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Campus, Part 6 - Male Version 2020-04-16T08:09:04+00:00

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Note: This is a male version of Campus.

Summary: When Simon leaves home for the first time and starts college, he immediately notices that his campus has a shockingly high fertility rate, among other things. Contains: Male & Female: belly expansion, breast expansion, butt expansion, pregnancy, weight gain, birth.

Previous Chapter

-

Simon awoke several times throughout the night, panting, sweating and fumbling beneath his mass. None of this was right. He had to go. He wanted to escape the campus and his condition, but the concept of getting up wasn’t even vaguely practical at that point.

The urge to push was still uncomfortably present, and exacerbating with the passing minutes, his hips aching, thighs twitching as he fought against it. He could hardly even move anymore. He was a prisoner in his own body.

Simon was sprawled back on his too-conveniently massive bed, his body practically crushed beneath his bolder of a belly. He would shift constantly, often laying on his side so his belly was perched beside him, tight and throbbing. His massive breasts were shelved atop it, mounds resembling basketballs in size, his stinging nipples sticking out like coke caps, areola puffy and outlined against his top like the rest of his flesh.

His t-shirt—more aptly a belly shirt at that point—could barely contain his breasts, a large chunk of flesh pushing out beneath the strained hem. Despite the paltry coverage, it hardly served any purpose, as the taut material was so soaked with his sweat that it was rendered transparent.

Below, Simon was wearing an oversized pair of basketball shorts he had picked up at the campus shop, but with the recent growths of his posterior, it was stretching and straining to contain him, his ass crack bulging out over the waistband.

He was simply massive. His feeble body quavered under the strain of all the swelling it had endured.

Yet it still wasn’t over. Simon could feel his mass tightening, throbbing, inching forward. He was breathless and exhausted, feeling as though he was in a constant state of cardio, just with the effort of existing as he was at present, as the bizarre caricature he had become.

He had to escape.

Simon didn’t know how, but with time and effort, he somehow maneuvered himself upright, swinging his belly down against his thighs which were rapidly going numb beneath the weight of it.

He shifted his feet to the floor, and began to carefully inch himself forward, gasping and sweating all the while. The pressure was unbearable. He felt as though he was going to lose control. He clutched hard at the underside of his belly, while his other hand pressed against the mattress behind him, helping him to maintain balance.

Simon rocked gently, his face flushed bright red from the effort of it all. With each rock, he tilted himself slightly farther, until he gained some momentum, and with a strangled groan, managed to heave himself onto his feet.

He was amazed that he got himself standing on the first try, and almost laughed, until his eyes widened, and his ability to balance himself failed, as did his knees’ ability to support his full weight.

He was going down, sinking. He managed to ease down against the carpeted floor without too harsh of an impact. He groaned, and fumbled to shift his legs into a more comfortable position, as his belly pressed hard down on them, and the ground.

“Ohhh…” he grunted, as the pressure shot downwards, hips shuddering as his ass wobbled. His ass spasmed so forcefully he yelped.

He wasn’t imagining it. Something was happening. Something large and heavy was squeezing, shifting between his hips, through his pelvis, and farther. He moaned.

“F-fuuuckk…” He couldn’t imagine how something so large could possibly fit through him. In fact he didn’t want to find out.

His thighs spread almost by instinct, but he shuddered them closed again.

There was a light knock on the door. “Simon are you okay in ther—oh.” Paul had let himself in, and to Simon’s astonishment, he was accompanied by another male student in a football jersey.

And then a girl came in—a friend of Paul’s?—and another, until people were filtering in one after the other. Students. Teachers. Simon arched and cried, his belly heaving so powerfully he felt like it would burst away from him.

He came to the vague awareness that he had a full audience, everyone standing around, marveling at him, with looks of pure euphoria on their faces. Those faces were shadowed by the night, and seemed to fill every corner of the room. It was eerie, and Simon wanted more than ever to be anywhere but there.

He was spreading his legs again, as much as he could, despite himself. His breasts had popped entirely out of his shirt. His flushed, throbbing, bloated body was on full display. He felt like a prized pig awaiting slaughter as he moaned and struggled and they watched in silence. He was only on the cusp of pain, but the awkward discomfort was the worst thing ever. Like a scratch he couldn’t itch. Like a thousand scratches. But he couldn’t bring himself to push.

There was a sharp spike of pressure that felt like being punched in the gut, and something jammed downwards, causing Simon to yelp. He collapsed harshly on his back, watching his belly bob up and down as he struggled to breathe.

His nipples squirted streams of milk that sprayed through the air. He moaned and whined, clutching at himself. “I can’t…I can’t…” he groaned, face contorted, vision blurred. He thought he saw the girl who had warned him. But equally, he could have been imagining it.

“Can’t…” he whined, repeating the word like a mantra. Despite him, a force was shoving through, as he shuddered, and clutched it in as much as he could. It was so big, so overwhelming. But he had to hold it in.

-

In a well-lit, windowless, medical facility, several people in hazmat suits stood around Simon Maple’s unconscious form, as the young man groaned and twitched in his sleep. He wore some sort of silvery headset with a tangle of wires running through it.

“The host is going into labor,” one of the scientists observed.

“I’m not surprised,” responded another. “He has been pushed to his limits.” He raised a wand-like medical device with a flat end and gently prodded it against Simon’s massive, heaving stomach.

People buzzed around Simon’s form, taking his vitals, administering medications through his IV line, or simply poking and prodding at his fecund body, his erection jabbing at the underside of his belly, all while he continued to grimace and fidget in his sleep.

Simon’s abdomen gave forceful jerks. It was flushed from the pressure, and developing the faint outlines of veins even at that moment, as it pushed forward and swelled with subtle vibrations of growth. It was growing larger than the king-sized bed could handle.

The medical staff had thus far managed to manipulate the host into holding the spawn in. They had found that the most effective way to control one’s body was a combination of drugs and psychological persuasion. The two methods worked quite impressively in conjunction.

“It is finally time,” said one of the doctors once it was confirmed that the host indeed, was, in labor.

There was a general murmur of agreement amongst the group.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” one said, prompting an awkward, loaded silence.

“John—” another responded.

But John continued, “He is our best subject yet. The litter is strong and healthy. And could do with a little more growth. Humans have such short incubation periods, however I think we could push him another week.”

“His body surely cannot endure—”

“Let’s get him to the gel tank. Yes, that’s it.”

The group, as a collective, arduously rolled Simon’s bed to another section of the expansive facility, this one set up with what appeared to be a large, deep hot tub built into the floor. It was filled not with water, but a still, thick, translucent, purple substance, reminiscent of gelatin.

“Now lower him…easy…” John guided the rest as he dialed buttons on the bed’s remote, the other scientists gripping onto Simon the best they could.

The mechanical bed gently lowered and tilted, effectively sliding Simon’s body downwards, so that he plopped into the gel with a queasy “gloop” noise.

Simon sunk and was submerged, down to his neck. He remained unconscious, his face still twisted in discomfort, shoulders still periodically tensing.

John took a new remote, and the hot-tub lifted, elevating with a hum. It came above ground, and soon resembled a tank, with glass sides so that everyone could see what was happening within.

Simon’s body looked even more massive in the translucent fluid. He was suspended slightly, the substance offering support where sheer gravity did not.

“This should sustain him for a while longer. Soften the skin, ease the weight of the spawn,” John noted, continuing to thoughtfully examine Simon’s form. “Increase the delaying drugs. I know we’re pushing past the safe zone, but we still may be able to disrupt this labor.”

“He will birth the absolution,” said one man monotonously. “But he is not ready yet.” Then he shuffled off to get to work.

“Indeed,” said John, continuing to observe Simon through the tank’s rounded glass walls. “Shall we change the scenario?” He motioned to Simon’s headset, then turned to a woman who was typing away at a computer console across the room. “Have the girl come back. The one who warned him. Have her burst into the room, and tell him to hold it in no matter what.”

“Yes, sir.” And the woman began to type faster.

“Somehow they manage to get him into a wheelchair. Have them escape somehow—to the math building basements. Maybe he’s digging a tunnel? Have fun with it. Could you imaging him trying to crawl?

“Wonderfully ludicrous, sir.” And the woman continued to type away, Simon’s headset beeping gently.

“To our absolution.”

“To absolution.”

And John walked over to another device, as various personnel tinkered with computers and equipment around the room. Simon continued to squirm in his sleep, hips twitching, belly jerking, ass bobbing, and breasts seeping. He had no idea he was in a stimulation. In fact, he had no idea how special he was. Simon was the key, the path to absolution. Everyone else was simply orbiting around him.

The End

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Medication, Part 1 - Female Version 2020-04-15T08:44:13+00:00

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Note: This is a female version of Medication.

Summary: All her life, Tris’s mother forced her to take a daily medication, but never really told her why. After Tris goes off to college, she starts skipping doses, and finally realizes just what the medication is for. Monthly expansion. Contains: Female: belly expansion, breast expansion, and more.

-

“Yes mum, I got the care package—” Tris was interrupted when a small belch escaped her throat. “Oh sorry,” she said, abashed. She absently rubbed her stomach, her other hand still cradling the phone to her ear.

“Have you been taking your medication?” said her mother. Her voice was filled with concern.

Tris rolled her eyes. “Yes, mum. It’s just a little indigestion.” She covered the mouthpiece just in time to release another belch. She had been getting a lot of it lately, her stomach for some reason warring with her insides.

“Are you sure…”

Since Tris had been in middle school, her mother had been forcing her to take a daily pill for reasons beyond her comprehension. Mum had always refused to disclose what the pill was for, or where she had even acquired the unlabeled bottles of medication. As Tris grew older, she had come to suspect her mother was a bit paranoid. She seemed jittery, and was always peeking through the scarcely-opened house curtains, as though fearful of the arrival of something. Tris loved her mother, of course, but even she could not deny that the woman was a little unhinged. She still took the pills her mother sent her, if just out of obligation, but she found that she was a lot less scrupulous about it. And being away from her mother’s hawkish scrutiny was a relief.

“I’ve been taking the pills,” said Tris acerbically, leaving no room for argument. “And school is fine. I know you worry, but don’t. I’m actually having a great time.”

After reassuring her mother another twenty minutes, Tris wished her a good night and hung up with a sigh. She leaned back on the couch of her dorm, feeling drowsy even though it was only six in the evening. She supposed her mother could have that sort of effect on people, especially now that she wasn’t so accustomed to her overprotectiveness anymore.

Across the room, Tris’s roommate, Rachel, sent a grin. She twisted her pointer finger in circles above her head and mouthed, Helicopter parent.

Tris wearily smiled back, and nodded, before allowing her eyelids to drop. She didn’t wake up again until the next afternoon, by which point she had already missed two classes.

-

In addition to suffering drowsiness and indigestion, Tris suffered a general feeling of malaise over a few days. She found herself somewhat nauseous, especially in the mornings. Fortunately she never reached the tipping point of actually puking.

During the periods in which Tris wasn’t nauseous, her appetite seemed to surge, and she was helpless but to indulge it. Soon Tris found herself uncharacteristically putting on weight.

Day 11…

She examined herself in her bedroom mirror one afternoon.

She had always been a thin girl, but now she looked somewhat softer in ways she couldn’t pinpoint. Her usually flat chest was softer, and she had acquired some fullness to her abdomen.

She felt bloated more than anything. Like she was packed full even though she hadn’t eaten recently. Her stomach had taken on a rounded appearance which didn’t seem consistent with normal fat gain. Tris decided to increase her workouts on the school track. She did a few laps every evening, though the numbers on her scale continued to steadily rise.

Day 13…

“You’ve gained some weight, Peterson.”

Tris felt her cheeks redden, though she suspected her skin was still flushed from practice. Coach had pulled her aside after all the other players had left, and she didn’t have to wonder why. She had underperformed, missing passes, and failing to make any goals even though she was usually the women’s soccer team’s star player. Today she had been sluggish and winded, barely able to catch her breath following even short sprints about the field. For the past few practices, her teammates had whispered and stared. It had only been a matter of time before coach felt the need to pull her aside.

“What’s going on? This isn’t like you,” Coach continued.

Tris self-consciously looked down, and found her eyes focusing on her belly. She stared at the way her jersey was beginning to stretch over the intrusive mound. She really was getting fat. She bit her lip, embarrassed.

“I’m going to have to bench you.”

“What? No!” Tris looked up.

Coach patted her shoulder. “You’re not leaving me with much of a choice, Tris. You have to get into shape. It’s a shame. I was eying you for captain.”

Tris’s heart clenched.

“Clean up your act, Tris. No more drinking. I’ll work out a customized meal plan for you. You’ll be back on the field in no time.”

Tris sighed and mumbled her gratitude.

-

Tris followed Coach’s meal plan religiously.

Except on the nights when she woke up in anguish, her stomach grumbling to remind her how unsatisfying her meal of steamed broccoli and chicken breast had been.

These nights brought Tris to the 24-hour campus shop in just a baggy T-shirt and leggings that pushed down low and now stretched out over her fuller ass.

Tris would fill her basket with chips and packages of pastries, cup noodles, and whatever other decadent things she seemed to be continuously craving.

Afterwards, Tris would return to her dorm, and eat it all in a frantic episode that she refused to qualify as a binge. Was it her fault that Coach was practically starving her? Or that her stomach now seemed to have a mind of its own? And, oh god, her weight was surging!

Tris’s late-night food ventures occurred more and more frequently, until it was nearly a nightly occurrence, and Tris could hardly fall asleep before she was properly stuffed.

She continued to attend every soccer practice, where she dutifully kept the bench warm for her fellow players. Coach was not impressed by Tris’s ever-rounding physique.

Day 19…

“Tris, we’re going to have to send you in.”

Tris’s jaw dropped. “I haven’t been on the field in weeks.

Coach looked almost pained as she continued. “I know, but we have no choice. Fernandez is out, and I’m pretty sure Noles’s ankle is broken. I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I had any other choice.”

Tris gulped, stood, and stripped her jacket. She revealed a rounded belly that looked as though it was carrying a child, or had been fostered though decades of beer-guzzling. Strangely enough, Tris hardly drank at all. Yet all her weight seemed to go directly to her stomach, where it sat firm, strange, and uncompromising. She absently trailed her hands over the obvious bump tightly stretching her jersey, still stunned by how rapidly she had acquired it. She really did look pregnant. Which was utterly mad, as she was still a virgin and had never even had a period. Tris looked up at Coach, and blushed to see that she was staring as well.

Coach seemed to snap out of her reverie. She swallowed, and managed a curt nod. “Do us proud,” she said remorsefully. She gave Tris’s shoulder a quick pat.

Tris detached her hands from her belly, despite a strange compulsion to keep them firmly planted there. “Right,” she said, before turning around. She took a deep breath and sprinted off onto the field.

-

They won the game, by which time Tris was ready to pass out. She was slower, less coordinated, and more uncomfortable than she was used to being. Her back twinged horribly. She found that the other players were often too busy staring at her rounded gut to pay much attention to the ball. In consequence, Tris landed a few (uncoordinated) goals, and brought the team one step closer to the title.

Too exhausted to celebrate, she dragged herself directly to her dorm. She felt as though she was getting fatter by the moment. Fortunately, she was too drained to even think about food. Tris collapsed to her bed and fell asleep, vaguely wondering whether she should be more concerned. Maybe she should see a doctor. Maybe she would put it off for another week.

Day 25

Tris was huge. There was no other way to put it. She was pounds heavier on a daily basis, her weight surging out of control.

She had stopped going to soccer practices, so mortified that she hardly even left her dorm anymore. Her friends left her messages. Her professors were sending notices. Tris didn’t know what to do.

She examined herself daily in the mirror, marveling at her continuously changing physique. Her largest T-shirts were skin-tight on her, and revealed several inches of her lower belly. She was wearing a pair of shorts that were nearly bursting at her ass and jammed low on her hips by the abrupt protuberance of her abdomen.

Tris pulled her shirt up. Her stomach looked like a ball, nowhere in the realm, of normal, not even close to resembling weight gain anymore. She looked as though she was pregnant, her belly button bulging out the way Professor Jones' had when she was nearly at term with her daughter. And her mound was littered with strange squirming, tickling, and tapping sensations, that sometimes distorted her skin, and scared the living hell out of her.

Tris resigned herself to seeing a doctor, she just had to—to work out what she would say. She would give it another few days—god what if this was some sort of tumor!?—whatever it was, another few days wouldn’t harm her.

Tris glided her fingers over her breasts, and shuddered. They had gotten yet fuller. Her nipples were swollen and tender, and protruding evidently in her shirt. Tris slid her fingers back down from her chest to absently stroke her stomach.

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Comments (2)
user avatar
User #16761178 - 15 Apr 20 15:08
AT LAST! I can't tell you how much I've been looking forward to this. :)
user avatar
Kompera - 16 Apr 20 07:47
:DD
Reward Change 2020-04-02T04:00:05+00:00

Very slight adjustment. I changed prompt lengths from 600-800 words to 700-900 words. I'm have been progressively increasing my average word counts on all story posts, and I hope to continue to gradually do so.

Hopefully I will also be able to open up another prompt spot soon, depending on my schedule.

Thanks for all your support.

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Cattle 2020-03-31T18:57:28+00:00

Note: This is a story-prompt for Iluvfoodbabies.

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-

“Sydney, is that you?” said Ally, trying to swing some of her blonde hair out of her face. As a 5’5 chubby nineteen-year-old, she was used to feeling helpless, to a certain extent, but waking up bent over in what seemed like a cattle stall far bypassed anything she had experienced before. She was locked in, a circle of metal loosely enclosing her neck. It was too narrow for her to pull her head out of. It looked like she would need a key to get out.

“Yeah,” Sydney called back from the stall beside her. Sydney was a 5’8 Filipina, and she was thick. One of Ally’s college classmates, the two had been fast friends on campus. “I think Megan and Cait are here too.”

“Yeah,” Megan called.

“Me too,” Cait squeaked.

Ally was baffled. She had awoken in a cattle stall with three of her college buddies in stalls beside hers. He didn’t think things could get any weirder.

-

“You’re up.”

A few hours later, Megan groggily looked up at a man. He was young, handsome, and had…blue skin. Trippy.

Megan was a college student of 5’2 with her red hair shaped into a short pixie cut. She was very chubby and had DD-cup breasts she was quite proud of.

The blue-skinned man was brief. “I will be using you women to breed for my most esteemed intergalactic clientele. You will be freed after you have served your purpose. Just cooperate. It will make things easier.”

Megan stared blankly at him. “Is this some sort of joke?” she said, scrambling somewhat in her awkward position. “Listen, if my parents find out that I’m not on campus—”

Megan was cut off as a hose was shoved down her throat. It thrummed, and she nearly gagged on the jet of thick fluid that poured rapidly out of it and heavily into her stomach.

-

Cait was distracted from the blue man by the shuffling of movement behind her. She tried to crane her neck to see what was going on. “Hey!” she protested, as someone began to pull up her skirt. Her eyes flew wide open as she felt a narrow hose being aligned with her groin, before it was unceremoniously pushed past her lips, and then—deeper. She grimaced. “What—what are you—” She grunted, and cursed a little. She was a blonde of 4’10, fit and athletic, and had little patience for shenanigans.

The hose just went deeper. She twitched and wiggled to detach it. Then there was a hum, and she felt something being pushed inside of her, something thick and warm, a fluid that was rapidly filling her, her opening clenching and contracting, as though sucking it in. She could feel her belly tightening, her eyes going wide as it shuddered forward from the strain.

-

“Cait, are you okay?” Sydney called.

Cait released a groan. “Something’s inside of me. Like a—tube or something. Th-the pressure…”

“Cait—”

Sydney was interrupted as a tube was shoved up her own groin, and another, down her throat, almost simultaneously. She struggled not to choke as she was pumped at both ends. She could feel her belly tightening, stretching, pushing forward, as her body throbbed and the pressure surged. She could feel her clothes tightening, her breasts and belly heaving outwards. Her face was hot, and she knew she was sweating bullets, probably soaked in it by then.

-

Ally had always been cute and curvy, but she could feel her body swelling, thickening as she was forced to gulp down the sticky concoction from the hose presently jammed in her mouth.

She could feel her belly surging forward, as her breasts rose like dough. Her thighs pressed and rubbed, and began to strain the leggings she was wearing, her ass pushing out behind her as her hips widened at her flanks. She continued to struggle furiously for freedom, but the longer she was fed, the more sleepy she seemed to become.

Groggy by then, she continued to methodically gulp.

She could just make out Cait beside her, who looked weirdly distorted, her belly large and inflated-looking, like she was pregnant or something. It pushed out farther and farther, Cait fumbling and whining in her stall. Finally her bare belly tore through the buttons of her shirt, popping out visibly, smooth and round, and continuing to inch out. Cait was gasping for breath, a string of spittle hanging down her chin. Her mouth was gaping, eyes were wide, and her hands were feebly clasping at her belly as it continued to swell in throbs of growth, until she looked due, then overdue, then overdue with multiples, and still was groaning. Cait released a long whine, thighs quavering. There was a splash of liquid, and Cait arched, releasing a wail, her belly heaving almost violently.

Ally averted her gaze in her panic. She continued to silently gulp.

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Comments (1)
user avatar
User #27538928 - 31 Mar 20 20:47
Excited to see what happens to the cattle breeders 😀❤
Starship IV 2020-03-31T11:23:06+00:00

Note: This is a story-prompt for jorgamund.

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Previous

-

Lauren walked around upon the gray dirt, enjoying the gravity, that made her feel slightly lighter than when she was on earth. Her first priority was finding a safe place for the crew to disembark.

The planet was densely populated, if not overpopulated, and there were no buildings or forestry. Everywhere she went, blank faces stared at her. Occasionally, Lauren would see a native duck into the shelter of a hole in the ground.

She was getting heavier. Even despite the lighter impact of gravity, her belly felt fuller and more weighted. She knew it was getting larger as it stretched to accommodate an even larger crew.

She found her hands resting on the mass against the lurches and gurgles coming from within her. She waddled somewhat, her belly bobbing, and her swollen breasts heaving as they strained against the wrap that contained them.

Sometimes she still couldn’t believe how massive she was. She thought her belly resembled a bolder.

“Excuse me, miss.”

Lauren was surprised to hear English words. Everywhere she walked, the aliens communicated in a hushed language that seemed comprised of hisses and whispers.

At seeing her surprise, the native stretched his mouth in what seemed an attempt at a human smile. “I learned 172 languages while on galactic patrol. You are an earthling, are you not?”

Like the other members of his race, he towered over her. He did not have a shaven head, like most of the others. His hair was long and a deep green color. It hoovered and twisted around his head, as though he was under water.

“Yes, I am an earthling,” she confirmed. “My name is Lauren. I have come to your planet in hopes of purchasing food and supplies. Though I will not presume to speak for my captain. He will disembark shortly.”

“My name is Vrd,” he responded. “There is a fuel station not far from here. It is also a space port, and has a variety of supplies for travelers. I would be happy to guide you there, and translate for you. It is not a far walk.”

“Thank you,” Lauren accepted. She walked alongside Vrd, appreciating how hospitable he was.

There was an internal buzzing.

“Lauren,” Ferguson’s voice rang in her ears. “Tell us about the planet. When will you be ready for us to disembark?”

“You are large for your species,” Vrd said. “And you are with child.”

“I am a bioship,” Lauren corrected him. “The only thing inside me is my crew.” She indicated her jutting stomach.

“Fascinating,” said Vrd. “You humans are quite inventive.”

“Dr. Ferguson is a brilliant scientist,” Lauren responded. At Vrd’s questioning look, she said, “He is the one who turned me into a vessel. He is inside me right now, waiting to disembark.”

“I see. And is this everything you wanted, human?”

Her hips felt heavy and sore, her back protesting against the weight of her girth. Somewhat breathless, Lauren said, “It was my greatest ambition to go to space. Now it is my purpose.” But even she could detect the touch of uncertainty in her words. Her nipples were hard and aching, breasts still heavy with the emergency supply of nourishment being stored within them.

“Understood,” Vrd said with total neutrality.

“Lauren…” Ferguson contacted her again.

But Lauren was distracted as the station came into view. It was cluttered with large, expansive vessels, all cold and metallic, nothing as unique as her. The network of supply shops appeared to be underground, much like every other interior place on the planet. Lauren opened her mouth, intending to inquire about the planet’s intergalactic traffic, when her legs stopped working for some reason. Her body went rigid before she felt herself arching considerably, almost painfully, her belly jutting out as her belly button swelled. She sunk to her knees, belly flushed and straining, jerking with forceful pulses, and she could barely breathe through the pressure shooting to her navel. She felt something beginning to crown from her bellybutton, forcing her open in a dismemberment she had been unprepared for.

Soon Ferguson dropped unceremonious to the ground, Vrd frozen and staring as he watched the scene from her periphery. Still unable to control her body, Lauren dropped to her side, grunting and twitching as the rest of the crew began to disembark. In the meantime Ferguson climbed to his feet and brushed the dust off his clothes. He turned to Vrd and bowed slightly.

“Excuse the display. She was initially on autopilot, but I took manual control. She was ignoring my directives. Can’t have that with a ship.”

Lauren laid limp on the ground, the small crew now gathered around her, looking around.

It took Vrd a moment to respond. “I see,” he said carefully. “My name is—”

“Yes, Vrd. I observed. Pleased to make your acquaintance. I appreciate your offer to translate.”

With that, Ferguson proceeded towards the port. Vrd followed, now a bit wary. The crew members chattered behind in a procession. Lauren climbed up and walked robotically at the rear, her back tensely straight and waddle gone.

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Turned 2020-03-30T11:16:29+00:00

Note: This is a story-prompt for varvi.

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-

“What the hell!” Paul scrambled back so rapidly he fell down. He was staring in shock at one of his dorm mates. “E-Eric? Is that…you?”

“Yeah…I think,” said Eric, his voice much higher than he was used to it being. His body was also quite softer and smoother, more broad in certain places and more narrow in others. “What the hell was in that beer Porter gave us?” He tugged at his ill-fitting pajamas, and found himself peeking into a generous fold of cleavage that had never been there before.

Eric was a girl. Like, a girly girl. Maybe even a woman. He had gone to bed fully male and masculine, all hairy, pit-stained, and broad shouldered, only to awake that morning in a woman’s body. Now he had wide hips, a narrow waste, a plump ass, and two large mounds bulging out on his chest, bobbing gently even at that moment. And in place of his cock and balls was a fold of flesh that made him tremble just thinking about it. It was hard to tell if this was a nightmare of some perverse dream.

“’The hell,” Paul repeated, still looking distinctly terrified.

The others were standing around, staring at Paul in similar states of shock, terror, and…awe?

“Trippy,” said Samuel.

“Eyes up,” said Eric, futility trying to flatten down his bulging tits. God, they were so full and so soft. “This is fucking weird. Hey, stop looking at me like that!”

“Sorry man, it’s just—your tits are out of control,” said Samuel appreciatively.

“Perky,” said John, as he gave a creepy little giggle, before catching himself, and abruptly shutting up. “I think you need a bra,” he added.

“A bra?” said Eric.

“I’d say those are at least a DD-cup,” said Samuel knowledgeably.

Eric looked around at his dorm mates as though they were insane. “The last thing I’m worried about is getting a bra. I need to find out what the fuck is going on!”

-

Of course, an hour later, Eric found himself at a nearby mall, bra-shopping. The whole thing just made his stomach lurch. His breasts were just so jiggly and unruly, and people never stopped staring. His nipples were so uncomfortable when they rubbed against the inside of his shirt, at times he could hardly function.

So getting a bra (or two) seemed the most practical course of action, at least until he figured out what was going on, or awoke from the bizarre dream he had found himself in.

He had never been so self-conscious. Some women were giving him odd looks, but it was probably the masculine sports jersey and basketball shorts he was wearing, his huge tits bobbing on his chest.

The men were giving him rapt attention, tilting their heads, licking their lips. If he didn’t know better, he’d say they were checking him out. Eric shuffled all the faster, folding his arms over his wiggling fun-bags.

He was flushed and awkward as he grabbed a variety of bras to try on. Once in the fitting room, he wriggled into them one by one.

His first attempts were several modest sizes. It took a few minutes of fumbling before he got it right. Then he would stare in the mirror, mystified by the plump hills protruding so perfectly in the slinky material. It would take a while before he would remember to check the actual fit. Still too tight, Eric thought, looking at the way his flesh bubbled over the bra cups.

He hadn’t wanted to believe Samuel, but as it turned out, he really was a full DD. Double-Ds. On Eric. It was all so surreal.

As Eric decided on his final purchases and headed to the register, his stomach lurched again, and he was hit by a wave of nausea. He held his gut, noticing that it was slightly bloated. “Eugh,” he groaned. Seriously, what the hell was in that beer? Decided that he had to have a serious conversation with Porter, Eric walked on, but was hit with a wave of dizziness, and felt himself, well—swoon. Girlishly, at that!

“Miss, are you alright?” A pair of hands grabbed onto his shoulders.

Eric wasn’t sure. Everything went black.

-

The next thing Eric knew, he was lying in a medical gown. He realized it was some time later as he looked around the hospital room he found himself in.

A female doctor was hovering over him, scribbling something in a chart. “Oh, you’re awake.” She smiled.

“What happened?” Eric groaned. He couldn’t help reaching down under the blanket in search of his cock, but it was still absently, in its place, that strange fold. The nightmare continues.

“You fainted, miss.”

“Er…” was all Eric could say to that. “Ahm…why?” he added.

“Congratulations. You’re pregnant.”

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Piggy 2020-03-29T14:45:32+00:00

Note: This is a story-prompt for Ryan Caday.

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Pilar sure has a lot of weird snacks, Sandy mused as she stuffed another one of the aforementioned snacks into her mouth. It was vaguely sweet and tangy, and had the texture of a peeled grape. It had come from one of the many jars that lined the shelves in her roommate, Pilar’s, bedroom.

“Ah, here it is,” Sandy murmured to herself as she finally found the textbook Pilar had asked her to grab on the way to class. Sandy tucked the book under her arm, made to return the jar to the shelf, then hesitated, and instead stuffed it into her backpack. She hadn’t eaten lunch yet. Pilar owed her anyway.

-

Unbeknownst to Sandy, the jar of “snacks” were actually radiated and genetically modified capsules of pig DNA.

In the days that followed, Sandy was surprised to find that her appetite was out of control. Though she was a big snacker, she found herself feeling even more hungry than usual, and she constantly needed to have things at hand to munch on or she could hardly concentrate.

Sandy’s speedy metabolism had always aided her in staying fairly slim, but she could see and feel the weight rapidly piling on, her stomach steadily curving under the strain of the continuous feeding, and her hips, thighs, and breasts rapidly filling out.

Sandy usually wore a modest B-cup, but her breasts went up a full cup in just about a week. She was getting softer, more voluptuous, and slower. Her physical activities devolved to dragging herself from her couch to classes, then back again, all while she continuously stuffed chips and chocolates into her mouth.

“Sandy, you’ve put on weight,” Pilar mentioned one day, eying her.

Sandy shrugged in response as she stuffed the bottom half of a slice of pepperoni pizza into her mouth.

She had rapidly gone from voluptuous to “full-figured,” and from that to indifferently fat. Her stomach had softened and rounded and pushed out. Her ass had swollen round behind her where it had hardly existed before, and her breasts had blown up another two cup sizes seemingly overnight.

Her skin had a strange sheen, and a pink glow to it that Sandy actually thought was quite nice. Through it all, she still couldn’t stop eating. She could almost feel herself swelling, gaining, and still, she stuffed her face with fats and starches in a constant and desperate fashion.

-

It had been another couple of weeks, and Sandy didn’t know whether to be astonished or impressed. The pounds had continued to pile on as she gorged herself nonstop. In her haste, she had become a sloppier eater, chewing loudly, grunting, and snorting. There seemed to always be a food stain on her clothes no matter what time of day it was, and she began to wonder if she looked like a slob. Sandy had also become very sedentary, getting extremely winded when doing a task as simply as getting the mail. She always felt hot and flushed, and found herself taking a lot of cool baths to sooth her burning flesh.

Her tits had gotten huge, both easily FF-cups by then, stretching out every bra she crammed them into, bobbing on her chest, nipples bulging. Her ass was huge, rocking and swaying behind her. Her belly had gotten so massive, she looked as though she was heavily pregnant. She wobbled around cupping the mound, her only ambition being to fill it more.

There were other changes as well. Her nose seemed both flatter and wider, while her lower face almost seemed to be changing shape, tapering towards the protrusion of her nose. Her skin had truly become a pink color. And between the tip of her belly and the bottom of her breasts, she was developing strange mountains of fat that were really starting to bulge out.

Her tailbone was itchy and irritated. She rubbed and scratched at it whenever she could, eventually encountering a small raised bump that just seemed to be getting more and more distended.

Sandy knew that she should have been truly concerned about all her changes. That she should have consulted a doctor by then. But her solitary focus continued to be on eating. So she continued to put it off.

-

It was a few days later that she was hit by a weird…episode.

It happened in the night, and at first she thought she was dreaming, until it drew her out of her sleep.

She twisted and writhed, her body hot and thrumming with a strange, exacerbating pressure. She felt as though she was stretching, her hands rubbing up and down her swollen gut as she panted and clutched at herself, her ass throbbing, belly rolling forward, and breasts slowly inching out. “Ngghhh…” She let out a wheeze, finding herself clutching at the flesh under her tits, feeling it grow bigger, swelling beneath her hands as bloated flesh spilled forward, leaving her quavering from the odd waves of pleasure.

When it was over, she laid there sweat-soaked and gasping. It took her hours before she gathered the energy to get out of bed. She dragged her heavy body to her mirror and marveled at what she had become.

Her clothes were stretched; belly bulging outwards, and ass poking out beneath her straining night shorts. She now had a pig snout and nose, two massive pairs of breasts, and a pig tail protruding out behind her. Her belly still dominated her torso, though now it seemed twice as large. Sandy continued to stare at herself, lips parted.

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Comments (2)
user avatar
User #27538928 - 29 Mar 20 23:57
Sounds like shes going to be another fat pregnant piggy
user avatar
User #230963 - 29 Mar 20 23:39
Hopefully her first reaction after seeing her lovely body in the mirror is to..... eat and eat and eat~
April Story Poll 2020-03-27T04:07:26+00:00

I still have some things to post for March, but please choose the stories you would like for me toupdate in April. Thetop three choices will haveguaranteedposts. The rest will be chosen by me. Poll will remain open for 48 hours.

Note: In event of a tie, the story that has been waiting the longer time for an update will be the one which is chosen.

