Good Men in the Age of Nanites (Patreon)

 Story and Commission by Alec Tonnerre

Word cobbling by TG Cooper

It would be safe to say, when the idea had first been proposed, none of the men thought it would actually happen.  Or, that any of them would go through with it. They hadn’t taken Harry seriously.  The proposal had come while the old gang of trads was hanging out watching sports, just as they had for many years. There was, however, one difference.

“I can’t believe I’m actually watching women’s soccer,” Brad said as he sipped on his sweaty beer. 

“Better than nothing,” Ray said with a shrug. “There aren’t enough dudes around to keep full seasons of real sports going.”

“Not since Mpreggo came along,” Calvin agreed. He finished off his own beer. The soccer game ended 1-0 in what the announcers called a “mighty defensive battle.”

“Was it good defense or bad offense?” Ray said.

“All I know is at least they have good legs,” Brad said.

The group had gathered in Ray’s backyard. He had a large yard with a wooden deck shaded by a huge, 90-year-old oak tree. A power grill dominated one corner, and on the table were the charred meats that had served as the center of their bonding ritual. A hot summer day, it seemed like everything was sweating, and all of the guys had had a few too many.

“We gonna do this?” Harry asked coming out of the house with a cooler. “Or you all going to pussy out on me?”

The men looked at each other. They were, it seemed, just drunk enough. Calvin snorted. “I’m not scared.”

“Me, neither,” Ray said.

“Let’s go,” Brad said.

“Let me set up the camera first,” Harry said.

“Do we really need to film it?” Calvin said. “My wife might see this shit.”

“It’s a viral challenge, dumbass,” Harry said, setting his phone up to capture the scene. Once he’d double checked the angle, the guys gathered around the cooler and Harry looked at the camera. ”We’re playing EP Roulette. And, yes, we’re all drunk as hell.”

The guys were all fit and in their mid to late thirties. Polo shirts. Cargo shorts. Dudes of the suburbs in other words. Brad was, though, the most fit of them all with dark hair, steely eyes and broad shoulders thick with muscle. Harry opened the cooler, mist rising as the cold air from the ice packs hit the humid summer soup.  They all took a step back, “Dude,” Ray said. “What the hell?”

He reached into the cooler and removed what looked like a dildo. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“It’s part of the challenge,” Harry said with a shrug. “I told you.  Want to chicken out?”

“Not me,” Ray said, picking up a can of beer with his free hand. “But this is the last time I invite you to a party.”

The other men each one by one grabbed one of the applicators from the cooler, and then a beer. They stood in a semi-circle, facing the camera, which Harry now addressed. “So, as we all know, one of these applicators contains the EP Compound, while the others contain sugar pills.

That means…”

“One of you is going to be preggo,” Brad said.

“Why not you?”

“I’m too lucky.”

“Oh, yeah?” Harry said, setting down his applicator and pulling up Brad’s shirt to reveal abs that looked like they’d been carved in stone. Harry started to rub. ”I felt your baby kick!”

‘Shut up,” Brad said, but Ray and Calvin joined in, rubbing his belly as well. “Hey, this could be your baby shower,” Calvin said.

“Congrats to the new mom,” Ray shouted.

Brad, deciding the best thing was to play along, pushed his belly out as far as he could and put his hands on the small of his back. “I’m late for my ultrasound!”

After the laughing and ribbing had died down, the guys once more picked up the phallic applicators. The tension rose and rose as they each considered the possibility that he would be the one who would get the nano virus and face a new and completely different life.

“We gonna do this or what?” Calvin said.

“I don’t know,” Ray said. “Now that it comes down to it…”

They all started to berate and mock him, then each other, and finally Ray called out, “On the count of three, we all go. One… two… three…” In keeping with the EP Challenge, each one took a swig from his drink, put the applicator in his mouth, sucked out the pill, then chugged the rest of his drink. They each felt a little nervous, wondering if he would be the one to get pregnant, but then they heard Brad moaning and looked over, shocked the see Brad with the dildo still in his mouth, eyes closed, cheeks caved in as he sucked hard on the dildo.

“Does that mean…?” Ray asked.

Harry nodded as they all watched, fascinated, relieved and a little unnerved by the fact that

Brad’s nipples now seemed to swell and round, pushing out the front of his t-shirt, looking like plump, female nipples, which then grew hard, straining against his t-shirt. Brad, one hand still on the dildo which he was sucking and licking, put the other hand to his chest and squeezed, his moans growing louder as he arched his back and thrust his ass back.

Ray grabbed Brad’s beer and moved it out of his reach. “I don’t think he’ll be drinking this anymore.”

Brad felt like he was high, stoned, drunk… he wasn’t even fully conscious of what he was doing. The guys pulled the dildo away from him and he lunged after it, desperate to feel it in his mouth.

“Let’s get him home.”

“Is he supposed to act like this?” Calvin asked.

“I haven’t seen it,” Harry said with a shrug. “I may edit the end off the video.”

They helped Brad to Calvin’s car, a BMW SUV with two seat benches in the back. Calvin drove, while Ray sat in back to make sure Brad didn’t do anything crazy like try and jump out of the car. He was acting so crazy. Brad, meanwhile, had gone full on baby crazy, his mind swimming with images of little babies, with their pudgy cheeks and soft skin. He rubbed his belly as he imagined his belly all full of a perfect little baby. Or two. Or three. “I’m going to start a family,” he said, thrilled. “I’m going to be a Mom.” Meanwhile, he was also feeling boy crazy, pulling out his cellphone, going to his BookFace account and then scrolling through pictures of men, and he had never, he felt, ever seen or appreciated a MAN before with their square jaws, rippling abs, bulging arms. He was paying a lot of attention to eyes color and hair color, their facial features.

“Oh! We’d make such beautiful babies, don’t you think?” He’d ask, showing Ray a picture of a guy. “Oh! How about him? I’d love to have a baby with soft green eyes!”

Ray struggled to process that this was Brad, the same Brad he’d known for all these years. Brad was the most dude of the dudes, a guy’s guy who’d never been anything but as straight as could be. All he talked about was sports. Now, for him to be gushing about having babies, which guys he found hot? It was hard to understand. The EP virus hit hard, and he wondered if maybe there was something else in that applicator besides just the pill. “Dude, bro,” he said. “Calm down. We just need to get you home.” 

“Look at this one,” Brad gasped. The guy had taken a picture showing off his backside among other pics. “I bet he could really pound a girl with those glutes.” 

“Brad, um, maybe cool it?” Ray’s words fell on deaf ears. 

Brad had gotten a massive boner, which was straining against his shorts, thrusting up like a

Titan missile. He now grabbed it and started to squeeze. “I’m so damn horny. Did you ever notice how hot guys are?” Brad’s cheeks and even the tip of his nose had now grown pink as he blushed, deeply lost in his new and passionate appreciation for men. “I just want to whip it out…”

“Dude!” Calvin yelled from the front seat. “Keep it in your pants.” Just then, the driver next to him laid on the horn as Calvin had drifted into the other lane a little. “Shit!” He shouted, yanking the wheel to the left, throwing the two in the back to the side.

Brad, who’d been thrown against Ray, gave the other man’s arm a squeeze and smiled. “You smell so good. Just let me have a little fun. Please?”

“There’s such a thing as a guy code,” Ray said. “You don’t play with yourself in someone else’s car.”

“I’m soooo horny,” Brad said.

“Dude!” Calvin shouted, trying to keep one eye on the road while keeping another on Brad in the rearview mirror. “Don’t you fucking do it.”

Brad, denied his first desire, now lunged at Ray. “How about you, then?” He said, thrusting his hands towards Ray’s junk. “I bet you have a big old hog.”

“Hey! Stop it,” Ray yelled, trying to fend Brad off, pulling back against the passenger door, crushed up into a corner of the back seat. 

“I can’t help myself,” Brad said, desperate as he wrestled with Ray. The wrestling, in fact, was only making him hotter. “I just want a little squeeze.”

Brad was bigger and stronger than Ray, and the other man soon found himself with one arm pinned against the car ceiling while Brad forced his other aside, his hand getting closer and closer to groping the other man’s Johnson.

“Okay. Okay,” Ray finally shouted in desperation. “Whip your junk out if you have to. Just get off me.”

“Okay. Okay,” Brad said, unzipping his shorts and pushing down his underwear, letting his cock pop free.

“This car is only three months old,” Calvin shouted. “Don’t you dare spluge on my leather seats.” “I won’t... I won’t…” Brad said, a new impulse filling his mind as he stroked himself. He searched on his phone using the thumb of his other hand until he found what he’d been craving, sighing with relief when the video started playing, a calm, joyful smile on his face even as he kept working himself.

Calvin glanced back and saw it as well. “What’s going on back there?”

