Heavier Heir - Part 3 (Patreon)

Additional Tier Exclusive | Heavy Load Spin-Off

Zeke scheduled a doctor’s appointment for Harry early in the morning. Getting the day off for both of them was easy—a text to Gerald was enough. Harry was still nervous about finding out the truth, but one look at his dad’s massive body—ready to burst—and the heaviness of his breathing made the decision obvious.

Anne stayed home with the nine‑month‑old sextuplets, already deep into the morning routine of bottles, naps, and constant movement. She kissed them both goodbye and told Harry to drive carefully, pretending not to know what was happening.

The ride to the clinic was quiet for a while. Harry kept his eyes on the road and his hands steady on the wheel. Zeke shifted in the passenger seat, unable to stay still for more than a few seconds at a time. His body protested every position now that he was two days overdue.

Zeke wore a massive t‑shirt, one of the biggest he owned, and it still strained over his belly. The fabric stretched tight across his tits and midsection. He groaned softly as he adjusted himself again, rubbing slow circles over the top as if trying to calm the pressure from within.

“Ugh,” Zeke breathed after another groan escaped him. “They’re restless today.” He lifted his shirt without thinking, exposing the taut, hairy stretch of his middle. His hands moved instinctively across it in long, soothing strokes.

Harry glanced over and swallowed hard. No matter how many times he saw it, the sight still stunned him—his dad’s belly looked unreal, immense, and perfectly round, the skin pulled so tight it gleamed faintly. The possibility that he would get that heavily pregnant scared Harry more than anything he had ever felt before.

Then, one of the babies stretched as if responding to Harry’s thoughts. The outline of a tiny foot pushed up at the top of Zeke’s belly, distorting the skin outward into a sharp bulge. Zeke sucked in a breath and groaned long, bracing himself against the seat as the movement rolled slowly across his gut.

Harry’s heart jumped. “Dad—are you okay?”

Zeke exhaled through a weak smile, gently rubbing the spot. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. They’re just running out of room. It happens more now.”

Harry nodded and turned his attention back to the road. He knew his dad could go into labor at any second, and it only added another layer of stress to his young mind. Still, he couldn’t help but move one hand to his own middle, feeling the undeniable belly where his flat abs had been only a few weeks ago. Fear tightened his throat—but alongside it came something else—something that felt almost like excitement.

Harry took a deep breath when he parked in front of the clinic.

“Dad, do you ever regret it?” he asked suddenly.

Zeke panted softly, still moving his hand over his belly. “Regret what?”

“The pregnancies,” Harry said. “Getting this big.”

Zeke smiled, his hand smoothing over the dome out of pure habit. “Not for a second. It’s hard. It’s uncomfortable. It hurts like hell sometimes. But…” He looked at Harry. “If you’re pregnant, you’ll understand. Feeling the babies move inside you changes everything.”

Right on cue, Zeke groaned again—louder and longer this time—and the entire belly tightened under his hands. Harry reached over instinctively, feeling the hairy dome shaking under his hand. Zeke caught his wrist gently as if to calm him down.

“Easy. It’s only Braxton Hicks,” Zeke said. “Nothing to worry about yet. Believe me, once the real show begins, you’ll know.”

Harry nodded, relaxing a bit. “Does labor hurt that much?”

Zeke let out a low whistle. “Yeah. It does. And judging by your boyfriend’s size, if you’re pregnant, those babies will be big.” He smiled teasingly. “But it’s worth it. More than worth it.”

Harry blushed at the mention of Jordan but smiled.

Getting Zeke out of the car took time. Harry moved carefully, bracing one arm around his dad’s back while Zeke shifted his weight forward inch by inch. Zeke tugged his shirt down over his belly again before stepping inside, though the fabric barely covered the whole dome and immediately rode back up as he waddled through the doors.

The receptionist barely finished greeting them before her eyes dropped to Zeke’s belly and widened—aware of his condition by now. “Oh—are you—”

“No, no. We have an appointment,” Zeke said, breathing a little harder from the walk.

