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Derek was hoping for some peace before the storm he knew was coming—labor. But it wasn’t that easy—his whole body felt on the verge of bursting.

Still, without really thinking about it, his fingers began to move over his taut middle. His thumbs caressed the sides of his belly, kneading where the tension held tight, and he winced when his fingers brushed a particularly sensitive spot.

A low breath escaped his lips as the touch helped him ride out the insistent ache, easing the tightness barely enough to stay comfortable.

His right hand slid across the curve, spreading his fingers wide as if he could somehow cover it all. He could still feel the heat and tension beneath his skin, but he had to enjoy these brief moments of stillness. A smile spread across his lips as his touch followed a surprisingly slow, smooth roll at the top of his belly. He knew the softness of that movement was only the first sign of sharper activity to come. By now, he had learned the babies’ patterns.

Derek extended his hand farther, trying to rub the front, aiming for his strained navel, but the belly pushed too far out for him to reach. As if in response, he felt something pressing hard from the inside, right above his belly button, leaving the visible impression of a foot on a spot he couldn’t reach. The skin stretched to its absolute limit, and every brush of his hand made it feel on the verge of tearing. He groaned loudly, tilting his head back in discomfort.

“Ugh. Slow down! Give your dad a break!” he said, strained. “You guys are too big.”

The pressure on that spot spread discomfort all over his body. It was always the same.

One hand drifted upward then, drawn by the ache in his chest. He cupped what he could of one of his rounded tits, then the other, and his hands couldn’t contain their size. His chest was tight, overfilled, and hypersensitive. He kneaded gently, brushing his thumbs over the plump curves, and the sensation made him pant heavily. His head tipped back against the couch as an involuntary groan slipped from his lips.

Warm trickles dampened his fingers as milk leaked freely, and the relief was sharp enough to make his whole body shiver.

He hissed softly, then exhaled, giving up on fighting it. “Unbelievable,” he whispered with a weak chuckle. “I can’t believe I have these—” He glanced down at himself, shaking his head at the sight of his rounded chest, the darkened nipples, and the milk flowing from them. “Boobs,” he added under his breath, almost as if saying the word softly would make them disappear.

Derek let himself sink deeper into the couch, finally allowing his body to relax. One of his hands returned to his bare middle, moving in absent circles over the tight skin as it shifted with restless motion. His other hand continued to massage his overflowing tits, his fingers slick and warm with milk. The leaking was almost impossible to stop.

He closed his eyes, breathing through the sensations, and trying to convince himself that everything would be alright. That once the babies were born, things would settle. He could handle being a dad again, even if six babies sounded absolutely insane. For a brief moment, wrapped in that fragile calm, he almost believed it.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered to himself and the babies. “Once you’re out, things go back to normal. I’ll get my body back, and we’ll be a big, happy family.”

Then, right after the last word left his mouth, something seized him from the inside.

The pressure returned without warning, not building politely as before but crashing down all at once. It stole Derek’s breath so completely that for a second, he couldn’t even gasp. His back arched hard off the couch as the force tore through his middle, and his hands clawed into his tight belly as if he could hold it together by will alone.

The pain crushed down on him without mercy, dragging a broken groan up his throat. He clamped his jaw shut instantly, biting down hard as tears spilled free and slid down his cheeks. The urge to cry out was overwhelming, but the thought of his boys in the next room made him stop. He swallowed the sound, forced it back down, and breathed in short, panicked bursts through his nose while his whole body trembled under the strain.

The pressure bore down harder—heavier than anything he’d felt before—compressing him from the inside as if everything shoved lower all at once. His belly felt impossibly tight beneath his hands, stretched beyond reason, and the babies reacted violently—kicks and stretches slamming against his skin, sharp bulges rising and fading everywhere at once. For a moment, it felt as if his body might give up, split apart under the demand.

Then, slowly—agonizingly slowly—it began to loosen.

The force receded inch by inch, leaving him collapsed back into the couch, drenched in sweat, and his chest heaving as air finally rushed back into his lungs. He shook uncontrollably, limbs weak, and eyes squeezed shut as he rode out the aftershocks. His body wasn’t practicing. These weren’t Braxton Hicks. It was the real deal.

When Derek could finally move again, he dragged in a long, shaky breath and released it through trembling lips. He swallowed hard and leaned to look down at his middle, dropping his voice to a whisper for the six lives moving inside.

“Okay, babies,” he said, weakly moving one hand along the taut skin. “Let’s not make this too dramatic, alright? We can do this nicely and smoothly.” His mouth twitched into a smile despite himself. “You go easy on me, and I promise I’ll buy you all the ice cream you want for the rest of your lives. Deal?”

As if answering him, all six responded at once with a long, powerful stretch that rolled through his middle. He could see hands and feet pressing out hard enough to warp the dome’s shape. The smile widened at the playful response, but the pressure was too intense for it to last.

Derek groaned softly as he tried to stay calm, even as the weight inside him shifted lower, heavier than ever, pushing down against his hips. No matter how much bravado he wrapped around himself, no matter how badly he wanted to stay in control, his body had already made its choice: the babies were coming, and it hurt more than he wanted to admit.

Some time passed—Derek wasn’t sure how long. Minutes blurred together as his breathing slowly evened out. He lay there with his head tipped back, one hand spread over his enormous belly as if anchoring himself to it. The room had gone quiet again, something that only happened when everyone moved carefully around something fragile—Derek’s calm.

That was when Marissa stood at the edge of the living room, wiping her hands on a towel. “Dinner’s ready,” she said softly, but stopped short when she really took in the scene.

