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“I–I’m not going to make it.”
“You will. It’ll be alright,” Tom soothed, pressing his palm to Miles’s pussy through the seat of his pants. It was just enough pressure to keep the ben wa ball from popping out. The ball was holding the rim of his pussy stretched wide open, but the firm pressure of Tom’s hand kept it inside. Kept it from birthing out of him and spilling down the leg of his suit pants and rolling down the red carpet while E! News caught it all on tape.
It took his breath away to hustle to the nearest men’s room, as heavily pregnant as he was. Miles was only five months along, but it was his third litter and they were expecting two pups this time, both of them measuring big at every scan. The weight was coming on faster with every pregnancy, and Miles already looked as big as he had at nine months when he carried their first set of twins.
Tom kept their tailor on speed dial, and his bespoke suit had fit his swollen belly perfectly this morning, but it felt tight now as he broke into sweat with the force of how hard he was trying to squeeze the worn muscles of his pussy and keep the ball inside.
His gynecologist had recommended it when he’d gone to his last appointment and the largest speculum at her practice hadn’t fit, hadn’t been wide enough to touch his walls and keep his pussy spread open for his cervical check.
It happens to breeders sometimes, Miles, she’d comforted him, alone in the room after he’d sent Tom out to pull around their car. He’d asked if they could have a private word, and she’d closed the door before her nurse could come in. Listened to him as he asked if this was normal, if his pussy would ever tighten back up. He’d read the comments online when his third pregnancy had been announced, joking that Tom must be lining up another omega since this one had turned his pussy into a clown car. The news outlets had posted a paparazzi picture of him that must have been snapped with a telephoto lens, a mile from their home in Philadelphia but still HD enough to capture him shirtless out on their private patio. His belly had been distended with a new litter of pups and covered in stretch marks, one of his older pups latched on to his swollen tit that hung low on his chest.
They’d moved after that photo had gotten out, and Tom had mostly gotten it scrubbed from the internet by citing the Omegan Privacy Act. But everyone had seen it anyway, knew what his body looked like even at his heaviest when he’d been trying to hide.
And they hadn’t been able to see his pussy, but that hadn’t stopped everyone online from taking a mean guess.
He was big-bodied for an omega, and after Tom had broken him in with his knot and then several pups, his pussy had followed suit. It was a good thing, his doctor told him. What he was built for. He could labor at home with Tom and push their pups out with almost no recovery time. His pussy was meant to carry and deliver pups. He couldn’t give Tom a big family if he was tight like one of those tiny omegas in the pornos, with their pussies that were barely a slit.
But Miles asked the doctor if there was anything that he could do anyway. And she’d been kind, but the sympathetic look on her face told them that there probably wasn’t much. He’d pressed her for anything that he could do to help, and she had offered him special ben wa balls that he could wear inside of himself to try and train his muscles to squeeze and stay tight. She had several sets in her office, but she’d pointed him right towards the largest models. He had no chance of keeping anything inside of himself that was any smaller than a plum.
And it would help with his other problem too. The other thing that he’d waited for Tom to leave the room to ask her about.
Even though it wasn’t like he didn’t know.
Tom knew better than anyone that he’d been soaking their sheets lately, with a lot more than slick. He’d been kind, cleaning up after him and telling Miles that he loved when his boy got wet.
It hadn’t started until after their first set of pups. His pussy hadn’t been so big then, still closed up sometimes if he clenched. But when Tom fucked him just right, the spongy head of his fat alpha dick knocking into that spot right behind his pubic bone, sometimes Miles’s bladder would let loose and spill. All over himself, and all over Tom and his dick. He’d been mortified and stuttering when it first happened, but it wasn’t all the time then. And it had gotten better after a while, sometimes such a small squirt that maybe it could be excused away as just extra slick.
But then the triplets had been born, and nothing had gone back to how it was before. His pussy yawned open between his legs, slack and blown wide even when Tom popped a knot. He couldn’t even hold a tie anymore, both of them having to hold perfectly still if he wanted to keep Tom’s knot from sliding right back out just like a beta dick would after sex. His pussy had been remodeled by that litter, bent out of shape by three pups and pulled open so wide that it looked like it couldn’t ever snap back.
