Brimmingbelly04
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Atypical Choices
🕑 Added 2025-04-25 12:01:12 +0000 UTCThis is something I've been wanting to do for a while. It's based on "Atypical Belly Dance" by Vancefox from DeviantArt but only loosely in name and basic premise. Not all parts will be as long as this one. I'm excited and hope you are too!
Atypical Choices
By
Brimmingbelly04
Inspired By Atypical Belly Dance
By Vancefox of DeviantArt
Images By Fulleclipsehex
Part One: The Dance
“Fuckin’ finally, man!” Dominic, one of the stagehands said through a big cloud of smoke when he saw Sven ponderously approaching. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago! You're on in fifteen!”
“Hello, Dominic. It's good to see you too,” Sven replied with a roll of his eyes.
“You're on in fifteen!” The stagehand repeated as he yanked the club's back door open.
“Heard you the first time…” the thirty-two year old, heavily pregnant stripper sighed as he proceeded through at a slow lumber. “Obviously, that's not happening, but I'll be out as soon as I can,” he promised over his shoulder as he headed for the dressing room.
“Better make it quick, ‘cause Sean's already on his second set and everyone's dying to see you!” Dominic said as he tossed his half finished cig to the ground and followed him in.
“Did Phil already… spill the beans?” Sven asked, somewhat out of breath.
“Don't think so?”
“Then no one knows… I’m here.”
“But Sean…”
“Tell him to do the Ovaltine bit,” he suggested. “It's fuckin' stupid, but it is funny,” he chuckled.
Dominic grunted. “I was in there, and it didn't sound like many people enjoyed it the first time!”
“Well tell him to try again.”
“Damn it, Sven!” He suddenly shouted.
“I know you're not getting pissy with me!” The thirty-two year old huffed as he entered the dressing room. “I'm here as a fuckin’ favor!”
Dominic grunted again. “Phil said you'd say somethin’ like that…”
“I'm sure that… ungrateful prick did!” Sven said as he headed for his locker.
“Told me if you did, to remind you how much he's payin’ you… Said to remind you it's a lot!” The stagehand said, making it a point to heavily emphasize the last two words, just as he'd been specifically instructed to by The Oven's owner.
“It is a lot,” the stripper agreed. “As it fucking should be!” He emphasized as he opened his locker. “I'm due in three days with quints! Huge fuckin’ quints! I gave what was supposed to have been my… last show, last week! So yeah…” he nodded. “He's paying me a lot, but he's… making a hell of a lot more! And you can tell him I… said that!” He finally finished, almost entirely out of breath by then.
“Can I also tell him when you'll be out there?” Dominic questioned a little more delicately.
“As soon as I can!”
This time, it was the stagehand who sighed. A big part of his job was making sure the talent got out on stage on time, no matter what. That being said, he knew better than to push his luck with Sven any further.
Why? Because while being very vague, Phil had put out on every social media platform that tonight, there was going to be a “VERY SPECIAL, ONCE IN A LIFETIME, SURPRISE PERFORMANCE” at The Oven.
Vague as he'd purposely been, the club was packed. The only thing that came close to rivaling its current capacity was the reason everyone was there without even knowing it: Sven’s womb. As such, Dominic couldn’t risk royally pissing the literally big surprise off and having him change his mind.
“Alright… I'll take care of Sean and Phil,” he nodded. “Just please get ready and out there as soon as you can!” He all but begged before quickly departing the dressing room to go inform the affected parties of the delay.
As soon as he had the room to himself, Sven closed his eyes and sighed again. He knew he had to get moving, but allowed himself a moment. He really didn't want to be there, but it was too late to back out now… Not only was he already at The Oven, but per his request/demand, Phil had already deposited his hefty “special appearance fee” in his Venmo account, which he'd already transferred to his checking. As such, tonight was happening.
But before it could, Sven, the stripper, had to “get dressed,” another thing he wasn't looking forward to… After letting out another sigh, he opened his eyes and looked into his locker to see what “outfit” Phil had picked for him.
A big part in making their lucrative agreement was that Phil promised to pick something that would be at least somewhat comfortable, but more importantly, “easy” (relatively speaking) for Sven to work himself into (and out of.) The almost due (but looking and feeling well-beyond) stripper assumed/hoped it would be what he'd work during his previous “final” performance, but when he pulled the hanger from his locker, he saw it wasn't.
Honestly, he shouldn't have been as surprised as he was… As long as he'd been working for Phil, none of the costumes the club owner provided had come close to comfortably fitting him, even when he'd been much, much smaller. The week prior, Sven came as close to being “comfortable” as he'd ever been, but only because Phil had finally caved and had something specially made for his biggest performer to date.
