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More from lliw
Mark Ashton, singer-songwriter of the band "Foxglove", schedules a new tour to revolve around his growing pregnancy.
Here we go, HERE WE GO. Part 2 of 3! This one is a hair shorter than 1 and 3, so I hope that's alright.
Includes: ultrasounds! fan meet-and-greets! the name of the baby! fangirl doctors! a pregnant fox man! celebrities! drama! suspense! you'll laugh, you'll cry!
As always, comments are my favorite thing in the world. You wouldn't even have to get me a Christmas gift this year
Enjoy!
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The entire staff of Santa Fe Obstetrics was buzzing with excitement that morning, the younger staff especially. The 1 o'clock appointment was approaching steadily. The front desk staff was having trouble paying attention to their regular patients and gossiped to one another at a moment's notice. They shot their heads toward the front door each time it opened, only to be disappointed each time. It was only until 1:18 that their patience finally paid off.
A heavily pregnant Mark Ashton waddled through the door, helped along by his husband and the entirety of Foxglove. What a few months ago was simply extra pudge or a small roundness to his stomach had ballooned out into a fully realized Buddha-belly. Mark was unmistakably pregnant, from the way he walked with his hands supporting his lower back, to the healthy, golden sheen to his fur, and to the glow he radiated from his near constant smile. He wore an extra-large shirt of the band's own tour (purchased from one of their own shows when none of Mark's clothes would fit him anymore) draped over his belly like a particularly short dress.
The nurses, secretaries, and even other waiting patients in the lobby broke into stunned murmurs at the sight of the band. In reality, this is what they wanted to happen. Clint, Renard, and Rikki were there to serve as a distraction to any fans so that Mark could have his appointment in peace. They'd learned in Atlanta that fans were willing to go through any lengths, jump any barriers, or ruin any ultrasounds to get a glimpse at their famous frontman. Unphased at the gawking crowd, Mark simply approached the front desk, walking steadily to adjust to the new weight he'd gained.
“Hi, I've got an appointment for Mark Ashton for 1?” He glanced at the clock. “I'm sorry we're a little late. We...weren't sure where to put the bus.”
The nurse behind the desk simply giggled uncontrollably before passing over a sign-in sheet on a clipboard. Mark began to scribble in his information before glancing over his shoulder to the rest of Foxglove fielding the crowd, signing autographs, and not-so-subtly keeping excited fans away from him.
“You guys alright?”
Clint rolled his eyes dismissively as he turned back.
“This is nothing, man. Go do your thing.”
“You better bring back the fucking pictures this time, too,” Rikki said, a lot louder than she probably should have.
Mark shrugged, continuing to fill out the sheet. Once he was finished, he walked a few feet to the edge of the desk, leaning against the wall with his arm around his belly and panting heavily.
“Are you alright?” Jeremy asked, worried. Mark smiled and shook his head.
“Just...Just a little...winded,” he gasped, waving his arm. “It's...way too damn hot here.” He stood up and clasped his arms around his belly, his fingers just barely able to touch. “If we don't get out of the southwest soon, Melody's gonna be born hard-boiled.”
Jeremy, not as as amused by Mark's joke as he was, turned back to the receptionist, who was excitedly chatting to her friends. “Excuse me,” he said, ignored. He cleared his throat and said louder, “Excuse me. Ma'am.” Before he could speak a third time, Rikki walked up beside him, rapped her knuckles against the desk, and shouted “HEY!” from deep in her throat. When the receptionist and all her friends jumped to their attention, Rikki gave Jeremy an affectionate scratch behind the ear before going off to continue signing autographs.
“Could we have a bottle of water, please?” Jeremy asked, meekly. The receptionist nodded, producing a generic-brand bottle of distilled water from somewhere behind the desk.
“Here,” Jeremy said as he presented it to his exhausted husband. Mark began to suck down the cold water as Jeremy laid a hand against his belly to see if he could feel any kicks.
“Let's hope she puts on a show for the cameras,” Mark gasped, finishing the water.
“If she's really your daughter, she can't resist,” Jeremy snarked, massaging Mark's sore stomach.
From behind them, a door slid quietly open to reveal an old antelope woman holding a clipboard. Instead of calling out a name, she looked directly at Mark and Jeremy to say “We're ready for you.”
The two left the chaos in the lobby to the quiet examination rooms that made up most of the building. They followed the antelope nurse to a station to take basic measurements. Mark closed his eyes as they weighed him, only letting the nurse tell him if it was good or bad. From there, they followed her to a small room with a couple of chairs, a long medical bench, and an unplugged ultrasound machine set up next to it.
The two chatted for a while, after Jeremy had helped Mark up onto the bench, before the door opened to reveal the doctor as a young cocker spaniel woman wearing, above her scrubs, a black t-shirt with the old Foxglove logo from their first album.
“I don't think you're supposed to be wearing that,” Mark teased, pointing to the shirt. The doctor blushed and held her clipboard over her face, turning away to shut the door. Her tail was wagging furiously in excitement. Mark smirked. That had always been a very endearing trait of all his canine friends.
“No...No they...” the doctor cleared her throat to stall. “They told me I could not...but I did. Anyway.”
“Rock on,” Mark nodded, flashing metal horns. “Well, I'm Mark and this is my husband and the father, Jeremy.” Jeremy stood to quietly give a polite nod and shake the doctor's hand.
“Yes! Right, I...I know who both of you are, obviously,” she said, grinning. “I'm Ashley...uh, oh...I mean, Dr. Burke.” She swallowed hard before putting on a composed, professional demeanor.
“Great to meet you, Dr. Burke,” Mark said warmly as he shook her hand. She blinked, trying very hard to maintain her composure as he flashed his very famous grin. Pulling away, Mark grunted as he pushed himself farther back on the medical bench and laid down, pulling back his shirt to expose his filling belly to the cold air.
“A-alright...Let me just...” Dr. Burke set the clipboard down and squeezed into the small space behind the wheeled ultrasound cart. As she bent down to plug it in, her still-wagging tail thumped against the drywall like a drum. Eventually, the small screen turned on and began to boot to life, shortly before the doctor emerged from the floor.
“Oh-kay! We can just wait for this old girl to get ready...” Dr. Burke paused, wringing her hands together, before nervously stammering, “Ok, so, Mr. Ashton, before we start, I want to say that I fought really hard just to be the one to give you this examination because I have been a huge fan for a really long time and this is honestly a dream come true.”
“Then you must have some weird dreams, Ashley,” Mark joked as he rubbed a hand over his belly. “But I'm glad my daughter and I are in good hands, thank you.” He pointed to the shirt again over her scrubs. “So you're a fan of Upside-Down, then?”
“Oh, yeah, I am. But my favorite album is Hair of the Dog.”
“Really?” Mark said, sitting up to look over the mound of stomach in the way. “Nobody ever talks about that album very much. It was actually kind of a bomb in the US.”
“I guess, but it came out after a really hard breakup so, for me, the music really came to me at a time I really needed it, yknow?”
“I do, I do. I had just broken up with my last girlfriend...yknow, before I realized what everybody else had known for years,” he added, quietly taking Jeremy's hand. “I always thought it made the album too sappy but...” Mark shrugged. “I guess not to everybody.”
“No! God, no, not at all.” Dr. Burke sighed deeply. “Foxglove just means...so much to me. Thank you, Mr. Ashton.”
“I'm honored we could make a difference in your life. Thank you, Dr. Burke.” Mark leaned forward as far as he could to shake her hand once more.
“Uhm...I...Is the machine booted up yet?” Jeremy asked quietly.
“Oh!” Dr. Burke exclaimed, shaking herself. “Right! We're almost ready.” Turning to a cabinet in the corner of the small room, Dr. Burke produced a tube of ultrasound gel. Mark threw his hands up in the air.
