[Mini Story] Table for Four (and a Half)

Hi Hi ✨

Sorry about the delay, this is becoming a bad habit from my part, but I promise I will get my shit together. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this short story and the peculiar image that comes with it! A little update on Patreon new features: There's no update. I got access to discounts and 1 time payment posts, but still no word of gifts. However I did got access to a feature that I find really cool and will inform you a little more about next week! Anyway, that's all, alt images for t3 & t4 on your folders!

📦 Grab the full res image from the attachment section of this post. ⬇️

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Table for Four (and a Half)

"Oof!" Olivia grunted, rubbing her swollen belly as she lowered herself onto a park bench. "You're a feisty one today, aren't you?"

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the neatly trimmed grass of Oakwood Park. Olivia closed her eyes, basking in the warmth and the gentle breeze that rustled the leaves overhead. It was her favourite time of day for a walk - well, more of a waddle these days.

"Olivia? Olivia Carter, is that you?"

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of a familiar voice. A voice she hadn't heard in... was it really almost a year now? Her heart skipped a beat as she turned to see Mark standing a few feet away, his jaw slack with disbelief.

"Mark," she breathed, instinctively moving to stand but thinking better of it. "What are you doing here?"

He blinked rapidly, as if trying to reconcile the image before him with his memories. "I, uh... I just moved back to town. Started jogging again to, you know, clear my head after work." His eyes darted from her face to her swollen belly, then to her muscular arms that strained against the fabric of her maternity dress. "You're... wow. You look..."

"Pregnant?" Olivia supplied with a wry smile.

Mark let out a nervous laugh. "Well, yeah, obviously. But also... different. Really different."

Olivia nodded, her hand absently tracing the curve of her bicep. "The virus," she explained simply. "Hit me about six months ago. Quite a wild ride, let me tell you."

Mark took a tentative step closer, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and uncertainty. "May I?" he asked, gesturing to the empty space on the bench beside her.

"Be my guest," Olivia replied, shifting slightly to make room. As Mark sat down, she couldn't help but notice how small he looked next to her. Had he always been this... compact?

An awkward silence stretched between them, filled only by the distant laughter of children on the playground and the occasional bark of a dog.

Finally, Mark cleared his throat. "So... how far along are you?"

"Seven months," Olivia answered, a soft smile playing on her lips as she patted her belly. "Due in August."

Mark nodded, his gaze fixed on her midsection. "And the father...?" he trailed off, leaving the question hanging in the air.

Olivia took a deep breath. This was it. The moment she'd both dreaded and hoped for since that fateful night nearly eight months ago. "It's yours, Mark."

His head snapped up, eyes locking with hers. "Mine? But we... it was just that one night. After the Thompson wedding. You said..."

"I know what I said," Olivia cut in gently. "And I meant it at the time. I didn't think it was possible. All those years of trying, all those disappointments... But I guess life had other plans."

Mark ran a hand through his hair, his expression a whirlwind of emotions. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Olivia sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly. "Honestly? At first, I was in shock. By the time I wrapped my head around it, you had already left for that job in Chicago. And then..." She gestured to her transformed body. "This happened. I didn't know how to reach out, what to say. 'Hey, remember me? I'm pregnant with your baby and oh, by the way, I can probably bench press a car now.'"

A chuckle escaped Mark's lips, breaking some of the tension. "Yeah, I can see how that might be a tough conversation starter." His eyes roamed over her muscular frame again, a mix of fascination and something else - was it apprehension? - in his gaze. "Does it... hurt? The changes, I mean."

Olivia shook her head. "Not anymore. The first couple of weeks were rough. Felt like I had the world's worst growing pains and flu combined. But now?" She flexed her arm, the muscle rippling impressively under her skin. "I feel stronger than I ever have. Well, when this little one isn't using my bladder as a trampoline, that is."

Mark laughed, some of the tension visibly draining from his shoulders. "That's... wow. I'm glad you're okay. Both of you." He paused, seeming to gather his courage before asking, "Have you thought about names yet?"

The question caught Olivia off guard. It was such a normal, expectant-parent thing to ask. For a moment, she could almost pretend that the last year hadn't happened, that they were just a regular couple excitedly planning for their baby's arrival.

"I have a few ideas," she admitted. "But I haven't decided on anything yet. I was thinking maybe... Maybe we could discuss it? If you want to be involved, that is. I know this is a lot to spring on you all at once."

Mark was quiet for a long moment, his gaze distant as he processed everything. Finally, he turned back to Olivia, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'd like that. To be involved, I mean. If you'll have me."

Olivia felt a weight lift from her chest, one she hadn't even realized she'd been carrying. "I'd like that too," she said softly.

As if on cue, the baby gave a particularly enthusiastic kick, causing Olivia to let out a surprised "Oh!"

Mark's eyes widened in concern. "Are you okay?"

Olivia laughed, grabbing his hand and placing it on her belly. "Feel that? Someone's excited to meet their daddy."

The awe on Mark's face as he felt his child move for the first time was something Olivia knew she'd never forget. In that moment, despite all the changes and uncertainties, she felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they could make this work.

"So," Mark said, his hand still resting on her belly, "tell me more about these name ideas of yours."