The biggest performer he'd probably ever have the pleasure of gracing his main stage… Huge as the “school boy” costume had been, it was still too small and tight for Sven a week ago. The thirty-two year old had sent several shirt buttons flying across the stage before he was supposed to make his “big reveal,” delighting the packed club's patrons, but pissing off its owner.
No matter how many seats Sven filled, how much money he brought in, or what else he ended up agreeing to, Phil never seemed happy, let alone grateful. The greedy club owner always just wanted more.
The quint-carrying stripper frowned as he held his outfit for the evening off to the side, since holding it in front of him was no longer an option. The costume Phil had selected for him this time, was something Rafael, The Oven's previously biggest dancer had worn back when he'd graced the stage a week overdue with twins.
Sven's career at the most popular preggo strip joint in town, had started just as Rafael's was coming to an end. Back then, the thirty-one year old had thought the young, twin-stuffed twink to have been monstrously pregnant, but now (and for some time prior,) he'd grown to be so much bigger.
So much… So much so, it was only “fitting” that he wear the last costume (the much smaller) Rafael had before he finally popped, some three more days after his last performance.
In what now often felt like a previous life, Sven would've considered putting on such a costume a breeze, as there was hardly anything to it, but not anymore… What it (severely) lacked in coverage, it (more than) made up for in the number of pieces it included, and what they were composed of.
Most of the skimpy costume was made of shiny black latex, which was hard enough to work with under more normal conditions. Sven wished someone else was around to help, but he'd yet to see another dancer meaning everyone was out on the floor, helping to warm the crowd up while Sean performed his second set.
Poor Sean… He was the opening act at a pregnant male strip joint. Yes, The Oven was the most popular one around, but still…
“Just think about the money,” Sven sighed as he pulled off his coat, folded it up and set it in his locker.
With his coat off, it almost looked like he was already in costume. His three-quarter sleeve ringed tee and tight sweatpants made Sven look like he was a baseball player headed for practice. A stupidly pregnant one, but if he threw on a cap and found a bat or glove, he'd be set. If only it could've been that easy…
After hanging his actual costume on the door of his locker, the thirty-two year old set to stripping. He took his shirt off first, revealing the bra he'd specially ordered to support and contain the now giant breasts he had. Once he took off the rest of his street clothes, it took him a good fifteen minutes to work himself into the components of the latex getup, which was longer than he'd spend on stage.
There was one part of the costume Phil failed to provide: shoes. Not that anyone would even look at them, but luckily, the sneakers Sven had worn to the club were black, so at least they'd match. After putting them back on, the quint-carrying stripper grabbed something else from his locker: his ears. Bunny ears…
Ears in hand, Sven waddled over to the nearby full-length mirror and faced it. After setting the ears atop his head, he lowered his hands to his hips, shook his head and sighed. Now his costume was Phil's take on a Playboy Bunny.
The top was nothing but long black sleeves and a white tuxedo collar, completed with a black bowtie and matching white cuffs. The thirty-two year old's massive, lightly hairy breasts and pregnancy were left out on full display.
That's the only reason the costume “fit.” At least Sven wouldn't have to worry about seductively shedding the top during his routine. Everything that mattered most to The Oven's patrons was already out on display.
Beneath his belly, the costume consisted of two separate pieces: an incredibly tight pair of black, assless latex chaps, and a matching thong, both of which had been equally difficult to get on but also didn't require their total removal on stage in order for everyone to see what they wanted.
Thick and muscular to begin with, between his dancing and otherwise having to cart around five large babies, Sven's legs now resembled tree trunks. Also big to begin with, thanks to the crazy amount of hormones he was producing, the stripper's cock and balls had also bloated up quite significantly. It looked like he'd stuffed the thong’s (now super strained) pouch with two grapefruit and a fat Japanese eggplant, but it was all him.
The thirty-two year old didn't think he looked bad. All things considered, most of which were out of his control, he thought he looked pretty good. He knew the crowd was going to go crazy the moment they saw him and hoped their tips would correlate with their excitement, so his last, last performance as a giant preggo would be worth all the effort, some of which (the most important and challenging) he hadn't even put in yet.
After adjusting his bunny ears some, Sven lumbered back to his locker. There was one more thing he needed to put on, not to complete his costume, but rather hide it.
He pulled out what at first looked to be a folded up, sequined blanket meant to cover a king-size bed all the way to the floor. Holding it out to his right, Sven shook the black fabric out, revealing its true form and function.
It was a hooded cape, similar in design to the one Madonna had worn at the Brit Awards when she fell on (off) stage, except for in size… This cape was easily twice as large.
Even though it was heavily sequined so it would sparkle under the stage lights, Phil had specifically ordered the cape to be made in a lightweight material so it would perfectly drape its wearer, hiding yet highlighting all his bountiful curves till the time came for him to make his “big reveal.” Very big in Sven’s case.
