What are the Odds? 3 (Patreon)

Support Tier Exclusive

A few days later, James finally scheduled the appointment, and it turned into something far more serious than he expected. He had walked into the hospital assuming he would leave with instructions to sleep more, eat healthier, or maybe stop drinking so much coffee. Instead, every test seemed to make the doctors more confused.

By the second hour, James had already given enough blood to feel lightheaded. By the fourth hour, James had answered the same questions so many times that he began to sound irritated whenever someone asked if there was any chance he had been exposed to unusual chemicals, medications, or experimental treatments.

“No,” James said for what felt like the hundredth time while another physician reviewed his chart. “I work in an office. The most dangerous thing I touch is stale coffee.”

The doctor gave a distracted nod while continuing to stare at the test results.

The doctors didn’t look confident anymore, and it made James increasingly uneasy. Every time someone reviewed his scans or bloodwork, their expression changed from professional calm to visible confusion. They only repeated that James’s hormone levels were completely abnormal, his metabolism had changed in less than a month, and his body was producing chemicals that should not have existed in a male patient.

At one point, James watched one doctor pull another into the hallway, only for a third physician to join them a few moments later while they all kept looking back toward the room and speaking in low voices. James sat on the edge of the exam table with his arms crossed tightly over his chest as his nerves got worse with every passing minute.

Eventually, one of the physicians came back inside holding a clipboard. “Okay,” he said, in the cautious tone people used when they were trying not to alarm someone, “some of your hormone markers resemble pregnancy hormones.”

James stared at him for a second, then laughed because it sounded less believable than aliens. “I’m sorry,” he said, trying not to laugh harder, “what?”

The doctor looked uncomfortable. “Biologically, that should not be possible,” he admitted.

“Exactly,” James replied. “That’s because I’m a man.”

“We know,” the doctor said. “Which is why we’re continuing testing.”

The problem was that none of the other explanations fit either. They looked for tumors, endocrine disorders, internal growths, hormonal diseases, metabolic abnormalities—anything that could explain why James’s body chemistry suddenly resembled an impossible medical contradiction. But every new result only made things stranger, and before James realized it, hours had already passed.

James went through scans, blood pressure tests, additional blood draws, reflex exams, and enough questions to make his head pound. By late afternoon, he felt drained, sitting slumped in another chair while several doctors argued over the latest results near the door.

One older physician finally rubbed at his forehead before looking back at James. “There may be some kind of internal blockage or abnormal mass,” he said slowly. “At this point, an ultrasound might give us a clearer image of what’s happening internally.”

James nodded because he would have agreed to anything by then if it meant finally getting answers. Within minutes, he was lying back against the examination table while the technician prepared the machine nearby.

“It might feel cold,” the technician warned as he spread gel across James’s middle.

James barely reacted. He was so exhausted that he felt disconnected from his body. The technician pressed the scanner against the slight curve of his abdomen and moved it across the skin while the monitor beside the bed flickered with shifting gray images.

At first, nothing seemed unusual. The technician stayed calm and focused on the screen while one of the doctors stood nearby reviewing notes, but then the scanner suddenly stopped moving altogether. The technician’s posture stiffened, his eyes locked onto the monitor, and all the professionalism disappeared from his face so quickly that it made James’s stomach tighten.

Another doctor stepped closer to look, then another joined him, and suddenly nobody in the room seemed willing to speak for a while. The older physician moved closer to the monitor with a stunned expression that James had never seen on a doctor before.

James swallowed hard. “So?” he said, with a shaky voice, “someone needs to explain why everybody suddenly looks haunted.”

The doctor slowly reached over and turned the monitor toward him. James looked at the screen, and for a few seconds, his brain couldn’t understand what he was seeing. There were tiny moving shapes inside him, and after a few stunned moments, James realized they weren’t random shapes but tiny bodies, with small heads and little limbs moving against each other.

James stared blankly at the monitor for what felt like an eternity. But what made his stomach drop was realizing there wasn’t only one fetus visible on the screen, but several of them crowded together.

The doctor looked just as shocked as James felt. “You’re pregnant,” he said, almost as if he still couldn’t believe the words himself. “With octuplets.”

James’ eyes widened, his face turned pale, and his ears started ringing so loudly he could barely hear the rest of the room anymore. He kept staring at the screen while his brain desperately searched for some logical explanation that would make the image stop meaning what it obviously meant. But there was no logical explanation for any of it because he was a man, and this shouldn’t have been possible.

The doctors themselves looked shaken. One of the younger physicians actually stepped back from the monitor and rubbed both hands over his face. “This can’t be real,” he said.

The technician still hadn’t taken his eyes off the screen.

Meanwhile, James couldn’t stop looking at the eight tiny bodies moving inside him, packed impossibly close together. Seeing them made the slight heaviness in his stomach suddenly feel terrifyingly real. “That’s impossible,” James whispered.

The older doctor nodded in disbelief. “Biologically, yes,” he said. “And yet, here we are.”

That somehow made everything worse because nobody in the room, including the doctors themselves, understood how this had happened. They kept staring between the monitor and James’s chart, as if reality had stopped making sense.

The doctor explained that the fetuses appeared healthy and unusually large for octuplets at this stage, but James barely processed most of it. His entire understanding of his body had shattered in the span of a few seconds. Only a few weeks earlier, he had been in a hotel room with Oliver after a reckless night at a bar, and now he was somehow pregnant with eight babies that Oliver had put into him.

