Up & Down - Part 6

The weeks following our marriage were a blur of love, laughter, and sweetness. Our bond deepened as we got used to living as husbands. We were already madly in love, but whenever I saw the ring on my finger and then I saw Spencer’s, I couldn’t help but smile and kiss him. He was mine, and I was his; that meant a lot to me. Also, watching him getting bigger by the day only accentuated our feelings. My babies were growing in his belly, giving our marriage a whole new meaning. We weren’t guys having babies together anymore; we were a family.

With Spencer getting bigger by the day, my attention and devotion to him only intensified. By the time he was 24 weeks pregnant, his body was a sight to behold. He weighed 450 pounds, and his frame was a veritable mountain of muscle and softness. His once hard-edged muscles had thickened due to the pregnancy, making him look even bigger than his initial imposing physique. A layer of fat softened Spencer’s muscular pecs, arms, and thighs, giving him the look of a bodybuilder in the offseason, massive but undeniably beautiful. I called him my “chunky Hulk,” and he only chuckled and embraced the nickname. It perfectly suited him.

His whole body was bigger, but his belly got all the attention. Spencer’s belly stretched taut and round, a commanding curve that seemed to defy gravity, its surface smooth and firm but slightly yielding under my gentle touch. I loved to caress his round abdomen while the babies moved or kicked. I loved to observe the shapes of feet and hands pushing against his skin from within. It was surreal and so cute. Those were my babies, our babies, so my favorite activity was to cuddle with him and rub his belly.

Late one night, when we were getting ready for bed, I lay nestled against Spencer, feeling tiny beside his colossal pregnant form. He lay on his back, propped by a fortress of pillows, his enormous belly rising high like a mountain or a monument to our love—or his fertility. His skin gleamed under the soft light due to the lotion I had just massaged over it to help his skin deal with how much it stretched over our growing babies. I rested my hand on the side of Spencer’s belly, feeling the delicate flutters of movement. He smiled as a small kick pressed back against my palm.

“There they go again,” he whispered, glancing at me with a broad smile. “They always start moving when they feel you’re close.”

I grinned, moving my hand in small circles as more kicks appeared over the surface of his abdomen. “What can I say? My babies are like me.”

“What do you mean?” Spencer asked, chuckling.

I leaned to kiss Spencer’s lips, my hands still on his belly. “I love keeping their daddy on his toes. And our babies are just like that,” I teased him, moving my hand over the swell of his belly. “But I know they’ll be just like you—big, strong, and handsome. Perfect like you.”

Spencer grinned, his eyes tearing up as his hormones got him emotional. “Owen Richards, how are you always so romantic?” He attempted to sit up to kiss me, but his huge belly didn’t allow him, so I kissed him again.

“I have the best and biggest muse to be romantic all the time,” I responded as my hands moved to his pecs to squeeze them. “And the best part is that my muse is getting so much bigger.”

Spencer grinned. “If our babies—all ten of them—are anything like you, they’ll be sweet, stubborn, and perfect.” He shifted slightly, wincing as his belly stretched with the movement, and I immediately propped a pillow under his back. “Thanks,” Spencer murmured. “I feel like I’m going to pop.”

I kissed him again, more passionately this time. “Not yet. But maybe soon enough,” I teased. I slid down to kiss the crest of Spencer’s belly, the skin warm and stretched so tight I could almost see the faint outlines of our children moving beneath. “You’re doing so well, Spencer. You’re perfect to carry our kids. Many more.”

Spencer chuckled contentedly. “What can I say? I guess I’m big enough to carry big loads. But can we take it one step at a time? You’ve got me thinking you’ll want to try this again soon,” he reluctantly said, but I recognized something in his eyes. I knew his mouth said no, but deep down, he wanted the same.

I kissed his belly as my hands traveled down to his hips. “Maybe. Just imagine… eight more little ones. Or ten more. Twelve.”

He groaned as I kissed his sensitive skin, and my hands squeezed his ass, which had gotten rounder and fatter over the past few months. “One step at a time, Owen,” he chuckled, though the idea didn’t seem entirely unwelcome. “Let me survive these eight first, and then we’ll see if that huge cock of yours can repeat or surpass the number.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” I said, teasing him as my cock hardened, so I brushed it against his belly. “We could practice right now. We know you can’t get more pregnant than you already are, but… we can still try.”

