Day #5 - ADVENT CALENDAR 2025

Disclaimer: All characters in this work are 18 years of age or older. This content is intended for mature audiences only. By proceeding, you acknowledge that you are legally permitted to view explicit material in your jurisdiction and understand that this work contains adult themes.

WORD COUNT: 5k words

SUMMARY: A bootyliscious buff muscular bodybuilder who usually tops decides to bottom once for his twink FWB after losing a dare. Nine months later, his entire body has become more voluptuous, and his ass is even more massive and his belly is globular and wide. He's still in complete denial of his pregnancy, thinking kicking is gas, and that he's in a bulk. He ends up giving birth to a 14lb baby after placing 2nd in a competition. (The winner request of the last Request Pool, requested by boy problems)

TAGS: mpreg, cismpreg, public birth (character gives birth on stage), birthing in underwear, labor denial, pregnancy denial, mentions of m/m sex, anal birth 

0 WEEKS

There’s that one quote that says when faced with two choices, simply toss a coin. You’ll know exactly what you want when the coin is in the air. Fifty-fifty chance that luck would not be on his side, and Rex Calder had fallen face-first into bad luck. Actually, he’d landed on his ass on it.

While the coin was in the air, Rex knew exactly what he didn't want. Being fucked from behind was what he did not want. But Rex was a man of his word.

Johnny's fingers tightened around his hips. Rex felt the involuntary reaction of his body tensing, his muscles bracing for something when Johnny pulled him back, his hands roaming over his middle, fingertips tracing the lines of his sculpted abdomen. 

Rex's fingers curled on the mattress beneath him, gripping at the sheets, and tilted his head to glance at Johnny over his shoulder. Johnny was there, one of his hands still heavy on Rex's hips, the other reaching inside the drawer of the nightstand, looking for lube.

The next thing he felt was the cold gel hitting his skin as Johnny’s fingers slid between his ass cheeks, spreading the lube around his hole.

Rex thought if anyone could see them right now, they would laugh at the contrast. Johnny's small, lean frame hovering over Rex's muscular body. Damn, Johnny's head was probably the size of one of his biceps. Almost absurd that a man so small, so soft, was about to pound into him with a huge cock.

“Relax,” Johnny murmured behind him.

He forced a breath out. Let his head hit the pillow when he lowered his body, letting Johnny's hands shove down on his back, leading his chest to press against the mattress and his hips to rise up. Johnny’s leg slid between his, his knee hitting the inside of his thigh when he gently forced them apart.

Rex was used to being in control. He trained when he wanted, he ate what he wanted, and he fucked who he wanted. But he was also a man of his word, so when Johnny dared him to let him fuck Rex, it wasn’t an easy road to even get Rex to consider it. Not that there was anything wrong with being a bottom, but that was not his cup of tea. 

But Johnny was a very, very convincing man. It wasn’t just that Johnny was irresistible; it was the damn dare. So they choose the most civilized way to end this: flip a coin. 

Rex chose heads.

And he was a man of his word.

Rex licked his lips when he felt the tip of Johnny’s dick pressing against his hole. He took a deep breath, forced himself to relax. Bit the inside of his cheek when he felt Johnny's dick starting to slide inside of him, slowly stretching him open.

On Johnny’s night table, next to the coin that rested heads up, there was an unused condom.

10 WEEKS 

Rex swallowed, looking down at his couch as the man in front of him moved his pen closer to his body, pressing it against his abdomen before he used the pen to lift Rex's shirt, lifting the sweaty fabric. Rex felt James' warm breath against his belly when the man leaned in closer, eyes squinting as he looked up at him.

His coach's eyes trailed down his middle to focus back on his stomach, before James tilted his to stare at Rex through the mirror.

“See that?” James raised an eyebrow.

The tip of his pen pressed against Rex’s stomach.

Rex titled to face his own reflection. Yes, he saw that. The way his middle was slowly settling into something soft, plump, where they were supposed to be seeing the results of his last cut.

Maybe he went a bit overboard with his last bulk, leaning towards the dirty side of things and giving up once too many times to his stupid cravings. That was the only reason he could find to explain why the numbers on the scale didn't come down as they were supposed to. To explain why in the last months, no matter how hard he trained and how careful he was with his diet, he couldn’t get rid of the stubborn fat of his middle that was apparently becoming a part of him.

“We need to get rid of this,” James said, wrapping the measurement tape around Rex’s abdomen. “You know we can’t be fucking around now, dude. The competition’s getting closer and closer, man.”

