thestarryeyedadmirer

[thestarryeyedadmirer]

C2 Shawn Mendes

Shawn Mendes, C2: Time to Push

Shawn's on his yoga ball in the corner, bobbing up and down as though he's trying to bounce himself to the moon. With his back turned to me, I can only watch as he works through another contraction — staring at his back muscles through the opening of his hospital gown and listening to his desperate moans from the other side of the room.

He doesn't want my help anymore... says I'm not doing anything to relieve his pain, or make him feel any better. This labor has been tough for him. I... I can't even imagine how he feels. I tried everything I could to keep him in a good headspace... to focus his mind, and keep myself from freaking out too. I put cool towels on his feet, drew a warm bath for him, held his hands and guided him through his meditative breathing exercises, massaged his lower back and belly, and even sung him a couple of his favorite songs... but, I guess it wasn't much help. He's too far along... and I'm nervous.

"How you doing, babe?" I ask anxiously, trying to break the tension... hoping that the sound of my voice won't piss him off, and that the sound of his can calm me. "How do you feel?"

He keeps bouncing, ignoring me, and I can't blame him. I would've probably put a bullet in my brain by now if I was in half the amount of pain that he's in. He said earlier that he felt like his pelvic bone was cracking in half... and, from that description alone, I'm surprised that he hasn't tried to jump out of the window yet.

   "How do I feel?" He whips his head around, staring at me with deadly laser eyes. If looks could kill, I'd be a dead man.

“Did you really just ask me how I feel? Seriously?"

His bouncing stops, the veins in his forehead bulging like blue bolts of lightning underneath his skin. "I feel like I'm gonna explode right now, you asshole!"

I see his clenched fists, hidden between his thighs, and immediately lower my head in concession. If he wasn't so far away from me, he'd have already thrown a punch my way... and I wouldn't even have the right to be upset about it.

"My hips are throbbing... and on fire... and being electrocuted, all at once! My head is pounding! I’m hot! I'm cold! I'm covered in sweat, and my belly weighs a million pounds!"

I wish that I hadn't opened my mouth at all. If I knew that I was going to set him off this way, I would've just sat in silence and let him work through the pain on his own, like he told me to.

He's at his boiling point, getting louder and louder with every word. "I'm in so much fucking pain! And, worst of all, I have to take a shit! Bad! And it won't come out! I swear, it's... it's nearly there!"

"Do... do you want me to help you get to the toilet?" I stutter, afraid to speak anymore.

The nurse said that feeling constipated at a time like this was normal… that it’s an indicator of the baby’s position in the birth canal… but I don’t want to make Shawn any more upset by repeating it. The last thing he needs to feel right now is invalidated… so I shut my mouth — again, wishing I’d never opened it.

   "No! No! Just... stay over there! You've done enough already! Don't talk to me any—"

Just as quickly as it began, his enraged ranting turns to silence as another strong contraction washes over him... but, this time, something is different. His fingernails grip at his thighs, digging into them... and his toes scrape at the linoleum floors as though they're trying to take root.

"Fuck!" He cries out, his voice hoarse. "Something... something's wrong! Call a nurse! Call... call somebody!"

[thestarryeyedadmirer]

I have one for your bingo: C3, Finn Wolfhard, I hope you like it

Finn Wolfhard, C3: Huge Belly:

   Every school has its scandals. Each year, something major happens — a faculty member makes a huge mistake, a parent embarrasses themselves on school grounds, or a student does something that goes down in history. This year, that student is Finn. Finn... something.

I can't remember his last name... but I know what he looks like. After sitting in front of him in Algebra II for an entire academic year, I don't think I could ever forget what he looks like. He has long, dark, curly hair that falls halfway down his neck. He's got a prominent nose, bushy eyebrows, a square jaw, and a wide smile too... like a mad scientist out of a Saturday morning cartoon. His eyes are dark — warm, but still a little off-putting — and he's as skinny as a twig... or, he used to be.

He left school last year, a few months before summer, and nobody knew why. One day, he was there... the next, he wasn't. He wasn't popular or anything... not popular enough for anyone to really care that he was gone... but his name made the rounds after he vanished.

   Rumors about his disappearance were all over the place. Some people said that he got kidnapped, and taken to another state. Some said he caught a contagious disease, and was being forced to quarantine. Some said he'd simply moved away... but his family's car stayed outside of his house for months, and his mom made trips to the grocery store pretty often.

