Up & Down - Part 8

The twins had changed our lives, but something remained steady: Spencer’s unstoppable growth. By the time he reached 36 weeks pregnant on April 29, he was nothing short of colossal. His 6’7” body weighed a bit over 530 pounds, and even though his belly was the central part of the show, his entire frame was impossibly massive.

His muscles had always been huge, but his whole body was now buried under thick layers of bulk and fat, giving him an imposing and soft look that left me stunned every time I walked through the door. Nothing fit him anymore, so he was beautifully naked every time I looked at him.

I noticed how the constantly increasing mass of Spencer’s whole body affected his movements—like massive bodybuilders who grew so huge, they lost some mobility, even though no bodybuilder, no matter how seasoned or massive, could even come close to the scale he had reached. Spencer moved with a heavy grace now, measuring every step as his hips swayed to balance the monumental weight of his belly. Sitting down, standing up, and even something as simple as turning around took extra time and care. But he carried it all with a breathtaking dignity that made me fall even harder for him.

I loved it when I arrived at our apartment every evening, and the first thing I saw was Spencer sprawled across the couch with his enormous belly jutting into the air like a giant yoga ball—one of those made for professional athletes, but even that seemed a modest comparison. His tits were enormous with muscle and fat, but with an almost comical amount of milk that even the twins, constantly nursing from him, couldn’t seem to deplete.

Spencer shifted when he saw me, groaning as he tried to adjust his weight. His bare tits heaved as his nipples leaked faintly despite his best attempts to keep up with the feedings. I grinned and held up the solution I’d found: a milk pump.

“Hey, big guy. I brought reinforcements,” I said with a wink.

Spencer’s eyes widened as his face turned as red as a tomato. “I hope that’s not what I think it is,” he groaned, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Oh, come on! Give it a try,” I said, approaching and kissing his forehead. “If you don’t like it, I’ll donate them to a dairy farm where a cow definitely needs this,” I said, patting his pecs and making him wince.

I carefully set the twins’ bassinets beside the couch because they were peacefully sleeping. Then, I got to work. I sat beside him, carefully fitting the pumps to his painfully swollen nipples. He was reluctant, but as soon as I turned the machine on, Spencer gasped, and his entire body shuddered with the overwhelming sensation of release.

“Oh! Fuck! O-Owen,” he moaned, firmly gripping the couch cushions. “It feels so good,” he said as his hand instinctively reached for his lower belly, and I knew what it meant: his cock was hard, and he was desperate to touch it. But he couldn’t reach it anymore.

I gently caressed his belly and kissed his flushed cheek. “Told you. I know what’s good for my beautiful dairy cow,” I whispered, smoothing my hand up and down the curve of his heaving side.

Milk flowed freely into the pump, and Spencer’s breathing shortened. His entire body shivered as the sensation of release turned into pleasure, making him more desperate to touch his cock. And I couldn’t help myself. I leaned in closer, kissing his shoulders, then trailing teasing pecks down the curve of his swollen tit. His moans deepened, needy and uncontrolled, making me grin.

“You’re sensitive, big guy,” I whispered, slipping a hand beneath the massive dome of his belly. It took some maneuvering, but I found what I was looking for—his cock, rock-hard and pinned tightly against his swollen balls and the underside of his heavy middle. I gently wrapped my hand around him, feeling it throb desperately against my palm.

Spencer whimpered as his hips gave a slight, trembling twitch toward my touch. His thighs quivered, and the milk pump whirred steadily against his chest as he melted beneath my attention. “Owen! I—I—” he said, almost breathless.

“What, Spencer? What do you want from me?” I asked, slowly and firmly stroking his cock. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes!” He breathed out, barely audible, as his head fell back against the couch. His mouth opened with a desperate sound as the overwhelming sensations wracked his gigantic, beautiful body all at once.

“Don’t worry. I’ll do whatever you need me to do, big guy. I’m yours,” I said, stroking again and making him tremble. And all along, his tits kept filling the pumps with milk.

Later that night, after getting the twins fed and down again, we went to our bedroom for our daily ritual: massage time. Getting Spencer to bed was a challenge at this point—his size meant I had to support him carefully as he slowly heaved himself upright while his belly swung ponderously in front of him. We moved together, step by slow step, until he eased down onto the bed. The mattress sank under his weight, and the frame groaned dangerously.

I climbed up beside him. No matter how many times we did that, the sight of him still stole my breath away, making me fall in love again. His belly loomed high and wide, shining under the light from the bedside lamp. I uncapped a fresh bottle of massage oil, pouring a generous amount into my palms before warming it between my hands.

I slowly spread the oil over the taut, overstretched skin as the silky sheen highlighted the massiveness and every faint ripple of movement from the octuplets inside. Spence’s belly button had popped months ago and was now a sensitive, aching little nub that drew the occasional sharp gasp from him whenever I touched it. I paid careful attention to his navel, circling it with my thumbs in slow motions, making him moan low in his throat.

The babies always kicked up a storm during the massages. The pressure of my hands made them twist and roll beneath the stretched skin. I chuckled softly, leaning in to kiss the peak of Spencer’s belly. “Hey, calm down. Your daddy can barely hold you all inside,” I whispered, feeling the cute but strong movements beneath my touch.

