Author's Note

So, here it is: the sequel to "Is This Never Ending." For those of you who have read these stories before, you know that this is boy x boy, and if you don't like it, then don't waste your time reading it please. This story also contains mpreg, which we all very well know is impossible, but this is Fanfiction, so keep that in mind as you're reading that I know exactly how strange this all is. XD I hope that you guys will enjoy the story and read and review when you have finished. Thanks for taking the time to look at this!

And I do NOT own Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, or any of its characters.

Prologue

Mac stood in the break room with the other members of the crew. He held in his grasp what was his third glass of water that day since he had been so bored. In the corner, Nic Dawson stood, and he was hurriedly emailing people using his phone. Mac sighed heavily and gave a nod to one of the cameramen that were passing by.

His friends, Denise and Reggy, were finishing up an interview with a reporter. Mac hadn't been doing any interviews since he had broken up with Bloo. For the most part, he tagged along for support. The campaign for F-H Sexuals had really been picking up the pace ever since they took it abroad.

It had been a while now since Mac had abandoned what he left back in America: his family, his job, his apartment, and most importantly, Bloo. Their breakup hadn't been the worst, because it was a mutual decision by the two of them, but it still left an ache in his heart.

Mac leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He had been feeling pretty tired lately, but that was most likely from the fact that he had been going out and staying late every night, then waking up really early in the morning to head out.

England was a pretty cool place to be though. On their days off, they had gone to see some major tourist attractions. They had passed by Buckingham Palace, walked through the British Museum and National Gallery, and had ridden to the top of the London Eye. Everything was gorgeous and completely unforgettable… but Mac regretted not being able to share it with somebody he loved. Bloo might not have loved it as much as he did, but at least he would have been there.

As soon as the interview had ended, they headed back "home" to their hotel room after quickly grabbing a bite from a local eatery. Mac stopped and picked up some extra snacks for later on tonight—roughly three bags of chips.

Genietta, who was a worm like imaginary friend with luxurious long red hair and a pair of oversized black glasses, laid stretched out on one of the beds, while Issac was reading a book in the corner. Issac and Genietta were practically mirror images of each other: same clothing choices, same red hair, same glasses.

Denise let out a relieved sigh as she flopped down onto her bed, removing her heels off of her feet and rubbing them.

"Ahh, I don't know why I even wore these shoes!" she cried out. "They hurt my feet so bad…!"

"They look sexy on you, baby," Reggy said as he headed into the restroom.

Denise smiled. "Well thank you doll, but I think I'll opt for some tennis shoes tomorrow if we're not doing an interview."

Nic shook his head. "We are."

"Shoot," she grumbled, flopping down on the bed.

Mac ripped open one of the chip bags and started idly munching on some of the chips. Denise laughed.

"Mac, we just ate," she half protested, half teased. "Why don't you slow down a little bit?"

"I'm still kind of hungry," Mac answered with a shrug.

"Oh baby, I wouldn't be eating like that. You know if you're depressed and you eat, you gain a lot more weight?"

Mac shot her a look. "I'm not depressed."

Denise said nothing more, but just continued to smile. Mac headed over to the mini fridge that they kept and stowed the chips inside rather huffily, and withdrew a bottle of water to drink. He guzzled it down.

"There, zero calories," Mac said, glaring. "Happy?"

"Chill out, man," Issac said in his strangely deep yet nasally voice. He put the bookmark in between two pages. "Don't get your boxers in a bunch."

Mac rolled his eyes and flopped down on his own bed which was off in the corner. He felt bad for being so crabby, but he couldn't help it.
That night he ate the whole bag of chips in his emotional confusion and then went to bed early. He pulled the covers up over his head and tried to sleep while the others played cards and kept the TV on at a low volume.

His dreams were riddled with memories of Bloo and his mind circulated back to the old hopes for the future that he had once had. A house… a better job… a couple of kids… the kind of cookie cutter American lifestyle that he had always wanted to have… they brought him into a deep sleep that had he been mostly conscious, he would have wanted to stay in forever.