Derek was lightly panting, eyes closed, rubbing his belly in slow circles. Thin trails of milk still dripped from his nipples, and some had dried in pale streaks along his sides where it had cooled against his skin. His shirt hung open and useless, his torso fully exposed, flushed and damp with sweat. He looked calm at first glance—too calm—but Marissa knew better.

His belly visibly shook. Bulges pressed outward in restless patterns, rising and fading beneath the taut skin. A tiny hand stretched along one side, then vanished. A foot pushed sharply near the top, distorting the curve for a second before easing back. The skin gleamed under the light, pulled tight enough to shine, and every movement was impossible to miss.

Then, suddenly, a powerful kick landed high and hard.

Derek gasped as the kick knocked the air straight out of him. His head snapped back against the couch cushion, and his fingers dug into his belly as the calm shattered.

Marissa smiled despite the worry and moved in close, sitting beside him. She kissed his cheek, then gently laid her hand over the spot where a small foot was still visibly straining outward. “Hey,” she whispered. “How are you doing?”

Derek turned his head toward her and managed a weak smile. “Please,” he said breathlessly, “please remind me to never drink at an office party again.”

She laughed, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I will. Though…” Her hand drifted slowly over his belly, then higher, across his heavy tits. “I can’t deny it’s amazing to see you like this. You’re doing so much.”

He huffed quietly. “Oh, come on!”

“I mean it,” she continued, almost whispering. “You’re the strongest, most handsome, beautifully round man I’ve ever seen. You look so manly. So fatherly.” Her fingers caressed his belly again, then brushed over his right nipple with a teasing smile. “Ready to provide food for these babies just like you provide for this family. Only differently.”

He snorted. “That’s a fancy way to say I’m a dairy cow.”

She laughed again, then kissed him softly. “You’re a great father to Tyler and Ben,” she said. “And you’re carrying six more on top of that—”

“Barely holding on,” Derek admitted, just for a second as his smile wavered. Then he straightened his shoulders again. “But I’ve gotta stay strong. For them.”

She kissed him again. “You are strong; nobody can say otherwise. And the big man of the house deserves a good dinner. Come on, the kids are waiting.”

Getting him to his feet was slow work. He groaned the whole way, instinctively trying to wave her off before finally letting her support him. When he was upright at last, another crushing wave hit him out of nowhere, and his knees buckled immediately.

“Ah—damn it—” he hissed, clutching his belly as Marissa grabbed him firmly to keep him from going down. “Sorry—sorry. Ugh—” he tried to look calm, but the pain was too intense.

She chuckled. “It’s okay. Breathe.”

He did, the way she’d taught him, squeezing his eyes shut until it eased.

“I guess this isn’t the first contraction?” she asked, knowing him well enough to recognize he’d been hiding the pain all along.

“I’ve had four like that since I got home,” he admitted. “About twenty minutes apart.”

Marissa’s expression shifted. “Then you need to eat. You’ll need the energy later.”

Derek nodded, and they walked to the dining room.

At the table, Derek felt heavier than ever. He removed his shirt the rest of the way and put on a massive T‑shirt that Marissa brought him. It barely skimmed the underside of his belly, but it worked well enough. He spread his legs wide beneath the table, bracing himself as subtle tightenings came and went, drowning groans he tried to disguise with forced smiles.

He talked about work, the boys’ day, and Marissa’s job to keep his thoughts from the pressure building deep within. He tried so hard to sound normal that the effort showed.

Then the worst contraction yet hit him.

It struck without warning, slamming into him mid-sentence, like something collapsing inside him. The pressure surged hard and fast, deeper than anything before, stealing his breath so entirely that the words died in his throat. His body went rigid in the chair, and his shoulders jerked as if bracing against an invisible blow. A low groan tore out of him before he could stop it, as both hands flew to his belly and the immense curve went rock-hard.

The table rattled softly as his knees shook beneath him. Pain radiated through his hips and spine, making his vision blur and dim at the edges. Tears broke free as he bowed forward, clenching his jaw tight as every muscle in his body strained to endure the contraction. Its force left him trembling and breathless as he fought to stay upright.

Tyler and Ben rushed to his side, pressing their small hands to his rigid, shaking middle.

“I’m okay,” Derek said breathlessly, forcing a weak smile. “I promise.”

Marissa came closer to rub his back. “Breathe, Derek.”

When the contraction passed, he let out a shaky breath and looked at the boys. “Alright,” he said, slipping into his dad voice and forcing a weak smile. “You two, help Mom with the dishes. I need to lie down a bit. I’ll do them tomorrow.”

They nodded immediately.

With help, Derek stood again—and immediately felt the change. His belly sat lower now, heavier, and dragging him into a wider stance. He spread his feet instinctively, moved one of his hands to the small of his back, and tried to act cool.

“I’ll be in bed for a while,” he said. “Call if you need anything.”

“Let me help you—to make sure you—” Marissa started, but Derek shook his head.

“I won’t get lost in my own house,” he said with a tired smile before kissing her. “Dinner was fantastic as always. I wish I could finish it, but I’m full—too full,” he added, playfully patting his belly to pretend that everything was alright.

He turned around and waddled away, moving carefully as if negotiating with gravity. His hips rolled, and his shoulders hunched forward around the pull of his middle. Immense pressure settled low on his hips, and his breathing turned raspy. He had to stop every other step to brace himself against the wall—just long enough to gather his cracking bravado and keep going.

“We’re almost there,” he said—partly meaning the bedroom, and partly meaning that his pregnancy was nearly at its end.

...

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