Spencer groaned, moving a hand to cradle the lower curve of his belly. His body trembled from the combined sensations of the massage and the babies’ relentless movements. “You have no idea,” he panted, “how good it feels.”

I grinned, shifting my attention lower, kneading at the softened bulk of his hips. His hips were constantly sore from carrying the octuplets, and I knew exactly where to press to make him sigh and moan. I knew the spots that made him lose it. So when his cock hardened again, I only smiled, kissing the soft underside of his belly before helping him turn onto his side.

I turned my focus to his ass—I loved that part. His butt had always been big, firm, and rounded from years of lifting, but now they had expanded with fat atop muscle, making them absolutely monumental. I couldn’t help but tease him a little, giving one plush cheek a playful squeeze, then another, making Spencer arch into my touch with a desperate groan. I knew we were reaching a point of no return for what I had planned. So I helped him get on his back again.

“You’re so full everywhere,” I whispered, sliding my palms over the broad expanse of his hips and down to his massive thighs, kneading firmly.

Spencer whimpered. “Owen…” he panted, barely able to talk, “Please… I need—”

I smirked, loving how desperate he had become for touch. I carefully straddled his thickened hips and settled my weight over his lap, rubbing my big, hard cock against his own. I could feel the heat coming from his belly and cock and the plumpness of his balls against my bubble butt. Then, I carefully and lovingly leaned forward and reached between us, guiding his cock toward my hole before I settled fully onto him.

We moaned as his cock slid inside, stretching me and sending warm shots of pre-cum into my guts. I could feel his cock throbbing violently against my prostate, making me moan and leak pre-cum against his lower belly. He couldn’t stop moaning even though we hadn’t even started, but I knew his whole body was oversensitive.

I leaned forward, pressing my abs and chest against the stretched skin of his lower abdomen, kissing it tenderly, and feeling the babies kick up a storm beneath. Then, I grinned, playfully bouncing my hips over his lap and making Spencer moan helplessly. I loved how his enormous body felt beneath me. I loved to know that my big man was enjoying this moment. And I loved to think he still had a few more weeks to get bigger.

“I need to cum! So bad!” He cried out a couple of minutes later while I rode his cock like riding a racehorse—an enormous racehorse.

“Go on, big guy,” I said between moans as I felt a wave of cum flooding my guts to the brim. “Oh! Yes! Yes! Fill me up! Get my belly as big as yours,” I said, aware that Spencer loved the idea of me getting a massive belly, even if it wasn’t with babies. The sensation was overwhelming, making me cum buckets all over his lower belly. It was a perfect moment.

*

Our intimacy was at its peak, but everything else was overwhelming some days. Spencer was home all day with the twins while I worked. As much as he adored them, taking care of two demanding newborns while growing eight more babies inside his body was stretching him beyond what anyone could handle—emotionally and physically.

Every evening when I got home, I found him somewhere between heroic and hilariously desperate. Half the time, he was in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge like a starving beast, stuffing food into his mouth with one hand while bouncing a crying baby in the other hand. One day, when I opened the door, I saw Spencer slumped in his favorite armchair, with both twins nursing from his chest. His body looked stunningly enormous, thick, and flushed. Then, I saw an empty tub of ice cream beside him. He looked at me, and I immediately knew what he wanted.

“You better have brought food,” he groaned, not even waiting for hello.

I laughed, holding up two large bags of takeout. “Of course. How’s my big guy doing?”

Spencer rolled his eyes, slightly shifting his position. “Bigger. Hungrier. Hornier—” He cut himself off, cheeks going pink.

I chuckled, setting the food down and kissing his lips. “Hormones are fun, huh?”

“You have no idea,” he said as the babies released his nipples from their mouths, drowsily closing their eyes with full tummies.

We settled onto the couch together as the twins slept peacefully atop Spencer’s massive chest. They were a month old already and bigger than the average kids, but their daddy was so huge that they could use his pecs or belly as mattresses—which they often did.

Then, I kissed his cheeks and fed him handful after handful of fries, bites of burgers, sweet sips of milkshakes, and other fattening foods. He devoured every bite with a ravenous hunger as his cheeks flushed with the need to fill himself, barely pausing to breathe between mouthfuls. I chuckled softly, brushing crumbs from his lips between bites, enchanted by how desperate his body was to sustain the overwhelming number of lives inside him.

All the while, Spencer rubbed distracted circles over the mountainous curve of his belly as the surface trembled from the energetic movements of the octuplets within. I knew he was worried because his brow occasionally furrowed between bites as he stared down at the heaving orb of his body. I leaned in closer, sliding my hand along the tight skin, feeling the babies kick and roll under my palm.

“Hey, what is it? The food wasn’t good enough?” I asked, lovingly touching him.

“It’s not that. But… looking down, I can’t help but wonder… how are we going to do this?” He said after swallowing a mouthful of burgers. “Two babies is already overwhelming. How do we handle eight more?”