   Personally, I believed the disease theory — that he'd caught some terrible, contagious illness, and had to sequester himself in his house. The last memory I had of him before he left was the time I watched him hurl his guts into a small trash bin in the corner of the classroom, doubled over in agony while the teacher continued with the lesson. From what I saw... what I heard, and smelled... he was pretty sick. Deathly, even.

Despite all the theories surrounding his reason for leaving school, nobody really cared enough to contact him and find out the truth. I mean, I had a few classes with him... but, to me, he was just a seat-filler — a kid who I'd see every few periods, but never felt compelled to talk to. He was just... there... until he got sick... and then, he was gone.

 

   It wasn't until the beginning of this year that everyone at school found out the real reason that he left — he's pregnant... like, extremely, massively pregnant.

   If someone... anyone... at school would've made an effort to get in contact with him or his family before the summer, we all would've known about the baby much, much sooner. We could've had enough time to prepare for his return... been able to process the news, and dampen our reactions... but we didn't. Now that Finn is back, the hallways are buzzing again... and no one is holding back.

  

   We're halfway through the second nine weeks... and Finn is eight months along, with a belly bigger than the inflatable beach-balls in the gym. I have a history class with him this year... and, seeing him now is kinda crazy.

   He's still as skinny as ever... sporting his same old rubber-hose arms, toothpick legs, and a giraffe neck... but his face has filled out so much. His cheeks are all puffy, his lips look swollen, and his nose looks like a clown's... and, below it all, his gigantic stomach takes up so much room. None of his clothes fit over it anymore either, so it's always hanging out... warning people not to get too close to it.

Moving through the hallways is like navigating a traffic jam whenever he's around. Everyone clears a path for him, ducking behind corners and smushing themselves against their lockers, so he doesn't knock into them as he waddles to his next class... and then they file into a huge crowd behind him, blocking the way for all the folks who have somewhere to be.

   He gets followed and laughed at, and people shout horrible things at him. His old bullies haven't eased up on him either... and if a baby can't stop them, I don't know what can.

Since our first day back, I can't even try and count the amount of times he's come to class with his hair wet, soaked from being dunked into toilet bowls. He constantly reeks of cafeteria garbage, his clothes are almost always smeared with trash sludge and dirt, there are handprints and hickies all over his stomach, and the door to his locker is warped into the shape of his baby bump — like some sort of belly-cast.

His locker wouldn't be such in eye sore if his bellybutton wasn't so weird. He has the strangest bellybutton I've ever seen. It's an outie that looks like a doorknob. It's red, and fuzzy, and it's shaped like a big, bulbous swirl. Every time he walks into the classroom, it just... stares at me, all creepily. It brushed against my ear once, and I nearly threw up. Seeing its bulgy outline on his locker makes my skin crawl.

  After last year, I didn't think that things could go any further downhill for him... especially now that he's having a baby... but they have. Finn used to be a nobody... but now he's fallen even lower on the social scale, and become something far worse — a massive inconvenience.

  Because of him, I've been late to class more times than I can count... and I know that he's only gonna get bigger before he finally pops. This is only the beginning.

   Even still, the mystery remains — who’s the father? Who did this to him?

[thestarryeyedadmirer]

This post on Matt & Abby’s TikTok has got my mind racing!!! I’m gonna touch on some serious stuff regarding their online presence, so scroll away if you want to. This is just my opinion and subsequent fantasy, following what I’ve seen online. I’m NOT saying that this is the case. It’s just a nice idea to me.

I think that most (if not all) of us have seen the discourse surrounding these two and their marriage. All the people saying that Matt isn’t a good husband or father… that he’s a “man-child”… that he’s “selfish,” and a “narcissist,” and isn’t connected to his wife and kids the way that a father and husband should be. From what I’ve seen, a lot of internet users have made their opinions on him very clear… but, here’s what I’m thinking:

Like every guy out there, Matt has womb-envy… just, a more extreme case than most. He doesn’t feel all that connected to his children because he’s not the one who carried them… and he REALLY wishes that he was the one who carried them. He keeps getting Abby pregnant, not only because he loves her, but because he enjoys pregnancy… even if he’s just a witness to it. Abby being pregnant gives him an excuse to lean into his own fantasy, without being judged. That’s why we get the photos and videos of him with his belly pushed out, all big and round — swollen with imaginary life.

