Neighbors - Part 11 (Patreon)

Leave and Leaks

By the time the hearing began on Monday, April 20, Chris felt like he had reached a strange intersection between confidence and dread. He had spent months preparing for this case, refining every argument and anticipating every angle. Professionally, he was where he needed to be. But physically, he had no control over his body. His belly rounded out the clean lines of his suits, and since his chest had filled out to soften his entire silhouette, it was impossible not to notice that something was going on.

Chris arrived early on the first day, walking into the courthouse with slow steps. His new suits helped a lot to give him some confidence, as the extra room allowed him to move without the constant fear of buttons straining or seams pulling.

For the first hour, he felt like himself again. However, as the day stretched on, the usual discomfort of the pregnancy hit him. Standing through opening arguments made his lower back strain worse. It started as a dull pressure, something easy to ignore, but gradually built into a persistent ache that made him change his weight from one foot to the other every other minute.

At one point, as he rose from his chair to address the court, he felt a slight imbalance that almost made him fall. Nobody reacted, but Chris noticed everything. As he spoke, his free hand occasionally moved down, resting on his belly for a second before returning to his notes. He thought the gesture was so brief that it could be mistaken for habit, but the more he did it, the more it looked like a ‘pregnant’ habit.

Underneath his composure, the twins were active all along, making him pause mid-sentence. To anyone watching, it looked like a thoughtful pause. To him, it felt like a small crack in the fragile facade of normalcy that he had practiced so much. Still, he survived.

The strain deepened on Tuesday. He had witness examinations and long stretches of standing, sitting, and moving between uncomfortable positions. By early afternoon, Chris felt the pressure building in his feet. His shoes felt tighter against the skin that had swollen over the course of the day. Seated at the counsel table, hidden partially from view, he carefully pulled his feet out of his shoes to relieve the pressure, flexing them while keeping his attention on the proceedings. He didn’t like doing it, but he couldn’t resist it either.

All along, he timed everything carefully. When he needed to pee—which was too often—he waited for moments when the attention fell on witnesses or documents, sneaking out of the courtroom without drawing much attention. Still, the frequency increased. Each trip felt like a balance between necessity and discretion. When he returned, he adjusted his jacket, straightened his posture, and stepped back into place as if nothing had happened.

Opposing counsel began to notice something was off. There was a slight hesitation in Chris’s movements, but they attributed it to stress and exhaustion. None of them came close to the truth, as Chris remained sharp and precise, but by the end of the day, his movements had lost control. When he sat down, it was slower. When he stood, there was a moment—a fraction of a second—that made him struggle and groan softly.

That night, the twins were particularly restless—moving, rolling, and kicking all night long, so Chris didn’t have enough rest. He spent hours turning from one side to the other, adjusting pillows, and getting up repeatedly, and by morning, he felt like every part of his body weighed a ton. Walking into the courthouse, he carried that fatigue with him, even if he tried not to show it. So when he walked into the courthouse on Wednesday, he was already exhausted.

Climbing the stairs left him breathless, something he masked by slowing his pace and focusing on his posture. Once seated, he adjusted until he found a position that didn’t worsen the pressure in his lower back. But comfort didn’t last, as sitting too long made his hips stiff, and standing made his back and pelvis ache. Throughout the day, he was constantly adjusting, stretching his legs under the table, and rolling his shoulders back when nobody was looking.

His junior counsel noticed before anyone else, stepping in more often, handling minor procedural matters without needing to be asked, and giving Chris a few extra seconds to sit, breathe, and gather himself. At first, Chris resisted, instinctively wanting to maintain control, but it was useless. He accepted the help gradually, offering a brief nod or a “thank you” when the moment allowed it. It was a small defeat, but he couldn’t refuse the help he needed.

By Thursday, the accumulated strain was impossible to conceal. The fatigue, the swelling, and the lack of proper sleep settled in his body way too hard. Standing for extended arguments tested his endurance. At first, he maintained his usual posture, but as the hours passed, he ended up leaning more heavily on the lectern.

Chris’s junior counsel stepped in even more noticeably, anticipating his needs before he voiced them, making him feel a mix of gratitude and frustration. He hated needing the assistance, that he couldn’t push through it how he normally would, but at the same time, the support allowed him to keep going when his body was clearly asking him to stop.

Several times throughout the day, he paused briefly during arguments. To everyone else, it looked like a moment of emphasis, but he was waiting for a discomfort to pass—a tightening on his abdomen, a kick, or a stretch against the walls of his womb. His hand would grip the edge of the lectern, steadying himself before continuing.

By Friday, everybody knew something was wrong, even if nobody understood what. Chris still performed brilliantly, making closing arguments and fulfilling all necessary tasks. But physically, the strain showed through every movement.

