“You’re… what?” Glen says, genuinely disoriented.
Zak’s head snaps up. “Wait… pregnant?”
Kate doesn’t look away from her husband. Her hands are flat on the table now.
“I’m pregnant,” she repeats, a little firmer this time.
“That’s not possible,” he says, shaking his head. “We use condoms. Every time.”
“You’re telling me a condom failed?”
Kate nods quickly, grateful for the lifeline. “They do. It happens. Rare, but—” she lifts one shoulder in a helpless little shrug, “it happens.”
Glen drags a hand down his face.
“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters, more to himself than to her. “We were careful. Always. You know that.”
“I know,” Kate says softly. Too softly. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this.”
“So…” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, forcing a half‑smile that doesn’t survive the sentence, “are you… are you keeping it?”
“Are you serious?” she says, heat flooding her voice. “Of course I’m keeping it.”
Glen flinches. “Kate, I didn’t mean—”
“How could anyone not?” she snaps, eyes blazing now. “What kind of question is that?”
“I just…” He holds his hands up defensively, already regretting it. “It’s a shock, that’s all. I was just trying to—”
“To what?” she cuts in. “See if I’m the kind of woman who’d just… get rid of it because it’s inconvenient?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“That’s exactly what it sounded like.”
“Kate… I’m just saying,” he begins, careful now, “we’re older. Zak’s eighteen. We were finally…” he gestures vaguely, helplessly, “we were getting our lives back.”
Kate’s eyes narrow.
“We can enjoy things again,” he continues, softer. “Travel. Breathe. Not worry about school runs and nappies and being tied down all over—”
“So this is about convenience,” she says flatly.
“No…” he shakes his head quickly. “It’s about reality. This would mean starting again. Another dependent. Another eighteen years.” He looks at her. “Can you really do that?”
“Yes,” she says immediately. “I can.”
Glen opens his mouth, but she doesn’t let him in.
“And I am,” she adds. “So you’d better get used to that idea now.”
He stares at her, stunned by the certainty.
“You’re talking like this is a mistake,” she says, pointing at her own chest. “Like this is something that’s happening to us, instead of something I’m choosing.”
“I’m not saying it’s a mistake,” he insists. “I’m saying it’s a massive change.”
“And I’m saying it’s happening.”
Kate’s shoulders drop. The fire drains out of her, replaced by something gentler.
“Come on, Glen,” she says quietly. “Would it really be so bad… having another little us running around again?”
He doesn’t answer straight away.
She smiles. “You loved it. The late nights, the stupid baby talk, teaching Zak to ride his bike. You were good at it.”
Glen exhales through his nose. He looks away.
“And I know,” she adds softly, squeezing his arm now, “you’re a big shot at the office these days. Always busy. Meetings, travel, all of it.” She tilts her head, reassuring. “So I can give up work when the time comes. I’ll stay home. I’ll do the day‑to‑day.”
He looks back at her then.
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” she cuts in. “I can handle it. You won’t be dragging prams or doing school runs between conference calls. I’ll take that weight.”
The way she says weight hits him.
Glen rubs his face slowly, thinking. Recalculating.
“So you’re serious,” he says. “About all of it.”
“I am,” Kate replies.
He nods once. Then again.
“If you’re willing to do the work,” he says carefully, “and you’re sure… then yeah.” He lets out a breath he’s been holding. “I can live with that.”
Kate’s smile widens, relief blooming fast.
“Really?”
He shrugs, half‑smiling now despite himself. “I mean… I didn’t hate the idea. I just panicked.”
Zak clears his throat.
“And… you know, Dad,” he says, keeping his voice even, casual, “when I’m not at college, I can help out.”
Glen raises an eyebrow. “Help out how?”
Zak shrugs. “Shopping and stuff. Cot bed. Pram. All the heavy things.” He glances at his mum, then back at his dad. “Help decorate the spare room too. Painting, moving furniture.”
Kate’s smile flickers.
“All Mum would have to do is drive,” Zak adds. “Unless you can get me insured on her car, then I could do that too.”
Glen just stares at him.
Really stares, like he’s trying to line this calm, thoughtful young man up with the sarcastic teenager he knows.
“Where the hell has my son gone?” Glen says finally, shaking his head in disbelief. “And who is this new, considerate young man sitting in my kitchen?”