Ray had never seen that look on a man’s face before, though it did seem sort of familiar. It was actually pretty disturbing to have Brad stroking himself, and he felt offended, violated and a little afraid of Brad after the whole groping attack. Yet, that look on Brad’s face… he just couldn’t fight back his curiosity. He craned his neck, though trying to stay back so Brad wouldn’t be tempted to pester him. His eyes went wide as he saw what Brad was watching, the sight that seemed to make the other man so happy.

On the screen, was a baby suckling on a big, white breast. The captions underneath were a narrative offering nursing tips for new mothers. Ray glanced down to see Brad’s nipples were hard as hell, tenting out the front of his shirt once more. “It’s such a miracle,” Brad gushed as he watched the video. 

“Yeah, sure,” Ray said, meeting Calvin’s eyes in the rearview mirror. They each shook their heads, like, what the fuck are we going to tell his wife?

Part II

“Dude, we’re about to pull onto your block. Stick it back in your pants.” 

Brad reluctantly shoved his Johnson back into his underwear, pushing it down and then zipping his pants up. Then, he raised his fingers to his nose and sniffed. ‘Precum,” he said with a grin.

He’d never noticed how good it smelled, and he found himself squeezing his knees together as he once more felt a strange new kind of arousal.

“You have something he can use to clean his hands off?” 

Calvin glanced back. “Wipes in the baby bag,” he said. “The second back seat.”

“Baby bag?” Brad said, his eyes going wide. 

Ray reached back and found the baby bag, then dug around and found the wipes, pulling out a few and handing them to Brad, who smelled them and then cleaned off his hands. Ray held out a small plastic trash bag for the wipes. “You’re so organized,” Ray said.

They arrived at Brad’s house and pulled into the driveway. “My nipples are driving me crazy,’ Brad said, cupping his hands over his chest and pressing. “Wait, do you think I got the Nanos?”

Calvin and Ray helped Brad to the front door and rang the bell. “The last time I did this I was in high-school and my buddy was drunk, not pregnant,” Calvin said.

“Who’s pregnant?” Brad asked.

“You did this before?” Ray said. ‘I never hung out with the drinkers. Too busy studying.”

“Why does that not surprise me at all?” Calvin said.

The door opened and Brad’s wife, Nicole, opened the door. She wore her everyday clothes– jeans, a Ramones t-shirt, and seeing the guys standing on either side of her husband holding him up, her gray eyes immediately narrowed. “Ray, I swear to God…”

“It’s not my fault,” Ray said. “Not this time.”

“You always egg him on, and he drinks too much and then I have to baby him the next day…”

“Babies…” Brad said. “Hunh. Hunh.”

“It really isn’t Ray’s fault,” Calvin cut in. “It was Harry’s idea. Brad lost is what happened.” Nicole’s face grew slightly more concerned while at the same time becoming more angry. “What are you not telling me?” 

“So, there’s this thing called EP Roulette…”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Nicole said, seething, looking at her husband. “How the hell could you play that stupid game?” Her anger had shifted directly to her husband.

“Babies…” Brad repeated, his eyes glazed, jaw slack. “Hunh. Hunh.”

“Well, gotta run,” Calvin said as he and Ray handed Brad off to his furious wife. “Maybe we’ll see you at the street party.”

Nicole glared at them as she draped Brad’s arm over her shoulders. Oh, God, she thought. What had that vow been? For better or for worse?

The room kept spinning. Brad had half woken up from what felt like the worst hangover of his life. His head pounded. The light sneaking in under the window shades burned his eyes. The room itself, somehow, seemed to be rolling side to side like a ship’s deck in stormy waters, and no matter whether he laid on his back, his side or his stomach, he couldn’t escape the feeling that he just might puke at any moment. He’d just broken out into a cold sweat when his wife came into the room.

“Morning,” she called in a loud and annoyed voice.

“Please,” Brad said, the sound of her voice like a thousand hammers being pounded against his skull. “My head.”

Nicole sat down next to her husband and rubbed his head. “You really outdid yourself last night,” she said. She’d seen guys who caught the virus, and she knew what was going to happen to the big strong man she’d married. She tried to picture him as a cute little mpreggo, but she couldn’t. Yet.

“I don’t remember a thing,” Brad said, rolling onto his back, looking up at his wife with bloodshot eyes. “I’m really sorry, babe. I guess I’m gonna be in the doghouse for a while, right?”

“More like the henhouse,” Nicole said. The comment went right over Brad’s head. He was not very coherent.

“Thanks for taking care of me.”

“Oh, honey, I’m fine taking care of you when you’re feeling so… delicate.” 

Part III

About a week later, Nicole still hadn’t told Brad about what had happened that night. She wasn’t even sure why she hadn’t told him. Maybe it was because she suspected it would be a difficult conversation. Maybe it was because she wasn’t sure how she felt about it and didn’t know what tone to take, how to talk about it, what to say to a man who was going to have a baby or two or three. So, life went on even as she began to notice Brad already starting to eat like a preggo.

Steam rose from three different boiling pots and the savory smell of a roast wafted from the oven. Meanwhile, she was at the center console in the kitchen, slicing up some English cucumber to throw into the romaine salad she was making. She heard the car pull into the garage, and soon Brad came in wearing a pair of baggy shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt, gym bag in hand, which he dropped by the door. “That smells great, and I am starving,” he said, coming up behind Nicole, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her on the neck. Nicole had noticed Brad was becoming more and more interested in kissing and cuddling. 

“Can you put the dishes out while I get everything to the table?”

“Sure,” Brad said.

“The two began the kitchen dance, dodging and weaving around each other as she got the steamed carrots and broccoli to the table and he the plates and cups. Next, she put the salad on the table plus boiled Yukon gold potatoes. Brad pulled the roast out of the oven, the outer shell nicely crusted, and soon he was eating voraciously, having two and three helpings of everything. “I’ve been so hungry lately,” Brad said, shaking his head.

That’s because you’re eating for two or three, Nicole thought, her feelings bittersweet. On the one hand, she knew Brad would not be the man she married, already wasn’t the man she married. He now carried babies, which to her mind made him a woman. Plus, she knew his body would be changing as he popped out his own little boobies, got maternal hips and became short and cute. Every preggo she’d seen had radiant skin. They were all glowing little mommies to be.

Of course, this would have to happen. Her mother had told her not to marry Brad, that he would end up letting her down. Of course, they’d bought the big SUV because they’d felt they were ready for children, only it was supposed to be her in about nine months and not him in years.

As she watched Brad eat, she pictured him with his own breasts, wearing a bra, wondered what they would look and feel like. She was still having trouble picturing her man as a Nano. When they’d both finished eating, Nicole said, “and I have carrot cake for desert. The real thing with sour cream in the frosting.”

“I don’t think I could eat another bite,” Brad said, but then he ate two pieces. After he finished the second piece, he used his finger to wipe up some of the frosting and licked it off. It was a habit that drove Nicole insane, and she wondered idly and improbably whether being pregnant might lead to better table manners. “I had a kind of light workout today,” Brad observed, half talking to himself, “but I still have the abs of steel.” He patted his belly. Nicole smiled. In fact, his belly had begun to bow outward a little. Though his belly was still firm, he was betraying the first signs of his condition. “Great meal, babe. So good.”

“Well, if you want to thank me, you could start by helping me clean the dishes.”

Brad grimaced. “I’m actually feeling a little tired,” she said, getting up and heading toward the living room. “I think I might be coming down with something.” He wandered off to the living room, and Nicole soon heard the sound of a football game coming from the other room. Brad had always been a “modern man” in the sense that he’d been willing to help around the house. She hoped this wasn’t a sign of things to come.

***

Nicole watched over the next two weeks as Brad’s body went through rapid changes. Yet, he remained completely in denial. It was little things rounding into big things. For one, his belly seemed to swell daily rounding, protruding. He had a pot belly, and he would sit watching TV with a bowl of cereal balanced on his belly as if it were a TV tray. Hoping to draw his attention to what was happening, Nicole idly mentioned “your tummy seems to be getting a bit round.”

“No kidding,” Brad said, eyes glued to the television. “I’m starving all the time. It’s crazy. I may have to start taking Fat Burner or something.”

“Or something,” Nicole said, nodding.

In the mornings as Brad got ready for work, Nicole watched as his hips grew softer and rounder, his butt grew bigger. Meanwhile, his thighs had begun to round and take on a distinctly feminine shape, with the upper thighs getting soft and fat. Brad soldiered on, ignoring it all. “I’m going to need a new belt…” progressed to him sucking in his gut, straining to get his pants buttoned. One day she even saw him lying on the bed, his legs in the air as he strained to get his pants on. When he finally succeeded, he rolled onto his side and pushed himself up, stood and tucked his shirt in. Seeing that Nicole was watching him, Brad chuckled and shook his head. “I really need to get back to running.” He started toward the door. Nicole had begun to wonder if his pants would split at work some day as she saw the seams straining against his widening, maternal hips and plump rear end. If he tried to bend down to pick something up, she figured they would rip in half.

“Your pants aren’t buttoned,” Nicole said.