The judge, opposing counsel, and the court staff noticed. But to them, Chris was only a man pushing through physical strain while refusing to slow down. He felt drained as he gathered his files and stepped away from the courtroom, but at least he had survived. The tension that had held him upright all week finally eased. His posture softened now that he didn’t have to maintain the same level of control.

Chris’s managing partner approached him not long after, with a kind smile on his face. “Go home. Get some rest. We’ll handle everything from here,” he said. “You still have a lot to handle over the next few weeks, though,” he added, looking down at Chris’s belly.

Chris chuckled and nodded, too exhausted to argue. For the first time in months, there was no obligation waiting for him. As he walked out of the courthouse, he couldn’t help but press a hand to his lower back, instinctively taking a heavy pregnancy, not minding the stares anymore.

Meanwhile, Ryan’s transition into leave hadn’t been smooth. He struggled with paperwork that wasn’t designed to handle his condition. His boss had called him into the office several times to print, reprint, cross out, and rewrite forms.

“Okay,” his boss said at one point, staring at the screen. “So, the system has maternity leave, paternity leave—not long enough for you, though, and medical leave, but nothing that says ‘construction foreman pregnant with six babies.’”

Ryan sighed deeply, rubbing his belly as one of the babies stretched against one side. “Just pick one,” he said, frustrated and exhausted. “I don’t care what you call it.”

“I care,” the boss replied, still typing. “Because if I click the wrong thing, it sends you to the wrong department, and then we’re both stuck explaining what’s really going on.”

Ryan groaned, shifting in his chair as his belly pressed too hard over his crotch. “I’m already explaining it,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Just tell them I’m dying or that I exploded. Almost feels like it,” he added, chuckling.

It had taken days of back-and-forth, phone calls, confused HR representatives, and many awkward explanations before everything was approved. By the time it was done, Ryan felt more drained from the paperwork than from some of his workdays on site.

On his last day, he showed up, moved slower than ever, and went through what felt like a normal routine. But as the day went on, reality settled in. He wasn’t coming back for a while. Standing there, surrounded by the noise of the site, the smell of materials, and the rough voices of the crew, Ryan couldn’t help but get nostalgic about it. Part of him still couldn’t believe what was happening, but as he looked down at his belly, he could only sigh in defeat.

When it was time to leave, Ryan’s boss walked him out, looking at Ryan’s massive frame as he moved toward his truck. “Take it easy,” he said. “Seriously. Don’t try to prove anything.”

“Too late for that.” Ryan snorted. “I’m having six babies. What else could I do?”

As he climbed into the truck, he felt the nostalgia again, but at the same time he couldn’t help but enjoy the relief because he didn’t have to show up at work for a while. However, as he looked at his belly again, something else flooded his mind. Fear. He couldn’t deny anymore how the pregnancy had taken over every aspect of his life, and it made the unavoidable future feel even more frightening. He had to give birth to six big babies in a few weeks.

Both men officially started their leave on April 25—the same day they reached 32 weeks pregnant. Everything felt different, and each morning led them into new routines they embraced quickly as their bodies kept growing.

The first few days at home were nothing like Ryan had imagined. He had thought there would be rest and that he could relax. Instead, the absence of distraction made everything more intense. Sitting on the couch, he could feel how his belly shook with kicks, how it rested on his thighs, and how the skin stretched tight across it.

“Ugh—” he groaned one morning, pushing himself up and wincing slightly. “I’m huge.”

Tammy didn’t even look surprised as she passed by. “You’re carrying six babies,” she said casually. “What did you expect?”

Ryan chuckled, rubbing his belly as the babies turned and rolled inside. “I didn’t expect any of this,” he admitted. “One baby would’ve been enough.”

Even then, he tried to stay active at first.

One afternoon, he decided to carry a basket of laundry upstairs, determined to prove—to himself more than anyone—that he could still handle basic things. By the time he reached the top, he was breathing heavily, and his back ached from the effort.

Ryan set the basket down, bringing both hands to the small of his back for balance. “Okay, okay, that was a mistake,” he said, catching his breath.

Tammy appeared at the doorway. “What are you doing?”

“Laundry,” he said, like it was obvious.

She raised an eyebrow, looking at him—sweaty, flushed, almost ready to collapse or explode. “No,” she said, picking up the basket herself. “You’re not doing that anymore.”

“I can—” Ryan tried to argue.

“No,” she repeated, firmer this time. “You can sit. That’s what you can do.”

Ryan sighed, slowly lowering himself onto the edge of the bed, adjusting his position carefully as his belly settled in his lap. “Okay. You win,” he said to Tammy and to his belly.

