Delayed Pt. 7 - HEAVILY Edited (Patreon)

Yes, I did post and delete this yesterday... I just wasn't happy with it. Now, I am! After all Peter went through, I thought his labor and delivery deserved to be a little juicier... 3K+ words have been added, mostly towards the end, but this isn't the end! I also edited Pt. 7 so it would better tie into the epilogue already in the works.

Sorry I haven't posted yet this month. I am a florist by trade, so Mother's Day kept me busy, but now I have some time to crank things out!

As always, let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Delayed Revisited

Part Seven

“Peter?” Mike said hesitantly following the burly officer's declaration of his arrest. “What're they talking about?”

 “It's a… A misunder… standing!” Peter wheezed out just before another contraction hit, leaving him moaning as he clutched what he could of his now quaking orb. 

“A misunderstanding?” Mike repeated, sounding understandably doubtful. 

Peter fervently nodded. “Richard. My ex… He,” he started to say through tightly clenched teeth. “He took me to court for… Nevermind! I… He said everything was… Nnngggh!” He groaned, finding his current contraction already more intense than the last. “He's a… lawyer! He should know!”

“You should probably call him?” Mike suggested, raising his brows as he anxiously looked between the officers, both of whom were just standing there staring after pronouncing Peter under arrest. 

The burlier of the two suddenly snapped out of his trance. “No calls till you've been booked in jail,” he shook his head. 

“Jail?!” The laboring content creator wailed. “My case was, nnnngh!!!” He groaned again, louder this time. “Dismissed!” 

“Not according to the information I have,” the officer replied as his eyes traveled up, down and all around Peter's mostly bare body.

“But it was!” Peter insisted as his contraction began to taper off. 

“Not according to the information I have,” “Burly” repeated. “Which means you'll have to take it up with the magistrate when you go before them, which will happen after you've been booked in jail,” he said as he suddenly roughly nudged his skinnier partner with his closest elbow. 

“Skinny” startled. He shook his head several times before he started fumbling around at his belt. It took a few seconds but eventually, he found what he was groping for: a pair of handcuffs. 

They're kidding, right?! Peter asked himself. They're not seriously about to arrest me when I'm FINALLY in labor, already about to give birth for the “first” time?!

“I'm in labor!” He yelled, even though that much was obvious. “I… Oh God!” He moaned, clamping his eyes shut as he felt another contraction starting to build within his distended core. “Look at me! I… I can't! I…”

Burly scoffed. “Are you seriously going to resist?”

 “Resist?!” Peter groaned as the contraction hit. As soon as it did, he felt the babies move down, especially the lowest. “All I'm trying to… do is… FINALLY have these… babies! Triplets!” He huffed as he opened his eyes, his crazed gaze landing on Mike. 

The hunky midhusband had gone from looking shocked and confused to looking quite panicked. Obviously, Peter needed help and guidance, as well as to be tended to in general, but mainly for legal reasons, now didn't seem to be the time?!

Mike looked around the room as he tried to figure out his best course of action. It only took him a few seconds before reaching his best conclusion. 

“I'm sorry, Peter,” he started. “But for… various reasons, I just can't be involved with this… situation, anymore,” he shook his head. “This isn't what I signed up for!” He huffed as he shook it some more. “I have to go. Excuse me, officers,” he said before quickly but carefully squeezing between the pair so he could start collecting his things. 

“Help me, Mike!” The laboring twenty-eight year old begged. “Do something?!”

 “I'll have your fees refunded as soon as possible,” the midhusband promised. “Minus my travel expenses and…”

“Fuck the fees!” Peter wailed. “I need help!”

He honestly could've just saved his breath because that went without saying… 

Mike stopped, closed his eyes and sighed. This was suddenly a nightmare, and not only for him, but potentially, Daddies ‘'R Us as well. The Internet's “Sexiest Midhusband” had not only his own, but his company's reputation to worry about. That being said, as much as he needed!wanted to book it the fuck out of this shit show as soon as possible, he knew leaving a man pregnant with triplets and almost dangerously overdue, while he was FINALLY in labor, ,probably wasn't the best look for either, so…

“Officers…” he said as he turned to address them directly. “Obviously, Mr. Pryce is in need of medical attention… I'm a certified midhusband, and it's my medical opinion that transporting him anywhere other than a hospital at this time would be…”

“Mr. Pryce will be seen by the jail medic as soon as he's been booked,” Burly curtly cut him off. 

“Mr. Pryce might start having his babies before he gets to jail, let alone before he's been booked!” Mike said, still politely and respectfully, but with more force. 

 “Well then maybe you'd like to make the trip with him?” Burly suggested with raised brows. 

The midhusband didn't bother giving the officer's suggestion any thought. “No, thank you,” he declined with a shake of his head. 

Peter groaned. “Seriously, Mike?!”

 “Seriously. I'm sorry, Peter,” he offered again before turning back to speak to Burly and Skinny. “I'd like my medical recommendation to be officially noted,” he requested. 

“Consider it done,” Burly nodded. “But Mr. Pryce will still be transported, first, to the nearest jail, where the jail medic will assess his condition and make their own determination,” he said before raising his brows again and asking, “Anything else, you'd like to add, Mike?”

Mike looked back at Peter, whose enormous belly chose that moment to start clenching and contracting again. Truly, he felt bad, but he just couldn't jeopardize all he'd worked so hard for, so the time had come to cut ties rather than umbilical cords. But first… 

“Can I at least help him put on something a…” he paused. “A little more suitable?”

 Burly grunted. “Yes, please! But make it quick!”

“I'll be as quick as I can,” the midhusband promised before turning back to Peter. “What…”

“Just grab… anything from the dresser,” the laboring man vaguely waved before suddenly remembering the livestream and turning back to look into the camera. 

The show must go on… He told himself. It might be time for an unexpected, early intermission, but it's gotta go on, he decided as he forced himself to smile. 

“So sorry, everyone… Something's obviously come up,” he informed his viewers with a chuckle that sounded as anxious as it did pained. “But stay tuned!” He continued with a nod. “I'll be back!” He nodded some more. “With or without Mike!” He concluded with a roll of his eyes before hitting the button on his remote for the camera and stopping the feed. “Fuck…” he grumbled. 