“I know,” Brad said. ‘I can’t get them buttoned. I need new ones. I’m going to put on one of my new belts and hope no one notices.”

After work, Brad would usually put on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Like all his other clothes, his shorts were now too small, straining against his swelling ass. When he walked, Nicole noticed that his ass and thighs jiggled. How can he not notice this? She wondered, watching Brad’s butt bouncing with every step he took.

A few weeks later as they were getting ready for bed, Brad pulled off his shirt and Nicole noticed he was starting to develop his breasts. His areolas had spread and gotten a little puffier, resting on top of small rounding hills of breast flesh, and his nipples had gotten bigger as well. It wasn’t much, but it was more than enough to get a tween girl excited and thinking about asking her mom to get her a training bra. Still, she initially didn’t think to say anything, but once they’d gotten in bed, Brad had wanted to make love. He’d half climbed on top of her, so his soft little breasts were pressing against her body, and as he kissed her, he actually took her hand and placed it on his chest, whispering “squeeze.” Nicole couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that he had babies inside him– the mpreggos always seemed to have more than one– and the thought he was with child on top of his tween girl chest just confused her and made her uncomfortable.

“No,” she said, taking her hand from his chest and pushing him off her.”

“What’s wrong?” Brad pushed himself up on one arm, and with the other pressing against his budding breast, it pushed it inward forming a feminine crescent. Nicole saw that his nipples had also grown erect, riding proudly on his chest, which seemed to actually have swelled a little. Her own chest ached slightly in response to what she was seeing.

“Um, I don’t know how to tell you this or what to say or anything, so I guess I’m just going to say it. Brace yourself.” Nicole glanced down at his budding breasts, his slightly convex belly. How can he not know? She wondered.

“Hit me,” Brad said. “I can take it.”

“That night you got so wasted? I haven’t been able to tell you, but you lost the challenge.”

“What do you mean?”

“Honey, you got the nano virus. You’re pregnant.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Brad said. “Me? No way.”

“Honey,” Nicole said. “You have boobs.”

Part IV

September turned to October and the leaves outside the kitchen window went from summer green to a riot of reds and yellows. Brad found himself fussing around in the kitchen. He’d become obsessed with the idea of making brownies and they had to be from scratch using an old family recipe he’d gotten from his sister. He was humming to himself, not even aware of what song was running through his mind as he focused on carefully folding the cocoa powder into the batter with a rubber spatula. “I can bring home the bacon… fry it up in a pan…”

“You know you can just make those from a box a lot easier,” Nicole said. 

“I know, but it’s really not the same,” Brad answered. His voice had slid up half an octave. He didn’t sound quite like a woman yet, but he sounded less like a man. More like a boy since his speech patterns were the same as always. 

She was sitting at the dining room table just off the kitchen, her laptop open to the Department of EP Affairs One Stop Shop. It had been set up to make it easier for EPs to transition into their new lives. Here, an mpreggo could change his name, seamlessly retire from work, enter the Mama Care health system, rescind his driver’s license and sign up for other services as needed. Of course, Brad had kept putting it off, so she got stuck with the job while he played Betty

Crocker. “I’m about to start filling out your paperwork,” Nicole said. “You’re sure you don’t want to do this yourself?”

“No. You go ahead.”

Nicole went to work, her fingers hovering above the keyboard when it came to the New Name field. In fact, Brad had said he would just keep going by Brad since a lot of girls were using guy names anyway, but seething with anger at being stuck filling out his paperwork, Nicole thought maybe she would give him a girl name– a very girl name. She looked over at her husband. He’d gotten shorter, his once impressive shoulders had narrowed and rounded. He had slender, pretty arms now and not the once powerful arms she’d adored. He wore a thin, workout tank top that hugged the Hershey’s kisses that rose from his chest. His nipples were bigger than hers now, and she could see their plump outline through the thin fabric. 

What should his name be, she wondered. What would his stripper name be? Smirking, she typed in what would be Brad’s new name: Brandy. He’d get used to it. Looking once more at her husband, she thought about the group of idiots who’d talked him into the NP Challenge. She’d love to make them all mpreggos, she decided. Give them all stripper names. 

“Come take a taste,” Brad said.

Nicole got up and went over. Brad, remembering how much Nicole hated it when he or anyone else licked their fingers, scooped up a little of the deep, brown batter with the rubber spatula and held it out for her, bouncing on his toes, excited. Nicole took a taste. “And?” Brad said in his little boy voice.

Nicole couldn’t lie. “Amazing,” she said. “Amazing.” And then, as she plastered a fake smile on her face, she thought, you’re a better baker than me, and I hate you for it.

“Ha! See? Scratch is better.”

Seeing he needed and wanted physical assurances, Nicole gathered Brad in for a hug. It was such a different experience feeling his firm little breasts press against her body when they hugged. It was like hugging her sister now. He didn’t even smell like a man anymore.

As Brad spread the batter in a baking pan and slid it into the over, Nicole was thinking about just how she might get her revenge. Hmm. Yes, she thought. That just might work. Yes, indeed. She grinned. Her revenge would, literally, be sweet.

Brad sat on the couch with his smart pad scrolling through children’s Halloween costumes. It was silly, he knew, as it would be years until he would have the chance to dress his little ones up, but he couldn’t help but fantasize about how much fun they would all have when Halloween rolled around. Nicole came over and sat next to him, glancing at the screen. “I think we should ban Halloween,” she said.

Brad gasped and his eyes went wide, and then Nicole started laughing. “You’re so naive,” she said. ‘You’ll believe anything.”

“It’s mommy brain,” Brad complained. “I can’t help it.”

“Maybe you can help me by making some more of those epic brownies,” Nicole said. “I’ve been craving them ever since the first batch ran out.”

“Really?’ Brad said, clearly excited. It was so important to him that he be a good cook. “Really?”

“Yup. Really.”

“Okay, then.”

“Let me help you up.”

Once Brad went off to whip up a batch of his grandmother’s famous brownies, Nicole set about putting her plan into action. She made a point to wander through the kitchen a time or two, keeping tabs on where Brad was in terms of his baking. As he worked, he hummed the same song as before… “I can bring home the bacon… fry it up in a pan…” Once she saw that he just about had the batter ready, she went to Alexa and whispered, now retreating to a place where Brad could not see her.

The sound of a baby softly crying began to come from the speakers in the living room. Brad, who’d been in the middle of greasing the baking dish for the brownies, looked up and tilted his head toward the living room, then froze. “You hear that?” He called out. Nicole didn’t answer. Brad was pretty sure there was no baby crying in their house, but his heart began to pound, his breathing quickened. He felt his eyes sting as if he were about to cry. He couldn’t help himself. He headed to the living room.

Alexa was on a timer, and the sound of crying now shifted to the speakers on their closed in back porch, while also growing slightly louder and more urgent. “Omigod!” Brad gasped in his young, high voice. Nicole, who couldn’t resist taking a peak, almost laughed to see how anxious Brad had become, overwhelmed by his burgeoning maternal instincts. While Brad waddled off in search of the crying baby, Nicole snuck into the kitchen and retrieved a plastic bowl from the lower shelf next to the fridge. Prying open the top, she quickly poured the crushed-up EP pills into the bowl and then stirred them in so Brad wouldn’t notice.

Brad, looking teary-eyed, came into the kitchen. “Don’t you hear that baby crying?”

“Oh, that.” Nicole said. “Alexa, end meditation music.”

“Meditation music?” Brad asked, feeling himself growing more calm as the crying stopped. “Who would ever meditate to the sound of a crying infant?”

“I know,’ Nicole said. ‘One of my crazy coworkers, apparently.” Brad was wearing his usual around the house tank top, which now rode up his belly, almost coming to his belly button. She patted him on his belly. “Isn’t it ironic,” she said as she patted, “that you were so dead set against a family once upon a time, and now you’re in the family way as they say?”

“Okay, Alanis Morrisette,” Brad said. “It’s just like when you need a spoon and all you have is a fork.”

Brad didn’t sleep well that night. The sound of a baby in distress had shaken him badly, and each time he fell asleep he dreamt that he was lost in a dark wood, searching for a lost baby that was crying from somewhere, everywhere. He woke again and again, feeling a little jealous and a lot annoyed at Nicole, who was sleeping soundly beside him, snoring a little. She was sleeping so soundly, in fact, he would have said she was sleeping like a baby if wasn’t so annoyed at her for playing that evil recording in the first place.

By the time morning rolled around, Brad sleepwalked through getting ready and then confronted the tray of brownies he’d made the night before and left on a cooling rack. Had Nicole made some suggestion? He thought she had, but he couldn’t remember. Lousy Mommy brain again. “She must’ve told me to take them to work,” he thought. “What else would make sense?”