Insect Queen: A young woman is injected with a serum by her vindictive ex who works in genetic engineering. Over time the woman begins to bloat up, her petite breasts becoming full and large, and strange developments beginning on her scalp, above her rear, and beneath her arms. Eventually she is forced to hide as she develops antennae, two more sets of arms, two more sets of breasts, and a large insect abdomen to supplement her bloated stomach. She begins to lay over a hundred eggs, but soon realizes her last coupling resulted in her becoming fertilized for life, and will lay more eggs every few months/weeks. Soon she is struggling to raise a horde of bug girls supported by the state, each clamoring for her milk. Plot Summary submitted by Fox Face.

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Comments (1)
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User #2714932 - 27 Mar 20 19:20
I need so much more of Neighbors. Its JUST getting good.
Farm Boy, Part 8 2020-03-27T03:48:53+00:00

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Summary: A high school senior, Max noticed that his older brother has been dipping into the chemical on his parents' farm, and has been gaining a lot of weight. A bit disgusted, a bit curious, Fred tries the chemical hormones himself, and experiences the best high of his life. He quickly introduces the chemical to his two best friends, and the three progressively get addicted, all while experiencing incidental changes, such as butt growth, breast development, belly expansion, in addition to other, stranger, things. Contains: Male: pregnancy, breast expansion, multiple breasts, breast-belly, butt expansion, weight gain, and more. Also, issues of drug addiction.

Previous Chapter

-

Max abruptly fast-tracked his transition to college, feigning an interest in higher education that he had never exhibited before. Of course, he was motivated entirely by panic.

He signed up for early summer classes, skipping the orientation process altogether, and he found an apartment near campus online, not even seeing the place before he digitally signed the lease.

He did the whole thing while hiding out in his bedroom, interacting as little as possible with other human beings, his parents included. Whenever they knocked on the door to check on him, he claimed that he was busy searching online for an elusive textbook, or pretended that he was sleeping.

He didn’t even tell them about his departure until after he was already gone. He called his parents and claimed to have spontaneously taken a five-hour day trip to do a last-minute interview for a paid internship at the university. He had been hired on the spot, and his employers had insisted that he start the very next day. Therefore he’d had no time to go home and say goodbyes and such.

“Max, this is all so sudden,” said his mother, sounding baffled on the other line.

“I know,” said Max, hoping his voice seemed at least remorseful. “I didn’t want to bother you and dad at work. I thought I’d be back before you came honest. Honest.” He gave a frustrated-sounding sigh.

“So you’re not coming home? …At all?”

“It would be great if you could ship over my stuff.”

And like that, Max was gone. He didn’t say goodbye to his friends. He didn’t get his final report card (but suspected he didn’t want to see it anyway). He had moved into his very own apartment, and was funding his rent payments through his modest savings and extreme frugality.
It was a relief. He signed up exclusively for online classes once college actually did start up. His grades were back up, and he largely kept to himself, in his apartment. At times, he did mourn the fact that he was missing out on the traditional college experience. But then he would get high and wonder why it mattered.

Max kept up with his parents, during phone calls that he spaced out scrupulously. He made sure to let more time pass between each interaction. They were still prattling on about doctor’s appointments and surgery consults. There was even talk of selling the farm.

He just wished they would stop fretting about him. He could suddenly relate to how Adam had felt before his own abrupt escape.

The gaps in contact continued to get larger and larger, and his parents hardly noticed that he was steadily fading from their purview. He ended up moving to a cheaper apartment, but didn’t update them on the address. He made sure to return their calls belatedly, sometimes after a full week had passed. He made it the new normal, and their standards for him continued to crumble without their notice.

When he did speak to his parents, Max was sure to always say how amazingly well he was doing (even when he wasn’t). He implied that his body was “really improving” (whatever that meant). Progressively, he pacified their concerns. The medical talk went away, and was all but forgotten.

Max never told his friends what had happened—not about his encounter with Roger, or even the second pair of fat tits now protruding out on his torso. He didn’t think he could handle the combined vulnerability and humiliation. Maybe it was best if he was just forgotten.

Oddly enough, Max maintained a weird acquaintanceship with the one person who did know his secret.

Roger went to college one town over.

Max was surprised the first time he received a message from the other teen. He almost hadn’t responded. But ultimately, he had, and it was weird and hot, and mortifying, but they were casually interacting.

It wasn’t before long until they were both back at Max’s apartment, talking about high school, as though it was long enough ago to even warrant reminiscing. The interaction as a whole hardly made sense. The two had never been friends in high school, had not even been in the same circles, and had not gotten along as far as Max could tell.

The conversation trailed into an awkward, but heavy, silence. Roger’s eyes would continuously flicker downwards from Max’s face. He couldn’t keep them up. Both knew very well why.

Max’s breast growth had steadied and slowed down, but it had never ceased entirely. At present he had two round, plump pairs of EE-cups bobbing on his chest. He had forgone the trial of squeezing into a bra, yet his four mounds were still high and perk, swollen nipples bulging evidently into the material of the loose T-shirt he was wearing. The mounds were huge on his slim frame, and they were altogether impossible to disguise by that point.

“God, it’s so hot,” Roger breathed.

Max felt his nipples stiffen more, pushing out to the point that it was almost painful. He had milked his tits thoroughly prior to Roger’s arrival, but somehow felt fully engorged again. He tried not to shift too much. He was feeling so sensitive, he could hardly stand it. “I can…I can turn on the aircon—” Max started, when Roger impatiently grabbed his shoulders, and leaned over him, breathing heavily.

Max arched slightly, allowing his four mounds to push into his shirt, causing him to shudder as his cock went from half-mast to fully aroused. It had been so long since he had been touched by another. In fact, he hadn’t been touched since Roger had done it the last time, in that high school bathroom. Just the thought made Max whimper. His breasts had become a source of pure, unadulterated pleasure, and was beginning to rival even the drug in its potency.

“They’ve gotten bigger,” Roger noted breathlessly. He dipped one of his hands into his pants, and began to stroke shamelessly. “How much bigger are they going to get?” His other hand continued to hold Max’s shoulder firmly, maintaining a distance between them, though didn’t seem to properly account for the mass of Max’s breasts, because they were close to stroking into Roger’s chest, as Max arched farther, almost desperate. They wobbled gently. Max panted and squirmed, and screwed up his face as he struggled to regain control.

“Don’t…don’t know…” he said in response to Roger’s question. His nipples had finally reached far enough to graze Roger’s chest, as he wantonly rocked them. Milk was seeping, staining their shirts, but Roger hardly seemed to mind.

“Can you put on something hot for me?” Roger asked. “Some nice bras, or—”

“Fuh-fuck off,” Max retorted, finally breaking away from Roger’s hold and launching forward, smacking into Roger’s chest with a sharp burst of arousal that nearly made him come in his pants.

“Shit Max, can I…?”

Max didn’t even know what Roger was inquiring about, but he nodded hurriedly.

Then Roger’s fingers were rubbing gently into the fatty flesh, as Max whimpered and wondered why the fuck they had wasted a full half hour talking in the first place.

The pressure grew harder, Roger rubbing and squeezing as milk dripped or squirted depending on the force, and Max sunk beneath him, as Roger hoovered above. He allowed his hot breath to press against one of Max’s nipples, causing Max to groan.

Max felt his shirt being peeled off. He felt the kisses and sucks, and almost wanted to tell Roger to stop, but also, who gave a fuck about a little residual engorgement, when it felt this good to have Roger’s face buried in his four tits. The mounds had proven embarrassing and useless, but then there was this.

-

His phone was giving off a melodious chime that just cycled continuously. Max groggily dipped his hand under his pillow, grabbed it up, and shoved it against his ear. “Yeah?”

“Max?”

Max was suddenly wide awake. “Shit Scott, how did you get this number?” he blurted as he shifted himself upright, absently cradling the side of his lower left breast with his hand. He looked around the dark room. To his relief, Roger was gone.

“Your mom gave it to me. Was I not supposed to call it?” said Scott, sounding bitter.

“No man, I just—I’m a little surprised,” said Max awkwardly, wondering if it was too late to just hang up.

“You didn’t even tell us you were leaving,” said Scott.

“Yeah, well the job, it was really sudden, and…” Max found himself rambling.

“Don’t bullshit me. You could have called.”

Max swallowed. “Yeah, I guess I’m just not so good with goodbyes. Sorry, man.”

There was an awkward pause as Max held his breath. He continued to absently rub the flushed flesh of his mounds, each of them tense and a bit prickly in their engorgement.

“So…how are things going with you?” Scott finally asked.

Max looked down at himself. “Er…college is alright,” he said, trying to evade the matter of most relevance. His face twisted as the pressure spontaneously surged, all four of his nipples starting to drip. He distractedly squeezed one of the nubs with his free hand, hissing out as it squirted. He struggled not to groan. “I’m in the middle of midterms right now. How are things going with you? And James?”

“I’m okay. Still with my parents.” Max could practically hear the shrug. “James actually moved out on his own. He got a…job.”

“Oh?”

“As a stripper.”

“Wah…woah…” said Max, trying to bear the arousing sensations and confused feelings, all while tweaking his tits. All four squirted. “Fuh…”

“You okay?” said Scott.

“Yeah,” Max managed. “I mean, just…what the fuck?”

“I know.” Scott laughed. “But he’s actually really good at it.”

“You’ve seen him?” Just the thought of Scott watching James strip made Max want to simultaneously crawl into a hole and jerk himself off.

Scott was still laughing. “No, I mean, he showed me a move or two.”

“Weird as shit.” Max just couldn’t imagine James stripping, but he supposed stranger things had happened, as he looked at the four mounds wobbling on his chest.

“Yeah, well…keep in touch, Max. Maybe I’ll head out to see you some time.”

“That would be…” Max trailed off, because he didn’t quite know what that would be. It would be something.

“Talk to you later.”

“Later,” Max responded, as he contemplated changing his number. He hung up and slumped back against his pillows.

-

The price of the drug was progressively increasing. Max did an extensive search of the ingredients, but it seemed to be a trade secret.

Most of his money went towards tuition, housing, and general living expenses, and he barely had anything left over for petty spending let along an expensive drug habit.

Max was digging around for a textbook one day when he noticed that his apartment had a particularly large closet.

He tried putting it online for rent as a Quaint bedroom. Cozy and well-insulated.

He was surprised by the flood of responses he got from desperate college students in various stages of financial purgatory.

A sophomore named Paige insisted on coming to see the place that very day. Max draped himself in a variety of large, amorphous winter coats he had purchased for just these sorts of situations. Paige arrived at the apartment, smacking gum loudly. She glanced over the place with little interest and no inquiries.

She was at the cusp of being overweight in a pleasantly voluptuous way, dressed in a short skirt and a tank top. Unreservedly, she tugged some of her skirt out of her ass crack.

Max started, “The utilities are usually—”

“I’ll take it,” Page cut him off, drawing some of her long, unruly hair out of her face. She then dug into her purse and pulled out a crumpled wad of cash, before handing it over. “First month and security deposit.”

Max opened and closed his mouth, before recovering. “Welcome, roomie,” he said, as he took the money and counted the varied bill types.

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Pet Shop, Part 19 - Female Version 2020-03-26T01:21:35+00:00

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Summary: An animal breeder is cursed to start personally giving birth to supply her pet shop with animals. Contains: Female: belly expansion, breast expansion, lactation, multiple breasts.

Previous Chapter

-

Everyone was investing more than ever in the business, buying more stock, acquiring as much ownership as they could. Amelia had made a down payment on an investment property, and Dean was in the process of purchasing a Maserati. Even Simon had upgraded to a more posh wardrobe. Maggie knew she was wealthier than ever before, and she was surrounded by people continually trying to placate her.

She was still dodging her parents’ calls. She was even thinking of moving out, absolutely phobic of them popping up one day and seeing what she had become.

Quietly, Maggie continued her search for the goth guy who had started this whole thing. She searched the online yearbooks of local high schools and colleges, and even hired a sketch artist so she could have a vague approximation of what he looked like. She wished she could enlist the help of authorities in her search, but it was never going to happen. Her problem was supernatural, and her body, humiliating.

Over the next few months, Maggie went through pregnancies with rabbits, more puppies, and disgustingly, a large litter of various rodents—gerbils, mice, ferrets, and more. She had a batch of reptiles, mostly live snakes, which resulted in a strange and frightening birth. The litter of fennec foxes were interesting, and almost too exotic, but they proved sellable. The raccoon litter was a horrifying surprise that sent Maggie into a fit of cursing.

There was a pregnancy with a large variety of eggs—mostly chicken—but also parrot, cockatiels, parakeets, and various other birds, some pet, and some wild. This included a huge ostrich egg that left her straining and sobbing for at least an hour as she struggled to push it out.

Her most recent birth had yielded a litter of white, fucking, tiger cubs. It was another batch of worthless inventory. They couldn’t even sell it legally, and Maggie was frustrated. It had been a particularly active and exhausting pregnancy. House cats would have been preferable or even servals or ocelots. Tigers were overkill. It peeved her that she had no control over what she produced.

For every sellable animal that Maggie birthed, there seemed to be one or two that she had to get rid of. Tom continued to make partnerships with farms, zoos, animal sanctuaries, and various other organizations to ensure that they weren’t completely overwhelmed by the useless supply.

“Hardly sets us back at all,” Tom reasoned one evening, as he sat on the couch and poured himself a glass of wine. He poured a cup of milk for Maggie, who scowled at him.

“It’s a set-back for my body,” Maggie grumbled.

Tom raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Every pregnancy takes a lot out of me. And I get bigger, and fatter, and look—fucking whiskers.”

Tom blinked and leaned forward, to really scrutinize her. “How did I miss that?” He flicked one.

“Stop.” Maggie shoved his hand away. “If you haven’t noticed, I don’t like being pregnant continually. And if I am, I’d at least want it to be worth something to the business.”

“Are you sure you don’t like it?” Tom countered, sliding his hand to Maggie’s rounded stomach, rubbing one of the nubs. What had been six, were now eight nipples along her torso running in two parallel lines. They had gotten puffier with the recent pregnancy. Maggie groaned and couldn’t help arching into Tom’s touch.

Later, she snipped her whiskers off and resolved to do so every time they grew back.

Maggie’s new pregnancy was a…gassy one. She found she was constantly belching. She was also flushed and sweaty, skin always hot. She couldn’t seem to stop eating, and she could see the growth almost immediately. Soon there was squirming, lethargic movement that filled her insides as her flesh grew fuller at a rapid pace.

She was developing a third pair of full breasts, but was resigned by then, and didn’t fight the reality of them. She didn’t mention it, she just let Tom discover them on his own, and she let him rub, massage, and suck the mounds as her breathing shuddered and thighs twitched. She allowed the new breasts to grow from As to Bs, then Cs and beyond at a frightfully rapid rate that was as uncomfortable as it was arousing. With Tom’s regular ministrations, the new mounds grew enough to heave up the breasts above them, and to stick out visibly in her shirts. Dean and Amelia would do double-takes when they spotted it at first, but no one remarked. Everyone just accepted Maggie’s continued transformation. It had become normal. Expected, even.

Soon Maggie’s belly was huge, her six breasts protruding harshly, round and already bloated full with hot milk.

Her belly was more massive than it had been with any of her prior pregnancies. The nipples that trailed her gut were swollen and protruding evidently enough that the others took notice of those as well. And they had gathered little pouches of fat beneath them, which had never occurred previously, and made an odd sight on her already inflated torso.

Maggie expected mammals, and hoped for something useful, like puppies or kittens. A big batch of them. Please no more zoo animals, she would think rubbing her mound, willing it to be a worthwhile stock.

Her belly button was the size of a golf ball. She was massively large, yet she refused to crumble under the pressure of it.

She walked about panting, clutching what she could of the huge expanse. Tom seemed to always be just an elbow-width away.

Maggie received an urgent phone call from Dean late one evening. She had already gone to bed, Tom fast asleep beside her.

“Yeah?” said Maggie groggily.

“Maggie, there’s trouble at the shop. We need you here now. It’s an emergency.”

Maggie was suddenly wide awake. “What happened?”

“I don’t have time to explain. Just get over here.” With that, Dean hung up.

“Fuck,” muttered Maggie, cupping at the lurching sensation in her massive midsection. She tried to wake Tom with increasingly hard shoves, but he typically slept like a corpse. He would not get up.

It took Maggie at least five minutes to struggle out of bed, after which she was red and gasping. Her bolder of a belly was shoved out before her, and she suspected the only reason she managed to remain balanced was pure will and a little aid from her plump hips and swollen backside.

She had stopped driving a while ago, and could hardly fit behind the steering wheel of her car, but somehow she managed. She drove to the shop and waddled her way inside, by then feeling like her knees would buckle beneath her.

It was dark, and quiet, with no sign of human presence or any sort of emergency. Even the animals were strangely quiet. “Dean?” Maggie panted, as she reached for the light switch and flicked it on.

“SURPRISE!”

The cacophony of cheers had her stumbling back, nearly toppling, but her back pressed into a firm chest, and hands that cradled her flanks. She looked back at a well-dressed, and fully conscious, Tom Bennett.

“What is all this?” Maggie turned back to the crowd of people. Her instinct was to hide, but as she looked at each face, she realized that each one of them was a colleague, partner, investor, or someone who was otherwise involved in the shop. Even one of the temp workers was there. Whether Maggie had sold them animals, taken them on as investors, or employees, or healthcare workers, they all knew about her condition. It was a little astonishing to realize that her secret was barely even a secret anymore.

“It’s the one-year anniversary of your first litter. The kittens,” Amelia aided, grinning wildly.

“Maggie, this journey with you has been life-changing,” Simon said.

“Just a small expression of our gratitude.” Sturges shrugged.

The place had been altered drastically, looking more like a sumptuous banquet than a family pet shop. There were waiters and catering. Maggie looked down at herself in her striped pajamas, stretched so tightly, diamonds of flesh protruded between the straining buttons.

“I brought you some clothes,” Tom offered. “We’re going to get changed,” he called louder. They applauded as he guided Maggie off, as though the announcement warranted it. Maggie soon found herself in her office, feeling dizzy about the whole thing.

Tom showed her a dress which must have been custom made, because it was absolutely massive around the belly, yet it fit her almost properly, hugging her form where it would had probably been looser a few days ago. Still, it had been a while since Maggie had been able to put on anything that her body didn’t protrude from or didn’t resemble a potato sack in its amorphousness. The neckline dipped low into the sweaty cleavage of her highest pair of breasts.

“How are you feeling?” Tom said.

“Confused,” Maggie admitted. “This is ridiculous.” She nodded to the door.

“Let’s go out.” Tom grinned, guiding her gently, Maggie’s belly bobbing awkwardly.

It was admittedly nice not to be holed up in her home or office, in hiding. She couldn’t remember the last time she had partaken in a party, and she felt herself start to loosen up, though her body only tensed and tightened.

People were almost sycophantic in their complements, constantly citing what an amazing job she was doing, and how well she played her role in the company. She was constantly given praise and dishes to try, and Maggie felt herself being sucked into the eerie pleasantness of it all. Then she felt the moisture on her dress.

She looked down at herself, and could see that four of her breasts were leaking, the final pair stinging, but not quite at that point. She could feel herself redden, frustrated as usual by her lack of control over her body. Someone touched her shoulder. Lara Gibson, one of the zoo managers she worked with.

“I can’t believe how good you are at breeding,” Lara stated frankly as she marveled at Maggie’s form. “And so damn fertile. Wasn’t that last batch in the thirties?”

Maggie didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. Tom just looked vaguely amused by the whole thing.

The food being served was comprised of all Maggie’s favorites. She found herself stuffing her face every moment that she wasn’t giving acerbic responses to party guests, even as her stomach grew uncomfortably tight.

By then she was sweaty and exhausted, her back tense, and her body feeling like it could tear to pieces from the sheer pressure of baby animals. Tom helped her to a large seat, Maggie’s massive mound perching heavily on her lap. Her breasts were stacked atop her belly and the position made them shove up into her chin.

Maggie leaned back, arching, giving her breasts some space. She moaned quietly at the relief this offered her compressed spine.

“You’re really flushed,” Tom remarked.

“No shit.” Maggie belched, then groaned as her insides stirred.

Her skin seemed almost pink these days. And it never ceased to be burning hot. She had taken more ice baths than she could count, but it offered little in terms of prolonged relief.

“Maggie, look,” said Tom. Maggie felt his hand on the side of her belly.

Maggie managed to look down, her hand palming the spot Tom was indicating. She felt the dampness against her belly, and at first she thought it was sweat. But the almost pleasant stinging sensation made things all too clear to her.

“First time those ones have leaked,” said Tom thoughtfully.

“They’ve been…swollen,” said Maggie through her grimace, shifting slightly, trying to get comfortable.

It wasn’t just her nipples. The tension inside her womb had been progressively growing, and she was struggling to bear it, because, inexplicably, she was actually enjoying herself for once.

She could tell her belly had gotten low, as she had unconsciously clutched it most of the night, trying to support it against the strain on her back. Her breasts had been less high on the shelf of her belly, instead perching more relaxed, at least when she was standing. It had been a relief. They were so tender, full, and hot.

“Ready to get up?”

“Yeah,” Maggie said. She allowed Tom to help her to stand.

She felt another rise in tension, the telltale squeeze of a contraction. But breathlessly, she ignored it for the time being, in favor of refilling her plate.

She had made it through only a few more conversations, when the contractions started coming dangerously fast. It was always the same, with animals. Soon she was sticky with sweat, her milk glass gripped tight in her hand. She could feel something defiantly shoving low inside of her and hardly contained the urge to reach back and clutch her groin.

“Are you in labor?” Tom asked casually. He seemed unbothered by Maggie’s visible distress.

“Yeah,” Maggie admitted, and perhaps they were being too loud, because the people around them had the audacity to cheer and clap, until it spread around the room, guests descending to giggles, or cooing as Tom rubbed Maggie’s back.

“’Bout time,” someone whispered loudly.

“If you’ll excuse us for a bit,” said Tom, leading off Maggie, who was hobbling by then.

“Call me if you need anything,” Sturges said.

“Of course,” Tom assured.

This whole thing is demented, Maggie thought, as she was ushered back into her office.

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Comments (4)
user avatar
User #230963 - 26 Mar 20 06:57
What a gassy fat piglet Mama Maggie has become; I love it!
user avatar
Kompera - 27 Mar 20 03:52
Haha, you always know :DD
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User #4803830 - 26 Mar 20 11:08
Fuck yes, loved this one Kompera. The last few have progressed quite slowly, so I love the timeskip as a way to progress the changes rapidly. Fingers still crossed for hoofed feet or a tail.
user avatar
Kompera - 27 Mar 20 03:56
Haha, glad you enjoyed :D
Pet Shop, Part 19 - Male Version 2020-03-26T01:20:23+00:00

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Summary: An animal breeder is cursed to start personally giving birth to supply his pet shop with animals. Contains: Male: belly expansion, breast expansion, lactation, multiple breasts.

Previous Chapter

-

Everyone was investing more than ever in the business, buying more stock, acquiring as much ownership as they could. Mindy had made a down payment on an investment property, and Dean was in the process of purchasing a Maserati. Even Simon had upgraded to a more posh wardrobe. Jack knew he was wealthier than ever before, and he was surrounded by people continually trying to placate him.

He was still dodging his parents’ calls. He was even thinking of moving out, absolutely phobic of them popping up one day and seeing what he had become.

Quietly, Jack continued his search for the goth girl who had started this whole thing. He searched the online yearbooks of local high schools and colleges, and even hired a sketch artist so he could have a vague approximation of what she looked like. He wished he could enlist the help of authorities in his search, but it was never going to happen. His problem was supernatural, and his body, humiliating.

Over the next few months, Jack went through pregnancies with rabbits, more puppies, and disgustingly, a large litter of various rodents—gerbils, mice, ferrets, and more. He had a batch of reptiles, mostly live snakes, which resulted in a strange and frightening birth. The litter of fennec foxes were interesting, and almost too exotic, but they proved sellable. The raccoon litter was a horrifying surprise that sent Jack into a fit of cursing.

There was a pregnancy with a large variety of eggs—mostly chicken—but also parrot, cockatiels, parakeets, and various other birds, some pet, and some wild. This included a huge ostrich egg that left him straining and sobbing for at least an hour as he struggled to push it out.

His most recent birth had yielded a litter of white, fucking, tiger cubs. It was another batch of worthless inventory. They couldn’t even sell it legally, and Jack was frustrated. It had been a particularly active and exhausting pregnancy. House cats would have been preferable or even servals or ocelots. Tigers were overkill. It peeved him that he had no control over what he produced.

For every sellable animal that Jack birthed, there seemed to be one or two that he had to get rid of. Tom continued to make partnerships with farms, zoos, animal sanctuaries, and various other organizations to ensure that they weren’t completely overwhelmed by the useless supply.

“Hardly sets us back at all,” Tom reasoned one evening, as he sat on the couch and poured himself a glass of wine. He poured a cup of milk for Jack, who scowled at him.

“It’s a set-back for my body,” Jack grumbled.

Tom raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Every pregnancy takes a lot out of me. And I get bigger, and fatter, and look—fucking whiskers.”

Tom blinked and leaned forward, to really scrutinize him. “How did I miss that?” He flicked one.

“Stop.” Jack shoved his hand away. “If you haven’t noticed, I don’t like being pregnant continually. And if I am, I’d at least want it to be worth something to the business.”

“Are you sure you don’t like it?” Tom countered, sliding his hand to Jack’s rounded stomach, rubbing one of the nubs. What had been six, were now eight nipples along his torso running in two parallel lines. They had gotten puffier with the recent pregnancy. Jack groaned and couldn’t help arching into Tom’s touch.

Later, he snipped his whiskers off and resolved to do so every time they grew back.

Jack’s new pregnancy was a…gassy one. He found he was constantly belching. He was also flushed and sweaty, skin always hot. He couldn’t seem to stop eating, and he could see the growth almost immediately. Soon there was squirming, lethargic movement that filled his insides as his flesh grew fuller at a rapid pace.

He was developing a third pair of full breasts, but was resigned by then, and didn’t fight the reality of them. He didn’t mention it, he just let Tom discover them on his own, and he let Tom rub, massage, and suck the mounds as his breathing shuddered and his dick jabbed hard against the underside of his swollen stomach. He allowed the new breasts to grow from As to Bs, then Cs and beyond at a frightfully rapid rate that was as uncomfortable as it was arousing. With Tom’s regular ministrations, the new mounds grew enough to heave up the breast above them, and to stick out visibly in his shirts. Dean and Mindy would do double-takes when they spotted it at first, but no one remarked. Everyone just accepted Jack’s continued transformation. It had become normal. Expected, even.

Soon Jack’s belly was huge, his six breasts protruding harshly, round and already bloated full with hot milk.

His belly was more massive than it had been with any of his prior pregnancies. The nipples that trailed his gut were swollen and protruding evidently enough that the others took notice of those as well. And they had gathered little pouches of fat beneath them, which had never occurred previously, and made an odd sight on his already inflated torso.

Jack expected mammals, and hoped for something useful, like puppies or kittens. A big batch of them. Please no more zoo animals, he would think rubbing his mound, willing it to be a worthwhile stock.

His belly button was the size of a golf ball. He was massively large, yet he refused to crumble under the pressure of it.

He walked about panting, clutching what he could of the huge expanse. Tom seemed to always be just an elbow-width away.

Jack received an urgent phone call from Dean late one evening. He had already gone to bed, Tom fast asleep beside him.

“Yeah?” said Jack groggily.

“Jack, there’s trouble at the shop. We need you here now. It’s an emergency.”

Jack was suddenly wide awake. “What happened?”

“I don’t have time to explain. Just get over here.” With that, Dean hung up.

“Fuck,” muttered Jack, cupping at the lurching sensation in his massive midsection. He tried to wake Tom with increasingly hard shoves, but Tom typically slept like a corpse. He would not get up.

It took Jack at least five minutes to struggle out of bed, after which he was red and gasping. His bolder of a belly was shoved out before him, and he suspected the only reason he managed to remain balanced was pure will and a little aid from his swollen backside.

He had stopped driving a while ago, and could hardly fit behind the steering wheel of his car, but somehow he managed. He drove to the shop and waddled his way inside, by then feeling like his knees would buckle beneath him.

It was dark, and quiet, with no sign of human presence or any sort of emergency. Even the animals were strangely quiet. “Dean?” Jack panted, as he reached for the light switch and flicked it on.

“SURPRISE!”

The cacophony of cheers had him stumbling back, nearly toppling, but his back pressed into a firm chest, and hands that cradled his flanks. He looked back at a well-dressed, and fully conscious, Tom Bennett.

“What is all this?” Jack turned back to the crowd of people. His instinct was to hide, but as he looked at each face, he realized that each one of them was a colleague, partner, investor, or someone who was otherwise involved in the shop. Even one of the temp workers was there. Whether Jack had sold them animals, taken them on as investors, or employees, or healthcare workers, they all knew about his condition. It was a little astonishing to realize that his secret was barely even a secret anymore.

“It’s the one-year anniversary of your first litter. The kittens,” Mindy aided, grinning wildly.

“Jack, this journey with you has been life-changing,” Simon said.

“Just a small expression of our gratitude.” Sturges shrugged.

The place had been altered drastically, looking more like a sumptuous banquet than a family pet shop. There were waiters and catering. Jack looked down at himself in his striped pajamas, stretched so tightly, diamonds of flesh protruded between the straining buttons.

“I brought you some clothes,” Tom offered. “We’re going to get changed,” he called louder. They applauded as he guided Jack off, as though the announcement warranted it. Jack soon found himself in his office, feeling dizzy about the whole thing.

Tom offered a button down which must have been custom made, because it was absolutely massive around the belly, yet it fit him almost properly, hugging his form where it would had probably been looser a few days ago. Still, it had been a while since Jack had been able to put on anything that his body didn’t protrude from or didn’t resemble a potato sack in its amorphousness.

“How are you feeling?” Tom said, once he had helped Jack into a pair of custom-made maternity trousers that felt snug around the posterior.

“Confused,” Jack admitted. “This is ridiculous.” He nodded to the door.

“Let’s go out.” Tom grinned, guiding him gently, Jack’s belly bobbing awkwardly.

It was admittedly nice not to be holed up in his home or office, in hiding. He couldn’t remember the last time he had partaken in a party, and he felt himself start to loosen up, though his body only tensed and tightened.

People were almost sycophantic in their complements, constantly citing what an amazing job he was doing, and how well he played his role in the company. He was constantly given praise and dishes to try, and Jack felt himself being sucked into the eerie pleasantness of it all. Then he felt the moisture on his shirt.

He looked down at himself, and could see that four of his breasts were leaking, the final pair stinging, but not quite at that point. He could feel himself redden, frustrated as usual by his lack of control over his body. Someone touched his shoulder. Lara Gibson, one of the zoo managers he worked with.

“I can’t believe how good you are at breeding,” she stated frankly as she marveled at his form. “And so damn fertile. Wasn’t that last last batch in the thirties?”

Jack didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. Tom just looked vaguely amused by the whole thing.

The food being served was comprised of all Jack’s favorites. He found himself stuffing his face every moment that he wasn’t giving acerbic responses to party guests, even as his stomach grew uncomfortably tight.

By then he was sweaty and exhausted, his back tense, and his body feeling like it could tear to pieces from the sheer pressure of baby animals. Tom helped him to a large seat, Jack’s massive mound perching heavily on his lap. His breasts were stacked atop his belly and the position made them shove up into his chin.

Jack leaned back, arching, giving his breasts some space. He moaned quietly at the relief this offered his compressed spine.

“You’re really flushed,” Tom remarked.

“No shit.” Jack belched, then groaned as his insides stirred.

His skin seemed almost pink these days. And it never ceased to be burning hot. He had taken more ice baths than he could count, but it offered little in terms of prolonged relief.

“Jack, look,” said Tom. Jack felt Tom’s hand on the side of his belly.

Jack managed to look down, his hand palming the spot Tom was indicating. He felt the dampness against his belly, and at first he thought it was sweat. But the almost pleasant stinging sensation made things all too clear to him.

“First time those ones have leaked,” said Tom thoughtfully.

“They’ve been…swollen,” said Jack through his grimace, shifting slightly, trying to get comfortable.

It wasn’t just his nipples. The tension inside his gut had been progressively growing, and he was struggling to bear it, because, inexplicably, he was actually enjoying himself for once.

He could tell his belly had gotten low, as he had unconsciously clutched it most of the night, trying to support it against the strain on his back. His breasts had been less high on the shelf of his belly, instead perching more relaxed, at least when he was standing. It had been a relief. They were so tender, full, and hot.

“Ready to get up?”

“Yeah,” Jack said. He allowed Tom to help him to stand.

He felt another rise in tension, the telltale squeeze of a contraction. But breathlessly, he ignored it for the time being, in favor of refilling his plate.

He had made it through only a few more conversations, when the contractions started coming dangerously fast. It was always the same, with animals. Soon he was sticky with sweat, his milk glass gripped tight in his hand. He could feel something defiantly shoving low inside of him and hardly contained the urge to reach back and clutch his ass.

“Are you in labor?” Tom asked casually. He seemed unbothered by Jack’s visible distress.

“Yeah,” Jack admitted, and perhaps they were being too loud, because the people around them had the audacity to cheer and clap, until it spread around the room, guests descending to giggles, or cooing as Tom rubbed Jack’s back.

“’Bout time,” someone whispered loudly.

“If you’ll excuse us for a bit,” said Tom, leading off Jack, who was hobbling by then.

“Call me if you need anything,” Sturges said.

“Of course,” Tom assured.

This whole thing is demented, Jack thought, as he was ushered back into his office.

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Comments (2)
user avatar
User #134276 - 26 Mar 20 02:37
I loooooove this, I love how crazy it is as her transforms more, can’t wait for the next part
user avatar
Kompera - 27 Mar 20 03:55
Thanks so much :D
Campus, Part 5 - Male Version 2020-03-23T10:07:01+00:00

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Note: This is a male version of Campus.

Summary: When Simon leaves home for the first time and starts college, he immediately notices that his campus has a shockingly high fertility rate, among other things. Contains: Male & Female: belly expansion, breast expansion, butt expansion, pregnancy, weight gain, birth.

Previous Chapter

-

Simon hummed uncomfortably through the throbs of heat and pressure. His abdomen pressed harder into his legs as he arched and tried to alleviate the unbearable tightness of it as it stretched out his shirt. He panted quietly, one of his hands pressing to his flushed cheek.

The other hand cradled the side of his churning mound, as it pushed and tightened, gently inching forward as he fidgeted beneath it.