Rex nodded, shivering at the cold plastic of the tape against his hot skin, still warm from his recent workout. James pulled away and scribbled something down on his notepad, then turned around. 

“You need to get those numbers down. I wanna see washboard abs right there next time I see you.”

Rex nodded. His eyes were still lingering on his image in the mirror. He lifted his shirt and flexed, seeing his abs barely appear, the muscle shifting under the skin as he tilted, angled his body, changed positions. One of his hands moved to his hips to pinch the skin between his fingers. What once had been lean and tight, now it was soft, the skin no longer sticking to the muscle. 

He could not be getting damn love handles. It was time to cut back on the carbs.

20 WEEKS

The only thing that could be heard over the loud music blasting in Rex's earbuds —music loud enough that the people on the nearby machines could hear it— was the sound of his winded breathing, grunting as he pushed... pushed himself past the pain starting to burn in his arms as he lowered the weight slowly.

One more rep. Always just one more rep. 

His reflection in the mirror stared back at him, almost mesmerized by the way the muscles of his arms shifted and flexed with every one of his movements. Rex didn't seem to mind, or rather, he seemed totally oblivious to the way his shirt —compression, black, tight on his body— hugged his swollen middle. How the fabric stretched over the rounded curve of his stomach, how it fought to stay in place and not ride up with all his movements; when he moved from machine to machine, when he bent over to pick up his protein shake, when he moved to change the weight of the dumbbells. 

The voice of one of the guys in the gym snapped him out of his little trance.

“How many sets do you have left?”

 “Huh?”

Rex took off one of his earbuds, eyes wandering over the man in front of him. Mark. If Rex recalled correctly, his name was Mark. Or Shawn. Or something along those lines. He had seen him a few times around the gym filming videos for his Instagram, another one of these wannabes, rundown Arnold Schwarzenegger. A bit too hot for his own good, Rex noticed. Cute face, looked like he didn't neglect his leg days.

“How many sets do you have left?” Mark repeated.

“Just one.”

The guy nodded. His eyes only lasted one more second on Rex's face before they dropped lower, almost unvoluntarily.

Well, he had been paying special attention to working out on his pecs lately.

The guy in front of him cleared his throat, tilted his head. His eyes flickered again from Rex's protruding stomach to his face, then back to his middle. Then back to his face.

Yeah, Rex got it: it was hard to know exactly where to look when a man like him was sitting right there, all sweaty and pumped. It was also probably hard to focus, he thought when the guy opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if the words had turned too shy in pretty lips.

Finally, the guy spoke. 

“Uh, congratulations, man,” he said, a small laugh escaped his mouth. “It’s good to see you're still keeping yourself in shape in your… state.”

 Rex blinked. Well, yeah? What else did he expect?

He reached for his phone to pause the song blasting through his earbuds before turning to face the guy, his full attention now on him.

“My state?” Rex shrugged. “Well, thank you. I mean, obviously. It takes a lot of hard work to get into this state. It's not easy to get into a competition, bro. Let me tell you that.”

Mark's face turned into a scowl of confusion. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it immediately. The word pregnant remained stuck and dangling from the tip of his tongue. His eyes drifted away from Rex's stomach, feeling the heat rise to his face, the sudden feeling he had just said something he shouldn't have, making him look around them for anything that could give him a way out of this conversation.

“Huh, yeah, of course…” Mark cleared his throat. “The competition. Yeah. I thought… Never mind. Take your time, no rush. I'll go do something else.”

Rex frowned, watching the boy go. It wasn't the first time people had been weird around him lately. Not the first time that someone had stopped dead in their tracks when he appeared in their way, their eyes wandering over his body like they couldn't believe what they were seeing.

Yeah, Rex knew he was impressive like that. I mean, he was glad that, apparently, all the work he had put into getting his body in proper shape for the competition was finally paying off. People staring in awe was an appropriate reaction. But this was getting weird. Anyone looking from the outside might think he was just an asshole who didn't want people to look him in the eye or be near him.

Rex leaned forward to pick up the dumbbell next to his feet, putting his playlist back on. Music started blasting in his ears again. His eyes locked on his own reflection as he started his next set.

One more rep. 

31 WEEKS

Rex couldn't help the smirk that crept up his face the moment James walked in.

