“Fuck… me…” Isaac whimpered out, half in need, and half in annoyance. He fell back in the afterglow, swollen belly rising and falling to the rhythm of his panting. His fingers, his meaty, wobbly thighs, and half the bedspread were sticky with hours of erotic effort, but despite everything, he still wasn’t satisfied.

As a member of the Swap Surrogacy program, Issac lived to assist expecting mothers on what is often a taxing time for them, physically and emotionally, by literally taking that weight off their shoulders (and torso.) That usually came with additional, specific instructions to follow, and Isaac’s newest client was no different. First off: she didn’t want anyone to know she’d hired a Swap Surrogate in the first place. Unusual, and made Isaac’s job harder than it had to be, but she was paying well, so he obliged. Maternity leave meant he didn’t have to figure out her job, though faking through her baby shower was a little awkward. He’d managed to get enough information directly from the client, passively, living in her home, and gleaned from her husband that he was able to muddle through, tricking her friends and family, if barely. 

Speaking of the husband… that was the second demand: though Isaac still had to pretend to be this woman, live her life, her husband was off-limits. Usually this wouldn’t be problem- sure, he swapped into women for months at a time, but never once considered to proposition the spouse, or anyone else, in his borrowed bodies. He was a professional after all. But seeing as Isaac couldn’t communicate with the client’s husband to keep his distance, not treating a stranger like the wife he appeared to be... There hadn’t been any hanky-panky going around, but that didn’t preclude the odd… caressing on the husband’s part. Isaac very well could’ve refused physical contact, point blank, but he didn’t have the will to do so. The way that man gives a massage, mmhm…. just the thought of those artful, firm hands drifting across Isaac’s skin was enough for the “passions” to do their thing, and Isaac could feel himself grow slick yet again. Ridiculous. There was no way being in perpetual heat was a result of the pregnancy alone; Isaac’s client was clearly very… active. Was she so insecure in her relationship that she’d condemn some innocent sap to celibacy? The husband wanted it, and Isaac was more an amalgam of hormones than person, so he NEEDED it, but due to a woman, miles away, yucking it up as a guy (probably hooking up like a fiend, Isaac suspected) said they couldn’t. This was the hardest assignment he’d ever gotten from the agency; this was torture, horny and pent-up, relief right in front of him, yet so out of reach. “Not much longer to go now…” Isaac mumbled, lifting up his protruding tummy’s overhang to get a better angle. Hopefully, Round 4(?) would be the golden number.

The actual giving birth part was Isaac’s least favorite part of the Surrogate Program (for obvious reasons), but if it meant he would be released from his sexually frustrated haze, the due date couldn’t come any sooner.