“Here we go again,” he groaned.
“Just be grateful we don't have to shave your fur, first,” Dr. Burke said as she squeezed a large glob of it into her hands. As she began to spread it evenly over Mark's belly, both he and the belly's occupant jumped simultaneously.
“Fuck, it gets worse every time,” he cursed, making a face in disgust as the fur of his stomach was flattened down with sickening 'squelch' sounds. “It's so cold, ugh!”
“Your belly is getting more sensitive as stretches out,” Dr. Burke explained. “Your fur is getting pulled thin, so the gel gets right to your skin underneath.”
“I'm gonna need to shower forever to get this crap off.” Mark's belly visibly deformed as Melody flipped over in the womb. “She knows what I'm talking about, anyway.”
“Don't be such a baby, it comes out with a washcloth,” Jeremy said.
“I know, I know, but when I get to be this pregnant, I'm allowed to complain about whatever I want.”
“So we got your charts and information this morning from your last doctor,” Dr. Burke interjected as she flipped through her clipboard. “By the time you came in you are...thirty weeks along?” She glanced at Mark's stomach, looking quite a bit bigger than thirty weeks along.
“If my counting is right, yes.” Mark nodded. He leaned back and stared at the ceiling to remember what he'd read in the pregnancy book. “Baby is about as big as a large cabbage and is starting to develop her eyesight. She also weighs about 400 quadrillion fucking pounds and is making my joints turn into putty.”
“Thought of any names yet?”
“Melody,” Jeremy piped in, taking Mark's hand again.
“It was his idea,” Mark added, proudly. “He just said it out of the blue one day and I instantly knew what he was talking about. Like magic.”
“In my professional opinion,” Dr. Burke said, as she pulled out the ultrasound wand, “that's adorable. Ready to take another peek?”
“We are so fucking ready,” Mark grinned as he sat back on the bench and took a deep breath.
As Dr. Burke touched down the wand to Mark's belly, a gray and white image appeared on the screen in the distinctive U-shape he and Jeremy had grown to know so well. She moved the wand gently over his stomach, sliding over the gel to find the lumps beneath that were Melody's arms and legs.
“Now judging by your current size, I am sorry to say, Mark, that you will be carrying big. Male pregnancies tend to produce a slight excess of amniotic fluid for first timers. But beyond general discomfort, you and Melody will be fine.”
“At least we won't have to teach her how to swim,” Mark said.
“Have you been playing her any music?” Dr. Burke asked, keeping conversation going as she tried to find a good position to see the kit from.
“I think she's probably heard enough of Foxglove by now. Sometimes I'll get headphones and play her some of my favorite classical music.” Mark giggled, his belly jiggling, as he tapped Jeremy on the chest. “Remember when Rikki got some of her Sonic Holocaust CDs that made Melody flip the hell out? I thought she was gonna make me pee my pants again. I swear, part of me thinks she actually enjoyed it.” Mark turned back to Dr. Burke. “It's so weird that, like, my stomach basically has ears now. She'll jump at a loud noise or move when I sing to her and it's...basically the most incredible-”
“There she is,” Dr. Burke exclaimed, stopping the wand about two inches below Mark's popped belly button. Shifting to the right, the gray blob on the screen slowly began to take shape into a small muzzle, open mouth, two arms curled against a chest, and the silhouette of a huge, triangular ear the size of her head. Mark gasped and pointed to the screen.
“Look, look!” He yelled, gripping Jeremy on the arm, who was staring just as intently. “Look at her fucking ears! She's got your ears!” Dr. Burke tried to keep the image steady as Mark collapsed into excited laughter mixed with tears welling in his eyes. Melody flipped over from the sudden activity as Mark pulled Jeremy into a torso-high hug, affectionately rubbing and kissing his husband's head. “I love it, I love your big fucking ears...” he cooed.
Once Mark had calmed down, Dr. Burke continued the examination, pointing out all the identifiable points of the baby that they could see from just the simple screen. While doing so, she explained in detail many of the changes Mark had been and would be experiencing in his body to prepare for 'birth.'
“Now, while it is possible for you to give birth through an...existing orifice...” She explained, clearing her throat uncomfortably. “Most carrying fathers opt for a c-section as it is usually the best way to guarantee a safe birth.”
“Will my water break?” Mark asked. “How will I know 'the time is now?'”
“Most women...or I should say, most carriers feel the labor coming on long before the amniotic sac actually breaks. But should it come down to it, yes, your water can still break and leak from…your genitals.”
Mark made a face in discomfort.
“The miracle of birth is beautiful, but nobody said it would be clean.” Dr. Burke smiled, gripping Mark's hand confidently. “You're going to be fine. Any doctor worth their degree is well-familiar with male birth. It's not like it was ten years ago.” Taking off her gloves, she set aside the ultrasound wand back in the basket it came in. “Well, that should be it! I'll give you my card before you go in case you have more questions.”
“Don't lie,” Mark smirked. “You just want me in your phone contacts.”
“That's not not true...”
As she stood up from her stool and Jeremy began to help Mark up to a sitting position, he stopped both of them.
“Wait,” Mark said, holding out a hand. “Can...can I hear her?”
“Of course,” Dr. Burke said, sitting back down and pulling out a separate wand from the machine. “The doppler is easier than the ultrasound. Just lie back down.”
Mark did so, resting his hands on his chest and out of the way.
“I meant to ask at my last checkup back in Tuscon, but I forgot.”
Without another word, Dr. Burke set the tip of the wand to Mark's belly, producing a sound from the screen that wasn't dissimilar to a shell on the beach, but much deeper. He and Jeremy remained silent, both straining their sizable ears to hear anything different. Then, after a few seconds, Mark's more trained hearing caught a small, yet discernible rhythm of a heartbeat, separate from his own. He stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, listening to Melody's heart pound away inside of him. He laid his hands against his belly, almost sure he could feel it through the tips of his fingers. The first spark of life, growing into something powerful.
“It's...it's so loud,” Jeremy said, amazed. “I didn't think it would be so-” He stopped as he turned to Mark, who was lying back on the bench cushion with his eyes closed, two streams of tears dripping from beneath his lids. He tapped on his belly to the rhythm of the fetal heartbeat, like a metronome, and was silently mouthing words to himself.
“Mark?”
“Hmm?” Mark mumbled, snapping his eyes open and wiping the tears from his cheeks. He sniffed. “What? I was...wow...” He sighed, sitting up as far as was possible. “That...that was her.”
“Yes it was,” Jeremy said, grinning.
As Mark came back to his senses, Dr. Burke left to go find them a washcloth. Returning, she found him back on his feet and talking quietly with his husband, hands atop his belly.
“Hey, you coming to the show tonight?” Mark asked, taking the rag.
“I can't...” Dr. Burke shrugged. “It's too expensive. Plus, it sold out in like a couple days.”
“Too expensive?” Mark said, spitting out the words like they tasted bad. “Wait here a minute.” Pulling out his phone, he used his left hand to gently wipe the ultrasound gel from his fur and his right to dial a number.
“Hey, Sheldon, it's Mark,” he spoke into the receiver. “We're in Santa Fe. Do you have the number for who's running the venue?” A pause. “Okay, cool. Get 'em to set aside a VIP pass for a friend of mine in town.” Another pause. Dr. Burke's heart nearly stopped. “Yeah. Name's Ashley Burke. You got that? It's gotta be done tonight.” One more pause as she sat down in a chair next to the door to keep from collapsing. “It's a personal favor, alright? I'll call 'em myself if- Okay, yeah. Good. Thanks a lot.” Mark ended the call and slipped the phone back in his pocket before pulling his shirt back over his belly.