He grinned and slowly spread his legs. “You’re impossible, Owen Richards. You turned me into a whale, and you’re still thinking of getting me even bigger.”

“But you love me just like this, Spencer Richards. And you seem to like the idea of trying for more kids,” I responded, helping him get in position for a fuck. His hormones had skyrocketed, so he was hornier by the day, and I was more than happy to fulfill his needs. He wanted me to fuck him at least twice a day, and I was more than happy to do it.

The pregnancy hadn’t only increased his libido, but his hunger had skyrocketed. Spencer insisted it was because he was eating for nine, but I disagreed because the eight babies didn’t eat like full-grown adults, and Spencer ate enough food to feed nine full-grown adults. When I returned home from work every day, I brought bags of takeout and groceries for him. Spencer sat on the couch, naked, because even his largest clothes weren’t big enough to handle his growing body. His eyes lit up when he saw me approaching with the food, absentmindedly rubbing his belly.

“I’m starving,” he said, eyes gleaming like a child on Christmas morning.

“I brought enough food to feed a small army,” I replied, laughing and setting everything on the coffee table. “Which is what I think you are now.”

With a playful growl, Spencer shifted to make room, patting the couch beside him. “You did this to me, so you better feed me and the babies,” he commanded, though his grin softened the words into a plea.

I settled beside him, unwrapping burgers, fries, and a mountain of pastries. I picked up a burger, holding it to Spencer’s mouth, and he took a large bite. As Spencer chewed, my free hand drifted down to caress his belly, marveling at its fullness. “I love watching you eat, you know,” I softly said. “This way, I know we’ll have big and strong babies. Just like you.”

Between bites, Spencer chuckled, his hand joining mine on his belly. “I think I’m feeding a football team.” He shifted to rest his head against my shoulder, content and full but always ready for more. “You spoil me way too much.”

I kissed the crown of his head. “I love spoiling you. Watching you grow—knowing our family is growing within you—it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I said and continued feeding my big pregnant husband.

Later that night, after the food was gone and the dishes were cleared, we lay entwined again in bed, basking in the glow of our love.

“Just think, Spencer, soon there will be ten little feet running around, eight from here,”—I said, kissing Spencer’s belly—” and two more when the twins arrive.”

Spencer sighed happily, his fingers brushing over my hand. “I can’t wait to meet them. All of them.” He chuckled, rubbing his massive belly affectionately. “But let’s not add more right away, okay?”

I grinned, kissing his lips, “Okay. But I won’t say no if you change your mind. You look so beautiful while pregnant.”

Spencer laughed and kissed me back. “You’re impossible,” he said, pulling him closer. “Let’s wait for the twins and then for these eight babies, and after that, we can talk about you filling me up again.”

****

I woke up to the familiar warmth of Spencer’s 505-pound body beside me when he was 32 weeks pregnant. My hand rested on the vast curve of his belly, its roundness taut and firm, stretching over two feet in front of him. I could feel the babies inside him shifting lazily, their movements slow and content. Spencer stirred slightly, sighing as I traced soft circles over the stretched skin, his smile sleepy and peaceful.

“They’re active this morning,” I whispered, leaning up to kiss his shoulder.

“They know their dad is here,” Spencer murmured. He shifted again, the bed groaning beneath his sheer size, and one hand joined mine, cradling his belly.

The moment was perfect—serene and intimate—until Spencer’s phone buzzed on the nightstand, vibrating insistently. He frowned, reaching for it awkwardly, his movements slow from the weight of his body. He unlocked the phone and stared at the screen, his expression shifting from curiosity to shock and then to something I couldn’t quite place—joy and disbelief.

“What is it?” I asked, sitting up, concerned.

He turned the phone toward me, his hand slightly trembling. The message was short but life-changing: “I’m in labor at the hospital. Everything’s ready. Come to the hospital to take the babies.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The words hung in the air. Then Spencer’s breath hitched, and the tears came uncontrollably. I felt my throat tighten, and soon, we were both crying, our foreheads pressed together, hands gripping each other like lifelines.