*****

Since he'd promised the police officers to be as quick as he could, and since he knew it wouldn't be worn again, Mike didn't bother being careful as he removed Peter's camisole.  Actually, he didn't remove it, he simply tore it off, the flimsy silk easily splitting and fraying under his strong grip, leaving Peter's heaving and leaking breasts fully exposed for the next several seconds. 

“Jesus Christ…” Burly muttered, shaking his head but not entirely looking away. 

“Sit forward a little,” Mike coached as he bunched up and readied the t-shirt he'd hastily pulled from the drawer. “Come on… Work with me, Peter!” He nodded when the laboring man barely moved. 

“I'm trying!” Peter groaned. 

“Try… harder!” Mike grunted back. 

“Fuck you!”

 “Gentlemen…” Burly cautioned. 

“We're doing… the best we can… here, officer,” Mike replied for himself and Peter as he worked the unexpectedly tight shirt over and down the laboring man's bloated, sweat-soaked torso. 

After getting the shirt as “on” as he could, without asking Peter to move or take off his jockstrap, Mike managed to work a pair of shorts as high up the laboring content creator's wide spread legs as he could, leaving the officers to finish the job when the time came (if they could, or would even bother trying.) As soon as he'd gotten Peter as “suitably dressed” as was possible, the now frazzled midhusband stepped back from the bed and hurried about the room to gather the rest of his things. 

“Yeah, so, um… Good luck, Peter!” He called over his left shoulder as he all but ran out of the office. “I'll get your money back ASAP!” He promised again. 

A few seconds later, Peter heard the front door open and shut. Mike was gone, leaving him and the triplets, who were now trying to exit him at an expedited rate thanks to the herbal tonic, alone with the police officers. 

Once again, Burly nudged Skinny, who once again startled, then moved to the left side of the bed to try and get Peter up. Unsurprisingly, he didn't succeed, though with much effort and several grunts, he did manage to briefly get the laboring man leaned forward enough to be able to cuff his hands behind his back. 

“You can't be serious?!” Peter wailed as he collapsed back against the pillows and now also his arms and hands. “I'm in freakin’ labor!” He moaned as his massive belly heaved and jolted. 

For the next few seconds, Skinny and Burly went back to silently staring at his still mostly exposed pregnancy. Eventually, Burly once again shook himself from his stupor and cleared his throat. 

“You'll be seen by the medic as soon as you've been booked,” he promised again, sounding like he needed to convince himself of what he needed to do next. 

Peter's legs felt like Jell-O as he was dragged to his swollen feet, the officers both groaning to either bloated side as they strained to support his ungainly mass. The laboring man's heaving pregnancy looked and felt like a boulder as his volleyball-sized tits wobbled and bobbled around atop it. 

The clothes Mike had hastily stuffed him in barely contained him. The t-shirt left over half his belly out, and even after Skinny had pulled the shorts up as high as he could, the top third of Peter's pregnancy-fattened ass remained exposed. Even though his pregnancy wasn't fully exposed, every heave, quake and lurch it made as he was slowly taken outside to the cruiser the officers had arrived in, was visible. 

“Oh God!” Peter cried as he was led down the driveway. “They're coming! Now!” He groaned as he nearly collapsed, causing Skinny and Burly to both grunt as they took on even more of his weight. 

“Yeah, yeah…” Burly grunted as he opened the back door of the cruiser. “Get in!”

 Peter could hardly move under his own power, let alone get into the backseat of a sedan. Both officers had to more than help cram him into the back of the cruiser but working together, they managed, if just barely. 

Peter tried but failed to get into a position that didn't make him feel like he was about to explode. His belly and breasts bulged out over him since he was too scared to fully sit. The pressure inside him seemed to be surging downward now, and it felt like the first baby was already in position, its overgrown head wedged painfully between Peter's spread legs and widened hips. 

This isn't happening, is it? Peter asked himself as he huffed and puffed. I can't give birth in jail or at the hospital! I put SO MUCH into dragging this pregnancy out! TOO MUCH! I HAVE to give birth on the livestream and get the rest of the money!

He moaned. “Ugh… You don't know… what you're doing!” He huffed as he felt his next contraction starting to build. 

Burly, who was driving, remained focused on the task, but Skinny was intently watching Peter through the rearview mirror. The laboring soon-to-be inmate glared back at him as sweat dripped down his increasingly red face. 

“You're ruining… everything!” He groaned, his huge belly heaving and jerking forcefully as his next contraction hit. 

It was so strong, it caused Peter to arch his back. Milk started to seep through his shirt to the point that all of a sudden, it was dripping through. 

“Anything that's been ruined is your own fault,” Burly replied. “There are consequences for breaking the law.”

 “My case was… dismissed!” Peter shouted as he fought hard against the urge to push as milk continued to gush from his breasts. 

Burly shrugged. Either he didn't believe Peter or he simply didn't care. Whatever the case, it didn't make a difference. 

Within minutes, Peter's shirt became totally saturated with sweat and milk. With nowhere else to go, rivers of warm cream began running down his belly, then onto the seat of the cruiser before making its way to the floorboard. Skinny was still staring at him, his gaze transitioning to one far more lecherous and nefarious, but Peter was too worried, uncomfortable and otherwise preoccupied to notice. 

Even after his most recent contraction ended, he experienced no relief. The pressure within the twenty-eight year old's hot, bloated and overloaded body, continued to increase as he again tried to adjust himself, but he didn't have the space or energy. The front of Peter's belly was just a few inches from touching the partition between the front and back seats of the cruiser, making him look (and feel) all the more massive. Even though his bulbous abdomen wasn't contracting at the moment, the urge/need to push was becoming harder and harder to fight. 

“Oh, God… Oh, no!” Peter moaned as he felt a familiar sensation he'd been hoping he wouldn't. 

