Heavier Heir - Interlude 1 (Patreon)

Additional Tier Exclusive | Heavy Load Spin-Off

In the evening, after he gave birth to his second set of sextuplets, Zeke was alone in his hospital room again. His family had gone home after spending a few hours talking and celebrating the news about Harry’s pregnancy. Zeke had screamed, cried, smiled, and laughed so much in the last twenty-four hours that it barely felt like he’d left home in labor just the night before. But now, everything felt peaceful.

The whole place was quiet, finally. Nurses had dimmed the lights, soft enough that the corners of the room blurred into shadows. There was a sense of intimacy in the room despite the clinical setting. The chaos of labor was long gone. There were no hurried footsteps or clipped voices, and no babies stretching his body beyond limits. Now he could only hear the faint hum of hospital equipment and the distant sounds of the ward settling into the night.

Zeke was propped up in the bed, shirtless, because anything touching his skin felt wrong right now—too tight, too abrasive, too much. Even the sheets felt too harsh against some areas. He wore the loosest shorts he owned, no underwear, because his lower body was even more sensitive than the rest of him.

His perineum still felt strained. A deep ache shot through with little sparks of electricity every time he shifted. It wasn’t only the hole where the babies had come out—it was everything around it. Muscles felt stretched beyond memory—tender and tight at the same time—as if they hadn’t fully realized the work was over yet. His hips ached intensely in the joints, and the soreness radiated in all directions.

Even his bull balls were hypersensitive to the point of distraction, hanging heavy and sore. Every small movement sent a dull throb through him. His cock felt raw and needy despite not having been touched at all—overstimulated, almost buzzing, like his body was still running on labor instincts, unsure how to shut anything down yet.

His whole body felt wrecked in that specific way that only giving birth to six huge babies could leave behind.

His hairy belly had deflated after labor, but it hadn’t disappeared—far from it. It was still broad and heavy, soft in a way that felt unfamiliar after so many months of incredible fullness. The skin was loose in places, oversensitive everywhere, and still warm and reactive. His hand drifted there without thinking, spreading over the softened curve, already missing the constant pressure and movement that had filled him for months.

But his chest was the real problem right now.

His tits were immense—tight, swollen, and glossy under stretched skin. Veins stood out faintly beneath the surface, branching and pulsing as if working overtime to keep the mounds productive. They still ached with pressure even after feeding twelve babies earlier in the day. Damp trails marked where milk had leaked and dripped, even darkening the sheets beneath him. Every breath made his tits feel heavier. Every small shift sent ripples through them sharp enough to make his jaw tighten.

His nipples were sore and raw, rubbed tender from hours of feeding. They felt swollen and overworked, sensitive to the point where even the air brushing them made Zeke flinch. It hadn’t only been the six newborns—when the first set of sextuplets had come earlier, they’d demanded Daddy’s milk. Zeke had spent the day cycling them in and out—a dozen babies total. He could still feel the mouths tugging and sucking over and over until his nipples burned and throbbed, left puffy, overstimulated, and aching long after the last feeding ended.

Everything hurt—his hips, his thighs, his back, and deep inside where the ache pulsed. But layered beneath all of it was something sharper and more insistent.

Horniness. Desperate need for touch.

His body hadn’t calmed down after labor. If anything, it felt louder and overstimulated. The sudden emptiness in his womb felt wrong and disorienting, like they had taken away something essential. He was exhausted, still trembling with aftershocks that weren’t full contractions but close enough to make him gasp. But more than anything, he was painfully horny, blue-balled to the point where his thoughts kept circling back to the same two things: fuck and cum.

He wanted it. Badly.

Zeke looked around the quiet room, trying to slow himself down. He thought of Anne, his loving wife. Of Owen and Taylor, his teen sons. Of the first set of sextuplets, asleep at home. Then of Harry and Jordan, and the nine babies growing in Harry’s womb right now. His eyes drifted to the six newborn boys sleeping peacefully in their bassinets, and despite the ache in his body, he smiled. Pride settled in his chest alongside the soreness.

That was when the door opened.

Gerald walked in as if he owned the place, dressed casually in jeans and a snug t-shirt that clung to his well-built frame—completely at ease. His broad shoulders filled the doorway for a moment before he stepped in and closed the door behind him. He looked calm and confident, cocky in that familiar way that always made Zeke’s stomach tighten with lust—even when he was completely wiped out.

He carried a box of donuts in one hand. And in the other, a paper bag Zeke recognized instantly—pizza rolls from his favorite place.