As the weeks progressed, Mac continued his sort of moping attitude, not really engaging himself in anything, but when he was urged to, playing along just so to not worry the others. The other two couples covered interview after interview, and on the weekends, they would visit other clusters of F-Hs that had gathered in various areas of the United Kingdom and would extend their support and expand their network.

Mac found himself gaining weight from the excessive eating that he had been doing. He woke up in the mornings and found that his stomach hung out awkwardly over his pants, but that didn't mean he wanted to stop eating all of those things like chips. He had a major craving for sugar, but he avoided it so as not to make himself crazy, and in turn his abstinence made him crabby.

His friends' concern for him quickly went away when they started to see that Mac was starting to return to normal, just a little moody here and there, and oddly hungrier. Some of them even poked at his weight.

"You look so weird," Denise said one day with a giggle. "Everywhere else you're pretty skinny, and then here…" she motioned over his stomach, "all your excess weight is going there. You're like, pregnant."

"Hardy har har." Mac rolled his eyes and tried to pull down his shirt over his stomach a little more. "Pregnant women don't gain weight this quickly."

Issac, who had been reading a book as he usually did, looked up and blinked. "Actually, it is kind of weird that your body weight is all focusing there. I thought that all that eating was because of your breakup with Bloo… but that was three months ago."

"I'm not obsessed over that anymore," Mac protested, crossing his arms.

"Exactly. But you're still feeling hungry?"

Mac nodded.

"But you've been sick in the mornings too."

Everyone in the room now turned to look at Mac with completely perplexed and slightly awe struck looks on their faces. Mac's eyes darted around at his friends. He laughed nervously.

"Oh come on, you guys. I've been feeling a little bit under the weather… Nothing's been going on."

"Mac," Issac announced, "I think that you should go and see a doctor."

Mac's eyes narrowed. "You're being ridiculous. You all are right now."

Denise rubbed her arm, biting her lip. "It is… kind of odd, isn't it?"

"I'm probably just sick. Look, if it really bugs you to have a fatty traveling with you, I'll go out jogging in the mornings."

"Moodiness," Genietta noted, her glasses sliding down her flat face a little bit.

Mac threw his hands up in the air. "You're nuts! I'm fine, okay?"

His friends stared back at him. Issac smirked.

"Prove it."

Mac opened his mouth, and then clamped it shut. He narrowed his eyes.

"Alright, fine. I'll prove it."

Mac sat in the doctor's office, wearing one of those gaudy God awful hospital gowns, on one of those seriously uncomfortable beds with paper drifted across the surface. He bit his lip and twiddled his thumbs. He had managed to schedule an appointment the day after the conversation with his friends, and they all accompanied him.

Just then the door opened and in walked a thin female doctor with a blond ponytail. She looked up from her clipboard and smiled.

"Hello, Mac. I'm Stephanie Crawson," she said, outstretching her hand. He shook it. "So… what are you here for exactly?"

"Well…" Mac laughed, meek. "This is awkward… um, so lately… well for the past three months… I've been eating excessively, have been kind of moody, and just for a little bit I've been getting sick in the mornings. My friends think I'm… pr…um…"

Dr. Crawson tilted her head to one side, not understanding. But then again, how could she? What he was about to ask her was completely ridiculous.

"My friends think I'm pregnant. But that's not possible," Mac said, biting his lip. "Right?"

"Well…" she reached out and felt his stomach, and frowned. "Hmm…"

She stood back and placed her hands on her hips, directly above the pockets of her crisp white lab coat. "You want to do an ultrasound?"

Mac swallowed. "Okay. I guess."

"Your stomach does look a little… odd," Stephanie admitted. "It's probably just some sort of abnormal growth, if anything. Or maybe nothing. But you want to prove it to your friends…"

"Yeah. A picture would definitely prove it to them."

Mac allowed Stephanie to lead him down the hallway into a windowless room. He laid down on a bed, and he pulled up his gown to uncover his stomach. Dr. Crawson applied some gel, and using the application for the ultrasound screening device, smoothed it over his stomach. She then flicked the machine on and let it boot up.

"Okay…" she murmured, moving the stick around.