As his insides churned, a small hiss of air suddenly squeaked from between his ass cheeks, echoing off the vinyl beneath him. Having given birth five times before, Peter now knew quite well when his water was about to break so he knew that time had come again…

“I'm warning you!” Burly barked over Peter's continued, inadvertent release of air. “A fart can and will be considered assault against an officer, so I'd cut that out if I were you!”

“I can't!” Peter groaned. “I wish… My… My… I… You need to pull over, NOW!”

Burly grunted as he looked back at him in the mirror. “I give the orders, not you!”

“But my water…”

“You can have all the water you want when we get to the…”

“No! MY WATER!”

 “What water?”

 Peter was about to explain to the idiot what “water” he was actually referring to, but rather than words, a hoarse groan came from between his lips as at the same time, a big, loud and wet fart came from between his cheeks. 

“Jesus Christ !” Burly grimaced. “I'm not playing with you!” He yelled. “Stop that or…”

He didn't get to finish when all of a sudden, there was a very loud bang. Somehow, Peter managed to work his feet from the floor and slam them against the partition, splitting his shorts down the middle in the back in the process. No sooner were his feet in place when a tidal wave of amniotic fluid started shooting out of his ass. 

Burly thought they'd come under attack. He suddenly ducked as he drove, swerving to try and evade the presumed attacker. Despite his best efforts, the “shots” kept coming… 

“What the fuck?!” He shouted. “Radio for backup!” He yelled at Skinny. 

Skinny shook his head as he stared back in the mirror in disbelief as Peter continued spraying his side of the partition with the force of a fire hose. “His water! It's HIS water!” He shouted back. “It just broke! I mean it's… it's BREAKING!!!”

“ARE YOU FUCKIN’ SHITTIN’ ME?!” Burly yelled as he slammed his right palm against the wheel. “DAMN IT! WE JUST GOT THE CRUISER BACK FROM GETTING CLEANED AFTER THAT DRUNK PUKED HIS GUTS OUT IN BACK!!!”

“I told you… to… pull over,” Peter panted out as his flow suddenly stopped. 

Immediately, he knew exactly why… 

The first baby's head had dropped further, preventing the remaining gallons of fluid he still contained from continuing to spill. That was actually good, but if history was any indicator, Peter knew he was rapidly running out of time… For at least his three last deliveries, once his water broke, he was pushing within minutes. Fifteen at most.

Not that he hadn't been expecting them to, but now it was ABUNDANTLY clear that the babies were definitely coming. 

“No, please!” Peter groaned as he let his head flop back against the seat. “No… Please stay in there!” 

*****

Peter had to be dragged out of the cruiser and into the station, now totally unable to move on his own. It was obvious that Burly was furious with him for having trashed the back of his precious cruiser. As he, Peter, the triplets and Skinny all staggered into the booking area, officers and perps alike, all turned and gawked. 

Every and anyone forgot what they were doing or why they were there, even the clerk that the officers dragged Peter over to once it was their turn to book him. 

“Peter… Pryce,” Burly announced, himself breathing quite heavily now. 

The clerk continued to just sit there and stare. Not at Burly, but at Peter, of course and the sorry state he was in. 

“Come on, now!” Burly barked. “He needs to be booked and seen by the medic ASAP!”

“The medic?!” The clerk scoffed. “He needs to be at the damn hospital! What the hell were you thinking bringing him…”

“Just fuckin’ book him, man!” Burly yelled as Peter sagged more at his already straining side. 

“Oh God… Oh God!” He groaned, suddenly folding forward over his belly, Burly and Skinny almost losing him in the process, just managing to keep him on his feet. 

“I'm calling the Captain!” The clerk said as he reached for the phone on his desk. “This isn't right!” He said over Peter's latest groan as he dialed. 

“OH FUCKIN’ SHUT UP!” Burly turned and screamed at Peter. “YOU'RE HAVIN’ A FEW BABIES… BIG FUCKIN’ DEAL!!!” He bellowed before turning back and directing his fury at the clerk. “NOW ARE YOU GONNA DO YOUR DAMN JOB OR NOT?!”

 “UNLIKE YOU, I AM DOING MY JOB!” The clerk shouted before dipping his chin and speaking directly into the phone. “Captain! I need you back at the station, stat! We have a…” he hesitated. “A situation with an intake that requires you…” he paused to listen. “No, not yet, but… OK, sir. Yes, I understand, but… Alright, fine,” he sighed as he ended the call, shaking his head in dismay.

“So..?” Burly said, brows as high as they went on his tightly scrunched and now very red face. 

“The Captain's on his way back now,” the clerk said, shaking his head some more as he stared at Peter. “He said to…”

“Book him, maybe?”

 The clerk raised and set his gaze on Burly. “Yeah,” he nodded. “He said to book him, if you're sure that's what you want to do?”

“It is!”

“Alright?” He sighed. “Something tells me you're gonna regret it…” he predicted. 

“You're gonna regret it if you don't hurry the hell up!” Burly huffed. “This guy weighs a fuckin’ ton!”

 *****

Even though the clerk seemed to actually be on Peter's side, the booking process was tedious. All throughout, Peter was hardly cognizant of where he was anymore, let alone what was going on if it wasn't happening within him. His face was flushed and dripping with sweat, tears poured down his cheeks and snot ran from his nose as his mugshot was taken. 

The contractions were getting stronger and closer together. Every time Peter's belly clenched, it pushed all three of the babies a little lower. 

“Hooooo… Haaaaaa…” he panted through the pain, doing everything he could not to push. 

Awkwardly, Peter wriggled his still cuffed hands lower. As they grazed his crack, he could tell that already, his cheeks had started to spread from the force of the contractions and all the pressure alone. If Peter so much as sneezed or coughed, he was sure the first baby would crown! 

Hell, the whole thing would probably just shoot right out?! But he couldn't give birth now, not here! He had to get back home and back on the livestream, but how, and what the hell was he supposed to do till then?! The first thing was going to do was let Skinny and Burly fully support him, because seriously, fuck them! 

“Nnngggh…” he groaned as they grunted while they waited to be told which cell to bring him to. 