Brad took the tray of brownies to the car with him, carefully placed them on the passenger seat and then went around to the driver’s side. Getting into the car was a bit of an adventure with his big belly, and he carefully slid into the seat, his belly brushing against the steering wheel. Once in, he had to put the seat back in order to pull the seatbelt across his bulky body, and then pull it forward once more even though it meant the steering wheel would brush a little across his tummy. Since he’d gotten smaller, his arms were too short for him to put the seat back too far.

Being a shorty was something he would just have to accept. He would eventually deliver the babies, but he would never know the joys of being tall again. Oh, well. What could he do? Brad’s driving habits had changed as the result of his growing maternal instincts. He used to sit back, one hand on the wheel, brazenly zipping in and out of traffic, gunning the engine to blow through yellow lights just before they changed. Now, concerned about protecting his babies, he had both hands tightly on the wheel and was constantly checking his mirrors, keeping four and five car lengths between himself and the next car. He never even considered going through a yellow light. His car smelled of lavender and sage. He’d bought some of each and made a little bundle of the herbs which now dangled from the rearview mirror. Aroma therapy. They were said to reduce anxiety.

He worried so much anymore, but he’d seen a show on TV that had been all about mpreggos being worriers. It was part of becoming mommies. It was normal, so there was that. I’m normal, he thought, smirking as he squeezed his hands on the wheel and cringe when the car next to him drifted a little into his lane. Being insecure is the new manly.

As Brad climbed out of the car and walked toward his building, tray of brownies cradled in his arms, he saw a cop car in front of the building. A police officer got out, and Brad automatically made his assessment– tall, strong, healthy. Probably a good father type. His cheeks warmed.

The officer went around to the passenger’s side, opened the door and helped an mpreggo out. Seeing the officer take the other’s hand and be so protective now consumed Brad with a flash of jealousy. The mpreggo was huge, and he was wearing what looked more like a slutty Halloween version of a cop uniform than a serious uniform. That was one way Brad could tell for sure he was looking at a fellow mpreg. He didn’t think a woman would put up with something like that. Brad was looking over the mpreggo, with his cute little nose and big eyes. Ugh. His shirt was unbuttoned down to the top of his belly because it wouldn’t fit otherwise, or is it so he can show off those little boobies, Brad wondered, eying the soft crescents of the man’s perky breasts. He followed the two into the building, and all three of them groaned when they saw the sign on the elevator doors: Out of Order.

“I have to climb stairs? I’m just one day from Mpreg Retirement!” The mpreggo said, pouting.

The other cop chuckled and rubbed the mpreggo’s big belly. “Aw, I promise I’ll make it up to you. We’ve gotta answer that call. You promised you’d be the best rookie on the force!” 

“Yeah, well, the Ploughshares had other ideas.”

Brad, feeling ignored– not even a hello? He fumed, followed the two to the stairwell door. The not so mpreggo cop opened the door and held it from the mpreggo, who glanced up at him and offered him a smile of thanks. Brad smiled as well, thinking the cop would hold the door for him, too, but the couple seemed oblivious to him and instead the cop followed the other into the stairwell and let the door start to swing closed. Brad, his arms full of Brownies, hurried to catch the door with his foot, awkwardly wedging it open and sliding through with a soft grunt. What a jerk, Brad seethed, looking at the man, his fury growing. It’s like I don’t even exist, and that slutty little mpreggo is even worse!

To top it off, the mpreggo cop was much bigger and more limited in his movements than Brad and he was climbing the stairs very slowly, forcing Brad to climb slowly as well. This added to his pretty little rage, but soon he was surprised to find himself breathing hard, his heart racing, beads of sweat on his forehead. He knew he’d gotten a little bigger lately himself– in the belly department, that is– but he hadn’t done much of any kind of strenuous activity and didn’t realize the extra burden he now carried. With each step, he felt like his belly was growing bigger, heavier, settling down more intensely against his hips and pelvis. When they reached the landing for the second flight of stairs, the mpreggo cop said, “I need to take a break.”

“Sure, thing, babe.”

Though part of Brad would have liked to just put his nose in the air and storm past the annoying cops, he needed a break, too. As he reached the landing, he found a spot against the wall and leaned against it. He looked at the other mpreggo and their eyes met. “Everything’s harder, right?” The mpreggo cop said, and he had a buzzy, pretty voice like a little girl.

Despite his jealousy, Brad couldn’t help but empathize with the mpreggo. He smiled and nodded. “I feel like I’m carrying a horse.”

“I’m Jillian,” the cop said. ‘I mean, that’s my name now.”

“Brandy,” Brad answered, using his new name.

“Officer Nelson,” the non-mpreggo said, pointing to the nameplate on his shirt. Brad had a chance to look at him more closely and felt his heart flutter at the man’s cleft chin, bristling with carefully cultivated stubble. He had his black hair slicked back, but one curly strand hung over his forehead, Superman style, and Brad couldn’t help but forgive everything as he imagined what it would be like to be kissed by Officer Nelson.

Jullian eyed the plate of brownies in Brad’s arms. “I hope I’m not being too forward, but could I have one of those? I’m craving chocolate like crazy, plus I feel light headed. I need sugar.”

“How can I say no?” Brad said, wishing he could say no, but offering the tray to Jillian, who plucked one of the squares from the pan. Jillian took a bite and sighed. “Mmmmm. So good!” He said.

“Thanks.”

Officer Nelson eyed the brownies. “Say, those do look good. Mind if I have one?”

Brad felt his cheeks grow hot, the tip of his nose. He knew he was blushing, and terrified that

Nelson and Jillian would realize he was totally crushing, he smiled and said, “My wife made them. I think. Yeah, I mean, she totally made these.”

Officer Nelson took one of the brownies and gave Brad a wink. He took a bite and nodded.

“Your wife is a hell of a baker.”

Brad giggled. He couldn’t help himself.

Part V

Once Brad finally reached the office, he was breathing pretty hard and made his way to the break room. Kelly and Malone, two of his co-workers, had gathered by the water cooler and watched as he made his way across the office, looking gassed. “Good old Brad is in the family way,” Kelly said. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.”

“Yeah, right,” Malone said. “I think of all the times he shouted at people in staff meetings. I hope his babies are criers and keep him up all night long.”

“The only reason “Brandy” even had a job here in the first place is because of his father in law.”

Marcus could hear them, but he just pretended not to notice. What could he say now that he was expecting? He had thought to leave the brownies in the break room, but his path took him by the office of the very same father in law they’d been talking about. Marcus, the father-in-law in question, had given Brad the job when he got engaged to his daughter, Nicole. It had seemed like a perfect match both for he and Nicky. Marcus, like Brad, was a fitness fanatic, and the two of them had spent time talking about protein and good fats, the latest workout trends and had even lifted together at times. Now seeing the shrinking “Brandy” with his distended belly straining against his shirt, Marcus felt irritated and ashamed. His daughter deserved better. ‘Hey. Braaaaandy,” Marcus called, his voice seething with hostility. “Come in here.”

Marcus paused and looked over, cringing slightly.  He felt deeply ashamed that he had not only failed Marcus but had done it on a video that now had over 1 million hits. Most guys could at least say it wasn’t their fault they caught the virus. He couldn’t. He went into the office. “What’s up?” He asked, cringing, again, as he heard his softening voice. Cringing had become a regular thing for him.

Marcus' office was all dark oak and leather. All along the walls hung the heads of stags he’d shot. There was an office bar, a space for him to practice putting. He had a shelf of footballs and basketballs signed by famous athletes. Brad had once loved the unfettered testosterone of it all, but now felt a little intimidated. The days when he and Marcus sat on the balcony smoking cigars were over. “What ya got there?” Marcus said, nodding toward the plate of brownies.

“Brownie,” Brad said. “Nicole made them and she–”

“Leave ‘em,” Marcus said, looking pointedly at Marcus’ belly. “I’m trying to keep my staff fit and trim.”

Brad put the plate on Marcus’s desk. “Anything else.”

“How are you doing?” Marcus asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Well, I have to say–”

“Good talk,” Marcus with a smirk, just wanting to mess with Brad’s head. “Go. I have work to do.”

Marcus left, relieved to get away from “Dad” but also wounded, feeling the loss of what had been a positive relationship. Why did I have to play that stupid game? He wondered. It had totally messed up his life, and he couldn’t stop reliving that day over and over, wishing he could go back in time and warn himself not to do it. He needed to sit down, and he felt like he might start crying, so he once more headed to the break room just hoping it would be empty.

“Hey, Momster.”

Marcus recognized the voice immediately. It was Maggie Gold, one of his many former victims. Marcus tilted his head back to look slightly up at her, still reeling from the fact he was now shorter than her. “Hey.” He hated the nickname she’d come up with. Momster. It was so bad in so many ways. To his ears it combined Mom with Monster, implying he was so kind of Frankenstein creation which, in his own mind, in some ways he was.

“Buttons are undone,” Maggie said as she took a few steps ahead of him and pulled open the door to the breakroom. “Ladies first.”

“Haha,” Brad said, putting as much sarcasm into his voice as he could manage.