Given the context behind the content (his wife is pregnant, and he’s “poking fun” at her), him behaving that way isn’t weird. Matt has baby-fever, now that his boys are growing up… and REALLY wants to carry his and Abby’s next baby himself — in his own belly — but he can’t. Sure, he’s immature, but he’s in his mid-twenties… and he acts the way he does (partially) because there’s a hole deep inside him, and experiencing a pregnancy of his own is the only thing that can fill that void… albeit temporarily.

Link to @paternitybellies original post

[thestarryeyedadmirer]

MATT!!! AH!!! I NEEDED THIS SO BAD!!!🤩🤩🤩

[thestarryeyedadmirer]

Mpreg Bingo: C5 Grayson and Ethan Dolan at the same time

The Dolan Twins, C5: Birth

Ethan and Grayson both hunkered down in the back seat as the car sped ahead. Their bare asses clenching shut atop several layers of towels, feet propped up on the shoulders of the front seats, hands gripping the safety bars above the doors, and shoulders huddled together, they were bracing themselves for the inevitable. After ten long months of pregnancy, their babies were finally ready to come out and face the world... and they were coming fast.

   We were already on our way to the hospital when the twins' contractions reach their peak. Pushing upwards of 80 miles an hour on a 45-limit road, Ethan, Grayson, and I were preparing ourselves for the horror show to come. We thought that we could make it there before popped... but, after only ten minutes on the road, their babies were already crowning.

   "Holy shit, is that a head?" One of them yelled to the other, their voice scratchy and hoarse. "Dude! Are you pushing right now?"

   In the moment, I couldn't tell which one of them was screaming. My eyes fixed on the road ahead of me — plotting the ways that I would have to weave through traffic — I was far too concentrated to break my focus and check my rear view mirror, to see who was saying what."That's... that's hair, dude! I see hair!"

"What?" I yelped, a rush of panic flooding my body. "A head? Hair? Are you guys pushing already?" I could feel the color leaving my body... sinking to my feet, like one of those old-timy cartoons. Suddenly, I was pale as a ghost. My heart was on the floor... and it had stopped beating. "Are you giving birth? NOW?"

"Um... yeah." Answered one twin, his words shaky and cracked. "He's... uh... he's pushing. It's... it’s pretty bad." He could hardly catch his breath before he screamed again. "I... I think I'm starting too! The baby's coming! I... I can't stop it! AGGHHH!"

Before I knew it, they were both wailing at the tops of their lungs, like a couple of tortured animals. Their cries were the most guttural, primal, inhuman sounds that I'd ever heard anyone make — the horrible sounds of natural, unmedicated, unplanned birth.

   All at once, my tunnel vision went away, and the car started to lose speed. Drivers in the other lanes caught up to me, and quickly passed by. Traffic lights and street signs, which looked like red and green blurs before, slowly became legible. The little hand on my speedometer ticked farther and farther to the left, until it was touching the zero. Before I knew it, I was pulled over on a random neighborhood street... totally beside myself.

My focus shifted off the road, and onto the twins... and my awareness grew. Though I didn't move, it was like my entire body had been turned completely around... like, somehow, I was facing them... looking at them. Eyes in the back of my head. Physically, I could feel it.

I could see two feet in my peripheral vision, from both sides. They were Grayson's... up by my head.

   His arches were swollen, full of fluid... his skin was flushed red... and his toes were so tightly curled that their nails were digging into his soles.

"AAGGGHHH!!! That's the head! That's definitely the head!" Ethan shrieked. "It's literally out of you, Grayson. Her head is out!"

I turned around, nearly breaking my own neck as I wrapped my torso around the side of the driver's seat. "Holy fuck!"

The sight was a gruesome one. The twins were already well into the process of pushing, holding hands as they worked to birth their babies. It was happening... full-force.

   They were laid back against their seats, so tense that their spines were smushed into the cushions. They'd gotten rid of their pants, underwear, shoes, and socks... and the bottoms of their shirts were pulled behind their shoulders. Their legs were in the air, spread far and wide, and their massive bellies looked almost alien — swelling and pulsing with strange muscle movements. Between their legs was a bloody, sticky mess, soaked into the towels beneath them. Grayson's daughter — the first of a pair of twins — was hanging headfirst from his hips, her shoulders making their way out... and, on the right side of the car, Ethan's son wasn't too far behind his cousin.

