Enjoy the Ride - Part 5 (Patreon)

By late July, my life had become a whirlwind of emotions, cravings, and the constant, undeniable moves of the babies growing inside me. The first kicks I had felt on the rooftop with Greg seemed to ignite something within me—a deep, almost instinctual awareness of the life I carried. Those tiny movements became more frequent, and each kick was a reminder that my body was no longer my own. Anxiety and excitement flooded my mind in equal measure, and with every kick, I found myself smiling and placing a hand on my ever-growing belly.

It didn’t take long before this new awareness triggered another shift—an insatiable rush of cravings that hit me throughout the day, every day. Some were simple, like the sudden need for a chocolate milkshake or a buttery croissant. Others were bizarre—pickles dipped in peanut butter, or a combination of scrambled eggs with maple syrup drizzled on top. I couldn’t help myself. Each craving demanded immediate attention, and my two most loyal enablers, Mr. Griffin and Greg were more than willing to provide anything my hormone-driven body asked for.

Greg continued leaving little snacks on my desk every day—freshly baked pastries, fruit cups, or bags of sour candy that made my mouth water. Mr. Griffin asked me every morning what I craved, and no matter how crazy the combination sounded, I knew I would have it on my desk a while later. I often told him he spoiled me too much, but Mr. Griffin only smiled. He was a dream come true.

But on the other hand, Mr. Griffin was out of this world. With each passing day, he cared less about others finding out the boss was sending me some snacks or food. And by lunch hour, I always had a delivery guy bringing food to me to satisfy my crazy cravings. He also spoiled me, but he always said I was having his babies, so it was his way to feed the unborn babies and help them grow. A happy and filled daddy meant big and healthy babies. He was the sweetest.

Between Greg’s attentiveness and Mr. Griffin’s unwavering support at home, I was caught in a strange, comforting limbo where I felt undeniably cared for yet increasingly overwhelmed.

At home, Mr. Griffin was no less doting. His personal chef now catered to my cravings day and night. One evening, as I sat at the dining table with Marco, savoring a plate of creamy fettuccine Alfredo I had begged for just minutes earlier, Mr. Griffin entered the room with a tray of fresh cannoli.

“I thought you might want dessert,” he said, placing it in front of me and gently rubbing my shoulder. “Maybe you could share some with Marco?”

Marco giggled from across the table. “Wow! It looks so good, Uncle Mitchell! May I have some, Daddy?”

I glanced at Marco, smiling at him. “Yeah, bud. But I’m really hungry, so don’t wait too much, or I’ll finish the whole tray before you even start,” I playfully said, patting my belly.

Marco giggled and started eating, telling “Uncle Mitchell” about his day. Marco felt comfortable with Mr. Griffin, and it made me happy, but at the same time, I knew he had questions. Marco’s curiosity about my belly had grown alongside it. He asked endless questions, poking and prodding at the taut curve whenever he could. “Why is it so hard?” he asked one evening as we sat on the couch together, his hands pressing against my belly.

I didn’t know what to answer because I was running out of lies, and I knew I still had a long way to grow before the babies were born. So, I decided to tell him the truth. “It’s because the babies are growing,” I explained, brushing his hair and smiling. “They’re running out of room because they’re getting big and strong like you.”

I noticed the confusion in his eyes, so I told him that his daddy was special and was helping someone who wanted to have babies. Part of me wanted to tell Marco that he was going to be a big brother, but I didn’t want him to get emotionally attached to the babies. We weren’t supposed to stay around after they were born—though I wasn’t sure anymore. I explained that it had to be our secret, and he understood.

“Are they kicking right now?” he asked, his eyes wide with wonder. I took his hand and guided it to the side of my belly where one of the babies was stretching. Marco gasped as he felt the tiny movement beneath his palm. “Whoa! That’s so cool!” His excitement made me smile and forget about the aches, the struggles, and the complexity of the situation.

Things weren’t that bad, but the changes in my body were becoming harder to manage as my belly continued growing. By the end of July, when I was 24 weeks pregnant, my belly stuck out a foot in front of me, a taut, round orb that seemed to defy gravity. My hips had widened considerably, my ass had grown thicker, and my thighs rubbed together now when I walked. My chest had filled out, and even my arms and face had taken on a softer, fuller appearance. Despite my best efforts, I had to rely on some “maternity” clothes Mr. Griffin had bought for me. But they were snug and stretched tightly over my expanding body.

At work, the stares were unavoidable. I noticed my colleagues’ eyes lingering on me when they thought I wasn’t looking. The gossip didn’t bother me as much as I’d expected, partly because I had grown used to the whispers but mostly because I was too tired to care. My focus was on getting through each day, satisfying my cravings, and counting down the hours until I could lie down again.

Greg was a constant source of peace during the workday. He didn’t just leave me snacks anymore; he would bring me lunch or offer to carry my things when I was too exhausted. One afternoon, he even adjusted my chair for me, lowering it so I could sit more comfortably. His kindness felt like a balm against the chaos of my changing world.