“So. See you tonight?” He said. Stunned, Dr. Burke simply nodded. “Good. I might need a doctor in the house.” Mark jotted down his cell number on the back of one of her business cards and handed it over. “Let me know if there's any trouble, alright?” He patted his stomach. “Melody and I thank you, doctor.”
The growing family walked back to the lobby, with a new spring in Mark's heavy step that he hadn't come in with an hour ago.
*************************************************************
The Denver venue was a lot smaller than most typical Foxglove shows, but it was the ideal that Mark wanted from the tour. Intimate. Smaller. More personal. It was small enough that Mark wasn't exhausted from performing. His favorite new luxury was meeting fans after the show, something that the band wouldn't be able to do at big arena concerts. It was a great reminder to when they were just getting started, when the crowds weren't so dense and Mark himself was one fox baby lighter.
After sucking down four bottles of water in quick succession and pouring the fifth over his head, Mark left his backstage dressing room about half an hour after the night's show had ended and made his way toward the lobby instead of the back door. Jeremy had stayed for the show, but needed to go be alone for a while in the bus to calm down. In his place, Clint tagged along to assist his growing bandmate and to meet a few fans of his own.
“How long does this usually take?” Clint groaned, flexing his fingers from a long night of plucking his bass.
“It depends on the crowd, really,” Mark said. “Sometimes all they want are autographs. There are a few people that just want to chat, which I guess isn't always bad. It's like...more casual than an autograph session, but less casual than if we get recognized at a restaurant.”
“Can't say I'm a fan of either of those,” Clint grumbled, scratching behind his ear. He pointed to Mark's heavy middle. “So...Do I...need to kind of...watch people around...uh...you?”
“Nah, they usually ask first,” Mark said, waving a hand dismissively. “Sometimes people sneak in surprise rubs or pats or something, but that goes with the territory. A lot of the girls like to feel Melody kick, now that she can, so that's kinda cute.”
“Yeah...” Clint nodded, uncomfortably. “It, uh...sounds like it.”
The two walked quietly to the lobby exit, Clint slowing down to keep pace with Mark's slower and heavier waddle. As they neared the doors, Mark sighed, stopping in his tracks and pulling on Clint's shoulder to do the same.
“What's going on with you lately?” Mark asked. He gestured to his stomach. “It's this, isn't it?”
“I...Eh...” Clint fiddled with one of his ears and flicked his tail dismissively. “I guess. It's just getting...kinda weird, yknow?”
“What do you mean by weird?” Mark asked, hurt flickering across his face.
“I just...when this started, I thought we were gonna have something new in common. And we are but...” He sighed, trying to get the words out right. “It's bizarre seeing you in the same way Caroline was when she was pregnant. Sometimes I forget to still call you 'he.' I think about how my best friend of twelve years is going to be a mother now.” Clint shrugged. “And I just don't know how to take it.”
“What makes you think we won't have something in common?” Mark said. “And...yknow, I get it. This isn't the 'normal' way to have a baby, but no matter how it goes, we're still both gonna be dads. Melody and Charlie are gonna be best friends, we can sit out by the pool and drink and hang out while watching them. In a month or two, all of this,” Mark held his belly with both arms, “isn't gonna matter.”
Clint shook his head and sighed again.
“I know, I know. My brain knows that, but the rest of me doesn't know what to think.”
“Well, what did you think when I came out?” Mark asked, leaning against the wall to take some of the weight off his paws.
“I was okay with it,” Clint shrugged. Before he could continue, Mark pointed at him and shook a finger.
“Ah ah ah, not at first you weren't. I tried talking to you for a week after I came out of the closet and you barely looked at me. But you got over it.”
“Well...yeah, I...” Clint folded his arms and scuffed a paw on the ground. “Yknow, I'm...kind of ashamed of that now, I guess.”
“I know you are, man. Look, Melody's gonna be out of me before either of us know it. Then things can go back to normal. But until then, I'm gonna enjoy my pregnancy.” Groaning, Mark rocked back to his feet and massaged his lower back. “We're wasting time, let's talk about it later.”
Mark re-adjusted his extra-large shirt over his extra-large middle before he and Clint exited through the lobby doors of the music hall, instead of the back door the rest of the band took. Scattered, individual groups of tired, dirty, but ecstatic Foxglove fans chatted excitedly to one another about the show. When a couple fans closest to the door spotted Mark and Clint, they gasped loudly, drawing the attention of the rest of the room. Suddenly, an exhilarated rush of paws, tails, messy fur, and overpriced band shirts flocked toward them to form a small crowd.
“Hey guys!” Mark called cheerfully, scanning the packed group of wide-eyed faces excitedly vying for his attention. Though Clint was similarly rushed buy fans, the group around Mark kept a noticeable and nervous distance between them and his ponderous belly. “Give us a little space, alright?” Mark said, taking advantage of their hesitation to shuffle from the door to the middle of the lobby, beside the closed ticket booth. The fan group followed him dutifully, keeping together a vague circle. Standing on his toes, Mark locked eyes with Clint, who was chatting and signing the CDs of a few fans on his own. Mark raised a concerned eyebrow, to which Clint responded with a reassuring thumbs-up.
“Mark!” called a high voice on his left. A skinny snow-leopard girl in a tour tank top pushed through and bounced up and down excitedly at his side. “Mark! Mar- Mr. Ashton! Your show was amazing! I saw you guys in Chicago a few years ago, but this was the best show I've ever seen!”
“That's really nice of you to say,” Mark smiled to her, automatically shuffling to her side as she pulled out her phone, anticipating a picture. “We're kind of getting tired of the big concerts these days. I like the ones where I can actually see you crazy assholes jumping up and down.” The group laughed before the girl approached Mark's side and held out her cell phone camera. Without missing a beat, he flashed a practiced, toothy smile and made sure to hold it for a few seconds before the girl backed away, thanking him profusely.
“Yoooo, Mark Ashton!” said a tall, slightly chubby lion to his left. He held up his hand to grip Mark's shoulder, who instead countered it with a hi-five. “You guys fuckin killed tonight, man!”
“Thanks! I'm glad you thought so!” Mark said, silently wondering how this bro-y guy outside their demographic found his way into the show.
“No, seriously man, I loved it,” the lion continued. “You did 'Broken Glass' acoustic. That shit is my jam, man.” The lion suddenly and shamelessly took of his shirt, drawing the attention of the group's women and a few men to his bulky physique. “Could you sign my shirt, man?”
“Uh...Y-yeah! I'd be happy to,” Mark said, pausing slightly at his forward behavior. Taking the shirt, Mark draped it over his belly like a shelf so he could use both hands to dig into his pockets to find the sharpie. They chuckled at the action, to which he rolled his eyes. “I gotta get some use out of the belly, don't I?”
Finally finding the marker, he signed near the left shoulder of the lion's shirt and passed it back to him. The large fan whooped happily before pumping his fist in the air and leaving the crowd to go talk to Clint.
“How are you feeling?” a small otter girl asked. Mark huffed, laying a hand on his belly.
“It's not getting any easier,” he said. “We do a lot of acoustic songs because I just don't have the energy to keep up, otherwise. Plus, my lungs are kinda squished. But other than that, it's been fine. She's been kicking and flipping around all the time, but it's still cute. It's like I have a little cheerleader inside me.” The fans laughed.
“C-Could I...would it be okay to feel?” the otter asked timidly, holding out a hand.
“Of course!” Mark exclaimed, rolling up his shirt welcomingly to expose the white globe to his fans. At first, only a few gently poked his stomach gingerly before laying their palms flat against him. But after a moment, at least a dozen different fans had their hands against Mark's belly, in awe of both what they felt and who they felt it on. After a moment, Melody hiccuped inside his womb, causing a number of fans to gasp and excitedly giggle at the small movement. Mark himself sighed comfortingly, the numerous, gentle hands against his middle bringing him a sense of ease.