Mac tried to turn his head to look at the screen but couldn't really see it clearly. He saw Crawson's brow furrow, as if in deep concentration. Her mouth parted slightly, and she closed it, shaking her head.

"Um… okay… This is strange…" She reached over and fiddled with some controls. "I… um…"

Mac heard this odd thump-thump-thump noise echo out from the machine. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach.

"Oh God. Tell me…"

"It's…"

She moved the stick up, to a heartbeat with a different pace. Then she moved it back down. Two different heartbeats.

Her mouth hanging open, she nodded.

"You." she moved it up. "Baby." She moved it down. "You." the stick slivered back up his body, retracing its path.

"I get it!" Mac clenched his jaw.

Stephanie switched a few buttons and then turned off of the machine and Mac pulled his gown back down to his knees. She bit her lip and drummed her hands across the tops of her thighs.

"You're that man that was in love with his imaginary friend weren't you?"

"Yes. We broke up three months ago."

Stephanie crossed her arms. "Okay, well let's think about this… biologically. Based off of the size of the fetus from what I could see, you're three months along. Did you have sex with him three months ago?"

Mac's mind wandered back, filtering through his memories. A sad look crossed his face as he had remembered the last time they made love, a week before their break up. He sat up, and nodded slowly, emotionless.

"Well… maybe that contributed to it?" she suggested. "But that doesn't make sense, since you're… um… a man. And he's a man too… And on top of that, he's an imaginary friend… so I doubt that you two could have…"

"Crossed species like that?"

"Pretty much, yes." She sighed heavily. " And uh… you're both men; that's not supposed to be biologically possible. Wow. This is confusing. Um… here, Mac…" she passed him something that came out of the machine. It was a picture of the fetus, a dark black shadow suspended against the harsh gray background.

She pointed to a line connected to the figure. "That's the umbilical cord. The baby appears to be concealed in a sac that your body produced somehow. The sac is serving as a substitute for a uterus. That's just what I can make out. That's how the baby is alive. 'Course, you know, without surgical removal, I can't know." She rolled over to a desk and hastily squirted green antibacterial gel onto her hands. She rubbed her hands together wickedly fast. "A baby can't survive without some certain things…"

Mac peered at the picture suspiciously. It looked like a normal human baby, from what he could tell. But then again, what the hell did he know about babies? He figured he was a part of the gender that created kids, not the gender that had the daunting task of carrying them. Somewhere along the line, he had gotten screwed over where he wasn't supposed to.

"That's your baby," she murmured, looking at the picture closely from the other side. "Mac… I know that a lot of things must be going through your head right now. I don't even know how this could have happened. I'm going to do some research, call up some of my colleagues, and call you back in here tomorrow."

She got up, cleaning up her work station, and then Mac stood up as well.

"What should I do?"

Stephanie glanced back over towards him. Mac seemed frustrated, his face contorted in confusion and slight anger.

"Excuse me?"

"Should I… Should I get rid of it?" he asked her.

"I think that's up to you. I could perform an abortion, if you like," she suggested openly. "I'm still going to do what I said I would do, however."

Mac nodded, biting his lip. He had broken up with Bloo. He thought that he wouldn't associate with him again, or at least for a long time. What was he supposed to do now? Call him up and tell him?

With an arm reassuringly placed across his shoulders, Dr. Crawson led Mac all the way back to the waiting room. Reggy was flipping through a magazine while Denise filed her nails, and as usual the bookworms were reading, and Nic was going through things on his phone. All at once, their heads rose to look up at Mac.

Mac nervously smiled and held up a photo. "Come take a look."

Nic was the first to get up and walk over. He peered at the photo.

"Holy crap." He whispered.

The others thundered over and gathered around, staring at the photo.

"So I was right?" Issac blinked in disbelief.

"Yes," Mac said in a harsh, quiet voice. "You were right."

Denise gave him a pitying look. Mac stood there, feeling sort of numb for some odd reason. Genietta and Denise clustered by him, not saying anything or touching at him, but remaining focused on him. Nic was busy discussing things with the doctor. After they made an appointment for tomorrow at the same time, they all left and walked the long way back to the apartment.