He couldn’t believe how big he was getting. He tugged feebly at the hem of his shirt as it shrunk against him. His breasts grew fuller and heavier, bulging against his sagging neckline. He feared the shirt would tear, yet he had other things to worry about, such as his shuddering gut.

Thankfully everyone’s attention remained on the professor, who was releasing strangled groans with each of his contractions. The man was resolute in his attempts to finish the lesson, even when it was evident that he was now pushing out a baby under his desk.

Simon’s growth spurt eased down, leaving him a flushed, breathless, sweaty mess. His loins were tense and heavy, thighs quavering. He felt as though his baby was already low and trying to get out of him, yet still no labor. He shuddered and mopped some of the sweat from his face with his hand.

His nipples were hard, in fact, achingly tense, his breasts heaving up and down where they were perched atop the mound of his belly.

Simon was completely wiped out. Between that and Professor Sneed’s clear preoccupation, Simon had no hopes of gleaning anything from the lesson that day. Instead he sagged back and allowed himself to doze off.

-

He gasped awake some time later to the shuffling noises of everyone getting up to leave the class. Simon looked around, slightly disoriented.

It seemed Professor Sneed had had a quick labor, as he was now cradling a pair of infant twins in his arms.

Twins? Really? Simon thought in disbelief. Sneed hadn’t even been that round.

The Professor was flushed and weary but seemed remarkably composed. “Remember to review chapter eleven for Friday’s test,” he called out as students stuffed their books into their backpacks.

The usual flock of students shuffled for the door, men with huge packages bulging out obscenely between their thighs, and other students, both male and female, toting little bellies cradled lovingly with their hands.

Little? Simon thought, surprised with himself. Since when had he thought the students on campus to be little? They had always been ridiculously large to him.

But as Simon looked around the class, his heart sank, and he realized that few of the other students could come close to rivaling him in the size department anymore. Even the bizarre belly-fat girl Simon had spotted on one of his first days at campus seemed rather tame as she waddled for the door, hands clutching her round jiggling mound to support it as it bobbed on her torso.

Unease twisted in Simon’s gut, but he tried to dismiss it. It wouldn’t be long for him, he was sure. After three attempts, and a tremendous amount of effort, Simon managed to heave himself up to his feet, his face twisting into a grimace as he was acquainted with the full weight of his swollen body.

He waddled slowly for the door. His belly was wider than he was, his body feeling incredibly awkward as he tried to balance the jutting mound. He groaned as his insides gave a powerful lurch. He still couldn’t believe how huge he was. He looked like he might just burst, his mound throbbing and heaving, skin twitching, prodding out at the surface with the movements of whatever laid within. He released a quiet groan, clutching what he could of his mass. He looked as though he had a small bolder attached to him, his swollen breasts perched atop it.

It took effort to maneuver his body, aiming his mass through the doorway. The huge mound preceded his exit by seconds, and the sides looked close to scraping the doorframe. His plump ass stuck out behind him like two fat pillows, stretching his pants tightly against it. He was simply immense. Some crude god of fertility. He desperately wanted it to be over, but for the moment, he mainly just focused on not bumping his belly into things.

It was unsettling that he no longer fit in on the bizarre campus because of the fact that he himself had gotten too bizarre. He just wanted the whole ordeal to be over with, though he couldn’t envision what his ideal outcome would be.

“You just have to let go, Simon,” said Paul ominously that evening. “Just accept it. Let go.

“What are you talking about?” said Simon uneasily, from where he was sprawled back on the couch, breathlessly watching his belly heave.

Paul just smiled and shook his head. He lightly stroked his perfect little belly. “I’m going to call it a night.”

As Paul disappeared into his room, Simon dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling. Let go, Paul had said. It had to mean something. Simon feared he knew what Paul was getting at.

The mousy girl Simon had met the other day had specifically told him not to give birth on campus. That doing so would change him.

It wasn’t as though Simon had control of when he would go into labor. Well, he didn’t think he did. He was just aware of the low weight on his pelvis, that had him cupping the underside of his mound at times, like something might spill away at any moment. The pressure on his ass was tight and uncomfortable, a clenching sensation occupying his lower abdomen as though something was stuck there.

Simon lightly shook his head. He really didn’t have any control.

And there was no point in obsessing with the ramblings of some paranoid stranger.

Simon allowed his eyelids to drop. He cast his troubled thoughts aside, and eventually, managed to doze.

But it was not a restful sleep.

He was suddenly on all fours—or an attempt at that. His hands not making contact with the mattress beneath him, but instead one clutching his headboard while the other gripped at his pulsing midsection that was massively swollen even in his dreams.

Something was inside him. Someone. Their organ was thick and long, fantastically massive, as his body throbbed and clenched and sucked it in, as tight as he was, as huge as he was. Thrust after thrust, he groaned and rocked, growing redder and redder. His belly clenched and rolled, as he was pushed over the edge, his innards swelling, pushing, bulging out from his shuddering torso.

When Simon awoke, he was sprawled back, sweaty and panting. He felt as though he was pinned down beneath something, and he scrambled wildly until he managed to turn himself into his side. The erotic dreams were getting weirder than ever before.

Once he was fully aware of his surroundings, he took a few moments to catch his breath, his belly propped beside him, heaving gently as he stared at the way the huge mound laid on the mattress, probably big enough that a young man of his former build could have been curled up inside him. Simon lightly shook his head in he continued to stare in disbelief.

It took a while for him to heave himself up into a sitting position, thighs spread, hands planted firmly on the mattress behind him as he arched his sore back. He groaned as his nipples rubbed against the overtaxed T-shirt that covered them, rendered a belly-shirt. His nipples had gotten quite large and swollen, the size of fat-grapes by then, continuously erect. They ached at times, but the discomfort of his chest didn’t come close to the awkward sensation that seemed to continuously occupy his groin.

His lower abdomen felt tight and pressurized, and it almost felt as though something was lodged there, throbbing forcefully, wanting to push out of him, but instead simply sitting low in his pelvis as his body gently contracted against it. He knew he wasn’t imagining the tension, but wondered if he was doing it on purpose, desperate to give birth.

His belly rolled, and the urge to push grew more intense, but in his panic, Simon held back, clenching tightly, even clutching at the underside of his mound. He wasn’t in active labor. This didn’t even make sense. His ass quavered, but again he fought it, pulling, squeezing, drawing the weight back, until he was shuddering and rubbing what he could reach of his hips, face red and twisted at the bizarrely congested sensation.

And now he was scared. He should have just pushed. Allow whatever was meant to happen to just happen already.

Yet he couldn’t stop thinking about what the odd girl had told him. To get off campus. Not to give birth here.

Simon hissed quietly as he suffered a barrage of cuffs and kicks. His baby felt like an eight-limbed octopus inside of him. He rubbed at it hard with the palms of his hands, until the wriggling eased enough that he was willing to move again.

Getting up was a struggle, and once on his feet, he was reduced to a staggering waddle. He clutched what he could of his massive belly as he moved around. He was practically rocking in his awkward gait, heaving his body forward with every tentative step he took. His mound swelled out and in, and Simon found that he was perpetually breathless even when he was stationary. Worse, he was only getting bigger. He didn’t know how much longer he would be able to support his mass.

When he went about the college, those who didn’t stare seemed so very proud of him. They gave him encouraging smiles and nods while cupping at their own bulging midsections. The larger he grew the greater their glee. He was beginning to look as though he had a baby elephant curled inside of him.

There was a sense of relatability—comradery—that had not been present when Simon had first arrived on campus. His classmates were more welcoming, and inviting, than ever. They wanted to take him in. They wanted him to become one of them.

That afternoon, Simon couldn’t get up.

After 10 minutes, and several attempts to swing his body out of his chair, he found himself a gasping, sweat-soaked mess, with his professor and several classmates standing around him in ostensible concern.

Simon was planted firmly in his seat, his desk pushed so far away from him by his belly that it had been rendered useless days ago. He was a large stretched shirt that hugged his swollen tits, fat ass, and massive belly, the material and hugging him tightly, round tits practically popping out of the neckline.

Simon huffed for a while, shaking his head. This can’t be happening, he thought.

“Not to worry, I sent for the nurse,” said Professor Durpin, his pelvis outward, the outline of his massive cock going practically halfway down his leg. The door swung open, and a heavily pregnant woman in a nurse’s uniform waddled in, pushing a large wheelchair ahead of her.

“Completely understandable considering your condition,” said the nurse as she came to Simon’s side. She stood with her back to the professor’s, her plump ass almost certainly making contact with the professor’s groin.

Durpin tilted his head, exchanging Simon’s appalled look with a superficial one of concern. Simon thought he was being gaslighted, he had to be.

“What condition?” asked Simon, wondering if someone would actually acknowledge it.

“Oh dear.” The nurse shook her head.

Simon groaned out as several of his classmates heaved him into the wheelchair.

The nurse frowned. “You’re weak. I brought you a snack, sweetie.” The woman rummaged in her gigantic purse and withdrew a large deli block of cheese. An actual five pound block. She stuffed it into Simon’s arms, and despite himself, Simon peeled back the wrapping and began to nibble on it while glaring around.

“Bring him back to his dorm,” the nurse commanded. “You’re taking the rest of the day off.”

Hardly having the energy to protest, Simon allowed himself to be wheeled away.

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Clause II, Part 4 - Female Version 2020-03-18T14:19:43+00:00

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Note: This is a female version of Clause II.

Summary: To meet the requirements of a will and inherit her family fortune, a train-wreck of a woman is forced to become a pregnant BBW with the help of a quirky doctor. Contains: Female: pregnancy, belly expansion, breast expansion, butt expansion, weight gain.

Previous Chapter

-

Diana arrived to her 20-week appointment, winded as usual. As much as she tried to incorporate more and more calories into her daily meal plan, she was still having difficulty getting it all down. Her stuffing sessions were exhausting, and her weight-gain disturbed her to no end, but it still, apparently, was not enough.

Reed took her weight, as usual. “14 pounds for the month,” she said, with none of the optimism that usual adorned her voice. “You’re up to 169.”

Over the past two months, Diana had quickly progressed to DDD-cup breasts. They were immense—bigger than any natural tits she had seen on a woman. They were fat, round, and perk, and they scared her a little. Only a week before, she had finally resorted to getting some new bras, but now her breast flesh was bulging out of them.

“You have to do better with your weight,” Reed was saying. “We have to catch up.

She resented Reed’s usage of “we,” as though she shared any part in Diana’s ongoing torture.

“Catch up?” said Diana weakly, looking down at her belly. She looked due with one baby, and she was only five months along. She was getting so big, and so quickly. It was unnerving. “Can I—can I use the bathroom?”

“Sure, right there.” Reed gestured to a door. She offered her a hand, but Diana refused her assistance as she eased herself off the exam table.

Diana locked herself inside and leaned heavily on the wall. She missed partying, drinking, and sleeping around. Now she was just becoming fat and matronly, and it was all quite horrifying. She couldn’t believe she was over 150 pounds!

Diana sucked in a long breath and went over to the full-length mirror. Besides her breasts and her belly, her ass was sticking out prominently behind her. She had resorted to wearing leggings most of the time, but even those were getting too fucking tight, more of her ass crack seeming to bulge over the back waistband every month she progressed.

Her hips had gotten wider too, framing her belly. Her arms were slightly softer, thighs, a bit thicker. She was packing on the pounds, and everything about her was just…changing.

-

At six months, Diana had to visit the estate again for another check in. The hardest part about it was finding fifteen inches of clothing to accommodate her girth.

She was up to 183 pounds, and it was hell on her small frame.

Between her gluttonous diet and daily massaging, her breasts had surged up to EE-cups. A half hour of every day was spent sprawled in bed, rubbing the mounds, as she grunted and tried to keep herself in control. She could practically feel the mounds pressing harder into the palms of her hand. And as much as she resented what she was doing, she wasn’t going to let it be in vain. Though she wanted her breasts to be anthill-As, she complied with Reed’s instructions to massage them with oils and creams to get them to swell up as much as possible.

Her bras had no hopes of fitting her anymore. In fact, there was little that still fit her at all. The thought of finding 15-inches of apparel to accommodate her was laughable.

In her vast shortage of options, Diana settled on one of her strapless DDD-cups bras, that were uncomfortably tight, and left her breasts bulging heavily out from all sides. Aside from concealing her nipples and areola, the bra did little else. Her round breasts were left shelved on her belly, looking almost unnatural in their plumpness by then. Her nipples were protruding considerably against the fabric, continuously erect and large as coke caps.

Diana could no longer find underwear that could accommodate her unnaturally round ass, so pulled on a large thong, atop which she put on a spandex miniskirt. She was short on options, and nothing else seemed to fit her, certainly nothing that was fifteen inches or less. By then, it seemed painfully clear to Diana that her deceased aunt really was a sicko.

Wrapping a sheet around herself, Diana headed outside. It took a great amount of effort for her just to get into her car and adjust herself so her belly wasn’t pressing the steering wheel.

She sped off to her aunt’s estate, arriving there within minutes. She struggled to walk properly, not with a wobble or waddle, or whatever else hugely pregnant people did. She pushed open the doors, to find several dozen stares directed towards her. She threw the sheet off from around her shoulders.

Diana’s face was flushed, her body sweaty from the mere exertion of the trip. Her bare belly was large enough that she looked overdue with child, maybe twins. Her bellybutton protruded considerably.

Her breasts strained against the too-small bra she was wearing. They looked ready to burst free at any moment. Her skirt looked ready to tear apart against her rounded hips and swollen ass. Diana’s surrounding cousins looked speechless, as did Mr. Maroon.

“Fifteen inches,” said Diana snidely. Her voice cracked a bit, but she continued, “You didn’t think I’d get this far, did you? In only another couple of months-” Diana swallowed. “I’ll have my inheritance. All this suffering will pay off. And then you fools can go back to whatever holes you crawled out of, because you’re not getting—” Diana panted. “—not getting a—dime.” She hadn’t realized her growing hostility and now it was all spilling out of her at once. Between her physical changes, and her cousins’ gaping, a dam of frustration had broken.

“Not a dime,” Diana repeated, chuckling breathlessly. Her nipples were bulging more prominently, almost painfully in her excitement, her areola puffing out, and becoming more evident against the tightly-stretched bra.

Far from noticing, Diana forced out another chuckle, but then a hiccup escaped her, and she covered her mouth. Feeling rather winded, she uneasily made her way over to a chair. She eased herself into it, ignoring the continued stares. Diana panted for a while, noticing Penny approach. Like the others, she seemed completely shocked by the extent of Diana’s transformation.

“Are you okay?” said Penny meekly.

“Yeah,” said Diana sarcastically. “Why wouldn’t I—oh!” She clutched her navel. “Oh god,” she hissed, rubbing it.

“What is it?” said Penny worriedly.

Something was—moving. Something was wiggling, and moving inside of her!

“I…eugh…I have to go,” Diana managed, struggling to stand. It took her a bit of time, but soon enough, she was out the door, then in her car, the wiggling persisting.

She tried her best to ignore it as she drove off.

-

At seven months pregnant, Diana had looked as though she was overdue with triplets.

Now that she was eight, she simply looked like she was an accessory to a large, pregnant belly.

“You’re up to 225!” said Dr. Reed, distracting Diana from her thoughts.

Oh god, Diana thought. She was 225, almost her goal of 240 pounds. Reed was celebrating, but Diana felt mostly disgusted with herself.

“You’ve more than met your needs for the month, Diana. I’m proud of you. You should be proud of yourself. And with a month left, the next 15 pounds should be a piece of cake.”

Just the mention of cake made Diana’s stomach growl, loudly. She reddened as Reed smiled.

At first she had been trying to “catch up,” put on weight so she could meet Clause 2’s stipulations. But at some strange point in her pregnancy, she had become accustomed to stuffing herself over capacity with food. She soon found she was constantly eating, more for sport than purpose. And she constantly wanted to, her hunger insatiable. Just that morning, she had polished down a pepperoni pizza as a post-breakfast snack. At present, she was sucking down one of the thick buttery, sweet smoothies Reed often provided her with during the appointments. They were loaded with hormones, fatteners, and other things that would encourage breast growth. She should have been revolted by it, yet she continued drink.

Diana threw a glance down at the GG-cups shelved atop her belly. They were practically popping out of the tank top she was wearing. They were round as honeydews, their mass strangely pressurized. It was new, but Diana was too preoccupied with other things to pay it much mind.

Her ass growth thankfully seemed to have slowed down, whereas her belly growth had done the opposite, the mass filling her lap, pressing her breasts higher. Her belly was poking completely out from beneath her top. There were few things that could accommodate it anymore. The babies squirmed sluggishly, a result of their size. But they were healthy. And happy, if judging by the way they wiggled when Diana consumed.

Besides that, Diana’s face was rounder, shoulders, hips, thighs, all coated in a layer of fat. Even her lips seemed plumper. She had become obscenely feminine. On the scarce occasions she wasn’t indoors, or in her car, people seemed drawn to her femininity, as though she was giving off pheromones or something. Men continued to hit on her despite that she was practically bursting with babies. It was all just very unsettling to her.

-

Diana was nine months pregnant, and had overdone it a bit. She had surpassed her weight goal. She was up to 250. But as much as she mourned those stray ten pounds, she couldn’t help feeling relieved that she had reached her goal.

She was at term with child, and had doubled her original body weight. She had done her check-ins at the estate wearing no more than fifteen inches of apparel, and she had fulfilled all these stipulations within the time limit stated on her aunt’s will.

There was just one final thing.

“Diana must meet on my estate with the will executor one final time, not less than two weeks following the completion of the third trimester. Diana must achieve all of these things prior to the natural birth of her child or children.”

She didn’t think she could be pushed much further, but she knew she had to do it. She just had to hold out for two more weeks. Two weeks overdue. Diana rubbed her belly, absently wondering whether her aunt was a sicko or a sadist. Then again, the two things weren’t mutually exclusive.

“Ohh…” she groaned, as one of the babies gave a particularly rough squirm. It was getting rather packed in there.

Reed gave Diana a reassuring smile. “I want to hold off on giving you any labor-delaying drugs. I can only keep you on that for short periods of time. Besides, I think the healthiest option is to use natural methods – relaxation, meditation, massage, etcetera.”

Diana distractedly nodded, still breathing, and rubbing her belly as Reed prattled on.

Her belly had grown to be wider than she was, and it was practically pulsating. She was breathless continuously, and could only stand for short periods before she started shaking and sweating.

She had to spread her legs wide to accommodate her belly when she sat down, and was seen clutching it most of the time. Her arms weren’t close to being able to encircle the mound. It dominated her torso.

Perched atop Diana’s belly were her HHH-cup breasts, which had been heaved up higher and higher, until they were pressing against her chin.

Diana had difficulty getting up, standing, walking, and doing most anything anymore. She hadn’t been able to drive for two months, and Reed mostly had her nurses or assistants take her to and from her appointments.

Just two more weeks, Diana silently reminded herself. Two weeks, and this would all be over.

-

When Diana hit the two week mark, it was probably the happiest she had ever been in her life. Too overwhelmed and exhausted to make her appointment with Maroon, she agreed to have Dr. Reed do it for her.

“Yes, Mr. Maroon please?” Reed said, giving Diana an excited smile as she spoke into her cell phone. Then Reed paused, her face falling. “Sorry?” Another pause. “He’s where? But how could he- But he has to-” She inhaled. “Right. I understand. Goodbye.”

As Reed hung up the phone, she did not look inspiring. Diana gave her a questioning look.

“He’s…away on business,” said Reed.

Diana felt a rush of anxiety. “What?”

“They said…he’ll be back in…two weeks.”

“Another…two…weeks?” Diana panted. Face flushed, she struggled to catch her breath. She grunted as the babies squirmed.

“Just two weeks,” said Reed, though even she seemed to be having trouble processing this turn of events. She looked at Diana in concern.

“I don’t think…I can last…that long.” Diana was red and huffing in her anxiety, her hair hanging in her round face. “Where…the fuck…is he?”

But wasn’t it obvious? It was a delaying tactic, typical of lawyers. Maroon was hoping to keep the inheritance out of Diana’s hands. Maybe one of the cousins had offered him a lofty cut.

“Try to stay calm Diana,” said Reed. “You don’t want to go into premature-“

“Premature?” said Diana. “I’m…over…due.” She clutched the sides of her massive belly.

She watched her belly rise and fall, rise and fall. She was impossibly large. Easily the largest pregnancy she had ever seen. Worse, she had managed to gain another seventeen pounds over the past two weeks. The babies were getting so big she was concerned about her labor.

“Why is this…happening?” gasped Diana, face flushed, skin sleek with sweat.

“I need you to calm down,” said Reed firmly. “It’s just another two weeks. You can do this Diana.” Reed got behind her, rubbing her shoulders. “Just another two weeks,” Reed repeated soothingly, trying to keep Diana, and the babies, relaxed. “Think about the miracle you’re performing. All the life you’re bringing.” But Diana’s shoulders continued to be tense. “Think about the 1.7 billion.”

“Okay.” Diana deeply inhaled. “Okay.”

-

Two weeks later, a black minivan pulled up to the Hardington estate. Journalists surrounded the compound. The minivan’s doors slid open. There was a long pause.

Cameras flashed as a large, round mass preceded a young woman’s exit of the back of the minivan. On both sides, she was flanked by a nurse, her expression contorted in discomfort as she was assisted waddling into the mansion, her belly scraping against either side of the doorway. Behind her was Doctor Laura Reed, smiling proudly as she waved at the crowd. The door snapped shut behind them.

“Someone must have leaked the story,” Reed said apologetically to Diana, though she continued to smile.

Diana was too distressed to care. She barely noticed her cousins standing around gawking at her as usual. They fell into whispers. Even Penny seemed at a loss for words.

Diana panted as she tried to gain some semblance of composure. That morning, she had measured 286 pounds. Her round, bloated ass stuck out behind her, reminiscent of the one Nicki Minaj flaunted, though larger. The JJ-cup globes on her chest were now not only fat, but warm, tingly, and pressurized from the inside, her nipples large and throbbing in anticipation.

Besides her plump hips, her thighs and arms had taken on a good layer of fat. Diana could no longer control her eating, and the weight had just kept piling on. She released a small belch that left her quavering and unbalanced, her attendants holding tightly onto her arms. Her belly had gotten simply immense. Diana was a month overdue with quintuplets, and looked ready to pop. She was wearing a massive custom-made dress that hugged her form and spandex leggings that were already shifting down the back of her plump bottom. From one mass to the next, she was quite the sight to behold.

“Come along Diana, let’s keep moving.” Reed directed the two nurses.

Diana was exhausted by the time she got into Maroon’s office. She carefully eased herself into the extra-wide chair that had been specifically acquired for the meeting. It creaked beneath her, the sides uncomfortably hugging her plumpened physique. The young woman groaned as the babies wiggled and squirmed.

Reed stood beside Diana. She placed her hand on her shoulder, hoping to comfort her. Diana was flushed and panting, her temples dotted with sweat. Her huge belly rose and fell as she struggled to catch her breath. She rubbed the top of the mound, massaging her skin beneath where her breasts were perched. She watched Maroon sit down at the desk opposite her, the lawyer’s eyes wide in amazement and alarm.

“As you can see,” said Diana breathlessly. “I have…nn…I’ve met all of the stipulations of…” Diana stopped to grunt. Her belly trembled, her massive dress gently tightening against it. Winded as she was, Diana managed to force out: “All the stipulations in the will. It’s…it’s time for payment.” Diana’s flushed face suddenly reddened more. “Oh god.” She squeezed her eyes shut.

Maroon, who had been gawking, snapped out of his stupor. “Are you all right?” he said nervously.

“She’s fine,” said Reed. “Stop stalling.”

Diana was busily rubbing her plump flesh. She could feel it shifting, tightening, the pressure inside her growing, the hem of her dress subtly sliding up. The babies wanted out, they wanted out so badly. Diana wasn’t sure she could contain them for much longer. She tried her best to remain composed as she was passed a clipboard piled with forms. She awkwardly grasped it and struggled to sign them, one by one, her chest aching, and her nipples swelling out further than she thought possible. She felt like a dam was about to break, and didn’t think she would be able to control it.

The pen trembled in Diana’s fingers just before she could sign the last form. “Ohh…” Her face contorted in discomfort. “Reed,” she groaned. Her doctor responded with soothing rubs against her lower belly. Diana could feel a baby pressing against her birth canal. She could feel her hips tightening, the plump lips of her gender swelling out. Shoulders trembling, Diana managed to sign the final page, and afterwards, she felt so relieved, she thought she could cry. It was over. Finally. After ten terrible months, she could give birth. She could resume life as normal. The thought of being slim, confident, and comfortable again was almost alien to Diana. It filled her with excitement. As she relaxed, her belly reacted to her resignation by pushing outwards three inches. Diana grunted and clutched it, immediately growing tense again.

Something was pushing against her opening. She could feel its largeness. Diana trembled in fear. The babies weren’t waiting any longer. “We have to go,” Diana grunted, trying to stand, but failing, and instead crumpling inwards as she was hit with an overpowering pain through her abdomen. The attending nurses hurried forward, and Diana was helped down to the carpeted floor, her leggings stretching at their seams as her bottom, hips, and gender bloated simultaneously.

“They’re so big,” she groaned. She didn’t know how she’d get them out of her. “Errrggh…” Her belly pushed outwards another two inches, then downwards, then it just shuddered. Diana was frightened. Everything relied on this birth. “Ohhhhh…” Her eyes squeezed shut as another pain shot through her. One of the nurses pulled up her dress so her sweat-sleeked belly protruded into full view.

Again coming out of her reverie, Mr. Maroon stood, awkwardly shuffling papers on his desk. “Well, congratulations young miss. Your money will be transferred to your account promptly after the, um, birth. The deeds and other property documents will also be provided within the next 24 hours. All that’s left for you is to fulfill is Clause 1.”

Diana opened one of her eyes. “Clause…1?” she gasped out.

She could feel her vaginal lips opening, a head pushing out from within her, but it was too big. Her face was hot and sweaty, her shoulders twisting in discomfort. Reed gave her belly soothing rubs, but it was little help. A medical curtain was being set up by one of the nurses as her pants were pulled down. Her hips bulged out wider, causing her to release a pained yelp. Her belly button expanded then relaxed.

“Arrghhh!” Diana felt the baby pushing more forcefully against her opening. She felt like she was going to pop. “What are… nghhh…you talking about…ahhhh…”

Maroon blushed, having again gotten lost in his fascination. He looked away as he said, “The final stipulation, as stated in Clause 1, is that you achieve your peak dimensions throughout your subsequent pregnancies.”

“S-subsequent?” Diana panted.

Reed reached down, feeling the head of a baby. Diana couldn’t see it, but she could feel the baby pushing, pushing hard. She had been told that each baby was, by then, the weight of a one-year-old. Diana grunted and twisted, struggling to breathe. Her nipples squirted, warm white fluid shooting into the air.

“Yes,” said Maroon. “Further, you must give birth every year to keep your fortune over the next 15 years. I think some congratulations are in order. It looks like you have a big family ahead of you.”

“Oh lovely,” said Reed with a little clap, unable to help herself.

Diana was dazed. Her body shifted and throbbed as more and more of her hips were filled with the first of her plump babies. And there were more to come. Many more. Fifteen years worth. It looked like she would be fulfilling her aunt’s will for much longer than she had intended.

“Oh god…” was all Diana could say. “Oh god...oh - nnnnn…nrrggghhh!!”


The End

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Comments (7)
user avatar
User #230963 - 18 Mar 20 20:47
Love her belching and uncontrollable stuffing. She got far fatter than she had to! I was hoping she'd have to fit pregnancies into her butt or breasts to meet the requirements but this was still lovely.
user avatar
User #27538928 - 19 Mar 20 20:03
All girls need to be made this way
user avatar
Kompera - 27 Mar 20 03:57
how have I still not done a butt pregnancy story?
user avatar
User #230963 - 27 Mar 20 20:18
Not sure; I assure you I keep on voting for them!
user avatar
Kompera - 15 Apr 20 08:17
:DD
user avatar
User #27538928 - 18 Mar 20 15:56
I think I'm going to do this to my girlfriend just fatten her up and keep her pregnant😍
user avatar
Kompera - 20 Mar 20 07:32
The contents of my stories are scifi/fantasy. I would not recommend anyone attempting these things in real life.
Neighbors, Part 4 2020-03-18T03:47:08+00:00

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Summary: Two neighbors are cursed. Whenever Zoe has unprotected sex, Emily becomes pregnant with the resultant offspring, and goes through a 1-month pregnancy, after which she gives birth. Both women are also now immune to sexually transmitted disease. Zoe finds it liberating that she can have sex without personal consequence, and cares little about the effects it has on her neighbor. Emily, meanwhile, is overwhelmed by the continuous pregnancies, and the increasing number of babies she is now apparently responsible for. However Emily has yet to explore the impact the curse has on Zoe. Contains: Female: pregnancy, belly expansion, breast expansion, butt expansion, weight gain, stuffing, and possibly more.

Previous Chapter

-

Emily was slumped in her hospital bed, her whole body aching. She felt dazed, weary, and strangely disconnected. A large, gurgling infant was clutched in her arms.

She was slowly starting to make sense of it all. At first, she had thought that she was just cursed by the statue, but Emily had come to realize that it was more than that.

She and Zoe were connected somehow. Crazy as it seemed, this baby wasn’t Emily’s. It couldn’t be Emily’s. In fact, it didn’t even look like her.

“So you finally popped it out,” someone drawled as the door opened. Emily looked up to see that Zoe had entered the hospital room.

“Three days of labor,” said Emily bitterly, her resentment towards the other woman only swelling. “I’m surprised you would come to visit me,” she added.

Zoe made a noncommittal noise in her throat. “You did squirt all over my living room floor.”

Emily grimaced at the crass account of her water breaking.

“Figure’d I’d come see the little monster.” Zoe’s eyes landed on the baby. “Wait, that thing’s huge. Tell me you didn’t give birth naturally?

Emily smiled angrily. “All seventeen pounds.”

“Seventee—christ, Pearson. What did you fuck, a mountain troll?” Zoe continued to scrutinize the baby, a perplexed look on her face.

“Actually.” Emily swallowed. “It’s yours.”

“Ha ha. That’s a good one. I’m in hysterics,” said Zoe flatly as she settled herself in the chair at Emily’s bedside. Zoe grimaced slightly and shifted her shoulders. Emily couldn’t help noticing how full Zoe’s chest was—her breasts looked even bigger than they had when Emily had last seen her. They were stretching out the tank top Zoe was wearing, looking round and perky even though it appeared that Zoe was not wearing a bra. Her nipples were surprising large, sticking out in the tight material. Zoe grimaced and shifted again. Not one for modesty, she reached up and cupped one of the mounds, massaging slightly with her hands. “My tits are killing me.”

Emily tore her gaze away. “Zoe, I’m serious. I really do think this is your baby.”

Zoe stopped in her fidgeting to give Emily her full attention. “You’re even crazier than I thought you were,” she mused aloud.

“I—I know how it sounds,” said Emily hurriedly. “But I haven’t had sex in ages. Edward and I actually were waiting. Then I turn up pregnant out of nowhere. And the statue—I think we’re connected somehow.”

Zoe opened her mouth, but her jaw just hung. It seemed that, for once, she had run out of witty insults. She was distinctly uncomfortable, which was certainly a new look on the woman.

And then Zoe’s gaze shifted and she heaved a long sigh. “So they gave you the good stuff.” She nodded to the morphine drip connected to Zoe’s IV. “For a second there I thought both of us were sober. Do you mind…?” And without waiting for a response, Zoe hijacked the drip and inserted it into her arm with the expertise of an addict. She sighed and slumped back, a mellow smile spreading across her face.

“Zoe!” said Emily in abject frustration.

“Shhhh, you’ll wake your enormous baby,” Zoe droned back.

Emily tried, several more times, to explain the dilemma they were in, but by then, Zoe was all but listening, and all but lucid at that.

-

Zoe’s tits were getting huge. She could feel the way they bobbed on her chest, the way people were really beginning to notice them. They were hot and tingly, leaving her sweaty, even though she ordinarily was on the cold side. But now she was hot all the time, sweating through her tops, and her nipples fucking ached like hell.

She had given up on bras. She couldn’t afford the cost to keep going up in sizes. Going about braless with her newer, fuller chest, she was silently astounded by how perky they were. Full and round, not sagging like tits usually started to once they hit D-cups.

And they were definitely beyond that.

When her nipples weren’t aching, they were leaving her shuddering, her loins twinging at the sensation of the nubs lightly rubbing on the fabric of her tops.

It was all new and strange, and she had half a mind to see a physician, but she had literally just seen one a few weeks ago, and those copays were pricey.

Her breasts bobbed when she walked around. They felt weirdly full, almost sort of tight somehow, like they were bloated, a pressure pressing against her tender flesh, pressing the mounds outwards, as they steadily grew larger.

That was the worst thing about in. The chronic sensation of hot pressure. She tried her best to ignore it, to will it away, but it was just getting worse. Ridiculously enough, one evening, she found herself clutching a bag of frozen peas to her flushed, sweaty jugs.

She felt oddly self-conscious. She was still able to pull without issue, but found herself oftentimes stiffening when her lovers’ attention shifted to the fun-bags, and she didn’t know how to react to the alternating pleasure and pain, but her hips twitched on their own.

That night, it was Ted.

“You gained weight,” he said with an uncertain smile. She could tell that he had been trying to figure out how to mention it since he laid wide eyes on her in the threshold, then the full hour that they had been sprawled on the couch together drinking cheap wine and watching adult cartoons.

“I hadn’t noticed,” Zoe deadpanned. “Problem?” she challenged.

“No problem,” Ted said with a crooked smile. “It’s just very—new. Something I’ll have to adjust to.”

His eyes trailed over her sprawled form with meticulous scrutiny. Zoe knew that her ass was fuller and rounder. What had been nearly nonexistent before had grown into two full, plump globes behind her, an ass that most other women had to pay for, round, perk, and sticking out. Her hips had congruently gotten wider and softer.

Ted sidled closer to her, spreading his thighs. Zoe climbed up, straddling him. His hands explored, running up and down her fuller body. She tried not to react when he cupped her breasts. “God, what have you been eating?” he muttered in combined amusement and amazement. His thumbs brushed up and down her nipples, causing them to distend, pushing out even more.

Zoe’s breathing shuddered. “Shut up, Ted,” she managed, as his hands dipped under her shirt, now cradling the full, hot mounds that overfilled his hands. She wrapped her legs around him and began to struggle with his belt.

-

An hour later, they were a panting, sweating, tangle of limbs. Zoe was plastered against Ted’s chest, his hands resting low on her hips.

“God Zoe, that was insane,” he said breathlessly.