When his destination was finally determined, the officers slowly dragged Peter away from the booking desk. As they did, to his left, Skinny's right hand started to wander… No one seemed to notice as it explored and rubbed Peter's sweaty, heaving swell, and he was in too much pain to complain or voice his additionally inappropriate treatment. 

When they finally reached his assigned cell, all three men grunted as the laboring inmate was slowly and awkwardly lowered to the bench inside. Immediately, Peter slumped back against the wall, again too afraid to fully sit on his ass and increase the pressure there. He squirmed, groaned and panted as Burly and Skinny exited the cell, slamming and locking the door behind them. 

As he closed his eyes, Peter let out a pained and mournful moan. After everything he'd done to get to this point, he couldn't believe this was happening… He couldn't believe he was now once again back to trying not to give birth?!

When he opened his eyes, in his periphery, the twenty-eight year old saw the blurry image of other inmates and officers gawking at him. He couldn't blame them. That being said, he didn't want or need to see what a spectacle he was so he closed his eyes again and tried to focus on breathing through all the pressure and pain as he continued to will himself not to push. 

*****

Time seemed to cease to exist as Peter “sat” there, constantly whining and rocking as he truly and utterly strained to keep the triplets inside him. Though he'd been given a cell to himself, whenever he opened his eyes, all others remained on him, everyone compelled to stare at the troubling sight of him, this massively pregnant, obviously laboring, barely dressed man. 

He was the most pregnant person any and everyone present had ever seen. Regardless of how high, drunk, or otherwise fucked up as they were, most, if not all of the inmates who could see Peter, made a mental note to be sure to wear a condom the next time they fucked someone, because fuck!

After having five since arriving at the jail, Peter stopped counting his contractions. Even though he stopped counting, there was simply no ignoring the fact that they continued to get closer together and stronger, let alone the effect they were having… Every time one hit, he not only wanted to push, he wanted to scream, but he just kept moaning, whining, crying, rocking and groaning, not that any of the above was much help. 

Suddenly, over all the noise he was making, he heard a door being unlocked. His door… Peter opened his eyes, blinked them a few times, and then focused his gaze on the exit to his prison. 

Two men he hadn't seen before entered his cell. They were deep in quiet conversation with one another as Burly and Skinny filed in after them. One of the men was obviously an officer, a bigger and burlier one than Burly. Had Peter not been so everything he was presently, he would've taken at least a moment to appreciate the sight of such a fine, male specimen, but needless to say, he didn't since he couldn't. 

As soon as this new officer turned and looked from the other man, who was dressed in scrubs, and saw Peter, he stopped dead in his tracks. Aside from the laboring man's labored breaths, all of a sudden, one could've heard a pin drop in the cell. 

Quickly, the officer looked down and double-checked the paperwork he was holding. “Mr. Pryce… My name is Captain Johnson. I, um… I…” he briefly fumbled before clearing his throat. “I received a call from intake earlier and was asked to come in and, uh…” faltered again. “Assess the situation, and determine if you should've been brought here, or taken directly to the hospital,” he explained, suddenly letting his surprisingly kind eye contact drop from Peter, down to the ground. 

Peter wasn't about to take any “kindness” directed his way, for granted. He wasn't sure what, if any good it would do him, but he decided to inform the Captain of his extreme displeasure and discomfort to the best of his waning abilities. 

“I'M IN FUCKING LABOR WITH TRIPLETS!!!” He roared. 

“Yes… I, uh…” Captain Johnson faltered again. “I can see that,” he needlessly confirmed with a nod before turning to the medic. “Suarez?”

 The medic quickly stepped forward but then almost immediately stopped, like he was afraid to touch, let alone look, at Peter, both of which he was… 

“Captain, I…” Suarez shook his head. “He shouldn't be here! He's… I… I can't handle this!” He shook his head some more. “He…”

Captain Johnson took in a short breath as he briefly closed his eyes. “Pretty sure I know the answer to this…” he exhaled. “But would this have been evident while…”

“You're having triplets?” Suarez asked Peter, who nodded. “When WERE they due?”

 “NOW!!!” The laboring twenty-eight year old roared, not exactly answering the question honestly, but given the situation… 

“Yes, Captain,” Suarez said as he turned, looked up at and nodded at the towering man. “It would've been evident at the time of the arrest, even if it happened DAYS ago!” He stressed with a roll of his frazzled eyes. 

Hulking and towering Captain Johnson suddenly wheeled around and immediately started in on Burly and Skinny. “What THE FUCK were you two IDIOTS thinking, bringing him here like this?!” He roared. “This is a liability! A literally HUGE liability!” He needlessly stressed as he turned to look at Peter again. 

While Skinny and Burly remained justifiably silent, Peter did not… He let out a loud, low and long groan, that caused everyone who wasn't already, to stare at him. 

“We need to get Mr. Pryce out of here before he… before he blows!” The Captain said. 

“Sir..?” Suarez said quietly as he nodded towards what they could see of Peter's soaked as they were ruined shorts. “Looks like it's a little too late for that!”

“Christ…” Johnson groaned as he turned back on Burly. “Radio EMS right away!” He instructed through now tightly clenched teeth. “Once you have, you two go and wait for me in my office,” he told his subordinates before turning back to look at Peter and pausing once again. “You have my… sincere apologies, Mr. Pryce. I promise you now, we'll get this situation rectified as soon as possible, you have my word,” he nodded. 

“How little is that worth? I'd like a value put on it, ‘cause he's gonna have a hell of a lot more than that once I'm through with you!” A “new” voice firmly but evenly promised. 

Everyone, Peter included, turned and/or focused their gaze on the cell door as Richard strode through it, followed by another officer, who looked like he'd been trying to stop him. 

“Sir, I…” the latest officer to enter the cell began to explain to the Captain, who promptly held up his left hand, effectively cutting him off. 

“Who are you, sir?” He asked Richard. 

“Your obviously, improperly detained inmate's husband and attorney,” Richard replied. “Those are my babies and husband you and your department have put at risk!” He shouted. 

“Sir, I… I'm still trying to not only figure out, but RECTIFY HOW AND WHY Mr. Pryce was…”

“Why was he even arrested?” Richard asked as he hurried over to Peter. “Our case was dismissed!” 