His knotting muscles were shot, and his bladder was too. When they fucked, he would pour urine over Tom, his body letting go as soon as he produced another drop.
When they went to bed at night, it was usually to a fresh mattress. Even with the liners that Tom had bought, there was no recovering them. But Tom never said a word, just quietly had them replaced when Miles was out of the house, lured to the pool to sunbathe his big belly.
These might help, but with your muscle tone, it would probably require surgery to really make a difference. But that won’t be an option until you’re done having pups, the doctor had told him. And who knew when that would be. Tom didn’t show any signs of being done knocking him up, and embarrassing as the changes to his body were, there was nothing that made Miles more proud than seeing Tom’s face when he pulled another pup out of his body and into the world. That feeling of having honored his alpha by doing his part and expanding their pack. Giving him a big family like no one else could.
It was what Miles was made for.
But he tried the balls anyway. Had been diligently wearing them every day for as long as he could, keeping his legs squeezed tight and using his fingers to push the balls back inside when he was walking around and one started to slick out. He never had a chance when he started to get wet. No amount of squeezing could keep them inside then, when his slick built up behind the ball and made it gush out past his lips in a torrent.
It had been risky, wearing one to Tom’s premiere. But it was a big night, Hollywood already abuzz with Oscar talk for Tom in the drama he was starring in. And the ball helped a little, helped him control his bladder more than he could when his pussy was gaping and empty with nothing to squeeze. He wanted to die when he thought about the possibility of wetting himself on the red carpet and embarrassing Tom, already big and fat from carrying their pups and not looking anything like he used to.
He’d been keeping it together until Tom had squeezed him close for a picture. Some of the paparazzi had been shouting out for Just Tom this time, trying to get him to stand alone for some shots. But Tom only tugged him closer, his arm around Miles’s waist and the hand with his wedding ring splayed proudly over Miles’s bump. Tom didn’t even flinch when they asked for Miles to move out of the shot, just grinned and held on tight like it would be a cold day in hell before he let anyone shoo away his mate.
And Miles had looked at him, Tom so proud to be with him and smelling like pleased alpha, and it had been too much, made heat swoop low in his belly and just like that a dam burst.
“Tom,” he’d whined. He could feel it. The ball had moved down his pussy, sliding right towards his opening where he was especially loose. His slick was building up behind the ball, and his muscles were so atrophied from being stretched out of shape, like a rubber band that couldn’t snap tight. And worst of all, he felt a hot drip of urine slide down his leg. Miles had crossed his legs and tilted his head down, whining right into Tom’s ear. “I can’t hold it,” he’d told him, frantic.
He was going to spill out right on the red carpet, birthing that ball into his suit pants and wetting himself in front of the cameras.
Tom had nodded and waved the paparazzi off, signaling for his assistant to come over and walk with them.
He’d hustled Miles off of the red carpet and into the theater, not hesitating to ditch his own premiere.
“Tom,” Miles whined, feeling the twins do a flip in his belly as he squeezed all of his muscles as hard as he could. Anything to keep that ball from coming out. But he could barely feel it inside, as slack as he’d gone. He felt his opening being held open, but his internal muscles couldn’t get any kind of a grip.
“Hold on, sweetheart. You’ve got it,” Tom told him, and he nodded desperately as Tom ushered them into an empty stall.
“Alright, it’s alright now. You made it. You’re safe in here,” Tom said, his alpha musk getting stronger as he tried to soothe Miles, reassure him that he was alright.
“I need my pants off,” Miles told him, not wanting to tell Tom that he wasn’t just losing the ball. His bladder was about to spill all over.
But Tom already knew, was nodding as he undressed Miles with one hand, still pushing on his pussy through his pants to hold the ball up inside. He finally tugged Miles’s pants off of his hips and they fell to his feet, leaving him bare from the waist down.