“Does she have a name yet?” asked a young wolf with a high voice, who was currently massaging his fingers through Mark's belly fur beside his navel.
“Melody!” he said, simultaneously with a few other voices in the crowd, who had evidently seen the update on his Twitter. “Jeremy came up with it a few months ago.”
“Is he coming out here?” The otter girl asked excitedly. Mark frowned and shook his head as a few other hands found a space against his belly.
“He's...not comfortable around crowds. Plus, he's not technically a member of Foxglove. He probably wouldn’t want to.” A number of faces and ears drooped, disappointed. Jeremy had apparently gained a kind of fan following of his own. Mark wondered if this would make his husband happy or even more nervous. He lost his train of thought as Melody kicked out and turned over beneath the all the hands, making a visible bulge against the outside of his belly. The fans giggled and gasped as she did while Mark chuckled at their reactions.
“But I think this little girl is going to grow up to be an attention lover,” Mark bragged as Melody continued to kick and squirm. “She loves when we talk to her or give her attention from the outside.”
“That is so cute,” said the snow-leopard girl, who was feeling Mark's belly with both hands from his right side.
“It's not as cute when she hits organs she shouldn't,” Mark sighed. “A note to any of you who wanna get pregnant one day: you will pee your pants. It's not an if, it's a when. Remember that.”
After a few minutes, and a few more coos and gasps from the fans as Melody continued to shift around, they pulled their hands away and resumed a regular meet-and-greet, though the group spoke much more comfortably to Mark. He hated when people treated him with total awe like he was a king. If he needed to do something weird in order to break the ice, he was happy to do so.
Right as he finished signing a CD of a younger fan and pointing out his favorite songs, a tall, gray-furred cat politely pushed his way toward the middle of the crowd and tapped Mark on the shoulder. Mark wasn't one to be rude to a fan, but he was very resistant to their pokes and prods. So as he handed back the CD to the fan and hi-fived him, Mark turned to the cat, next.
“Hey, what's up!?” Mark greeted cheerfully, extending his right hand to shake while his left went to massage his sore lower back.
“H-hi, Mr. Ashton,” the cat said softly, shaking his hand nervously. He didn't look much older than his early twenties, if even that. “I was...I really wanted to meet you and t-talk to you.”
“Totally! Of course you can. What's your name?”
“I-I'm Jared,” he said, stepping forward through the row of fans that was blocking him. His eyes were a striking shade of jade green, made all the more so in contrast to his dull fur.
“Great to meet you, Jared. Did you like the show?”
“I...You...This show...” Jared took a deep breath to regain his composure. “I loved the concert tonight, but your entire tour has changed my life, Mark. I...just...I really wanted to meet you before...” Jared's eyes glanced downward.
“Before I very rapidly lose some weight?” Mark joked, to the laughter of others. Jared himself smiled, still nervously.
“Well, yes, that too. I just wanted to meet you and tell you how much you and Foxglove and your music means to me.” Jared swallowed again, but Mark simply listened. “My...I grew up in a very unwelcoming household where I never felt like I would fit in. I was the middle of a litter, so I never felt like much attention was given to me beyond my more outgoing brothers and sisters. I listened to your music a lot growing up, mostly Upside-Down, and it meant a lot to me. You...I was just graduating high school when you came out of the closet and you gave me the courage to...to do the same and discover the parts of myself I was hiding all my life. And it's because of you and your music that I'm able to finally accept who I am and meet my amazing fiance.”
“That...” Mark spoke, but didn't have words to say. He swallowed. “That's...It's amazing that...what I've done has meant so much to you. Thank you for telling me that, Jared. Really.”
“Of course. My partner and I are both huge fans. And when you announced your pregnancy and this tour...well...” Jared grinned sheepishly. “You helped give us the courage to do the same.”
Jared looked down, bashfully averting his eyes. Mark followed his gaze and nearly jumped when he noticed the cat's own distinct, round, volleyball-sized baby belly near inches from his own.
“Oh...oh!” Mark exclaimed, everything suddenly falling into place. “You...oh my God!” Mark laughed excitedly, leaning forward an inch or so to let the front of his belly bump against Jared's. “That's- Congratulations! So you...you decided to have a baby because of me?”
“We just thought that your tour announcement might help make our kinds of pregnancies more accepted. I thought about you gave me the courage to accept I was gay, so this just seemed like the next step to me.” Jared caressed his smaller belly lovingly with both arms. “So yeah, we decided to have a baby...Though we didn't really decide on three of them.”
“Holy shit,” Mark cursed. “Triplets? I...I am so sorry.”
“Don't be. We thought it might be a possibility. One of them is a boy, so we're going to name him Mark.”
“You-” Mark stammered, his eyes welling up with thick tears. “You're going to name your son after me?” He sniffed and wiped his eyes dry. “I don't know what to say...Thank you...I'm just...I'm happy I made a difference.” He looked around at the curious eyes still watching him. “Did...Did I really inspire some of you?”
Nearly every person in the small crowd nodded.
“'Moonrise' helped me learn to stop cutting myself,” the snow-leopard girl said.
“Listening to your music on repeat made me brave enough to come out to my parents,” said a young fox.
“I proposed to my husband after one of your concerts,” said a tall, older horse.
“Even though I could, I was too scared to even think about getting pregnant,” Jared said. “When you came out and said you were, it made me feel like I was less alone.”
Mark sniffed, trying to keep the tears in his eyes and out of his fur. He set a hand on Jared's belly, patting it comfortingly.
“You're right,” He said. “You're not.” Mark felt a few light stirrings beneath his hand, ones that felt so familiar from the inside. “They're starting to move now?”
“They are,” Jared said, proudly. Mark leaned forward, his shirt still rolled up, and pressed his own stomach against Jared's, letting his own unborn child interact with his fan's.
“What species is your fiance?” Mark asked.
“He's a fox,” Jared said. Mark nodded, paused, and then snorted to himself.
“They're...they're 'KitKats,' then?”
The group of fans laughed. Jared smiled and waited for a pause before fishing in his back pocket for a silver magic marker.
“I know this might be strange,” he explained, “but...would you mind...” Jared held out the marker as he lifted the front of his shirt over his growing belly.
“I absolutely would do that for you,” Mark said gratefully as he took the pen. At the same time, he slipped his autograph Sharpie back in his pocket, replacing it with a black, non-stain marker designed for writing on fur. “...But would you mind signing mine, first?”
Jared blinked, his mouth falling open. He nodded, speechless, as he took the marker and wrote out a shaky signature against the bright white fur of Mark's belly, while Mark simultaneously wrote his own practiced autograph against Jared's tightening middle. Backing away, Mark paused before holding up the marker and spinning it in his fingers.
“Who's next?” He asked. When met with shocked silence, he added. “There's plenty of space. Trust me.”
Many of the fans, who had been so nervous before, excitedly clamored forward for a chance at the pen. Eventually, after some squabbling, Mark's belly was marked almost entirely with about twenty to thirty signatures from fans, some of which bleeding into the orange fur at his flanks. He managed to convince Clint to take a photo once they were finished (a photo Mark planned to include in the booklet of Foxglove's next album).
“Okay guys...” Mark yawned, stepping back. “Melody and I are about to crash out. Thank you so much for coming out tonight and...well...” he ran a finger over the signed fur, admiring the number of names on him. “If I managed to leave a mark on you, then it's only fair that you leave one on me, right?” With a final wave, Mark waddled off on sore paws beside Clint, who looked equally exhausted. A chorus of cheers followed them backstage as they walked through the door.
“Wasn't that fun?” Mark asked.
“Sure it was,” Clint said, yawning as well. “But you really know how to please 'em, don't you?”
Mark laid a hand against his stomach, unwilling to roll down his shirt for fear of smearing the signatures.
“...I guess I do.”
