper… I get asked weird things and to do weird things all the time.”

“Well this is a really weird ask,” the bouncer stressed. “But I promised Shelly I would.”

“So you guys are still talking?”

“Talking, living together, fucking…” Matt listed off. “I told you we were fine.”

“So what's the issue?”

He sighed again as he pulled out of the lot, glancing to his right and watching out the corner of his eye at how Sven's belly and breasts all wobbled and bobbled as his “huge” truck bounced out of the lot and onto the main road.

“Shelly and I wanna have a baby.”

“That's great!” Sven grinned.

“Yes and no…”

“How so?”

“Shelly found out she's infertile.”

“Oh man, I'm sorry,” he quickly stopped smiling.

Not that he wanted to be pregnant, at least not now or to this degree, but if he knew he couldn’t have children when he was ready for and wanted them (if he ever eventually did,) he'd probably be devastated.

“She could get pregnant using a donor egg,” Matt continued. “The doctor doesn't think she'd have an issue bringing a pregnancy to term, so we've talked about that, but…” he sighed again. “Shelly doesn't want to get pregnant.”

“But she wants to have kids? With you?” Sven questioned for clarification.

His huge, handsome friend nodded. “She's afraid of what a pregnancy would do to her body.”

Sven grunted. “And you think I wasn't?”

“You were?”

“Of course, I was!” He grunted again. “But since they still haven't figured out how to safely perform abortions on men, what choice did I have?” He sighed.

“Touchè…”

“Anyway… I'll be the first to tell you that getting pregnant does a lot to your body. That being said, if Shelly were to get pregnant, I doubt hers would be much like mine,” he shook his head. “Almost no one's is!”

“That's also true,” Matt chuckled in agreement. “I've been working at The Oven since it opened, and I've never seen anyone…”

“I know,” Sven cut in. He didn't need to be told “how special” he was again, he knew. “So what's the ask?”

Matt took his right hand from the wheel and raised it high like a Boy Scout. “It was Shelly's idea,” he stressed. “I thought it was crazy at first, but the more I thought about it, the more I thought she might be on to something.”

“And that something would be..?”

“You having the kid for us.”

To say Sven was shocked and surprised was as big an understatement as his belly now was. He blinked repeatedly as he looked out the windshield, finding himself at a total loss for words for the next several seconds.

“You mean that Shelly and you want me to be your surrogate?” He asked once he was finally able to speak again.

“Yes and no,” Matt said again. “Shelly thinks you're a stud, her words not mine, not that I don't agree!” He nervously laughed. “So since she can't biologically contribute, and doesn't have any family she's willing to ask, her idea is for me to, well…” he hesitated again. “For me to knock you up,” he finished, his voice fading to almost nothing as he turned his head as far in the other direction as he could while still focusing on the road.

Once again, Sven was shocked. “When you say, Shelly wants you to knock me up, what exactly do you mean?”

“I, I mean we mean, if you're down for it, for me to, you know…”

“Fuck me?”

“Yeah,” Matt nodded.

“But aren't you straight?”

“I'm bi.”

“OK, but what about Shelly?”

“It was her idea,” Matt said again. “It would save a lot of money.”

Sven didn't even know where to begin? It was hot and exciting to find out Matt was bi and he (or at least his girlfriend) wanted to fuck him, but the reason why took some (aka a lot) of the potential appeal away.

“I dunno, man?” He sighed.

“See, I told you it was a weird ask!”

“It is,” Sven confirmed with a grunt. “But that's not the reason I don't know. The reason is ‘cause pregnancy just isn't my thing. I can't wait till I'm just myself again!”

“We'd pay you of course, and if you got pregnant again, it probably wouldn't be this pregnant,” Matt said as he looked over at Sven's enormous belly.

“Hopefully not, but who knows? I dunno if I'm the overly fertile one or the other guy. Would you and Shelly be willing to take that risk?”

“We talked about it and we would. We'd also be fine with you still dancing.”

“Is Phil in on this?”

“What? No! But I'm sure he'd be happy if you stuck around…”

“I'm sure he would too,” Sven rolled his eyes.

“So..?”

“I've gotta think about it,” he replied. “It's only ‘cause you've become such a good friend, I like Shelly, and I think you're hot as hell that I'm even remotely considering it.”

The bouncer smirked. “Take your time. No pressure, honestly, I just had to ask.”

“Lemme see how bad it is getting these five out first, OK?” Sven requested as Matt turned down his street.

“Yeah, of course.”

A minute later, they were in front of Sven's building. Matt put the truck in park but kept it running as he hopped out, hurried around the hood, opened the stripper's door and helped him out.