A nurse took them in almost immediately, assuming the visit was for Zeke, which made sense—he looked ready to pop right there in the hallway. He had to explain several times that he was fine before the staff calmed down. Then he eased himself into a chair in the doctor’s office with a deep groan while Harry stood awkwardly beside him with his hands in his pockets.

When the doctor came in, his eyes immediately focused on Zeke’s belly. “I can’t believe you’re still pregnant,” he said.

Zeke nodded, chuckling. “I know. But we’re actually here for my son.”

Harry flushed, and the doctor looked at him, curious.

Zeke explained plainly. “Harry has been sick, bloated, and off for days now. His appetite has been out of control. And we want to know if he may be pregnant.”

The doctor blinked, then straightened as his professionalism snapped into place. “I understand. We’ll run some tests first. There are a lot of things that can cause abdominal bloating and the other symptoms you mentioned.”

Zeke didn’t budge. “He needs an ultrasound.”

There was a pause. Then a nod. “Alright. But let’s draw some blood first.”

They had to wait for the blood results, and Zeke shifted constantly in the waiting room. Harry watched every breath and every tightening, and anxiety buzzed under his skin at the possibility that he could be just as pregnant as his dad.

When a nurse called them in for the ultrasound, Harry could barely stand his anxiety.

He carefully lay back on the examination table. The thin paper crinkled loudly beneath him with every nervous shift of his weight. The exam room felt even smaller with Zeke there. He turned carefully and lowered himself into a chair with a strained grunt. He spread his knees wide to make room for the enormous belly.

The ultrasound technician walked in—and stopped short.

“Oh! Welcome back,” he said, genuinely surprised as his eyes took in Zeke’s size. The technician was familiar with Zeke after all these months. Then his gaze slid to Harry, staring for a moment longer than polite. “You are the son, right?”

Harry nodded, suddenly very aware of how exposed he felt lying there.

The technician smiled kindly and remained professional. He explained what he was going to do, then asked Harry to lift his shirt. The fabric came up, revealing Harry’s abdomen—nothing extreme, but rounded enough that nobody could brush it off as imagination. His belly felt tight under his own fingertips as he helped hold the shirt out of the way.

When the gel spread across Harry’s skin, he involuntarily sucked in a sharp breath at the cold shock of it. The room fell quiet, and the usual background sounds faded until all that remained was the low hum of the machine and the soft creak of the table as Harry shifted.

The technician slowly moved the wand, taking his time. Seconds passed, feeling like an eternity. Harry stared at the ceiling, with his heart pounding in his ears. Zeke watched the screen carefully, breathing heavily due to the position he sat in. His hand unconsciously tightened over his belly as if mirroring whatever was happening to his son.

The technician’s expression changed—slightly at first, then more shockingly. His brows drew together, and his mouth parted. “Well, I guess I must congratulate you. You’re pregnant, just like your dad,” he said carefully.

Harry’s face drained of color as the words landed. It felt like something had sucked all the air out of the room at once, and his chest tightened while his thoughts scrambled to catch up. His fingers curled into the paper beneath him as he stared at the screen without really seeing it.

“It’s not really a surprise, to be honest.” Zeke let out a long breath beside him, the way he’d learned to breathe through discomfort. “Is he having multiples?”

The technician kept working, moving the wand more carefully now, clicking rapidly as he adjusted angles and measurements. His eyes never left the screen. He gasped every other second, looking shocked to say the least, before he finally turned the monitor toward them.

“I don’t know how to explain this,” he said, almost mumbling. “There are nine babies.”

The screen showed labels—A through I—each marking a small presence. It wasn’t abstract anymore. It wasn’t a maybe. The babies were there.

“Nine?” Harry shouted, turning pale as a sheet. “WHAT?”

“It’s unprecedented, but with your dad’s record, we really don’t know what to expect anymore,” the technician added calmly, continuing his professional explanation. “Based on the size of the fetuses, you are about eight weeks pregnant.”