At 24 weeks pregnant, I weighed 234 pounds, a monumental 80 more pounds than when I started the pregnancy. I knew I was growing too fast, but considering I was carrying sextuplets, I expected to get big. Also, the cravings and the constant snacks were only accelerating the growth. I was reaching a point where everybody knew something was wrong with me, but I insisted on keeping working. I was too big to do most stuff easily, but I wanted to retain the little control I still had in this crazy situation.

Everything was getting harder, but Greg was still the brightest part of my work hours. On a particularly sweltering afternoon, Greg left another note on my desk, asking me to meet him in one of the office bathrooms. I got curious and admittedly a little flustered by his attention, so I made my way there, my heavy belly swaying with each step as my ass bounced hypnotically. I instinctively moved one of my hands to caress my abdomen while the other moved to the small of my back. I didn’t care if I looked pregnant while I walked. I only needed to see Greg in the bathroom.

When I entered the bathroom, Greg was waiting for me, his massive body leaning casually against the counter. He had rolled up his sleeves, revealing his thick, muscular forearms, and his shirt clung to his chest in a way that made my pulse quicken. His uniform looked more snug than ever, making it appear like he had grown more muscular recently. I couldn’t help but gasp, and my cock stirred in my pants at the sight.

“Hey,” Greg softly said, stepping closer. “I thought you might need a break.”

I nodded, my throat dry. “I’m definitely feeling huge and heavy today,” I playfully said, placing my hands on the sides of my belly.

Greg smiled, his hands reaching out to rest gently on my shoulders. “Let me help.”

Before I could protest, he effortlessly lifted me in his arms, placing me on the edge of the counter. Greg began massaging my back and shoulders, his strong hands kneading the tension away. I sighed, closing my eyes as the pressure eased the aches that had been building all day. “How does that feel?” He asked, but I loved his touch so much that I couldn’t find the words to respond.

Then his hands moved to my belly, and I opened my eyes, startled. “Greg.”

“It’s okay,” Greg responded with a soothing voice. His fingers traced the curve of my belly, and I felt so comfortable and vulnerable that I could only smile at him. “You’re so hot, Adam. Look how round this belly is and how big you’re getting.”

I couldn’t help but blush as he leaned down and passionately kissed my lips. For a moment, I forgot everything—Mr. Griffin, the stares, the weight of my pregnancy. It was just Greg and me and the quiet intensity of his kiss. Our making out made me feel great, alive, and at peace. But the moment was interrupted by the buzz of my phone. I pulled it from my pocket, my heart sinking as I read a text from Mr. Griffin. “I have to go,” I said reluctantly. “I have a doctor’s appointment. Mr. Griffin is already waiting for me.”

Greg stepped back, his expression sad but understanding. “Okay. But we’re not done yet. I know this is complicated, but I can’t wait for you to deliver these babies. Then, I’ll put a few of mine in there,” he said, kissing my lips again as he helped me off the counter.

As I left the bathroom, my mind was a storm of emotions. Between Greg’s touch and Mr. Griffin’s constant presence, I didn’t know how to reconcile my feelings. But as I felt the babies shift and kick inside me, I knew one thing for sure: I had to keep moving forward, no matter how complicated things became.

The drive to the doctor’s office felt surreal. Mr. Griffin took me there in his sleek black car, his hand resting on my knee as if to anchor me in place. He was the sweetest and often caressed my belly while driving. His firm hand was a stark contrast to the storm of emotions swirling inside me. I kept catching glimpses of him out of the corner of my eye—handsome face, the soft smile that tugged at his lips whenever he glanced at me. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep my feelings sorted. Greg was a constant presence in my mind. The thought of his strong hands and sweet attention made my chest flutter. But then there was Mr. Griffin—sweet, caring, and with an inexplicable power for making me feel both protected and utterly confused.

“You seem nervous,” Mr. Griffin said, breaking the silence. His hand gave my knee a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m fine,” I lied, offering him a faint smile. “I’m just tired. Your babies have been moving a lot lately,” I said, smiling at him. He didn’t press further, but the concerned look he gave me made my heart squeeze.

Then, when we walked into the doctor’s office, Mr. Griffin took over. He signed me in, helped me out of my jacket, and even handed me a bottle of water when I mentioned I was thirsty. The waiting room felt suffocating, with people staring at me like I was a freak show, but his sweetness made it bearable. When my name was called, he placed a hand on the small of my back as we walked into the exam room.

The doctor greeted us warmly, though his eyes slightly widened when he saw the size of my belly. At 24 weeks, it was undeniably large, even for sextuplets. “You’re looking bigger than expected,” he said, his tone light but curious. “Let’s start with a general check-up before the ultrasound.”