“I'm sorry, sir…” Johnson tried again. “According to the information the department had on file, the…”

“Captain Johnson..?” A now seething Richard cut in. “Not only would I save my breath for the sake of it, I'd do so in order to try and save my job!” He said as he worked as much of himself as he could  under Peter's arm. “Come on, Pete… Let's go while these PIGS try to sort out the mess they've gotten themselves into!”

Eager as Peter was to get the hell out of there, doing so remained easier said than done… Working around/with Richard, he planted his still cuffed hands on the bench behind him as his feet fumbled on the floor. Peter braced himself to stand but then his next contraction hit, making him collapse against Richard. 

His hole burned as his cheeks began to spread more. The first baby was starting to crown…

“Mr. Pryce!” Suarez shouted. “The head is…”

“I FUCKING KNOW!!!” Peter screamed, hugging what he could of his massive middle as it and the rest of his body trembled in protest. 

“Sirs…” Suarez said, looking between Richard and Peter. “I think we need to do this right here, right now!” He nodded. 

“EMS is on the way,” Burly sheepishly informed. “Five minutes out.”

“Cancel the call,” Richard glared at him. “I'm taking him to the hospital.”

Peter shook his head repeatedly, sending sweat and spittle flying. “No!” He rasped out. “Take me… home.”

Suarez looked aghast. Richard hesitated. “Pete, I…”

“Please!” He begged, tears in his eyes. 

Richard sighed. “OK, fine. Let's go.”

 *****

Thank God, Richard was strong. He did the majority of the work getting Peter up, though Suarez finally stepped forward and dared to touch him and helped. Once he was as balanced as he could be, Captain Johnson stepped forward and undid  the laboring twenty-eight year old handcuffs. After he had, Peter proceeded out of the cell at a very slow and awkward waddle. As he did, still fully supporting him, Richard managed to work his jacket off and haphazardly tucked it into the waistband of his ex's ruined shorts, at least covering his butt. 

Peter's belly remained out on full display. Though they were technically covered, his breasts were also fully visible as his t-shirt had been rendered completely transparent from all his sweating and leaking. Peter's nipples bulged against the thin material as they continued to gush, more than ever now since he was moving. 

As he and Richard exited the jail, once again, whatever they were doing, people stopped to gawk and stare. There were more mutters and gasps as they made it out to the parking lot, Peter moaning, groaning and panting the whole time, feeling like he was about to either drop dead, or start dropping babies onto the asphalt. 

“Ohmygod, Peter?!” Came a familiar voice off to the left. 

It was Brad and he was running. He came to an abrupt stop next to the two (plus) men, leaned forward and put his hands on his thighs as he caught his breath. Peter and Richard didn't stop. 

“I got here… as soon as I… could!” Brad huffed. 

“That's great… Now are you… gonna gimme a hand or not?” Richard grunted out. 

Brad nodded as he straightened back up. It didn't take him long to catch up with Richard and Peter as they hadn't made it much further. 

“Here you go, babe,” he said as he gently took Peter's left hand from his belly and worked himself under his arm. 

Richard glared at him behind Peter's drooping head. You're calling him babe, now, after you all but abandoned him?! He internally seethed, because now wasn't the time for any more drama. 

Peter released a blubbering sigh as he was relieved of some of his incredible weight. Brad grunted as he took it. 

“So what's the… plan?” He asked as they continued across the parking lot, and Richard hadn't even parked that far away. 

“Hospital,” Richard replied as Peter moaned loudly again. 

Not that they all hadn't for quite some time, but now that it was rapidly (relatively speaking) descending, the lowest triplet felt particularly huge. Peter's contractions were now coming almost back to back, so between them and waddling, he could hardly breathe. 

It was never more apparent that he needed to go to the hospital, but no. He still wasn't going to allow it. Not after everything. No fucking way. 

“Home!” He panted. “Not… hospital,” he shook his head between the two men fully supporting him, one of whose babies were about to start blasting right out of him. 

“OK, home,” Richard reluctantly amended. 

He knew why Peter wanted/needed to give birth there, but he wasn't sure if Brad did? As such, Richard fully expected some kickback, but surprisingly didn't receive any. Instead, Brad simply replied, 

“Home it is!”

Richard instantly found that odd. He didn't know a whole lot about the younger man, other than his ex-husband seemed to run all over him, so maybe Brad was just agreeable? Or maybe he just had the sense to know better than to argue right now? Either way, Richard didn't say anything. Not yet, anyway…

“Jesus Christ, Rich… ard! Where the… hell did you… park?!” Peter gasped. 

“Here,” Richard grunted back as he fumbled in his pocket for his keys to open his minivan's closest sliding door. 

They were almost there. Just twenty or so more feet, then Peter could finally get off his. He could do this. He had to…

Some ten feet from the van, his next contraction hit, even harder and more painful than the last. Peter howled in agony as his knees gave out, causing Richard and Brad to both stumble and struggle to keep him somewhat upright. Milk gushed from Peter's breasts as his chin got lost between them. 

“Gaaaaahhh!!!” He wailed, clenching his ass as best he could, trying (seemingly in vain) to keep the first baby from dropping any lower. 

“Come on, babe… You've got this!” Brad encouraged. 

Knowing no one was paying him any attention, Richard shook his head and rolled his eyes. He wasn't about to let Brad outdo him though, so he said,

“Almost there, Pete. You can do it!”

Peter vehemently disagreed in the form of another wail. “NO, I… CAAAAAAN'T!!!”

It no longer mattered that he was only ten feet from his ride home… He could've been ten miles from it and it wouldn't have made a difference because he still needed to make his way home, which would take several more minutes, and suddenly, he wasn't sure he was going to last several more seconds before just giving up, squatting, and starting to push. 

“I… I need to…” he huffed. “I'm just gonna… nnnnnghhh!!!” He groaned. “Just gonna start… push…”

“You can't, Pete!” Richard stressed, his voice even but firm. “You know why!” He quickly reminded. 

Brad scoffed. “Richard! If he…”

“NO!” The former couple cut him off in loud unison. 

