Fall & Winter Drabble Meme: Mpreg Edition
Hello all! In an effort to keep this comm going, it's about time for a drabble meme. Show us what you got! Prompt away, fill to your heart's content. If you haven't filled a prompt before, try it out! We are all here to encourage your imagination. ;)
Now, let the prompting & filling begin! This drabble meme is all about mpreg! You can post other ( Read more... )
Now, let the prompting & filling begin! This drabble meme is all about mpreg! You can post other ( Read more... )
Dean Smith needn’t have worked a day in his life. As an Omega, as soon as he chose to have children, the government would provide for his needs, since Omegas were the hope of the future. Anymore, most people had no children, and almost no family had more than two--unless one of the parents was an Omega.
The smallest birth group recorded to an Omega parent was five, and the highest--so far--was seventeen, but with ever improving Omega care, it was anticipated that the first successful birth to surpass twenty could happen at any time.
Even with assistance, most Omegas only gave birth a few times. It was very taxing on the body, and returning to work afterward was almost unheard of because Omega parents bonded deeply with their children, and it just felt wrong to most of them to even think of leaving their children’s care completely in the hands of a stranger or strangers.
Dean had been told practically his whole life that there would come a day when he would “feel the urge to settle down,” but it just hadn’t happened. He strove to be the best he could at everything he did, but it seemed like no matter what he achieved, he wouldn’t be considered a success until he got pregnant. It was infuriating.
Well, until Sam Wesson came along, that was.
They’d been planning a big, fancy wedding when Dean found out Sam had knocked him up a little ahead of schedule. They settled for a civil ceremony until after the birth, since there was no telling how much a suit might have to be altered if they tried to go ahead with the original timetable.
Dean was really afraid he was going to miss his job, so he decided he would work as long as possible, and Sam was nothing but supportive.
In fact, Sam insisted that Dean stop his crazy fad diets immediately, and who was he to argue? He hadn’t indulged in so very long, that he was almost convinced the rich food was the cause of going up three pants sizes in as many weeks. Except that he eased off a little on the sweets and still looked like he’d swallowed a watermelon two months after the positive test.
Sandover granted Dean the earliest maternity leave in company history at only sixteen weeks because Dean could no longer fit in a car to come to work, and his doctors were advising bedrest anyway, for the sake of his back. Sam and Dean had agreed to be surprised by the size of their brood, and the doctors weren’t certain they could pin down an exact number from the crowded scans anyway.
Sam had scarcely let news of the pregnancy pass his lips in IT before there was a pool going for number of babies, lowest, highest, and average birth weights, birth date, and number of each gender. People were allowed to change their wagers up until the happy event, so Sam was pestered for info every day.
Technically, he didn’t have to keep working either, and he kind of hated IT, but it seemed like walking around at work was the only exercise he had time for anymore. Dean needed to eat a lot to sustain himself and “the brood,” and he didn’t like to eat alone, so Sam happily joined him, and it showed.
He arched his back as he prepared to take a seat at his cubicle and realized he hadn’t seen his feet while standing in some time. In fact, if he didn’t know better, he’d almost think he had a baby ready to make an appearance any day now, too! He rubbed his substantial empathy gut, which growled at him, so he appeased it with a few energy bars. He settled into his chair that groaned in protest, and his coworkers arrived like clockwork. They were especially rabid on Mondays.
“Any new pictures?”
“How far along do they think your hubby is again?”
“I heard a rumor you guys had to take out a wall in the apartment to make the bedroom bigger--is that true?”
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On the way home, Sam picked up several buckets of fried chicken and some sides because Dean had a craving, and their government appointed chef’s chicken just wasn’t the same as the local fast food chain.
“How is everyone?” he asked cheerily as he entered the bedroom.
“Starving!” Dean declared. “Did you get chicken?” He couldn’t see Sam unless he walked around the belly.
“Yes. I’ll be there in a sec, just want to say ‘hi’ to our babies.” He set the food down and stepped forward to hug as much of Dean’s huge bump as he could. His arms couldn’t hope to encompass the whole thing, and his own belly got in the way a bit. He picked up the bags again and eased along the wall, squeezing past the jam-packed womb and giggling as he felt kicks to his own belly. “If you don’t pop soon, Dean, we’ll have to remodel again.”
Dean grinned as his husband finally came into view. “Pretty sure I’ll pop soon one way or another. My skin feels really tight lately. Now feed me!”
He “popped” three days later and busted the previous record with twenty-three healthy babies.
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