He made sure the bow he tied to keep the cape on was loose so he wouldn't suffer the same fate as Madonna when the time came to tear it off. Before pulling up the hood, Sven went back and stood in front of the mirror. He knew Sean was probably dying out there and Phil was about to shit a brick, but he still wasn't ready.
He almost was, but not quite…
Sven worked his right hand out from under the robe and raised it to his head, fully revealing that tit, some of its twin, and much of his belly in the process. Mindful to avoid the headband securing his bunny ears, he fingered his silver locks to liven them up a bit, then carefully pulled the hood up in place.
A strong thump, a kick by the feel of it, up near the “north pole” of his huge belly, right below his huge tits, suddenly grabbed his attention. As he worked his hand back inside it and pulled it closed, Sven looked down (and out) at the sparkly robe, which despite his size, thanks to its own, was draping him just as it'd been designed to.
If he hadn't already had a coronary by then, he imagined Phil silently fuming seated in the back corner booth he always sat in when he wanted to see a performance firsthand. No matter how good his final pregnant performance was all but sure to be, the thirty-two year old knew he'd hear about its delayed start immediately after, and yet he allowed himself one more moment of peace and privacy.
Sven closed his eyes, took in as deep a breath as he could, and held it. He knew he was going to be absolutely beat after performing. Even though it only had to last a contractually agreed upon ten minutes, now, he might as well have agreed to an eternity… Because “fit” and mobile as he somehow still was, performing just as long the week prior had nearly killed him and now, Sven was even bigger and heavier.
“Just think about the money,” he said aloud again as he opened his eyes and took one last look in the mirror before finally heading out of the dressing room for the stage.
***
Unfortunately for him, Sean's second set seemed to be even less appreciated than his first. The fledgling standup comedian thought he was pretty funny, and so did other people, in the right settings…
But since he'd yet to achieve enough success to choose where he performed, Sean was back at The Oven, opening for a pregnant male stripper. Funny as he (and sometimes others) considered him to be, he knew no one was there to see him.
As such, when he finally saw the green light he'd desperately been waiting to come on at the back of the house, he felt a great sense of relief. He genuinely smiled the first time that evening as he held up his mic-free hand.
“I'm sure you'll all be happy to know, I just got my cue to wrap things up,” he told the full house.
Very full. The Oven was standing room only, which again, had nothing to do with Sean.
“You guys have been great,” he continued. “But I know I'm not the reason you're here tonight.”
“No shit, Sherlock!” Someone called out from the back.
“I think you'll all agree the wait was worth it,” the standup continued unfazed. “In continuing to always bring you the hottest, the sexiest, and the biggest pregnant men around, The Oven has quite the treat for you tonight… Last week, he gave what was supposed to have been his final performance, but we managed to change his mind,” Sean smirked.
A murmur suddenly spread through the crowd. A few guys in the front row stood up as everyone fully paid attention to Sean for the first time that night.
Eager as he was to get off stage, the comedian paused for effect before continuing. “It's my pleasure to reintroduce to you, the hottest of the hot, sexiest of sexy, and the biggest of the big. Due in just two days, with quintuplets… Sven!!!”
The lights went out and already, the crowd went wild.
***
I probably should've asked Phil what I'd be dancing to, Sven very belatedly realized as a bright spotlight powered on behind him.
Instantly, he felt its heat on his back as he stood there center stage, facing a stark white screen. He knew on the other side, there was a large black, rather amorphous silhouette of him, thanks to the cape. Sven wasn't even posing and yet he heard some gasps from the crowd.
Even cloaked and facing the audience, his (larger) size was fairly clear.
Music started up, quiet at first, gradually increasing in volume. It sounded classical, which meant Phil had personally selected it. The Oven’s owner had an eclectic taste in music and always picked unexpected pieces, at least to start performances.
While Sven didn't recognize the song, he quickly found the beat. As the volume continued to build, he slowly turned to the left so the audience could see his profile. Even though he still had the cape on, they roared in approval, but of course they did. He was massive, after all.
A few seconds later, the rest of the lights came on. The thirty-two year old took this as his cue to turn and face forward again, completing the move just as the white screen shot up and the classical music transitioned to something more modern and dirty…
“Baby Making” by Jacquees started to play. Sven wasn't super familiar with the song, but knew it wasn't fast, which he appreciated. While the title seemed fitting, it obviously referred to the kind of unintentional “baby making” the stripper had partaken in several months ago, which had led to the kind he was presently participating in. Either way, the song was pretty damn sexy.
Evidently, this version of the song was a remix, because the intro was extended. Sven carefully stepped off the dais he'd been standing on and started heading for the front of the stage. As he did, he made sure to keep his waddle pronounced, which at his size and weight, didn't take any effort.