By the time James left the hospital later that evening, he felt detached from his body. He sat alone in his car, gripping the ultrasound photos with both hands while staring blankly through the windshield. Every time he tried to process the number “eight,” his brain rejected it. He looked down at the subtle belly beneath his shirt and pressed a shaking hand against it.

“How am I going to explain this to your dad?” he said without noticing his words leaving his mouth until he realized that he was talking to the babies, talking about Oliver as their dad. “Okay, now I’ve lost my mind. I’m talking to my belly.” He laughed, shaking his head.

A couple of days later, James stood in Oliver’s office holding a folder against his chest while Oliver worked through emails on his laptop behind the desk. James was still trying to find a good way to tell Oliver the news, but his mind still couldn’t process what the doctors had told him. Every time he looked at the ultrasound photos, his brain stopped functioning as it should. Knowing that he had eight babies growing inside him sounded insane.

Oliver finally looked up from the screen after noticing James hadn’t spoken yet. “You okay?” he asked, frowning slightly.

James opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. Suddenly, the conversation felt impossible, and fear took over him.

Oliver slowly closed the laptop. “James,” he said, “you’re starting to scare me a little.”

James let out a weak, nervous laugh. “Honestly,” he replied, “that’s fair. I’m scared.”

For a few seconds, he tried to force the words out while Oliver watched him with growing concern. James kept unconsciously resting one hand against his belly, as if his body already wanted to protect it even though his brain still hadn’t caught up.

“Boss,” he started.

Oliver blinked. “Okay, now you’re definitely terrifying me,” he said. “Why are you talking like you’re about to confess to murder?”

James laughed despite himself. “This might actually be worse,” he admitted. “Or I don’t know, but it’s definitely the opposite of murder.”

Oliver leaned back slowly in his chair, studying him more seriously. “What is it?”

James took a long breath before forcing himself to say it. “I’m pregnant.”

The silence that followed felt enormous as Oliver stared at him without moving, and James could practically see the boss’s brain trying to reconcile the impossible idea of James, a man, somehow being pregnant.

Oliver blinked. “I’m sorry,” he said very calmly. “What?”

James swallowed hard. “I know how it sounds,” he said quickly. “Believe me, I know. The doctors spent an entire day trying to prove it was literally anything else.”

Oliver kept staring at him in total silence.

James pulled the ultrasound photos out of the folder with shaking hands before crossing the office and placing them carefully on the desk. “I did the math,” he added. “The babies are yours. Of course, they’re yours. You’ve been the only one who—you know.”

Oliver looked down at the photos, confused to say the least. His expression slowly changed as his brain caught up with what he was seeing in the scans: several fetal images, medical labels, measurements, and eight distinct shapes packed tightly together on the ultrasound and labeled A through H. He leaned forward slightly, staring harder at the photos as if making sure he wasn’t misunderstanding them.

“A, H—that’s eight?” he repeated slowly. “Octuplets?”

James nodded. “Apparently, when we do something,” he whispered, trying not to grin too much, “we massively overachieve.”

For a few seconds, Oliver remained quiet. He only held the scans as shock moved visibly across his face. Confusion, disbelief, concern, complete astonishment—James watched every emotion appear one after another.

Then Oliver suddenly leaned back in his chair and laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, still processing the news.

James let out a weak laugh. “I really wish I was.”

Oliver looked back down at the scans again. “You seriously couldn’t do anything halfway, huh?” he asked eventually, shaking his head in disbelief. “You had to go all the way up to eight?”

“Apparently, moderation isn’t one of our strengths.” James snorted despite the panic twisting in his stomach. “But I’m responsible for half of this. You and your ridiculously big cock did this to me. If anything, I’m the victim,” he said, using humor to ease the shock.

That made Oliver smile. He stood up from the chair, walked slowly around the desk, and got right behind James, immediately wrapping his arms around the pregnant guy’s waist to rest his hands on the slightly rounded abdomen.

“So,” the boss whispered. “We’re gonna be parents? To eight babies?”

James took a deep breath. “Seems like it.”

“Are you okay with it?” Oliver asked more softly,

That question hit harder than James expected. The fear and exhaustion he had been holding since the hospital suddenly felt dangerously close to spilling over and changing into an emotional breakdown. “Honestly?” he said. “I have no idea how I am supposed to feel.”

Oliver hugged him tighter, softly kissing James’s neck. “Well, if it helps somehow,” he whispered, moving his hands over the slightly rounded middle, “shock aside, I’m excited about becoming a dad. And eight babies? Man, that’s impressive.”

James laughed and relaxed into Oliver’s hug. “You say that because you’re not the one who’s pregnant,” he said quietly. “Imagine how big my belly will be at the end of this.”

“Oh, don’t even get started,” Oliver replied, pressing his front tighter against James’s back as his cock stirred in his pants. “I can’t wait to see you working here with a massive belly.”

James laughed, but deep down, he wondered how things would work between them, considering the news. But despite everything, he preferred to enjoy Oliver’s touch and soft voice while they rubbed the belly where their babies were starting to grow.

...

********

[Previous] | [●] | [Next]

PS: Plot submitted by a Support-tier member as part of the tier's benefits. AI Generated image only meant to illustrate the scene.