Nis Gerpm

Chapter 8

 George was eight weeks, or at least three weeks after he was first prognosed. His back was beginning to curve inwards, making it harder to maintain a normal looking posture. The bump was steadily growing, now clearly defined from George's abdomen. This morning he couldn't believe how large he looked in the mirror. His belly was still passable for a bit of extra flab, but now made a slight divot in his clothing. His pants were also affected, feeling tighter around his waist as the days went on. George was thankful that there was only two weeks left before their final gig of the tour.

All this, and when Ringo took one sight of George unclothed he was in bliss. George had found that he could get his lover to do him small errands in return for glimpses of his belly. Then again, the drummer would have probably pampered him just as much without the coaxing.

"Here's your biscuits madam, specially crafted by elves in the Alps and brought down to you on a magical cloud boat, then finished with individual kisses from yours truly." Ringo handed George's favourite crackers on a glass platter, claiming that he had succeeded in preparing them exactly as the guitarist had commissioned. George smiled from the hotel chair and took the platter, slipping one into his mouth.

"Mm, I can taste your delicious lips," he mumbled playfully. Ringo beamed, before looking back at George expectantly.

"Now then, shall I?" he asked with a smirk.

"Fine, fine," George sighed, reclining the chair and untucking his shirt from his pants to reveal his rounded stomach. "Just be soft with it, alright?" Ringo grinned and went to retrieve his drumsticks.

"Of course love, I wouldn't want to hurt Ringo Jr. in there. Just going to teach him his basic styles so that he hops out ready for the next tour!" Ringo giggled and ran back to George with drumsticks in hand. He knelt down and started beating gentle rhythms onto George's bump, which made the guitarist burst into laughter.

To both parents, the most intriguing aspect of it all was that there was something living inside of George. Something that was exactly half of each of them. And that something one day would be able to look into their eyes and call them da'. Ringo's favourite belly activities were to drum, feel, caress, or kiss every bit of the surface as it grew each day. George could occasionally get cranky, which meant it was time for Ringo to back off. What George didn't decide to share- he supposed due to how special it was- was that every night he would sing lullabies to his belly in the hopes that the baby inside would hear. George knew it was much too early for the fetus to have taken any significant form, but it still made for the highlight of his day. He wondered how his child would behave, think, and what they would enjoy. Music, hopefully, would run strong in their blood. Pondering these topics was the only way George could lull himself to sleep anyway, in contrast to the growing anxieties he held deep down about how quickly his dreams could shatter.