The room went impossibly still, like even the air had decided to stop moving.

At that exact moment, Zeke groaned loudly as his babies rolled hard inside him. The massive belly tightened and shifted under his hands. He leaned forward slightly, clenching his teeth, and riding out the movement while the timing made the whole situation feel surreal. Still, he leaned in closer, brushing his massive belly against Harry’s side. The contact was warm, and the motion of the babies somehow seemed to slow the spiral, even if only a little.

Harry’s voice cracked as everything hit him at once. “Dad—I can’t—I’m nineteen. I haven’t even started college. What will Mom say? What am I going to do with nine babies? And Jordan—what if he—”

“You’re gonna be okay,” Zeke said firmly, reaching to caress the side of Harry’s middle. “You’ve got me. Your mom will be excited—she really will. Your brothers will go wild. And honestly?” He huffed out a small, affectionate laugh. “I think Jordan will love the news.”

The panic didn’t vanish, not entirely. But it softened around the edges, just enough to breathe through. At the mention of Jordan, Harry felt something loosen inside him, and a small, shaky smile tugged at his lips before he could stop it. Deep down—beneath the fear, beneath the noise—he knew his dad was right. Jordan would love it.

Still, Zeke and Harry kept the news to themselves over the next few days.

It wasn’t easy. Harry carried the secret everywhere with him—literally. He didn’t know how to tell his mom, his brothers, and, more importantly, Jordan. Every time he thought about opening his mouth, the words tangled up and refused to come out. Zeke didn’t push. He stayed close instead, sometimes sitting beside Harry on the couch and pressing his huge belly against the young man. They tried to act as casual as possible through it all.

Then, in the middle of the night, a couple of days later, everything exploded into motion.

Harry woke to a sharp, strangled sound coming from down the hall. His bedroom door opened, and his mom stood there.

“Harry—” Anne said calmly. “Your dad’s in labor. His water just broke.”

Harry was on his feet instantly, quickly getting dressed to drive his dad to the clinic.

Zeke stood in the hallway, shirtless, and glistening with sweat. One hand braced against the wall. The other gripped the underside of his hairy belly as it tightened. His face was flushed, and his breathing came in short bursts. His massive tits leaked uncontrollably as thick trails of milk ran down his hairy belly.

“It’s time,” Zeke said, with a shaky voice. “They’re coming. Ugh! Now!”

Harry nodded and jumped into action.

The drive to the clinic felt unreal. Harry’s hands shook on the steering wheel as Zeke groaned beside him, as contractions came closer together. Every few minutes, Zeke cried out, clenching his jaw and tensing his whole body as another contraction tore through him. Harry talked nonstop, half to keep his dad focused, half to keep himself from panicking.

“You’ve got this, Dad!” he said after one of Zeke’s longest groans. “You already did it once; you can do it again.”

Zeke chuckled weakly, trying to catch his breath. “You make it sound like I’m a baby machine, son,” he teased. “Ugh! It never gets easier.”

When they arrived at the clinic a few minutes later, everything erupted into controlled chaos. Nurses moved quickly around Zeke, swinging doors open and wheeling equipment down the hall. Someone guided Zeke onto a bed almost immediately, helping him shift his weight while he groaned as another contraction hit him. Harry barely had time to process what was happening before they pulled him along with them.

Harry stayed with Zeke the entire time, just like his dad had asked him to weeks ago. He stood right beside the bed as nurses strapped monitors on, as best as they could, around such an immense belly. Nurses pressed their hands against Zeke’s middle to check positions, marveling at the babies’ size and clearly nervous about their number.

Zeke clutched Harry’s hand hard enough to leave marks, breathing rough as the pressure inside him built again and again.

Labor stretched on for hours. Raw groans tore out of Zeke as he bore down with everything he had. Sweat soaked the sheets beneath him, dampened his hair, and ran down his neck and torso. His belly tightened violently, and the skin pulled taut as it shifted with every push and every movement from the babies inside. Zeke screamed, cursed, gasped, and cried—then gathered himself and did it all over again.