   I could see the babies' hair... dark and curly, just like their fathers'. I could see their little ears, and their noses, and their puffy eyes.

   It was... beautiful.

   

   "Oh my god!" I screamed, adding to the deafening noise within the cabin of my car. I was at such a loss for words, too overwhelmed to think of what to say. Instinct told me to extend my hands, and catch the baby that would fall first... so I did.

   "You're almost there." I murmured, my open palms hanging in the air beneath Grayson's butt. "I see her shoulders, Gray. Her... chest is halfway out. Keep going."

The moments the followed became a blur to me... just like all of the street signs that we'd passed. I must've blacked out, or been too focused on catching the baby... because, the next thing I knew, I was holding her.

"Holy fuck."

  

   I could've sat there forever, holding her. Her little cries silenced our worried wailing. Her voice... was like music. Her hair... her slick skin... her little hands and feet... ten fingers, ten toes... all of it was perfect. Everything about her.

"Give her to me." Grayson mumbled between gasps, trying desperately to catch his breath. "I wanna hold her." The look in his eyes was spacey... so far off, and tired. The look of a new father. The way he was staring, it was almost like he wasn't even there... but his voice sounded so present, despite his exhaustion. "Help Ethan."

Carefully, I handed Grayson his daughter, watching as she sank into his chest. They looked so much alike, even in her first moments.

With a simple pat on the knee — a quiet congratulations to Grayson — I let them settle down and turned to Ethan, reaching out to catch his son.

   "Shit!" To my surprise, Ethan's baby was already halfway out, hanging by his knees. He’d been pushing so quietly... biting down on his bottom lip, and breathing steadily... and I didn't notice how quickly he'd gotten through it on his own. "Ethan! He's... he's almost here!"

   Aside from the lower portion of his legs, the baby was free. I figured that it was alright to pull him the rest of the way out... so I did, as gently as I could without dropping him.

Just like his cousin — the beautiful baby girl resting in Grayson's arms — Ethan's baby boy was perfect. He had dark, curly hair... the puffiest little cheeks I'd ever seen... a pointed chin, just like his dad... ten fingers, and ten toes.

   The umbilical cord was wrapped around his ankle, loosely enough for me to unwind it without hurting him.

   I took a moment to stare... to examine his features more closely, and take them in... then handed him to Ethan.

"He's perfect." I smiled, my eyes darting back and forth between the twins — one no longer pregnant, and one biding the time until the arrival of his second daughter. "They both are."

   The minutes ticked on as we waited for Grayson's second daughter to arrive. After five, he gave me the okay to keep on driving... after ten, we were getting settled at the hospital... and, after seventeen, baby number two was born — delivered by calm medical professionals.

[thestarryeyedadmirer]

There’s a hole in my heart where a fart video of Ross lynch should be

Honestly, it’s kinda wild that we haven’t gotten at least one of him yet😅. I mean, we’ve got Harry Styles farting on video several times… but no Ross Lynch? In my head, he’s one of those illusive guys… falls into the same category as guys like Felix Mallard and Cameron Monaghan, where they’re so physically attractive, but we hardly ever see them doing normal shit (“normal” by my definition). Like, you’re never gonna see a video in which Felix Mallard farts, or anything like that. It’s just never gonna happen. I feel like, right now, Ross is the same way. I feel like he’s this near-perfect vision of masculinity… and yet we haven’t yet witnessed him do one of the most masculine things a guy can do😂. Just makes you wonder… what are his farts like? How do they sound? How do they smell? How frequently do they happen?

[thestarryeyedadmirer]

Tyler Posey D4

Tyler Posey, D4: Oh Look! A Toilet!

These days, Tyler and I hardly get out. It seems like, the closer we get to his due date, the less we venture out of the house... too afraid of the inevitable happening in some unfamiliar, unprepared place. We don't go out to local restaurants like we used to, or drive down to the waterfront, or take walks around the city anymore. We don't take any time to enjoy ourselves. We just sit in the house... staring blankly at each other, hoping that his mucus plug stays intact.

   I'm tired of rotting in bed all day long. I've been tired of it for weeks now. I'm sick of worrying about what might happen if Tyler and I decide to have even a single day out, just for ourselves... of being imprisoned by irrational fears.

We've got enough time to leave the confines of our bedroom and have new experiences before the baby comes... so, fed up with our isolation, I finally decided to put my foot down and drag him out of the house.

   Of course, it took some... convincing.