Zoe opened her mouth to respond when she felt a sudden tension in her chest. She pulled away from Ted, wincing.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” said Zoe, raising her hand to the side of her right breast and stopping just short of touching it. “Sometimes they just—nnghhh,” she groaned, her nipples stinging, but also tingling as pressure surged, peaking in a sharp and relieving way.

Then there was moisture. Panting quietly, Zoe stared down at her breast, as she watched droplets swell and drip free. A warm, white fluid that was unmistakably milk.

Ted was staring, his jaw hanging. He didn’t seem to be breathing, and Zoe could relate to his state of astonishment.

“What…the fuck,” she hissed.

-

Emily still couldn’t manage to lactate. Though she didn’t like it, she was forced to give the baby formula. Emily’s doctor said that she was underweight, and clearly she wasn’t consuming enough calories.

In contrast, Emily thought she was eating more than enough. She even upped her intake, pigging out on fried foods, starches, lardy meats, sugary pastries, and every other fattening, unhealthy foods she typically considered anathema. Sometimes she ate so much she was disgusted with herself. Still, she couldn’t seem to put on a pound. If anything, she was still losing weight.

Weirdly, Zoe was gaining weight. Every time Emily saw Zoe grabbing her mail, picking up the paper, or getting into her car, the sullen woman seemed even more voluptuous, her hips fuller, ass plumper, and breasts getting even more swollen round. And Emily swore she could spot a patch of wetness on Zoe’s chest at least on one occasion. Not for the first time, Emily wondered if there was any truth to Zoe’s claim—Emily was going insane.

But if Emily wasn’t then something supernatural was definitely transpiring between them. The two were connected. Zoe was experiencing what Emily should have been, and vice versa.

To test this theory, Emily eyed a mostly-empty milk gallon in the fridge that afternoon. The milk was a day and a half past its expiration date, and Emily knew that Zoe was both lactose intolerant and extremely sensitive to expired foods.

Emily hesitated, but uncapped the bottle, and forced down the vaguely sour fluid. She wrinkled her nose once she was finished, thinking, I can’t believe I just did that.

But it was done. Emily waited. She frequently peeked out her kitchen window, but Zoe’s curtains were closed, and there was no activity detectable beyond them.

The baby woke from his nap and began to cry. Emily hurried over, lifting and rocking him. He began to quiet down. He really was well-behaved for a newborn. Then Emily had a thought, and put a cap on his head against the cool breeze. She slipped on some flip flops and walked out of her house, heading straight for Zoe’s door. She knocked with her free hand.

It was at least two-minutes before a greenish-looking Zoe answered. She looked even bigger than she had at a distance, ass and tits huge, stretching out the T-shirt and leggings she was wearing.

“What!?” Zoe snapped, and Emily realized that she had spent several seconds staring.

Emily pulled herself out of her reverie. “I wanted you to see the baby,” she said brightly. “His name is Johnson.”

Zoe gave her a queer look. “You named your baby Johnso—?” Zoe paused and grimaced, covering her mouth, her stomach gurgling audibly. But then she managed to go on, “I saw the thing, Pearson. Or were you too high to remember?”

Emily forced a smile. “Is this a bad time, Zoe?”

Don’t call me—” Zoe’s stomach gurgled again. “Eugh, well, it’s nice to see Johnson again. You gave the kid an intern name, Em. He’ll be forever destined for corporate mediocrity. Now will you get off my porch?”

“Are you okay? You don’t look too good...”

Zoe looked as though she intended to make another snarky remark, but her eyes widened, and she hurried off. Emily could hear the sounds of her puking coming from somewhere inside.

It really was true.

Emily found herself inching her way inside, the baby clutched to her chest. She found herself again gravitating towards Zoe’s broken half of the statuette. She knew she needed to properly join the pieces, though she wasn’t sure what the effects would be.

“There you go, snooping around again.”

Emily looked up to see that Zoe was back, now leaning against the living room doorframe on her very-round hip.

“I swear, it’s like you’re obsessed with me.”

“I drank bad milk, and you’re the one who’s sick,” Emily blurted.

There was a low whining noise. It took Emily a moment to realize it was coming from Zoe’s gut. Zoe groaned and rubbed her stomach with her hands.

“What the hell are you rambling about this time?” Zoe said. She hissed out and arched slightly.

Emily slowly came to realize the latest source of Zoe’s discomfort. Patches of moisture were blooming across the chest of the stretched T-shirt Zoe was wearing.

“You’re lactating,” Emily remarked. She could see Zoe’s nipples pushing out against the material, large and puffy.

Zoe seemed to remember her audience. She folded her arms across her chest, wincing as she did. “Get out.”

“Zoe, you have to listen to me!”

But Zoe’s patience had dissolved. She was now physically pushing Emily towards the door. “You’re not pregnant anymore,” she reasoned as she forced Zoe out.

“I still have a baby. Your baby!”

But soon Emily and Johnson were back on the front porch. An ill-looking Zoe slammed the door shut in their faces.

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Comments (2)
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User #2714932 - 18 Mar 20 04:15
I love it. :)
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Kompera - 18 Mar 20 08:52
:D
Manhunt, Part 7 2020-03-13T19:47:33+00:00

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Summary: After a one-night-stand, a charming young Spaceforce captain unknowingly impregnates an alien woman who is on the run from galactic authorities. Months later, said alien woman ambushes the young captain, and transfers her massive litter to his body, against his will, just before it is time for the children to be born. She leaves the litter with him for safekeeping. As a male, he cannot birth the litter. Instead he grows and grows as he and his crew struggle to track her so that he can transfer the offspring back over to her. Contains: Male: Pregnancy/belly expansion, breast expansion, multiple breasts, butt expansion, pregnancy transfer. Some female pregnancy.

Previous Chapter

-

It was another week before Tom found himself back in Suls’ dilapidated old residence.

“Fasscinating,” Suls remarked of the two pairs of breasts bulging out on Tom’s chest. “The spawn is changing your anatomy.”

“Evidently,” said Tom coolly. His belly was bulging out, stretching the shirt he was wearing. “They’re also growing again. Well, growing faster.”

“The human body iss alwayss adapting. Much like my own speciesss.”

Tom held himself from scoffing. He offered the disk, and Suls grabbed it with a roughness that conflicted with the delicacy of the thing. He made a pattern on the surface with his clawed fingers, causing the face to light up with symbols, and then he was tinkering around, Tom’s face twitching as his insides clenched or lurched.

“In addition to sstunting the increassing hormone levelsss,” said Suls as he tinkered. “I shall sstop the milk production—”

Tom grunted out as an ache shot through all four of his breasts. He felt them heat up and tighten, before they were visibly pushing out, each of his nipples dribbling milk.

“Fuck!” snapped Tom, snatching the disk, panting and hunching down, breasts wobbling. He tried to control himself from cuffing the doctor.

“Your body iss fighting it,” said Suls in fascinated glee. “I’ve never sseen the disk fail at such a bassse directive.”

“Be more fucking careful,” Tom spat once he had regained his breath. Reluctantly, he handed the disk back to Suls. “Just—finish up. Slow the growth of the—things—the babies. Forget about everything else.”

“I’ll do better,” said Suls, continuing to blithely dial upon the disk.

Tom continued to twitch and spasm, until he backed himself into the wall to brace himself, closing his eyes and breathing heavily as he felt shudders run through his insides.

He felt strain lifting from his back and hips, his spine relaxing against a tension that had grown there. There was a stabbing pain low in his stomach, but it went away almost instantly. Tom gasped.

“It took ssome time to work it out, but thisss new programming may help you give birth.”

Tom’s eyes snapped up. “That is not possible,” he said.

“It might not be,” said Suls, leering. “It is a sstrenuousss process, changing an unchanging anatomy. The disssk will take things ssslow, and it may not work, though if it does, you will be unlike any other human.” He said it with a sick pleasure as he offered the disk back.

“I think we’re past that,” said Tom sardonically, though he was a little unnerved by Suls’ remarks. He didn’t know how he felt about it, so he leaned on the wall a moment longer. He felt oddly drained compared to his last appointment with the reptilian doctor. Finally, he took the disk back and departed for his ship.

Suls had given him hope in his doomed state. It seemed stupid to start fighting the doctor’s directives now.

-

Tom suffered aches and twinges in the weeks that followed, and his body felt weird, like it was working at something. Though his belly growth had slowed down again, and he felt even stronger physically, he often succumbed to episodes of fatigue, and things were subtly changing.

His hips were widening slightly, and his ass was getting larger. He was often flushed and sweaty, and felt a weird tension inside him, not growth, but a sense of unrest. His breasts were leaking even more frequently than before, and he suffered from infrequent, painful twinges low in his gut.

Tom was struggling to get into his clothes one morning, stretching his uniform to accommodate his swollen body. There had been gaps of flesh poking out between the straining buttons of for at least a few weeks, but he had been testing the hold, pushing the limits, trying to see how slowly things truly were progressing.

He had gotten only as far as putting on some briefs and two pairs of strapless bras, his uniform hanging on his shoulders, when there was a frantic banging on the door to his quarters.

Tom stiffened. It was very atypical for someone to summon him in such a manner, when all communications were computerized aboard the ship. “Captain!” an officer cried outside the door.

An alert sounded, a harsh low beeping tone, red lights flashing in the highest level of warning.

Tom quickly went to the door. A breathless young officer clung onto the frame. His eyes momentarily bugged out at Tom’s lack of dress, but then he managed to focus. “Captain, the ship is rapidly approaching a meteor field. We think it was cloaked by the S’rilians. We cannot outmaneuver it sir, impact is expected in—”

Tom shoved past the young officer and ran to the command deck. He got there in only moments and joined his first engineer at the controls. “What do we have, Rick?”

“It is too large,” said Rictor, indicating a vast approaching meteor on the wide screen before them. “I cannot evade it.”

A computerize voice droned, “All nonessential ship personnel please proceed to the escape pods in your sector,” amongst the buzzing alarms and flashing lights as people hurried about in clear panic.

Tom tried to isolate his focus. “Get up.”

Ricktor didn’t hesitate to get out of his seat at the panel. Tom quickly replaced him, his belly pressing into the edge of the console as he leaned over it and began to furiously dial the controls. “Cut off engines Alpha H through zed.”

“But captain, that will leave us completely unstable.”

“Redirect power to all the ket engines, cut all the others off!” said Tom, his tone brooking no argument.

Ricktor hesitated, but nodded, and hurried off to an adjacent control panel. In Tom’s periphery, he could see that the communications officer had silent tears running down his gills. Dane was helping Pirtha, who had stumbled as the ship jolted. Tom belatedly grabbed his seatbelt, straining to wrap it around his tremendously swollen body. “Do it!” he snarled.

Ricktor nodded, and dragged a lever, gripping the console as the ship harshly veered upward almost entirely vertical, and people stumbled, collapsed, or gripped their stations and tried to buckle in. Tom felt himself being pinned to the back of his seat, his belly rocking uncomfortably with the pressure shooting against it, insides lurching, back arching back, and milk pouring into his two bras.

There was a harsh screeching, the ship trembling violently as it scraped on the space rock. People screamed. Someone flew back into one of the walls, and sparks of electricity flew through the air as they impacted with one of the battery routers.

“Gods,” Ricktor groaned, gripping the lever, struggling to pull it back to its original position, the ship congruently tipping back in a sensation that made Tom’s insides flip.

And then everything was even and balanced, and the meteor field was behind them. Tom could hear someone retching in a corner. “We did it,” he gasped out. There was a moment of calm, people gasping or sobbing, trying to gather their composure. Tom sunk down, heaving a deep sigh.

Two young officers hurried over to him. “Are you okay, Captain?” said a mousy girl, visibly shaking. “Are your—are the offspring alright?”

“Fine,” said Tom, though he honestly wasn’t sure. “Return to your post, officer.”

The girl hesitated, looking pale and frightful. But she managed a tiny smile. “Thank you captain.”

Tom nodded.

She and the other both saluted and hurried off. Tom took a moment to catch his breath. He belatedly took inventory of himself. He was still only wearing a pair of straining briefs, his ass bulging against the waistband, and two pairs of strapless bras his four breasts were bulging over, having started to outgrow the cups. Large wet patches had formed, and were rapidly saturating the material with milk.

His too-small uniform top had been shoved off his shoulders at some point during the fiasco. Now Tom felt how exposed he was, and he could sense as the relief in the room was slowly shifting to shock and polite embarrassment.

Tom’s golf ball-sized bellybutton gave an emphatic twitch. Alive then, Tom mused.

“Pirtha, get me a shirt,” said Tom, unwilling to move from the command deck, not when his heart was still racing, and he wasn’t sure if the ordeal was behind them. They might not have completely evaded the meteor field; there could still be more.

Pirtha snapped out of his reverie. “Sir!” he said, and hurried off.

Tom shifted his seat back slightly, so that his abdomen was no longer uncomfortably jammed against the console. The mound sat heavily in his lap, huge as ever, his skin beginning to writhe with excited movement. The spawn were all decidedly awake and alert in the aftermath of the high gravitational pressure they had been subjected to.

He should have been embarrassed, half naked, seeping, swollen as he was.

Instead he just sat there, expression stern, as he tried and failed to fold his arms, mounds and leakage and whatnot.

Pirtha returned, fidgety and mortified. He kept his gaze above Tom’s neck. “Captain, was there something you would like me to retrieve from your quarters?”

“I’m sure what you got is fine, Pirtha,” said Tom impatiently. He could see the officer was holding something behind his waist.

Pirtha hesitated, then finally brandished what looked like an extra-large sized T-shirt. Tom gave him an unimpressed look.

“This was the, erm, most accommodating shirt I could find for you sir.”

Tom shook his head. He took the shirt and dragged it on, but not really on. The shirt just managed to cover his two pairs of Ds, but not much else.

Tom was just glad no one could see how hard he was beneath the distraction of his tremendous body. He just tired not to move, tried not to go too far with it, as his belly shivered and pressed against his throbbing gender.

And then there was the pressure. He had only felt an inkling of it since he had left Zuul, but he could feel it exacerbating every day. It wasn’t growth, or at least not solely. It was deep, heavy on his hips, and lower. His pelvis, his ass, pressing, inching down, and sometimes he wondered if his belly was getting lower.

The shirt didn’t offer much in terms of coverage. In minutes, it was soaked and transparent, his large nipples protruding visibly against the white material, the fat flesh almost seeming to bulge more against the tight bra cups. It was a shame that Suls had not been able to do anything about that. It was irksome and unnecessary. And worse of all, it was exacerbating. Lately, the output just astonished him. In fact, since the last recalibration, a lot had changed with his body.

Sometimes he caught his officers staring at his chest, or deliberately trying not to, with clear effort. He knew that he was a profound oddity, and that in itself would draw attention. It wasn’t every day that one saw a male with large developed breasts, let alone two pairs that frequently lactated on top of everything else.

But Tom had also begun to notice a different kind of attention. Lingering glances. Rapt and heated stares.

It was strange that some would be aroused by him, heavy and deformed as he had become. Usually pregnancy repelled that sort of interest. The fact that he was a pregnant male brought the matter to a baffling level of confounding. But those who looked at him seemed almost as confused as he was. They would catch themselves, and distract themselves with other things, and Tom just hoped that things didn’t escalate.

Tom’s navel gave a strong wiggle, causing him to grimace. He rubbed the front of his belly with the heels of his hands, quietly cursing the creatures who insisted on being so fretful.

As he mused on it, he acknowledged that not only was he overdue, the spawn was past-due to be born. They were supposed to be more active. They were supposed to be free outside of him, not still compressed and contained in his tight confines.

After the ship had not encountered another meteor for two hours, Tom finally got up. His shirt was dripping by then, belly bulging out beneath it. As he stood, the pressure in his posterior seemed to shift slightly, and he hardly kept himself from clutching his ass, a small gasp escaping his throat. Tom managed to conceal it with a cough.

“Dane can take over from here.” Tom nodded to his most senior officer.

But before Tom could go, Dane pulled him aside. His belly bobbed slightly as he joined Dane in the corridor, and he resisted the urge to lay his hands on the underside, wrapping it tightly. He wasn’t in pain or discomfort, he just felt a little odd.

“Are you alright, Tom?” Dane wanted to know.

Tom gave Dane a quizzical look.

“You’ve been rubbing your stomach. Quite a lot.”

Tom paused to notice he was doing it right at that moment. He lowered his hands. “Back to work, commander,” he dismissed Dane brusquely, then he turned and headed back to his quarters.

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Comments (4)
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User #134276 - 17 Mar 20 13:13
Can’t wait for more!
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Kompera - 18 Mar 20 08:53
Glad you enjoyed :D
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User #13692080 - 16 Mar 20 02:38
thank u
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Kompera - 18 Mar 20 08:53
:D
Maid, Part 4 2020-03-11T16:04:01+00:00

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Summary: A woman is hexed by her employer and develops a small, growing udder. Contains: Female: udder development, breast expansion, possibly more.

Previous Chapter

-

Anna squeezed herself into the black and white outfit, then frowned down at the result.

As she had expected, the short skirt didn’t cover the udder, the bloated pink mound bulging visibly out at the bottom. Self-consciously, she smoothed the skirt down, to no effect.

The neckline was very low cut, revealing a generous amount of her new cleavage. Anna absently tried to tug it up, but it was a hapless endeavor, and if she managed to slide it a centimeter, that much more of her udder became visible under the skirts. She was helplessly exposed.

It must have purely been adrenaline that got her to walk out that door. Her heart was racing, hands sweaty, and her long, wavy hair hung around her face, curtaining her from eyes that would stare.

She burst into the dining hall before she thought too much about it, before she really contemplated what would meet her there, or how she would handle it.

The hall had been turned into a home casino. Several round game tables had been set up around the room, and a few dozen people were cluttered around them, holding cards, placing bets, passing chips around as they talked enthusiastically and sipped drinks. A buffet had been set up in a grand presentation of rare meats, expensive cheeses, foreign breads, and ripe, tropical produce.

The attendees were comprised of mostly men, with a few scattered women. They were dressed in fine garments that spoke of their wealth. All were immersed in their games until Anna proved a distraction, because steadily the room quieted down, as one by one, gazes shifted. Eyes widened. Jaws fell.

Then everyone was staring. At her. Compulsively, she smoothed down her skirt against the pink mound of her udder. She could spot Mr. Wallace seated at one of the tables, sipping his drink, as he watched her with an uncharacteristic contentedness that clashed with his usually-dour demeanor.

Anna stood frozen, as the small gathering continued to drink her in, some looking confused, doubtful, or just stunned. A few eyes narrowed with dark excitement.

Then Annette appeared. She herself looked at Anna with astonishment, but somehow managed to remain poised. “Come here,” she hissed, as she dragged Anna into the kitchens that adjoined dining the hall.

There, Anna’s hands were laden with a tray of beverages. She was hastily given drink orders to fill, and she tried her best to remember the table assignment for each glass.

She fumbled her way through the night, barely managing to balance drinks and appetizers as she served them out. She got orders numerous times, but the guests hardly seemed to notice of care, all too preoccupied with staring at the swaying pink mound pushing out beneath her skirt.

Anna was ordered to interact, even flirt a little to butter people up and get more drink orders. She tried, but everything she said came out stilted and acerbic. Her attempts at smiling only produced pained expressions. She was intensely uncomfortable, and so were some of the guests.

Others weren’t uncomfortable, but cheery, tipsy, or just intensely interested in her. She found herself maneuvering away from groping hands and fingers that tried to settle themselves on her waist, her hips, even her arse at one point. But all were too tentative to settle on her udder so far.

Just when Anna had thought that things couldn’t get any worse, she was taught to run a game, meaning she was forced to stay in one place, where her table to guests was free to ogle her. She was awkward and fumbled her way through distributing chips. She bowed her head as she arranged the game, but she could still feel the leers coming from every direction. People pointed and whispered of what Mr. Wallace had done to her. They debated on whether it was more appealing than disturbing. They licked their lips and became fixated.

Anna leaned down to deal cards to the seven players, Mr. Wallace amongst them. A whimper escaped her throat as her udder pressed against the edge of the table, but she sealed her lips shut, and pretended it had not occurred, even when a few of the players furrowed their eyebrows or tilted their heads at her.

Anna had been trying to keep her hips back and maneuver herself to avoid impact, but it was proving next to impossible when she was repetitively leaning down and trying to reach to the far side of the table to move game pieces and chips and deal cards.

Her udder was tender. It had been two hours already, and the mass was feeling hot, tight, and bloated. Its exposure to the cool air was a strange relief on her sensitive teats, but all of the bobbing and rocking after a long day of work was uncomfortable and distracting.

She tried to breathe through the building heat and soreness, the growing pressure that made her feel tight to bursting.

She was grateful when she proved such a disaster at running games that she was placed back onto serving duties.

By then, her nerves were completely frayed, and her arms were shaking. She successfully delivered two plates, before a stumble sent her platter clattering to the floor. Thankfully nothing broke, but everyone’s attention once again darted to her.

Arms quavering violently, Anna knelt down to collect the fallen dishes, and as she did, her udder pressed against the floor, making her go rigid, a hiss of discomfort escaping her lips. Containing the urge to cradle the udder with a supportive hand, she shifted slightly and hastily collected the plates. She then hauled herself up and hurried back to the kitchens, breaths erratic in her quiet panic.

Annette was yammering something at her, but Anna could hardly focus. She shuffled towards the toilets, needing just a moment to herself, when she felt a calloused pair of arms on her shoulders. Startled by the contact, she looked up.

A tall, middle-aged man was suddenly pressing her into the wall. He leaned down, chuckling softly, and she could smell the alcohol on his breath. He was clearly drunk. He leaned in close, his hot breath blowing against her neck. His hands reached down, not to her hips or her arse, but towards her udder, fingers extending, just managing to graze her pink flesh in a way that made her moan, body arching, hips pushing forward, pushing her mound against his tentative contact.

The man was roughly torn away from her. An irritated Mr. Wallace stood in his place. Anna was left gasping and scrambling to right herself, smoothing her skirt. She didn’t know what had come over her.

“Do not touch the help,” said Wallace sternly.

The older man raised his hands in playful remorse. “Of course, of course,” he placated.

Her udder throbbed, teats stinging slightly, then becoming tingly. Anna looked down just as she began to drip milk to the floor before her. She shuffled in mortification.

Wallace sighed. “What a mess,” he grumbled, as he turned away. “Come along then.”

Anna knew he was talking to her. Reluctant as she was to do so, she forced her feet to move, carrying her after Mr. Wallace, and back into the dining room, her four teats continuing to drip, creating a trail of splattered milk on the floor as she proceeded.

The room had been changed in her absence. The game tables had been cleared to be replaced with small dining ones, guests sitting with final drinks, cups of coffee, and decadent deserts. The lighting was low and the sconces glittered on the walls, adding a layer of elegance to the already sumptuous hall.

Wallace led Anna back to his table, but there was no seat for her. Of course, he wouldn’t intend for her to dine with him in the presence of company. She had no dishes to serve either, so she stood there awkwardly, feeling unbalanced, sort of teetering on her tired feet. She didn’t know what to do with her hands. They longed to support her throbbing udder, but she managed to fold them over her skirt, as she pressed her lips and doggedly pretended not to notice the mess she was making on the floor.

“I want only the best for my guests, only the freshest ingredients,” Wallace said as he sat, the already quiet room getting yet stiller, as even the whispers and murmurs tapered off, and people leaned to listen. Wallace nodded to Anna. “Serve them.”

Anna was slightly confused. She began to turn to head back to the kitchen to retrieve any remaining dishes, but Wallace halted her with a raise of his hand. “Serve them,” he commanded again.

She was so hot and weary. Sweat soaked her forehead, her chest, and her udder. The situation was desperately uncomfortable and she just wanted to be excused. She didn’t know what Wallace wanted from her. She had no dishes to serve.

She was so full. The pressure was growing, and she struggled to contain it, to keep the flow from exacerbating and becoming horrible squirts.

“Serve them,” Wallace demanded.

She finally understood.

Anna made her way over to the table, lifted a glass, and lowered it. She allowed the milk from her teat to dribble in. When that was taking too long, she even gave her teat a gentle tug, which roused a quiet grunt from her throat, but it was clearly heard in the otherwise silent room.

When she had managed to fill the glass, she lifted it back up and offered it to the guest she had gotten it from.

The elderly woman was astonished. In fact, most faces sustained their earlier looks of shock, but some faces broke with laughter, bemusement, and pleasure. Some guests gave her lascivious looks.

And Mr. Wallace appeared stern but satisfied. He gave a slight nod, and Anna knew she was finally free to go.

-

The next morning, Anna was so exhausted, she could hardly bring herself to crawl out of bed. But she did, as always.

She was surprised to see a large gift basket set upon her table. It had wine, fruit, and a huge assortment of cheeses. It looked so out of place in her room, Anna was certain it must have been placed there by accident.

Hesitantly, she lifted the card, her eyes flowing over the elegant handwriting.

“You left quite the impression on me at your employer’s gathering last night. Please accept this gift. –Dennis Whitman”

Anna tried to remember who he was, if she had served a Mr. Whitman. But there had been too many names and faces, and she just couldn’t organize them in her head. She kept thinking that the whole thing had been a dream, but then there was the gift basket, and her sore legs, and her udder which felt heavy and swollen and sore.

She absently glided her fingers over one of the apples, the fruit looking bright, fresh, and sweet. She had expected disgust, abuse, and ostracization. So to receive a token of appreciation was certainly surprising. She had never received a gift from anyone in her life, and it warmed her heart, making her forget, just for a moment, how disastrous her life had become.

Anna lifted a piece of cheese and took a nipple from it. It was creamy, tangy, decadent, and made her chest twinge in a strange way that she was sure she had only imagined a moment later. She continued to nibble on the cheese as she got ready for the day.

-

“What’s…this?” Anna managed at the end of the work day, after she had dragged herself back to her quarters, feeling on the brink of collapse. She had endured two days and a night of work with no sleep between them, and was due for some well-earned rest.

Before she could enter her room, however, she had encountered another maid pinning something to her door.

“Your bill,” said the other girl, failing to meet Anna’s eyes.

“What?” said Anna in confusion.

“Mr. Wallace says you won’t be eating here or using the facilities for free anymore.” With that, the other maid hurried off.

Anna was gobsmacked. She pulled the bill off the door and quickly scanned it with her eyes.

It wasn’t a massive amount of money, but it was still more than she could have afforded were she even getting paid anymore. It included things like food, hot water, and electricity. So now she was not only out of job and working for free, but she was accumulating debt as well.

She face reddened in frustration. She went angrily into her quarters but couldn’t bring herself to slam the door.

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Comments (5)
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User #3291297 - 8 May 20 15:27
"She face reddened in frustration." In the last paragraph. Really enjoying this series. Can't wait for the next one to unlock for me. :)
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User #2471044 - 12 Mar 20 02:23
I hopes Ann’s new romantic interest really speeds up her udder growth and other developments 😈. Here’s to hoping her udder doubles in size due to new live stock too hehe.
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Kompera - 14 Mar 20 16:44
:DD
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User #230963 - 11 Mar 20 20:58
" but it was clearly herd in the otherwise silent room." I choose to believe this was on purpose
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Kompera - 14 Mar 20 16:44
:DD That is a hilarious typo!
Apologies 2020-03-10T08:29:14+00:00

Apologies for delays. It has been a hectic week. Posts will resume shortly.

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Comments (2)
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User #26402554 - 17 Mar 20 17:29
With everything going on, I don’t blame you! I hope you’re staying safe :)
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Kompera - 18 Mar 20 08:53
Thanks so much :)
Egg Issues III 2020-03-01T00:47:44+00:00

Note: This is a story-prompt for Ryan Caday.

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Previous

-

Amy decidedly had not passed the final. On top of that, she was mortified. She spent several days locked in her dorm, not leaving except to retrieve food or use the bathroom. There she found herself giving birth almost continuously to increasingly large eggs. The ones she produced vaginally were the size of grapefruits by then, and it was a strain to pass them, her belly heaving and contracting uncomfortably, as she spread her legs, reddened, and bared down, while groaning.

The eggs she produced from her breasts had grown to the size of large grapes, and she was still too stunned to really try to comprehend it. It had brought her condition to the next level of weirdness, and as humiliated as she was by her freakish ailment, things were exacerbating. She had to seek medical attention.

She tried to hold out on birthing as long as she could, through the cab ride to the hospital, and the queue in the waiting room. By the time she had a private room and was able to see a doctor, she was flushed and sweating, loins and nipples throbbing as she strained to contain the things packed within.

“What seems to be the problem?” said a doctor cheerfully as he entered the room. He quickly gave her a once-over, frowning in concern. “How many are you carrying? Are you experiencing contractions, miss? Let me call the attending obstetrician.” He began to reach for the exam room phone.

“No,” Amy blurted out, gasping by then. “I’m not pregnant.”

The doctor gave her a dubious look, his eyebrows furrowing.

“For the past few weeks, I’ve been having theses…nghhhh…these egg things. I—erggghh—I can’t hold them in.”

The doctor looked increasingly concerned. “Miss, we really do need to get you in to see the obstetrician. While we’re doing that, I can arrange a mental health consul—”

But Amy couldn’t hold it in any longer. Her nipples bulged, and she wailed out as it started. Things were pushing, forcing their way free as her breast flesh clenched and contracted in that odd way it did. The things began to crown in a sensation that was on the cusp of being painful. Groaning, she hurriedly pulled down her shirt, not caring as she exposed herself to the doctor. Two eggs were crowned, protruding halfway free of her straining nipples. Amy moaned and gave one more clench, before the eggs broke free, dropping limply against her belly, then rolling onto the floor.

The doctor was gaping, his jaw hanging slack. He looked completely flabbergasted. He blinked hard several times as though to ensure he wasn’t seeing things. Amy groaned as is started up again, this time in her groin, abdomen shuddering. Her thighs twitched open.

The doctor stumbled back, and actually fell to the ground. He scrambled up again, looking sheepish and unnerved. “E-excuse me, I—I’m just going to consult with one of my colleagues.” And he hurried off.

Amy just squeezed her eyes shut and hummed, leaning back as contractions continued to roll through her shuddering gut. She opened her knees more and pushed with the urge, whimpering as the egg started to slowly, painfully stretch her. She gasped out and pushed harder. Doing this repetitively throughout the day, you’d think she’d have gotten used to it by now. But her medical intervention was just exacerbating her already stress-ridden body, and she swore, each egg she produced was just a tiny bit bigger than the last. She grunted as it bulged, almost halfway free, when the door to the exam room opened again to the original doctor now accompanied by two other physicians.

The original doctor was looking hard at his colleagues, scrutinizing their reactions, while the other two, a male and female, looked completely confused, then appalled, then almost fearful.

“What the…” the woman started, scrunching her face, blinking a few times, then beginning to stutter.

Her companion’s eyebrows had risen almost to his hairline.

“Oh godd…” Amy breathed, arching as her breasts began to contract again, two new eggs pushing to exit her nipples, and she wasn’t even finished with the vaginal birth. She whined and cupped one of her breasts. She swore the nipple-eggs were almost the size of golf balls by then. Her massive breasts rocked, releasing a few droplets of milk as her beach ball of a belly heaved beneath them.

The female doctor stammered, “W-w-we’ll be right back. J-just going to consult with one of our c-colleagues!” With that, she hurried off, as though certain she had gone man. The two male doctors hesitated a moment longer, then quickly scrambled out of the room as well, shoving each other in their haste.

“Ffuck,” as all Amy could articulate in response. She shifted and braced herself for a long night of birthing.

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Pep Rally VII 2020-02-29T08:26:43+00:00

Note: This is a story-prompt for varvi.

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Previous

-

Six months later, Sam was continually shocked by how much her life had changed from its original trajectory before she had come into her affliction.

Sam and Scott now lived together in a large house they had purchased with their combined savings. They had six children (three boys and three girls), and Sam spent her days juggling and nursing them as Scott went to work for his father’s company. He was always eager to help out when he came home in the evenings.

Sam struggled with the lactation. She had to pump her breasts almost constantly, and if she wasn’t, she was seeping into her shirts or squirting at the most inconvenient of times. Her breasts seemed to swell up each moment she was not pumping them of their milk surplus. They resembled four honeydews stacked on her chest, nipples bulging out, mounds bobbing. Sam was often overheated just from the warm milk straining to get out of her. And so she went about the day almost continually connected to the pump machine (when she wasn’t nursing).

She and Scott also had to deal with an increased sex drive. Often it was a struggle just to keep their hands off each other. They employed every form of protection imaginable, but it was still incredibly difficult trying not to fall pregnant again. They’d had some close calls already, and it almost seemed like a futile ambition.

Their vocabulary had devolved entirely to “mooo.” Other people could no longer understand them, but could, at least, understand their intention. It wasn’t as difficult as it had originally seemed. Sam was sometimes sort of happy to have the unique language just between them.

And Penny. Penny had been staying with them since graduation. The other girl was unable hide her changes from her parents for very long, not when they were bursting the forefront—literally. She had gotten huge and round just has rapidly as Sam had, and her parents had kicked her out, unable to come to terms with how their daughter had changed. Words like “freak,” had been used, or so Sam had heard, the night Penny had showed up on her doorstep tearful and inconsolable.

But it had been months, and Penny was doing a lot better. She had really taken to Sam and Scott’s children, and had slowly come to accept her condition. Over time she had progressively developed even more changes than Sam had. By then Penny was six months pregnant, though she looked much larger if they were comparing it to normal pregnancy standards. She had two cute cow ears protruding from her head, a cow nose, and even cow hind legs with hooves. Four large breasts wobbled on her chest, an udder bulged out in the groins of her skirts, and a swishing cow tail protruded out behind her.

Like Sam and Scott, her language was now limited to, “mooo,” though they all understood each other perfectly, English seeming almost archaic in the household.

Only recently, Penny had gotten a job at a unique strip club for people with her unique affliction. Sam would sometimes watch her get ready, sort of fascinated by the ritual as Penny went through the meticulous process of painting her nails, then her hooves bright colors that would shine in the shaded lighting of the club. She would ease her round, full, tender breasts into two different strapless push-up bras that were just as brightly colored as her hooves. Then she would squeeze her swollen body into absurdly skimpy dresses, yet it was all so gorgeous and refined at the same time. Sam marveled at Penny’s scarlet-colored lips, the glitter around her eyes, the way the stretched material of her short dress hugged her in all the right places, even to emphasize her plump backside and protruding belly button.

Sam was proud that Penny was getting back on her feet, and sort of living vicariously through the other girl, when Sam was at home, covered in squirming newborns, feeling rather matronly and dowdy.