Zak lets out a small, awkward grin. “Still me. Just… older, I guess.”
Kate leans closer to Zak, resting a hand on his arm, pride written all over her face.
She looks at Glen, eyes warm, shining just a little.
“That’s my boy,” she says.
Glen laughs under his breath, half‑amused, half‑stunned. “Well,” he says, exhaling, “if you’re volunteering, I’m not saying no.”
Kate beams.
And in that moment, with plans being made and roles slipping neatly into place, Zak realises the cruel irony of it all:
He’s being praised for helping raise a child
no one knows is already his.
Glen claps his hands together once, like he’s closing a meeting.
“Right,” he says, forcing a lighter tone than he feels. “Let’s… continue this later.”
Kate looks up. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” he nods quickly. “I just need a shower. Clear my head.” He gestures at the table. “I’ll warm the pizza up later.”
He gives Zak a look on his way past — not suspicious.
“Good lad,” he says, almost absent‑mindedly, before heading for the stairs.
They listen to his footsteps fade. The bathroom door closes upstairs.
She turns to Zak.
“Yes,” she says quietly. “Before you ask.”
He looks up at her, caught off guard by how calm she sounds.
“It’s yours.”
Zak’s breath leaves him slowly. “Mum…”
He runs a hand through his hair, paces once, then stops in front of her again. “And you’re… okay with it?”
“More than okay,” she says. “I’m really glad it is.”
“And Dad?” Zak asks quietly.
“He believes what he believes,” she says. “And that’s how it stays.”
Zak nods. “So what does that make me?”
Kate holds his gaze.
“In his eyes,” she says quietly, “and in the eyes of the world… you’re the big brother.”
Zak nods once. He already knows that part.
“But in ours,” she continues, voice dropping, “you’re the baby’s dad.”
“And that doesn’t come with rules,” she adds. “You can be as involved as you want. As much or as little as you’re ready for.” A pause. “I’m not forcing you into anything. Not now. Not ever.”
Zak swallows. “And Dad?”
Kate’s expression tightens—not with guilt, but resolve.
“The baby will be raised as his,” she says. “He’ll be the dad. Publicly. Practically. In every way that matters to the outside world.” She exhales slowly. “It has to be that way.”
Zak looks down, processing the relief, the loss, the strange in-between space she’s offering.
“And you’re okay with that?” he asks.
She nods. “I am.”
“And you?” she asks gently. “Can you live with that?”
Zak is quiet for a moment. When he finally looks up, there’s no panic on his face. Just clarity.
“Yeah,” he says. “I can.”
She studies him, searching for hesitation.
“I know what I am,” he adds. “And I know what I’m not allowed to be. I can handle that.” A small sigh. “If it means our baby’s safe…”
Zak leans back slightly, testing the waters. His voice comes quick, nervous but daring.
“Can I say one thing?” he blurts.
Kate looks up mid-bite of her pizza, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?” she says, casual, still chewing.
Zak grins wickedly.
“The first thing that popped into my head,” he says, voice low, “when you told me you’re pregnant…” He pauses.
Kate sets her slice down, intrigued. “Oh?”
“I thought… how fucking hot it is,” he says, leaning forward, eyes locked on hers, “that you’re gonna have your son’s baby.”
“Oh, baby,” she says, “I had the exact same thought when I saw that little stick turn positive.”
“We are so bad, aren’t we?” she adds, a giggle slipping out.
“I mean…” she continues, teasing, “we’re so good at sex…” She lets the words hang. “…but we’re so deliciously bad.”
“Anyway,” she says, “I think I deserve a hug. Don’t you?”
He swallows, a grin tugging at his lips despite himself. “You think you deserve a hug?”
“I know I do,” she shoots back, leaning closer, the corner of her mouth curling.
They end up wrapped in each other’s arms.
Kate’s lips curve into a wicked grin as she looks up at him. “If you think it’s been extreme until now,” she whispers, “just wait for the hormones to kick in…”
Her eyes darken with mischief. “…because I can assure you… pregnant women love dick.”
She leans in, smirking, letting the words linger. “And I’m going to make sure you know it.”
They’re still tangled together, arms tight, lost in the moment, when Glen walks in. They don’t even hear his footsteps on the stairs.
“Wow, I’ve got such a happy, loving family,” he says.
Kate and Zak spring apart, spinning to face him, faces flaming.