   After nearly an hour of the most slow, cautious, unfulfilling sex we've ever had, he and I are finally getting some fresh air, sitting by the lake at the nearby park, people-watching and taking in the scenery.

Although it's not the most exciting outing, spending the afternoon sitting on a bench is a lot more exciting than lazing around in bed.

"Awe, man." Tyler mutters to himself, just loud enough for me to hear. He looks down, peering over his belly as though something is wrong... like he just realized that he accidentally put his shoes on the opposite feet, or forgot to grab a clean pair of socks. His expression isn't serious enough to alarm me — not like I would be if he was hurt, or if his water had just broken — but I can clearly see that something's not right.

He's been so forgetful lately, with his 'pregnancy brain' clouding his thoughts. It's like he's got the memory of a goldfish... a new mind every couple of seconds. He'd do silly things all the time, back when he and I used to go out... like wearing shorts that were too small to fit over his belly, or squeezing himself into pants that would pop open in public... and when he suddenly realized that he'd done something wrong, or forgot to remember something, he'd freak out.

Surely, he's switched his shoes again.

"What's the matter, baby?" I ask, staring down at his sneakers... both on the proper foot, and tied loosely. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, babe." He answers. "I'm good. I just... really gotta piss right now. Like... really bad."

Leaning uncomfortably against the back of the bench, he tries to cross his legs. His belly is so heavy now that he struggles to lift his knee without me pulling on it. It's too big.

"I… uh… didn't forget anything... but it feels like my bladder is gonna burst. Just hit me all of a sudden... and I can't hold it. Little guy's pushing against it real hard."

His hands roll over the curve of his expansive stomach, and tuck themselves underneath the overhanging bump, disappearing from my vision. "It... it hurts."

"Awe, baby. Don't worry. I... I'll find you a bathroom." I look around us, in search of a place for him to relieve himself, but all I see is water, trees, ducks, and strangers. No outhouses or porta-potties in sight. There's a few little shacks around us — a small pavilion to sit under... a covered patio space, where people can gather, grill, and eat... and a handful of picnic tables — but nowhere suitable for him to go.

Finding no options, I turn back to him. "I'm… I’m not seeing any bathrooms, Tyler. But... we can find one on the way back home. Think you can get up and walk? It’s a short trip.”

He shakes his head. "No. I... I can't. I'm... um... all clogged up after we fucked earlier, and my... pipe... needs draining really bad. Thought I could hold it, but I can't. You know how it is." He begins to massage his lower-belly, pushing on his bladder to ease the discomfort. Though I can’t see his hands, the steady movements of his forearms, back and forth, make his efforts obvious. "If I get up now... I'm gonna piss myself."

"Um... okay..." I stammer, trying to come up with a solution on the spot. "I'll find somewhere for you to go." With my head on a swivel, I stand up from the bench and start to pace around. The sound of the lake is suddenly so loud... the small ripples becoming roaring waves, and geese transforming into airplanes. It's overwhelming... but, as I step closer to the water, I get an idea.

   "Tyler... you can just... go in the lake." I tell him, letting my train of thought chug along. "Come on. Get up and come to the edge of the water. Whip it out, pee, and get it over with. I'll stand behind you and make sure nobody sees."

   "What? You want me to… piss in the lake? Isn't that... illegal." Despite his skepticism, he rises to his feet, his hands reappearing underneath his swollen bumb.

   "Probably." I shrug. "But nobody's gonna know. It's not like anyone's gonna come and arrest a pregnant guy for relieving himself, Tyler. We're too close to your due date for them to lock you up."

   He takes a step toward me, shakily planting his foot into the grass, his legs unsteady. "You sure?" He whimpers. "Cuz I don’t want any trouble. Feels like I’m gonna pop.” His knees wobble like those of a newborn horse… threatening to buckle underneath him at the end of each step. They always tremble like this when he has to pee… but usually, when it gets this bad, he only has to make the trip from his side of our bed to the nearest toilet — less than ten paces.

“I’m sure.” I reply. “Stop worrying.” My eyes watching his feet, I extend my forearm, offering him something to grab onto. “The more time you waste thinking about it, the closer you get to pissing yourself. I can’t help you out if that happens.”

With one final stride, he reaches the waterside, and yanks his pants open. There’s the sound of a tiny waterfall… then a sigh of relief.