I nodded, and the doctor instructed me to remove my shirt. I hesitated for a moment, feeling a wave of vulnerability wash over me, but Mr. Griffin’s firm nod gave me the courage to comply. As I pulled off my shirt, my belly was revealed in its full, taut glory. It protruded far in front of me, firm and rounded, with faint veins visible beneath the stretched skin. My chest had filled out as well, my nipples slightly darker and more sensitive—a side effect of the hormones coursing through my body.

The doctor began by palpating my belly, his hands firm but gentle as he pressed along the sides. “Any tenderness here?” he asked.

“A little,” I admitted, wincing slightly.

“That’s normal with this many babies,” he reassured me. His hands moved upward, pressing gently against my ribs where the top of my womb now rested. “You’re measuring quite large, but everything feels as it should.”

Next, he moved to my chest, checking for swelling or lumps. My cheeks burned at the intimacy of the exam, but I reminded myself that this was routine. Mr. Griffin stood by the chair, his eyes fixed on me, looking like a true protective alpha.

After the physical exam, the doctor asked me to lie on the examination table for the ultrasound. As I settled onto my back, the weight of my belly pressing against me, Mr. Griffin moved to stand beside me, his hand immediately finding mine.

“This might feel a little cool,” the doctor said, spreading the gel over my belly.

I nodded, focusing on Mr. Griffin’s touch as the probe glided across my skin. The now-familiar swooshing sound of the babies’ heartbeats filled the room, and I felt a small smile tug at my lips. But then the doctor frowned. His movements became more careful, his gaze narrowing at the screen. I paled.

“What’s wrong?” Mr. Griffin asked in concern.

The doctor hesitated. “It’s... unusual,” he began. “I’m hearing an additional set of heartbeats.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, my voice trembling.

The doctor sighed, clearly trying to choose his words carefully. “It appears that you have a second, less developed set of babies. They’re smaller and in a separate amniotic sac.”

I blinked, struggling to process what he was saying. “I don’t understand. Are the babies okay? What does “less developed” mean?”

“It’s called superfetation,” the doctor explained. “It’s extremely rare, especially with multiples. Essentially, you conceived again after the initial set of embryos was implanted. It’s remarkable. Unprecedented, even more than before.”

My mouth went dry as the reality sank in. “What?!”

“You have the sextuplets, and now you have additional quadruplets growing inside your womb. You’re carrying ten babies, Adam,” the doctor said, sounding excited and concerned. “Six at 24 weeks and four at 12 weeks.”

The room spun. I felt Mr. Griffin’s grip tighten on my hand, his voice distant as he called my name. But it was too much. The shock overwhelmed me, and everything went black.

****

I was lying on the plush couch in the penthouse a few hours later, with a soft blanket draped over me, still processing the recent news. Mr. Griffin sat beside me, his hand resting protectively on my belly. Marco was already asleep, so I knew he wouldn’t interrupt our conversation. I was terrified, but Mr. Griffin’s excitement was intoxicating.

“You’re going to be okay,” Mr. Griffin said, smiling at me and somehow making me feel slightly better. “I know it sounds like a lot, but you can handle this.”

I nodded weakly, my hand instinctively moving to my abdomen. “Ten...” I whispered, the word feeling foreign on my tongue.

Mr. Griffin smiled, his eyes filled with wonder. “Ten of our babies. It sounds fantastic.”

“Our?” I asked, my voice trembling.

He leaned closer, his thumb brushing over my cheek. “We created them together, Adam. All of them. I don’t care how it all started—all I care about is you and the babies. And from now on, I want you to stay home. No more work. You need to rest. And I’m not asking.”

I nodded, though my heart sank at the thought of not seeing Greg. But as Mr. Griffin’s hand moved to my belly, gently tracing the curve, I felt a strange comfort. “I don’t know how I’ll manage to get so big with ten babies inside me.”

“It’ll be great, and I’ll take care of everything,” he promised, his lips brushing against mine. I gasped at the tenderness of the kiss, my body relaxing under his touch.

Then, he began to undress me, and I couldn’t resist. His hands were careful and loving; every movement was thought to make me feel safe and cherished. I couldn’t help but smile as I lay on the couch, and he started getting over me. Despite the shock and fear, I felt surrounded by love—and that made the weight of my pregnancy just a little easier to bear.

“Ten babies. Don’t you think this deserves a celebration?” He said and teasingly reached for my hips to squeeze them firmly.

“I—I think it does,” I replied without thinking. My arousal drove my actions. My desire took over, and despite the mixed emotions, I surrendered to Mr. Griffin again.

The big man was too good, too sweet, too fantastic to resist him. I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, and he effortlessly lifted me off the couch. Between Greg’s enormous muscles and Mr. Griffin’s massive build, I felt vulnerable very often, but at this particular moment, I felt safe. He carried me to his bedroom, and before I knew it, his cock was deep inside me, and loud moans escaped my mouth. My mind was blurry, and even though I couldn’t take Greg out of my thoughts, Mr. Griffin’s overwhelming fucking was too good to worry about anything else but the huge cock stretching my hole once again.

...

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