“He's… right,” Peter panted as thankfully, his latest contraction began to subside. He shook his head before letting out a grunt and sending as much of his waning strength as he could to his legs. “I have to… get home.”

“But…”

“HOME, BRAD!!!” He roared. 

“OK!”

“Hurry!” Peter pleaded as he took a painfully small step forward, somehow having mustered the energy to actually pull his helpers along, if only just a step. 

Just a little longer… Peter silently told himself. I can do it. I've already made it this far!

*****

It felt like it took another five minutes to make it to the van, but in reality, it only took a fraction of the time. Getting Peter turned around so he could back into the van was another story though… That did take several minutes and a lot of help from Richard and Brad, during which he experienced another awful contraction. 

Once Peter was seated, Richard hurried around to his seat and moved it forward as far as it went. After he had, he and Brad helped Peter, who was nearly delirious by then, brace his feet against the back of it. Richard raced back around to the driver's seat while Brad ran around to the other captain's chair in the middle row and sat on/in the booster seat there. 

The minivan's engine thrummed to life and Richard sped forward out of the spot. Finally, they were on their way back to the house, but peter didn't know if he'd still have all three babies in him by the time they got there? 

“Oh God, Richard!” He moaned. “I can't! I fucking have to…”

“Hold on, Pete,” Richard said as he tore out of the lot, just as an ambulance tore into it, lights flashing. 

Hold on… That's exactly what he'd been doing ever since Burly and Skinny had shown up and screwed everything up! Peter grunted and groaned through another contraction, the urge to push almost impossible to ignore. All of a sudden he yelped as he felt the head starting to crown lurch lower, maybe just a fraction of an inch, but still…

Peter reached between his legs and cupped at the bulge between his cheeks as tears and sweat poured down his other cheeks. “Haaaaa! Haaaaaaa!” He panted, struggling to breathe. 

“We're almost there, babe,” Brad announced as he reached over and grabbed his other hand. 

Needless to say, he and Peter still weren't on good terms. As such, the laboring man shouldn't have let him hold his hand, but he ended up being glad he did when another contraction hit, forcing the first baby's head at least an inch out this time. 

Peter threw his own head back and screamed. As his pained, high-pitched shout echoed throughout the minivan, he squeezed the utter shit out of his (ex?) boyfriend/maybe baby daddy's hand, determined to send as much of his pain and pressure there as he could. Yes, Peter had done most of this to himself, but someone deserved to experience even just a fraction of his agony. Sorry, Brad (but then again, not really…)

“We're here!” Richard said as he eased the minivan to a stop in his former driveway, then hastily threw it in park. 

It was only then Peter realized they'd made it home. Now, he had to get inside…

*****

The one part of his body he actually wanted to feel at the moment: his legs, had gone entirely numb during the ride. The one part Peter didn't want to feel: his hole, was now on more fire than ever. Add in the fact that the first baby's head was now partially out of him, made the laboring man's extraction from the minivan and then the waddle to the house all the more awkward and excruciating. 

Peter had to stop every few steps. Every time he did, he squeezed Richard and Brad's locked elbows extra tight for support as he now used both hands to cup his ass, desperately attempting to hold everything in and together for a few more moments. 

Somehow, Peter still couldn't fathom how large the baby's head was, let alone how huge he'd grown the triplets in general. He alternated between worrying about giving birth off-camera and worrying about the first baby getting stuck, unable to proceed out of him naturally due to its massiveness. 

“T-thanks for… coming to… get me,” he haltingly said to Richard as the group hobbled into the house in a relatively single file line. 

They'd barely made it into the foyer when he had to stop again. A long groan gurgled up and out of Peter's throat as milk and sweat started dripping down onto the floor beneath him. 

“Of course,” Richard replied. 

Needless to say, Peter wasn't exactly thinking straight at the moment… “How'd you… know I got… arrested?” He asked as he started hobbling forward again. Even though his belly was contracting, the office was just down the hall, so now wasn't the time to stop. 

Richard grunted as he threw Brad a wary look over Peter's slumped shoulders. “How do you think I knew?” He quietly replied. 

Peter grunted back, then grunted again as they reached the office door and they were forced to stop since it was too narrow for them to proceed through single file since he wouldn't be able to fit through it turned to the side. Richard entered first, momentarily leaving Peter without his support. As a result, Brad was forced to take the brunt of his weight, causing Peter to turn and look at him as he slowly and carefully proceeded through the now seemingly very narrow doorway.

“But what about… you?” He asked, frowning at Brad, not fully from discomfort or exhaustion, but also the realization something seemed amiss, but what?

Did Brad know about the livestreams?

If he did, he didn't say so. In fact, he ignored the question and instead replied, “Come on, let's get you onto the bed, babe.”

Ohmygod, yes, the bed! That's where Peter needed to be. It was so close and yet seemingly, still so far away, so instead of re-asking his question as he should've, he focused on getting there. 

“Wait…” he croaked out after he'd been turned and led over to his side of the mattress, just before “his men” were about to ease him onto it to ruin it. “I want… everything off, please,” he requested. 

“You mean you want to be naked?” Brad asked, sounding excited rather than surprised. 

“Yes,” Peter confirmed with a weak nod. 

“Are you sure about that?” Richard asked, sounding slightly jealous. 

The laboring content creator nodded again as he swayed on his unsteady legs. “I'm barely dressed as it is… I'm soaked and I'm burning up. I…”

“He really is, Richard,” Brad nodded in unnecessary agreement as he reached over and touched Peter's forehead with the back of his closest hand. 

Professionally speaking, at least, Richard didn't lose often. That being said, he knew when he'd been beaten, so he nodded and then he and Brad set to stripping Peter down to nothing, another task that proved difficult now that what little clothing he had on was pasted to him. Two contractions later, they finally got him onto the bed and into position, and not a moment too soon. 

“My…computer,” Peter wheezed out to Brad through his next painful contraction. “Make sure the… camera's still run… nnngggh!!! OoooOooh!!!” He groaned as his belly rolled and clenched, the first baby crowning slightly more even though he'd still yet to actually push. 