“Our boys… they’re coming.” Spencer choked out, his voice breaking. 

I kissed him, unable to stop crying. “We’re gonna be dads,” I whispered, the reality sinking in. “We’re really going to be dads.”

We stayed like that for what felt like forever until the weight of another realization settled over us. Spencer wiped at his eyes, his brow furrowing. “Owen… I have to go to the hospital. I’m the one who has to sign the papers.”

I nodded, understanding the unspoken fear behind his words. Spencer hadn’t left the apartment in months. He was simply too big. Clothes didn’t fit him anymore, and he hadn’t wanted the world to see how much he’d grown. But now, we didn’t have a choice.

“Hey, you can do this,” I said, smiling at him. “For them. For us. Don’t worry.”

Spencer swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah… yeah, I can.”

I helped him roll his massive body into a sitting position, the bed creaking in protest. He grunted, breathless from the effort, his hands braced on the edge of the mattress. His belly hung heavily between his thighs, the sheer size of it making sitting upright a challenge. His pecs, now plumper and softer, rested atop the upper curve of his belly, and I could see tiny droplets of milk on his permanently engorged nipples.

I helped him stand slowly and carefully, his breath coming in short gasps as he struggled to balance his heavy body. His hips had widened, and his ass was rounder and fuller, making the movements a bit more difficult. His whole body had thickened with a soft layer of fat, and yet, beneath it all, the strength remained because he had to move such a heavy body.

“I feel like I weigh a ton today,” he said when he got to his feet, one of his hands moving to his lower back while the other rested on his belly.

“Well, I think you look fantastic,” I said, and he breathlessly chuckled as I guided him to the bathroom. “You always say it, one step at a time.”

“Yeah, easy to say it when you can see your feet,” he responded and laughed. He constantly complained about his condition, but I knew better; deep down, he loved it.

I turned on the shower when we entered the bathroom, letting the steam fill the room. Spencer eased onto the bench, groaning softly as the water cascaded over him. I washed him gently, my hands moving over every inch of his swollen body, tracing the curve of his belly, the breadth of his chest, the fullness of his thighs, and his oversized balls. He leaned back, eyes closed, trusting me completely. It took time, but I left my big guy spotless.

Dressing Spencer was more challenging than I had anticipated, though neither of us was surprised. His body had outgrown nearly everything he owned, and I could see the apprehension on his face as I rummaged through the drawers. Clothes that had once hung loosely now barely stretched over the sheer expanse of his body.

“Let’s start with the T-shirt,” I said, pulling out the largest one he owned. It was gray, soft, and stretched out from wear, but I already knew it wouldn’t come close to covering him. Spencer sat on the edge of the bed, his belly resting heavily on his thighs. His pecs sat full and plump on top, rounder than they had ever been, each one crowned with swollen, dark nipples that had grown permanently sensitive.

“I’m going to look ridiculous,” he murmured, blushing.

“No,” I replied, shaking my head as I stood before him to help him into the T-shirt. “You’re going to look like a man who’s about to meet his sons.”

He softly smiled, lifting his arms as much as he could to allow me to slide the shirt over his broad shoulders, slowly stretching it down. It clung to every contour, the fabric pulling taut across the massive swell of his chest, the hem barely brushing the upper curve of his belly. His pecs strained the neckline, the fabric pressing tightly around his nipples, accentuating their fullness. As I tugged it further down, the shirt rode up the sides of his belly, unable to meet the bottom, leaving the underside exposed. His belly button, now stretched and shallow, peeked out, and I ran my fingers lightly over it, eliciting a soft chuckle from Spencer.

“You’re staring,” he teased, but his breath was already a little short from the simple act of putting on the T-shirt.

“How could I not?” I said, standing back to admire him. “You’re breathtaking.”

He flushed, shaking his head. “I’m huge.”

I smiled. “Exactly.”

Next came the underwear and pants, and this was where the real struggle began. I picked up some boxer briefs and I dug through the closet and found a pair of sweatpants with an elastic waistband, hoping for the best. “Okay,” I said, holding them up. “Let’s try these.”