It was almost like seeing it in slow motion, seeing James' face deform into a scowl of incredulity the moment his eyes landed on Rex's body, his lips parting, eyes widening. For a moment, Rex thought he could see the exact moment where his brain finally caught up with what he was seeing, the exact moment when the gears in his brain started turning before they clicked into place.

Well, if that wasn't the exact reaction Rex was expecting. 

After all the work he had put into his body since the last time he saw James in person, that was the reaction he wanted to see. All the weight lifting, all the measuring and weighing every single bite he put in his mouth, eating ridiculous amounts of protein to be able to look like this.

“What on earth…?” James stuttered. “Rex? What the hell?”

“Yeah, I know,” Rex nodded, “I know. The first place is secured.” 

James swallowed. He couldn't believe what his eyes were seeing. Last time he had seen Rex, he had seen the man he was used to: lean, strong, muscular. In shape. Indeed, a strong candidate for first place in any competition.

But now? Now James had to convince himself he wasn't dreaming —God, he wished he was dreaming right now— eyes wide as he scanned the swollen body of the man standing in front of him. He didn't have to look twice to tell exactly what was wrong, what was out of place in the picture in front of him: Rex Calder was visibly pregnant. 

There was no way to say that was something else. The contrast was almost painful to look at: the huge gut in front of him, skin taut and covered in furious stretch marks. In a way, he was still in shape. His body was still muscular and lean in the areas that mattered; his arms were strong, his legs were terrific. But he was huge, as if he had just gone through some dirty bulk where he just stuffed his face with crap food, and now all the volume of that had gone towards his huge ass and the massive stomach hanging in front of him. 

James took a step closer, eyes unable to pry apart from Rex's gravid middle. The skin was stretched over the round, wide gut, his skin red and irritated where the skin stretched over the growing surface too fast. His belly button had popped, and Rex's stomach hung low in front of him, as if the weight of the massive baby inside of him —had to be a huge baby, just like his dad— was already trying to get his body used to the inevitable way this baby was going to move down and then out. 

And Rex did not seem to even mind it. 

“Are you…?” James stammered.

“Yeah,” Rex laughed. “Listen, I know that I didn't exactly hit the weight goal, but I'm sure that this is enough.”

“Dude, you look pregnant!”

Rex raised an eyebrow, head snapping to give him a look before he let out a scoff. The bodybuilder shook his head before he tilted his massive, swollen body, a slow and almost clumsy movement now. Rex lifted his arm and flexed his muscles.

“You don't have to be a dick,” Rex sighed, angling his body, staring as the muscles of his body shifted and twisted under the magic lighting of the gym. “I know that I didn't exactly get the washboard abs you wanted, but I mean…”

“Are you serious?” James let out an incredulous laugh. “You…”

“James,” Rex lifted a hand, turning back to face him. “You need to focus now, man. I ain't gonna get rid of this little… belly pooch. We gotta deal with it and focus.”

James blinked. He felt his mouth going dry when he saw, right in front of his very eyes, the skin of Rex’s stomach moving. He couldn't look away from the globular belly in front of him, staring as the skin pushed from the inside, where the clear shape of a small foot pressed from within. 

Holy fuck. 

Rex let out a sigh, apparently unaware of the fact that, right now, there was a living thing moving inside of him, and moved a hand to brush over his middle. 

“Man,” he groaned. “Too much protein. This gas is killing me.”

41 WEEKS

This place was packed to the brim. Enough to make Rex feel slightly claustrophobic. He had been feeling suffocated since the moment he hopped in the van to make it here, that strange feeling pressing down on his chest, he blamed on the anxiety, the knot in his stomach, Rex repeated to himself was just the nerves before the performance.

Looking at him in the rearview mirror, James knew a bit better. But in the past few weeks, Rex Calder had proven he wasn't replying to reason.

"Hurry up, man," Rex sighed. "My back's killing me. I think I overdid it at the gym last night."

He couldn't see the look on James' face because Rex was too focused on the flashing lights of the stage in front of him, eyes scanning the bodies of his competitors in front of him. Not like, if he looked down, he would have been able to see James with the huge gravid stomach hanging in front of him.

But it was enough to feel James kneeling in front of him, rubbing the sponge soaked with self-tanning lotion up and down his legs, working on covering every single part of his muscles.

"Sure, man. It was the gym..." James muttered.

"I don't like your tone lately. You gotta be positive, dude," Rex rolled his eyes.

James finally stood up. His hands moved to Rex's massive biceps, pressing the sponge there.

"Arms up," James ordered.