“Fuck. You’re right.” Eyelids drooping with relief, he stands in a half-squat at the water’s edge, holding himself steady. “It’s all good. This is just what I needed.”

[thestarryeyedadmirer]

The way this clip fucked up my whole viewing experience for Mythical Kitchen’s ‘Last Meals,’ because I wanted so badly for every guest after Seth to have at least one clip of them being absolutely stuffed😂. I mean, look at that tight belly of his! Him sitting that way and exaggerating it doesn’t make it any better😅. After I saw this video, I would go scouring the internet for post-meal bloat clips of guests (like Jake Johnson, Ludwig, Shayne atop, and Damiano David), or mid-feast belly content… but I never found any.

[thestarryeyedadmirer]

This photo drives me absolutely insane🤩! His feet in those translucent leggings… the way you can see the curves of his soles so clearly through the fabric, and the rounded bottoms of his toes. Man, it makes my mouth water🤤. I wish I could’ve had the chance to worship his gorgeous feet through that delicate fabric… to wet them with my spit, feel their warmth on my tongue, and inhale their sweaty stench. His defined arches, flexing in my grip… his gorgeous toes curling around my lips. The soft sounds of his moans… the excitement stirring underneath his pretty pink tutu. What a vision.

[thestarryeyedadmirer]

Here’s the first accompanying piece for the Bingo asks (Shawn Mendes, A7)

[thestarryeyedadmirer]

I think I might start illustrating the prompts you all send me for bingo, along with the stories that I come up with. I’ve got a couple that I really like… and I’m getting that itch…

[thestarryeyedadmirer]

I hope this isn’t too graphic and you don’t have to post it but I have a sexy fantasy about Michael Longfellow. We’re in his bed and in straddling him while he eats some pizzas. There are pizza boxes all around us and most of them are empty. His stomach is stuffed. He’s naked with his cock in a pocket pussy and there’s a vibrator up his ass while he eats so he’s totally stuffed from all ends. I ride him like a horse while he eats, fucks the pussy and gets his prostate stimulated. It’s an overload for him and he’s a moaning mess under me. He’s gassy too and barefoot. His skinny body is so hairy too, and he’s tall enough for his feet to hang off the bed.

Holy hell! That’s so hot! Thanks for sharing! Watching Michael stuff himself and use toys simultaneously sounds like heaven. I can only imagine that voice of his, moaning and whimpering helplessly underneath you, trying to express the overstimulating pleasure in the most primal way possible. I’m assuming that he’s bound somehow?

[thestarryeyedadmirer]

Noah Beck

Either A1 or E7… wanna see either the start or end of the journey for him

Noah Beck, A1: Finding Out

   Up until today, Noah and I had only interacted with one another online.

   Liking posts and sending messages back and forth on Instagram was how we kept in touch. He was a model, using the social media platform to promote himself and connect with local photographers... and I was a photographer. Neither of us were professional.

   Noah's photos were good, and his physical features were unique. Eye-catching.

   Bushy brows and low brow-bones, brown eyes, a perky nose, plump lips, a strong chin. Broad shoulders, a full chest, sculpted abs, a tight butt, god-like feet.

   There was just... just something about him, when I first saw his work. Something about him prompted me to reach out.

   Noah and I started messaging back and forth a few weeks ago. I sent the first DM and, once he got back to me, the conversation came naturally.

Texting him was easy. He was open, honest, and understanding, and he didn't mind sharing his thoughts with me. I quickly learned that he wasn't just a pretty face, like so many of the other aspiring models that I'd interacted with. His head wasn't empty, like the others. Noah had real thoughts... deep feelings... and a true passion for the things that he wanted to do.

It didn't take long for us to plan out a photo shoot at my little studio... something chill and casual.

Today is the day of our scheduled photo-shoot at my studio, and I can hardly contain my excitement. With only a few minutes to spare, I'm setting up my equipment, getting everything ready, so I can capture the stunning shots that Noah and I talked about.

He wants to do something tasteful... something that he said he's seen a million times before, but never lost any respect for. So many of our conversations revolved around the idea of him posing in his boxers, or a pair of sagging jeans, bearing it all and showcasing his natural appeal. He wants to do our shoot shirtless and barefoot, standing in front of a blank, white background... and, seeing the vision, I eagerly agreed to do it that way. Sure, it's been done before, and both of us have had our fair share of similar shoots... but, if a wheel works just fine, why try to re-invent it?