Once again, the crowd went wild. Though the hood hid most of his face, the thirty-two year old made sure to smile as he scanned the large room. He knew what he was doing… He wanted any guy able to see his grin to think that it was meant especially for him.
“Turn the lights down in the room,” Jacquees sang, the stage lights immediately following his instructions. “Let's get serious…”
“Baby, I'm curious to know, is this real or just for show?” He soulfully asked.
As he did, Sven moved his hands beneath the robe and placed them on the bulging sides of his belly. He slowly rubbed large circles against the cloaked orb as Jacquees sang,
“Only thing that's playin’ in my head is layin’ in your bed…
It's dripping down your legs
Set the room light to red, tonight it's goin’ down…”
Once again, the stage lights followed the vocal cue and turned a dark, sensual red. The song must've been a specially created mix because suddenly, there was a pause in the music. A moment later, heartbeats came from the speakers surrounding the stage.
Fetal heartbeats. Several of them.
The robe’s sequins sparkled ruby red in the dim light as Sven moved his right hand up to the bow and gently grabbed the end. As he felt his adrenaline start to pump, he moved his left hand to that side of his hood and waited.
As Jacquees crooned, “Let's make a baby tonight,” the fecund stripper simultaneously pulled on the ribbon and flung back the hood, freeing the bunny ears, which both promptly popped up, the right one a little more kinked than the left. Sven dropped his arms to his sides, allowing the robe to fall to the floor just as the lights came back up.
For the next several seconds, the music could hardly be heard over the roar of the standing room only crowd. Already lightly panting and sweating, Sven put on another big, bright smile as he placed his hands back on the swollen sides of his now bared, bulging belly.
As much as he didn't like it, he'd made it a point to take excellent care of it, fastidiously rubbing it with creams and lotion every night, in hopes of keeping it looking as perfect as possible. Miraculously, even after all the growing and stretching his belly had done, his efforts had paid off… Aside from some redness towards its lower middle (which actually only added to its appeal,) Sven's huge, hairy belly was a near perfect sphere, bulging out in front of him, shining beautifully under the bright lights aimed at it.
While he was far from thrilled he'd ended up so pregnant (let alone pregnant at all,) the silver-haired stripper had always been an admitted attention whore. From the very first time he'd graced one, Sven loved being onstage and being admired and ogled by the crowd. It always made him feel good, even now, when he also felt huge, hot and already increasingly heavy…
Easy as it was, he couldn't let himself think like that. His first song had basically just started, and he hadn't even made any real moves yet, making it not the time to think about any of the above, or how much his back and feet were already screaming at him.
Still grinning and rubbing his belly, Sven slowly proceeded towards the runway that ran down the middle of the room. Thanks to the cheering crowd, along with another noise, the music was still a little hard to hear. The other noise came from him, but it wasn't his labored breathing, at least not yet…
The other noise was the sound of the latex chaps squeaking in high-pitched protest with each small yet ponderous step forward he took. From the moment Sven put them on, they'd been pasted to him, whereas now, they were cemented. If any hair remained on his thighs, calves and shins when he finally took them off, he'd be shocked.
Even though all he was doing was waddling, the cheers and catcalls from the crowd only continued to increase. Just as The Oven's most preggo dancer to date (and in all likelihood, ever) expected, everyone was loving him.
As he made slow progress down the runway, Sven made it a (challenging) point to aim his belly and breasts from side to side so that everyone got a good look. He also made it a point to keep smiling, especially when he turned around and headed back towards the main stage and recognized a few familiar faces seated at the front tables.
Not to sound like a jerk, but most of the guys who got to The Oven early in order to claim the best seats in the house, weren't lookers. Most of them were anything but, but they were very good tippers, so the waiters and dancers always made it a point to make them feel extra special…
That being said, Sven had only ever asked one of them his name, and that just so happened to be the exception to the rule when it came to looks (and tips,) go figure… All the stripper knew about Avery was his name, the fact he was hot as fuck, and that he was the only one who ever stuffed hundred dollar bills in his thong.
As such, he always made sure Avery very much enjoyed his show. He most definitely planned on doing so again but for now, Sven was getting a little ahead of himself.
When he reached the main stage, he turned around and stood at the foot of the runway, swaying his heavy body to the music as he shook his hair out a little more. Sven had no idea how long this remix was, or what song would play after, so he had no choice but to keep improvising his performance.
Obviously, the audience could see his belly and breasts, but he knew they wanted more. The thirty-two year old slid his hands up and down the sides of his pregnancy, tilted his head back and moaned, even though nobody could hear him do so.
Next, doing his best to stay on beat, Sven waddled across the front of the stage from one side to the other, making sure to keep just out of reach of the appreciative patrons, for now. After a couple of laps across the stage, he went back to the runway and this time, stopped at the pole.