“Hey,” Gerald said casually, scanning Zeke’s body with slow appreciation as a smirk spread on his lips. “Figured you’d be starving. You always are after days like this. Or every day, to be fair,” he added, chuckling.

Zeke let out a rough laugh, and relief washed over him. “You have no idea,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve eaten properly since yesterday. Or the day before.”

Gerald didn’t comment. He carefully set the food down on Zeke’s lap like it was instinct—or maybe just something he’d done too many times before. Zeke grabbed it immediately, barely thinking, his body reacting before his pride could catch up. He started eating—slow at first, then faster as the hunger kicked in. Crumbs fell against his hairy chest, mixing with the dampness already there, but he didn’t mind—at all.

Gerald watched him for a moment—really watched—and smiled before turning to the babies. His movements softened as he brushed a finger along a tiny cheek, letting one newborn curl a hand around his finger. There was pride in his face and tenderness. But also something possessive—something he didn’t bother hiding at all.

“You did well,” Gerald said, briefly watching Zeke eat in bed. “Again. Big boys. Just like the first set. Strong like their dad,” he added, playfully winking.

Zeke smiled around a mouthful of food. “Sounds like you’re taking credit.”

Gerald smirked. “Oh, I am. I’m pretty much responsible for them getting so big, after all.” He moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed. “I took good care of you in all possible ways.”

The mattress dipped, shifting Zeke’s weight and pulling a moan from his mouth.

Before either of them could say anything, the door opened again. A nurse walked in, smiling gently as she checked the bassinets. The babies barely stirred, deeply asleep, bundled, and warm. “Nursery time. Daddy needs some rest,” she whispered kindly, glancing at Zeke and gesturing toward him. “I’ll bring them back later if they get hungry. I really recommend you take a nap in the meantime.”

Zeke nodded and took a deep breath as the nurse carefully wheeled them out. The room felt emptier afterward in a way that made his chest ache—but also looser, like his body finally had permission to fall apart. Or to focus on something else.

Now it was just him and Gerald.

“So,” Gerald asked quietly, scanning Zeke’s body, “how are you really feeling?”

Zeke exhaled, not bothering to soften it. “Heavy. Sore,” he said. “Empty.” He swallowed. “And not in the ways that you would expect.”

Gerald’s hand came to his abdomen. Zeke flinched at first—the skin there was tender, almost too sensitive—but Gerald adjusted instantly, easing the pressure without pulling away. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I can see that.” His hand drifted upward, sliding over Zeke’s ribs and then under the underside of his tits.

The reaction was instant.

Zeke gasped, sharp and helpless. Milk leaked immediately, soaking the sheets in thick spurts. A broken moan tore out of him as his back arched slightly off the bed on instinct, pushing into the touch like his body knew exactly what it needed.

Gerald chuckled softly, brushing his fingers over a sensitive spot again. “Still overflowing,” he whispered. “Damn, look at you. You look great.”

Zeke groaned, drifting into a disbelieving laugh—unable to control his body. “I swear,” he panted, “I’m nothing more than a baby factory crossed with a dairy plant at this point.”

Gerald leaned down, softly kissing Zeke’s lower abdomen. He did it again and again, each one warm and tender as his lips sank lightly into the soft, hairy skin. His mouth dragged slightly as he moved, breath hot, stubble rasping just enough to make Zeke shiver. The kisses followed the softened skin upward, pausing now and then to breathe him in.

When Gerald reached Zeke’s chest, he slowed even more. His mouth pressed into one tit, kissing it deeply, then trailing along the underside where the skin was most sensitive. A faint, wet sound followed each kiss as milk slicked the surface, and Gerald hummed softly against him—the vibration making Zeke gasp and shiver. He brushed his lips over the swollen flesh, teasing and letting his mouth barely graze skin before kissing again.

Zeke trembled hard.

“You’re the best-looking baby factory I’ve ever seen,” Gerald said between kisses. “And the most productive dairy plant ever.”

Zeke was panting by now and stopped pretending he was fine. His voice dropped, wrecked and honest. “I needed you,” he admitted, his hands gripping the sheets as his hips shifted without permission. “My body hasn’t shut up all night. I feel like I’ve been longing for you for days, months. Please.”

Gerald smirked and stayed close, teasing. “I fucked you yesterday morning.”

Zeke knew he was right but didn’t mind. “Boss,” Zeke panted. “Please. Fuck me. NOW!”

Gerald’s hands slid to Zeke’s hips, kneading the thick, heavy flesh and making him groan openly. He leaned in and playfully bit Zeke’s ear before whispering. “You remember the last time we were here,” he said. “The night after you gave birth to the first set.”