Mac had his hands shoved in his pockets and had his eyes focused on the pavement and the tips of his shoes as he walked along. When they entered the apartment he went over and sat down on the bed, facing the window. He clasped his hands together and silently watched the world outside.

He thought about Bloo. Thought about his smile, the color of his skin, the way he walked, talked, the way he kissed him and held him… and he felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He pressed his wrists to his eyes, trying to force the tears back, but he couldn't. Silently the tears trickled down his cheeks.

"Oh, baby," Denise whispered, coming over and hugging him. "It's going to be okay, sweetheart. It's going to be okay…"

Mac shook his head. "It's not going to be okay." He looked at her. "I can't go back to him, Denise. And I can't tell him. I just can't."

"You don't have to," she murmured to him, removing a paper napkin from her purse. She wiped at the streams of tears. "You don't, sweetie. We can make this work."

Mac felt the warmth of his friends surround him, in an overwhelming hug, filling him up with their love and support. A glimmer of hope seemed to linger now.

The next day, when Mac was led down the hallway by a nurse, he was in a larger examination room, and more doctors were present (about three), along with Dr. Crawson. When Mac entered, their heads all automatically turned sharply to look at him. Mac felt like he was in one of those nightmares where he stood naked in front of his entire graduating class, except that dream was less humiliating. This was an all time record setter for the most embarrassing situation.

"Hello, Mac." Dr. Crawson stepped forward. "One of my associates… this is Dr. Rivers. He's an expert in mental health, and he also specializes in taking care of imaginary friends. He thinks he knows a cause behind your condition."

Dr. Rivers was an old man that looked like he might have been slightly senile. He had thinning and unkempt white hair on his head and for sideburns, accompanied with a goatee. His small glasses perched perfectly on his crooked nose. In his grasp, he carried a rather thick book.

"There have actually been two other cases reported, Mr. Evans," he boomed, his loud voice startling the others. "Here…"

He opened the book and touched his tongue to his thumb and vigorously flipped through the pages. He searched through for a moment, and then passed the book back over to Mac. Mac took the heavy book and peered down at the pages.

"A case was reported in Switzerland in 1805," he told him. "A troubled young man had fallen in love with his imaginary friend that he had created. When he was around the age of sixteen, he had nonconsensual intercourse with this friend, and managed to impregnate her. A doctor had questioned him about how this had been possible, and he had responded that he had 'imagined' it to happen.

"Another case occurred later, in 1935 in Russia, except the roles were reversed: the woman was impregnated by the imaginary friend. Intercourse was reported, and also, the process of imagining it."

Mac blinked. "But… But I didn't imagine for a baby to happen."

Dr. Rivers cocked his head to one side and frowned. "Well you must have imagined something relatively close to that. That's the only way that this could have happened. Biological isn't enough. It needs an overactive imagination in addition to this." he crossed his arms.

Mac shook his head, returning the book to the doctor. "No. I grew up a pretty normal kid. Bloo wasn't that imaginative. He's a blob, for goodness sake."

The doctor pursed his lips. "Well, have you noticed anything odd about your imaginary friend?"

"Bloo? No. I mean, other than his personality…"

Dr. Crawson stepped forward. "I think that I can explain, Mac." She cleared her throat. "Signs of an overactive imagination are pretty obvious once you know about them. If you possess an overactive imagination, that doesn't necessarily mean that you come up with the craziest friends that you can find, or produce multiple imaginary friends.

"If your imaginary friend happens to have a complex personality, or some types of physical or mental disorders that generally apply to humans, such as autism; can add on appendages or traits after their creation, or even growth in an imaginary friend after creation means that its creator has an overactive imagination."

Mac gasped slightly, his mind flipping far back, close to four years ago, when he and Bloo had been in that store on his campus… He had thought that Bloo looked oddly as tall as him. And Bloo's personality did seem a tad bit too varying since Mac had created him at the age of three.

Mac's hopes for the future must have somehow interfered. That was the only time he could think of when he had thoughts that resembled a "baby."

"W-wow. I… I guess I must have imagined it."