He'd never been much of a pole dancer and wasn't about to start now, but the weight, his weight, was already getting to him. Only a couple minutes into his performance, he was already tired, so he leaned back against the pole for support and stretched his arms over his head, the latex covering his sweaty muscles squeaking in protest as he flexed for the crowd.
There was a flash from the back left corner of the room. Out in the darkness of the tables, Sven could make out the massive form of Matt, one of the bouncers, heading towards the unauthorized photographer. The stripper didn't care about having his picture taken… He knew from searching his name, there were already plenty on the net, but The Oven had rules they at least tried to enforce.
OK, Sven thought as he pushed off the pole. Time for some more rubbing, but not just the belly…
He slid his hands down his shoulders, then his sides, rubbing big circles against them again before sliding them across his hairy, sweaty skin till they met in the middle at his belly button. He made a show of toying with the pinkish protrusion, which had grown to be similar in size and shape to a lemon. The bigger and more prominent it got, the more sensitive Sven's navel had become, so his sensual reaction to his own touch wasn't just for show.
Needless to say, the audience loved it. Several bills were tossed onto the stage and even more were held up and waved about, trying to entice Sven closer.
After a few more seconds spent rubbing his navel, he leaned forward a little as he moved his hands lower. Because of how big his belly was, he had to separate them as they slowly made their way to its underside and then moved from it to the bulges packing his straining thong.
Now it was time to really start making some money…
Sven smiled down and out at the crowd as he cupped and fondled himself. His fat cock started to stir, forcing him to think about things like puppies and kittens, because he didn't want to get hard yet.
A guy at one of the front tables held up two twenties. They weren’t hundreds, but they were a good enough place to start.
Sven knew what he did next wouldn't go with the music, but also that his untimed movements would be appreciated. At least he hoped they'd be because what he was about to do wasn't going to be easy…
The thirty-two year old waddled towards the guy now waving the twenties, and got as close to the edge of the stage as he dared without being able to actually see it thanks to his belly. Several (more) people in the audience stood, as very slowly and awkwardly, Sven got down on his knees.
Probably because the transition was so slow and awkward, the crowd loved it. They loved it even more when Sven placed his hands on the stage behind him and leaned back, thrusting his belly out even further in front of him, along with his bulging crotch.
The thirty-two year old figured he could've just sat onstage in a chair, reading War & Peace aloud, and everyone still would've been thrilled to be in his presence. The stupid thought didn't last long as the man holding the twenties reached out and stuffed the bills into his pouch.
The action was of course accompanied by a grope of Sven's fat cock and bloated balls, but he didn't mind. Forty bucks earned the guy the right. But the guys stuffing singles into his chaps and thong, not so much…
Not seeing any more big bills headed his way in this area, the quint-carrying stripper arched his back even deeper as he pushed with his arms and legs. Grunting loudly (not that anyone could hear, but if they could, they probably would've liked it,) Sven wasn't sure he'd make it back to his feet on his first attempt, but thanks to all his muscles and sheer determination, somehow, he did.
Back on his swollen feet, his back was now really sore. Getting down and up had him panting heavily, like he once would've after two back to back, “normal,” aka: not pregnant performances. He'd hardly even “danced” during this one, and if he was lucky, was only about halfway through it.
Tired as he was, Sven contractually had no choice but to keep going. His waddle was extra exaggerated as he headed to the other side of the stage to repeat what he'd done on the other, without entirely repeating it… This time, after kneeling and leaning back, Sven let his giant, thrust out belly wobble from side to side as more bills were stuffed into the pouch of his thong and/or it and the chaps waistbands.
Naturally, everyone who could reach it, wanted to touch his belly, and did. Now that he was actively making (more) money, Sven was fine with that, so long as his “recepticals” kept being stuffed with cash…
He hadn't noticed when, but at some point, “Baby Making” had ended. A (thankfully) slow and sensual R&B song he didn't recognize was now playing, making it marginally easier for him to stay on beat.
Halfway through his second round of leaning back on the floor, Sven let himself get hard. As soon as he did, he was instantly aware of how much more pressure his eggplant erection put his poor thong under, making him wonder if it would hold?
When big bills stopped coming at him on that side of the stage, the time came for the thirty-two year old to stand again. This time, he very much considered waving Dominic and/or Matt over to help, but decided to first try (again) on his own. If he wasn’t successful, maybe he'd at least succeeded in earning a few sympathy tips…
***
Sven did make it back to his swollen feet under his own power, but this time, truly by the skin of his teeth. For the next several seconds, the quintuplet-carrier stood there, now profusely panting and perspiring, his hands going to his lower back for some much needed support as he thought about what to do next? What he could still do, that is…
Fortunately, there were still some bulbous parts of himself he'd yet to fully highlight. Sven was still breathing hard as he maneuvered back to center stage, where he aimed himself out at the now out of reach crowd, and then moved his hands up to the undersides of his upper mounds and cupped them.