Here we go, HERE WE GO. Part 2 of 3! This one is a hair shorter than 1 and 3, so I hope that's alright.
Includes: ultrasounds! fan meet-and-greets! the name of the baby! fangirl doctors! a pregnant fox man! celebrities! drama! suspense! you'll laugh, you'll cry!
As always, comments are my favorite thing in the world. You wouldn't even have to get me a Christmas gift this year
Enjoy!
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The entire staff of Santa Fe Obstetrics was buzzing with excitement that morning, the younger staff especially. The 1 o'clock appointment was approaching steadily. The front desk staff was having trouble paying attention to their regular patients and gossiped to one another at a moment's notice. They shot their heads toward the front door each time it opened, only to be disappointed each time. It was only until 1:18 that their patience finally paid off.
A heavily pregnant Mark Ashton waddled through the door, helped along by his husband and the entirety of Foxglove. What a few months ago was simply extra pudge or a small roundness to his stomach had ballooned out into a fully realized Buddha-belly. Mark was unmistakably pregnant, from the way he walked with his hands supporting his lower back, to the healthy, golden sheen to his fur, and to the glow he radiated from his near constant smile. He wore an extra-large shirt of the band's own tour (purchased from one of their own shows when none of Mark's clothes would fit him anymore) draped over his belly like a particularly short dress.
The nurses, secretaries, and even other waiting patients in the lobby broke into stunned murmurs at the sight of the band. In reality, this is what they wanted to happen. Clint, Renard, and Rikki were there to serve as a distraction to any fans so that Mark could have his appointment in peace. They'd learned in Atlanta that fans were willing to go through any lengths, jump any barriers, or ruin any ultrasounds to get a glimpse at their famous frontman. Unphased at the gawking crowd, Mark simply approached the front desk, walking steadily to adjust to the new weight he'd gained.
“Hi, I've got an appointment for Mark Ashton for 1?” He glanced at the clock. “I'm sorry we're a little late. We...weren't sure where to put the bus.”
The nurse behind the desk simply giggled uncontrollably before passing over a sign-in sheet on a clipboard. Mark began to scribble in his information before glancing over his shoulder to the rest of Foxglove fielding the crowd, signing autographs, and not-so-subtly keeping excited fans away from him.
“You guys alright?”
Clint rolled his eyes dismissively as he turned back.
“This is nothing, man. Go do your thing.”
“You better bring back the fucking pictures this time, too,” Rikki said, a lot louder than she probably should have.
Mark shrugged, continuing to fill out the sheet. Once he was finished, he walked a few feet to the edge of the desk, leaning against the wall with his arm around his belly and panting heavily.
“Are you alright?” Jeremy asked, worried. Mark smiled and shook his head.
“Just...Just a little...winded,” he gasped, waving his arm. “It's...way too damn hot here.” He stood up and clasped his arms around his belly, his fingers just barely able to touch. “If we don't get out of the southwest soon, Melody's gonna be born hard-boiled.”
Jeremy, not as as amused by Mark's joke as he was, turned back to the receptionist, who was excitedly chatting to her friends. “Excuse me,” he said, ignored. He cleared his throat and said louder, “Excuse me. Ma'am.” Before he could speak a third time, Rikki walked up beside him, rapped her knuckles against the desk, and shouted “HEY!” from deep in her throat. When the receptionist and all her friends jumped to their attention, Rikki gave Jeremy an affectionate scratch behind the ear before going off to continue signing autographs.
“Could we have a bottle of water, please?” Jeremy asked, meekly. The receptionist nodded, producing a generic-brand bottle of distilled water from somewhere behind the desk.
“Here,” Jeremy said as he presented it to his exhausted husband. Mark began to suck down the cold water as Jeremy laid a hand against his belly to see if he could feel any kicks.
“Let's hope she puts on a show for the cameras,” Mark gasped, finishing the water.
“If she's really your daughter, she can't resist,” Jeremy snarked, massaging Mark's sore stomach.
From behind them, a door slid quietly open to reveal an old antelope woman holding a clipboard. Instead of calling out a name, she looked directly at Mark and Jeremy to say “We're ready for you.”
The two left the chaos in the lobby to the quiet examination rooms that made up most of the building. They followed the antelope nurse to a station to take basic measurements. Mark closed his eyes as they weighed him, only letting the nurse tell him if it was good or bad. From there, they followed her to a small room with a couple of chairs, a long medical bench, and an unplugged ultrasound machine set up next to it.
The two chatted for a while, after Jeremy had helped Mark up onto the bench, before the door opened to reveal the doctor as a young cocker spaniel woman wearing, above her scrubs, a black t-shirt with the old Foxglove logo from their first album.
“I don't think you're supposed to be wearing that,” Mark teased, pointing to the shirt. The doctor blushed and held her clipboard over her face, turning away to shut the door. Her tail was wagging furiously in excitement. Mark smirked. That had always been a very endearing trait of all his canine friends.
“No...No they...” the doctor cleared her throat to stall. “They told me I could not...but I did. Anyway.”
“Rock on,” Mark nodded, flashing metal horns. “Well, I'm Mark and this is my husband and the father, Jeremy.” Jeremy stood to quietly give a polite nod and shake the doctor's hand.
“Yes! Right, I...I know who both of you are, obviously,” she said, grinning. “I'm Ashley...uh, oh...I mean, Dr. Burke.” She swallowed hard before putting on a composed, professional demeanor.
“Great to meet you, Dr. Burke,” Mark said warmly as he shook her hand. She blinked, trying very hard to maintain her composure as he flashed his very famous grin. Pulling away, Mark grunted as he pushed himself farther back on the medical bench and laid down, pulling back his shirt to expose his filling belly to the cold air.
“A-alright...Let me just...” Dr. Burke set the clipboard down and squeezed into the small space behind the wheeled ultrasound cart. As she bent down to plug it in, her still-wagging tail thumped against the drywall like a drum. Eventually, the small screen turned on and began to boot to life, shortly before the doctor emerged from the floor.
“Oh-kay! We can just wait for this old girl to get ready...” Dr. Burke paused, wringing her hands together, before nervously stammering, “Ok, so, Mr. Ashton, before we start, I want to say that I fought really hard just to be the one to give you this examination because I have been a huge fan for a really long time and this is honestly a dream come true.”
“Then you must have some weird dreams, Ashley,” Mark joked as he rubbed a hand over his belly. “But I'm glad my daughter and I are in good hands, thank you.” He pointed to the shirt again over her scrubs. “So you're a fan of Upside-Down, then?”
“Oh, yeah, I am. But my favorite album is Hair of the Dog.”
“Really?” Mark said, sitting up to look over the mound of stomach in the way. “Nobody ever talks about that album very much. It was actually kind of a bomb in the US.”
“I guess, but it came out after a really hard breakup so, for me, the music really came to me at a time I really needed it, yknow?”
“I do, I do. I had just broken up with my last girlfriend...yknow, before I realized what everybody else had known for years,” he added, quietly taking Jeremy's hand. “I always thought it made the album too sappy but...” Mark shrugged. “I guess not to everybody.”
“No! God, no, not at all.” Dr. Burke sighed deeply. “Foxglove just means...so much to me. Thank you, Mr. Ashton.”
“I'm honored we could make a difference in your life. Thank you, Dr. Burke.” Mark leaned forward as far as he could to shake her hand once more.
“Uhm...I...Is the machine booted up yet?” Jeremy asked quietly.
“Oh!” Dr. Burke exclaimed, shaking herself. “Right! We're almost ready.” Turning to a cabinet in the corner of the small room, Dr. Burke produced a tube of ultrasound gel. Mark threw his hands up in the air.
“Here we go again,” he groaned.