Harry had never seen anything like it. He’d never heard his dad sound like that. Still, through every wave of pain, Zeke kept reaching for him, squeezing Harry’s hand whenever the pressure peaked. Harry squeezed back just as hard. Tears streamed freely down his face as he leaned close, encouraging his dad to keep pushing with all he had.

Between contractions, when the room quieted enough for Zeke to catch his breath, Harry felt his other hand absentmindedly drift to his own belly without thinking. He rubbed slow circles through his hoodie, soothing himself the same way he’d seen his dad do so many times. The realization slammed into him like a brick wall. In a few months, he would be right here, feeling this, living this, facing the same pain.

When the babies finally came—one after another, crying loudly, slick and red—Harry saw something in Zeke shift. The pain didn’t disappear. His body was still shaking, still strained to its limits. But everything was different.

Harry watched with stunned eyes as his dad held each baby as nurses placed them against his chest, exhausted beyond words but smiling tenderly. Zeke laughed through tears, whispering affectionate words to each tiny body right after they were born. When the staff asked Harry if he wanted to cut the cords, his knees nearly buckled. He hesitated only a second, but then he did it—every time—and felt an indescribable joy he had never experienced.

By the time the last baby boy was cleaned, wrapped, and settled, Harry was openly sobbing—overwhelmed by everything he’d seen, everything he’d felt, and everything he now knew was waiting for him. He couldn’t stop smiling, seeing his dad cry while hugging and breastfeeding each baby. Harry spent a long time there, observing the tender scene, rubbing his middle, and excitedly realizing that he didn’t want to avoid his reality anymore.

Hours later, Zeke lay propped up in the hospital bed, drained and sore, but glowing all the same. His skin still shone with a light sheen of sweat, his hair was damp and pushed back from his face, and his breathing was slow and finally even. The bed looked barely big enough for him now that the tension of labor had eased, but the fullness of his body remained.

Babies were everywhere—nestled carefully against his sides, tucked into soft blankets, clustered close so he could feel their warmth and hear their tiny sounds. Two of them lay in Zeke’s arms, nursing on his overfilled tits. The steady pull and release made him sigh with relief every few seconds as the pressure eased. The quiet sounds of swallowing filled the room, soothing in a way that made everything else fade into the background.

Harry sat nearby at the foot of the bed at first, then moved closer without noticing himself move. He couldn’t stop staring—at the six newborn boys, at his dad’s face, at the way he looked so worn out and so deeply happy at the same time. He immediately remembered the words his dad had said a few days ago about labor. “It’s worth it.”

When Anne arrived with Owen and Taylor, the room burst with excitement. They brought the older sextuplets in their strollers, and Jordan entered the room right behind them. The young man was holding two boxes of muffins—one for Zeke and one for Harry—slightly crushed at the corners from how tightly he’d been gripping them.

Jordan took a moment to process the sight of Zeke and the new babies, but then focused on Harry. The broadest smile immediately spread on his face. “Hey, how are you?” he asked, getting right beside Harry.

“I’m fine,” Harry responded, smiling shyly. “Dad did all the work, so… I’m just fine.”

Anne immediately noticed the connection between the two guys. She smiled, aware of everything that was happening. “Jordan’s such a great guy. He helped us get the sextuplets ready,” she said warmly, then glanced at Zeke and gave him a playful wink. “You were right about him. Harry’s lucky to have him.”

“MOM!” Harry shouted, blushing but smiling at the comment.

Zeke huffed out a tired laugh as Anne leaned in and kissed his lips.

That was when Harry felt his chest tighten. It was the right moment to come clean. “So… I’ve got something important to tell everyone.” He took a breath, then another, until he felt sure about his words. “I’m pregnant.” His voice shook, but the words came out clear enough.

The room froze.