Rex did as told. The moment he raised his arms, the pain in his lower back started to spread again over his aching muscles. God, he really did fuck up yesterday with whatever exercise he did.

He felt the familiar twisting of his stomach, the muscles tightening as he swallowed. Nerves. That was it. Just the nerves that had been pummeling him since yesterday.

Rex rolled his neck, letting out a breath as he tried to ease the tension in his body. Focus. That's all he had to do now. Focus. He was finally here, and finally, all the hard work he had put in the last few months was paying off, visible to everyone, with the only thing covering his body being one of those skimpy posing trunks.

He surely had to be doing something right, because none of his opponents had gotten even a quarter of the amount of looks Rex had gotten since he put a step inside the venue. He simply turned heads.

James finally took a step back. His eyes wandered over Rex's body, taking in the... well, everything. From the chiseled muscles of his arms, now covered in the unnatural dark orange of the self-tanning lotion, to the huge belly, shining yellowish under the lights of the venue.

He had insisted Rex didn't compete today. But when he couldn't formulate an answer that made sense to Rex, the man, of course, decided he was going to compete anyway.

"You alright?" James let out a breath, shaking his head.

"Ugh..." Rex moaned, his hands moving to rest in his lower back, fingers clinging to the sticky skin. "Yeah, just... fuck. I think I ate something bad. My stomach's feeling really funny."

James’s lips pressed into a thin line as his eyebrows raised.

"Rex, you know you don't..."

"Quit it with that. Man up, dude. You're my coach and we're...hgn...here now."

"You sure you're gonna be able to hold it in until this whole deal ends?"

Rex frowned, giving him a puzzled look, one of his hands moving to rub his stomach.

"You're pissing me off, man. You're not even making sense right now."

James took another deep breath.

"Alright, Rex," he shrugged, patting Rex's arms. "Just relax. Everything will be just fine."

Rex took a quick, shallow breath that didn't quite fill his lungs. His eyes were back on the stage. Rex could feel his mind slowly starting to shift into something harder, tighter, focused. The golden state where all that mattered next was his performance.

This was the moment he had been waiting for. He couldn't fuck up now.

The murmuring in the room fell silent when the voice of one of the presenters coming through the speakers announced that Rex's category was about to start.

James turned to give him one last reassuring look before he stepped out of his way, watching as Rex walked —correction, waddled, to form in line near the stage stairs. Apparently, the man wasn't even aware of the way his body now rocked, the way his hips swayed with each step, his massive ass bouncing, and his belly swinging in front of him.

Indeed, heads turned as he made it to the stairs.

The round of applause broke the silence as the names of the participants began to be announced, the bodybuilders climbing the stairs one by one.

Rex took a step up the stairs. Then another. God, he couldn't be out of breath just by climbing up these ridiculous stairs, could he?

Rex finally found himself at the center of the stage, blinking under the harsh overhead lights, shoulder to shoulder with other competitors. He recognized some familiar faces as his eyes fell on the judges, sitting in front of the stage, and behind them, James' face in the crowd.

His stomach twisted. He felt the familiar churn of the nerves forcing the muscles of his middle to tense, and Rex forced himself to let out a breath and try to ease the tension from his body. This was not the moment. He was going to have plenty of time to flex in a bit.

He couldn't really see past the blinding lights in front of him, besides making out a few faces in the crowd, but he felt like everyone's eyes were on him. Everyone's eyes were roaming over his body, stopping at his abdomen.

The presenter announced the start.

Posing. Flexing. Tilting, angling his body just right to let the light catch him just right. Controlling his breath. Focusing his eyes on a fixed point in the crowd to avoid the dizziness that would take over his brain from time to time, making him feel suffocated.

Rex could feel how some of his mates, the other competitors lined up next to him, couldn't keep their heads from turning to look at him. He could see in the corner of his eyes the way his body simply being there was distracting enough to make some of them lose their focus, even if just for a split second, enough to make their poses falter.

Rex was so focused on not letting any detail escape from his grip, on not letting his attention wander for one second from keeping his form prefect, from not letting the judges see the wrong side. He barely realized how the pain in his back had slowly started to spread everywhere, how now there was a dull ache starting to pierce his hips.

Maybe he had pulled something wrong as he posed. It had to be that.

The judges stated to discard the competitors. One by one, the stage started to empty, the sound of the applause from the crowd drowning out the sound of the others' defeat.

Rex barely realized the slow but steady pressure that had been building between his legs. He blamed it on the strain posing had put on his body.