“Don't wanna forget this,” he said, ducking back into the truck once Sven was out of the way. He grabbed the bag of money and handed it over. “Didn't you tell me you make more than twice as much dancing pregnant?” He asked with a smirk.

“Don't try and butter me up,” Sven chuckled.

“Is it working?” The big bouncer smirked down at him.

“Not yet.”

“Damn…”

“At least I'm thinking about it, right?”

“Right,” Matt nodded, getting a little more serious. “I was worried you were gonna freak out on me.”

“I could tell,” Sven grunted. “You're pretty in touch with your emotions for a meathead,” he winked.

“A bisexual one.”

“That must be why,” he chuckled. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Of course.”

“I'll keep you posted on, well everything now,” he said as he made a slow and wide turn to aim himself at the front door.

“Please do, and if you need anything, Shelly and I would be happy to help,” Matt offered.

“I'm sure you would, butter boy!” Sven laughed and waved before heading inside.

***

Unsurprisingly, Matt’s proposal remained front and center as Sven let himself into his fourth floor apartment. That and food because also unsurprisingly, after all the activity that evening, he and the quints were starving.

Sven ordered a large pepperoni and anchovy pizza. Prior to getting pregnant, he'd loathed the salty little fish but now thanks to the babies, he couldn't seem to get enough. On pizza they kind of made sense to him now, but when the thirty-two year old found himself adding them to peanut butter sandwiches, he was still mentally disgusted. Physically, he'd come to love (and of course, crave) the strange combination.

He had forty minutes till the pizza would arrive, giving him time for that second shower. Sven's shower at home was much larger than the one at The Oven, but even at home, things had gotten a bit cramped. He was able to turn around but only while facing the curtain. When he did, his belly pushed the curtain out, but at least he was finally able to get properly clean.

He'd just thrown on (subjectively) a very tight pair of short shorts and gone out into the living room, when he heard a knock at the door. Sven grabbed some cash from the bag, then waddled over to the door.

He was just about to open it when he realized he hadn't put a shirt on. Oh well, he was a guy, so he was allowed to go shirtless, even if that meant fully displaying his massive, milk-filled rack (and belly, of course.)

Needless to say, the pizza delivery guy got a big surprise. The young twenty-something didn't know where to look, but he had plenty of options. Sven chuckled, smirked and winked as he handed over his money and told the kid to keep the change.

As he made his way back to the living room, the dancer inhaled deeply, hating how much he loved that damn fishy smell. He set the pizza down on the coffee table, then set himself down on the middle of the couch, leaned forward with (another) grunt, letting his belly drop between his wide spread legs, and set to work.

Sven ate half the pizza before he finally “came up for air.” As he leaned back on the couch, he inhaled deeply, creating a belch so loud, massive and pleasingly pressure relieving, it caused his lips to flutter and his big nipples to become fully erect.

Quite honestly, he could've easily finished the second half of the pizza, but he felt a food coma coming on and he wanted to count the rest of his money before he hit the hay. He could sleep in late and have the rest of the pizza for breakfast.

Sven didn't get too far into counting when he came across the hundreds and the note Avery had left for him. Happy in knowing he'd just made (much) more in one night than he'd ever come close to before, the thirty-two year old quickly added his tally thus far to his notes in his phone, then read the handwritten note.

Sven,

The postings online were vague, but I had a feeling tonight's “special performance” would have something to do with you. If you're reading this, I was right , and even though I've yet to see your final encore, I know I'm going to love each and every second of it!

Think it's safe to assume you know by now that I'm a huge fan. Watching you perform as your pregnancy progressed (and progressed) has been nothing short of amazing!

A few months back when you got too big for the club to let you give lap dances anymore, I was as disappointed as I was turned on. Why? Because if you couldn't tell (haha!) I have a serious thing for preggos, and you happen to be the biggest and sexiest I've ever seen, let alone imagined.

Watching you bloat (and bloat) and swell up (and up) has been a dream come true, and that's coming from someone who considers themself quite fortunate to begin with. For whatever reason, things almost always end up going my way, and now more than ever, I hope that continues to be the case.

That said, I know I'm probably pushing my luck, but I'd forever be furious with myself if I didn't take my shot while I had it. I don't know your personal situation (if you have a boyfriend/husband/partner, etc.) so I'm sorry if this offends or freaks you out (and I hope it doesn't,) but I have a proposal…

It would be my ultimate dream come true if we finally got the chance to better know each other, away from all your other fans. I know you won't be pregnant much longer, but any time I'd get to spend in your presence would be worth it in my book, regardless of the cost.

If you're interested, name your price, and I'll gladly pay it. What happens during whatever time remains, however long it may be, is totally up to you.