Each of his breasts was now nearly twice the size of his head, the areolas crowning them nearly as big as his face, the nipples centering them as wide as the cap of a gallon of milk. Large as they were, the thirty-two year old's hands disappeared into the deep fold beneath his tits.
Sven let out another grunt as their hefty warmth registered against his opened palms. Somehow, maybe even more so now, he was still amazed by how much his body had changed in a matter of months.
Frequently as he thought about them, the number of changes, not to mention the degree of them, remained almost mind-blowing. Ever since having hit puberty, Sven had been a “big boy,” always impressively solid and thick: heavily muscled, but never close to being cut.
He'd never had any problem with that before but between being big to begin with, his affinity for other sexy “big boys,” and a very prolific pregnancy, the stripper had inadvertently upped his physical ante. Upped it to the point that solid and thick as he was, it was now a struggle to keep up.
Just a little longer, he silently told himself, a forced smile on his handsome, sweaty face as bills of various values were balled up and tossed in his direction, most now from further back in the crowd.
Previously, Sven would've treated all the bills landing on the stage as part of his act. He would've used them as an opportunity to bend over and show off some more, maybe even performing a couple sets of splits. Doing a split definitely wasn't an option anymore and now, he could hardly bend at the middle, which meant he'd have to get down on his hands and knees if he wanted to (attempt to) shake his tail feather, the thought of which made him groan internally.
With another quiet grunt, the increasingly exhausted stripper lifted his milk-filled breasts till their upper curves surrounded his square chin. Putting more pressure on his massive mammaries caused them to leak, which sent the audience into another frenzy, this one almost feverish.
Since he wasn't capable of performing most of his “go-to” moves at the moment, Sven went out on a limb and performed a new one… Using his hands, he moved his giant tits to the beat of the song he still didn't recognize. As he alternatingly bobbled his boobs, thick and warm milk correspondingly squirted from each nipple.
The hoots, catcalls, applause, and mostly wadded up bills being tossed at him, all increased, both in volume and frequency. Still shaking them up and down, Sven moved his hands out from entirely under his heavy tits, up to his nipples, and gave each a squeeze once they were between his fingers.
Much like his lemon-esque navel, the bigger the dancer’s nipples got, the more sensitive they became. Sometimes, all it took was a sneeze for Sven to find himself suddenly moaning in pleasure as his nips rubbed against whatever fabric was doing its utmost to contain them at the time. Touching the nubs with his hands took his pleasure to a new level, not only causing him to moan, but roll his eyes back in his head as well.
The sight of the swollen stripper fondling his leaking tits was quite simple and yet incredibly erotic. Sven had the biggest pair of “natural” breasts anyone at The Oven (himself included) had ever seen. The fact they and his belly were coated with body hair, created a very sexy juxtaposition, as did all his muscles.
Not that there was any doubt, but the bulges in his thong further highlighted the fact he was a male. Not just any kind of male, but a big, strong, sexy and very fertile one, and yet his now almost overly ripe condition, added a feminine element to the overall package.
A few of the guys in attendance wanted to be Sven. Many, many more fantasized that they'd been the one to knock him up. Whatever their preference, everyone was very happy they'd believed the vague hype and came to The Oven that night, even if Phil had doubled the usual cover charge.
Slow and “easy” as his routine was, the thirty-two year old was rapidly losing steam by then. But since this would be his last performance for the foreseeable future (pregnant or otherwise,) Sven remained determined to make the most of it.
The most money, that is…
Seeing as he'd been winging it all night, he still wasn't sure how he was going to finish? Since this was his last time performing as a preggo, Sven wanted to go out with a bang, but his options were (physically) limited.
Or were they..?
Suddenly, he had an idea he was pretty sure not only could he pull off, but would pay off as well.
As the thirty-two year old turned slightly to the right, he adjusted his grip on his nipples. When he was as sure as he could be he'd gotten his aim right, Sven gave his bloated tits a few final shakes, harder than any of his previous, accompanying the action with squeezes.
Just as he'd hoped, his big, dusky nubs released powerful jets of milk, which not only shot beyond his belly and the edge of the stage, but ended up splattering the top of the table he'd been aiming for. Avery's table…
Needless to say, Avery (not to mention everyone else) was shocked. Shocked and incredibly turned on…
The quint-carrying stripper's sexy, favorite patron looked from him, down to his now wet tabletop, then back at him again, the bottom of his bearded chin nearly touching his neck. The two made brief yet undeniably intimate eye-contact Sven cut off with a seductive wink before proceeding to slowly (and widely) turn all the way around.
Whether or not Avery realized it, it was game on… Knowing everyone else would (thoroughly) enjoy it anyway, Sven had decided to devote much of the remainder of his performance to him.
