Male Mpreg Novels & Stories

Eight years married, and my wife? She asked for a divorce 99 times. I thought it was just her usual drama—testing me. Then I found out she'd been wiring half a million every year to some dude. Always with the same note: ILU. When she hit me with divorce number 100, I finally signed. I pulled my money out of her little passion project and ghosted—moved my company overseas, wiped my tracks clean. Now she's out there losing her mind, trying to find me.

I'm on my way to get married when a truck slams into my car from behind. After being unconscious for a long time, I hear the doctor telling my fiancee that I might lose my memory. I decide to have a little fun and open my eyes, pretending to be confused. "Who are you?" My fiancee goes completely still. I'm about to admit I'm only teasing her, but before I can, she grabs my best man's hand without a second thought. "I'm Janice Lloyd, your best friend's fiancee. You got into a car accident on your way to our wedding."

The day before our wedding, I received an expensive suit from my wife. Not long after, her young lover called me, his voice trembling. "I'm sorry. It was my fault. My bad for mixing up your size. Please… please don't blame Sylvie." On the other end, I could hear Sylvie soothing him gently, patiently, until he calmed down. I stared at the plane ticket in my hand—a one-way trip out of the country—and calmly asked her for a divorce. Then, as if I no longer mattered, she left me with a single, cold sentence. "Just don't regret it."

On New Year’s Eve, my fiancee, Delilah Carrington, left me to freeze to death in subzero snow. As my body went numb, she was wrapped in the military coat I had found for her, curled up in Everett Kingsley’s arms while eating the holiday groceries I had paid for. When I opened my eyes again, I was back before everything fell apart. So when she called—cold, demanding, rattling off a shopping list like I owed her—I hung up, blocked her number, and made my move. I sealed off Blackridge Logistics Hub, the largest logistics hub in the country. Stockpiling supplies? Pointless. Because my coworkers and I had more packages than we could ever open: seafood delicacies, premium cigars, top-shelf liquor, and industrial generators. Hundreds of millions of shipments meant for the holidays were now all mine. Inside a warehouse kept at a steady 26°C, I ate wagyu steak and watched the world collapse through surveillance feeds. I witnessed Delilah’s entire family tear each other apart over half a moldy pack of crackers. I thought I could live like this forever. I was wrong. In the apocalypse, the most dangerous thing isn’t what’s waiting outside. It’s the people who refuse to stop playing the hero.

My wife, who had always despised lugging around keys, ditched our modern smart lock for a clunky old-school key version. She even bolted it shut during showers. Every time I returned from work, I'd have to ring her up first. Fed up, I slapped the divorce agreement on the table during a family get-together. Everyone assumed I was drunk and joking. My wife hauled off and cracked me across the face. "Am I asking too much? You promised you'd indulge me forever." I met her glare with icy indifference and let out a bitter scoff. "Aren't I divorcing you and never returning the ultimate indulgence?"

My younger brother had stage four kidney cancer. Our parents demanded that I donate a kidney to save him. I told them I only had one kidney left. The transplant would kill me. Instead of listening to me, they forcibly strapped me to the operating table. “It’s just one kidney! Stop being so selfish!” they yelled. They did not care that I was telling the truth. Years ago, I had given my other kidney to save my father after his car crash.

My girlfriend is an heiress from the upper class of Jetland, and she is worth tens of billions of dollars. In order to test me, she has never spent a single cent on me, nor given me any presents during the seven years that we have been together. She even splits the bill with me when we buy rubbers. After my mother falls severely ill, I borrow all the money that I can from all my family and friends. I only need two thousand dollars more to afford my mother's operation. However, even when I beg my girlfriend to lend me money, she refuses. After my mother passes away, I take care of everything on my own. When I go home to pack my things, I accidentally come across a list of presents that she has bought for our neighbor, whom she treats like a younger brother. These gifts include a luxury villa, a designer watch, and haute couture suits. There is also an audio recording of her conversation with her best friend. "Tessie, I heard that Ethan begged you so he could borrow two thousand dollars from you. Is that true?" Tessa Seinfeld snorts, and her voice rings out carelessly. "Zeke's right. Only a leech would go down on his knees just for two thousand dollars. We've only been together for seven years, and he's already so eager to get money out of me." In the end, our seven years of relationship mean nothing. It only takes a provocative comment from her neighbor, Zeke Palmer, for everything to fall apart. But it doesn't matter. From the moment my mother died, I have already decided to leave Tessa.

Elaine Foster loved to test my love for her. She faked a chronic illness and convinced me to donate blood for her 99 times. When it came for the 100th time, I was already severely anemic. I finally said no. She turned around and used the blood I had given her to make blood sausages for Karl Claflin’s dog. Karl was the most popular guy on campus. Curled up in Karl’s arms, she said to me, “Michael Messner, I was never sick. I only pretended to be, just to see if you really loved me. Unfortunately, you failed the final test. I’m very disappointed. We are done.” I smiled indifferently and walked away without looking back. Five years later, we met again at the top hospital in the country. By then, neither Elaine nor Karl knew that they both had malignant gliomas growing in their brains. I had become the only neurosurgeon in the country capable of successfully removing them. When she saw me in plain clothes, wiping vomit off the hospital floor, she had assumed I was a janitor. She sneered, “Michael, you’d really stoop to anything to run into me, wouldn’t you? You even followed me here. It’s time you faced reality. I’m worth millions now, and you are just a janitor. We are worlds apart. Stop embarrassing yourself.” I did not bother answering. At that moment, I was only thinking about which nurse I would need to speak to for slacking off on the job. Luckily, I had just finished surgery and was going home when I spotted the patient in distress. Otherwise, the patient could have been in serious danger.

In my previous life, my parents made me choose a bride from the three most powerful families in the capital. I did not hesitate. I chose the one I loved most: Holly Smith. However, on our wedding day, she died in a car accident on her way to the hotel. The Smith family was devastated. Though they did not dare blame my family, I was consumed with guilt. I transferred all my assets and shares to them without hesitation. Twenty years later, while on a business trip overseas, I saw Holly, alive, locked in a passionate kiss with my former best man on the street. The other two heiresses stood nearby, watching with envy. "Faking your death for twenty years just to end up with your true love? Worth it," one of them said. "And Hayden, that pathetic lapdog, stayed faithful to you all this time. What a joke." I lost control and rushed over to confront them, but Holly had people waiting. They dragged me into a pickup truck and beat me half to death. With a twisted smile, she sneered, "You've got some nerve showing up here. "You wanted me so badly back then that you had Jack beaten, he almost lost his memory and forgot about me! "Since you came all this way, I'll make sure you experience what it feels like to wish you were dead." When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my parents asked me to choose my bride. I pointed to the maid's daughter standing in the corner. "I'll take her."

After three years of marriage, I believed I had the perfect family. My wife, Sarah, was gentle and caring, and our son was bright and adorable. On a rare day when I finished work early, I arrived home to find Sarah asleep, slumped tiredly by the crib. My heart went out to her, and I decided to carry her to our bedroom. As I approached, Sarah's phone screen suddenly lit up. A message appeared: “Sarah, is our son asleep?"