There's a knock at the door..

"Coming!" I chirp, bouncing toward the studio's entryway, nearly bursting with anticipation. "Just a moment." Smiling ear to ear, I wrap my trembling hand around the door handle and pull it open... to find him standing on the other side of the threshold, the same half-cocked grin from his photos greeting me. "Noah! So nice to finally..."

I look him up and down, almost immediately frozen in place at the sight of him. His simple white shirt and light jeans cling tightly to his body. His eyes are just as striking in person as they are in his posts, his chin is just as strong, his shoulders are even more broad than I could've realistically imagined... but, his midsection appears to be... different. Very different.

   "...Finally meet you." I finish, clearing my throat as my gaze lingers on his extremely swollen stomach. "Wow."

I feel my skin getting hot... the sudden rush shock and confusion overwhelming me. Could it be that he's...? There's no way. He's... he's pregnant. Not just a little pregnant, but visibly carrying a substantial bump.

"'Wow?'" He chuckles. "That's... quite a greeting. I... um... I can't say I've ever heard that one before." His cheeks turn a rosy red, his beautiful brown eyes fluttering between my surprised face and the floor.

I didn't expect our first encounter to start out this way... to be so awkward in only the first ten seconds. Talking to him online felt... right... and now, I'm a stuttering mess. Where are my manners?

   "Oh. Um... come on in." I move aside from the doorway, inviting him into my studio. "I... um... I must say, I'm... quite surprised to... to see you."

   "To see me like this, you mean?" He asks me, reading my mind as he steps inside.

"I... I didn't know you were expecting," I stammer, trying to reconcile my expectations with the reality before me.

"I... um... I'm sorry I didn't mention it earlier." Noah sighs. "I'm seven months pregnant... with twins... and I just never found the right moment to bring it up." He gestures toward his massive baby bump, peaking out from underneath his shirt, and my knees go weak. "Surprise! I... I hope we can still create something great... you and I. I... wouldn't be here if I didn't trust your vision."

   "Um... yeah. Nothing has to change."

[thestarryeyedadmirer]

Nobody asked for this… but let’s just say that Kit and Evan did have a twerk-off (as ridiculous as that sounds). How would they perform? Who would win?

•Evan:

First of all, let me start by saying that between Evan and Kit, Evan has the better ass of the two — point, blank, period. Does that mean that he’d win the twerk-off though? I don’t think so. I have no reason to believe that Evan would have any problem showing off his ass (given his filmography), but showing it off and actually moving it are two different things… and I have no evidence to convince me that he knows how to move his butt. He’d look like a fool, shaking his hips without rhythm, and flopping all around. As adorable as it’d be to see, it’s no winning performance. Though he beats Kit in the presentation, it’s the lack of skill that would be his downfall. Evan would lose.

•Kit:

I can confidently say that Kit definitely knows how to move his hips, just from the content that I’ve come across online. I really don’t have much more to say about him, when it comes to this scenario. With all of the fun moments I’ve seen of Kit, when he’s dancing or goofing off, I don’t doubt that he’d dominate Evan in a twerk-off… even if he was just goofing around. He’s got this smoothness about him that can’t be beat.

[thestarryeyedadmirer]

And there it was. Right under our noses the whole time...

[thestarryeyedadmirer]

Deven Hubbard, C3: Huge Belly

   I don't know how many times I'll have to remind Deven how large he's gotten before it finally gets through to him. He doesn't listen to me, no matter how often I point it out... too deep in his denial to realize the truth of his size. Unfortunately, there are some things that he just can't do anymore, now that he's so big with the twins... but Deven's always been stubborn.

   It's the simple things now, that his belly gets in the way of.

   He knocked over an entire carton of orange juice this morning, trying to squeeze by me in the kitchen. I guess he was on his way to reheat his breakfast sandwich in the microwave, or something like that... and, as he was headed toward it, he came behind me and got wedged between my body and the countertop. Of course, he didn't stop to consider an alternative path once he was stuck, and chose to force his way through instead. His hips crushed against mine, his butt smushed me in place, and I was pinned against the countertop. He was so big, I couldn't move to free myself.

   Despite my pained outcries, Deven didn't turn back, or stop to check up on me. He just kept sliding by. That's when his belly rammed into the OJ carton, knocked it down, and swept it across the counter.

   Juice was everywhere. All over the countertop, soaking into his shirt and socks, and pooling onto the floor.