He settled himself into a chair, Maggie watching, smirking. Then, she came up to him and rubbed his belly. Brad was getting seriously sick of people rubbing his belly, but he just smiled. In spite of himself, he was getting more and more docile. “Let me get those buttons for you,” Maggie said, using a singsong voice like some people used when talking to small children.

I’m having babies, not becoming one, Brad thought, the smile still plastered on his face.

Maggie tugged on the buttons and made a big show of that fact they wouldn’t reach. “You’re so big!” She said, shaking her head and giving his belly another rub. “Just a suggestion, but it might be time for you to start wearing maternity clothes.”

“Thanks,” Brad said and then, trying to be sarcastic, added. “I never thought of that.”

Maggie chuckled at the sarcasm. “You sound like my tween niece.”

Back in his office, Marcus was on the phone working out the details on a big deal he’d been putting together. His eyes drifted to the brownies. One bar couldn’t hurt, could it?

That night Marcus sat back watching the news, a scotch in hand. He always watched Channel 8 because the anchor was a hot blonde who always wore low cut tops that showed off her ample cleavage. “So, for years women were considered the weaker sex, but who’d the shorter sex?” She asked, a twinkle in her eye. “The answer may surprise you. The average male height now stands at 5’ 3”, while the average woman stands 5’4”. So, sorry boys, looks like the girls are winning everything these days.”

Marcus shook his head. “It’s because the preggos are throwing off the average,” he mumbled. “We’re still the boss of you.” By “we” he meant trad men, of course. As for as Marcus was concerned, mpreggos were a step below women.

That weekend, Nicole had decided she wanted to do some work around the house. With Brad more and more pregnant and feeling “tired,” it had fallen on her to start doing the upkeep. She’d never really done much of that sort of thing– her father had raised her to be a traditional wife– but now that she was putting on gloves and hammering nails instead of just filing them, she found she liked it. So, Brad found himself waddling next to her as they made their way around the hardware store, Nicole talking about the jobs she wanted to do around the house while he half listened.  Brad still had primarily male features, though he looked much younger and, certainly, less chiseled. 

“Then, I might tear that wall out and make the downstairs bathroom bigger…” Nicole was saying during her running litany of home repair projects.

Brad, who’d gotten seriously into watching “New Day,” a soap opera about a group of young mpreggos living and in Chicago trying to deal with their new lives, found his mind wandering in a different direction as his eyes drifted to a young man in a pair of tight jeans with a the kind of seriously sculpted ass that promised jack-hammer thrusts. The young man wore a red vest, so Brad knew right off he worked at the store.

“Be right back,” Nicole said, wanting to move a little faster than she could with her pregnant hubby tagging along.

“Okay,” Brad said, thinking there is a god as he was now free to look over the hunky guy and drink it that hard, muscled rear. I used to have an ass like that, he thought, reflecting on his now round, bouncy, pregnancy enhanced ass. 

He felt his throat getting dry as he looked over the young stud and then, almost as if mesmerized, he walked right up to the guy, tapped him on the back. The guy turned and smiled down at Brad. “Can I help you?” Brad’s knees went slightly weak. Charles, as his nametag indicated, not only had a hot bod, but a voice like melted chocolate.

Brad smiled and hooked his hair behind his ear.  Then, making his voice higher and more musical, he said, “Um, I was wondering if you… um…” want to kiss me right now… he thought, then started to panic, not having thought of what to ask about before he walked up to this guy with the amazing emerald eyes…. “Um….”

The guy just kept smiling. 

“I’m so sorry,’ Brad said, then gestured to his head. “Mommy brain.”

“We’re all out of those,” the guy said.

Brad burst into giggles. “You’re so funny.” He put his hand on Charles’ arm. He couldn’t help himself. ‘Oh. I remember. I need a… pipe wrench.”

“A pipe wrench?”

“Yes. I have a terrible pipe related leak issue.”

“Right this way,” Charles said, putting a hand on Brad’s back and guiding him to the right.

The feeling of that hand on his back made Brad tremble. As they walked together, Brad noticed another mpreggo walking toward them. He was just beginning to show, with his mommy belly rounding out his shirt and his arms smaller, more feminine. Brad noticed that Charles’ eyes drifted over the other man, lingering on his belly. As he looked, a little smile formed on his lips. Brad instantly felt his cheeks grow hot as a storm of emotions overcame him. On the one hand, he loved that it seemed Charles was into mpreggos. On the other hand, he so hated Charles was checking out another guy! “Oh!” Brad called, making his voice higher and more lyrical. “I just remembered something super important.”

“Wow. Okay. What is it?” Charles said, his attention once more fully on Brad.

“Um… er….” Brad’s cheeks grew an even brighter shade of red. “I forgot again?” He giggled and put his hands on his belly. “My condition.”

They continued their way to the plumbing section. “Can you take that box off the high shelf for me?” Brad said, hooking his hair behind his ear. “I want to give it a closer look.”

“Of course,” Charles said, knowing exactly what was going on. He reached up, even tensing his ass muscles and lifted the big, heavy box down. Brad did indeed get a closer look, admiring the way the man’s muscular arms rippled, his hard, powerful glutes, firm abs. When Charles had the box down, Brad reached his arms out as if to take it, but Charles chuckled. “This is way too heavy for you, kid.”

Brad gave Charle’s bicep a squeeze. ‘You’re so strong,” he said in a breathy voice, batting his eyelashes.

Their eyes met, and Brad felt some serious sparks. For a moment, he actually thought Charles might kiss him, but then the magic was shattered.

“Brandy!” Nicole called out as she came around the row and saw them. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” 

Brad never seemed to feel just one emotion anymore. Being an mpreggo had “gifted” him with a much more complex relationship to himself. Now, he felt super annoyed that Nicole had interrupted his moment, and super embarrassed that she had caught him having a moment with another man. That was another thing he was noticing. He only seemed to have extreme emotions anymore.

‘Oh, hi,” he said, stepping back from Charles. He was surprised, though, and pleased that Charles didn’t embarrassed or thrown off at all. “I was just– he was– we were…”

“I was just getting something down off the shelf for this little cutie,” Charles said. ‘He yours.”

“Yeah,” Nicole said, leaning on her cart, which was now full of supplies. “He’s quite a handful always wandering off,” she said, her voice slightly exasperated, as if she were talking about a wayward child.

Brad followed along as Nicole walked toward the checkout lanes, but he couldn’t help but glance back at Charles. His feelings were too strong. He couldn’t fight them. “I know this might be a little weird for you,” Brad said, “but I was wondering if maybe I could go back and, you know, get Charles’ number?”

Nicole stopped and looked at Brad. He could see her thinking, and then she just sort of shrugged and said, “okay.”

Brad’s super powered and confusing emotions once more began to torment him. He was happy in a way he’d never felt having gotten Charles’ number, and part of him was glad that Nicole had seemed, if not fine, ambivalent. Another part of him felt abandoned, hurt, ashamed that she wasn’t angry about it, that she didn’t seem to care anymore. He also felt scared for himself and his babies. If Nicole kicked him out, what would happen to them? I never should have asked her about getting the number, Brad thought that night, unable to sleep, his head swimming with worry. Then, suddenly, rage.

I bet she’s having an affair, he thought, his hands resting on his belly. Look at me! We never have sex anymore. She doesn’t love me anymore, and she’s cheating. Yes, he was sure of it and thought about waking her up so he could slap her in the face, but then the doubts swarmed over his rage.

I’m just being emotional, he thought. Irrational.

In the morning, he got up and made breakfast. When Nicole came down, she’d just taken a shower, was fresh and smelled like roses. Brad did his best to be as cheerful and accommodating as he could be. He’d decided it was best. Then, when the time seemed right as they were both finishing up their meals, he waved his fork in the air. “Oh, so, anyway, I’ve been thinking about something.”

Nicole got a stressed look on her face. Ever since Brad had gotten a bun in the over, whenever he started thinking it seemed to lead to trouble for her. “Thinking?”

“Yes, well, and it’s not a big deal at all, you know, but, um, I was just wondering– when I told you I wanted that guy’s number the other day? Why did you say yes so easily? It was like you didn’t even care or whatever, and I’m sure I’m just imagining it, but it almost seemed like you didn’t care which, haha, I mean, right?” He smiled and waited, eyebrows raised.

“I’ve been expecting it,” Nicole said, matter of factly. “I’ve been reading up on mpreggos, and it’s clear that part of the whole process is that you become attracted to trad guys. I hated the idea and part of me still does, but I realize it has nothing to do with me. It’s the nanos.”

“Oh,” Brad said, his smile getting bigger. “Okay.”

‘Okay?” Nicole said. “You sure? We can talk about it. I don’t want it to linger.”

“I need time to process,” Brad said. Indeed, he wasn’t sure if he should be angry, happy, sad and he didn’t want to go off and create a storm until he’d had time to think about it. “More coffee?”