“Just be grateful we don't have to shave your fur, first,” Dr. Burke said as she squeezed a large glob of it into her hands. As she began to spread it evenly over Mark's belly, both he and the belly's occupant jumped simultaneously.
“Fuck, it gets worse every time,” he cursed, making a face in disgust as the fur of his stomach was flattened down with sickening 'squelch' sounds. “It's so cold, ugh!”
“Your belly is getting more sensitive as stretches out,” Dr. Burke explained. “Your fur is getting pulled thin, so the gel gets right to your skin underneath.”
“I'm gonna need to shower forever to get this crap off.” Mark's belly visibly deformed as Melody flipped over in the womb. “She knows what I'm talking about, anyway.”
“Don't be such a baby, it comes out with a washcloth,” Jeremy said.
“I know, I know, but when I get to be this pregnant, I'm allowed to complain about whatever I want.”
“So we got your charts and information this morning from your last doctor,” Dr. Burke interjected as she flipped through her clipboard. “By the time you came in you are...thirty weeks along?” She glanced at Mark's stomach, looking quite a bit bigger than thirty weeks along.
“If my counting is right, yes.” Mark nodded. He leaned back and stared at the ceiling to remember what he'd read in the pregnancy book. “Baby is about as big as a large cabbage and is starting to develop her eyesight. She also weighs about 400 quadrillion fucking pounds and is making my joints turn into putty.”
“Thought of any names yet?”
“Melody,” Jeremy piped in, taking Mark's hand again.
“It was his idea,” Mark added, proudly. “He just said it out of the blue one day and I instantly knew what he was talking about. Like magic.”
“In my professional opinion,” Dr. Burke said, as she pulled out the ultrasound wand, “that's adorable. Ready to take another peek?”
“We are so fucking ready,” Mark grinned as he sat back on the bench and took a deep breath.
As Dr. Burke touched down the wand to Mark's belly, a gray and white image appeared on the screen in the distinctive U-shape he and Jeremy had grown to know so well. She moved the wand gently over his stomach, sliding over the gel to find the lumps beneath that were Melody's arms and legs.
“Now judging by your current size, I am sorry to say, Mark, that you will be carrying big. Male pregnancies tend to produce a slight excess of amniotic fluid for first timers. But beyond general discomfort, you and Melody will be fine.”
“At least we won't have to teach her how to swim,” Mark said.
“Have you been playing her any music?” Dr. Burke asked, keeping conversation going as she tried to find a good position to see the kit from.
“I think she's probably heard enough of Foxglove by now. Sometimes I'll get headphones and play her some of my favorite classical music.” Mark giggled, his belly jiggling, as he tapped Jeremy on the chest. “Remember when Rikki got some of her Sonic Holocaust CDs that made Melody flip the hell out? I thought she was gonna make me pee my pants again. I swear, part of me thinks she actually enjoyed it.” Mark turned back to Dr. Burke. “It's so weird that, like, my stomach basically has ears now. She'll jump at a loud noise or move when I sing to her and it's...basically the most incredible-”
“There she is,” Dr. Burke exclaimed, stopping the wand about two inches below Mark's popped belly button. Shifting to the right, the gray blob on the screen slowly began to take shape into a small muzzle, open mouth, two arms curled against a chest, and the silhouette of a huge, triangular ear the size of her head. Mark gasped and pointed to the screen.
“Look, look!” He yelled, gripping Jeremy on the arm, who was staring just as intently. “Look at her fucking ears! She's got your ears!” Dr. Burke tried to keep the image steady as Mark collapsed into excited laughter mixed with tears welling in his eyes. Melody flipped over from the sudden activity as Mark pulled Jeremy into a torso-high hug, affectionately rubbing and kissing his husband's head. “I love it, I love your big fucking ears...” he cooed.
Once Mark had calmed down, Dr. Burke continued the examination, pointing out all the identifiable points of the baby that they could see from just the simple screen. While doing so, she explained in detail many of the changes Mark had been and would be experiencing in his body to prepare for 'birth.'
“Now, while it is possible for you to give birth through an...existing orifice...” She explained, clearing her throat uncomfortably. “Most carrying fathers opt for a c-section as it is usually the best way to guarantee a safe birth.”
“Will my water break?” Mark asked. “How will I know 'the time is now?'”
“Most women...or I should say, most carriers feel the labor coming on long before the amniotic sac actually breaks. But should it come down to it, yes, your water can still break and leak from…your genitals.”
Mark made a face in discomfort.
“The miracle of birth is beautiful, but nobody said it would be clean.” Dr. Burke smiled, gripping Mark's hand confidently. “You're going to be fine. Any doctor worth their degree is well-familiar with male birth. It's not like it was ten years ago.” Taking off her gloves, she set aside the ultrasound wand back in the basket it came in. “Well, that should be it! I'll give you my card before you go in case you have more questions.”
“Don't lie,” Mark smirked. “You just want me in your phone contacts.”
“That's not not true...”
As she stood up from her stool and Jeremy began to help Mark up to a sitting position, he stopped both of them.
“Wait,” Mark said, holding out a hand. “Can...can I hear her?”
“Of course,” Dr. Burke said, sitting back down and pulling out a separate wand from the machine. “The doppler is easier than the ultrasound. Just lie back down.”
Mark did so, resting his hands on his chest and out of the way.
“I meant to ask at my last checkup back in Tuscon, but I forgot.”
Without another word, Dr. Burke set the tip of the wand to Mark's belly, producing a sound from the screen that wasn't dissimilar to a shell on the beach, but much deeper. He and Jeremy remained silent, both straining their sizable ears to hear anything different. Then, after a few seconds, Mark's more trained hearing caught a small, yet discernible rhythm of a heartbeat, separate from his own. He stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, listening to Melody's heart pound away inside of him. He laid his hands against his belly, almost sure he could feel it through the tips of his fingers. The first spark of life, growing into something powerful.
“It's...it's so loud,” Jeremy said, amazed. “I didn't think it would be so-” He stopped as he turned to Mark, who was lying back on the bench cushion with his eyes closed, two streams of tears dripping from beneath his lids. He tapped on his belly to the rhythm of the fetal heartbeat, like a metronome, and was silently mouthing words to himself.
“Mark?”
“Hmm?” Mark mumbled, snapping his eyes open and wiping the tears from his cheeks. He sniffed. “What? I was...wow...” He sighed, sitting up as far as was possible. “That...that was her.”
“Yes it was,” Jeremy said, grinning.
As Mark came back to his senses, Dr. Burke left to go find them a washcloth. Returning, she found him back on his feet and talking quietly with his husband, hands atop his belly.
“Hey, you coming to the show tonight?” Mark asked, taking the rag.
“I can't...” Dr. Burke shrugged. “It's too expensive. Plus, it sold out in like a couple days.”
“Too expensive?” Mark said, spitting out the words like they tasted bad. “Wait here a minute.” Pulling out his phone, he used his left hand to gently wipe the ultrasound gel from his fur and his right to dial a number.
“Hey, Sheldon, it's Mark,” he spoke into the receiver. “We're in Santa Fe. Do you have the number for who's running the venue?” A pause. “Okay, cool. Get 'em to set aside a VIP pass for a friend of mine in town.” Another pause. Dr. Burke's heart nearly stopped. “Yeah. Name's Ashley Burke. You got that? It's gotta be done tonight.” One more pause as she sat down in a chair next to the door to keep from collapsing. “It's a personal favor, alright? I'll call 'em myself if- Okay, yeah. Good. Thanks a lot.” Mark ended the call and slipped the phone back in his pocket before pulling his shirt back over his belly.
“So. See you tonight?” He said. Stunned, Dr. Burke simply nodded. “Good. I might need a doctor in the house.” Mark jotted down his cell number on the back of one of her business cards and handed it over. “Let me know if there's any trouble, alright?” He patted his stomach. “Melody and I thank you, doctor.”
