Mpreg-Writings

Chapter Eleven: Wired for Ultrasound Michael jostled his leg up and down, trying hard as anything not to let his fingernails anywhere near his teeth. Ever since he’d quit smoking, Michael had fallen back into disgusting habits he’d not performed since starting the cancer sticks at seventeen. Gum worked most of the time, but he quickly ran out during his morning sickness weeks and kept forgetting to restock. He sat in Dr. Abel’s empty waiting room, trying to distract himself from his own brain. Next to him, Joey was flicking through an old New Yorker. He was secretly skipping the articles and going straight for the cartoons. Michael pretended not to notice, as he occasionally did the same himself. He bounced his leg as he read over Joey’s shoulder. Joey finally let his hand fall on Michael’s knee, chiding, “Would you cut that out? Relax. They said the doc’s running a little behind. Were you this nervous the last time?” Michael glared, “No, Joe! I was the picture of serenity.

Chapter Ten: Paging Dr. Taylor (RIP Dick Butkus, actor who played Ed Klawicki: 1942-2023) Michael idled outside of the diner, and checked his watch a second time. It was almost ten minutes past the hour. Lisa was running late. Over the years, Michael had begun to realize just how much growing up around Joey had affected his sister. She’d become more artsy over the years as they grew up. Freer with her time and herself. Finally getting a proper job in the medical field had reigned her in a little bit, but now she had a serious girlfriend. Serious enough for Nicole to call her “Aunt Phoebe.” A girlfriend the whole family joked was very Joey-esque. “You and Lisa really are the same person!” Nicole once observed. Phoebe was a painter, an occasional musician, but mostly a barista. But she didn’t care about nor did she want any of the money Lisa earned as a doctor. Phoebe was completely independent. Except, well, they did live together. But Phoebe made decent money and chipped in for half

Chapter Nine: Pillow Talk “It’s sorta nice we don’t have to tiptoe around Nic anymore.” “Uh-huh.” “I mean, we can sleep in the same room and it’s not even a thing.” “Mm-hm.” “Are you even listening to me?” “Sure, Joe.” Michael didn’t look up from his reading. “Then will you quit lookin’ at that crap?” Joey snatched the documents out of Michael’s hands, narrowly avoiding a papercut, and chucked them to the opposite side of the bed. “Hey! That coulda’ been work!” “It wasn’t. It was more of your borderline-paranoid research about H-gene pregnancies. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Mike! I’ve known you way too long. Either way, it’s like eleven-thirty. Can we call it a night already?” “Remember when we used to start our nights at eleven-thirty? We are old, Joe,” Michael sighed. But he ultimately nodded, sliding off his glasses. As he set them on the nightstand, he hesitated, and gestured vaguely to Joey’s side of the bed. “Can I just…I can’t sleep knowing there’s stuff on the

Chapter Eight: Daughters & Daddies Michael may have been at work physically, but his mind was certainly elsewhere. He’d had to reread almost everything anyone had handed him all day, his math was unusually off, and even his normally cold secretary -who would likely have been despondent about his & her return to work- asked if he was feeling alright and offered to get him whatever he needed. Despite her being his secretary, this wasn’t her typical behavior. And for the first time since promising Nicole he’d work less, Michael found himself tempted to ask Karen if she had anything pressing that might require him to stay late. But as five o’clock rolled around, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Joey would rip him a new one. Michael knew if he himself had been fretting all day about talking to Nic, Joey had been just as anxious. He’d probably spent the whole day tearing their loft apart like a neurotic dog. So, instead of trying to find a reason to stay at the office, Michael

Chapter Seven: Show & Tell About a week after the eventful first appointment, Michael stood alone in his bedroom, dressing for the work day. His pants, once again, were coming up a little tight. Michael examined himself in his full-body mirror. He pressed a hand to the middle of his pelvis, where a slight bulge was beginning to form. “You two didn’t waste any time, did you?” He grumbled. “I’m gonna be out of usable pants by the end of the week.” “Problem?” Joey strode into the room. A towel was wrapped around his hips, his hair still dripping from his shower. “Your kids are already taking up space. Not even been three months, and yet…I can already tell they’ve inherited your big head.” “Don’t say mean things about my kids.” Joey appraised Michael’s appearance, “And I think you look cute.” “What will not be cute is when I run out of work slacks.” Michael forced a belt on, regardless, keeping it as loose as humanly possible. It still felt tight. “Yeah, then it’ll be adorable,” Joey