But Sam was pleased with her life, and proud of her strange, new family. She wouldn’t have traded it for so-called normalcy.

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Starship III 2020-02-29T01:22:07+00:00

Note: This is a story-prompt for jorgamund.

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Previous

-

Space was nippy, but not cold per se. Her skin prickled, but didn’t hurt. She was dressed in nothing but a loin cloth and matching bandeau, her cleavage bulging slightly against the material. Dr. Ferguson said that she had been changed, that her skin was designed to withstand the harsh conditions of outer space. And so it did, not without the occasional itch or twinge of discomfort.

Her belly rocked and gurgled from the movement inside her. It trembled and shuddered as it struggled to accommodate the inhabitants. And the whole time, it felt strangely pressurized, like before, as though it was stretching, getting larger, hoping to accommodate more people. Her body was trying to make a larger vessel. It seemed that her changes were still ongoing.

She could fly now, though it felt more like she was floating rapidly, her body cruising along at vast speeds, her arms bent at a ninety degree angle, raised above her head so her fingers were touching, her knees bent slightly behind her.

But sometimes she changed positions, though she wasn’t sure way, her arms and legs spreading straight, as she turned to her side or back. She didn’t understand it, but she was sure she would in time. There were slight variations in her speed and movement that she would come to appreciate.

They stopped on a nearby planet to replenish supplies, but it turned out being a wasteland, just as the last planet had been. Everyone was nervous and distraught. They whined and fretted and Dr. Ferguson whispered with his assistant. Lauren recorded it all for later analysis. She was still twitching for the extensive disembarkment process, her navel throbbing, not in an unpleasant way, but it was always very sensitive and distracting, her body taking an extra minute to recover.

Ferguson came over, looking grim. He choked slightly on the thin, dry air. “This was the third planet in a row,” he said, gazing up at the bright white sky. “The whole galaxy seems to be close to sun death. It’s extraordinary. Many of the planets we have recorded as inhabited are now desolate.”

Lauren hummed in understanding, recording the data as her system worked to calculate the next nearest planet that would be unlikely to be suffering the drought they kept encountering. It didn’t need to be perfect, to match earth’s gravity or oxygen levels. If they could manage to contact the locals and request supplies to be sent, it would be enough.

“We’re running out of food,” Ferguson sighed.

At that moment, something in Lauren buzzed. She felt her breasts prickle, worse than in travel. More of an internal twinge of sensation, her nipples aching as they pressed harder against her bandeau top, making protruding outlines, the sensation causing her to shiver. Her cleavage bulged more heavily against the material as it stretched and tightened, straining to accommodate the increasing mass of her breasts. “Preparing emergency supply,” Lauren said.

Ferguson looked at her fondly. “We appreciate that Lauren. Though it might not be necessary. But thank you.” He patted what he could reach of the underside of her belly. “We will board.”

“Yes doctor.”

She tilted her body, grimacing as she strained and angled herself to the boarding position that would be easiest for the crew now that they didn’t have a step ladder.

She grunted and tried to stay still as one by one, they stretched and squeezed through her huge belly button, her gut lurching and tensing, as it accommodated each person.

-

A week later, they finally found a suitable planet, one on which they could even land.

The sky was a pale color she had never seen or imagined before. The ground was devoid of grass or any vegetation as far as she could see. The locals looked just like humans, but with a golden tinge to their skin that made them look almost shiny under the suns. They were also larger and taller—incredibly tall. Most towered over Lauren and it was extraordinary.

Some stared at her, looking at her outrageously voluptuous dimensions and the huge mass of her belly. Lauren cradled the churning mass and tried to focus on finding a safe place for her crew to disembark.

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Competitive XIV 2020-02-28T14:43:20+00:00

Note: This is a story-prompt for That-Other-Guy.

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Previous

-

Back on the plane, Edward was having an amazing flight.

“Just fuck me already,” Starla whined as she frantically unbuttoned her blouse in the cramped lavatory. Edward stared as Starla’s huge breasts were freed from her nursing bra, round and full and clearly engorged, nipples large, dark, and distended. The mounds heaved and wobbled with her restless panting. He couldn’t believe how perfect they were.

His gaze trailed down Starla’s enormous, heaving belly. She looked like she could drop at any moment. His eyes made their way to Starla’s fumbling hands as they hurriedly unlatched her skirt. It dropped to the floor around her ankles. She was left naked except for her stewardess blazer which hung off her shoulders, progressively sliding down.

Starla was beautifully disheveled, flushed, and breathless. It was at that moment, that Ed realized this wasn’t some sort of joke. This gorgeous pregnant woman wanted him, and he was standing there, gaping like an idiot, almost immobilized by shock. He snapped out of his reverie.

Edward’s hands were working before he really registered that he was shoving Starla back into the wall. He grabbed one of her thighs, wrapping it partly around him. Starla gave a sharp gasp as he instantly bottomed out against her belly. Edward gently cupped the side of the mound with one of his hands, feeling the rolls and kicks against the skin from within.

His other hand had slid up to grip her hip as he slammed back into her with a groan of unmitigated pleasure.

Starla whimpered and whined, her fat breasts bouncing on her belly, nipples now sprouting droplets of milk with every jerk of her body. “Fill me,” she begged.

With Starla talking like that, Edward grew impossibly hard. He felt himself swelling inside her, actually growing, Starla grunting and arching as he was pushed impossibly deep.

He gave several sharp thrusts, Starla writhing against him, as he thrusted and they rocked together, but it just wasn’t enough.

He pulled out and turned her around, Starla releasing a cry of surprise as he shoved her down so that she had to brace her hands on the back of the toilet. Edward cradled her plump, soft hips in his hands for a moment, just marveling at how lovely she was. But then he reached down to guide his aching cock to her already-wet opening. He shoved his way back in, Starla moaning and slumping slightly. He watched her legs quavering, and she gave a mumbled, near-indecipherably plea, “Fill me, Ed. F-fuck, I need you to—”

Edward exploded, his body shuddering through orgasm as he released more than he ever had in his life, so much so that he felt astonished as he continued to pour into her, indeed filling her, feeling her belly tense and heave under his hand.

His own massive belly writhed and rocked against Starla’s back, his hands shifting to his own mass, soothing it with the gentle pressure of his palms.

“Ohhh…” Starla groaned faintly. “That feels…ahhhh…” Her belly shuddered forcefully, jerking outward in growth as her baby was shoved upward to make room for a new sibling. The lavatory seemed to shrink around them.

“Shit,” said Edward.

“Yeah…” Starla managed, her plump fleshed sleeked with sweat. “I have to…” She eased herself down on the closed toilet seat, her weak legs all but collapsing beneath her. But beyond the flush and exhaustion, she had an extremely satisfied look on her face. She appraised Edward fondly, sort of smirking. “Well,” she said, clearly pleased with his performance.

“Yeah,” said Edward, both abashed and giddy. He awkwardly attempted to tuck himself back into his sweatpants.

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March Story Poll 2020-02-27T03:39:22+00:00

I still have some things to post for February, but please choose the stories you would like for me toupdate in March. Thetop three choices will haveguaranteedupdates. The rest will be chosen by me. Poll will remain open for 48 hours.

Note: In event of a tie, the story that has been waiting the longer time for an update will be the one which is chosen.

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Comments (4)
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User #2471044 - 27 Feb 20 04:37
I’m going to be so upset if the maid gets skipped again 😤
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User #13692080 - 4 Mar 20 02:07
manhunt plzzzzz
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User #16761178 - 1 Mar 20 02:18
"It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood..." ;)
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Kompera - 1 Mar 20 08:55
:DD
Choose My Next New Story 2020-02-26T16:52:59+00:00

Over the next 24-hours, please follow this link, and select the story idea you would be most interested in for my next new multi-chaptered story. The winning summary will be my next new story post.

Final poll.

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Comments (7)
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User #12638911 - 26 Feb 20 22:30
A or P!!
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Kompera - 28 Feb 20 03:08
Wow, that was a close one! Props of Rich Carlin on the awesome Insect Queen idea!
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User #3793314 - 26 Feb 20 17:00
E for the Broodmother
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User #4803830 - 27 Feb 20 07:06
Go E!
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User #27538928 - 2 Mar 20 21:12
Really hoped a was going to happen but e sounds amazing!
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User #145048 - 26 Feb 20 22:49
E all the way
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User #2662640 - 26 Feb 20 17:03
Come on P! Let's get it!
Farm Boy, Part 7 2020-02-26T16:43:39+00:00

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Summary: A high school senior, Max noticed that his older brother has been dipping into the chemical on his parents' farm, and has been gaining a lot of weight. A bit disgusted, a bit curious, Fred tries the chemical hormones himself, and experiences the best high of his life. He quickly introduces the chemical to his two best friends, and the three progressively get addicted, all while experiencing incidental changes, such as butt growth, breast development, belly expansion, in addition to other, stranger, things. Contains: Male: pregnancy, breast expansion, multiple breasts, breast-belly, butt expansion, weight gain, and more. Also, issues of drug addiction.

Previous Chapter

-

Max tried to bandage his lower tits down, but they were just so tender. And they were getting unquestionably large. It hardly helped. So he kept his arms folded against them most of the time, inconveniently enough, heaving up the upper pair, but it was worth it if is helped to hide the lower pair just a little better.

Most of the time, Max was flushed and fidgeting. He felt stimulated and uncomfortable beneath the bandages and his layers of clothes. He was constantly sweaty, and dazed, hardly paying attention to anything aside from the conflicting sensations of pain and pleasure caused by the compression. The bandages always felt as though they were tighter by the end of the school day. It was almost unbearable to be squeezed and compacted in such a way.

He was a guy with breasts. Two pairs. He had actually transformed from a slim young man to a guy with huge, bobbing tits, and the rest of the school didn’t really know how to react to it, other than to point, giggle, or gawk at him continuously. Some teachers and students thought it was a foul joke. Others just seemed utterly confused and concerned. Max was sure that the varying reactions to his appearance would have bothered him were he not continuously riding at least a low grade high. As such, he could barely pay attention or care. Not until things got physical.

Max was roughly shoved in the hallway one day after school. He was so absent to the world around him that he hardly registered that someone had not simply bumped into him, but was in fact shoving him into the nearby bathroom.

“Hey, get off me.” Max tried to tear away from the grip on his arm, but instead found himself being pushed hard against the bathroom wall by someone taller, broader, and stronger than he was. Max looked up and vaguely recognized one of the hockey players in his year. The other guy was fairly new to the school, and Max didn’t think they had any classes together.

His name was Roger, and it was odd for Max to see him in this context. Roger usually spent his time bullying other people. Fat kids, and kids with bad skin, or ugly faces. Poor kids and kids with disabilities, or lisps, or the ones who ceaselessly talked about how cool their parents were. The weirdos, goths, and freaks with no friends. Roger bullied the stand-outs, not the ones who stood indifferently on the sidelines. Not kids like Max.

Oh, Max registered, belatedly. He had become one of those kids.

Max gasped as Roger roughly grabbed his upper tits.

“What the fuck do you have stuffed under here? They can’t actually be…” Roger trailed off.

Max was shuddering, his legs closed to buckling beneath him. His breasts were outrageously sensitive to his own touch, but he hadn’t anticipated that the touch of another person, even rough and sloppy, with no amorous intension, would completely send his body into overdrive. His dick was rapidly hardening, heat pooling in his stomach as his tits ached and tightened, nipples distending significantly, almost painfully. He could feel the areolas puffing out, could feel his milk surging the bloated tissue. He had no hope of containing the dam. “Oh god,” Max breathed as milk poured into his shirt.

“’The fuck?” said Roger, pulling back against the flow of warm wetness. But he furrowed his eyebrows and returned to his rough investigation, intruding and surely violating, as he groped at Max’s chest, feeling the masses, the bloated tenderness, the round heft of them. Impatiently, Roger began to jerk up Max’s shirt. “No way,” he said. “You can’t actually have real tits under there.”

“Stop!” Max tried to pull away, but his legs were jello, and he just ended up tripping on his own feet and slumping down the wall. Roger followed him, crouching down, staring at what he had uncovered. Max’s shirt had been drawn up under his chin, and his upper breasts were on full display, bulging heavily from the E-cup bra straining to contain them.

“Holy shit,” Roger breathed, and to Max’s horror, Roger continued to explore. He saw bulging bandages beneath Max’s upper mounds. “Don’t tell my you did this to yourself?” said Roger, trailing his fingers on the bandages. “Cosmetic surgery?” He looked at Max as though he was completely insane.

“No, I…” Max wasn’t sure why he would disagree. It was probably a better explanation than what had actually happened, that he had mysteriously sprouted them while on snorting cow feed.

He imagined a scenario where he was so depraved and perverted that he would invest thousands of dollars of savings into getting freakishly huge breasts implanted onto his decidedly male physique, for all to see and marvel.

Roger’s fingers continued to trail over the bandages. What he thought was just swollen flesh and a surgery wound was another set of breasts. Even through the layers, it was insanely arousing. The lower mounds were so new, and sensitive, practically starved for attention. Just as Roger’s hand finally pulled away, just as he was backing down, like he wasn’t cruel enough to unravel a potentially unhealed wound, it happened. Max’s lowered breasts tightened, and pushed, and surged, as though to follow Roger’s hand. Max cried out as the bandages pulled and squeezed him, face reddening and ribs compressing. “Fuuhhhh…ngghhhhh…” He groaned, twitching, until there was a tearing noise, and the bandages rapidly came apart.

He gasped for breath, face red, body shuddering. It was just too much, too stimulating, the sensation of his lower breasts pushing and throbbing while squished beneath the upper pair. By instinct, Max reached down and quickly lifted the upper pair to alleviate the debilitating pressure. Twin spurts of milk splattered forward, causing Roger’s jaw to drop. But Roger’s attention was quickly captured by the masses beneath them, his eyes becoming impossibly wide. A choking noise escaped his throat.

Max couldn’t see his lower breasts, but he knew they were bigger, and growing. He could fucking feel it, and it was all he could do not to reach down and squeeze them. He could feel them throbbing and fattening, beginning to press together in a new forming line of cleavage. The pressure was impossible to tolerate, and he was sweating buckets just trying to stand it. “I t-think…oh god…th-they’re gonna…”

They were engorged. They were fucking engorged. His milk was coming in, and he needed release.

Max shivered. He tried to slide his hands down, but it was so awkward and uncomfortable, but his lower nipples were stinging, flesh aching and tingling. He shifted slightly, and abruptly came in his pants. He moaned and tried to hold himself upright. He didn’t think Roger had noticed, he was still busily gawking at Max’s lower pair of breasts.

“What…the fuck…have you done to yourself?” Roger said slowly. “I mean, fucking, how? You’re—‘the fuck.” He seemed to be at a loss for words outside of obscenities.

Max opened his mouth, intending to excuse himself, but all that came out was a whimper. His dick was hard again, though he wasn’t sure how that was even possible. Every move he made left his hips twitching and thighs quavering. He needed to get away but wasn’t even sure how.

He yelped when he suddenly felt warm hands on his lower breasts.

Roger’s hands.

He began to rub and squeeze the flesh, as if to see if it was real. Max heard himself release an undignified squeak. It was the most mortifying situation he had ever been in. If his friends could see him now, he would never live it down.

“Please,” he gasped out, though he wasn’t sure what he was requesting. For Roger to leave him alone and go away? For Roger to…to not, leave him alone? Max shuddered as Roger’s fingers zeroed in on his nipples.

“T-they need to…” Max gulped. “T-think they’re gonna…”

They squirted. He could feel it—then see it. Thin, sweet little streams of pale milk, not the dark, thick fluid that the upper pair produced. But milk all the same. It was his first time lactating from them. Max sighed in sweet relief, leaning more heavily on the wall. He thought it would only be a small amount, but if anything the output seemed to be increasing, his flesh tingly and warm. Roger’s fingers continued to roll and squeeze the nubs. He felt himself arching against the touch.

“They’re really full,” Max said dumbly, he wasn’t sure why, it just sort of came out of his mouth.

Roger gave him another speculative, and confused sort of look. “You’re a fucking mutant, Sturge.”

“Nnghhhh…yeah…” Max agreed.

And then Roger did the unthinkable. The leaned down to Max’s lower left tit and took a long suck.

“Oh fuck, oh f-f-fuck.”

Max came again.

-

Max was a flustered, disheveled mess, by the time he made it home, arms folded against his torso yet doing little to hide his bulging breasts.

They were swollen and sore, throbbing and growing, pushing mutinously against his arms.

They bobbed uncomfortably as Max finally made it to his room. He sunk down the wall, slumping on the carpeted floor, and immediately pulled up his shirt, gasping for breath as the four sweaty mounds were exposed to the cool air.

He didn’t actually want to touch them. They were so sensitive, he was on the brink of tears. But Max found himself gently, gingerly cradling the side of one, avoiding his nipples, just laying his hand against the hot flesh. Something had changed. He felt it blatantly. His upper breasts were now sitting atop the lower pair, no longer hiding them with their mass. Heart racing, Max climbed up with a groan. He hesitated, then walked to his full-length mirror.

Beneath the fat pair of E-cups on his chest, proudly sat a pair of plump, round Ds. They had gone up two cup-sizes just that afternoon, and were rapidly catching up to the upper pair in girth. His lower-breasts were unquestionably large now, and could no longer be hidden.

It was uncomfortable, all four sitting there, stacked and jiggling. Max went to his dresser and dug around. He pulled out one of the bras he had purchased online, and grimaced as he latched it around him, easing his upper breasts into the wide cups. They still bulged against them, but it would have to do.

Max looked again, this time unearthing a strapless bra. It was a smaller sizer, and was slightly stretched from when he had outgrown it when using it to support the upper pair. This time, Max put the bra on his lower pair of breasts, hissing in discomfort as he adjusted to the confining material. But it was an improvement, and it offered the support he needed at that moment. Breathing thinly, Max threw another glance to the mirror, at the odd arrangement his four breasts in their two bras made on his chest. He then got on his bed and carefully lowered himself across the mattress. His chest heaved and milk poured from all four breasts, sometimes stopping, but continuing again.

Max reached up and plucked his lower right breast out of the cup. He lightly squeezed his nipple, his face heating, and a thin stream of milk squirting into the air. It was already thickening, getting whiter, and making a mess. But the pressure was intensely painful and arousing, and the milk was coming so fast, he knew he would rapidly go up several more cup sizes if he didn’t—well—milk himself.

So Max plucked out his lower left breast, and repeated the process, squeezing and milking every few minutes or so, releasing the building warmth the bulk. He was exhausted, but stayed up between dozing, repeating the process again and again. It was hours before he could tell that the milk in his lower breasts was no longer developing faster than it was naturally oozing from his nipples. With that vague assurance, Max finally allowed himself to fall asleep. He didn’t get up when he heard his friends ringing the doorbell, or later, when his parents came home from work. He was drained.

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Comments (6)
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User #264461 - 27 Feb 20 20:10
im loving this story, and i hope it continues
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Kompera - 28 Feb 20 03:06
Thanks :D
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User #11418356 - 22 Apr 20 14:58
Awesome stuff, I take in a tale of pure irony Max's milk becomes an addictive substance? :)
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Kompera - 27 Apr 20 11:09
Haha, I think I've done that in a couple other stories.
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User #16073823 - 4 Apr 20 17:05
The bully's name is Roger, eh? I approve!
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Kompera - 7 Apr 20 07:18
:DD
Pet Shop, Part 18 - Female Version 2020-02-21T16:07:09+00:00

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Summary: An animal breeder is cursed to start personally giving birth to supply her pet shop with animals. Contains: Female: belly expansion, breast expansion, lactation, multiple breasts.

Previous Chapter

-

Despite Maggie’s insistence that she wanted to be left alone to rest, Tom went to the house to visit her a week following the birth.

Maggie answered the door with clear reluctance, as it was five minutes after Tom had started (repetitively) ringing the doorbell. Maggie indeed looked weary, as well as annoyed. She was somewhat disheveled in a baggy long-sleeved T-shirt and sweatpants.

As Tom walked in, Maggie folded her arms against herself, but she winced, and lowered her arms instead. Tom could see wet spots forming on Maggie’s shirt.

“How are you feeling?” said Tom, as he idly looked around, pretending not to notice Maggie’s changing form. Her breasts were even bigger than before, all four of them probably E-cups by then, sticking out in her shirt. Maggie’s nipples looked swollen as well, bulging out rather unnaturally. They had to be sensitive. Really sensitive. Tom met Maggie’s eyes and gave her a questioning look.

“Fine,” said Maggie curtly. Anguishing as usual. She began to fold her arms again, but thought better, and stopped herself.

Maggie’s ass was larger as well. Plump and round. Her belly was still somewhat swollen, like she was six months pregnant rather than having just given birth. Tom knew it was softer, not by sight, but as he idly laid a comforting hand on Maggie’s waist.

Maggie stiffened, her face twitching.

“What’s wrong?” said Tom immediately. “Are you in pain?”

“I’m fine,” said Maggie, too quickly; dismissively. “I know I haven’t been in. I’ve been working from home. The last two births weren’t exactly…what we were anticipating. So I’ve just been crunching some numbers.”

It was an irksome turn in the conversation, but Tom couldn’t help getting sucked in. “Let me see.”

Maggie got her laptop, and the two went over the inventory and projections, while discussing the vacancies in the traditional pet supply and what to do about it, if anything. It was all about what would be the most cost-effective, while evading long-term effects at the shop, particularly in terms of their customer base.

“Most pet-buyers are one-time customers anyway,” Tom was saying. “We should focus more on pet food and supplies until after we see the next couple of litters.”

Maggie’s lip pulled downwards, but she didn’t comment.

She was snacking a lot, at present stuffing handfuls of buttered popcorn into her mouth without really noticing. Which made sense. Sturges had said that the lactation expended a lot of calories, which in turn made her hungry.

Tom noticed that it had been a couple of hours that Maggie hadn’t pumped. Her four breasts looked undeniably swollen, and she fidgeted somewhat. Maggie was sweaty, and her face was flushed, and Tom wondered if Maggie had been putting it off for his benefit.

Tom wanted to say something, to suggest that Maggie did pump, but he instead found himself reaching out, stroking the side of one of the mounds, causing Maggie to shiver, her flush deepening.

“You know you’re supposed to pump them as much as you can stand,” Tom murmured. He couldn’t believe how round they were, how perfect they felt even through the shirt. They were full, perk, and absolutely perfect. God, they had gotten huge. Tom had no clue how Maggie would hide them. He wasn’t sure it was possible anymore.

Maggie arched against his hand, eyes closing as she took in a shaky breath. “The more I pump them, the more they swell,” she complained breathily. Tom felt himself harden.

Tom palmed Maggie’s nipple gently. He noticed that his hand was getting wet, with warm milk as it seeped through Maggie’s shirt. Tom felt himself salivating. He cupped the plump flesh, his thumb rubbing against Maggie’s protruding nipple. Maggie groaned quietly. “This is about more than just your body,” Tom mentioned.

Maggie noticeably tensed. Then shifted, eyes opening as a scowl spread across her face. She got up and walked away, Tom watching her. Maggie was all breasts, ass, and belly. Her hips had gotten progressively wider as well.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Tom called, as Maggie walked into the kitchen. “Amelia said there’s barely enough supply to feed all of the squids in time.”

“Yeah,” Maggie called back. There was a glass clinking. Tom hoped she wasn’t making herself an alcoholic drink.

“You’ve been doing great,” said Tom, leaning back on the couch to stare at the ceiling. “Those numbers you showed me looked good, Maggie. You’ll feel better when you’re back at work.”

“Hm,” was the only thing Maggie said. She had returned to the living room. Despite Tom’s efforts at encouragement, Maggie didn’t look any less frustrated than before. To Maggie’s credit, she was trying.

Tom got up and closed their distance, putting Maggie’s glass of juice aside for the moment. Maggie turned as though to leave the room again, but Tom wrapped his arms around her. He felt Maggie shudder in his hold.

“Seriously,” said Tom. “Are you okay?”

Maggie hesitated. “My body just feels really sensitive.”

Tom looked at where he had placed his hands. Both were resting on Maggie’s rounded abdomen. “Here?” He experimentally rubbed, causing Maggie to stiffen again. “Let me see.”

Maggie resisted, “I’m just going to rest.”

“What’s going on, Maggie?” said Tom, with growing concern. “Let me see your stomach.”

Maggie remained still and silent for a moment, before she pulled herself out of Tom’s arms. She stood stiffly for a beat, then, with clear reluctance, she reached down, and pulled her shirt upwards until the hem rested above her stomach and under her breasts.

Tom appraised the bloated flesh. It took him a moment to spot the—spots. Well the pink bumps, that Tom’s mind belatedly registered as nipples, out-of-place though they were. Maggie had developed additional nipples. Four…no six of them. They made two parallel lines down her stomach, with a slight puffiness to the flesh beneath them, like a dog following pregnancy. It was all very…animalistic. Maggie had nipples trailing her torso. Tom’s mouth fell ajar.

Tom found himself momentarily stunned, his mind going blank, but Maggie tended to have that effect on people. He lifted his gaze, and could see the disgust and uncertainty in Maggie’s eyes.

So Tom stroked one of the nubs, Maggie’s abdominals shuddering under his touch. “It’s alright,” he said.

Maggie looked at Tom as though he was insane, but then became resigned.

“We’ll keep an eye on it,” said Tom.

“What difference does that make?” Maggie responded.

Tom shrugged, and the two returned to the couch, where Tom touched the nubs experimentally, trying to see how sensitive they were (extremely). Maggie flopped back and just let him, until Tom couldn’t help leaning down and kissing them one by one. He sucked and nipped them, unable to help imagining the skin swelling up like the other four, becoming large, seeping breasts.

Maggie grunted and twitched beneath him. She came just from the nipple stimulation.

Tom thought he could get used to Maggie’s six new nipples.

The two decided to keep the matter quiet for the time being.

-

Maggie was pumping her breasts almost constantly.

The more she pumped, the more milk she produced. The more milk she produced, the bigger her breasts grew. It was a vicious, doomed cycle, in which she came out the loser (aside from the piles of income the squids were going to bring in).

Apparently Dean and Amelia were overwhelmed, currently trying to transition the creatures to other foods. Admittedly, Maggie had heard this offhandedly, and wanted to know as little as possible. She decided that she wanted to be hands off with the animals once they were born, particularly when they disturbed her to the degree that the squids did.

Maggie remotely monitored sales, permits, and the temp workers hired at the shop. She researched local and national laws on the ownership of rare and endangered species’. Not that Simon or anyone else was aware of whether the squid species was endangered, undiscovered, or simply brand new in existence. Maggie was somehow doubtful that she could have produced a new species, but stranger things had happened, as evidenced by the state of her body. It was unnerving though. Simon claimed that Maggie had turned the field of marine biology completely off-kilter with the recent births. That decades of progress had occurred in the span of weeks.

But Maggie could hardly relate to Simon’s excitement over squids. Simon could even claim discovering them if he wanted that type of publicity. Maggie’s pet shop business just had to be careful about the sale, and preferably avoid any association with the squids altogether.

Maggie felt some apprehension about what would follow. She could already feel the pressure of something subtly growing within her, her skin warming and belly firming progressively.

Over the past few weeks, the nipples along her torso hadn’t grown breasts beneath them. They were protruding and pink, and had some fleshiness beneath them, but they weren’t additional breasts. Maggie supposed that warranted some relief.

She tried to become productive, now that she had a reprieve from being unbalanced, huge, and heavy. But her form didn’t serve her practically in the real world. Just going to the shop entailed a process of sneaking there, by either going in the early hours of the morning when the streets and sidewalks were vacant, or hunching over and draping herself in such large, amorphous attire, people stared at her anyway.

Maggie tried to distract herself with paperwork. When she did go into the shop, she holed up in her office, hiding from customers, hiding her form, which was rapidly filling out even more. At times she felt isolated by her condition, stuck doing numbers and paperwork. Tom, Amelia, and even Dean did come by to see her, but it wasn’t the same as taking a walk in the park, or going out for coffee. She was being pushed out, at least in her physical presence. She had become a certifiable freak.

Sturges did a full workup. He didn’t think Maggie was pregnant with more aquatic creatures. Amelia seemed to think she could impact what Maggie would produce, often bringing cats and dogs into the office, which just made Maggie frown and rub her stomach uneasily.

Everyone was keen and excited, and catering to her constantly. She felt her belly starting to get bigger, and felt each colleague’s eye watching the growth. They were pleased by every inch she put on, pleased when she was breathless, or flustered, or paused and held her gut, face scrunching as her insides twisted unpleasantly. They wanted her bigger and fuller. Simon wanted another aquatic birth, but Dean and Amelia just wanted a large, healthy litter to boost their bonuses.

Maggie was just going over the accounts, when her office door creaked open, Dean holding it with his hip. His hands were occupied by two plates, one with sandwiches, another, with pastries and cake slices.

“So I checked out the new café on the corner,” said Dean casually, which was odd, because Maggie could not recall having a casual conversation with Dean in her life. Dean was cold and sarcastic. He didn’t check out cute little cafés or buy pastries. “I thought you would like to try some. Would love your opinion.”

Maggie’s eye twitched as Dean set the plates down on her desk, on top of her paperwork. She wondered if Tom or Simon had put him up to it, or if Dean was just taking the initiative.

Dean walked around the room, opening the curtains, adjusting a window. “Is it too warm?”

“It’s fine,” said Maggie, scribbling her signature to renew an contract. Her pen ran out of ink. She began to fidget with it.

“Oh, let me grab a new one. Don’t get up,” said Dean, heading back to the door, nearly crashing into Amelia who was carrying a huge fruit smoothie and a bag of quinoa chips.

“Hey Maggie, how are you feeling? Is it chilly in here? I can grab you blanket…” Amelia trailed off at Maggie’s glare.

The two employees fumbled. “We’ll just…erm…” Amelia rambled as Dean pushed her back towards the door.

“Wait,” said Maggie. She hesitated. Reddened. “Leave the chips.”

Smiling, Amelia came to her desk and did just that. Maggie snagged the smoothie as well.

When the door closed behind them, Magggie tried to focus again on the paperwork, but that was between handfuls of chips or bites of Danish, and now her tits were tingly, nipples achy, and she knew if she put off milking any longer it was going to be a mess.

She groaned and held her head. By the treatment she got, she might as well have been giving birth to a bag of money.

She sighed and reached into a drawer, shoving her papers aside and pulling out her breast pumps.

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Comments (3)
user avatar
User #230963 - 23 Feb 20 00:03
Fantastic to get such a breast and milk focused chapter. Interested to see how her new growths go. Hopefully they keep being treated so well!
user avatar
User #11418356 - 18 Apr 20 18:36
I love how I don't have any idea where this is going to go and I can't wait for the next chapter. :D One odd thing though; this didn't show up on my Patreon nor did I get an email notification for it, but I did for the 2 recent gender swap chapters. Notifications are on so I'm a bit confused as to why?
user avatar
Kompera - 19 Apr 20 10:20
I honestly have no idea. No one else has notified me of problems. Patreon has a lot of arbitrary technical issues and bugs. Your best bet may be to shoot a message to support.
Pet Shop, Part 18 - Male Version 2020-02-21T16:05:26+00:00

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Summary: An animal breeder is cursed to start personally giving birth to supply his pet shop with animals. Contains: Male: belly expansion, breast expansion, lactation, multiple breasts.

Previous Chapter

-

Despite Jack’s insistence that he wanted to be left alone to rest, Tom went to the house to visit him a week following the birth.

Jack answered the door with clear reluctance, as it was five minutes after Tom had started (repetitively) ringing the doorbell. Jack indeed looked weary, as well as annoyed. He was somewhat disheveled in a baggy long-sleeved T-shirt and sweatpants.

As Tom walked in, Jack folded his arms against himself, but he winced, and lowered his arms instead. Tom could see wet spots forming on Jack’s shirt.

“How are you feeling?” said Tom, as he idly looked around, pretending not to notice Jack’s changing form. His breasts were even bigger than before, all four of them probably E-cups by then, sticking out in his shirt. Jack’s nipples looked swollen as well, bulging out rather unnaturally. They had to be sensitive. Really sensitive. Tom met Jack’s eyes and gave him a questioning look.

“Fine,” said Jack curtly. Anguishing as usual. He began to fold his arms again, but thought better, and stopped himself.

Jack’s ass was larger as well. Plump and round. It usually went down after the birth, but not this time. His belly was still somewhat swollen, like he was six months pregnant rather than having just given birth. Tom knew it was softer, not by sight, but as he idly laid a comforting hand on Jack’s waist.

Jack stiffened, his face twitching.

“What’s wrong?” said Tom immediately. “Are you in pain?”

“I’m fine,” said Jack, too quickly; dismissively. “I know I haven’t been in. I’ve been working from home. The last two births weren’t exactly…what we were anticipating. So I’ve just been crunching some numbers.”

It was an irksome turn in the conversation, but Tom couldn’t help getting sucked in. “Let me see.”

Jack got his laptop, and the two went over the inventory and projections, while discussing the vacancies in the traditional pet supply and what to do about it, if anything. It was all about what would be the most cost-effective, while evading long-term effects at the shop, particularly in terms of their customer base.

“Most pet-buyers are one-time customers anyway,” Tom was saying. “We should focus more on pet food and supplies until after we see the next couple of litters.”

Jack’s lip pulled downwards, but he didn’t comment.

He was snacking a lot, at present stuffing handfuls of buttered popcorn into his mouth without really noticing. Which made sense. Sturges had said that the lactation expended a lot of calories, which in turn made him hungry.

Tom noticed that it had been a couple of hours that Jack hadn’t pumped. His four breasts looked undeniably swollen, and he fidgeted somewhat. Jack was sweaty, and his face was flushed, and Tom wondered if Jack had been putting it off for his benefit.

Tom wanted to say something, to suggest that Jack did pump, but he instead found himself reaching out, stroking the side of one of the mounds, causing Jack to shiver, his flush deepening.

“You know you’re supposed to pump them as much as you can stand,” Tom murmured. He couldn’t believe how round they were, how perfect they felt even through the shirt. They were full, perk, and absolutely perfect. God, they had gotten huge. Tom had no clue how Jack would hide them. He wasn’t sure it was possible anymore.

Jack arched against his hand, eyes closing as he took in a shaky breath. “The more I pump them, the more they swell,” he complained breathily. Tom felt himself harden.

Tom palmed Jack’s nipple gently. He noticed that his hand was getting wet, with warm milk as it seeped through Jack’s shirt. Tom felt himself salivating. He cupped the plump flesh, his thumb rubbing against Jack’s protruding nipple. Jack groaned quietly. “This is about more than just your body,” Tom mentioned.