Zeke nodded, breathless. “I know.”

“And you know what will happen if we do this now,” Gerald added softly.

Zeke didn’t hesitate. “We’ll have more babies.” He spread his legs on instinct despite the soreness. His body opened reflexively to Gerald’s touch. “I’m counting on it.”

Gerald smiled and reached for Zeke’s shorts to pull them down, taking his time, inch by inch. He let the fabric slide and bunch slowly, as if unwrapping something beloved. Each small movement made Zeke gasp.

When the shorts finally came away, the sight underneath hit hard.

Zeke was bare, heavy, and flushed all over. His wide hips framed a body that still looked full and powerful, thighs thick and solid as they spread against the bed. His postpartum belly sat soft and rounded, sensitive and warm, rising and falling with quickened breaths. Above it all, his tits were huge and swollen, glossy with stretched skin, leaking steadily—milk slipping free in unstoppable trails that soaked into the sheets.

And between his legs, his 8-inch-long cock stood hard and aching, flushed dark with need, veins standing out as it twitched faintly on its own. His hairy balls hung heavily and painfully full, the skin stretched tight and glossy, pulled low by their weight. The whole sight was overwhelming. Zeke’s body lay completely open and begging to be touched.

Gerald froze, just looking. “Damn,” he breathed. “You’re unreal.”

Zeke trembled under the attention, spreading his legs wider without being asked, offering himself completely. “Now,” he begged. “Please.”

Gerald stripped quickly—then slowed down once the last barrier between them was gone. He stood there naked, unselfconscious and cocky, knowing exactly what his body did to Zeke. Broad shoulders flared into a thick chest, and a light dusting of hair caught the low light. His arms hung strong and relaxed at his sides, with faintly visible veins beneath the skin. Everything about him looked solid, in a way that felt almost overwhelming right now.

Zeke watched him with glassy eyes. His chest heaved as his whole body reacted as if it knew exactly what was coming. The contrast between them was almost painful—Gerald looked put together and powerful, like nothing could shake him. Zeke felt wrecked by comparison—overfull in some places, aching and empty in others, rounded and thickly hairy. His skin was flushed and hypersensitive from everything he’d gone through. The sight alone made Zeke shudder, and a needy, involuntary sound slipped out.

When Gerald’s cock stirred and hardened fully—9 inches long, ridiculously thick, heavily veined, and imposing—it hit Zeke too hard. It stood out starkly, impossible to ignore, and Zeke’s focus locked onto it until nothing else existed. His hips shifted on instinct, and whatever control he’d been clinging to vanished under the weight of pure, overwhelming lust.

Gerald slowly climbed onto the bed, and Zeke gasped as the mattress shifted beneath them. His ass hole squirmed with need, responding before he could catch up. Gerald settled himself between Zeke’s thighs, so close that his hard cock pressed and throbbed against him. Then he lifted Zeke’s legs and brushed his shaft against the sensitive perineum. That contact alone made Zeke’s breath stutter. A broken moan slipped out as his hands flew up to clutch Gerald’s shoulders, desperate for the anchor.

“Oh, fuck,” Zeke whispered, raw and broken. “You feel—”

Gerald smirked and leaned down, kissing Zeke before he could finish the thought. The kiss started slow and deep—claiming—and reminded Zeke who always took control in moments like this. Zeke melted into it instantly, opening his mouth as his hips jerked up without any restraint. He whined softly when Gerald pressed closer. The sensation was almost too much for his overstimulated body to bear.

Gerald entered Zeke carefully, moving slowly because he knew how sore Zeke was. Zeke panted and moaned, pleading for more between breaths. Gerald smiled and pushed all the way inside until he was fully in, his body resting firmly against Zeke’s and squeezing his balls between them. The pressure pulled louder sounds from deep in his throat. Zeke was breathless and helplessly honest, unable to hold the sounds. His legs drew up and hooked around Gerald’s waist, trembling with the effort but refusing to let him pull away.

Gerald gave Zeke a few seconds to adjust before he started moving, sliding his cock in and out slowly at first. He knew how sensitive Zeke was, but that only made every movement hit harder. Zeke felt every inch of Gerald inside him—every shift, every throb—and he groaned openly. His head tipped back into the pillows, and his fingers dug into Gerald’s back.

“Slow—” Zeke panted, then immediately contradicted himself. “No—please—more.”

Gerald chuckled under his breath and gave him exactly what he asked for. He started moving faster. Zeke’s body reacted violently. His chest moved heavily with every motion, his tits jostling uncontrollably, bouncing so hard they brushed his face with each thrust, then falling heavily again. They were so sensitive that the movement alone made him cry out. Milk spilled freely in thicker streams now, streaking down his torso and smearing across the bed and Gerald’s body, a mess neither of them tried to avoid.