Spencer laughed, aware that even the stretchy material would hardly fit. “Good luck. I don’t think they’ll fit.”

He stood slowly, his belly shifting, and I held onto his arm to steady him. As he balanced, I knelt before him, carefully guiding the boxer briefs up first. Since they stretched a lot it wasn’t that difficult until I had to fit his bull balls and cock into the pouch. His balls were swollen and sensitive due to the hormones so when I touched them he groaned and his cock slightly stirred. I chuckled as I managed to get everything in place while he panted. Then came the pants, which I slowly pulled up his legs. The waistband stretched and creaked as I worked them over his hips, finally settling beneath his belly, which jutted out, leaving a wide gap of exposed skin. His massive butt strained the fabric, the material molding to every curve and leaving nothing to the imagination.

“There,” I said, hands on my hips. “It’s snug, but it’ll do.”

Spencer ran a hand over his belly, shaking his head in disbelief. “I feel like a sausage stuffed into a casing,” he joked, turning slightly to check his reflection in the mirror. The pants clung to him like a second skin, and the shirt rode high. But it was the best we could do. He laughed again, and with one final glance in the mirror, we turned toward the door. “Okay,” he said, exhaling deeply. “Let’s go meet our boys.”

The moment we stepped out of the elevator, the stares began. There was no hiding Spencer’s size. People’s eyes widened as they took in the full extent of him—his bulging belly, his massive frame, the strain on his clothes, the way his whole body seemed to have expanded. A few people looked at him with obvious surprise, some with curiosity, others with an almost playful lust. I couldn’t stop the growl that rumbled in my throat at how some of them looked at him. My protective instincts kicked in, and I squeezed Spencer’s hand, pulling him a little closer to me, making sure he knew I was watching out for him.

Spencer smiled up at me, his lips curving into a playful grin. “Relax, Owen. I’m all yours,” he whispered as if sensing the change in my demeanor.

“I know, but still…” I replied, but the possessiveness was still there, my arm wrapping around his waist a little tighter as we made our way through the hall. All the way to the hospital was the same: people admiring Spencer’s size while I tried to let everybody know that he was mine and only mine.

When we arrived at the hospital, we moved through the corridors, heading toward the maternity ward. When we arrived there, I could feel Spencer’s anxiety increase, though he hid it well. His hand gripped mine tighter, and I squeezed it back. We approached the counter where a nurse was working, her eyes flicking up in surprise when she saw Spencer’s size. She quickly composed herself, her professionalism kicking in, and smiled warmly.

“Good morning. How can I help you?” She asked, her eyes flicking between us.

“Spencer Richards… or Spencer Collins,” he said, his voice steady despite the nerves he was trying to hide. “Our… surrogate… yeah… let’s call her that. She texted me earlier to tell me she was in labor, and we came to meet the babies.”

She quickly began typing something into the computer. “Ah, yes. Mr. Collins, we’ve been expecting you. The twins have already been born, and all the legal documents are ready for you to take full custody.” She paused for a moment, then added, “I’ll take you to them now.”

This was the moment we had been waiting for months, the reason we had gone through everything. It was time to meet our sons. The nurse led us down a hallway to the maternity ward, the soft murmur of newborns filling the air. When we arrived at the nursery, Spencer’s eyes went wide with emotion. There, lying in two small bassinets, were the twins—perfect little boys, sleeping soundly. They looked just like Spencer, perfect.

“They’re perfect,” Spencer whispered, his voice breaking. “Our boys.”

I watched as Spencer gently placed his hand on the glass, staring down at them with pure love. “They look just like me,” he said softly, a smile tugging at his lips despite the tears. “They’re going to be huge, just like their daddy, and sweet just like their dad,” he added, looking at me as I wrapped my arms around him.

“They will, big guy,” I agreed, unable to take my eyes off of them. “They’re everything we’ve ever wanted.”

I could see the tears welling up in Spencer’s eyes, and he leaned against the glass. “We’re a family, Owen.”

“And soon our family will get even bigger,” I whispered into his ear, our hands moving to his belly as we observed our baby boys. Their mom had already signed everything, so we didn’t have to see her. Spencer’s cheating was a thing of the past now that the twins were ours.

...

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