The ball jostled and wet started to seep out of him, and Miles didn’t know what hole he was leaking from.
“Come on, honey, hold on to me,” Tom said, and he positioned Miles right over the toilet, bracing Miles’s weight so he could crouch down in a squat.
And that was all he could take. The ball popped out, rushing into Tom’s hand with a torrent of slick gushing out behind it. His bladder cut loose at the same time and Miles squeezed his eyes shut and trembled, overwhelmed with relief and embarrassment as he heard himself pour into the toilet, drenching Tom’s hand with the wet flood.
The tension started unwinding in his belly as he emptied himself out, but Miles sucked in a sharp gasp as his pussy lips pushed back open as Tom held the ball back up to his body and notched it in.
But the ball was just the medium size from the set, and as wet and spread as he was, it fell back out into Tom’s palm with a loud squelch.
“I-I can’t keep it in,” Miles told him, hunched over Tom’s back as he used his mate to hold himself up.
“Try for me, baby,” Tom told him, pushing the ball back in past his lips. Miles squeezed with every ounce of strength that he had, bearing down on his pussy like he was trying to tie Tom’s knot. But it had been a while since he’d been able to form a lock, and all of his squeezing just pushed out another squirt of urine and slick, the ball falling right back out into Tom’s hand.
“Such a perfect pussy,” Tom told him, pressing a kiss into his sweaty neck. “You’re just too good at pushing out my pups to hold this little ball in.”
Miles flushed with pleasure, even as he should have felt like shit. He had still been overweight from the triplets when Tom had knocked him up again, and now he was even heavier. Overweight and sagging from nursing so many pups, and with a pussy that was bigger than any alpha’s knot. He should have felt like nothing, but he wasn’t nothing. He was just right for Tom, and he felt proud of himself as his pussy spilled out another burst of wet into Tom’s hand.
“Good thing I brought the next size,” Tom told him, slipping the drenched ball into the pocket of his suit, not even bothering to clean off Miles’s sticky wet and juices.
He pulled out the biggest ball that came in the set, as big as his own clenched fist. Miles buried his face into Tom’s neck and nudged under the collar of his white button down to stuff his nose right into Tom’s bonding gland, the scar from his own teeth. He spread his legs obediently for Tom, letting the alpha hold him up completely as he crouched down into an even lower squat.
Tom rubbed the ball over Miles’s gaping pussy, rolling it all over his open hole and hard little dick, getting it slippery with Miles’s own mess. The pressure of the ball against the head of his dick made Miles’s legs tremble, even more fluid splatting out of him and into the toilet bowl below.
When Tom was satisfied that it was thoroughly wet, he rolled the ball to Miles’s entrance, putting pressure upwards with the heel of his palm so that it started to open his hole up wide.
Miles whined. Even to his broken-in pussy, it felt big, a step up from the last ball that he couldn’t even hold in.
“Come on baby. Open up,” Tom told him, and Miles felt his insides go slack as he instinctively obeyed. And then the ball was pushing up and in and spreading him wider than he had been since he’d pushed out his youngest pup. He gasped and clenched every muscle in his body, even his pussy tightening up around the overwhelming stretch. Tom kept pushing the ball up inside of him until it kissed against his cervix, following the ball inside with his hand, four of his fingers sinking in to the knuckle.
Miles shuddered out an orgasm as the ball notched up inside of him just right, holding him open wide just like he liked. Tom rotated his knuckles inside of him and ground his fingers into the spongy tissue of his swollen g-spot, making Miles moan loudly in the empty restroom as a second orgasm quickly followed.
But no more liquid spilled out of him, all of his holes held shut by the pressure of the huge ball wedged inside of him.
“I think you’re good,” Tom told him, pulling his soppy fingers out of his pussy to start dressing him back up. “That’ll keep that pretty pussy busy for a while.”
Miles nodded, shaky and spent, slack as his alpha dressed him.
“And then when I get home, I think I’ll fuck you with it still inside,” Tom said, a promise, kissing Miles as he moaned and shook and slicked all around the trapped ball.