Zeke’s belly moved too—soft and heavy, still holding the shape of pregnancy—brushing against Gerald’s abs with every thrust, like a reminder of how recently it had been stretched tight with their kids. Zeke’s ass cheeks jiggled as Gerald slammed into him, and the sound of their bodies colliding grew louder by the second. Even Zeke’s balls bounced hard with the motion, adding another layer of sensation to his overwhelmed body.

Zeke tried to stay quiet to avoid drawing attention, biting his lip and swallowing sounds, but it only made his reactions stronger. His breathing turned ragged. His hands slid up to desperately wrap around Gerald’s neck, afraid the pleasure would fade if he let go.

“Harder,” Zeke begged, finally. His voice broke, pleading without shame. “Please—don’t stop. Fuck me harder.”

Gerald didn’t tease him this time. He moved faster and more decisively, clearly loving the way Zeke’s body reacted—how every part of him bounced and shook under the force. Zeke’s cock started leaking precum heavily, almost as much as his tits. His balls felt ready to burst as if they were filling up from the arousal and stimulation.

The moment kept going, harder and faster, each thrust making Zeke see stars. His body lost more control as Gerald pounded into him. He was overwhelmed, completely out of his mind, his body burning with need. He couldn’t hold back when his cum finally shot from his cock slit, coating his hairy middle and splashing across Gerald’s abs.

Zeke was almost passing out by then, made worse by feeling Gerald’s cock throbbing inside him as pre-cum leaked into him. Then, Gerald’s movements grew more erratic as his control slipped just enough to send Zeke’s pulse racing.

Gerald warned him between thrusts and groans, “I’m close. So close.”

Zeke answered instantly, breathless and desperate. “Yes,” he gasped. “Please. Knock me up. Fill me up. I want you to—”

Gerald pushed all the way in and let go, shooting a massive load into Zeke’s guts. It was so much that Zeke could feel his belly bloating again, after feeling empty all day. His body reacted immediately. His breath broke into a choked sound as pressure replaced the hollow ache inside him. It was overwhelming—good in a way that made him dizzy. His body finally relaxed—something it hadn’t managed since before labor—even as he trembled.

They stayed like that for a moment, pressed together, both of them breathing hard, slick with sweat and milk. They shared a few more brief kisses while Gerald’s cock still throbbed in Zeke’s hole. They laughed softly, silently aware of what they had just done—and how this moment would shape their lives again for the next nine months.

Their intensity seemed to fade, at least for Gerald. “I think my job here is done,” he whispered as he tried to move away. “I should let you rest.”

Zeke didn’t let him. His legs tightened around Gerald’s waist, keeping him right there. He laughed weakly, still panting for breath. “I’ve given you twelve babies in two pregnancies,” he said slowly. “I think I’ve earned a second round.”

Gerald laughed and leaned in to kiss Zeke. “That sounds fair.”

“Would you help me change positions?” Zeke asked softly. “Hands and knees, please.”

Gerald smiled, pulled his cock out with a wet pop, and carefully helped Zeke reposition. Zeke’s body shifted with effort; every movement drew attention to how much he’d changed. His wide hips rolled as he shifted, his heavy butt pulling him down into the mattress at first. Moving so much mass with a sore body required time, even with help—but once he managed, the sight was breathtaking.

His belly hung softly beneath him, still rounded and loose, swaying faintly with each breath. His heavily milk-laden tits drooped, swollen and overfull, tugging downward under their weight. His hips and ass looked immensely thick and perfectly round, jiggling as he adjusted his stance and spread his knees further apart. Each motion made his heavily hanging balls sway like wrecking balls, still overfilled with cum. And his cock twitched against his lower hairy belly, sending shivers up his spine.

The position left nothing hidden from view. Zeke felt the stretch, the pull, and the way his body was completely on display. Even he could feel how exposed he was—how open and vulnerable that posture made him. But it was the perfect representation of how he wanted to be before Gerald. Zeke’s asshole squirmed right there, already responding to what was coming.

Gerald went quiet for a second, just processing the sight.

Zeke didn’t wait. He pushed his ass back instinctively, pushing against Gerald’s cock, moaning as he looked over his shoulder. “Don’t just stare,” he whispered. “All yours, boss.”

That was all the invitation Gerald needed. He gripped Zeke’s broad hips and pushed himself fully back inside in one smooth move. Round two had already begun—his mind racing ahead to all the fun they would have in the months to come.