Rex barely realized when his own posing started to falter, when his own body slowly started to crumble, his muscles trembling, all the work he had put into getting the perfect poses for the judge's eyes starting to dilute as he found himself leaning forward, folding on himself.

His heart jumped in his chest when they announced the third place, and it wasn't him.

He barely realized how his controlled breathing had turned into ragged exhales, an uneven panting when the judges called him and his opponent to the center of the stage again to start posing.   

Rex didn't realize how he waddled towards the center, how, when he set himself to pose, his own body didn't allow him to close his legs together. He didn't realize when the pressure between his legs forced him to arch his back, to spread his legs wide. Not good for the pose, standing like that made his quadriceps look asymmetrical.

He did realize when his body started pushing, lost between the anxiety and the strain of posing. That was the one thing that managed to snap Rex out of the state of mind of razor focus he was in. 

He blinked under the white lights, suddenly aware of the space his body was taking, of the proximity of his opponent next to him, of the critical gaze of the judges writing stuff down on their notepads in front of him. Suddenly, he was aware of the shooting pain spreading through the bones of his pelvis as the pressure between his legs moved lower. 

Well, that was not going according to plan.

His stomach churned. This time, Rex couldn't blame the tightness in the muscles of his middle on the nerves, because the shooting pain that spread through his body was not just nerves.

Rex suddenly was very aware of the way that even the tiny posing trunks he had on felt too tight, too oppressive. And he was suddenly aware of the liquid dripping slowly from between his legs and down his thigh. He forced his head to stay up even when he wanted to let it snap down to see what the fuck was going on, to keep his eyes on the judges as they stood up and started walking towards them.

The presenter started to talk. Something something about sponsors. Thanking the judges, the participants, the public.

Rex didn't realize the beads of sweat running down his forehead, glistening under the lights above his head. He was too focused on trying to keep his body still as the judges talked, on trying not to squirm from pain at the feeling of the pressure between his legs moving down. 

Bad. Very bad. He could feel something moving down inside of him and trying to come out, a huge mass sliding down his ass and forcing his legs apart. 

God, there was so much pressure. The judges called Rex's name. He turned his head to face him, forcing himself to plaster a smile on his face even when all that was flashing in his mind right now was the pulling urge to let his body move, squirm, squat down, and push. 

The sudden wave of adrenaline that washed over his body when he heard they said second place wasn't because he got second place. Yes, that was really great, but the adrenaline pumping in his veins and making Rex's body tremble, forcing him to lean forward and let out a scream, wasn't the happiness from the win. 

What forced Rex Calder to fall to his knees in the middle of the stage was the burning feeling of something huge pushing out of him, spreading his ass open. 

The crowd went quiet. He barely realized when the lights in the venue turned on, when the people started to stand up in rushed panic to get closer to the stage, panicked screams that weren't his starting to fill the room. Someone took out their phone and started filming; some more people followed.

Rex wasn't exactly sure what the hell was happening, but he was sure of one thing: he had to push. His body trembled when he leaned down, focusing all the strength of his body to push, trying to get whatever was inside of him —huge— to come out. 

He barely registered the words baby and pregnant when the burning feeling of something spreading him open, wide and open, took over him, sending pain shooting through his body. He barely realized when James appeared at his side. 

James felt his mouth go dry —again— and his body go limp when he almost fainted at the sight of a head covered in dark hair and blood between Rex's legs. The crowning head of a baby, a round bulge stretching the fabric of his trunks. 

Rex let out a whimper, his body moving to reach behind himself, trembling fingers tugging at the strained fabric to pull it down before he pushed again. The baby's head slid out of him, amniotic fluid dripping down his tinted skin towards the floor of the stage. 

He barely realized that when he pushed the next time, the shoulders slid out of him, letting him a baby dangling between his spread legs. His opponent was pale under the fake orange tan. 

He didn't realize when one of the paramedics who was around the venue slid between his legs to catch the baby. 

The next thing Rex knew was that his eyes were fixated on the bright lights on top of him, his blood reverberating in his ears as a crying baby rested on his naked chest, covered by one of those emergency blankets. Someone was still filming. James was on the phone, gave him a thumbs up when their eyes met.

Rex let out a breath, looking down at the baby in his chest. Looked like him. Kinda. At least 14 lbs, the paramedics had said. He looked up, looking at the horrified faces of the judges, and spoke. 

“I still get second place, right?