“Jordan’s the father,” Harry added, looking up at the young man’s face. “There are nine.”

For a moment, nobody moved.

Then Anne crossed the room and pulled Harry into a firm hug. She held him like she always had when things felt too big. “I know,” she said softly near his ear. “Your dad told me. And I’m really happy to have grandkids.”

Owen and Taylor stared at Harry, clearly struggling to process the news. Then Owen broke the silence with a startled laugh. “Nine?”

Taylor blinked hard. “That’s a lot.”

Harry blushed even more, but both boys approached and wrapped Harry in a messy, tight hug, already talking over each other.

“I’ll be the favorite uncle,” Owen said immediately.

“No way,” Taylor shot back. “I’m better with babies.”

Harry laughed weakly, relaxing into his brothers’ embrace.

However, something was still missing. Jordan hadn’t moved. He’d gone pale, like his legs might give out beneath him. He saw the family lovingly supporting Harry, but he couldn’t move for what felt like an eternity. Then color rushed back into his face so fast it was almost alarming. A slow smile appeared on his lips—a wide and disbelieving grin he couldn’t stop.

Jordan pulled Harry into his arms, holding him like he was afraid to let go. He pulled the pregnant guy into a passionate kiss through tears as he cupped the back of Harry’s head.

“Are you serious?” Jordan whispered shakily.

Harry nodded firmly, and Jordan dropped to his knees without thinking, carefully lifting Harry’s hoodie and shirt and gently kissing the small curve of Harry’s abdomen.

“Hey,” Jordan said, like he was already talking to them. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… I’m your dad. And you can’t imagine how happy I am right now.”

The whole room smiled at the loving scene. The whole family talked about the newborn sextuplets and Harry’s coming babies for what felt like hours. Owen and Taylor were still shocked by the number of babies their brother was carrying, and Jordan couldn’t help but say that he was the one responsible for that. They laughed, but Jordan really meant it.

A while later, Harry excused himself to the bathroom, and the door opened again almost immediately behind him. Jordan slipped inside and shut the door softly, careful not to break whatever fragile bubble they’d stepped into. The room was small, so Jordan crossed the space in two steps and kissed Harry—more intensely than before.

Harry moaned in the back of his throat and kissed him back just as hard, grabbing onto Jordan’s jacket and pulling him closer until there was no space left between them. They bumped into the counter, laughed breathlessly for half a second, and then went right back to kissing like they couldn’t get enough.

Jordan pulled back just long enough to cup Harry’s face and brush his thumbs on his cheeks. “I love you,” he said. “I can’t believe this is real. I can’t believe we’re pregnant.” He shook his head, smiling helplessly. “Nine. We’re having nine.”

Harry laughed softly, still holding onto him. “After how much time we’ve spent together,” he teased, “I’m honestly surprised it’s only nine, big stud.”

Jordan grinned and kissed him again, deeper this time, sliding his hands to Harry’s back, holding him like he needed to feel every inch of him right now. Harry melted into it, threading his fingers into Jordan’s hair.

“Are we really doing this here?” Jordan whispered, awed and breathless.

Harry nodded, smiling against his mouth. “Yeah. We are,” he said, nudging his pants lower to reveal his plump bubble butt. He slowly turned to lean forward against the sink with a playful wink. “C’mon, big stud,” he whispered, glancing back over his shoulder. “Show me how you manage to pump me so full of babies.”

Jordan bit his lower lip, placing his hands on Harry’s hips as his cock hardened. He kicked his own pants aside, all restraint gone as he closed the distance, brushing his 12.5-inch-long shaft against Harry’s ass. “I can’t wait to see you all big and heavy with my kids. We’ll have so much fun,” he said, pushing forward and making Harry cry out in bliss.

...

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PS: Hey everyone, this story takes place in the "Heavy" universe, following Zeke's eldest son, Harry, from "Heavy Load." Part 2 takes place around the same time as Heavy Load's Epilogue; there's actually a scene there that was in that Epilogue. ENJOY!