The Day I Asked Google If Gay Dragons Could Get Pregnant

I'm guessing I wasn't the only one bored during the pandemic, but I might've been the only one who ended up deep in this rabbit hole. My clients had all taken leave, then I fell off a ladder doing an art project and busted up my elbow, so I was doing a lot of sitting around when my friend Alex called.

Alex is a guy I've known for years in the PR business—he's gay, lives in San Francisco, and normally our conversations revolve around finding the best dive bars to hop this weekend. But nobody was doing anything in 2020, so when he called and said, "Let's write a gay novel," I figured, why not?

He'd just broken up with his boyfriend before the pandemic hit, so he was bored as hell too. Neither of us had ever written a gay novel—or any novel, for that matter. Alex obviously had the life experience part down, but knew nothing about novel writing. I knew a thing or two about writing, but figured how hard could gay romance be? It’s romance with different parts.

Famous last words.

What I thought would be a simple "let's write a cute love story" project turned into my descent into what I can only describe as the subgenre jungle of gay romance. I was not prepared.

But before I get started you should know I'm not a prude (far from it). I've been around. I've heard things but never to this level of detail.  It wasn't the stories, the fantasies, the different subgenres, it was the rules that got me and for some reason Alex had tagged me with doing the research. I found out later he knew about this and thought it would be funny to let me dive in without warning.

All we wanted to do was write a gay romance with emotional depth and a decent amount of sex. Not dungeon-level sex. Just sex that felt… earned. Deserved. Realistic. Hot, sure—but not porn with dialogue.

It started off innocently enough searching for answers to questions like, what’s too steamy? How many thrusts is too many thrusts? Is a metaphorical shower scene safe if nobody gets explicitly rinsed? Does anyone know??

Look, I just wanted to write about two people falling in love. Instead, I found myself asking the internet if a paragraph was “porny.” And I still don’t know the answer.

So naturally, I kept researching.

And that’s when the genre subcategories came for me like horny fairies with clipboards. Suddenly I was lost in a world where people don’t just read gay romance—they categorize it like it’s a wine tasting flight.

MM romance. GFY. OFY. ConRom. PNR. HEA.

First, I met PNR: Paranormal Romance. That’s where love happens between humans and supernatural beings like werewolves, vampires, shapeshifters, fae (fairies), and—yes—dragons. And the sex? It’s not suggestive. It’s detailed.
Very detailed.
We’re talking multi-page primal heat, growls, claws, wall-pinning, and metaphysical mating rituals involving something called... knotting.

Which, for those of you blessed with innocence, is not a sailing term. I've heard of Yacht​ ​b​oys. Is this related​? No. I don”t think so.
It is, in fact, a form of very intense, very locked-in sex based on animal anatomy that has somehow found its way into deeply erotic fiction and has become a whole-ass trope. A deeply respected one, I might add.

And then came the acronyms.

MPREG – Male pregnancy. Yes, it’s what you think it is. Dudes. Getting pregnant.

KNOTTING – A concept borrowed from wolves and used in very... binding ways.

TBTF – Too Big To Fit. (deep breath) That’s not a metaphor.

And my personal breaking point: Reverse Harem Omegaverse Tentacle Romance.

I mean. WHAT?

I was barely catching my breath from the knotting glossary when I landed in Omega-verse territory. This is where the heat cycles live. The Alphas get possessive. The Omegas get pregnant. Yes, pregnant. We call that MPREG—male pregnancy. Often involving dragons or wolfmen or other masculine beings with both dominance issues and wombs, apparently.

I'll use that in a sentence for you.

“After the knotting, Rowan discovers he’s pregnant with the Alpha King’s heir. Again.”

Again.

AS IF THIS WAS A THING THAT HAPPENS TO PEOPLE.

I mean, sure. I’m a woman of imagination. But pregnant gay dragon men in heat? I don’t know if I’m writing a romance novel or discovering a new religion.

And just when I thought I’d clawed my way back to reality, I stumbled onto a story about a gay boat.

Yes. A sentient, anthropomorphic, emotionally available ocean vessel who gets stuck in the Suez Canal and falls in love—with another boat.

There was sex.

There were blowjobs. FROM THE BOAT.
There were metaphors.
There were propellers involved.

There are people writing full-on erotic love stories between boats. A question then. Can airplanes also? And what if an old dirty Jeep gets the hots for a Mercedes? Does that work?

And that’s when I lost it.
I laughed so hard I couldn’t breathe. I lay down on my couch and watched Crazy, Stupid, Love just to feel something normal again. I needed Ryan Gosling in a vest to spiritually cleanse me.

Listen—I’m not kink-shaming. I’m kink-confused.
I didn’t know you could get pregnant from a dragon. I didn’t know “omega” meant something very specific in bedroom politics. I didn’t know fairy sex needed world-building and a glossary.

And I sure as hell didn’t know that if I didn’t understand the difference between PNR (Paranormal Romance) and FR (Fantasy Romance), some anonymous reader named MoonBaeBlossom07 would call me a fraud in the comments.

I was overwhelmed, overstimulated, and in danger of using “knotting” in casual conversation.

Anyway, I went in looking for clarity. I found tentacles and testosterone-fueled pregnancies.
No one warned me.
But I’m warning you.

This is what happens when you ask Google about gay romance.
I needed a break.
And a drink.

So, did we write it? No. I lost the plot looking for the rules.