He was pissed when I made him stop what he was doing and clean up his mess — said that it was a mistake, and that I was overreacting... but I know I wasn't.

I'd already told him a dozen times how massive he was getting, but he didn't listen. He told me that it was only bloating... that he was backed up with gas, and that last night's dinner was still sitting on his stomach... but we both knew it was a lame excuse. Bloating alone doesn't make a man look like he swallowed a prize-winning pumpkin... not when he's seven months pregnant with twins. Bloating doesn’t turn a belly into a wreaking ball.

Deven used his stained shirt to wipe the counter down, treating it as a makeshift towel. The XXL tank was more than large enough to handle the spill.

   He was muttering something under his breath... but I couldn't hear what he was saying, and I didn't care to. As long as he was cleaning up his "mistake," I was alright. The last thing I wanted in the kitchen was ants.

It took him no time to dry off the granite top, but the floor... the floor was a different battle.

   I would've cleaned it myself, if he would've let me, but he was convinced he could do it on his own. He gets that way when he's angry... doesn't accept any help, even when he needs it. I knew that he was being stubborn... but I let him have his way, and stood idly by as he struggled to get down on the floor.

It didn't take long for him to give up the effort. He hadn't wiped up a single drop of juice before he threw in the towel... literally. Deven somehow managed to get himself into a low-crouch position on the ground... but his belly was so large, so heavy, that it locked him in place. He couldn't move his hips, and his knees were useless. Suddenly, the belly that he'd spent weeks denying had become his greatest obstacle. He was too huge for his own good.

I wish I could say that it clicked for him in that moment... that he finally realized how much his body has changed... but it didn't register to him at all.

Even now, just hours after I had to help him up from the floor... hours after being trapped under the heft of his own stomach... he denies how large he is.

   I don't know how many times I'll have to tell Deven that he's a blimp before it finally gets through to him... or what it'll take for him to admit that he can no longer do things like he used to... but I hope it's soon. There's not enough time left for us to keep going back and forth about it. The babies will be here before we know it, and he’s got to adjust before it’s too late.

[thestarryeyedadmirer]

From your bingo A7, Shawn Mendes

Shawn Mendes, A7: Lingerie

   Shawn stood in the bathroom doorway, the tiled floor creaking beneath his feet. "You ready, baby?" His voice soft and shaky, I could hear that his nerves were getting the better of him... his weight shifting back and forth in the doorframe. He was anxious... and so was I. "Keep those eyes closed..." he told me, "...until I say so."

   My hands covering my face, I couldn't see what he looked like... but my imagination was running wild. Shawn had finally mustered up the courage the try on the negligee that I’d bought for him, and after waiting so long, I could hardly contain my excitement.

"Oh, I'm so ready." I answered eagerly, nearly bouncing in place as I sat impatiently on our bed. "You're killing me, making me wait like this."

A mental picture had already been long etched into the forefront of my mind — the lacy tan dress hugging his full figure in all the right places... his swollen, leaky chest nearly bursting out of the dark brown bra piece... panties on the verge of ripping in two, his thick thighs and wide hip threatening to tear them right down the middle. It was so his style — flowy and simple, with a sexy flare. Totally Shawn. And yet, he refused to squeeze himself into it... overly self-conscious about the state of his body.

Shawn's footsteps creeped closer, the floors groaning under his weight. Though my eyes were closed, I could see him waddling in my head — bowed legs teetering side to side, counteracting the exaggerated sway of his belly. I could've gotten lost in the image... memories of all of the times that I’d lingered behind him whenever we walked together, just to watch him waddle ahead of me. The slideshow of moments replayed like a movie. Before I knew it, the footsteps stopped, and the heat of his body was against me.

   "Open your eyes," he said with an unsteady smile across his lips, "ta-da." His shaking hands pulled cautiously at mine, uncovering my face. "How... how do I look?"

   I could hear his heart thumping as I looked up at him, like a bass drum beating in his chest. The twisted expression on his face said it all — his deep insecurity was on full display.

   "You look... incredible." I assured him. "Just like I knew you would." My eager hands quickly rose from my sides and clung to his belly, pushing the thin fabric of his negligee aside. "To think you were so worried over... nothing. This piece... it hugs your bump perfectly." With a single kiss to his bulging navel, I punctuated my sentiments, dispelling any doubts that he may have had. "You're beautiful, Shawn. You're beautiful."