Jack noticeably tensed. Then shifted, eyes opening as a scowl spread across his face. He got up and walked away, Tom watching him. Jack was all breasts, ass, and belly. It looked absurd on the still narrow-framed man.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Tom called, as Jack walked into the kitchen. “Mindy said there’s barely enough supply to feed all of the squids in time.”

“Yeah,” Jack called back. There was a glass clinking. Tom hoped he wasn’t making himself an alcoholic drink.

“You’ve been doing great,” said Tom, leaning back on the couch to stare at the ceiling. “Those numbers you showed me looked good, Jack. You’ll feel better when you’re back at work.”

“Hm,” was the only thing Jack said. He had returned to the living room. Despite Tom’s efforts at encouragement, Jack didn’t look any less frustrated than before. To Jack’s credit, he was trying.

Tom got up and closed their distance, putting Jack’s glass of juice aside for the moment. Jack turned as though to leave the room again, but Tom wrapped his arms around him. He felt Jack shudder in his hold.

“Seriously,” said Tom. “Are you okay?”

Jack hesitated. “My body just feels really sensitive.”

Tom looked at where he had placed his hands. Both were resting on Jack’s rounded abdomen. “Here?” He experimentally rubbed, causing Jack to stiffen again. “Let me see.”

Jack resisted, “I’m just going to rest.”

“What’s going on, Jack?” said Tom, with growing concern. “Let me see your stomach.”

Jack remained still and silent for a moment, before he pulled himself out of Tom’s arms. He stood stiffly for a beat, then, with clear reluctance, he reached down, and pulled his shirt upwards until the hem rested above his stomach and under his breasts.

Tom appraised the bloated flesh. It took him a moment to spot the—spots. Well the pink bumps, that Tom’s mind belatedly registered as nipples, out-of-place though they were. Jack had developed additional nipples. Four…no six of them. They made two parallel lines down his stomach, with a slight puffiness to the flesh beneath them, like a dog following pregnancy. It was all very…animalistic. Jack had nipples trailing his torso. Tom’s mouth fell ajar.

Tom found himself momentarily stunned, his mind going blank, but Jack tended to have that effect on people. He lifted his gaze, and could see the disgust and uncertainty in Jack’s eyes.

So Tom stroked one of the nubs, Jack’s abdominals shuddering under his touch. “It’s alright,” he said.

Jack looked at Tom as though he was insane, but then became resigned.

“We’ll keep an eye on it,” said Tom.

“What difference does that make?” Jack responded.

Tom shrugged, and the two returned to the couch, where Tom touched the nubs experimentally, trying to see how sensitive they were (extremely). Jack flopped back and just let him, until Tom couldn’t help leaning down and kissing them one by one. He sucked and nipped them, unable to help imagining the skin swelling up like the other four, becoming large, seeping breasts.

Jack grunted and twitched beneath him. He came just from the nipple stimulation.

Tom thought he could get used to Jack’s six new nipples.

The two decided to keep the matter quiet for the time being.

-

Jack was pumping his breasts almost constantly.

The more he pumped, the more milk he produced. The more milk he produced, the bigger his breasts grew. It was a vicious, doomed cycle, in which he came out the loser (aside from the piles of income the squids were going to bring in).

Apparently Dean and Mindy were overwhelmed, currently trying to transition the creatures to other foods. Admittedly, Jack had heard this offhandedly, and wanted to know as little as possible. He decided that he wanted to be hands off with the animals once they were born, particularly when they disturbed him to the degree that the squids did.

Jack remotely monitored sales, permits, and the temp workers hired at the shop. He researched local and national laws on the ownership of rare and endangered species’. Not that Simon or anyone else was aware of whether the squid species was endangered, undiscovered, or simply brand new in existence. Jack was somehow doubtful that he could have produced a new species, but stranger things had happened, as evidenced by the state of his body. It was unnerving though. Simon claimed that Jack had turned the field of marine biology completely off-kilter with the recent births. That decades of progress had occurred in the span of weeks.

But Jack could hardly relate to Simon’s excitement over squids. Simon could even claim discovering them if he wanted that type of publicity. Jack’s pet shop business just had to be careful about the sale, and preferably avoid any association with the squids altogether.

Jack felt some apprehension about what would follow. He could already feel the pressure of something subtly growing within him, his skin warming and belly firming progressively.

Over the past few weeks, the nipples along his torso hadn’t grown breasts beneath them. They were protruding and pink, and had some fleshiness beneath them, but they weren’t additional breasts. Jack supposed that warranted some relief.

He tried to become productive, now that he had a reprieve from being unbalanced, huge, and heavy. But his form didn’t serve him practically in the real world. Just going to the shop entailed a process of sneaking there, by either going in the early hours of the morning when the streets and sidewalks were vacant, or hunching over and draping himself in such large, amorphous attire, people stared at him anyway.

Jack tried to distract himself with paperwork. When he did go into the shop, he holed up in his office, hiding from customers, hiding his form, which was rapidly filling out even more. At times he felt isolated by his condition, stuck doing numbers and paperwork. Tom, Mindy, and even Dean did come by to see him, but it wasn’t the same as taking a walk in the park, or going out for coffee. He was being pushed out, at least in his physical presence. He had become a certifiable freak.

Sturges did a full workup. He didn’t think Jack was pregnant with more aquatic creatures. Mindy seemed to think she could impact what he would produce, often bringing cats and dogs into the office, which just made Jack frown and rub his stomach uneasily.

Everyone was keen and excited, and catering to him constantly. He felt his belly starting to get bigger, and felt each colleague’s eye watching the growth. They were pleased by every inch he put on, pleased when he was breathless, or flustered, or paused and held his gut, face scrunching as his insides twisted unpleasantly. They wanted him bigger and fuller. Simon wanted another aquatic birth, but Dean and Mindy just wanted a large, healthy litter to boost their bonuses.

Jack was just going over the accounts, when his office door creaked open, Dean holding it with his hip. His hands were occupied by two plates, one with sandwiches, another, with pastries and cake slices.

“So I checked out the new café on the corner,” said Dean casually, which was odd, because Jack could not recall having a casual conversation with Dean in his life. Dean was cold and sarcastic. He didn’t check out cute little cafés or buy pastries. “I thought you would like to try some. Would love your opinion.”

Jack’s eye twitched as Dean set the plates down on his desk, on top of his paperwork. He wondered if Tom or Simon had put him up to it, or if Dean was just taking the initiative.

Dean walked around the room, opening the curtains, adjusting a window. “Is it too warm?”

“It’s fine,” said Jack, scribbling his signature to renew an contract. His pen ran out of ink. He began to fidget with it.

“Oh, let me grab a new one. Don’t get up,” said Dean, heading back to the door, nearly crashing into Mindy who was carrying a huge fruit smoothie and a bag of quinoa chips.

“Hey Jack, how are you feeling? Is it chilly in here? I can grab you blanket…” Mindy trailed off at his glare.

The two employees fumbled. “We’ll just…erm…” Mindy rambled as Dean pushed her back towards the door.

“Wait,” said Jack. He hesitated. Reddened. “Leave the chips.”

Smiling, Mindy came to his desk and did just that. Jack snagged the smoothie as well.

When the door closed behind them, he tried to focus again on the paperwork, but that was between handfuls of chips or bites of Danish, and now his tits were tingly, nipples achy, and he knew if he put off milking any longer it was going to be a mess.

He groaned and held his head. By the treatment he got, he might as well have been giving birth to a bag of money.

He sighed and reached into a drawer, shoving his papers aside and pulling out his breast pumps.

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Campus, Part 4 - Male Version 2020-02-18T17:56:19+00:00

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Note: This is a male version of Campus.

Summary: When Simon leaves home for the first time and starts college, he immediately notices that his campus has a shockingly high fertility rate, among other things. Contains: Male & Female: belly expansion, breast expansion, butt expansion, pregnancy, weight gain, birth.

Previous Chapter

-

Simon mentally tunneled in. All he was aware of was stuffing food into his mouth as rapidly as he could. His cheeks bulged out, his tongue coated in a variety of conflicting flavors as his throat ached with his full, impatient gulps, and his belly tightened and grew incredibly full, so full that he became nauseous, and yet he continued with the strange certainty that he wouldn’t get sick, he would only get fuller.

When he came out of his reverie, his hands were sticky with syrups, his jaw sore and fatigued. Simon felt heavy and drowsy and groaned quietly, as he shifted, then ultimately opted against moving.

The table was a mess. Empty food pans littered it. There was the odd spill, but little of the food had been wasted. In fact, there wasn’t a bite left.

Feeling weirdly numb, Simon slowly shifted his gaze to Paul, who stood on the side of the room, arms folded over his belly, a stunned expression on his own face. But looking up to notice Simon’s attention, Paul quickly wiped his expression clean then plastered his face with a smile. “You must have been famished.”

Simon just groaned and closed his eyes. He felt disgusting. His hands slid down to his heated orb, where it was perched heavily, overfilling his lap. It felt hot, and as though it was pulsing.

“Well, we better head off to class,” said Paul awkwardly.

Simon restrained another groan. “I think I—” Simon was cut off as a large belch tore through his throat. His cheeks reddened and Paul seemed vaguely amused. “Think I’m—just going to stay in today,” Simon forced out, before covering his mouth against another loud belch.

“Are you sure about that, Simon? You don’t want to fall behind.”

Ignoring him, Simon planted his palms against the sticky, greasy, table top, and made a feeble attempt to heave himself up, but he just felt so heavy and lethargic. He slumped back and sighed, allowing his eyes to drift closed right there in the uncomfortable kitchen chair.

Paul was still talking, but Simon hardly heard a word of it. Instead it served as background noise. Soon there wasn’t any noise at all, just warmth, and pressure, and darkness.

-

Simon awoke in time for his last class of the day. He was horrified to find that he was hungry again even after the massive morning binge, and tried to limit himself to just two burritos at the campus food court (he ended up stuffing down five as he waddled his way to the Math building).

His clothing was embarrassingly formfitting, showing off every curve of his fat ass and plump breasts, and the obscene bulge of his belly. The melons on his chest were easily DD-cups by then, and had gotten too plump too quickly, so uncomfortably round, fattening faster than he could handle. His waistband strained to contain the bubble of his ass. His belly made him look as though he was ready to pop out triplets, if not more.

Back tense and forehead sweating, Simon waddled his way into class.

He eased himself down behind one of the extra-large desks. He was only one of several students who looked pregnant and huge. Everyone gave him airy smiles, as though there was nothing unusual about his strange development. Simon sat there trying his best to pay attention, but mostly squirming, sweating, and breathing heavily as he adjusted to the ever-shifting weight squashed between his torso and his lap. He couldn’t believe how huge he was getting. He felt like he was about to pop.

His asshole felt uncomfortably pressurized. It made him want to draw back his knees and try birthing right there even though he wasn’t sure that was even possible. He just felt so full. He felt like babies could just start popping right out of him.

There was a gasp, then a whimper. Simon’s eyes darted to one of the student’s in the front row. A red-haired guy was flushed and sweaty. He was not as large as Simon was, his belly looking at-term with one baby. Heaving himself up, the guy held the underside of his belly and waddled off as quickly as he could. Simon could see that the back of his pants were wet. The professor gave a knowing smile then simply continued on with the lesson.

Simon grimaced. It seemed that people were popping around him every day. He felt weirdly jealous, and yet equal parts apprehensive. How as he actually going to have it? And worse, how was he going to handle having an actual baby? Simon looked down at the heavy girth of his abdomen. He supposed he would figure it out one way or another.

After class, someone lightly bumped into Simon in the hall, but in his unbalanced state, he nearly toppled over. A pair of soft hands shot out to grip his shoulders, keeping him upright. Simon looked down to face a frowning young woman.

“Sorry,” the girl stated.

“It’s okay,” said Simon breathlessly. “I think I was daydreaming…or anguishing,” he added, under his breath.

The girl blinked at him. “You’re…not happy?”

Simon furrowed his brows. “What are you talking about?” He rubbed the side of his gut, and almost winced at the way his shirt was now stretching against him, the fabric between the buttons beginning to pull apart to reveal skin. With the chronic pressure and throbbing that occupied the mound, he hardly noticed the rapid growth anymore. He was practically inflating.

The girl seemed to read something in his face, because she marveled at him. “You’re not like the others,” she said, adding to Simon’s confusion. “Not yet.”

Simon slowly came to understand what the girl was saying, and the feeling was mutual. This girl was not like all the other smiling, airy students on campus. She wasn’t ridiculously cheerful, swollen, voluptuous, or simply complicit in the insanity going on around them. “You’re not either,” said Simon blankly. “Shit—this is—what the hell’s going on here? Sometimes I think I’ve gone insane.” He absently clutched the top of his lurching gut. His cleavage was heaving now, beginning to bulge against his neckline. Simon had been sweltering hot and had left the top few buttons undone, unable to bear the idea of closing them.

The girl’s eyes darted around in evident paranoia. She was small and mousy and looked as though she would run off at any moment. “Don’t give birth on campus,” she said, her gaze shooting to his huge stomach. “It will change everything. No matter what, don’t give birth here. You have to get out.” Giving him one more fearful look, the girl hurried off.

“Wait!” Simon called, turning to pursue her. He waddled as far as the corner she disappeared behind, but she was nowhere in sight, and he felt so flustered he thought he might collapse. Simon leaned his back heavily on the wall, his hands sliding to either side of his belly, where he idly noticed that it was beginning to outgrow his flanks. He pointed his face towards the ceiling, as he huffed, and breathed, until his lungs stopped burning. And then he verbalized the one sentiment that summed up his life at that moment: “Fuck.”

-

“911, what is your emergency?”

“I’m trapped on my college campus,” said Simon in one breath.

“Are you reporting a fire? A building collapse?”

“No, it’s actually—I just can’t get out. I don’t know the way, and no one will help me. It’s all really confusing, and somehow I’m pregnant but I’m a guy” Listening to his own rambling, he knew he sounded insane.

There was a long pause on the other line. “Sir, this line is for emergencies only. Prank calling this number can be considered a federal crime.”

“This isn’t a prank,” said Simon quickly. “I’m huge and desperate, and I’m about to—”

But there was a beeping noise, then a soft elevator tune, indicating that the call had been placed on hold. When the line picked up again, an automated voice said, “Thank you for calling the state department of Mental Health. If this is a mental health emergency, please dial 1. To speak to a counselor, please dial—”

Simon hung up the phone and slumped back in his chair. “Ohhh…” he groaned, as something gently jabbed against the inside of his gut. He pulled up his shirt and marveled at his flesh as it pressed out, in a visible lump. The baby was…kicking. He gulped.

Over the next few days, he went through the motions, dragging himself to classes and back to his dorm, while trying to reign in his voracious appetite, yet it continued to surge, peaking with explosive binges at least once a day. Paul continued to enable his terrible eating routine, and Simon was helpless to stop him.

Simon was getting truly massive. He looked overdue with triplets by then—no, bigger. He looked like he was with quads or quints, or trying to smuggle a beach ball under his ever-tightening shirts. His breasts sat huge and heavy atop the mound, bulging against his straining necklines. He was practically exploding from his clothes.

His ass was huge and round, hips plump and wide. His body quivered and strained with every arduous step he took. When he sat down in class, he squirmed from the continuous, uncomfortable pressure perched heavily on his loins. He wanted to give birth and yet he was scared to. The mousy girl was the only sane person he had ever met on campus, and she had explicitly told him not to give birth here, no matter what.

He could barely fit into anything anymore, even the clothes he saw at the campus shop which seemed specifically catered to the huge students littering the college.

In fact, when Simon really thought about it, he had come to be bigger than most of the people he saw. Other students now gave him longer looks than the fleeting, pleased glances he was accustomed to. With his massive belly and the melon-sized jugs bobbing on his chest, he had somehow become unusual in a college full of hugely swollen people. He was humungous, bursting. He was their perspective of large.

Simon sat in History one afternoon wearing a sleeveless jersey and basketball shorts, needing the cool air to touch as much of his skin as possible. The stretchy material hugged every curve of his body, pulling taut at his various mounds, and soaked with so much sweat, it outlined his belly button and nipples in explicit detail. He felt naked, but could hardly linger on that in his combined physical and emotional discomfort.

Their professor was deep in labor, but still very intent on teaching. The professor had explained the situation in the beginning of the class, and was now breathing in huffs, his face flushed, as he periodically gripped at his very-low belly. “And what you must understand about Europe in the 1960s is that—mmghhhh…” Professor Sneed paused to groan and arch his swollen body into one of the many contortions that was supposed to ease him. He was wearing slacks and a tightly-stretched button-down, and Simon could see a ripple of movement under his skin. “Hoooo…hahhhhh…I might sit down for a moment,” the professor said, as he loosened his belt and made his way to his desk, wincing periodically.

Simon watched on, feeling practically squashed by his own massive mound. Professor Sneed was positively huge, and yet he was still very evidently smaller than Simon, which just made Simon all the more uneasy. Simon’s belly button was the size of a golfball, his huge belly overwhelming his feeble body. He shifted slightly, trying to alleviate some of the pressure on his groin, but only making it worse. His groan was hidden by Sneed’s cry of pain.

“Mmmghhh…ohhhhh…” Sneed moaned. Aside from his belly and cantaloupe-sized breasts, the professor was lean. Simon could tell that he had been in good shape before the pregnancy. In Sneed’s sweaty top, it was clear that he wasn’t wearing anything to support his chest. His breasts were perfect, fat tear-shapes, but his nipples were very large, almost unnatural. They were thick and long, pushing out at least an inch, and sort of resembling teats in an strange way. They wiggled as his breasts bobbed with Sneed’s movements.

There was visible writhing against the skin of his belly where the baby squirmed under his shirt. Sneed was now leaned back in his desk chair, body from the hips down hidden beneath it, but Simon could tell he was spread wide. “And by the time the wall came down in 1989—nrrghhh—ahhhhh!” Professor Sneed arched. “One m-moment class!”

Simon felt his dick hardening, his nipples distended. He wanted it. He wanted his turn to give birth. He felt so small when he looked at the girth of his abdomen. It was taking over him. He could hardly handle the prospect of heaving himself up with the tremendous weight of it anymore. His ass trembled. A tightness blossomed, causing Simon to gasp. But it wasn’t a contraction. Simon squeezed his eyes shut and gripped his desk as he steeled himself for another growth spurt.

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Clause II, Part 3 - Female Version 2020-02-18T09:40:02+00:00

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Note: This is a female version of Clause II.

Additionally, this story has no prequel (ie, there is no 'Clause I.') The series starts with this story. Apologies for any confusion.

Summary: To meet the requirements of a will and inherit her family fortune, a train-wreck of a woman is forced to become a pregnant BBW with the help of a quirky doctor. Contains: Female: pregnancy, belly expansion, breast expansion, butt expansion, weight gain.

Previous Chapter

-

“Clause 2,” Maroon read. “Diana must meet the following dimensions prior to the inheritance of my fortune:

“1. She must develop breasts of at least an HHH-cup size.

“2. She must at least double her original body weight…”

Diana listened to Maroon in stunned silence. Double her body weight? That would bring her up to 240 pounds! As of that moment, she was only 138. Diana unconsciously held her belly.

“Diana must meet on my estate with the will executor at the end of her first and second trimester to have her progress checked,” Maroon continued. “During these meetings, Diana must wear no more than fifteen vertical inches of apparel.”

Diana’s jaw dropped.

“Diana must meet on my estate with the will executor one final time, not less than two weeks following the completion of the third trimester. Diana must achieve all of these things prior to the natural birth of her child or children.” Maroon cleared his throat as he finished. “If you would like a copy of Clause 2, I have several.” Maroon offered the paper to Diana.

Diana took the paper and opened her mouth, but could not figure out what to say. Instead she stormed off, forgetting her condition. She didn’t notice her jacket had been left hanging open, her belly and breasts bulging in the shirt she was wearing, leaving her condition on full display to her gawking cousins. She was still having difficulty processing the new information. She was snapped out of her reverie when someone grabbed her arm.

“So you’re really doing it,” said her third-cousin Denise, staring at Diana’s belly. “You are absolutely shameless.”

Diana looked around the room. Most of her cousins’ expressions were shocked. Rich was busily snapping photos on his camera phone, and only Penny gave her a supportive expression.

Pulling away from Denise, Diana hurried outside.

Once in her car, she sat down and held her belly, just breathing for a while. Trying her best to remain calm, she turned on the engine and sped off.

Diana spent the next two weeks at home, pouring over Clause 2. Occasionally, she reached for her phone, intending to call one of her lawyers, but she always ended up stopping herself, anticipating their amusement at her increasingly ridiculous dilemma.

HHH breasts? She hadn’t even known breasts could get that size!

And she didn’t know how she was supposed to get to 240 pounds either. She had gained a good deal as it was. With normal pregnancies, people were eased into it with slow, gradual growth, whereas she had begun to bloat up within the first month. It was still quite unnerving.

Diana tried to eat a bit more than usual, but felt unmotivated, and hopeless. Her 1.7 billion dollar inheritance seemed further away than ever.

Only a few days before, she had been bent on eliminating four of the five fetuses within her, but now she wasn’t sure. If she was to even attempt to fulfill the stipulations of Clause 2, she would need to put on as much baby weight as possible.

Although Diana hadn’t wanted to see Dr. Reed again following their last encounter, she arrived at her 12-week appointment, a bit late, just to be passive aggressive. Reed seemed relieved that she had shown up. Rather than saying anything to her, Diana simply handed Reed Clause 2, before getting herself up on the exam table, with some difficulty. She sat there on the edge, staring down at herself despairingly.

Her breasts were swollen and round. C-cups, and pretty blatant in anything she wore by then. She was stunned by how fast they were growing. But that was a…good thing…she supposed. They were soft and round, not sagging in the least. And they were incredibly sensitive. The lightest rub of her nipples left her weak in the knees. The pink nubs were sticking out visibly in the t-shirt she was wearing.

Her belly was growing fast as well. She already looked as though she was 7 months along, though she was only three. Diana spaced out a little as she continued to muse on this. Five babies. She was six people in one. That was like – a whole family. No, it was a fucking circus.

“Oh my…” Dr. Reed murmured as she finished reading the document. “These are quite the…stipulations.” She raised her eyes to Diana, staring fondly upon her belly for a moment, before frowning back down at the document. “It’s not impossible. Tricky, but doable. We just have to find ways to plumpen you and the babies up. Diana – come, let’s take your weight.”

“I did it this morning. 142,” said Diana, but she reluctantly slid herself off the table. She allowed herself to be ushered to the scale, and was irritated that she could not see the numbers beyond her belly.

“143,” said Reed, matter-of-factly. “Oh, my lovelies.” She fondly patted Diana’s belly, Diana’s her immense irritation. Diana stepped back, putting space between them.

Simply smiling to herself, Reed lifted a chart and scribbled something down. Every so often, she would glance at Diana, then scribble some more. “Still, 143 isn’t too impressive. That’s 5 pounds over the past two weeks.”

5 pounds? Diana thought. She hadn’t really registered it till Reed said it aloud. 5 pounds seemed like a good deal of weight to her, especially for just two weeks.

“Over the next six months, you need to put on at least another 97 pounds. That’s a little more than 16 pounds a month.”

Diana was stunned. She couldn’t imagine herself putting on that kind of weight.

“We had a slow start,” Reed said, almost to herself. “It couldn’t be helped, we didn’t know. But I’m confident we can get on the right track.”

None of this seemed like the right track to Diana.

“…And there’s no doubt it would make for a difficult labor,” Reed continued.

“What?” Diana looked at her. She didn’t notice she was sweating by then. “I didn’t see anything about having to…to go through-”

Reed handed the Clause over. “The last line. It’s subtle, but trust me. These things tend to be very specific.”

Diana read it.

Diana must achieve all of these things prior to the natural birth of her child or children.

She had totally missed it. Reed seemed to be very attentive to detail. “I have to do it…naturally?” Diana’s heart pounded.

“It will all work out, Diana. Trust me. I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Reed reached down and held Diana’s hand, looking at her supportively, as though hoping she would consent to becoming the anomaly her aunt’s will demanded.

It’s all temporary, Diana reminded herself. She’d be able to reverse it…eventually. And so, she took a deep breath, and gave Dr. Reed the slightest of nods.

“Very good. Now to put you on a high-calorie diet. We’ll start with at least 4,000 a day. Next, I’ll need you to start regularly massaging your…”

Diana tuned Reed out as she continued to go over the ins and outs of bloating her up. She didn’t want to think about it, and yet she couldn’t escape it. What choice did she have?

That night, she went home, and emptied the contents of her refrigerator into her stomach. She ate until she was painfully stuffed, and then she forced down a few more bites.

Diana barely made it back to her bedroom, where she collapsed to bed, and didn’t awake until the next afternoon.

That day, Diana called Maroon and arranged a meeting. She then made herself a large breakfast of 12 eggs, a package of bacon, and three bagels. By the time she finished, she was flushed, sweaty, exhausted, and her abdomen felt quite pressurized. Forcing herself to get up, she showered, then measured out fifteen vertical inches of clothing. She tried her best to conceal herself in it.

Diana observed herself in her full-length mirror.

The outfit consisted of a pair of shorts and a tube top. The shorts had become little more than hot-pants against her bubble-bottom, and the tube top could either reveal a mountain of bloated cleavage, concealing a decent amount of her belly, or conceal her breasts adequately, leaving her belly to stick completely out in the open. Of her two options, Diana opted for the former. Though immodest, it seemed the less ridiculous of the two, and hence, the less embarrassing.

As Diana drove towards her aunt’s estate, she was frustrated to realize that in everything that had been happening to her lately, she had neglected to keep an eye on her car maintenance. The gas gauge revealed that the tank to be empty, and it was already making sputtering noises.

Diana pulled over at the nearest gas station, further annoyed to realize it was self-service. She climbed out of the car against the burden of her gained weight and five growing babies.

As Diana filled her tank, a yellow jeep pulled over at the pump behind hers. The door opened, and a young man stepped out. Diana kept her head down, trying to avoid unwanted attention. She allowed her hair to hang down in her face.

“Hey ma,” the stranger called.

Her face reddening, Diana ignored the stranger. To her frustration, he began to approach.

The tube top Diana was wearing barely seemed to contain her breasts, which were bulging over it, outrageously plump. Despite her efforts to conceal it, the lower half of her belly still stuck out beneath, from her navel downwards. Her thighs had grown as well, pressing together, looking full and shapely. And several inches of her ass-crack were visible above the tight shorts plastered to her bulging bottom. She must have looked like a complete whore. Diana impatiently continued to pump gas into her car.

“Why isn’t your baby-daddy doing that for you?” said the stranger, getting uncomfortably close.

Diana stiffened. She was too mortified to respond. Instead, she kept her head down.

“Let me help you with that,” said the stranger.

“No, I’m—fine,” said Diana.

“Don’t be shy,” said the stranger, his eyes trailing up and down Diana’s burgeoning body. “I’m into pregnant chicks.”

“I’m not fucking interested—” Diana gasped as the stranger suddenly grabbed her breast. It was so arousing, she could do little more than to lean against her car in an effort to keep herself upright.

But after a second, she regained her composure, and managed to tear herself away. “What the fuck!” said spat, shoving the man violently. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

The stranger snorted but he did step back, hands raised in a sign of surrender. His eyes shifted from Diana’s chest, to her belly, her widening hips, and her plump ass. “Don’t act like you didn’t dress for a little attention,” he said.

“Fuck you,” she retorted, her whole body tense, which only made her top ride up more.

Still leering, the stranger returned to his car. Diana’s heart was racing, and it took her a moment to catch her breath. Once she had, she pushed herself off her car, climbed inside, and sped off. The gas pump broke, still inside her tank, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to get away.

When Diana got to her great aunt’s estate and walked inside, she was bombarded with gasps and shocked exclamations. As usual, most of her cousins were present. They had become spectators to her transformation.

“I was hoping we could have met in private,” Diana told Maroon in irritation. “But as usual, everyone’s here.”

“Oh, but I had to invite your cousins,” Maroon responded apologetically. “As per Clause 3.”

“There’s a third clause?” said Diana. She lightly shook her head. “Nevermind. Whatever. As per my aunt’s stipulations, I’m here to show you my progress. Okay?” She motioned to her flushed body practically bursting from her fifteen inches of apparel.

Maroon seemed a bit embarrassed. “Yes, of course.”

“Then I’m leaving.” Diana turned, and did just that.

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User #230963 - 18 Feb 20 19:33
"Bubble-bottom" is a good word. Looking forward to those 15 inches failing to cover her.
Neighbors, Part 3 2020-02-17T14:33:16+00:00

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Summary: Two neighbors are cursed. Whenever Zoe has unprotected sex, Emily becomes pregnant with the resultant offspring, and goes through a 1-month pregnancy, after which she gives birth. Both women are also now immune to sexually transmitted disease. Zoe finds it liberating that she can have sex without personal consequence, and cares little about the effects it has on her neighbor. Emily, meanwhile, is overwhelmed by the continuous pregnancies, and the increasing number of babies she is now apparently responsible for. However Emily has yet to explore the impact the curse has on Zoe. Contains: Female: pregnancy, belly expansion, breast expansion, butt expansion, weight gain, stuffing, and possibly more.

Previous Chapter

-

Ever since she had been given a clean bill of health by her gynecologist, Zoe suspected she was getting even more careless about using protection. She brought a new guy home almost nightly, and oftentimes both were too tipsy to remember a condom. Zoe was beginning to think she was sterile, but then, her doctor had claimed she was in “perfect reproductive health.” What difference did it make anyway? She was lucky. She was unstoppable.

And she was putting on weight.

Zoe started to notice that her bras were fitting her more snugly than before, and so were her panties, the edges cutting into her hips and ass. She was getting softer, but not in an obvious way. It had taken her a while to notice that she was becoming subtly more voluptuous, her thighs, hips, breasts, and ass filling out. She wasn’t getting fat, per se, but she was heavier in a way that still displeased her. She had always been small and skinny, and now had to get used to her new, fuller body. It was odd, because she was usually underweight. She didn’t enjoy eating, and couldn’t say that she consumed much more than weed and alcohol throughout most days.

But then, it was probably all the drinking.

That was really the only explanation. Maybe she was getting older, her metabolism not working as well as it had in her earlier twenties.

Zoe decided to keep an eye on the issue, though she admittedly did not attempt to change her diet (or lack thereof). She continued drink in her attempts at sedation. And the weight continued to steadily pile on.

She got fuller and softer, ass stretching out her leggings, and hips shoving down her waistbands as they strained to cling on. Her thighs began to rub together. Her face got somewhat rounder, which notably disrupted her severe appearance, softening her sharp cheeks and jawline, making her look a little too approachable for her liking.

More inconveniently than anything else, her previously-flat chest was blowing up. Her small A-cups had rapidly swollen to Cs, and were only growing, forcing her into the expensive chore of shopping for new bras, only to realize that she was continuing to rapidly change despite her efforts to reign it in.

She cut back significantly on her drinking, but even after that, her breast-flesh began to bulge over the cups of her newest bras. Now only were the mounds larger, but they were rounder, fuller, and more sensitive. There was an uncomfortable tenderness that made her squirm at times. And on the days that she actually had to go in to the office, she felt uncharacteristically self-conscious. She felt as though she was losing control of herself. That she was becoming something different entirely.

But then, it was only a little weight gain. Maybe she was being overdramatic about things.

After all, it could have been worse.

Zoe found strange comfort in gazing out her kitchen window and watching Emily heave herself out of her car one afternoon. She watched the other woman waddle towards her house, a large, grease-stained brown paper bag clutched under one of Emily’s arms. Not even waiting to get inside, Emily was impatiently stuffing her face with handfuls of french-fries all while panting and struggling, looking like she could just collapse beneath her swollen mass.

“Completely disgusting,” Zoe mused aloud, unable to stop a smile from curling her lips.

-

Emily had tried everything she could do induce labor. She attempted exercises—those she could handle, such a walking, and some awkward yoga poses that made her feel so tightly stretched at her bulging abdomen, she feared that she might rupture something. She had tried nipple stimulation, which was an awkward process, but she was supposed to be doing it anyway, her legs quivering beneath her. Still, she had no contractions, not even the inconvenient fake ones that pregnant women complained about in TV shows. She had eaten spicy foods until she was in tears, and had drank enough herbal, labor-inducing teas to make her nauseous.

Emily was certain she had tried everything short of sex. She found herself at a new high of frustration and at one point, on the verge of calling Edward, but fortunately, managed to stop herself. Edward was upset as it was by the whole situation. She couldn’t bring herself to use him like that.

So now Emily was left slumped back in her large living room armchair, limbs akimbo, as she rubbed her hands against the throbbing mass of her belly. She couldn’t seem to stop rubbing it. It was huge, and dominated her attention as much as it did her body. She felt as though she could hardly support it anymore. Not that she had been supporting it particularly well from the start.

Emily lifted the bag of ice from the end table beside her and applied it to her belly, her chest, her face. She was just so overheated. She popped a few ice chips into her mouth and moaned quietly as she sucked on them. She couldn’t understand her poor luck. She couldn’t believe the state she was in.

She looked heavily overdue. She looked as though she was carrying twins, or more. So far Emily had been too humiliated to reach out to friends or family members for help, but it was completely exhausting just to get up and put together a simplistic meal, or answer her door. She didn’t know how much longer she could last on her own. And now she had this issue of not going into labor to worry about, on top of everything else.

After another hour of resting in the chair, Emily heaved herself up, belly shuddering as she forced her way to her feet. She wadded about, belly swinging, hips straining, and back arching as she balanced the great mass before her. She just needed this thing to drop. In only moments, she was huffing, sweating, and gasping for breath. “Why can’t I do this?” she groaned aloud, continuing to kneed her swollen flesh with the heels of her hands.

This whole thing had been bizarre from the start. None of her specialists had provided any logical physical explanation. It was almost like her rapid pregnancy was the cause of supernatural influences.

Emily didn’t know why, but her gaze shifted to the cabinet to the left side of the living room. Grunting quietly, she held her back and waddled over. Lately the cabinet distracted her at times, her attention absently drifting to it. Without really thinking of why, Emily reached down and opened the drawer.

The broken statuette sat within, the woman’s face blank and staring as it lay askew beneath a few pieces of unopened mail.

Emily reached down and lifted it, cradling the broken artifact carefully in her hands.

She had thought about tossing it. It was unpleasant to have damaged things in her house. But there was the possibility that it was important or valuable, so Emily had compromised by relegating it to her china cabinet drawer to be hidden with other junk.

Now as she scrutinized it, Emily couldn’t help thinking that it looked different than it had when she had first put it away. The bronze felt strangely warm, and it almost seemed to be emanating a glow.