After that, he spent most of his time eating. It didn’t matter how much food he consumed—his body always demanded more. He found himself in the kitchen multiple times a day, leaning against the counter for support while he put together whatever he could find.

“Didn’t you just eat?” Tammy asked, watching him open the fridge again.

Ryan didn’t even look back. “Yeah. That was twenty minutes ago.”

“You had three sandwiches, Ryan,” she added, trying not to laugh.

“Not enough,” he said, grabbing more food and starting to eat.

“Don’t complain when you can’t find pants,” Tammy playfully said, getting closer and slapping Ryan’s fattened ass. “Honestly, I’m loving how big you’re getting.”

Ryan blushed and almost wanted to respond, but only accepted the compliment and kept eating like there was no tomorrow.

Meanwhile, Chris adjusted differently. He wasn’t as physically overwhelmed as Ryan, but the weight of the past weeks had slowed him down a lot. Without the pressure of work, he could relax, or at least try to. He moved around the house, trying to keep some sense of routine, but it was obvious that his body had its limits and rising needs.

He literally surrendered to cravings, reaching for snacks without overthinking it, sitting more often, and resting when he needed to instead of pushing through discomfort. The hormones made him more attached to Rory, something that Renee loved—everything was strangely tender the bigger the pregnancy got. Some afternoons, Chris would sit with a hand resting on his belly, feeling the twins moving, wondering how two not-so-tiny humans were growing inside him.

On Saturday, May 2, a week after their leave started, it was Rory’s first birthday, and for once, the focus wasn’t entirely on the pregnancies—even though no one could forget about them for more than a few seconds at a time. Renee had spent the entire morning preparing the house while Chris tried to help in small ways that didn’t involve standing for too long or bending more than his body allowed.

He mostly took care of the baby all day long. At 237 pounds, his belly didn’t have the same overwhelming size as Ryan’s, but it still was big and heavy by regular standards. Above it, his chest had rounded, pulling his t-shirt so tightly that his nipples were visible through the fabric. His lower body was thicker as well, straining his pants with every slight movement. He was standing near the door with the baby in his arms when the doorbell rang. A smile appeared on his lips as he saw Ryan’s body filling the doorway.

At over 322 pounds, Ryan’s belly stretched the front of his t-shirt so tightly that every roll from the babies was visible through the fabric, and the hem barely reached down to his belly button. His hips and ass strained his shorts so much that they made the seams look like they were working overtime to hold everything together. He stood there with one hand pressed into the small of his back and the other resting at the top of his middle, breathing heavier than normal even from the short walk to the door.

“Hey,” Ryan said, smiling and trying to control his breathing. “Happy birthday, little man,” he said, reaching up to caress Rory’s face.

“Come in,” Chris said, stepping back carefully to give Ryan enough space to pass. “Before you fall over, only by standing here.”

Ryan laughed and walked inside, groaning softly with every step he took without even noticing. Tammy followed behind him with the boys. Josh was already looking around at the decorations while Jeremy pointed at the balloons with excitement.

“Whoa, you went all out,” Tammy said, smiling at Renee.

“It’s his first birthday,” Renee replied, brushing it off casually. “But it’s only gonna be us. We didn’t want more neighbors coming in and staring too much,” she added, gesturing at Ryan and Chris, who were talking casually a few feet away.

Tammy laughed, nodding. “I get it. I swear I felt people staring at us while we crossed the streets,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And I can’t really blame them. I mean—” she added, raising her eyebrows while looking at Ryan. “There’s a lot to stare at.”

The ladies laughed, once again taking the humor in the situation their husbands had gotten into. The first part of the party felt normal. There was talking, laughter, and the kids running around. But underneath it all, the pregnancies shaped every moment.

Ryan couldn’t stay standing for long. Within minutes, he had to lower himself onto the couch to give his hips, back, and legs a break.

“You good?” Tammy asked, watching him closely.

“Yeah,” Ryan said, exhaling. “I’m just too heavy. And they’ve been moving all morning.” As if on cue, his belly pushed in one direction, so hard that it made him wince. “There it is,” he said, groaning softly. “I swear it never stops.”

Chris chuckled, sitting across from him and rubbing his belly with one hand, still holding Rory with the other. “I can relate to that,” he said. “I barely slept last night.”

“Same,” Ryan replied. “And it’s all your fault.”

Both men laughed, but, for a brief moment after that sentence, their eyes met and held for a little too long. It was evident that both were thinking the same thing—the camping trip.

The kids pulled the attention back quickly. Josh and Jeremy were playing with the decorations, and Rory’s attention moved between them and the bright colors around him. Then, one of the balloons burst suddenly, and the sound made everybody jump. Rory blinked at the noise for a second, but then his face crumpled, and within seconds, he started crying loudly.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Chris said quickly, holding him closer. But then, he felt something weird spreading on his chest as Rory slowly calmed down.