While his huge, heavy and hairy belly and breasts were obviously his main draws, there were plenty of guys who also appreciated a nice, big ass. Avery just so happened to be one of them and Sven just so happened to have the nicest, biggest ass in town. Also big to begin with, the stripper's rump had also expanded quite nicely (to put it mildly) in order to help counterbalance his increasingly massive womb and prepare itself for the birth of the quints.
Sven took a few small and careful steps back till he was close to the edge of the stage, then slowly eased himself back down to his knees. As soon as he was back down on them, they immediately screamed at him in pained protest. This time, instead of leaning back, the thirty-two year old leaned forward, but not before looking over his left shoulder and winking at Avery again.
His stretched abs burned as they worked overtime to control the slow and difficult transition. The more Sven leaned forward, the more his belly touched the floor. When his hands touched down, they took some of the weight from his knees, as did his belly, which was now pressed so hard against the polished wood that it bulged out even further to the sides, while pushing his fat tits back up around his chin.
“Fuuuuck…” the thirty-two year old exhaled, his voice somewhat muffled by his still dripping at a steady rate, milk-filled mounds.
Between his boobs and the roar of the crowd, he barely heard himself. Yes, he had (a lot) more to offer in the front, but obviously what he had in the back was appreciated as well.
Sven looked over his shoulder again at Avery and was happy to see the sexy stud grinning from ear to ear. If it wasn't already evident he was loving the show, he now had a small, fanned out stack of bills in his left hand. All hundreds by the look of it…
Grunting and groaning but now also grinning, Sven spread his legs then pushed his fat, hairy ass back. This wasn't comfortable (to say the least) nor was the feeling of the thong really digging into his waist and deep crack, the latter causing him to groan again and dip his head down, burying his chin between his tits.
A moment later. He felt something else… A large, warm hand on his sweaty left cheek. Sven turned and looked back again to (kind of) see Avery standing right at the foot of the stage.
“Hope you don't mind if I take a closer look?” He said, loud enough to be heard over the music and the other much less fortunate audience members.
“Not at all!” Sven shouted back as he slowly swayed his big ass back and forth to the beat.
Slowly and gently, Avery moved his hand from his left cheek to his right, then back between them. He reached in between the fat, furry globes, grabbed hold of the black “floss” fabric that had almost been entirely gobbled up by them and pulled it to the side, exposing Sven's hole.
“Mmmm!” He grunted. “Fuck!”
“Let us see!” Someone in the crowd shouted.
His request was echoed many times, but both Sven and Avery ignored them.
“Do you approve?” The stripper shouted again as he gave a small push, causing his recently more prominent pucker to “wink” at his favorite fan. “Does it look good?”
“Good enough to eat!” Avery shouted back as he worked two hundreds under the very warm and taut string before gently setting it back in place.
Sven wasn't super thrilled to have dirty money pressed against his hole, but it wasn't the first time or anything a shower wouldn't take care of. He'd need one after this anyway.
Whatever Avery had tipped him (so far) meant he could do pretty much whatever he wanted. As such, when Sven felt him reach between his thick legs and fondle his bloated balls and raging erection, he didn't signal for Matt. The stripper knew Phil was going to be pissed he was letting one guy hog his attention, but what was he going to do, fire him?!
Sven was the biggest and best performer he'd ever had, and probably ever would.
“Can I see your belly?” Avery requested as he moved his hand forward and ran his fingers over what they could reach of the warm, taut underside of Sven's belly.
The thirty-two year old shuddered. Stretched so tight, his skin was super sensitive. Avery's touch tickled a lot, but it also felt good. Almost good enough to make Sven forget about how tired, hot and heavy he felt…
“Did you forget your glasses or something?” He teased, moving his backside as best he could to the music, swinging it from side to side, while slowly shaking it up and down.
Avery laughed as he stared at the wobbling orbs, each of which was easily the size of a basketball. “I don't wear glasses.”
“So you saw it…”
“How could I miss it?” He continued, moving his hand to rub Sven's ass again, very much appreciating how huge, hairy and jiggly it was. “I was hoping to see it again. Up close and personal this time.”
“That's gonna cost you,” The stripper said, half kidding.
“Oh, of course!” Avery readily agreed, just as had been expected.
“This is gonna take a minute,” Sven said as he quickly tried to figure out how best to make his next awkward transition.
“Need help?”
While he definitely would’ve appreciated some, he had no choice but to decline. Patrons were allowed to touch, but only to a degree, and weren't allowed to get up onstage.
“I'll manage,” he replied, not entirely sure that was true.
Previously, Sven might've done some sort of sexy roll to change direction before hopping to his feet, but not now. Now, he proceeded to slowly turn around on his hands and knees, his sweaty belly dragging across the stage as he did. Once he'd fully turned, he came face to face with Avery, who was still standing at the foot of the stage.