(Takes place in an AU where Michael gives birth to Nicole, back in college, and despite Joey being the other father, Michael doesn’t want the baby. Marcy wants to adopt Nicole, leading to the three people going their separate ways. Marcy wants to be a mother because she has a terminal illness called Tetralogy of Fallot, which makes it unsafe to have a baby. She’s supposed to live until 40 or 50, so Nicole would be an adult.) It was freezing cold, deep into the winter months of New York City. Michael, however, felt none of the cold. He was currently burning up and as damp as if he’d just gotten out of a shower, except he was damp with his own sweat. He was currently in the throes of labor, eeking closer and closer to meeting the baby girl he’d gestated for the past thirty-seven weeks. His baby, Joey’s baby, Marcy’s baby. The baby he absolutely didn’t want. Michael leaned into the wall of the elevator, letting the metal bar dig into his stiff back. They should have left for the

Chapter Five: Double Vision “You’re a twin?” Dr. Abel raised an eyebrow. “Seems like a weird thing to forget, I know!” Michael was bent over, his head between his knees. He wondered if he was going to pass out. That would be a mercy. Dr. Abel patiently passed him a sick bag, which Michael heaved into. When nothing came up, he took to breathing into it, trying to avoid a complete panic attack. “My mother was a twin, and I’m pretty sure her mother was a twin. And finally, there’s me and my sister, the only opposite-sex twins born in the Taylor family. This really does not bode well for me!” Dr. Abel sat nearby on a rolling stool, waiting for Michael to collect himself. “Mr. Taylor, I completely understand where your anxieties are coming from, but if I might try to assure you, monozygotic or even dizygotic embryos, even when they seem to run in the genes, are somewhat unlikely. It’s even rarer, in a XY gestation, that they’d be considered viable.” “In layman's terms?” Michael

Chapter Four: Clinical Stress As promised, Michael made an appointment the next day. But he’d had to wait a week for the actual visit. In the interim, Joey helped Michael throw out every single package of cigarettes he’d hidden around the loft. No more smoking. Never again. He’d gotten Michael’s solemn vow. It was a slightly easier, now that it wasn’t the far-off promise of getting old and seeing grandchildren, but having a healthy baby now. It also helped that he’d never wanted a cigarette less in his life. The smell alone made Michael want to projectile vomit like Linda Blair. “I’m so proud of you, babe,” Joey said, once all of the cigarette boxes had been chucked in the dumpster. Some needy homeless person would be very happy. Michael had allowed Joey to accompany him to the doctor’s office, fearing he’d wear a hole in the floor if left at home, but had balked at letting him in the exam room. For this first visit, at least. Michael said he “wanted to be alone with his thoughts”

Chapter Three: Pregnant Pause Michael was still being held by the collar. “Don’t…don’t maim me. Or the sweater; it’s my favorite.” The other man lowered his hands, his once furious face now a mask of bewilderment. “…what?” “It’s mine, Joe. In my defense, I thought I buried it deep at the bottom of the bathroom trash! Wait, why the hell were you digging in our trash can?” “I dropped my comb in there.” “Did you at least wash it before use?” “It’s a comb, Michael. Of course not.” “We are all going to get a disease from you someday, you know that? That’s how everyone in this household will die, from The Joey Plague. A plague so sudden and notorious, it gets named after you!” he moaned in disgust. Joey didn’t respond. It seemed to have finally dawned on him what Michael was implying. Michael finally glanced up to see an expression of pure shock staring hollowly back at him. “Joe? Are you broken? Should I dig out your manual?” “Michael, do you mean…you’re…?” His mouth refused to form the