“Don't worry about your computer,” his maybe baby daddy shook his head as he took his phone from his pocket, aimed it at him and started taking pictures. “I'll use my phone to record.”

 “Damn it, Brad!” Peter groaned as he rolled his eyes. 

He didn't know how, let alone want to explain everything to him?! Now certainly wasn't the time, anyway! He just needed his camera up and running, not Brad's!

“Please! Just… just do it!” He begged through tightly clenched teeth as the contraction continued barreling through him. 

All of a sudden (not really though, all things considered,) the first triplet's head fully emerged. Peter screamed in agony as he was stretched painfully wide for the next several excruciating seconds but simultaneously found himself relieved. He was also just as concerned though since the livestream had yet to resume…

“My phone will be just fine,” Brad said slowly and evenly as he moved down between Peter's legs. 

“No, it… won't!” Peter groaned. “Turn on the… computer!”

Brad didn't react other than to take a few more pictures, capturing the laboring twenty-eight year old at a less than flattering angle. Since he still assumed only he knew the reason the computer needed to be on, Richard moved to do so, but then Brad spoke again and when he did, he suddenly really didn't sound like himself… He sounded so calm, confident and articulate, compared to his usually blasé demeanor. 

“It will, because my payment more than covered your efforts without the additional funding of the livestream.”

All Peter gathered from what just said in the moment was that he did know about his online “career.” He'd already guessed he might so honestly, he couldn't say he was very surprised, or that he even cared. Peter had already admitted not knowing who'd fathered the triplets and to being “with” Richard again anyway, so the damage was already done, to the point there might be no coming back from it.

“I hope you agree,” Brad continued. “Because I'd much prefer a relatively private show,” he said as he looked at Richard and frowned. 

Now, Peter had confirmation that Brad knew, but that's where his understanding of the situation ended. What was Brad talking about, “his payment?”

During their time together, Brad had never paid Peter a dime. All he contributed was bringing or sending over food, which yes, was a nice and generous contribution, especially as of late, and especially considering Brad's lack of income, but no actual money had ever changed hands. Hell, Brad still hadn't purchased one thing for the triplets he'd thought till quite recently, definitely belonged to him! 

Quite belatedly, Peter realized something strange was afoot, but he couldn't give it any more thought as a foot belonging to the baby highest up in him, nailed him right in the lung. All of a sudden, he was coughing/screaming again as his next contraction hit, and fighting hard to keep the first baby to be born in him till the livestream was back up and running! 

More milk gushed from his nipples as his tits wobbled about atop his heaving pregnancy, which was now glistening with sweat. Only when the contraction ended, thankfully, with no more of the baby having exited him, and Peter quieted down (some) as he gasped for breath, did Brad speak again. 

“I guess it's time I finally tell you,” he said nonchalantly, now filming between the content creator's legs, his phone's cameras aimed at the top of the head hanging between them, causing his fat lower cheeks to bulge to an extra degree. 

Not only did Brad want to capture this sight, he wanted to capture Peter's reaction to what he was about to say. Before he continued, he raised his phone and made sure the cameras were focused on the twenty-eight year old's flushed and sweaty mess of a still handsome face (and his tits and as much of his belly as he could fit in the frame, of course.)

“So the truth is, I'm not some lowly stock boy at the grocery store, Peter,” Brad shook his head. “I'm the owner. I own the entire chain, actually,” he informed with a proud grin. 

Eyes clouded with tears, sweat and confusion, Peter looked over his heaving breasts and belly at him, then whipped his head over to look at Richard. His typically composed and ready for anything ex, looked just as confused as he did, as well as more than a little concerned…

“W-what're you… t-telling me?” Peter choked out as he naturally looked at and into the camera aimed at him, like he'd trained himself to do. “I d-don't understand?”

“Yeah, I know you don't!” Brad laughed. “Which I can't help but consider IMMENSELY ironic given the fact YOU thought I wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed… That made all this A LOT easier for me, so thanks!” He smirked and winked. “But like I said,” he sighed. “It's time I tell you…”

“Tell him WHAT, exactly?!” Richard loudly demanded. 

“Whoa there, prosecutor!” Brad cautioned the attorney. “Hold your horses…”

The oldest man in the room scoffed. Again, Richard wasn't used to losing (especially not in the field of law, which Brad had called back into play.) “Now isn't the time for games you fucking idiot!” He shouted. “Pete is…”

“Peter is about to blow. I know…”

Richard scoffed again. “Well now that we know you know about the livestreams, allow me to enlighten you as to why it's SO IMPORTANT that Pete…”

“Oh, I know that too!” Brad promptly cut back in before pausing. “Are you seriously not getting this either?!” He asked as he briefly aimed the back of his phone at Richard. 

Unsurprisingly, he had little to no interest in the other man, other than how much his disdain piqued it. But if Richard really wanted to continue to try and stake his claim on Peter, Brad wasn't about to stop him, figuring he'd get some pleasure from his desperation as well…

“Any and everything I possibly could, I planned out,” he informed the former couple, forcing his phone between them. “I added boatloads of hormones, appetite enhancers, and various fats and oils to all of Peter's food,” he continued. “When I found out he was pregnant with triplets!” He verbally paused to huff. “I'll admit… I almost lost my mind! I am Peter's biggest fan, after all!” He lecherously grinned at the pair as he nodded. 

When they turned to look at each other again, Richard and Peter found themselves both looking utterly and equally shocked and horrified. For the next several moments, they forgot that the latter was in very fucking active labor, as they tried to process all Brad had just said, and what it entailed. 

“I've been watching you online since the beginning, Peter,” he went on. “As soon as I saw you, I told myself that someday, somehow, I'd have you to myself and finally, I did!” He nodded, grinned and laughed. “You can't even begin to imagine my delight when you popped up on the dating app after your divorce!” He said to Peter. “I knew my time had come!” He nodded some more. “But then you had to come back and fuck everything up!” He groaned as he glared at Richard over his phone. 

“Oh my…” Peter started to say. 