I sighed but smiled, moving my hand to rest over his. “It’ll be different. Once these babies are born, you won’t have so much trouble moving. And I promise I’ll be here. We’ll figure it out,” I said softly, kissing his flushed cheek. “We defied logic by creating his babies. We’ll defy logic to raise them together.”

Spencer sighed, leaning his head against me as his belly rumbled softly with hunger even while he continued eating. “Thanks. But I warn you… You’re never fucking me again. This one is the first and last pregnancy,” he said, laughing as I brought another burger to his mouth.

I laughed with him, kissing his cheeks as he chewed. “We’ll see about that.”

*

Everything felt perfect some days, but as the pregnancy advanced and Spencer’s body continued growing in all directions, things began to shift—and not only his size, that continued at an astonishing pace. His belly was somehow larger every morning, straining the limits of what his body could hold, rounding higher and heavier every day. His ass had become massive and thick, his thighs constantly brushing together as he walked, and his tits were so heavy and full of milk that they leaked even without stimulation. His swollen balls pressed awkwardly beneath the enormous weight of his middle, and his cock remained in a constant state of half-hardness. Everything was overwhelming.

At first, it was manageable. Spencer would grunt and demand more food, call out for a belly massage, or whimper for help standing up. I was happy to oblige him, devoted to making him as comfortable as possible. But then the mood swings hit harder than ever, leaving me clueless about what to do. No matter what I did, I couldn’t keep him happy.

One evening, after a long day of caring for the twins, I found Spencer sprawled on the couch, one arm thrown over his eyes while the other cradled his belly. I walked in holding two bags of takeout as always, and before I could even greet him, Spencer groaned loudly.

“You’re the worst,” he shouted as tears ran down his cheeks.

I blinked. “What? I brought food. Your favorite.”

“I don’t care. It’s your fault,” Spencer snapped, lifting his head to glare at me with flushed cheeks. “I’m—I’m a beached whale! I’m—” He waved his free hand at himself, gesturing to the enormity of his form. “I’m stuck like this! With enormous tits leaking all over everything, a gigantic belly that kicks me from the inside, a titanic fat ass that doesn’t fit in anything, balls so swollen it hurts to walk, and a cock that’s—that’s—always freaking hard.” His face burned red as he trailed off, panting heavily.

I set the food down carefully, walking over to him, trying to hide my smile. I knew this was the hormones affecting his emotions. “Babe, you are—”

“Don’t ‘babe’ me!” He barked, trying to fold his arms over his immense tits. “You’re never touching me again. You hear me? Never again!”

I knelt in front of him, gently caressing his belly. “Spencer, it’s the hormones. It’s okay.”

“Hormones, my ass,” he grumbled, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

The next few days were a rollercoaster. Spencer would demand backrubs and milk-pumping, then five minutes later, accuse me of treating him like an object. I helped him stand, helped him shower, and helped him sit down because he was too big to manage alone. And even then, I was somehow the villain in the movie. He insisted that the pregnancy was my fault because the punishment I forced him to accept after he cheated on me was the reason why he ended up so heavily pregnant.

Sometimes, I’d catch him staring down at his belly, rubbing it absentmindedly with a frown, lost in thought. He wanted me far away one minute, but at night he would beg me for a fuck. Some nights he faked crying to convince me to fuck him hard and long, and when we were done, he accused me of not caring about his condition and that I probably wanted to get him even bigger, even fuller, and helpless with kids.

I almost wanted to admit that I did. My cock got hard when I imagined Spencer having even more of my babies. I had playful dreams where Spencer’s body was as big as a house, and he would push dozens of babies in quick succession, asking me to fill him up again. I fantasized about him getting enormously pregnant, but it was my secret; I didn’t want anything that he was against. I loved him way too much to consider making him go through all that without his permission. And I knew he was just scared.

One night, after a particularly emotional outburst, I sat beside him with the twins nestled in my arms. I watched him for a long moment, taking in how his massive body took all the space between his spread thighs while the babies stretched and turned. How his pecs leaked slowly, and his expression was lost. I couldn’t help but smile; he looked beautiful to me.

“You’re scared,” I said quietly. “And I get it. I’m scared. But we’re here for you. Your babies and your husband aren’t going anywhere.”

He jerked his head up, defensive—but both knew it was true. I shifted, carefully placing the twins beside him. They wriggled a little, waving their tiny hands in the air. Harry reached out clumsily and batted at Spencer’s belly, patting it with an innocent little touch. Spencer froze, staring at the tiny hand against his taut, heaving abdomen. Then Henry reached out too, both babies instinctively seeking their daddy’s warm touch.

Spencer’s lips wobbled. His hands trembled as he gathered the twins close, cradling them against his chest as tears slipped freely down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Owen,” he whispered, broken and beautiful. “I’m scared. I don’t know if we’ll be able to handle so many babies, but… I can’t wait to meet them.”

I wrapped my arms around him, kissing his shoulders and tit. “Everything will be alright. It’ll be any day now. Any day. And when it happens, I’ll be right here with you, Spencer,” I said, and I saw his smile. I loved that smile. “Through hills and valleys, ups and downs, I’ll always be here for you and our many babies.”

...

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