Chris froze, looking at the baby but feeling a strange sensation taking over his whole body, as if the cry had triggered something deep inside him. His breathing suddenly shortened, even as he tried to remain calm while rocking Rory.

Then, he blinked, looking down. “Oh—” he started as his stomach dropped. His shirt was darkening right across the front, where two spreading patches soaked through the fabric.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Chris whispered, stunned, reaching up with his free hand to press against what seemed to be his lactating nipples.

“Is that—milk?” Ryan started, trying to contain his laughter. “Already?”

Renee stood closer, and for a second she just stared. Then, she covered her mouth as a laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it. “Oh my—” she said. “Chris.”

Chris flushed, trying to make the leaking stop. “This cannot be happening right now.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Tammy said calmly, though she was clearly struggling to contain her laughter. “I guess your body’s getting ready,” she added playfully. “I’ve been telling Ryan that we’ll need industrial-grade pumps when his milk comes in.”

“Oh, come on,” Ryan said, groaning and looking down at his heavy tits. “Why do we always have to go back to that topic? I’m not the one shooting milk like a fountain in the middle of a birthday party,” he added, grinning.

Chris rolled his eyes and didn’t reply. Rory’s crying had already settled, so Renee picked him up, and Chris could stand up to look for a clean t-shirt.

“Hey, I was just kidding,” Ryan said, slowly standing up to follow Chris, as if that would support him during that fun episode. “To be fair, I’d probably flood your house with these if I were the one leaking right now,” he added, playfully cupping his tits as both men went upstairs.

“You better don’t,” Chris replied. “I’ve got enough issues to solve right now.”

Once they entered the master bedroom, Chris removed the damp T-shirt and tossed it aside. He looked down at himself for a second, seeing how thin trails of milk still ran down his torso. The leaking hadn’t stopped, so putting on a clean t-shirt wasn’t a solution.

“That is insane,” Ryan said, looking at Chris’s bare torso with open lust and admiration.

“It is,” Chris replied, sighing. “It’s cool, but I’m a man; I shouldn’t be going through this.”

“No,” Ryan replied without thinking. “I meant you. You look so good.”

Chris looked up, realizing that the other wasn’t only captivated by the lactating but also by the sight of his pregnant body. Ryan got closer without thinking, pressing their bellies together. His hand reached up and rested on Chris’s side, softly pressing his fingers over the taut skin and making the younger man shiver.

“We shouldn’t,” Chris said, but his tone wasn’t convincing.

Ryan blinked but moved closer. “Yeah,” he whispered. “We really shouldn’t.”

Neither of them moved away.

Ryan’s hand moved higher, settling over Chris’s chest. This time he didn’t only brush it—he squeezed firmly. Chris gasped at the contact, and his cock stirred in his pants. Before he could do anything else, he felt the milk coming more steadily against Ryan’s hand.

“Oh—please,” Chris said, tipping his head back as the sensation intensified.

Ryan smirked. “I guess that makes it worse,” he said, though he didn’t stop.

Both leaned in at the same time, curling around their bellies until their lips touched. The kiss deepened, turning passionate and almost desperate. Ryan’s hand stayed on Chris’s chest, squeezing again without thinking, and Chris moaned into the kiss. The sensation only made everything worse and more intense, but neither even considered stopping.

“I’ve missed your monster cock, counselor,” Ryan whispered against Chris’s lips.

Chris laughed softly into the kiss. “Then we should find a way to enjoy our leave,” he said, reaching for Ryan’s hips to knead the rounded flesh there. “I’d suggest a camping trip, but I don’t think you’d fit in the tent anymore.”

Ryan broke the kiss with a laugh, louder than he expected. “Okay, that’s—” he shook his head, still smiling and looking down at his belly. “That’s actually fair.” He looked back up at Chris, then down again, and laughed. “Well, this is all your fault,” he said, gesturing between them. “So if you’re inviting me somewhere, at least make it a comfortable place for my back.”

Chris laughed again, moving closer to press their bellies more firmly. They didn’t fall into the passionate kiss again, but they spent a few minutes feeling the babies moving between them as the leaking eventually slowed down.

A while later, Chris smiled, pulling back slightly. “We should probably go back,” he said.

“Yeah.” Ryan nodded, though he didn’t move right away. “But for the record, I’ll be waiting for your ideas for us to enjoy our leave,” he said, slowly turning around to give Chris a full view of his fat ass.

...

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PS: Thanks to my dear friend woodywood101 for helping me with the plot for this story and provide the pics for it. Please, go check out his Patreon content. You'll love it!