Part VI 

Marcus pulled to the curb across the street from his building and checked out the parking lot.

Empty. Thank god. It wasn’t a total surprise as he’d come in on a Saturday at the crack of dawn, but you never knew until you got there. He didn’t want anyone to see him or get suspicious, so he’d even driven his wife’s car, which he now parked in a spot as hidden from the street as possible. He had learned to a kind of sideways slide out of the car as his now pot belly rubbed against the steering wheel. Once out of the car, he tugged on his t-shirt. Formerly his baggy, hang around the house shirt, it now rode slightly up on his belly and slung to his swelling breasts.

Relieved that he was alone, he made his way inside only to make a small, startled yelp as he turned the corner to the elevator and saw a cop standing there chomping down a donut with pink frosting, the lower buttons on his shirt undone to make room for his own bulging baby bump and showing off his too small undershirt. He jumped when Marcus yelped, and his butt jiggled and bounced along with his small breasts. “You scared me,” he said as he tossed the last of the donut into his mouth.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” Marcus said, noticing the man’s name tag read “Nelson.” What are you doing here on a Saturday morning?”

“Alarm,” Nelson said, licking a little of the frosting off his fingers. “Floor 10. Keeps going off, and it’s always a false alarm, but we have to check it every time. Killing my lower back not to mention my feet.”

Marcus couldn’t help but nod in empathy. Glancing down, he saw Nelson wore a pair of flats.

They were the “Mommy Flats” that had become all the rage among mpreggos, though Marcus couldn’t help but notice Nelson’s didn’t match– one was navy and the other was black. As they waited for the elevator, Nelson sighed and undid a couple more buttons, then put one hand on the small of his back and another on his belly. “I feel like a sausage,” he said. “All my clothes are too tight.”

“Tell me about it. Say, I didn’t see a patrol car.”

“I parked out back in case this was a real crime.”

Marcus huffed. “You’d think they wouldn’t send a preggo out alone on a possible crime. Some people just don’t appreciate what we go through.”

“You said it.”

The elevator bell chimed, and both men sighed. It was like the nanos inside them had somehow synched. As they walked down the hall, each had a growth spurt, his belly swelling, his ass getting plumper, his shirt and pants tighter. “Oh, lord,” Marcus said as he arched his back further against the weight of his belly, even as he felt his pants growing tighter and tighter around his swelling thighs. With the growth spurt came a hormonal surge, and Marcus was suddenly sweating as he was overcome with a hot flash.

A button actually popped off Nelson’s shirt as he paused, leaning against the wall with one arm while fanning himself with the other. “If there is an actual criminal here,” Nelson said, gasping for air. ‘I’m gonna ask him to give me a foot massage.”

Once he’d recovered from the sudden surge, Nelson made his way to his office. His belly had grown enough he could see and feel the new size, and he couldn’t help but wonder how big the babies were now. He thought about his babies a lot, which was pretty normal since they’d gifted him with constant bouts of morning sickness, among other things. As he lowered himself into his office chair, sighing with relief, he grew even more determined to keep his condition a secret. He couldn’t let the world know about his condition. He was a real man, and he could only imagine the laughter if people found out that he was preggers.

Damn it all. How had this happened? He wondered, not having even considered the brownies might be to blame. Why did it have to happen to me?

Marcus initially resolved to just work from home, but in the end, he just couldn’t do it. His wife had been giving him a lot of shit about his condition, and his teenage son and daughter weren’t much better. His daughter, in particular, loved to tell him he needed a bra now, and she’d even brought one of her old training bras to the dinner table one night and made a show of presenting it to him. He’d angrily thrown it aside, feeling his breasts sway as he did so, then stormed off. Or, rather, waddled off.  That night his wife had a smirk on her face. She had the bra hidden behind her back, came up to him where he lay on the bed and then had brought it around, holding it up by the straps. It was pink with white trim and had a little bow in the center.

 “You’d look so cute in a little girl’s training bra,” she said. 

“I’m not wearing a bra.”

“Why not? I mean,” and then she snorted, “you have titties now.”

With the teasing from his family, Marcus decided it would be better to head into the office. He liked it there. It was his place. Besides, the business would collapse without him on the job. He would just get there early and stay late. Relay his directives through his secretary. No one would need to know. Of course, had Marcus told this plan to anyone, they would probably have called it irrational. Or, maybe, suggested he had Mommy brain.

It didn’t matter. Sunday night, Marcus typed out a bunch of notes to his secretary. The front page read “Omega Protocols.” He loved to create dramatic names for his initiatives. The first line read, “From this day forward, my office is sacrosanct. No one is admitted for any reason.”  Had Marcus been seeing a psychologist, the psychologist probably would have suggested to him that he felt compelled to be in the office because he was desperately looking for a sense of control. He’d lost control of his body, his life, his future so he longed to still be the boss of the office, to be in control of something. 

His secretary, Abigail Kline, came in Monday morning to find the “Omega Protocols” on her desk. She read through them, growing curious. Or, would the proper word be suspicious? She found herself watching the frosted glass of his office and outer window, occasionally catching glimpses of his shadowy shape. He looked shorter and fatter, or should she say fecund? Gossip began to spread around the office like wildfire, and Abby had to stop going to the break room altogether because people were relentlessly pestering her for information.  In fact, Marcus was the heart and soul of the operation, and people were even talking about sending out their resumes, afraid the whole company might do down with him acting so strangely. 

New words began to circulate around the office. They said he was being “pregstitious” or when someone suggested maybe he’d gotten the nano virus, they’d respond, “Shhhs. Mom’s the word.” Some liked to say that men who were trying to hide their pregnancies were in “witness protection” or else were “Under the Dome.” 

The pressure on Abby for info was intense, yet she had gotten and kept this job in part because she never let one word about her boss out unless he wanted her to do so.  For the next week, Marcus would send her emails or texts with directives for each department. She could hear him sometimes sighing with exhaustion, or groaning as, she imagined, he was trying to get up from his chair. Abby, let it be said, resented Marcus. Yes, he paid her well– above the norm for someone in her position– but he’d used that as an excuse to berate her and humiliate her at times. Now, thinking of his changing body, the need to see it with her own eyes grew stronger and stronger. She even played out the scene in her mind over and over, imagining him shorter than her now, with his big, mommy belly. They would both know he was developing a birth cabal for his babies, that he was going to have female parts to go along with the male.

She knew she shouldn’t look, but she wanted to look so badly. Her will broke toward the end of the week. She was sitting at her desk, answering emails, when she heard soft groaning and panting coming from Marcus’ office. It was more intense than usual, and after it had gone on for several minutes, she couldn’t help herself. Getting up, she went to the door and pushed it open. She froze. She could recognize Marcus still; his face looked kinda the same, though he looked younger. The rest of him was so different, starting with the fact he was wearing a short camisole and a pair of boy shorts. He had a big, preggy belly, small breasts and wide, soft hips.  His face was bright red, and he was fanning himself with one hand while rubbing his belly with the other.

“Eeee!” Marcus squeaked when he saw her. “Close the door,” he said, terrified someone else might see him. “Close the door.”

Abby stepped into the office and pulled the door closed behind her. “I’m so sorry… I, um… thought that I, well, it doesn’t matter,” she said, looking over Marcus. “You’re an… er….” “Mpreggo,” Marcus said, turning his back to her, covering his face with his hands. Abby noticed he now had a plump, round rear. Despite having rehearsed the scene many times, now that it was real she didn’t really know what to say. However, as she struggled to find words, Marcus spun around– or waddled might be a better word. ‘Not a word of this leaves this office,” he said, stomping one now petite foot. “Not a word.” He started fanning himself again. “Hot flash,” he said, apologetically. “My hormones are all over the place.”

“My lips are sealed,” Abby said, taking in the sight of her boss, noticing that in addition to his body having changed, his speech slightly more feminine as well. “You should have told me,” she said. “I could be such help to you now that you are in such a delicate condition.”

Marcus bit his lip. “How could I tell you? How could I tell anyone?” He looked down at his belly. “The indignity. Well, let me make this clear. Now that you know my little secret, nothing changes. I don’t want you to treat me any differently than before.”

“Of course.” 

He went to his office chair and held out his arm. “Help me sit, please.”

What happened to no different treatment? Abby thought as she went over to help her boss sit, loving that he was becoming so helpless. Once she’d helped him sit, Marcus looked up at her and batted his lashes. They were now long and curly. She hadn’t noticed before. He tugged on an earlobe. “Um, could you be a dear and run down to Gristedes for me? I’m craving crullers like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Abby said, trying to keep from smiling. Marcus having cravings just like any pregnant woman? It was too much.