“I know you want up close and personal… but you might wanna step back a little,” the thirty-two year old pantingly suggested, his sweaty, still dripping breasts heaving between his bulging biceps.
Avery looked disappointed (which Sven couldn't help but find cute) but he did as requested. By that point, the quint-carrying stripper was all but certain the hunky man would do anything he asked of him, even if the “privilege” came with the request of another tip…
Once his favorite audience member was out of the way, Sven pushed hard against the floor with his hands as he used his back, abs and thighs to work himself upright. The transition looked like it hurt, but of course, everyone loved it. More bills came flying at Sven as he quickly shot his hands out behind him, once again thrusting his enormous belly even further out in front.
Even after taking a couple steps back, the heavily panting stripper's bulging belly button ended up only inches away from Avery’s face, which was once again sporting a huge grin.
“Wow…” he slowly exclaimed as he reached out and placed his hands on either side of the huge, hairy orb.
Avery had touched Sven's belly before. Many times, in fact, but this time was different… Of course, it was notably bigger than the last but the actual biggest difference now was that the stripper's pregnancy now had almost zero give.
Sven's faithful, most favorite patron, was honestly amazed it still hadn't popped. He was glad too because it was (more than) safe to say that Avery was in the potential “splash zone,” should the performer's (presumably massive) water bag choose that moment to break.
Avery wanted to be there when it did, but he didn't want it to happen now… Just as his favorite stripper suspected, he was willing to do and pay whatever he had to, which soon, he'd make very clear.
As the tip of his tongue darted from between his lips, Avery applied gentle pressure with his hands, which almost instantly resulted in his palms being met with kicks.
“Oh, wow!” He said, staring directly at Sven's giant, heaving pregnancy with evident lust. “Their movements are still so strong!”
The stripper grunted. “They're stronger than ever now!”
He'd barely gotten the last word out before he was internally assaulted again. This kick occurred almost right at the middle of his bulbous middle, just above his belly button, causing it and the immediately surrounding area to bulge outward more and Avery’s handsome grin to widen.
The Oven's most fortunate attendee's left hand flew to the site of the most recent commotion, where his palm pressed down and around Sven's navel as his fingers tapped at where the third kick in a matter of minutes had come from. Light as it was, Avery’s tapping resulted in yet another kick, from yet another quint, causing both he and Sven to grunt in surprise.
“Shit, sorry!” Avery quickly apologized. “That probably doesn't feel as cool to you as it does to me,” he realized aloud.
“Probably not,” Sven agreed in the form of a chuckle. “But you're good,” he assured.
“I feel bad,” Avery said, frowning slightly as he took both hands from the stripper's belly and used them to work the remaining hundreds into the waistband of his thong.
Along with said bills, he included the note he'd written on a piece of thick card stock he'd specifically cut to mimic their shape so it wouldn't immediately stand out. After placing his final offering of the evening, Avery allowed his hands to return to Sven's belly one last time. He gave it two very gentle pats before stepping back and smiling up at the heavily panting and sweating stripper.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Anything for you,” Sven replied with another wink.
“Remember you said that,” Avery winked back before turning around and walking off.
Sven was surprised. Avery had never left any of his performances early, so why would he now?
Trying to figure out why would have to wait. Right now, the thirty-two year old had to put all his effort and attention into finishing up and getting off stage, but first, he had to get back up…
How he managed to do so on his first attempt he honestly had no idea, but miraculously, he did. Now profusely panting and perspiring, Sven forced another smile onto his flushed face as he looked around the stage.
It was still being littered with bills, a few coming not from the audience, but from where they'd somehow managed to slip from his costume. Fortunately, Dominic and his crew were good and honest, so Sven wasn't worried about getting everything he'd earned.
Without having tried to, too focused on his final pregnant performance, the thirty-two year old had timed everything perfectly. As the third song neared its end, he turned and started heading to the dais for his finale.
He carefully stepped back onto it then turned around and flashed one last smile at the crowd. The lights began to dim and the white screen descended as the song came to an end.
The audience roared as the lights went black. He was close, so close, but not finished yet…
Quick as he could, Sven turned to the left, leaned forward, reached down and around his belly and tugged at the top of his thong, dropping its pouch and freeing his cock and balls. He silently counted to three, audibly grunting as he hurriedly forced himself back to standing and then some.
The spotlight at the back of the stage, now to his right, burst back on. For one last time, the crowd went wild as his silhouette was revealed, belly, chest erection and balls all proudly thrust out in front of him, while his ass bulged out at the base of his arched back. The audience was still going crazy five seconds later when the lights went out.
Finally, the show was over. With a huge sigh, Sven slumped. He'd done it. The next time he graced the stage (back at his old club and not The Oven,) performing would be so much easier and less cumbersome.
He couldn't wait.