Glen just grins wider, then lets out a big laugh. “What’s with the guilty looks? You two look like lovers who just got busted.”
They’re all shattered from the night—Glen still half shell-shocked—so they shuffle off to bed and crash hard.
“Zak! Get up!”
Zak bolts upright, squinting against daylight. His mum is perched on the edge of his mattress in nothing but a thin, almost see-through nightdress that clings to every curve. She shakes his shoulder, eyes already burning.
The second he’s properly awake, she stands, the fabric riding up her thighs.
“Your dad’s gone out for a couple hours,” she says. “I need your help with something. Right now.”
She yanks the covers off in one hard pull. His cock is already half-hard just from the sight of her. She grabs his wrist, drags him out of bed, and marches him down the hall to her room.
The bedroom door hasn’t even shut before she slams him against the wall, hands fisting his t-shirt, mouth crashing onto his. She kisses him like she’s starving—tongue deep, teeth scraping, sucking hard enough to bruise. One hand slides straight into his boxers, wrapping around his thickening shaft, stroking rough and fast while she grinds against his thigh.
“Fuck, I’ve been wet since I woke up thinking about you,” she breathes against his mouth. “Need you inside me. Now. Bend me over the bed and fuck me like you hate me.”
The Harrisons settle into their new rhythm fast.
Glen works his long hours like always, coming home late and exhausted. Every spare pound goes toward the nursery—paint, furniture, crib, the works. He smiles tiredly at Kate’s growing belly, says how excited he is, then crashes on the sofa.
Kate keeps working until she can’t anymore. The bigger she gets, the more she glows—tits fuller, hips wider, that pregnant flush on her skin. And the hornier she becomes. She proves to Zak quick that a pregnant woman doesn’t just want dick—she fucking craves it.
They go at it like animals whenever they get the chance, no slowing down even as her belly grows huge.
Once she stops working, the leash is off completely. Zak “works extra hard” at college, tells his dad he’s switched to mostly online classes so he can stay home three days a week, nose deep in books and close by if Mum needs him. Glen buys it, proud as hell, and brags about it to his mates.
Reality? The second Glen’s taillights disappear, they slam the bolt home, and the house turns into their personal fuck-den.
Every room gets wrecked. Kitchen counter—Kate face down, arse up, legs shaking while he hammers into her so hard the mugs rattle and fall. Living-room floor—her flat on her back, knees over his shoulders, him driving so deep she screams his name and leaves bloody scratches down his back. Stairs—they can’t even make it to the top, her gripping the rail while he fucks her from behind, balls slapping loud against her soaked, swollen cunt.
Shower turns into a wet, slippery battlefield—water pounding, her gagging on his cock, then spun around, hands slapped to the tiles, him slamming in so brutally her knees give out. Laundry room—the dryer thumping, vibrations ripping through her while he bends her over it, screams muffled in warm towels. Backyard—one risky afternoon, broad daylight, her on all fours in the grass, face buried in her arms while he mounts her hard, yanking her hair, spanking her arse bright red.
Mornings she wakes him by shoving her dripping pussy onto his face, grinding until he’s drenched, then flipping to sink down on his cock, riding him like she wants to snap the bed.
Hormones have her feral—dripping, cock-starved, insatiable. She demands it rougher every time: “Harder. Deeper. Bruise me inside. Make me come till I can’t walk.” He pins her wrists, chokes her just enough, slaps her clit until she sobs, then pumps her full while she milks him dry, whispering how she wants his come leaking out for days.
They hit every surface, every corner, every piece of furniture Glen bought. The house stinks of sweat, her slick, his load, her leaking milk. They collapse, gasping, covered in each other, only to start again.
The due date is three days away. It’s a hot, sunny afternoon, light pouring through Zak’s bedroom window, warming the rumpled sheets.
Kate’s on top this time—reverse cowgirl, facing the big mirror propped against the wall at the perfect angle beside the bed.
She’s peeled off his old t-shirt and tossed it aside. Her heavy tits hang free, full and leaking, nipples sore and hard. They rest against the massive curve of her bump, jiggling with every shift.
She plants her hands on his thighs, knees wide, then lifts slow—his cock sliding almost out of her swollen, dripping cunt before she slams back down hard.
A loud, wet smack fills the room as he bottoms out, balls slapping her soaked skin. Her tits bounce, slapping lightly against her belly, beads of milk flicking off the tips.