The growing family walked back to the lobby, with a new spring in Mark's heavy step that he hadn't come in with an hour ago.
*************************************************************
The Denver venue was a lot smaller than most typical Foxglove shows, but it was the ideal that Mark wanted from the tour. Intimate. Smaller. More personal. It was small enough that Mark wasn't exhausted from performing. His favorite new luxury was meeting fans after the show, something that the band wouldn't be able to do at big arena concerts. It was a great reminder to when they were just getting started, when the crowds weren't so dense and Mark himself was one fox baby lighter.
After sucking down four bottles of water in quick succession and pouring the fifth over his head, Mark left his backstage dressing room about half an hour after the night's show had ended and made his way toward the lobby instead of the back door. Jeremy had stayed for the show, but needed to go be alone for a while in the bus to calm down. In his place, Clint tagged along to assist his growing bandmate and to meet a few fans of his own.
“How long does this usually take?” Clint groaned, flexing his fingers from a long night of plucking his bass.
“It depends on the crowd, really,” Mark said. “Sometimes all they want are autographs. There are a few people that just want to chat, which I guess isn't always bad. It's like...more casual than an autograph session, but less casual than if we get recognized at a restaurant.”
“Can't say I'm a fan of either of those,” Clint grumbled, scratching behind his ear. He pointed to Mark's heavy middle. “So...Do I...need to kind of...watch people around...uh...you?”
“Nah, they usually ask first,” Mark said, waving a hand dismissively. “Sometimes people sneak in surprise rubs or pats or something, but that goes with the territory. A lot of the girls like to feel Melody kick, now that she can, so that's kinda cute.”
“Yeah...” Clint nodded, uncomfortably. “It, uh...sounds like it.”
The two walked quietly to the lobby exit, Clint slowing down to keep pace with Mark's slower and heavier waddle. As they neared the doors, Mark sighed, stopping in his tracks and pulling on Clint's shoulder to do the same.
“What's going on with you lately?” Mark asked. He gestured to his stomach. “It's this, isn't it?”
“I...Eh...” Clint fiddled with one of his ears and flicked his tail dismissively. “I guess. It's just getting...kinda weird, yknow?”
“What do you mean by weird?” Mark asked, hurt flickering across his face.
“I just...when this started, I thought we were gonna have something new in common. And we are but...” He sighed, trying to get the words out right. “It's bizarre seeing you in the same way Caroline was when she was pregnant. Sometimes I forget to still call you 'he.' I think about how my best friend of twelve years is going to be a mother now.” Clint shrugged. “And I just don't know how to take it.”
“What makes you think we won't have something in common?” Mark said. “And...yknow, I get it. This isn't the 'normal' way to have a baby, but no matter how it goes, we're still both gonna be dads. Melody and Charlie are gonna be best friends, we can sit out by the pool and drink and hang out while watching them. In a month or two, all of this,” Mark held his belly with both arms, “isn't gonna matter.”
Clint shook his head and sighed again.
“I know, I know. My brain knows that, but the rest of me doesn't know what to think.”
“Well, what did you think when I came out?” Mark asked, leaning against the wall to take some of the weight off his paws.
“I was okay with it,” Clint shrugged. Before he could continue, Mark pointed at him and shook a finger.
“Ah ah ah, not at first you weren't. I tried talking to you for a week after I came out of the closet and you barely looked at me. But you got over it.”
“Well...yeah, I...” Clint folded his arms and scuffed a paw on the ground. “Yknow, I'm...kind of ashamed of that now, I guess.”
“I know you are, man. Look, Melody's gonna be out of me before either of us know it. Then things can go back to normal. But until then, I'm gonna enjoy my pregnancy.” Groaning, Mark rocked back to his feet and massaged his lower back. “We're wasting time, let's talk about it later.”
Mark re-adjusted his extra-large shirt over his extra-large middle before he and Clint exited through the lobby doors of the music hall, instead of the back door the rest of the band took. Scattered, individual groups of tired, dirty, but ecstatic Foxglove fans chatted excitedly to one another about the show. When a couple fans closest to the door spotted Mark and Clint, they gasped loudly, drawing the attention of the rest of the room. Suddenly, an exhilarated rush of paws, tails, messy fur, and overpriced band shirts flocked toward them to form a small crowd.
“Hey guys!” Mark called cheerfully, scanning the packed group of wide-eyed faces excitedly vying for his attention. Though Clint was similarly rushed buy fans, the group around Mark kept a noticeable and nervous distance between them and his ponderous belly. “Give us a little space, alright?” Mark said, taking advantage of their hesitation to shuffle from the door to the middle of the lobby, beside the closed ticket booth. The fan group followed him dutifully, keeping together a vague circle. Standing on his toes, Mark locked eyes with Clint, who was chatting and signing the CDs of a few fans on his own. Mark raised a concerned eyebrow, to which Clint responded with a reassuring thumbs-up.
“Mark!” called a high voice on his left. A skinny snow-leopard girl in a tour tank top pushed through and bounced up and down excitedly at his side. “Mark! Mar- Mr. Ashton! Your show was amazing! I saw you guys in Chicago a few years ago, but this was the best show I've ever seen!”
“That's really nice of you to say,” Mark smiled to her, automatically shuffling to her side as she pulled out her phone, anticipating a picture. “We're kind of getting tired of the big concerts these days. I like the ones where I can actually see you crazy assholes jumping up and down.” The group laughed before the girl approached Mark's side and held out her cell phone camera. Without missing a beat, he flashed a practiced, toothy smile and made sure to hold it for a few seconds before the girl backed away, thanking him profusely.
“Yoooo, Mark Ashton!” said a tall, slightly chubby lion to his left. He held up his hand to grip Mark's shoulder, who instead countered it with a hi-five. “You guys fuckin killed tonight, man!”
“Thanks! I'm glad you thought so!” Mark said, silently wondering how this bro-y guy outside their demographic found his way into the show.
“No, seriously man, I loved it,” the lion continued. “You did 'Broken Glass' acoustic. That shit is my jam, man.” The lion suddenly and shamelessly took of his shirt, drawing the attention of the group's women and a few men to his bulky physique. “Could you sign my shirt, man?”
“Uh...Y-yeah! I'd be happy to,” Mark said, pausing slightly at his forward behavior. Taking the shirt, Mark draped it over his belly like a shelf so he could use both hands to dig into his pockets to find the sharpie. They chuckled at the action, to which he rolled his eyes. “I gotta get some use out of the belly, don't I?”
Finally finding the marker, he signed near the left shoulder of the lion's shirt and passed it back to him. The large fan whooped happily before pumping his fist in the air and leaving the crowd to go talk to Clint.
“How are you feeling?” a small otter girl asked. Mark huffed, laying a hand on his belly.
“It's not getting any easier,” he said. “We do a lot of acoustic songs because I just don't have the energy to keep up, otherwise. Plus, my lungs are kinda squished. But other than that, it's been fine. She's been kicking and flipping around all the time, but it's still cute. It's like I have a little cheerleader inside me.” The fans laughed.
“C-Could I...would it be okay to feel?” the otter asked timidly, holding out a hand.
“Of course!” Mark exclaimed, rolling up his shirt welcomingly to expose the white globe to his fans. At first, only a few gently poked his stomach gingerly before laying their palms flat against him. But after a moment, at least a dozen different fans had their hands against Mark's belly, in awe of both what they felt and who they felt it on. After a moment, Melody hiccuped inside his womb, causing a number of fans to gasp and excitedly giggle at the small movement. Mark himself sighed comfortingly, the numerous, gentle hands against his middle bringing him a sense of ease.
“Does she have a name yet?” asked a young wolf with a high voice, who was currently massaging his fingers through Mark's belly fur beside his navel.