I have to put it back together.

The stray thought darted through Emily’s mind. But it wasn’t just a thought, it was a need. The pieces belonged together. They could be the answer to everything.

Cradling the broken figure against her chest with one hand, Emily held her back with the other, and began to wobble towards her front door.

Huffing and puffing, she pushed her way through it, before hauling herself across her lawn to the neighboring property. Before she knew it, she was banging on Zoe’s door.

The door swung open, and a long-haired blonde man answered. He was fit and wearing only a towel draped low on his hips. His goofy grin fell at seeing Emily, his eyes widening as they shot down to her massive stomach. “Uh, hi mam,” he said.

Emily winced. She had never been called “mam,” in her life, and it hurt. “Where’s Zoe?” she spat, face flushed and belly heaving with her breathlessness.

The man looked momentarily puzzled, before something registered. “Oh, righ—”

“What do you want?” said Zoe, shoving him slightly to face Emily in the door. She gave Emily a once-over and snorted.

Only at that moment did Emily remember that she was dressed in nothing but a cotton nightgown that hugged her form and rested high on her thighs, feet jammed into a pair of flip-flops.

“You’re huge,” Zoe remarked rudely.

But Zoe seemed to have put on weight herself. She was wearing a bandeau top and boxers, and Emily couldn’t help staring at how—sexual—Zoe had become when she was not wearing her flowing black jackets and boyish button-downs. Zoe’s ordinarily wiry, unfeminine body had changed significantly, round breasts now sticking out against her top, nipples bulging evidently. The boxers would have slipped low on her hips in the past, but now clung tightly to the rounded flesh, hugging into Zoe’s ass, even riding up the plump skin. Zoe had put on weight, and a good amount of it. She was sort of voluptuous all the sudden. It was completely and utterly unfair.

Emily’s eyes snapped back up as Zoe cleared her throat.

“Is there a reason you’re standing on my porch, all dazed and gigantic?” Zoe said. She tilted her head, giving Emily a quizzical look. “Should you…even be on your feet? Not that I care. But fuck, how many babies do you have in there?

Emily reddened. She absently squeezed the broken figurine in her hand. “Zoe, you—you left your bins out again,” she heard herself whining. “Last time they ticketed me.” This was followed by some panting.

“Thanks mom,” Zoe responded with sarcasm. “But shouldn’t you be pushing out several infants right now. God, you’re huge.”

Emily was nearly hyperventilating. She felt herself growing hotter.

“I know they’re not Edwards,” Zoe arbitrary added, a sweet little aside. “I hope that dick was worth it.”

Zoe’s one-night-stand was standing to the side looking both scandalized and amused. He alternated his gaze between each woman, his mouth open wide.

Emily gave a miserable groan. “Can I just—I need to see your side of the artifact,” she said as she cupped the underside of her swollen mound.

Zoe furrowed her eyebrows. “My what? You mean the stupid statue thing? You’re still griping about that? Are you nuts?

Emily restrained a whimper, rubbing her hands on the sides of her huge mound. It felt as though it was pulsating by then.

“I think you’re clinically insane,” Zoe ranted. “You have clear and blatant problems,” Zoe gave a pointed look to Emily’s huge abdomen. “But you’re still buzzing around, bitching about recycling bins, parking spots, and stupid little figurines.”

“You still have it, don’t you?” gasped Emily, fearing that Zoe had thrown it away.

“You need professional help,” Zoe said, “I don’t know if you’re a perfectionist, anally retentive, or just pathologically annoying. But you need to see someone.”

That was when Emily saw it. Something bright, beyond Zoe’s shoulder. It was perched sideways on a coffee table, in apparent use as a paperweight. It was Zoe’s half—no, Emily’s half—of the figurine. Emily knew that if she had it, it would resolve something. It would be Emily’s again, and something within her would be whole!

Emily determinedly started forward. She had intended to slip past Emily and the gaping blonde dude, but ended up unintentionally shoving them with her belly. The blonde guy was so startled, he flopped to the floor. Zoe stumbled back, looking completely appalled.

Emily continued to force herself forward, jerking her arm free as Zoe attempted to grab at it.

“What are you doing!?” Zoe cried. “Get out of my house!”

But Emily just needed to statuette back. She was already so close. She forced one leg in front of the other, and finally reached down and grasped it in her free hand.

“You really are insane!?” Zoe shrieked.

Arms quavering, Emily brought the two broken pieces together.

There was a flash of bright white light that left Emily momentarily blinded. She saw the most bizarre vision, one of Zoe, only she was round with child, flushed, glowing.

The vision faded, and Emily’s insides twisted. She was suddenly back inside Zoe’s living room, holding onto the wall for balance as her belly gave a painful shudder.

“Oh god,” she groaned, as her whole gut shifted downwards. There was a splash of liquid between her thighs. She was going into labor.

Zoe screamed.

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Comments (7)
user avatar
User #11418356 - 12 Apr 20 14:31
For a second there I thought we were going to see an insane preg-transfer scene, can't wait for the next chapter. :D
user avatar
Kompera - 16 Apr 20 07:47
Thanks :)
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User #2714932 - 18 Feb 20 03:03
I cant wait to see just how big both of them get! Amazing work.
user avatar
Kompera - 18 Feb 20 18:02
Thank you :D
user avatar
User #230963 - 17 Feb 20 23:12
I hope Zoe gets much fatter to teach her a lesson. When she's too fat to get with more guys, the hypermomma might finally stop taking on more babies...
user avatar
Kompera - 18 Feb 20 18:02
Haha, I didn't think of it that way!
user avatar
User #230963 - 18 Feb 20 20:41
It can be tough to think that some people don't find Zoe's growing curves to be super sexy, indeed!
Choose My Next New Story 2020-02-14T01:18:24+00:00

Please follow this link, and select the story idea you would be most interested in for my next new multi-chaptered story.

The top two choices will be options in the next and final poll to decide on my next new story.

Poll will close in 48 hours.

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Comments (8)
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User #2411931 - 16 Feb 20 05:35
awesome! Insect Queen won!
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User #2662640 - 14 Feb 20 06:55
I would be happy with N or P
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User #4803830 - 18 Feb 20 02:44
Oh wow my submission won! Super happy people are keen for it!
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User #23101623 - 14 Feb 20 01:22
All on O!
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Kompera - 18 Feb 20 18:01
There's one more poll (for some reason ^^;) But it looks like Insect is a shoo-in. Excited :D
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User #16761178 - 14 Feb 20 05:22
Q!!!
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User #16761178 - 16 Feb 20 12:46
I for one welcome our new insect overlord!
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User #3793314 - 14 Feb 20 01:27
Insect Queen, here i come
Laying, Part 9 2020-02-14T00:18:33+00:00

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Summary: Aiden is livestock on a farm, and every day produces five or so unfertilized eggs, which the farm sells as food with their other products. But when the farm gets esteemed visitor, Dean Chambers, Dean chooses Aiden as a bed-mate, and Aiden has no choice but to produce fertilized eggs, which are not sellable. When Dean leaves, the farmer gives Aiden hormones to double his egg output to make up for lost time, which makes it harder for Aiden to lay his eggs in a timely manner. Even worse, Dean unexpectedly returns, again causing Aiden’s eggs to become fertilized, and Dean isn’t too keen about letting Aiden lay them. Contains: Male: belly expansion, pregnancy, egg laying, breast expansion, stuffing, and more.

Previous Chapter

-

Aiden’s belly was a massive, throbbing ball. His tunic felt impossibly tight.

It was getting late, but the dinner party was still in full swing. Dean was uncharacteristically merciful. He guided Aiden to a guest wing on the first floor, Aiden leaning heavily, practically collapsing against his side.

“Get some rest,” Dean encouraged. “I will come to get you when the party is over, and we’ll go up to bed together.”

“Are you sure?” Aiden gasped, though he was already settling against the soft mattress. His belly seemed to be trembling slightly, his abdominals shuddering against the strain of it.

“Go to sleep,” Dean ordered, before leaving.

Aiden’s hand’s shook. He could barely undo several of the clasps on his tunic—those against his abdomen—before his eyelids were drifting shut, and he was curling slightly against the heat of his massive belly perched on the mattress beside him.

-

Aiden was partaking in a shallow, uncomfortable sleep, when something roused him.

He squirmed his way to consciousness.

He was not sure how long he had been out, but he could detect that the party was still on. He could hear the enthusiastic chatter, the laughing voices, and the melodious music drifting in from several rooms away.

But that was not what had stirred him. After all, he had drifted off to the sound of it.

Aiden felt a chill in the room. He shifted his sleepy gaze to the large bay windows, and was startled to that they were pulled wide open and several figures were standing around them. Three other people now occupied the dark room.

Aiden was suddenly wide awake.

His first thought was that some party guests had gotten lost, or had simply come by to ogle him while he was unconscious. His second thought was that the first one was fallible, ridiculous, and perhaps optimistic, because even if they were party guests, there was nothing auspicious about their dark clothing, eerie demeanor, and the fact that the French doors were hanging open behind them—wide, towering, and grand, much like the rest of the property. Open, and crooked, as though one door had been forced, hinges damaged. Though Aiden could not make out faces, he got the sense that he was being leered at, and he shivered.

“What do you want?” Aiden managed, trying to hoist himself into a sitting position, but hardly capable of even that on his own. He scrambled somewhat, his arms trembling as they supported him. Aiden tried to back away from the window, at least, but if he somehow got up from the bed, he had serious doubts that he would ever make it to the door in his breathless state. Not before the strangers could do some damage. “I’ll yell.”

Someone raised their arm and a weapon clicked. Aiden flinched. As he made out the outline of a gun, his heart pounded furiously. “Better not,” said the figure in a deep, gravelly timbre.

Aiden’s belly gave a vicious heave that made him choke slightly, muscles spasming, body clenching against the massive weight occupying it. He sobbed and hiccupped. “I—I’m with child.”

“Get up,” the same man ordered.

It was a steep request. Even when he wasn’t racked with panic and exhausted, it was a strain to get to his feet, sometimes an impossibility. His wheelchair stood in the corner, but the strangers ignored it.

Aiden shifted to the edge of the bed. He wearily swung his legs off.

“Faster.” The gun jerked threateningly.

Aiden tried. He planted his hands hard against the too-soft bed and swung himself forward with every bit of strength he had.

He failed to get up, only managing to produce a pathetic, choked wheeze.

Face red with the strain, he tried again, but it was all just—too—much.

One of the strangers marched forward. Aiden instinctively recoiled. The person snatched his elbow, and gave a sharp jerk that nearly pulled Aiden’s arm out of its socket.

But it got him to his feet.

Aiden gave a pained whine, clutching the side of his mound as he struggled to keep his balance. He was panting heavily, sweaty and shaky. “I—” He said breathlessly. “I—c-can’t—”

“Move!” the stranger hissed, still gripping his arm. Aiden felt something jabbed against his back, right behind his stomach. It was another gun. His eyes watered.

He wondered whether he should scream. How his abductors would react. They wouldn’t want to risk the noise of a gunshot. Dean’s security team would ensure a medieval punishment.

But Aiden realized that it wasn’t worth the risk to him of screaming. Not when he was so burdened with child. He was completely terrified.

Hoping that he and the baby would survive this ordeal, Aiden allowed himself to be dragged towards the window doors, struggling not to lose his balance. He couldn’t catch his breath, his belly aching and throbbing, and feeling like it would burst right open. He almost toppled, and found himself instinctively grabbing onto his escort’s coat. The man startled slightly, but he didn’t react violently, he just gave Aiden a disgusted look and dragged him all the harder.

The window doors weren’t meant for his size, and Aiden’s belly barely fit through. It was an uncomfortable squeeze, his mound scraping either side of it, as his kidnappers awkwardly had to rearrange themselves, one in front of Aiden, and the other two behind, while the thickest one and apparent leader quietly threatened Aiden with a lurid death if the pregnant man dared to try anything.

Aiden found the prospect of “trying anything” to be almost laughable in his state.

Soon Aiden was waddling through the expansive, verdant grounds in the cover of the outlining forest, his chest burning. He was so breathless, at times it was as though he was choking. If someone looked down from the dining room window, they might see him and his small, hostile ushers. But no one did. After all, the party was in full swing. Aiden was led towards a black van tucked in a narrow dirt service road used by Dean’s staff members.

He was shoved inside, barely managing not to collapse to the floor. He somehow maneuvered his straining, trembling body, easing his mound against his lap as he gasped like a fish out of water grasping onto its final moments of life.

By compulsion, his hands moved to his hot, pulsing mound, rubbing, massaging, easing the baby within. He couldn’t believe that this was happening, that he had been abducted from the house, right under Dean’s nose. There was an undeniable fallacy to wealth, abundance, and popularity, that being a false sense of security.

Several doors slammed shut. The van sped along the bumpy roads, Aiden groaning and whimpering as his belly quaked almost painfully. He gave one last glance towards Dean’s mansion, at safety and security rapidly slipping away from him.

But the van windows were deeply tinted, the poor visibility only exacerbated by the night. Aiden could see nothing but darkness beyond them.

-

Aiden could barely remember how he had gotten where he was now.

He had been riding in the van for so long, his body sweating and straining, lungs burning, hips throbbing, and eyes stinging. It could have been hours. It could have been days. He had been groggy for most of it. At some point, a bitter fluid had been forced down his throat. He didn’t even remember getting out of the van, but his body carried the aches and pains of overexertion, legs feeling like jello, splayed and useless, sort of twitching from overwork.

He appeared to be in a basement.

Not a nice or furnished one. Just a cement room with an exposed toilet in the corner, pipes dripping, a dirty sink, a wash bucket, and an old mattress lying on the floor.

Someone had brought down a space heater. That was nice, Aiden supposed, though the rising panic. He was on the cool floor, sitting against the rough, cement wall, in a position that had him uncomfortably slumped against his mass, thighs going numb beneath the weight of it. He tried to spread them a bit, to shift some of the weight to the floor between his legs. But it was a futile enterprise. He was too disoriented.

“We just want the heir,” someone said.

Aiden lifted his gaze.

His group of kidnappers appeared to have shrunken. Only one remained. It was the one with the deep, husky voice, and the thick body. The leader. Now, looking at him, Aiden could see his scarred, wrinkled face, his tangled beard, the dirty winter hat, and his wide, red eyes, sort of crazed in their emptiness. He had to be mid-fifties, but still looked strong; capable. “If you give up the heir, we will let you go.”

So this was about Dean. They wanted what was his. Aiden had never imaged that Dean could have enemies. Everyone seemed to love and adore him, to the point of being sycophantic in their praise of him. He was smart, handsome, generous, and charming. If he ever was selfish or greedy, these quiet faults were kept strictly in the confines of his own home.

“If you birth it right now—”

“I—I c-cant,” Aiden choked out, hating as he heard himself sob. There were already tears streaming down his face, but he blamed the damn hormones. “Even if I wanted to, I c-can’t give b-birth to this.” He motioned to his jutting abdomen. “I-it’s—t-too—big.”

The man gave him a baffled look. “There must have been a plan.” He now looked highly suspicious; doubtful of Aiden’s explanation.

“I d-don’t know,” Aiden forced out.

The man gave Aiden a long, grim look, standing there, appraising him, any hint of negotiability fading into his calloused features.

“My name is Curtis,” he said in an apathetic tone. “We’ll be getting to know each other.”

-

Aiden was exhausted.

He remained slumped on the floor. He was provided with a dirty bucket of what he could only describe as slop. Yet he ate it enthusiastically, as he felt absolutely starved.

He felt like an animal, slumped there, stuffing fistfuls of the lumpy gray gruel into his mouth. It was slimy and had unpleasant lumps of fat and wheat—dumplings of sorts. It also seemed to be littered with additional starches—rice, pasta, potato chunks. It had an underlying taste of lard, and some chemical. The more Aiden ate, the hungrier he seemed to become. It could have been poison, yet he gobbled his way through the entire bucket, before releasing a loud belch, and groaning, and still feeling strangely ravenous.

He tried to make his way towards the mattress, which laid flat in the center of the room. It was a long, arduous, process of shifting himself, inch by inch, while sweating profusely. Crawling hardly worked, because his belly pressed into the floor.

Soon he was curled on his side, gasping for breath, breasts aching. They seemed to be growing with his agitation. He stared down at the fat E-cups on his chest, nipples erect, stinging, throbbing. He was sweating profusely. Feebly, he reached up to his chest, undoing the fastenings on his tunic, allowing his breasts to bulge free.

The basement had no windows, and Aiden was oblivious of what sort of place he was being held in. A residence, he presumed. Somewhere remote. There was a staircase leading upwards to a door out of the basement. The door opened when Curtis came and went.

It creaked open at that moment. Curtis descended the staircase with his slow, even footfalls.

Aiden’s breasts felt unbearably hot, and he heard himself release a pained groan. Both his nipples started squirting, to his mortification. He struggled feebly to tug the opening of his tunic closed over them.

Aiden gave harsh gasps for breath as Curtis came over to survey him. The older man lowered himself to a crouch.

Aiden shuddered as a large, calloused hand, reached down, to roughly cup Aiden’s mound through the stretched material of his top. Aiden felt his back arch, belly jutting against the hand, his whole torso shuddering as he struggled to contain the pressure. “Ngghhhhh…”

“You know, the stuff I’m feeding you is incredibly heavy. It is all specifically engineered to make that baby of yours put on weight.”

“Hahhhhh…hahhhh….” Aiden panted.

“It will only make you grow larger. Faster,” Curtis continued. “Your only option is to give birth now.” He gave the mound a squeeze that made Aiden yelp.

“I…can’t….” Aiden groaned, flushed and quavering. He clutched what he could of his belly, breathing thinly.

“It’s your decision,” said Curtis coldly.

It wasn’t a decision at all.

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Comments (2)
user avatar
User #12680745 - 14 Feb 20 00:59
This, this is what I like.
user avatar
Kompera - 14 Feb 20 01:38
:D
Choose My Next New Story 2020-02-06T16:43:18+00:00

Please follow this link, and select the story idea you would be most interested in for my next new multi-chaptered story.

The top five choices will be options in the next and final poll to decide on my next new story.

Poll will close in 72 hours.

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Comments (32)
user avatar
User #2714932 - 7 Feb 20 19:57
Hey! At least a few folks liked my idea. :D
user avatar
User #27538928 - 7 Feb 20 22:55
Which one was yours again?
user avatar
User #2714932 - 7 Feb 20 23:07
H
user avatar
Kompera - 8 Feb 20 06:48
I like that one!
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User #3793314 - 6 Feb 20 19:31
I feel like a multi-option poll would work better on this than having to decide on 1 out of those many stories. I, for example, have 4 favourites there
user avatar
Kompera - 7 Feb 20 04:58
The single option choice is to make sure that both male and female focused-stories have a fair chance. Typically, people just vote on the stories with a character of their preferred gender. Additionally, in this format, people are free to change their votes if it looks like one of their top choices are going to make it without their help. I do that all the time in the monthly story poll.
user avatar
User #3261920 - 6 Feb 20 20:53
Definitely hard to pick from with so many juicy ideas. But thats more to look forward to in the next batch.
user avatar
Kompera - 7 Feb 20 05:00
:D
user avatar
User #27538928 - 8 Feb 20 16:22
Haha udders 😗
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User #17460767 - 7 Feb 20 22:03
Did I miss it or are there none that include an udder?
user avatar
Kompera - 8 Feb 20 06:49
I think Q is the only idea that might be able to include udders?
user avatar
User #2650301 - 12 Feb 20 20:57
Although not the top, but B has udders in it :D
user avatar
User #27538928 - 7 Feb 20 14:58
I still hope my idea pulls through lol ugh this hard to watch
user avatar
User #12638911 - 6 Feb 20 22:40
hopefully either a, p or q :)
user avatar
Kompera - 7 Feb 20 05:05
Yeah, Q looks pretty fun.
user avatar
Kompera - 7 Feb 20 05:09
As does A and P :D
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User #788272 - 7 Feb 20 05:52
Ahaha, mine is only at 6%. I'm not super surprised but it was worth a shot. >.>;;
user avatar
Kompera - 7 Feb 20 13:03
It's a good idea. Though may have been too similar to Pet Shop.
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User #27538928 - 9 Feb 20 18:32
Bummer second place lol
user avatar
User #27538928 - 7 Feb 20 05:00
I really really hope A pulls through lol
user avatar
Kompera - 7 Feb 20 05:07
Looks like A is one of the leaders!
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User #16761178 - 9 Feb 20 21:20
Shame my idea only got 2%. Oh well, that's how the ball bounces. I'm all in for "Q" now!
user avatar
Kompera - 14 Feb 20 01:38
It was a good idea! Maybe next time :D
user avatar
User #23101623 - 7 Feb 20 07:19
“O” looks like the best, but “K” takes second place.
user avatar
User #27538928 - 8 Feb 20 20:31
I was really really hoping for a but e is equally smexy and twisted lol
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User #196422 - 7 Feb 20 07:02
Here's hoping for O!
user avatar
User #134276 - 6 Feb 20 22:27
Awww I was REALLY hoping for F but it doesn’t look like it....
user avatar
Kompera - 7 Feb 20 05:00
There's still time!
user avatar
User #27538928 - 6 Feb 20 18:00
Ahhhhhh I hope my story pulls through lol it had so many likes!
user avatar
Kompera - 7 Feb 20 04:56
:D
user avatar
User #27538928 - 7 Feb 20 05:01
E is also good :)
user avatar
Kompera - 7 Feb 20 05:08
Oh yeah, E is a great idea!
Submitted Story Ideas 2020-02-06T16:39:24+00:00

A. A group of college girls get abducted by aliens and are forced to become breeders. They are hooked up to breeding stalls, restrained and forced to give birth like livestock. Force feeding, massive weight gain and rapid pregnancy, through tentacles or machinery.


B. After a one night stand with a cowgirl, a fratboy finds out what happens when you drink milk from a cowgirl. Ignoring it at first, he changes more and more. He then starts to notice the women he messes around with around campus, are cowgirls after all, (blaming them for his changes) not knowing it's actually HIM that's changing them into cowgirls. What happens when he crosses path with the original cowgirl now pregnant? What happens if he drinks more milk? Contains: muscle growth, penis growth, breast growth, pregnancy expansion, multiple breast


C. Summary: Everybody has secrets. Unfortunately for Prince Cameron that's turning into a hostile dragonborn when he gets too angry or wants something. The creatures latest endeavors are seated on claiming the new stable hand Xavier for his partner and brood mother. Contains: Male: partial dragon transformations, pregnancy, fluff, possession, and threats of violence (towards others not to Xavier)


D. “A Space Explorer comes into possession of a vial of unique parasitic eggs. These eggs are know to grow once implanted within the host, providing a stimulating and intensely pleasurable experience with each growth spurt. Having a bit of a pregnancy fetish she decides to implant herself with them and they do not disappoint. However, there are unforeseen complications; The amount of eggs she used, the fact the growth spurts can occur at any time, unprotected sex leads to a growth surge due to the semen acting like a catalyst. Then, of course, there's birthing the eggs themselves.”


E. Insect Queen. A young woman is injected with a serum by her vindictive ex who works in genetic engineering. Over time the woman begins to bloat up, her petite breasts becoming full and large, and strange developments beginning on her scalp, above her rear, and beneath her arms. Eventually she is forced to hide as she develops antennae, two more sets of srms, two more sets of breasts, and a large insect abdomen to supplement her bloated stomach. She begins to lay over a hundred eggs, but soon realises her last coupling resulted in her becoming fertilised for life, and will lay more eggs every few months/weeks. Soon she is struggling to raise a horde of bug girls supported by the state, each clamouring for her milk.


F. A struggling erotic dancer / waitress takes an experimental treatment to answer her wish for "More boobs". Unfortunately, she quite literally begins to sprout additional breasts across her body. However, as more and more, wealthier and wealthier clients begin to seek her out, asking for private shows, she becomes unable to stop expanding her body for money....


G. To build an army- Scientist decides to “build” an army to take over the world. To do so, he genetically modifies unsuspecting 20somethings and impregnates them with rapid-grow babies, who may or may not alter their original modifications. Protagonist signs up and gets trapped, then slowly becomes assimilated and wants to continue to be pregnant.


H. A young entrepreneur who runs a small but well established bakery owner is looking for some help running his business. Nobody really seems interested in the position he's listed as available until an already rather expectant mother waddles her way in with the need for work and a rather large appetite. Stuffing, weight gain and the like would surely take place, given your style. :D


I. Girlfriend A "Boyfriend" Sequel/Spinoff The hybrid daughter of Cona struggles to reconcile her love for her girlfriend with her increasing urges to breed and the knowledge of what it did to her mother. She soon finds herself subconsciously urging her to eat and feeding her, all the while undergoing subtle changes herself.


J. The protagonist decides, as their new years resolution, to go to the gym and get in shape. Not long after starting, they start using a highly addictive black-market steroid to get shredded quickly. The milk-like drug works better than he could have hoped, but he did not reckon on the drastic side-effects it begins to have on him. Slowly but surely, the protagonist turns into a busty futa of amazon proportions, with a burning desire to breed and be bred. Contains: male to futanari transformation, breast growth, butt growth, penis growth, muscle growth, hip growth, increasing height, pregnancy and lactation


K. A prequel to "Medication": Over 100 years ago, one of Tristan's ancestors was orphaned at a young age and works as a maid for a wealthy bachelor. Now 18, she begins to experience the family curse in Victorian London. She doesn't know why it is happening to her and must research her mysterious family history before she becomes overwhelmed by the sheer number of children that she has to care for. Meanwhile, her employer takes a particular interest in his young maid's condition. Contains: Female pregnancy, hip growth, butt growth, breast growth, lactation, birth, stuffing, and weight gain.


L. A baker struggling to make ends meet lures and captures one of his newly found to be pregnant customers/employees to use for sweet milk production to save on milk and sugar prices. Contains female pregnancy, weight gain, hip/butt expansion, breast expansion.


M. "Struggling to make rent, a plucky college dropout is offered a job at a hole-in-the-wall curio shop that deals in oddities, including exotic pets she has never heard of before. The shop owner warns her to be careful when caging a pair of colorful, large caterpillars, but she accidentally leaves the cage lid loose one night before passing out in the break room. She discovers these caterpillars prefer to lay their eggs where it's warm and wet, and when she gives birth to triple their stock her employer offers her bonuses for every exotic creature she carries to term."
Features rapid, successive pregnancies, birth, some light unbirth, and possible mutation. I imagine it as being like a combination of Slugs and Pet Shop, with a touch more romance. I really like the relationship between the protagonists in Pet Shop and I really want more of that. <333


N. A young man living with his camgirl roommate accidentally takes her 'performance enhancing' drugs leading to his new developments and a rise to stardom in the camgirl fetish community, much to the roommates dissatisfaction. He seems distressed but his and his roomates friends are quite happy about the new developments. Would feature breast expansion, lactation, weight gain, stuffing, ass expansion, gender transformation and pregnancy.


O. A lesbian couple in the far future try an experimental treatment to concieve children- auto-fertilization. The volunteer undergoes the treatment with no success. Treatments are done to up the released ova to get one to stick. She is soon pregnant. And pregnant several times over. It is soon revealed that fertilized ova are released every month, and by the time they fix the situation, she is pregnant to an unknown degree. Thankfully, they live on Mars so her burgeoning pregnancy is easier to carry, but it becomes apparent that it might still render her immobile under her expanding stomach.


P. Gabe just got engaged to his boyfriend Eric. Congrats! There’s just one catch… Eric’s family owns a farm and it’s an old tradition that anybody wanting to marry into the family has to prove their worth by birthing a series of animals for the farm, starting with a few small chicken eggs and going all the way up to a Clydesdale foal. Is Gabe up to the challenge? Contains: male pregnancy, weight gain, multiple pregnancies, penis growth and transformation, "turkey baster"/IVF-style fertilisation, lactation.


Q. A highly rated college professor finds herself being blackmailed by one of her students to do his bidding. In a desperate effort to protect her name and job, she finds herself putting on weight, enduring strange experiments, and before long a massive pregnancy that he wont let her birth. Contains: female pregnancy, multibreast, transformation, weight gain, lactation, breastation , and buttbreasts.



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Nest, Part 3 2020-02-04T04:22:11+00:00

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Summary: Becky is pregnant with large alien beetles which crawl in an out of her at their whim and are forming a nest inside her abdomen. Contains: Female: belly expansion, breast expansion, unbirthing, and more...

Previous Chapter

-

When she lay in bed that night, and tried to sleep, she could feel the bugs crawling all over her body, rather freely now, with a sense of ownership. Even when she brushed and swatted at them, they could hardly be bothered by her less than welcoming treatment.

She tossed and turned, seeking a comfortable position. But by morning time, she wasn’t even close to well-rested.

In a daze, she put on combat boots and a baggy dress.

During her ride to school, she realized her mistake.

The bugs made thick, crawling rivers along the inside of her thighs. They were so active, her loins felt as though they were pulsing. Once she got to school, she hurried into a bathroom with her gym bag, and pulled on a pair of leggings.

She groaned, unsure of whether this was at all an improvement. Now the bugs forced themselves along, uncomfortably dragging against her legs, while partially squashed by the leggings. If anyone paid attention, they would see unsightly, moving bulges along her legs, and a thickening lump at her groin.

But she didn’t have any other choice but to wear it. It hid the actually bugs, and she didn’t have any baggier pants, not with her. Breathing heavily, Becky made her way to class.

Her belly was only getting tighter. There was a continuous twittering sensation within her. She swore, she looked seven months pregnant by then. It was just awful.

She tried her best to hold the bugs in during an essay. She fitted herself with a vaginal cup, and could feel the bugs piling up against it, trying to force their way through, but it didn’t budge.

Instead the pressure in her gut surged uncomfortably, until she had to pause several times to cup her lurching stomach.

Her insides churned visibly. She just so tight, so full, it felt as though the things were struggling, and fighting against her drawn skin.

She swore she saw a knot rolling along her flesh, the outline of a particularly fat insect. She felt like she might be sick.

Becky found herself again racing through the remainder of her school work, before excusing herself, and hurrying to the nearest bathroom.

She jerked down her pants and panties, and pulled off the vaginal cup as she dropped down on the toilet. She felt a clump bugs plop heavily out of her, before they began to just sprinkle down into the water, their movements against her loins making her shudder.

Some crawled along her thighs, up her belly, even her breasts. She just twitched and pushed, trying to get as much as she could out. There was another plop into the toilet. She sighed when her stomach finally stopped cramping.

Flicking stray insects off her torso, Becky leaned back against the toilet. She lifted her backpack from the ground and began to rummage through it.

She wasn’t sure why she decided to do it at that moment, but she pulled a large bottle of maple syrup out of her backpack, opened the cap, and began to suck it down.

Her belly heaved with her long sucks, some syrup even dripping down her chin and rolling along her chest, leaving sticky sweet trails.

She may have been imagining it—but she felt an abrupt decrease in activity. Becky sucked more and more, indulging, but also experimenting. The bugs on her thighs seemed to trail back inside her. The others, already packed in her stomach, seemed to move more slowly now, almost lethargically. She felt a sense of contentedness. Were they feeding on the syrup? Was it calming the frenzy?

Becky lowered the bottle from her lips, slumped back, and sighed, taking advantage of the slight reprieve from discomfort and squirming.

She couldn’t afford to keep having these issues. There was no way she would get through the remainder of her exams, let alone the start of college, like this.

She needed a permanent solution. And she knew that meant a professional consult.

Still feeling too mortified to visit the family physician, Becky realized her next best option. After all, she had some brilliant classmates.

-

That evening, Becky made a call to one of her classmates.

“Reyna, I really wanted to talk to you,” said Becky breathlessly that evening. She absently rubbed her hand up and down her bloated belly.

Reyna sounded skeptic on the other line. “You’ve hardly even talked to me the whole semester. What about your studies?” she added sarcastically. Becky could practically hear Reyna rolling her eyes on the other line.

“I’m sorry, Rey. You know I can be really one-track-minded,” said Becky, growing desperate. Reyna was the smartest person she knew, and the girl was absolutely obsessed with the biomedical field. “Hang out with me. Let me make it up to you.”

There was a pause on the other line. “You sound like you want something.”

There was no denying it. It would be abundantly clear the moment Reyna spotted her anyway. “Yes, well, I…seem to have run into a medical issue.”

“Becky…” Reyna reproved.

“A very unique one,” Becky insisted. “Honestly, this is the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard seen. It will be worth your while.”

There was a long pause. When Reyna finally spoke, she still sounded dubious. “When are you free?”

“My parents will be out of town all weekend, and Charlie’s gonna be working,” Becky breathed in relief.

“See you tomorrow, then,” said Reyna. “I hope you have something good for me.” With that, the other girl hung up.

Becky lowered the phone.

The bugs were really active again. It felt as though they were swarming, squishing, pushing out at her stuffed insides. She whimpered, and grasped for the syrup bottle on her nightstand. She took several generous gulps, but they only calmed down by a marginal degree.

Then Becky’s hand and the syrup bottle wore moving. She didn’t know why she did it, or quite what she was thinking, but she brought the spout of the syrup bottle to her groin, spread her legs, and tilted the bottle downwards.

She groaned as the sticky fluid began to pour inside of her. With her free hand, she hastily shoved a pillow under her ass, lifting it up slightly, so gravity would aid the syrup through her passage. “Ohhh…” she groaned, face reddening. Vaguely, she began to wonder what the hell she was doing? But there was a marked decease in activity, the insects inside her feeling as though they had abruptly frozen in place.

There were stragglers on her thighs and the bed around her, which rapidly crawled back into her groin, causing her to groan as her belly tightened. But those, too, became still once inside her. Whimpering in disgust, Becky continued to pour.

She finished the rest of the bottle. It had been half-full. Her belly felt bloated, full, and heavy, and as she encountered the mirror, she couldn’t believe how much she had grown, how huge she had gotten in only a matter of days, her belly resembling a pregnancy, stretching her as it pushed away from her body. The sheer mass of bugs that she could be harboring just made her grimace in revulsion. But she tried not to think about it. Instead, she tried to appreciate the complete inactivity, no bugs scrambling in or out of her. It was their first episode of complete motionless since this whole thing had started. So she decided to take advantage of it, and relax.

She rummaged in her dresser for a vaginal plug to keep the bugs, and the syrup, inside her.

-

Becky awoke the next morning, thighs spread, hips twitching, belly lurching, and became abruptly aware that the bugs were back to their vicious squirming, though fortunately, it wasn’t too frenzied. Becky absently held the side of her abdomen.

