chapter 1

I absentmindedly scratched the side of my belly with one hand while holding a sack of doughnuts with the other. It had been over an hour since the start of the race, so Christy would soon be completing her 15K and crossing the nearby finish line.

It seemed like only yesterday I was meeting her at a race much like this one. It was early in the race and I was just ramping up my speed when I saw her a little ahead of me. While she was by no means fat, she certainly wasn't the skinniest runner that day. I unconsciously licked my lips a little at the sight of her lusciously rounded rump undulating up and down, a slight jiggling noticeable through her spandex.

"Nice morning, huh?" I said I drew abreast of her.

"Yeah, at least it's not too hot," she panted, glancing over at me.

I knew she was probably checking out my trim form that had been honed by dozens of these races. My slim but muscular legs effortlessly chewed up ground, my pert butt was rounded but firm, my toned abs showed beneath a sports bra that did everything it could with my modest B cup breasts.

We started chatting and I kept pace with her the rest of the way, not even caring that I finished far off my best time. That meeting led to coffee, which led to a dinner date, which led to a weekend in Vermont and then meeting her family and moving in together and getting married and now . . .

I shifted my weight and groaned softly as my back complained. It was actually the result of another race that led to my current predicament. I somewhat moodily reflected on that day as I dug out another doughnut and chomped away at it.

We had been married for nearly two years and we both wanted kids. However, there was some debate about who should carry them. Neither of us really wanted to watch our body balloon as a person grew inside of it. Finally, we decided that it would be appropriate to race for it.

There was a little 5K coming up and we agreed that whoever came in 2nd out of the two of us would be the one to carry our child. The night before one of our friends had a big get-together downtown to celebrate their 30th birthday. I let my guard down and ended up drinking several pints of beer more than I should have. The heaviness in my gut when I woke the next morning also reminded me that I plowed through some greasy bar fare as well.

Feeling rather woozy and fighting a dull headache, I chugged a coffee and some water and ate a banana to get ready for the race.

When we all took off I lost Christy in the crowd, but I pushed myself to get off to a good start and hopefully leave her far behind. Even with a queasy stomach I managed to hold a steady pace and with less than a mile to go, I thought I was in pretty good shape and started to imagine Christy waddling around with a huge baby belly.

However, my fantasies came to a screeching halt as my wife sprinted past me in her pink and green outfit. I immediately put it into a higher gear to overtake her, but my legs started to feel sluggish and leaden. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't close the gap and she crossed the finish line almost 30 seconds before me.

"You fight dirty," I grunted at her through gritted teeth.

"Oh Beth," she grinned. "You know I beat you fairly."

I knew. I had no one to blame but myself.

"Can I tell you something?" she asked.

"What?"

She leaned forward to whisper in my ear. "I'm actually really excited to see that baby stretch out your belly. You're going to be such a cute little waddling mommy."

Eight months later, seven after my insemination, I stood here waiting for my wife to finish her run while looking and feeling like a bloated elephant.

At least everyone was healthy so far. I was spared morning sickness, but it seemed the day after I tested positive I was suddenly overcome with an insatiable hunger. My stomach turned into a literal black hole. I turned from a fit woman who lived on salads and lean meats into an out-of-control preggo who binged on carbs and made frequent stops at all our local fast food establishments.

Other women told me how lucky I was to not spend the first few months puking my brains out, but they shut up quick when I told them I gained over forty pounds in my first six months.

Christy accompanied me of course to all my appointments and I was pretty sure most of the reason was just so she could watch my public humiliation as I stepped onto the scale. Her smirk was more infuriating each time as the number continued to climb at a terrifying pace.

Now I watched her approach the finish line and was reminded again of the drastic difference between us now. On our wedding day, even though we were both quite active, it was clear that I was the fitter and trimmer of the two. Christy always had a tough time losing those last 10 pounds while it seemed that my body just naturally repelled fat.

Since I got pregnant, however, Christy had really taken her workouts to a new level. Now she was the definition of sculpted and could easily pose for the cover of a fitness magazine. Her pudge had melted away into toned abs and lats, her legs and arms had incredible definition, and she certainly turned heads any time she wore yoga pants.

I swallowed the last bite of my last doughnut and waddled off to meet her, my thickened thighs rubbing together with each step.

"Congrats babe, great time," I said as I approached.

"Thanks," she panted, taking a swig of water. "That hill on mile 6 was a bitch."

"Oh yeah, I remember that one," I chuckled.

"So did you have enough food to get you through the wait?" Christy asked with a giggle, wiping away some cinnamon sugar from the corner of my mouth.

I blushed brightly. "Yes, I had plenty to eat."

And then my stomach gurgled.

"Shush you," I growled, blushing even harder. "Maybe I could manage a stop for breakfast on the way home."

"After that run, I might be able to eat as much as you," Christy teased.

"You can shut up too," I told her as we made our way to the car.