In the mirror she sees everything: her flushed face, messy hair, lips parted in a moan, the huge stomach curving out, tits heaving, and Zak underneath, hands gripping her hips, eyes locked on hers in the reflection.
“Fuck… look at us,” she groans. “Look how filthy we look.”
She rises again, teasing, letting him feel every inch drag along her tight walls, then drops with force. Another lewd smack—louder, wetter—her arse rippling, tits bouncing higher, milk dripping down the curves of her breasts and trailing over her taut stomach.
She sets a brutal pace: slow lift, vicious slam. Each plunge makes that obscene clap echo—her pussy gripping him like a fist, stretching wide when he bottoms out. The bed creaks, springs groaning, headboard tapping the wall. Her tits keep jiggling, heavy and hypnotic.
“God, listen to how wet I am,” she pants, grinding in tight circles at the bottom, stirring him deep. “Your cock’s hitting everything… See how full you make me?”
Zak’s hands dig into her hips, helping her rise, then yanking her down harder. Every slam makes her tits bounce higher, milk dripping faster, splattering her stomach and the sheets. He thrusts up to meet her, driving deeper, their eyes meeting in the mirror—hers glassy and desperate, his dark and hungry.
She speeds up—faster drops, wetter smacks, pure porn. Her thighs shake, slick running down his shaft, pooling on his balls. She reaches back, spreads herself wider so they can watch his cock disappear into her over and over, tits heaving wildly.
Soon, Zak can’t hold back. His hips jerk up hard one last time, burying himself balls-deep as he unloads thick ropes of potent cum straight into her birth canal, flooding her swollen depths. Pulse after pulse pumps into her until it leaks out around his shaft in creamy trails.
She’d come moments before, soaking him—girl cum gushing in hot spurts, drenching his cock, his balls, the sheets. Her pussy clamped down like a vice, milking him relentlessly while she shook and moaned, tits jiggling against her bump, milk dripping from her nipples.
In the mirror, they watch it all: her face twisted in bliss, eyes half-lidded, mouth open in a silent scream; his bruising grip; her puffy lips stretched wide, slick and shining, their mixed mess dribbling down in slow rivulets.
She stays seated on him after, still impaled, breathing ragged, feeling every twitch as the last spurts ooze out. His hands slide up her sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of her leaking tits.
“Fuck,” she whispers, voice hoarse. “Filled me right up… gonna be dripping your load for hours.”
He groans low, hips giving one lazy thrust that makes more leak out. “Good. Want you walking around like that when Dad gets home.”
A few minutes later, Kate carefully lifts off, his softening cock slipping free with a wet pop, thick strings of their mess stretching then snapping.
She’s a wreck—sweaty, flushed, cum leaking slowly and creamily down her inner thighs, tits heavy and dripping milk onto her bump.
She swings her legs over the side, groaning as she pushes upright. The room spins a little. “Gotta clean up,” she mutters, one hand braced under her belly as she waddles toward the door.
Halfway across the floor… splat.
A hot gush rushes down her legs, clear fluid splashing loudly against the hardwood.
Her waters have broken right there in Zak’s room.
They both freeze.
Kate looks down in shock, then up at him, eyes wide. “Oh fuck… it’s happening.”
Zak bolts upright. “Shit, now? Right now?”
She nods fast, breathing shallow. “Yeah, now. Quick, grab the bag, get dressed. You need to drive me to the hospital. We’ll call your dad on the way.”
He scrambles off the bed, yanking on shorts and a shirt while she stands dripping, one hand clutching the doorframe, the other cradling her belly as another small wave trickles down her legs.
“Keys—where the fuck are the keys?” he yells.
“Hall table,” she gasps, already shuffling toward the stairs. “Hurry, Zak. Contractions’ll start soon. Move.”
He snatches the hospital bag, slings it over his shoulder, grabs his phone and the car keys. She’s halfway down the stairs by the time he catches up, supporting her elbow, both moving as fast as her huge frame allows.
By the time Glen bursts through the hospital room door, breathless, it’s already done. Kate lies propped up in the bed, exhausted but glowing, cradling a tiny wrapped bundle against her chest. The baby—a perfect, pink-faced little girl—is latched on, suckling greedily at Kate’s breast, tiny fist curled…