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the park, Olivia and Mark sat on that bench, talking and laughing like old times. There were still many challenges ahead, many conversations to be had. But for now, in this moment, everything felt right in the world.

"Are you sure about this?" Mark asked, his fingers drumming nervously on the steering wheel as they pulled up to Olivia's parents' house. "Maybe we should wait a bit longer, you know, ease them into the idea of... us."

Olivia rolled her eyes, a fond smile playing on her lips. "Mark, I'm eight months pregnant. I don't think we have the luxury of time here." She reached over, her hand easily engulfing his. "It'll be fine. They're just a bit... protective."

As if on cue, the front door swung open, revealing Olivia's mother, Sandra. At 7'4", she cut an imposing figure, her muscular frame filling the doorway.

"There's my girl!" Sandra boomed, rushing forward to envelop Olivia in a hug that lifted her clear off the ground, despite her pregnant state.

Mark watched, slack-jawed, as mother and daughter embraced. He'd known Olivia's mum had been affected by the virus too, but seeing it in person was something else entirely.

Sandra set Olivia down gently, then turned her gaze to Mark. The warmth in her eyes cooled considerably. "Mark," she said, her tone clipped.

"Mrs. Carter," Mark replied, trying to keep his voice steady. "It's good to see you again."

Sandra's lips thinned into a tight smile. "Is it now? Funny, I thought you'd forgotten all about us when you ran off to Chicago."

"Mum," Olivia warned, but Sandra was already ushering them inside.

In the living room, Olivia's father, George, rose from his armchair. Though dwarfed by his wife and daughter, he still stood a respectable 6'2". His expression as he regarded Mark was no warmer than Sandra's.

"Welcome back, Mark," George said, shaking his hand with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. "I hope you're planning to stick around this time."

Mark winced, both from the strength of George's grip and the barb in his words. "Yes, sir. I'm here for good now. For Olivia and the baby."

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room, broken only by Sandra's loud sigh. "Well, dinner's nearly ready. Olivia, why don't you help me in the kitchen? Mark can set the table."

As the women left, Mark found himself alone with George. The older man's gaze bore into him, making Mark feel about two feet tall.

"So," George began, his voice low, "you think you can just waltz back into my daughter's life after everything?"

Mark swallowed hard. "Sir, I know I made mistakes. But I'm here now, and I want to make things right."

George snorted. "Make things right? Do you have any idea what Olivia went through? The morning sickness, the virus transformation, all while thinking she was alone?"

"I didn't know," Mark protested weakly. "If I had..."

"If you had, what?" George cut in. "You'd have come running back? Forgive me if I find that hard to believe."

Before Mark could respond, a crash from the kitchen had both men rushing to investigate.

They found Sandra standing over a shattered casserole dish, her face a mix of frustration and embarrassment. "Damn these new hands," she muttered. "Still can't get used to my own strength."

Olivia was already moving to clean up, but Mark stepped forward. "Let me," he offered, grabbing a nearby broom.

As he swept, he could feel Sandra's eyes on him. When he looked up, he caught a flicker of... was that approval?

The moment was short-lived as Sandra's expression hardened once more. "Well, don't just stand there," she barked. "Finish setting the table. We'll have to make do with what's left."

Dinner was a tense affair. Mark felt like he was navigating a minefield with every word. Sandra's questions were pointed, each one feeling like a jab at his character and intentions.

"So, Mark," Sandra said, spearing a potato with perhaps more force than necessary, "what are your plans now? Surely you're not thinking of running off again once the baby arrives?"

Mark set down his fork, meeting Sandra's gaze. "Mrs. Carter, I know you have every reason to doubt me. But I love Olivia, and I love our baby. I'm not going anywhere."

Sandra's eyebrows shot up. "Love? That's a strong word for someone who-"

"Mum, enough!" Olivia interjected, her voice sharp. "I know you're trying to protect me, but I'm not a child. Mark and I are working things out. We're in this together now."

The room fell silent. Even George looked taken aback by Olivia's outburst.

Finally, Sandra spoke, her voice softer than before. "I just don't want to see you hurt again, sweetheart."

Olivia reached across the table, taking her mother's hand. Even with her new size, Sandra's hand dwarfed hers. "I know, Mum. But you have to trust me. Trust us."

Sandra's gaze shifted between Olivia and Mark, conflict clear in her eyes. Then, to everyone's surprise, she let out a deep chuckle. "Well, I suppose if you can forgive him, the least I can do is give him a chance." She fixed Mark with a stern look. "But make no mistake, young man. If you hurt my daughter or that baby, there won't be a place on this earth where you can hide from me."

Mark gulped, nodding vigorously. "Yes, ma'am. Understood."

George cleared his throat. "Well, now that's settled, who's for dessert?"

As Sandra went to fetch the pie, Mark felt Olivia's hand squeeze his under the table. He looked at her, seeing the love and support in her eyes, and knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they'd face them together.

The rest of the evening passed more smoothly, with tentative jokes and even a few shared laughs. As they said their goodbyes, Sandra pulled Mark into a bone-crushing hug. "Welcome to the family," she whispered, "God help you."

Driving home, Olivia turned to Mark with a grin. "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Mark laughed, shaking his head. "Remind me never to get on your mum's bad side again."

As they drove into the night, both felt a sense of hope for the future - a future they would build together, come what may.