Part VII

Brad felt a cool breeze swirling between his bare legs as he walked across the parking lot on his way to the office. The breeze tossed the hem of his sundress, and he smiled and tilted his head to the side, one hand resting on top of his belly. He had come to full form, as his doctor called it, and he just felt so fulfilled now, having his babies in his belly, wearing a pretty dress. A squad car pulled up, and Brad watched as a tall, athletic female officer got out and opened the door for a pretty little mpreggo he recognized as Officer Nelson. Brad went over to say hello. He felt an instant bond and kinship with other mpreggos.  “Brandy,” Nelson said, one hand on the small of his back. “I love your dress.”

“‘Thanks,” Brad said, then made a limp wristed wave toward Nelson. “Your hair is amazing.”

“Oh, I try,” Nelson answered, patting his permed hair. “Did I tell you I’m carrying quintuplets?”

“That explains it,” Brad said, nodding toward Nelson’s huge belly. “You’re so fertile. Good for you.”

While they talked, Kennedy, the female officer, sighed in an annoyed, exasperated manner. She started talking into her shoulder walkie talkie. “Got a minute? Nellie is bonding with some other mpreggo. Yeah. Yeah. I don’t know why we even bother to hire men anymore. They all end up mothers. As soon as I get to know a new partner, he always seems to get knocked up. Oh, he’s big as a mega mansion. He actually let a perp walk the other day because “he asked really nicely. Retiring soon, I’m sure.” She turned her attention to Nelson. “Getting the preggy-boy baby-brain-drain. Aren’t you, darling?” She gave his ass a swat, making him giggle. “Let’s check out that stupid faulty alarm system, pretend you’re a big, serious officer one more time.”

Nelson smiled and waved. Brad smiled and waved back. Retirement. He couldn’t wait. He was so looking forward to milking this whole mpreggo thing. He would retire soon himself and then dedicating his life to watching soaps. Once he got to the office, Brad spent the next hour blushing as the women showered him with praise. He had such a pretty face, and his skin was looking so good. ‘You’re glowing,” more than one said. To a great extent, they were just teasing him, the big bad man who thought he could bully everyone, but now they loved seeing him so cute and sweet. They loved to get him talking about motherhood, baby names he was considering, his hair and his cute outfits. Brad loved all the attention. It was just one of the unexpected benefits of being an mpreggo. Eventually, people began to drift back to work, and Brad decided to head back to his cubicle. He didn’t really have much to do. The boss didn’t trust him to handle much given how silly his thinking had become, but that was fine with Brad. Gone were the days when he felt he needed to prove himself, to be a bigshot. He felt like a queen these days, having everyone fawn over him, letting his wife do all the work around the house.

As he was making his way, he noticed a pair of tall, lanky women in paint splattered overalls removing a sign that read “Marcus Evenson: CEO.” The doors to the outer office were open, and there were more workers inside working on the remodeling.  Well, most of them were working. One studly young buck was off to the side talking to Marcus, who was giggling and tossing his hair. He’s such a little slut, Brad though, both annoyed and impressed at how cute Marcus looked in his own sundress. “Rub my belly. It’s good luck,” Marcus said. He now had a piping little voice, like a girl and long hair that framed a smooth, bright face where all signs of aging had been erased by the nano. He looked like a fresh-faced young woman. Cute. Very cute. 

Brad lingered, impressed by the work he was seeing. Marcus’ last act as CEO had been to convince the board to convert his old office space into what he was calling “The Nesting Place,” which was going to be a full-service day spa for mpreggos who had decided to prioritize motherhood over careers. Of course, in reality, they’d had little choice, but it sounded better that way, didn’t it? Just as Brad was about to head off– he needed to get off his feet and take a rest- Marcus looked over and saw him. “Brandy!” He called with a big smile, excusing himself from his flirt and waddling toward Brad.

“Marcie,” Brad said. “I love that dress.”

“Oh, my God. Want to trade? You look stunning.”

“Oh, stop.”

Marcus opened his arms, inviting a hug. Their bellies were so big they had to pivot their hips for a kind of side hug. “So, who would have thought the two of us would be here one day complimenting each other on our dresses?” Brad said.

Marcus tugged at his dress and rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Timi Chalomet.”

“As soon as he showed up at The US Open to watch his boyfriend play tennis everyone just had to have one.”

“Celebrities,” Marcus said wistfully. “What are they good for if not to tell us what to wear?”

A couple of female executives walked by, talking about the supply chain issues. “Curious at all?” Brad asked, thinking he probably knew the answer.

“Not a smidge,” Marcus said. “I’m just wondering what kind of cake they’re going to get for our retirement party.”

Part VIII

Brad had his phone propped in the crook of his neck as he sat by the pool, painting his nails. “I wouldn’t go back for the world,” he said. “I can eat as much and as often as I want. I don’t have to work anymore, and there’s no honey do list. Nicole takes care of the house. All I have to do is pretty much be pregnant. It’s the best gig I’ve ever had.”

“Seriously?” Ray asked. He was covered in grime after crawling under the house to fix a leaky pipe. His hands hurt, and he could hear his wife still complaining at him from inside the house. “I feel I could use a break, but it seems pretty drastic.”

“You heard what happened to Bart, right?”

“Yeah,” Ray said. “Poor bastard. Heart attack. What was he, 34?”

“I’ll tell you what he wasn’t?” Brad said, popping another bon bon into his mouth. “Sitting by the pool relaxing. Those 50-hour work weeks are going kill you.”

Post Retirement, Brad settled into his new life of ease and, mostly, comfort. He spent all day sitting on the couch, watching soaps or playing video games. When the weather was good, he lay out by the pool. Nicole was always working during the day, so he had the house all to himself. His only work, if you could call it that, was that he’d started a social media account where he preached the good news about how awesome it was to be mpreggo. It was called Mpreg a Go-Go.

A few weeks after their conversation, Nicole helped Brad out of the car outside Max’s, and he headed to the backyard. He’d brought along a bundt cake he’d made for the boys, who were gathered around a TV set on the back porch to watch a boxing match. As Brad came around the corner, he called out, “Bros” in his high voice.

“Oh, yeah, hey,” Harry said, not taking his eyes from the screen. “Yeah, bro,” Calvin said, barely acknowledging Brad. They always felt a little awkward around him now. Brad understood, and one of the reasons he’d started to preach the good news about the mpreggo life was to try and make trads more comfortable around mpreggos. At least the ones who weren’t mpreggo amorous.

As usual, the talking heads were talking and there network was making a big build up to the weigh-in. Brad sat down among the trads, sipping his iced tea– no alcohol for expectant mothers, guy or gal. Brad didn’t really care about the fight. He occasionally tried to jump into the conversation, but he was so distant from these trads now, it was almost like he was an alien trying to pass as one of them. Still, he liked to hang with his old buddies, and Nicole had wanted him out of the house so she could get together with some of her friends. So, he sat on his phone, scrolling through websites offering tips for mpreggos on how they could make sure their babies came out as budding geniuses. When the fighters came out, though, the crowd gasped, as did the guys around Brad. “What the hell?” Harry shouted, waving his beer at the TV. “I bet good money on this fight.”

Brad smiled as he looked at the TV. It seems each of the fighters had got the Nan, as some now said. They both now had round, soft bellies and wore sports bras over their budding breasts. Instead of the usual baggy shorts, they wore tight, little short shorts. “Are they gonna fight anyway?” Calvin said. “Is that even safe?”

They all looked at Brad. He shrugged. “How should I know? What am I, some kind of preggo expert?”

“You don’t have to get all snippy.” Calvin said.

Brad went back to his phone. He’d found a really good article on the benefits of folic acid for his babies, and he was making a list of different foods he could increase to make sure they got enough. Lazy as he was in most respects, when it came to his babies Brad had become something of a Tiger Mom.

Some shouting snapped him out of his happy world. Looking over, he saw Harry and Ray with dildo-shaped applicators raised in the air. “You’re doing the challenge again?” Brad said.

“Sure,” Ray called back. “What’ve I got to lose?” As he said that last part, he gave Brad a wink. The two men began chugging away on the applicators. Calvin took a sip of his beer, shook his head and yelled, “Dude, your wife is going to have to convert your den into a nursery.”

“Better her than me!” Ray called back.

“They’re nuts,” Calvin said. “Nuts. Why even take the chance they’re going to end all fat and useless and–” He froze as he remembered who he was talking to. “Oh, bro, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

Brad saw a chance to carry the Mpreg-a-go-go message. “I love being mpreggo,” he said. ‘It’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Calvin’s face crunched up in confusion. “Seriously?”

He gathered his hair back into a ponytail and slipped a scrunchy off his wrist, tying it back in one smooth motion. Then, he patted Calvin on the knee. “Let me tell you about my life.”

Part IX

“Can I squeeze by?” Brad said, raising his arm and sidling along the wall as Ray turned sideways and raised his arms as well, although arms were not actually the problem. The real problem was that these two very in the business mpreggos had large bellies in which they were carrying babies, and even in the double vanity, expanded bathroom Ray’s wife had had built for him after he’d found himself in the family way. Their bellies rubbed together as Brad passed, and they couldn’t help but grin. They loved the feeling of their bellies being rubbed, especially by another mpreggo’s belly. Both of them were naked except for their thongs. As big as they were and as much effort as it took to carry around their babies, they would sweat very easily, so it was better to stay undressed as long as possible before the latest get-together.