*

The following morning, Zeke could barely contain his excitement. The memories of the previous nights were still vivid in his mind and body, but the best part was that the doctor had decided they were all safe to go home. He was healing well. The newborns were perfect. Everything was fine. There was no medical reason to keep them longer.

“Just take it easy,” the doctor had said, tapping the chart. “A few weeks of rest. Let your body recover. And I’m sure you’ll be back to work soon enough.”

Zeke nodded and smiled, as he always did.

He was in bed, with one hand resting on his belly, watching his family move around the room like a well-practiced team. Anne was gathering bags and double-checking that nothing had been left behind. Owen and Taylor were near the door, arguing softly over whose turn it was to push which stroller, while the older sextuplets babbled happily, blissfully unaware of how much space they took up in everyone’s lives now.

Harry and Jordan stood a little closer together than necessary as they maneuvered the stroller holding the six newborns. Harry looked tired but glowing, tenderly watching his newest brothers while his hand instinctively moved to his middle. Jordan kept one hand firmly on the handle and the other near Harry’s back, like he was ready to catch him if he so much as wobbled. Every so often, he leaned in to whisper something quiet to Harry, making him smile.

The way Jordan moved around Harry made something warm bloom in Zeke’s chest. It wasn’t only pride—it was instinct. Jordan already looked like a dad guarding his world. He couldn’t be happier for them. Harry had found a perfect dad for his children.

“So, are we ready?” Taylor asked, already moving forward.

Owen pushed his stroller through the doorway. “Yeah! C’mon. Let’s go before Dad has even more kids.”

“Hey,” Zeke called lightly, blushing deeply. “I heard that.”

Both boys laughed, waving over their shoulders as they disappeared down the hall. Then, Harry and Jordan went next, carefully guiding the newborns out.

Harry paused long enough to glance back. “You good, Dad?”

“Always,” Zeke said. And he meant it.

Once the room was quieter, Anne came back to the bedside with a folded pile of clothes. “Do you want help getting dressed?” she asked gently.

Zeke shook his head. “I’ve got it. Still strong enough for that.”

Anne snorted softly, leaned down, kissed his lips, and squeezed his shoulder. “Alright, tough guy. We’ll be right outside.” She left the clothes within reach and headed out.

When the door clicked shut, Zeke sat there for a moment, letting the silence settle. Then he slowly pushed himself up. His body protested immediately. A full-body soreness flared—hips, back, thighs, all still stretched and tender. He hissed quietly through his teeth and steadied himself. The movement made his tits jostle more than he liked, but it was impossible to avoid. Anne had suggested a bra, but it was out of the question for Zeke.

“No way I’m wearing a bra,” he whispered to himself, adjusting his stance.

He rested a hand on his belly out of habit, feeling the remaining softness. But when he pressed a little more firmly, he felt a dull fullness there—Gerald’s cum loads. The memory of the night before flickered through his mind, making his cock stir faintly. He smiled to himself, shaking his head, trying not to let his body drift down that path because he needed to head home right now.

He let his shorts slide to the floor, and standing there naked, he saw his reflection in the window. The sight made him chuckle under his breath. He looked so changed. His belly hung lower, relaxed but unmistakably shaped by what it had carried. His chest was enormous, with nipples that defied logic. His hips were thick, his ass massive. Every rounded inch of his body still screamed pregnant.

“Well,” he whispered, smiling. “You’ve been through worse.”

He reached for the clean shorts Anne had left and took his time pulling them on. No underwear—there was no way he was dealing with that right now. He moved carefully, easing the fabric over his hips and around his thighs. Making room to fit his still-sensitive cock and balls took time. Covering his massive ass required him to shift gently to let everything sit right.

The t-shirt came next. Zeke lifted it slowly, carefully pulling it down over his head. The fabric stretched snugly over his tits before settling over his middle. Without the huge belly pushing it forward, the shirt felt different now—looser at the waist, tighter up top.

He huffed a quiet laugh. “It won’t go any better than this, I guess.”

Bending to pick up the discarded shorts made him groan outright. He braced one hand on his knee, the other instinctively sliding to the small of his back as he straightened again. Still, he headed for the door, moving with a familiar waddle. His body felt heavy, sore, and deeply used—but solid and ready for more.

As he reached the doorway, he paused and glanced once more at the empty room. “Well,” he said to no one in particular, and a smile tugged at his lips. “See you in a few months.”

...

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PS: Hey everyone, this story takes place in the "Heavy" universe, following Zeke's eldest son, Harry, from "Heavy Load." But this Interlude focuses back on Zeke. ENJOY!