Anything you want? Consider it yours. Anything you want to do or have done to you? Consider it done.

My only ask would be that you let me be with you while you give birth. But if that wouldn't be allowed, or if that pushes things too far for you, I'm completely willing to take that off the table.

I think I've just about said enough. Not only is my hand cramping because I haven't handwritten this much in a long time, but if you're still/ever reading this, I'm confident my point has been made…

Below is my number and email. Feel free to contact me however you like, but only if you want to. If not, I understand, and will try not to be too disappointed, because probably without even knowing it, you've already given me just about more than I could've ever asked for.

Very much hoping to hear from you soon,

Avery

“Wow…” Sven said slowly, shaking his head as he finished reading. “What the…” he trailed off.

For the second time that night, he was in shock. He'd gone from receiving one big and unexpected proposal to two in less than two hours!

He'd been asked to get pregnant again, this time on purpose, by someone he considered a (very fucking hot) friend. Not only that, but now also to grant Avery “private access” to him (whatever that entailed) throughout the rest of his pregnancy, potentially including labor and delivery!

Sven had a lot to think about, and not much time when it came to Avery’s proposition.

Unlike some of the other guys at The Oven, he'd never been too thrilled to be knocked up, probably because of how knocked up he'd gotten. That being said, the money he'd made dancing while pregnant had been excellent, and stripping with five babies growing in his belly had obviously opened new doors. Doors he wasn't sure he wanted to open and go through, but options nonetheless…

If he got pregnant again, he'd get paid to carry while continuing to make good money at The Oven. Probably not as good as during this pregnancy, assuming he didn't get stupidly knocked up again, but more money than he would've as a “regular” dancer.

And if Sven agreed to “get to know” Avery more, and for him to be there while he gave birth..? More money still. Potentially a lot more, but at quite an unusual cost…

The thirty-two year old didn't know what to do or think? He didn't have the energy. Despite all the (additional) excitement, that food coma was still coming, which meant he needed to get to bed before he ended up passing out on the couch, which was something he'd very much regret if that happened now.

Grunting and groaning, he hefted himself off the couch, took the rest of the pizza to the kitchen and put it in the fridge, then tottered towards his bedroom. With each step and corresponding bounce of his hairy belly and boobs, Sven's eyes got a little heavier, and yet he still worried if he'd be able to fall asleep now that his mind was going a mile a minute, but as it turned out, there was no need for concern…

Less than a minute after lying down, before he'd finished trying to get a little more comfortable, the food coma was almost in full effect. Sven heard himself start to snore and hated it, but at least it didn't bother him as much as it previously had…

Till about halfway through the pregnancy, he only ever snored when he was really, really drunk. The bigger Sven got, the more his breathing was affected, now to the extent that it sounded like he was drunker than he'd ever been, even though several months had passed since he'd had even a drop of alcohol.

Still (but barely) semi-conscious, Sven wondered if Avery was familiar with that aspect of pregnancy? If they spent all the time remaining together, including at night in bed, would he mind? If he did, oh well, because he would be paying for the pleasure, if Sven allowed it.

***

For the first time in more than a week, Sven (aka, the quints,) slept through the night without a trip to the bathroom. But per (belated) usual, the suddenly urgent need to go roused the thirty-two year old shortly before seven thirty, and this time when the need hit, it wasn't just to alleviate his bladder.

Thanks to a full night of much needed rest, it didn't take as long as it usually did for the quint-carrying preggo to get out of bed. Compared to his now typical pace in the morning, Sven was out of bed and on his way to the bathroom relatively quickly, but almost not quick enough…

In his rush to get his shorts off, he didn't work them far enough down his thighs before he sat, causing them to split up the back. It wasn't the first clothing casualty Sven had had but hopefully, it would be his last (during this pregnancy, anyway.)

His huge ass had barely touched down when it started to spurt loudly, resulting in him groaning at nearly the same volume. Evidently, the pizza hadn't agreed with him… That or it was also quite possible Sven had finally pushed his cramped stomach and other tightly packed organs to their limit? He'd have to keep that in mind going forward but knew doing so would be difficult because his almost overburdened body and the five big babies it contained, almost constantly demanded to be fed.

After having pretty much cleared the kitchen of everything else consumable the day before, pizza was still on the menu for breakfast, but probably only two slices. He would have the last two slices later, after he'd gone to the store to restock (again.) At least after his financially successful evening, Sven could buy any and everything he wanted without the (monetary) guilt.

