Male Mpreg

On the day we decided to get a divorce, I saw Miranda’s account book while I was packing up my stuff. Aside from our daily expenses, Miranda had also set up a scoring sheet for me. Miranda had taken notes of all the things I had done ever since we started dating. Some of them were such miniscule things that even I had forgotten. She took note of them all with a red pen, and she scored them by either awarding me points or deducting them. However, the further down the sheet, the more points were deducted. In the end, I saw Miranda add one line in black ink. [He’s no longer the Henry Jones who used to love me: -100]

On the day of the SAT exam, my girlfriend’s childhood friend, Benedict Casper, forgot his admission ticket at home. She insisted on retrieving it for him, but I begged her not to go. In the end, Benedict missed his final chance for taking the exam and, overwhelmed by despair, he jumped to his death. Years later, my girlfriend, Ella Simpson, and I graduated from Whitmore Institute of Technology, landed high-paying jobs, and built a picture-perfect marriage. But on the anniversary of Benedict’s death, she stabbed me repeatedly, her voice trembling with rage, “You killed him. If I’d gotten his admission ticket, he would’ve never jumped.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the exams. Ella’s frantic voice rang in my ears, “I have to go back, Dominic. I need to get Benedict’s ticket!” This time, I smiled and said, “Go ahead. Be careful on the way.”

My wife, Lindsey Kelsey, suffers from an aversion to intimacy. For ten years of marriage, she pushed me away again and again. Then, on our anniversary, she abandoned me and, in front of the crowd, kissed another man with reckless passion before the two of them walked hand in hand into a luxury hotel. Afterward, Lindsey brazenly declared that a real man should be magnanimous, not petty. Magnanimous? Then I wish them both eternal bliss—may they be bound so tightly they can never break free from one another. Later, I handed Lindsey the divorce papers with a blank expression. I was determined to walk away from her. But Lindsey went mad when she realized she couldn't find me anymore.

In the delivery room, my wife, Ashley Chase, is now fully dilated, but she refuses to go through with the delivery. She insists that I have to agree to accept her betrayal first. "Henry Madden, I want you to swear that you'll treat this baby as if it were your own. Or else, I refuse to give birth today. The baby and I will both die in this delivery room!" The medical staff joins in, trying to convince me that life matters more than anything else—that all Ashley has done is make a mistake, and I should just live with it. Ashley's mother even slaps me when she sees that I haven't agreed yet. "You're just a loser who married into our family! You should feel honored that we're letting you be the father in name. Don't be such an ingrate!" Sneering, I grab the delivery consent form and write the words "do not agree". "Since Ashley is so keen to end both her own life and the life of her love child, I'll let her have her way."

On New Year's Eve, my in-laws, Richard Prescott and Leona Reed, had flown back to have dinner at my place. However, our butler, Rupert Williams, had only prepared two plates of cold lobster rolls even though I had specifically reminded him that Leona was allergic to lobster. Rupert looked at me with his usual stiff expression and said, "Mr. Shaw, I understand that people from your background like to take advantage of situations. Your parents showing up for a free holiday meal doesn't surprise me." He added, "But as Ms. Jaclyn Prescott's most trusted butler, I have a duty to protect the Prescott family assets from being touched by questionable individuals, even if it's just a dinner. That said, I'm not heartless enough to let two elderly people go hungry. "Here are some leftover expired lobster rolls. Your parents can eat them and leave. Ms. Prescott is very busy with work, and I can't have her come home later only to deal with your poor parents." I froze for a moment, then realized he had mistaken Jaclyn's parents for mine. He was deliberately trying to humiliate me like he always did. I was about to explain when Richard and Leona, furious, turned to leave. However, Rupert called for the security guards to block their way. "I can understand that people from rural areas might lack proper manners, but wasting food is still a bad habit. Since the lobster rolls have already been prepared, I insist you finish them before you go."

On my son, William Lewis' birthday, I secretly visit the learning center he studies at in hopes of giving him a surprise. But when I tell the teacher that I'm Will's father, the latter frowns in response. "You say you're Will's father?" I nod, feeling a little displeased. Although my wife, Amelia Garrett, is the one driving William to and from the learning center, there's absolutely no reason for the teacher to doubt me like this. But suddenly, the teacher smiles brightly at me and tells me he'll bring William with him soon. As I watch him walk through the door, I decide to not take this matter to heart. The next thing I know, the teacher reappears with two burly guys flanking him. "That's the one! He intends to kidnap children from my class!"

Once again, my wife, Claire Winters, stabbed me with a silver needle. A reporter tracked me down and asked, "Louis Sterling, wasn't your wife, Claire, one of the winners of the National Inspiration Awards from ten years ago? She won the reward for saving you during the earthquake and ending up paralyzed from the waist down, right?" I stayed quiet for a moment, then nodded. "Louis, we're from a TV station, and we're producing a tenth anniversary special about the earthquake." I rubbed my arm, which was covered in tiny needle marks, and looked her straight in the eye. I replied, "That's fine, but can you keep the cameras discreet? Claire isn't used to being in front of so many lenses." However, I never expected that on the very first day of the live broadcast, I would be dragged onto the trending charts and torn apart online.

One day, I come across a post on the Internet. The original poster keeps boasting about the fact that all three children belonging to his older brother are actually his spawn. "The funniest thing is, there was once when he suspected the origins of his children. So, he got someone to take the children to take a paternity test. "Guess who he ordered? That's right—it's me, his most trusted younger brother! I get to sleep with his wife whenever I want. The money he earns all goes to my sons. This means he's working for me for the rest of his life! "Just the thought of that makes me happy to no end! Ahahaha!" But the thing is, I'm the older brother who's mentioned in the post.

During my vacation, I'm in the middle of a riverside stroll with my wife, Wendy Summer, when I suddenly hear someone screaming. "Please! Save my drowning son!" Before I can regain my senses, Wendy, who's pregnant, quickly pushes the crowd apart and rushes toward the center of the conflict. "I'm a doctor, so I can help save the patient. I'll perform CPR on him right away." As Wendy speaks, she moves to lean over the patient. But that's when I grip her by the wrist tightly. "You're not allowed to save him. If you dare administer CPR to him, we'll get a divorce." Wendy stares at me in shock. "Have you gone nuts? Healing the sick and treating the injured is a doctor's duty! You're a doctor as well, Rowan! How could you say such things?" The onlookers begin admonishing me. "If you don't heal the sick and treat the wounded, then what sort of doctor are you? You're just an unethical bastard!" "I can't believe doctors like you still exist! You have no right to remain as a doctor! I'm going to record your actions and upload the video to the Internet!" I say firmly to Wendy, "We shall not be discussing this matter. If you save him, we'll get a divorce right away!"

After Christmas, I went on a vacation. For the trip back, I failed to get a train ticket with a sleeping berth. Thus, I was tired and mussed when I got home. When I opened the door, someone shoved a bunch of cleaning tools at me. The man sneered at me and commanded, “Hurry up! You need to finish cleaning this place before 6:00 p.m.!” I looked at him and saw that he was wearing my father’s silk pajamas. I took a few steps back to check that yes, this was my family’s two-story mansion. It was my home, but who was this man? And what was this about cleaning? Did the man intend for me to clean? I was the son of the owners of the house! I messaged the family’s group chat and mentioned my mother. The message read, [@Mom, your boytoy is asking me to clean the place up. What gives?]