Brad picked up the eyelash curlers and went to work on his lashes. In fact, he had grown long, curly lashes during his time as an mpreggo, but they just weren’t quite curly enough. Ray went back to applying concealer under his eyes, then picked up a pair of tweezers and started to pluck his eyebrows. It took a lot longer to get ready these days, but the two had come to enjoy primping and prepping. “We don’t primp because we must,” Ray said. “We primp because we can.”

“You can’t believe how many t-shirts I sold with that slogan on it.”

“How many?”

Brad’s mouth went into a full-on smirk and he crunched down his own slender eyebrows. ‘How should I know? Nick handles the business stuff. I’m terrible at math.”

“Well, you’re the queen of the advice boys,” Ray said.

“Merci!” Brad said, batting his long lashes.

Later, Brad was sitting outside with Harld and Ray, along with Calvin and a couple of other trad neighbors. They were watching The NY Yankees play the Boston Red Sox. Not the old baseball teams, but women’s softball, which had overcome baseball in popularity. Kate Sandusky was at the plate, her long red ponytail trailing from under her helmet. She had a fierce look in her eye as she faced off against Mandy Mayes, the best pitcher in the league. Mays wound up and delivered the pitch, Sandusky swung and missed. 

“Yeah,” Calvin said. “Do it. Man, oh man, these girls can really play.” 

“You know, they make shirts for us,” Ray said, taking note of how Harry still wore one of his old t-shirts which was now tragically small, riding up on his swollen belly. 

“I’m me. I’m not changing and wearing freaking women’s clothes just because of these brats.”

He rubbed his belly, then pushed a hand under his shirt to scratch one of his breasts. Well, you had to give him credit for sticking to his values, Ray though, cringing at the sight of Harry’s wild, untamed eyebrows that looked like a couple of caterpillars crawling across his forehead. He’d also just let his hair grow out without getting it trimmed or styled, so an unruly mop of curls spilled out from under his old, weather-stained Yankees cap. Both he and Brad were sure Harry would come around eventually. He wasn’t going to attract very many men looking like that.

“I hope my girls get into sports. If they take after their moms, they’ll be hellacious athletes. They could both be stars for The Yankees. Wouldn’t that be something?”

“Yeesh,” Calvins said. “They aren’t even born yet. Pump the brakes.”

Brad, Harry and Ray all exchanged smiles. Trad men just didn’t get it. They all spent a fair amount of time these days daydreaming about their kids and the kinds of lives they would have. It was normal.  

Brad went to work. He moved around the party, taking time with each of the trad men, talking about the virtues of the mpreggo life. They all seemed distant, uninterested, but that was a typical response as trads never wanted to admit they had any interest at all in even what it was like to be pregnant. Yet, Brad knew. He could tell. His message was getting through to some of them. He gave Ray a wink. They looked over at the cooler with some mpreggo doses Ray had made sure to leave on the table. It was a non-threatening blue color. Trads could be so insecure.

People started to drift off. Eventually, it was just Ray, Brad and a group of four trads from the neighborhood sitting around the firepit, beers in hand. ‘Help me up?” Ray said, holding out his arm. “Sure thing,” Larry, one of the trad neighbors said. He was a tall, good-looking guy. He pulled Ray to his feet, and Ray gave his arm a squeeze by way of thanks. Then, batted his lashes. “There’s more beer in the cooler on the table.”

With Ray and Brad gone, the four trads stared into the fire. Each of them pondering what they’d seen and heard. “I’m surprised at how happy they seem,” Paul said, taking a sip from his beer. They all had that generic suburban look with khaki shorts and pullover shirts. Reggie was the only one who stood out a little, as he was wearing a flowery Tommy Bahama.

“Brandy was preaching the word,” Reggie said. “I felt like I was at an mpreggo revival.”

“Evidently, they sit around all day and their wives do all the work,” Eric said.

“It does almost sound good, right?” The last to speak was Joe. “I tried to fake an injury to get on disability once.” He groaned as he got to his feet. “Anyone need another beer?”

“Me. Yup.” They were all ready for another beer. One of the advantages of living within walking distance. Joe went to the cooler and opened it up, then lifted one of the dildo shaped applicators. “Look at this.” As the cold air from the cooler hit the warm night air, mist rose from the cooler. A shaft of moonlight cut through the yard, illuminating Joe.

The guys all looked. Thought. “We should do it,” Joe said. “Take the challenge.”

“I mean, I know I’m immune, so it wouldn’t really be fair,” Reggie said.

“I can’t catch it either,” Paul said. “I have total immunity.”

“Well, then, why not?”

Not able to admit they were curious or that Brandy’s preaching might have gotten through to them, the four gathered around the table. They set up a phone to record, lifted the applicators to their lips and sucked down the doses. “I wonder if any of us got it?”

“Hot tub,” Reggie said, stripping out of his shorts and throwing off his Tommy Bahama. “It’s supposed to sped up the process. I can’t wait to see which one of you got knocked up.”

The other guys were all drunk enough to follow suit. Soon, they were all neck deep in the tub, kneeling down so the warm, frothing waters covered their whole bodies. “I feel weird,” Paul said.

“Me, too. Tingly.” Eric looked worried.

The guys started giving each other shit. “It’s you. No, it’s you. I told you I’m immune.”

Inside the house, Brad and Ray watched, grinning.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do. On the count of three, we all stand. One… two… three…”

They all stood, and even before they stood Reggie knew who’d gotten nanoed as he felt a big, soft belly brush against his own.  A blushing Paul cradled his large, baby belly. He had already even popped out a pair of breasts. His smooth skin was slick with water that washed down and dripped from the bottom of his belly. From the neck up, he looked exactly the same, but so many changes had happened so fast that the sight of the naked men sent a shockwave of desire through his body and milk squirted from his breasts.

The other guys all jumped back, not wanting to get sprayed with breast milk. “I can’t believe it happened to fast,” Reggie said. “Tell me about it,” Paul said. “Say, can someone go inside and get me some pickles and chocolate pudding? I’m starving.”

The guys all laughed. “Do I look like your wife?” Reggie said. “Yeesh. Just kidding. I’ll get you something.”

“I wonder when his face will change?” Eric climbed out of the tub and went to get his phone.

Brandy, watching it all, felt happy for Paul. “I was hoping it was him. I could sense that he had an mpreggo soul.”

“And, when are you doing to invite him to be on your podcast?” Ray said.

“Next week.”

Part X

Brandy had driven himself to the hardware store. Nicole was at work. He was feeling lonely and more than a little horny. After spending all morning thinking about Charles’ broad shoulders, his bulging arms, Brandy had finally given in and decided to go see if he could “accidently” bump into Charles and maybe, you know, sneak back to the break room for a quickie. The store wasn’t too crowded. It was a weekday, midmorning. So, he walked up and down the aisles, but his happy smile faded as he kept looking and looking but saw no sign of Charles. Finally, he saw a young woman and an mpreggo stocking a shelf in the section for Halloween decorations.

She walked over. The two had their backs turned to him. “Excuse me,” he said. ‘I’m looking for Charles?”

The mpreggo turned around, a bright smile on his pretty face. “Oh, hey,” he said in a high, squeaky voice. He put his hands on top of his belly. “Can I help you?”

The face looked familiar, and when he looked down at the nametag it confirmed his worst fears.

The nametag read “Charlotte.” Brad hid his disappointment behind a bright smile.

“Congratulations,” he squealed. Inside, he was thinking, the good ones are always nanoed!

Epilogue

Harry, Brad and Ray lounged in the hot tub. A bottle of apple cider champagne rested on the deck, its surface beaded with sweat. Each of the guys held a glass of fizzing cider up in the air. The sun was dropping behind the tree line, casting orange and yellow light rays up into the puffy clouds that floated above them. “To the mpreggo life,” Brad said. 

“Here, here…” the other two repeated. They clinked their glasses together, sipped and laughed.

“Anyone else hungry for some chocolate ice cream pizza?” Harry said.

“Oh god, I wasn’t but I am now.” Ray rubbed his belly.

Being careful not to get his phone wet, Brad went to the “Cravings” app. Cravings was a new restaurant that catered the ever-growing number of mpreggos and their ceaselessly exotic food hungers. “If you want it, we’ll make it.” He ordered the chocolate covered pizza, then sat back and closed his eyes, just letting the cool night breeze wash over his face, while the warm water caressed his body. Harry and Ray were chatting about an article they’d both read on the benefits of letting their babies listen to music in the womb. How different this was from their old gatherings. It was so… maternal. His whole life now felt like a warm, safe womb. “Those poor trads, he thought. We love ‘em. We need ‘em. But they have no idea what they’re missing.”

End