Now that he was up, the babies were too. As he finished up on the toilet, the thirty-two year old ignored his massive tits for the moment and looked out at his belly, which looked even bigger all squished on his lap. He watched as not so subtle protrusions popped up here and there: a foot up near the top between his ribs, a head down to the right, and a butt off to the left to name a few.

Despite it happening for months, he still found it strange when the babies moved. Increasingly uncomfortable too. As he reached back to flush, Sven very much looked forward to the day when he'd have full possession of his body back. He doubted getting to that point was going to be fun or easy, but would be worth it in the end.

He wouldn't have much “just me” time if he got pregnant again, for/with Matt. If he did, it would make more sense to just get it over with as soon as possible, wouldn't it? No sense in trying to get back in shape if he was just gonna blow right back up again, right?

Shit, am I really considering doing it? Sven wondered as he slowly stood and proceeded to wipe.

He had time to figure that out. He also had five babies to birth before he made his decision.

Since he was up and already in the bathroom, he figured now was as good a time as any for another shower. This one was relatively quick since he'd showered twice the night before, after which Sven dressed and then headed for the kitchen for his breakfast of champions, cold pizza.

On his way, he stopped in the living room to grab Avery’s note so he could read it again as he ate. The two slices of pizza had hardly taken the edge off his hunger, so Sven thought about returning to the fridge to grab a third but instead, he reached for his phone and typed in Avery’s number.

His call was answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Avery? It's Sven.”

“Oh, hey!” Avery replied, his excitement clearly evident.

“Sorry to call so early, but since we're kind of in a time crunch, I figured I should reach out.”

“Don't worry about the time. I've been up for a couple hours now. Just got back from the gym.”

“Get a good pump in?” Sven asked.

“I did.”

“Nice.”

“I try,” Avery chuckled before expectantly asking, “So..?”

“So I wanted to talk about your proposal a little more.”

“Sure!” He readily agreed. “I figured you'd probably have some questions… Ask away!”

“Actually I was thinking we could talk about it in person?”

“That's fine. My day's pretty open. When would be good for you?”

“The only thing on my agenda today is a trip to the store.”

“You still go to the store?”

Sven chuckled. “Yes, I still go to the store…”

Avery laughed back. “I do too, sometimes, but most of the time, I get my stuff delivered.”

“That would definitely be easier now, but I like picking out my own stuff, especially my produce.”

“Yeah, ordering online can be pretty hit or miss. It really all depends on who your shopper is.”

“Exactly.”

“Man…” Avery continued with a sigh. “I dunno what I'd do if I saw you out and about at the store? I'd probably lose my mind!”

“More than you do at the club?”

“Oh, much more!”

“How's that?” Sven asked, genuinely curious to know. “At the club, I'm naked, or nearly so…” he pointed out. “Isn't that more exciting?”

“It was very exciting!” Avery assured. “Maybe you remember how exciting I found it the last time you were allowed to give me a lap dance?”

“I faintly recall…”

“Ouch! Only faintly?!” He groaned.

“OK, more than faintly,” Sven admitted with another chuckle.

He actually quite vividly recalled just how excited Avery had been the last time he'd been his (or anyone else's) “private dancer.” From the feel of it through Avery’s tight jeans, he was packing as much downstairs as he was elsewhere on his bulky, muscular body.

“I'll accept that.”

“OK, but explain to me how seeing me out and about, fully clothed, or as close to it as I can get now, would be more exciting?” He questioned. “Exciting enough to make you lose your mind..?”

“I've never seen you anywhere close to fully clothed, so that for starters… Can't imagine there's much that actually fits you now, so that!” Avery explained. “Seeing you stuffed into something, whatever, meant to be worn by someone smaller and not as pregnant, would be…” he trailed off in a grunt.

“Somehow even more sexy,” Sven finished for him. “OK, I think I'm getting it now.”

“Yeah..?”

“Yeah, I think so. That's a shame, though…”

“It is?” Avery asked, suddenly sounding much less excited.

“It is,” the thirty-two year old confirmed. “Because I was gonna ask if you wanted to come on my grocery run with me?”

“Oh?”

“Take me, actually. But if you don't think you could handle it, it's cool,” he continued. “I'll just order myself a ride over and…”

“No!” Avery cut him off in just short of a shout. “I can handle it!”

“Are you sure? I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Me, uncomfortable?!” Avery laughed. “If you can handle going to the grocery store now, I can handle taking you, I promise,” Avery said. “Now what's your address?”

Sven gave it to him and agreed to be picked up in forty-five minutes. Not long after, Avery ended the call and Sven set his phone back on the table with a sigh.

He hadn't agreed to anything yet, but now that he'd called Avery, the ball was in motion and it was pretty safe to assume what he was going to do.