Dr. Rivers nodded, smiling sadly. "I'm afraid so." He crossed his arms. "Of course, we don't know for certain yet, since this is an incredibly rare occurrence. But based off of the evidence…" his fingers drummed against the book. "Well, that's all that I can think of."

The room fell silent for a moment. Then Dr. Crawson spoke up.

"Mac. Did you say that you wanted to abort the child?"

"I…" Mac bit his lip. "I don't think I do. Unless it's going to cause permanent damage or kill me, I don't…"

"It could cause damage to your organs," Crawson admitted. "But we could fix that. We can figure out a way around all of the most confusing parts. That sac that the baby is in should hold for a few months till we can figure it out."

"Are you going to make me give birth?"

Crawson laughed and shook her head. "No. There's no possible way for you to give birth. We'll have to perform… a C section I suppose, to remove the child and transfer it into something."

She gestured with a sweep of her arm to another man, who appeared to be of some sort of Russian descent.

"This is Dr. Krostnov," she said. "He specializes in artificial births—in vitro, cloning. If you want to keep the child, he's the one that's going to figure out how to grow it."

Mac looked around at them. "Then… how much time do I have?"

"Three more months maximum," Dr. Rivers answered sternly.

Six months along… Mac thought, swallowing at the image of him in his head with an even larger stomach than he had now.

"You are sure you don't want an abortion?"

"No, I do not," Mac stated firmly.

He couldn't believe he had said it… but when he was the third case ever in recorded history to have something like this happen, it was hard to say, "No."

All at once the doctors began talking hurriedly, excessively, using vocabulary that Mac didn't understand. He leaned back against the wall, his hands shoved in the pockets of his pants, and he waited patiently for them to finish.

When they had, Crawson walked him down the hallway and talked about what books he should buy in order to assure a healthy pregnancy and other basics. She handed Mac several pamphlets and told him to take them, and then told him that she would be contacting him very soon to make another appointment.

Mac went home that night feeling incredibly exhausted. He used the restroom a couple of times and flopped down on his bed.

It's hard now. It's probably not going to get better, he thought, closing his eyes. It's just going to get harder… But… I think it'll be worth it.

The next three months were filled with even more appointments, a couple of surgeries, and generally just a lot of running around. Rushing from interview to appointment, Mac exhausted himself rather quickly. Shopping was a pain as well, and then there were all those books that Mac had to read. All the while he grew bigger in the stomach, and slightly bigger in the feet as well. He sometimes woke up feeling like a balloon.

The media didn't find out about Mac's pregnancy because he wasn't the one in the limelight anymore, and no one released the information to the press. Mac was stressed enough as it was. He didn't need interviews begging for a quote or reporters shoving a microphone in his face.

Some days were better, other days were worse. Mac found a lot of days were just in between, but the anxiety that had come with originally finding out about this had slowly receded to the back of his mind.

A couple of days before his final surgery to remove the baby, Mac was laying in bed, reading a book while the others watched TV. Mac, with a small smile, finished the last page and then with a yawn, set it on the nightstand and snuggled down underneath the covers of his bed.

He didn't think about Bloo as much anymore, even though he probably should have, considering that Bloo was the baby's father. He just didn't want to talk to him about it. He figured that he would have to someday, but not right now. There were too many things on his plate right now to worry about Bloo's reaction.

Then Mac felt it suddenly. A sharp jolt that inflicted a little pain. It hit the wall of his stomach, paused, and then rebounded.

"G-guys!" he cried out softly. He placed a hand over his stomach. "Uh, I think something's happening!"

"Oh God, don't tell me your water broke," Denise mumbled, instantly rushing over.

Mac rolled his eyes. He grabbed her hand and placed it on his stomach. They waited a moment, and then they felt the kick again.

"Feel that?" he murmured, eyes glimmering. "That's the baby."

"That thing is really alive, huh," Nic chuckled, gingerly touching Mac's stomach as well. "Hi, little guy."

"You think it's going to be a boy?"

"I'd bet a lot of money on it," Nic responded, grinning.

Mac smiled warmly. This was the first time, oddly enough, that he had felt connected to the child. And for the first time…

He actually accepted that he was going to be a dad.