“Melody!” he said, simultaneously with a few other voices in the crowd, who had evidently seen the update on his Twitter. “Jeremy came up with it a few months ago.”
“Is he coming out here?” The otter girl asked excitedly. Mark frowned and shook his head as a few other hands found a space against his belly.
“He's...not comfortable around crowds. Plus, he's not technically a member of Foxglove. He probably wouldn’t want to.” A number of faces and ears drooped, disappointed. Jeremy had apparently gained a kind of fan following of his own. Mark wondered if this would make his husband happy or even more nervous. He lost his train of thought as Melody kicked out and turned over beneath the all the hands, making a visible bulge against the outside of his belly. The fans giggled and gasped as she did while Mark chuckled at their reactions.
“But I think this little girl is going to grow up to be an attention lover,” Mark bragged as Melody continued to kick and squirm. “She loves when we talk to her or give her attention from the outside.”
“That is so cute,” said the snow-leopard girl, who was feeling Mark's belly with both hands from his right side.
“It's not as cute when she hits organs she shouldn't,” Mark sighed. “A note to any of you who wanna get pregnant one day: you will pee your pants. It's not an if, it's a when. Remember that.”
After a few minutes, and a few more coos and gasps from the fans as Melody continued to shift around, they pulled their hands away and resumed a regular meet-and-greet, though the group spoke much more comfortably to Mark. He hated when people treated him with total awe like he was a king. If he needed to do something weird in order to break the ice, he was happy to do so.
Right as he finished signing a CD of a younger fan and pointing out his favorite songs, a tall, gray-furred cat politely pushed his way toward the middle of the crowd and tapped Mark on the shoulder. Mark wasn't one to be rude to a fan, but he was very resistant to their pokes and prods. So as he handed back the CD to the fan and hi-fived him, Mark turned to the cat, next.
“Hey, what's up!?” Mark greeted cheerfully, extending his right hand to shake while his left went to massage his sore lower back.
“H-hi, Mr. Ashton,” the cat said softly, shaking his hand nervously. He didn't look much older than his early twenties, if even that. “I was...I really wanted to meet you and t-talk to you.”
“Totally! Of course you can. What's your name?”
“I-I'm Jared,” he said, stepping forward through the row of fans that was blocking him. His eyes were a striking shade of jade green, made all the more so in contrast to his dull fur.
“Great to meet you, Jared. Did you like the show?”
“I...You...This show...” Jared took a deep breath to regain his composure. “I loved the concert tonight, but your entire tour has changed my life, Mark. I...just...I really wanted to meet you before...” Jared's eyes glanced downward.
“Before I very rapidly lose some weight?” Mark joked, to the laughter of others. Jared himself smiled, still nervously.
“Well, yes, that too. I just wanted to meet you and tell you how much you and Foxglove and your music means to me.” Jared swallowed again, but Mark simply listened. “My...I grew up in a very unwelcoming household where I never felt like I would fit in. I was the middle of a litter, so I never felt like much attention was given to me beyond my more outgoing brothers and sisters. I listened to your music a lot growing up, mostly Upside-Down, and it meant a lot to me. You...I was just graduating high school when you came out of the closet and you gave me the courage to...to do the same and discover the parts of myself I was hiding all my life. And it's because of you and your music that I'm able to finally accept who I am and meet my amazing fiance.”
“That...” Mark spoke, but didn't have words to say. He swallowed. “That's...It's amazing that...what I've done has meant so much to you. Thank you for telling me that, Jared. Really.”
“Of course. My partner and I are both huge fans. And when you announced your pregnancy and this tour...well...” Jared grinned sheepishly. “You helped give us the courage to do the same.”
Jared looked down, bashfully averting his eyes. Mark followed his gaze and nearly jumped when he noticed the cat's own distinct, round, volleyball-sized baby belly near inches from his own.
“Oh...oh!” Mark exclaimed, everything suddenly falling into place. “You...oh my God!” Mark laughed excitedly, leaning forward an inch or so to let the front of his belly bump against Jared's. “That's- Congratulations! So you...you decided to have a baby because of me?”
“We just thought that your tour announcement might help make our kinds of pregnancies more accepted. I thought about you gave me the courage to accept I was gay, so this just seemed like the next step to me.” Jared caressed his smaller belly lovingly with both arms. “So yeah, we decided to have a baby...Though we didn't really decide on three of them.”
“Holy shit,” Mark cursed. “Triplets? I...I am so sorry.”
“Don't be. We thought it might be a possibility. One of them is a boy, so we're going to name him Mark.”
“You-” Mark stammered, his eyes welling up with thick tears. “You're going to name your son after me?” He sniffed and wiped his eyes dry. “I don't know what to say...Thank you...I'm just...I'm happy I made a difference.” He looked around at the curious eyes still watching him. “Did...Did I really inspire some of you?”
Nearly every person in the small crowd nodded.
“'Moonrise' helped me learn to stop cutting myself,” the snow-leopard girl said.
“Listening to your music on repeat made me brave enough to come out to my parents,” said a young fox.
“I proposed to my husband after one of your concerts,” said a tall, older horse.
“Even though I could, I was too scared to even think about getting pregnant,” Jared said. “When you came out and said you were, it made me feel like I was less alone.”
Mark sniffed, trying to keep the tears in his eyes and out of his fur. He set a hand on Jared's belly, patting it comfortingly.
“You're right,” He said. “You're not.” Mark felt a few light stirrings beneath his hand, ones that felt so familiar from the inside. “They're starting to move now?”
“They are,” Jared said, proudly. Mark leaned forward, his shirt still rolled up, and pressed his own stomach against Jared's, letting his own unborn child interact with his fan's.
“What species is your fiance?” Mark asked.
“He's a fox,” Jared said. Mark nodded, paused, and then snorted to himself.
“They're...they're 'KitKats,' then?”
The group of fans laughed. Jared smiled and waited for a pause before fishing in his back pocket for a silver magic marker.
“I know this might be strange,” he explained, “but...would you mind...” Jared held out the marker as he lifted the front of his shirt over his growing belly.
“I absolutely would do that for you,” Mark said gratefully as he took the pen. At the same time, he slipped his autograph Sharpie back in his pocket, replacing it with a black, non-stain marker designed for writing on fur. “...But would you mind signing mine, first?”
Jared blinked, his mouth falling open. He nodded, speechless, as he took the marker and wrote out a shaky signature against the bright white fur of Mark's belly, while Mark simultaneously wrote his own practiced autograph against Jared's tightening middle. Backing away, Mark paused before holding up the marker and spinning it in his fingers.
“Who's next?” He asked. When met with shocked silence, he added. “There's plenty of space. Trust me.”
Many of the fans, who had been so nervous before, excitedly clamored forward for a chance at the pen. Eventually, after some squabbling, Mark's belly was marked almost entirely with about twenty to thirty signatures from fans, some of which bleeding into the orange fur at his flanks. He managed to convince Clint to take a photo once they were finished (a photo Mark planned to include in the booklet of Foxglove's next album).
“Okay guys...” Mark yawned, stepping back. “Melody and I are about to crash out. Thank you so much for coming out tonight and...well...” he ran a finger over the signed fur, admiring the number of names on him. “If I managed to leave a mark on you, then it's only fair that you leave one on me, right?” With a final wave, Mark waddled off on sore paws beside Clint, who looked equally exhausted. A chorus of cheers followed them backstage as they walked through the door.
“Wasn't that fun?” Mark asked.
“Sure it was,” Clint said, yawning as well. “But you really know how to please 'em, don't you?”
Mark laid a hand against his stomach, unwilling to roll down his shirt for fear of smearing the signatures.
“...I guess I do.”
Category Story / Pregnancy
Species Vulpine (Other)
Size 92 x 120px
File Size 63.3 kB
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