“Needless to say!” Brad cut him off. “I'm going to be very, very disappointed if it turns out I wasn't the one to knock you up,” he shook his head. “But if I didn't, maybe we can try again?” He suggested with another wink and shrug. 

As everything finally, finally, fully came together, the laboring twenty-eight year old let out a ragged sob as both his nipples spurted again, further soaking his heaving pregnancy. “Y-you're TryAndMakeYouBlow?!”

“Try and make you, indeed,” Brad nodded. “Fortunately, I didn't succeed,” he winked. “But I'd like to think I came pretty damn close, no?!” He laughed some more.

“Jesus Christ… YOU'RE the one who paid Pete to do this?!” He asked, aghast. “D-don't you… Didn't you… love him?!”

“Meh…” the grocery store chain owner shrugged again. “Him? Not so much… That belly though..?” He chuckled as he aimed his phone back at it. “And let's not forget about what this pregnancy did to those tits and that ass!” He grunted. “But yeah, it was me,” he confirmed. “I have a check for the remaining $9 million right here,” he said as he gave the right front pocket of his jeans a pat. “Surprise!”

 Surprise, in-fucking-deed! 

From the admittedly (very) greedy and ill-advised onset of the arrangement, Peter had been very curious about the identity of his “generous” benefactor, but now that he knew it was Brad, all it caused him was more questions?! If anything, it made the situation all the more weird and creepy, so it was somewhat fortunate that Peter didn't have the time, energy, or wherewithal to contemplate it any further… 

As he let out another hoarse groan, he tucked his chin between his once again gushing tits, and started to push. The result was instantaneous. 

“Nnnnnnnnghh!!! Oooooh, Richard!” Peter moaned. “Fuck the… livestream! Get down there and… catch the… the baby!”

“Yeah, that's right…” Brad said as he stepped further between Peter's legs. “Fuck the livestream…” he nodded. “‘Cause it's NOT happening!” He switched to shaking. “Not only that…” he continued. “You're wrong about HIM catching the baby,” he said. “Just yet, anyway…”

“What the FUCK are you talking about, you freak?!” Richard shouted. “You better be outta my FUCKING WAY by the time I get down there!” He said as he hurried down to the foot of the bed, ready and willing to physically fight the younger man if it came to that. 

Just before things came to blows between Peter's potential baby daddies, with his phone-free hand, Brad reached out and did something shocking… So much so that it caused Richard to come to as dead of a stop as it was shocked, in his tracks. 

Brad extended his free hand, palm wide open, and without warning, proceeded to “gently” but quickly (and forcefully) shove the first baby back inside of Peter?!

“Ohmygod?! Ohmygod!” Richard shouted again. “What the…”

While he did actually finish what he was saying, no one heard him do so, himself included. Not only the office, but the entire house, suddenly filled and echoed with Peter's scream, which was so pained and shrill, it was truly a miracle that it didn't shatter any windows or make any ears bleed. 

Halfway through his scream, as his burning hole did its best to close back behind the first triplet's head, Peter's voice broke. At the same time, at least another gallon of amniotic fluid sputtered out of him (which Brad just so happened to “perfectly” captured on “film.”) With no more voice at the moment, only a raspy hiss of air exited his throat as his belly bloated back up again, and all three of the triplets started thrashing about within it like never before, sending his pregnancy and chest all into a frantic, wobbling tizzy. 

“Ohmygod!” Richard said again, his eyes bulging out of their sockets almost as much as his ex-husband's belly was again. “Oh my FUCKING God?! W-what did you just…” he paused to literally gasp and shake his head. “Do, and WHY?!” He yelled from over Brad's left shoulder. 

“Just making sure I get my money's worth!” Brad said as he stepped out of his way, sauntered over and sat down next to the computer, which remained off. 

The refilled twenty-eight year old moaned in pained and total disbelief as he looked beyond his wobbling breasts, to his heaving belly, and then to Richard. Had Brad SERIOUSLY just done that?! Oh my God!

“Oh come on, now…” Brad chided. “It wasn't THAT bad, was it?” He asked with a knowing smirk as he aimed his phone at Peter again, making sure to get his angle perfect. 

Richard and peter both stared at him in complete shock and disbelief. Peter groaned loudly again as his next contraction hit because it was easily twice as strong as the previous, his body obviously not happy at having all the “hard work” it'd done undone so relatively easily. 

“OK, now you can push,” Brad said from behind his phone. When Peter didn't do so immediately, he clicked his tongue and nodded. “Come on, now…”

“Ohmygod, Richard!” Peter hoarsely wailed, though it came out more like a raspy whisper. 

Quick as he could, the frazzled attorney took Brad's “place,” just as Peter bore down for the first time. Exhausted as he was, as soon as he did, immediately, Brad's insane efforts started to come undone… 

His first actual push resulted in the first baby's head rapidly reemerging from his now very much loosened (and possibly, ruined) hole. Massive as its overdue cranium, not to mention the rest of it, was, soon, the entire baby practically shot right out of Peter into Richard's waiting arms. 

“Excellent job, both of you,” Brad commended from his perch as Richard cradled the giant newborn boy. “It's like you have some experience when it comes to this…” he chuckled. 

The attorney grunted quietly as he stared down at the now wailing, huge baby boy, wondering if he was his? He hoped so because otherwise, BOTH his fathers would be INSANE!

“Actually, I've never done this before,” he said before he could stop himself, knowing Brad didn't deserve the (additional) satisfaction. “I'm glad you didn't, but I would've thought you would've wanted the honors..?”

“Yeah, no thanks!” Brad chuckled. “I love me some huge, Peter bellies, boobs and butt, but I'll let you be the one to get your hands dirty!”

“Well could you at least hand me the supplies?” Richard requested. “My dirty hands are a little full at the moment!”

 “More than a little!” Brad chuckled again as he stood and grabbed the scissors and other stuff Mike had smartly left behind. “Here,” he said as he handed them over. 

“OoooOooh…” Peter moaned as his belly started to stir again and more amniotic fluid spurted from his hole, soaking the bed beneath it. 

“Just two more to go,” Brad said as he sat back down, aimed his phone at Peter again and did what he'd always intended to: enjoy the rest of the show.