She had been up most of the night, musing about it, when she should have been sleeping. But she couldn’t help thinking that it had been the perfect condition to be test-taking, the insects no longer distracting her or escaping her body. Before her next exam, she could try the syrup treatment again, gross as it was. It was time to step up her grades.

Becky removed the plug, but found no sticky syrup residue, just her normal fluids. As she pushed herself up into a sitting position, a loud belch escaped her throat, one that tasted like maple syrup and smelled like it too. It reminded her that she might want to stock up on more syrups, honeys, icings, and other sweet, squeezable substances.

As she stood up, another long belch escaped her. It seemed she was having a resurgence of gassiness, but at least she didn’t have school that day. Besides that, she was still new to—well, to being fat—and it was nice to have a break from feeling self-conscious.

Becky pulled on a baggy T-shirt dress, and left her room. She had woken up late, which meant Charlie and her parents were already gone, and she didn’t have to be discreet about her bump. She belched a few more times, scratched her side, then sat down on the couch. She idly massaged her bloated flesh, trying to kneed out the gassiness, and trying to ignore the strengthening lurches of movement.

Eventually she couldn’t put off her feelings of hunger any longer, and heaved herself up from the couch. Her appetite had surged in the past few days. Becky made her way to the kitchen, looking around to see if her family had left any breakfast for her.

There was a modest plate of eggs and bacon in the oven, with a slice of toast. It was almost too modest, not the generous portion of food she was accustomed to her mother dishing out for her.

“But I’ve gained weight,” Becky murmured sardonically as she pulled the plate out.

She demolished the food in only a moment or two. Afterwards, she breathed heavily, uncertain of why she felt so anxious.

The bugs had not calmed, but were growing more frantic in their movements. It was clear that their hunger had not been satisfied. And neither had hers.

Becky opened the refrigerator. There was a large mixing bowl of leftover mashed potatoes and gravy from the night before. Mom had intentionally made too much, knowing that Becky and Charlie were unlikely to cook while she was gone for the weekend.

Becky pulled out the bowl. She got a spoon from a drawer.

Not bothering to sit down, she set the bowl on the counter, and began to dig in, shoving spoon after spoon into her mouth, gulping it down. It was soft and slithered easily down her throat, lurching into her stomach. Though her belly was already bloated, she felt a weird contentedness in the discomfort. Becky scraped the bowl clean, then sighed, leaning her hands on the counter. The bugs had slowed down, almost placated.

Despite it, she found herself wandering back to the fridge to see what else her mother had left.

There was a massive container of macaroni and cheese. Becky picked it up and stuck it under her arm, allowing the cover to topple to the floor. She began to dig in with the same spoon as before, absently munching and swallowing as she continued to look through the fridge, barely conscious that she had already gotten something.

There was pizza leftover from the previous day’s lunch. Meat lovers with extra cheese. Six extra-large slices sat cold in the box. Charlie had ordered it, but had gotten distracted two slices in. Managing to grab the pizza box while closing the fridge door with her foot, Becky brought her bounty back to the kitchen table. She dug in voraciously, food getting everywhere, but the vast majority of it getting down her throat.

She was breathless by the time she finished both the pizza and the macaroni. She almost went back to the fridge for something else, when she stopped, really taking inventory of herself. She looked at the food sprinkled around her, at her dirty clothes and arms—at some point she had given up on the spoon and started shoving macaroni into her face with her bare hands.

Her stomach gurgled audibly and another loud belch escaped from her throat.

“Oh god,” Becky breathed, clutching her stomach. She shook her head, feeling absolutely disgusted with herself.

There was a knocking on the front door, and there couldn’t have been a worse time for it. Rather stunned, Becky wiped some gooey cheese off her face (if anything, just smearing more), before turning around and numbly making her way towards the living room.

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Design My Next Story 2020-01-31T14:56:13+00:00

This opportunity is open to ALL patrons. In 100-words or less, write a Summary for a story you would like me to write. Post your summary HERE. Do not message it to me, as it will get lost. In 72 hours, I will make a poll for users to choose the Summary they like best. The Summaries will be narrowed down throughout the month of February through polls, until the final idea will be turned into my next new story (once an opening becomes available).

Guidelines:
-Focus characters must be 18 or older. If not, your post will be deleted.
-I will ignore plot lines based around constant sex/lit-porn.
-Summaries that can potentially violate internet laws or patreon community guidelines will be deleted.
-Summaries over 100 words will be ignored.
-Users who post more than one summary will be excluded from participation.
-People who whine/complain/moan/harass will be excluded from participation and possibly blocked.
-Do not post abusive feedback on anyone else's Summary.
-If I am not comfortable with your Summary for any other reason, I will discuss it with you.

Looking forward to some cool/exciting new ideas. Message me with any questions.

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Comments (23)
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User #2714932 - 31 Jan 20 23:46
A young entrepreneur who runs a small but well established bakery owner is looking for some help running his business. Nobody really seems interested in the position he's listed as available until an already rather expectant mother waddles her way in with the need for work and a rather large appetite. Stuffing, weight gain and the like would surely take place, given your style. :D
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User #27538928 - 31 Jan 20 23:48
That's seriously my dream to get my girlfriend pregnant and then stuff her nonstop with sweets lol
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User #2714932 - 31 Jan 20 23:52
I feel like it could be a sorta fun story, a bit more light hearted. Haha
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User #27538928 - 31 Jan 20 23:57
I like these stories too. I just like the fact that pregnant girls have a desire to stuff themselves instinctively and enjoy it
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User #20236357 - 31 Jan 20 23:30
To build an army- Scientist decides to “build” an army to take over the world. To do so, he genetically modifies unsuspecting 20somethings and impregnates them with rapid-grow babies, who may or may not alter their original modifications. Protagonist signs up and gets trapped, then slowly becomes assimilated and wants to continue to be pregnant.
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User #7630668 - 3 Feb 20 18:26
A highly rated college professor finds herself being blackmailed by one of her students to do his bidding. In a desperate effort to protect her name and job, she finds herself putting on weight, enduring strange experiments, and before long a massive pregnancy that he wont let her birth. Contains: female pregnancy, multibreast, transformation, weight gain, lactation, breastation , and buttbreasts.
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User #16761178 - 3 Feb 20 21:25
Breastation?
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User #27538928 - 4 Feb 20 02:04
I think the correct term is boobation. Actually never mind because that sounds like boobs becoming sentient and going on a vacation.
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Kompera - 4 Feb 20 04:30
I always used breastation as breast-gestation, is this what we're talking about?
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User #4404735 - 1 Feb 20 03:56
Girlfriend A "Boyfriend" Sequel/Spinoff The hybrid daughter of Cona struggles to reconcile her love for her girlfriend with her increasing urges to breed and the knowledge of what it did to her mother. She soon finds herself subconsciously urging her to eat and feeding her, all the while undergoing subtle changes herself.
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User #5837956 - 1 Feb 20 04:11
The protagonist decides, as their new years resolution, to go to the gym and get in shape. Not long after starting, they start using a highly addictive black-market steroid to get shredded quickly. The milk-like drug works better than he could have hoped, but he did not reckon on the drastic side-effects it begins to have on him. Slowly but surely, the protagonist turns into a busty futa of amazon proportions, with a burning desire to breed and be bred. Contains: male to futanari transformation, breast growth, butt growth, penis growth, muscle growth, hip growth, increasing height, pregnancy and lactation
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User #153521 - 3 Feb 20 05:33
A lesbian couple in the far future try an experimental treatment to concieve children- auto-fertilization. The volunteer undergoes the treatment with no success. Treatments are done to up the released ova to get one to stick. She is soon pregnant. And pregnant several times over. It is soon revealed that fertilized ova are released every month, and by the time they fix the situation, she is pregnant to an unknown degree. Thankfully, they live on Mars so her burgeoning pregnancy is easier to carry, but it becomes apparent that it might still render her immobile under her expanding stomach.
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User #4803830 - 31 Jan 20 20:55
Insect Queen. A young woman is injected with a serum by her vindictive ex who works in genetic engineering. Over time the woman begins to bloat up, her petite breasts becoming full and large, and strange developments beginning on her scalp, above her rear, and beneath her arms. Eventually she is forced to hide as she develops antennae, two more sets of srms, two more sets of breasts, and a large insect abdomen to supplement her bloated stomach. She begins to lay over a hundred eggs, but soon realises her last coupling resulted in her becoming fertilised for life, and will lay more eggs every few months/weeks. Soon she is struggling to raise a horde of bug girls supported by the state, each clamouring for her milk.
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User #230963 - 31 Jan 20 21:13
A struggling erotic dancer / waitress takes an experimental treatment to answer her wish for "More boobs". Unfortunately, she quite literally begins to sprout additional breasts across her body. However, as more and more, wealthier and wealthier clients begin to seek her out, asking for private shows, she becomes unable to stop expanding her body for money....
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User #27538928 - 31 Jan 20 15:09
A group of college girls get abducted by aliens and are forced to become breeders. They are hooked up to breeding stalls, restrained and forced to give birth like livestock. Force feeding, massive weight gain and rapid pregnancy, through tentacles or machinery.
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User #2650301 - 31 Jan 20 15:12
After a one night stand with a cowgirl, a fratboy finds out what happens when you drink milk from a cowgirl. Ignoring it at first, he changes more and more. He then starts to notice the women he messes around with around campus, are cowgirls after all, (blaming them for his changes) not knowing it's actually HIM that's changing them into cowgirls. What happens when he crosses path with the original cowgirl now pregnant? What happens if he drinks more milk? Contains: muscle growth, penis growth, breast growth, pregnancy expansion, multiple breast
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User #11418356 - 31 Jan 20 17:19
Fingers crossed, here's the summary, the option is there for a male alternative story as well... “A Space Explorer comes into possession of a vial of unique parasitic eggs. These eggs are know to grow once implanted within the host, providing a stimulating and intensely pleasurable experience with each growth spurt. Having a bit of a pregnancy fetish she decides to implant herself with them and they do not disappoint. However, there are unforeseen complications; The amount of eggs she used, the fact the growth spurts can occur at any time, unprotected sex leads to a growth surge due to the semen acting like a catalyst. Then, of course, there's birthing the eggs themselves.” May need to boost myself up a tier or two if it wins. :D
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User #27834408 - 1 Feb 20 21:57
A young man living with his camgirl roommate accidentally takes her 'performance enhancing' drugs leading to his new developments and a rise to stardom in the camgirl fetish community, much to the roommates dissatisfaction. He seems distressed but his and his roomates friends are quite happy about the new developments. Would feature breast expansion, lactation, weight gain, stuffing, ass expansion, gender transformation and pregnancy.
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User #15278993 - 1 Feb 20 14:42
A baker struggling to make ends meet lures and captures one of his newly found to be pregnant customers/employees to use for sweet milk production to save on milk and sugar prices. Contains female pregnancy, weight gain, hip/butt expansion, breast expansion.
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User #27124365 - 31 Jan 20 15:17
Summary: Everybody has secrets. Unfortunately for Prince Cameron that's turning into a hostile dragonborn when he gets too angry or wants something. The creatures latest endeavors are seated on claiming the new stable hand Xavier for his partner and brood mother. Contains: Male: partial dragon transformations, pregnancy, fluff, possession, and threats of violence (towards others not to Xavier)
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User #16761178 - 1 Feb 20 14:37
A prequel to "Medication": Over 100 years ago, one of Tristan's ancestors was orphaned at a young age and works as a maid for a wealthy bachelor. Now 18, she begins to experience the family curse in Victorian London. She doesn't know why it is happening to her and must research her mysterious family history before she becomes overwhelmed by the sheer number of children that she has to care for. Meanwhile, her employer takes a particular interest in his young maid's condition. Contains: Female pregnancy, hip growth, butt growth, breast growth, lactation, birth, stuffing, and weight gain.
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User #788272 - 1 Feb 20 20:05
"Struggling to make rent, a plucky college dropout is offered a job at a hole-in-the-wall curio shop that deals in oddities, including exotic pets she has never heard of before. The shop owner warns her to be careful when caging a pair of colorful, large caterpillars, but she accidentally leaves the cage lid loose one night before passing out in the break room. She discovers these caterpillars prefer to lay their eggs where it's warm and wet, and when she gives birth to triple their stock her employer offers her bonuses for every exotic creature she carries to term." Features rapid, successive pregnancies, birth, some light unbirth, and possible mutation. I imagine it as being like a combination of Slugs and Pet Shop, with a touch more romance. I really like the relationship between the protagonists in Pet Shop and I really want more of that. <333
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User #30078062 - 3 Feb 20 17:49
Gabe just got engaged to his boyfriend Eric. Congrats! There’s just one catch… Eric’s family owns a farm and it’s an old tradition that anybody wanting to marry into the family has to prove their worth by birthing a series of animals for the farm, starting with a few small chicken eggs and going all the way up to a Clydesdale foal. Is Gabe up to the challenge? Contains: male pregnancy, weight gain, multiple pregnancies, penis growth and transformation, "turkey baster"/IVF-style fertilisation, lactation.
Starship II 2020-01-31T14:33:03+00:00

Note: This is a story-prompt for jorgamund.

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Previous

-

Lauren was getting bigger and bigger. She was rapidly outgrowing her quarters again. But she was quickly set up in more spacious accommodation, with huge furniture, and a massive bed. A giant’s bed. But it made sense. She was almost twelve feet tall by then. Her limbs had thickened more with lean muscle. Her hips had widened and her thighs had thickened.

It was awkward to be towering over everyone else, reminded of how unusual she had become. They called up to her with raised voices when they spoke, but her ears had become more sensitive, and she could hear them with no problem.

At times, though, she couldn’t quite see them. At least not beyond her massive gut. They had to be at just the right angle, as most people seemed to be below the height of her hips by then. And her belly was massive, even on her larger, brawnier body. It was a huge bolder of a mound on her frame, making her feel as though she was pregnant with quintuplets. She waddled around, and even felt unbalanced at times. When she sat down on her mat in the lab, Dr. Ferguson had to practically climb up the steep hill of her flesh to examine her massively protruding belly button.

“Balance is irrelevant,” he assured, after she complained about her mobility issues. “In space, there is no gravity, and balance will be a superfluous notion.”

He prodded her belly button a few times, causing a tremor as she groaned. He then proceeded to stick, not just his finger, but his whole arm through the nub. It sunk down to his elbow, and she could feel him groping around inside her, causing her to grunt as a beeping noise escaped her body from somewhere deep in her chest. It was still bizarre.

“Starship is at 96 percent completion,” Lauren heard herself say in a mechanical voice. “Final construction measures are underway. I will be ready for initial boarding within twelve hours.”

“Excellent,” said Ferguson, withdrawing his arm so abruptly that she yelped. “You have done excellent work, Lauren.” With that, he got started on her daily transfusion, and Lauren felt a little dizzy, but also excited. She was almost ready.

-

That evening she had a growth spurt that quelled any hopes for rest.

She spent the night tossing, turning, sweating, aching, and stretching as she steadily outgrew her bed again, feet starting to poke off the bottom now. But it wasn’t just that. Her belly was swelling in horrible contractions that shook her as it got bigger and bigger right before her eyes. Soon it was pinning her down against the mattress and she had to shift to her side, gasping as she cradled the huge mound that rose above her like a small mountain. She groaned and squirmed.

As another surge of tension hit, she felt herself arching, as her body stretching, swelling outward. Her breasts heaved higher and outward, surging with growth that left her nipples aching. She had to be sixteen feet tall by then, yet her belly was still disproportionately, ludicrously massive.

The door to her quarters swung open, the lights turning on. Ferguson and his small entourage of researchers filtered inside.

“Oh, you’re marvelous,” he told her. He came to the end of the bed, and took her knees, spreading them apart to peer beneath her stretched nightgown.

There was a bright beam of light, and he shaded his eyes. “Beautiful,” he said in a wistful murmur. He walked back to Lauren’s side. “Absolutely perfect. Shall I do the honors?”

Breathless and sweaty, Lauren was clueless as to what he meant, but abruptly realized that he wasn’t talking to her.

“Indeed, doctor,” said one of the sycophantic researchers, happily clutching a clipboard.

Someone quickly brought a step ladder beside Lauren’s low bed. Dr. Ferguson climbed upon it and unbuttoned Lauren’s gown so her belly button was exposed. It was huge and throbbing, at least the size of a softball. He reached into it again, and Lauren felt a weird squelching sensation as he put his entire arm through. It was soon followed by his head and shoulders, the nub stretching grossly as Lauren groaned and twitched, and the doctor continued to squirm inside her. Lauren could feel herself getting fuller and heavier, her belly vibrating from the struggle. Finally, both of Ferguson’s feet disappeared inside her. A hum escaped her throat.

“Welcome, Richard Ferguson,” she stated, her vision again going a translucent green, as though she had put on a visor. She could suddenly see Dr. Ferguson grinning up at her from a pristine, yet organic-looking environment. Was that what was inside of her? Was she a real starship?

The researcher from earlier gave a satisfied little titter. “Come along, everyone,” he called. And one by one, the scientists began to board her, as Lauren twitched and groaned, and acknowledged them by name, one by one.

She was finally ready to depart.

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Egg Issues II 2020-01-31T10:58:48+00:00

Note: This is a story-prompt for Ryan Caday.

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Previous

-

The growth had stabilized. Amy was now producing ten eggs a day, which was tolerable, if just for the time being. Additionally, the eggs seemed to arrive every two or three hours. She started to schedule her life around these deliveries. And she was grateful that she had at least stopped growing.

It was still awkward to navigate around, her belly jutting out before her. She still looked as though she was nine months pregnant, maybe slightly more. She waddled and panted as she moved about. Amy noticed that her hips had widened some, and her thighs had gotten slightly softer. Her previously flat chest was gradually filling out, becoming soft B cups that grew slow and gently.

But soon they were aching, and taking on bulk at a more rapid rate. They began to bulge against the cups of her bras as they swelled rounder, fuller, and heavier. It wasn’t long before her bras were straining to contain her, tearing against the mounds, or her breasts were simply spilling out.

Soon she had steadily growing D-cups. She was just grateful that her belly showed no indication of additional growth. Her nipples were getting large and distended—actually, quite large. They were disproportionate to her breasts in their length and thickness, and her classmates stared at the way they stuck out in her tops, wiggling slightly, resembling coke caps, and then later little thumbs. Her areolas had become puffy cupolas of tender flesh beneath them, rounded and bulging. Just the slightest glide of her fingers left her trembling and panting, they were so sensitive. The way they rubbed against the fabric of her tops was almost torture, but purchasing bras had become pointless, as she would rapidly outgrow them.

She knew that it probably wasn’t helping her predicament, but Amy found herself rubbing her breast flesh in the evenings in bed, curling around the heated sensations that shot through her nipples, loins and stomach. It offered a slight reprieve from the achy discomfort that seemed to perpetually occupy her nipples now. They felt uncomfortably hard and distended, as though there was a pressure behind them, pushing them farther outward.

School was over. Just not for Amy. She had done horribly on her last final, particularly because she had been struggling to hold in an egg crowing as she sat heavily in her desk, belly quaking as she tried not to groan.

She knew she had failed, and requested a meeting with the Dean. She claimed illness, and he had taken one look at her, assuming her to pregnant. Which she was, in a way. He offered her a retake at her convenience, and she was so grateful, she could have cried. She timed things perfectly this time. Her test would be at 1PM the following week, which would give her at least an hour and fourty-five minutes before she was due to produce another egg.

She took advantage of the extra study time, and knew that she would ace the exam. When the day of the test finally came, she sat gingerly at the desk set up in the back of the Dean’s office. He handed her the exam paper and went to his file cabinet, where he busied himself looking through some paperwork.

Amy raced her way through the multiple choice questions and got started on the essay. She tried to keep her fidgeting to a minimum. Over the past few days, her breasts had only grown larger, and sat perched on her belly, looking like volleyballs by then. Her chin would often collide with them. Despite their largeness, they were still uncomfortably round and perky. She would have odd episodes of tension that would leave her squirming. Amy rubbed and fidgeted, and adjusted her top. To her growing alarm, it was happening right at that moment.

Her breasts were surging against the stretched neckline of her top. “Mmghhh…” she struggled to contain her groan, as her breasts heaved, almost on their own. They rose and fell as she flinched and squirmed, looking almost as though they were contracting. Her nipples were hard, sticking almost painfully outward as she quavered in her seat, thighs twitching. Helplessly, she rubbed at the side of the mounds. It was just so uncomfortably. So arousing. She panted as she felt herself begin to seep, right there in the Dean’s office, as her feet scrambled beneath her. “Ohhhh…nghhhhh…” She belatedly covered the mouth, but the Dean had paused and looked up.

He stared at her. Her shirt was tightening. Her nipples had grown obscenely large, like they meant to tunnel through the fabric of her shirt.

She was so hot, so tense, she felt like she might burst. She was hardly conscious as she pulled her shirt down, releasing her breasts to clutch the mounds, finding them surprisingly tense. “Errrgghhhh,” she groaned, struggling, straining, hardly understanding what was happening. A sharp pain shot through her nipples, causing her to throw her head back and wail.

Something was pushing…they were opening! She blearily looked back down in time to see droplets of white fluid—milk—spilling onto her test paper. But something harder followed, something fat and white that didn’t give way like liquid. It pushed slowly from her left nipple, to crown, the Dean’s mouth hanging open in shock. Finally, it popped free, a firm white marble. Amy gasped as another marble was ejected from her right nipple.

“Mmmgghhh…” she groaned. More things were crowning. She examined the two beads she had already produced. They were identically to what she had been producing vaginally, but smaller. They were…goodness, they were eggs!

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Competitive XIII 2020-01-31T05:23:27+00:00

Note: This is a story-prompt for That-Other-Guy.

$20 Patreon Directory

Previous

-

Two Months Earlier

It had already been about a month since her son had returned from his school trip from South America. James had come back safe and healthy, if a bit tan and chubby. After so much anxiety worrying about James wandering through verdant jungle territory, Heather was finally getting back into her ordinary routine. She was so busy catching up on deferred duties that she was belated in realizing that she had missed her period for the first time since her youngest child had been conceived.

Once it registered, Heather felt a little shaken. But she sat down to family breakfast as usual, trying not to get ahead of herself. She watched absently as her daughter, Elizabeth, picked at her food, and James dug in with poorly-restrained vigor. He had put on some more weight recently, and had been acting flushed and awkward, trying to hide it with baggy clothing. It was hardly working. He had gained a lot. But Heather was too distracted to think much on it. She was sure that he would lose any extra weight once the track season started up, like usual.

“You okay, hun?”

Heather turned to her husband, Charles. She forced a smile. “Of course.”

-

Heather left work early the following day and stopped by a pharmacy where she purchased a few pregnancy tests, which she shoved into her purse. She still just couldn’t believe she was going through this sort of thing at her age. She got home earlier than the rest of her family, prepared herself a jug of water, and locked herself into a bathroom. Breathing deeply in an effort to calm herself, she went through each of the five pregnancy tests she had purchased, one by one, until her bladder had exhausted every droplet of water she had consumed.

The results were all the same. Positive. Regardless of brand. Heart racing, she sat down on the lowered toilet seat. She didn’t know how to feel about this. She was rather stunned. Heather looked up at hearing the front door open. She threw the tests into the trash, keeping just one, which she returned to its box and stuck into her purse.

She sat in a daze through dinner, James plowing through his food, growing plumper seemingly by the moment. Elizabeth was eating slowly as she watched her brother in morbid fascination, and Charles was just frowning at them in concern.

Heather probably managed to get down two spoonfuls in her anxious state. She waited until after dinner, when she was alone with Charles in their bedroom, to finally break the news.

“He’s getting huge,” Charles was ranting. “I just can’t believe how much weight he’s put on. Maybe we should consult with a doctor. I mean, he actually looks as though he’s—”

“I’m pregnant,” Heather blurted out.

Charles spun to face her. “What?” he said in alarm.

She pulled out the test, showing him the positive sign. “I took five,” she managed.

Charles stared at the test. He took her hands. They both seated themselves on the bed. “It’s okay,” he said, reading her worried face. “God Heather—this is a good thing.” He pulled her into a tight embrace.

They decided not to tell the news to their children, at least not until they could get it confirmed by a doctor. And it was, a week later, during her OBGYN appointment, during which Heather was astonished to notice that she already had a small bump low on her navel. She and Charles agreed that they would prepare themselves to tell the kids the following day.

James was flustered and sweaty throughout the evening. They wondered if he had somehow found out, but then realized it was finals week. He was eating more than ever, but looked really stressed out. Charles encouraged him not to overwork himself.

After dinner, Charles and Heather watched the news for a few hours. It was late by the time they dragged themselves to bed, having dozed off on the couch.

“We really need to have a sit-down with our son,” said Charles.

“Mmm,” Heather hummed in vague agreement. “Goodnight Charles.”

“Good night.”

But it seemed the moment they closed their eyes, there was a shout from the basement, followed by a long groan, and yammering voices.

Charles sat up, turning on the lamp on his night table. “Keep it down!” he shouted in the direction of the basement. He frowned at Heather. “He knows he’s not supposed to have his friends over this late.”

There was a sobbing noise, and more groans, then the sound of a—baby crying?

“What on earth?” said Charles.

“Those boys and their video games,” said Heather, pulling out her ear plugs. She offered Charles a pair but he just scowled at her. “Fine, we’ll talk to him in the morning. About the weight, the stress, the friends—and everything.”

“My pride and joy.” Charles rolled his eyes.

Heather kissed his cheek. “And we get to tell the kids about the new baby.” This earned her a weary smile.

But the next morning when Charles and Heather went down to James’ basement apartment, they were welcomed by the smell of sweat, tears, and…sour milk?

James was sprawled back on a beanbag, looking drained of rather…deflated. His clothes hung off him, and clutched to his chest, to his—his full pair of breasts, were perched two babies that were…suckling from James’ nipples.

Heather felt her jaw drop.

“Mom…dad,” said James, his words breathless and face flushed. “I um…I had…”

Heather decided to hold off on the exciting news of her pregnancy.

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Pep Rally VI 2020-01-31T02:59:31+00:00

Note: This is a story-prompt for varvi.

$20 Patreon Directory

Previous

-

The slumber party was turning out to be a disaster.

Sam made several more efforts to apologize to her friends, but all that she managed was, “moooo.” It was as though language had slipped away from her. She just hoped they all understood the remorsefulness of her tone.

While Tammy was still astonished, Jessica seemed more amused about the events. Sam spent a good deal of the evening trying to thoroughly milk herself in the bathroom, but there was just so much output. She only had one pump, and had to repetitively figure out whether to prioritize her four breasts or her udder, all of which were dripping milk.

She resigned herself after a hour and returned to Tammy’s bedroom where she sunk down in a pile of soft, fluffy pillows and a growing puddle of her warm milk.

She awoke early, too early. It was still dim outside the windows. Sam opened her bleary eyes, taking in the small commotion around the room. She managed to roll herself to an upright position, and arduously crawled (belly dragging on) towards the small clutter of her friends circled around something.

Sam peeked through the hedge of bodies, a “Mooo!” of shock escaping her throat.

Penny was curled on the carpet, her eyelashes looking longer, and eyes evidently larger and wider as she blinked up at them. Her nose had gotten flatter and wider, and had taken on a pinkish hue. And her previously-flat chest had swelled up with plump C-cups overnight. Nestled beneath them, the curve of her formerly-flat stomach was bulging prominently against her pajama top.

-

Sam went to see her doctor later that day, still wrought with guilt over Penny’s new, inconvenient developments. By the time of her appointment, she still hadn’t been able to utter a human word. Her one comfort was that Scott arrived to accompany her. When he “mooo”ed at her in greeting, she was startled, but also, somehow, she understood.

Dr. Richards was a genial man. He laughed of Sam’s failed attempt to communicate. “Let’s get you examined.”

He took her weight, measurements, did a sonogram, and finally, a pelvic examine. His concerned frown made her heart race.

“Samantha, I don’t want you to be concerned, but you are extremely overdue. You should have gone into labor weeks ago.”

Sam blinked up at him. “Moo,” she said in alarm.

Scott comfortingly rubbed her back. “Mmm,” he consoled.

“At this point, you don’t have many options in terms of triggering labor. I doubt medication will have any effect. The best method for women in your condition is penetrative sex.”

Sam rubbed her churning gut. She looked at Scott who looked at her. They nodded.

“Moo,” said Sam. She would give it a shot.

“And soon,” Richards ordered, as he and Scott helped her to stand, her belly jutting from her like a bolder.

“Mmmm,” she responded, a little embarrassed by the prescription. She couldn’t help worrying about her babies, and the awkwardness that sex would entail in her advanced state.

-

That evening, they gave it a tey.

It was true that Scott had changed substantially. He was stronger and broader, and his dick had grown by inches and thickened as well.

The sight of it made her shiver slightly. He helped her onto the bed, and she grunted beneath the weight of her huge mass pinning her down. He adjusted her, arranging pillows around her, but no position was perfect. Her nipples and teats were stiff and achy, and just the sight of Scott undressing made them squirt with her shuddering breaths.

Scott went slow and careful, but he gained vigor as things progressed. She hadn’t anticipated that it would be so—enjoyable, her skin tingling, stomach clenching, udder aching almost pleasantly as it was repetitively compressed by Scott’s thrusts, the mound bobbing between them, and milk splashing forward, making a mess.

She groaned as her belly heaved up and down, breasts wiggling, as she grimaced and struggled to prolong things, because Scott still hadn’t triggered labor, but he was already so, so deep.

The tension and pressure continued to cumulate until she couldn’t hold on any longer. Scott gave a rough thrust that left her humming a groan, body arching, heat pooling, and…liquid splashing on the mattress beneath them.

It took a while to come down, Sam gasping for breath, mooing appreciatively, as Scott sunk, gently, against her mound, stroking it idly.

“Mooo,” Scott told her. Her water had broken.

“Mmmm,” Sam acknowledged.

They gave each other a meaningful look, then Scott got up to call the doctor.

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February Story Poll 2020-01-30T08:57:23+00:00

I still have some things to post for January, but please choose the stories you would like for me toupdate in February. Thetop three choices will haveguaranteedupdates. The rest will be chosen by me. Poll will remain open for 48 hours.

Note: In event of a tie, the story that has been waiting the longer time for an update will be the one which is chosen.

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Comments (5)
user avatar
User #12758317 - 31 Jan 20 20:14
Farm boy is a very, very intriguing story. I'd love to see that story continued.
user avatar
Kompera - 31 Jan 20 23:46
Haha, I'm surprised by how popular that one's getting.
user avatar
User #2471044 - 30 Jan 20 20:52
Man I really want to see what happens next in the Maid.
user avatar
User #2714932 - 31 Jan 20 23:46
Praying for Neighbors. It needs all the chapters.
user avatar
Kompera - 31 Jan 20 23:59
😂😂
Farm Boy, Part 6 2020-01-30T08:51:54+00:00

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Summary: A high school senior, Max noticed that his older brother has been dipping into the chemical on his parents' farm, and has been gaining a lot of weight. A bit disgusted, a bit curious, Fred tries the chemical hormones himself, and experiences the best high of his life. He quickly introduces the chemical to his two best friends, and the three progressively get addicted, all while experiencing incidental changes, such as butt growth, breast development, belly expansion, in addition to other, stranger, things. Contains: Male: pregnancy, breast expansion, multiple breasts, breast-belly, butt expansion, weight gain, and more. Also, issues of drug addiction.

Previous Chapter

-

James came over just as they were sobering up from their latest high.

He was wearing a pair of tight black leggings with a huge pair of basketball shorts atop them, but his ass was still stretching the material of the shorts to drastic extremes, the material riding up his crack, as his ass-cheeks bobbed, actually bobbed behind him.

Max found himself staring, sort of entranced by the rocking and swaying masses, big as fucking basketballs behind James’ back.

Scott was sprawled on his bed, somewhat more relaxed, though he still tensed up and twitched every now and then.

Max finally tore his gaze away from James’ ass. “This stuff is really fucking with our bodies,” he heard himself blurt. “I mean—my hormones—they’re out of wack. Really—weird shit keeps happening.” He drew a deep breath. “I’m gonna try to quit.”

His friends gave him blank, dubious stares.

James repeatedly reached into his hair, rubbing, scratching, his face screwed up in uncertainty.

-

Max’s tits were growing.

All four of them.

The lower pair was progressing much more rapidly than the upper pair, but each of the four mounds was undeniably getting fatter and fatter.

He was seriously jonesing. He tried to distract himself with school work and video games. He often went to Scott’s house, where Scott was uncomfortable, irritable, and in a small amount of pain.

Scott would fumble against his mass. He looked ludicrous and deformed. His belly was practically as big as he was, and he could hardly get up, not without the aid of Max and James supporting either side of him. He had taken sick leave from school.

Scott’s pain wasn’t constant. His belly tensed every so often, causing Scott to grimace and groan and clutch it, before the episode passed and he was panting, “I’m fine, I’m fine,” even though the claim was ludicrous.

He was blowing up, mutinous and uncomfortable, and somehow resistant to his own body. He just said he was okay. And he wanted to get high, again and again, as though to subdue the discomfort. He outright refused to see a doctor. Then one day, as he tried to heave himself up, he collapsed to the floor and lay there moaning and clutching what he could of his mass with his hands.

Scott’s belly jerked, and he released a scream. Max was frozen in shock as Scott floundered on the floor.

James must have been more lucid than he was, because he heaved his ass out of his chair with some effort. “Call an ambulance!” he said, hurrying to Scott’s side, crouching down, and holding Scott’s shoulder.

Scott was writhing, his gargantuan belly jerking and heaving forcefully like a rocking boulder. It genuinely looked like it was about to burst, and his pants—the back of his pants seemed to be tenting out for some reason.

Snapping out of his reverie, Max managed to get on the phone despite his pounding head and excessive sweating. Through the withdrawal, he somehow stammered his way through his friend’s odd predicament.

Paramedics arrived in moments, and Scott—well, he—delivered.

-

The doctors were mystified. So was the media. So was Scott.

Experts were flown in from all over the world. Scott was the headliner of every news report. A mousy adolescent boy had given birth to triplets. It was outrageous and baffling, and Max…was rather queasy.

He hadn’t seen Scott in days, not since he had been carted off to the hospital and become famous (or infamous). Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Max saw him whenever he turned on his TV, Scott looking weary and pale, and overwhelmed.

It was a lot to take in. So much so that Max found himself hitting the hormones again.

The drug had somehow changed Scott, at a biological, anatomical, physiological level. The thought was terrifying and nausea-inducing. The drug had somehow allowed for Scott to become pregnant.

James seemed almost as stunned as Max was. He sat and stared off, persistently scratching at the top of his head, where the bone spur things were worsening. “This stuff is really messed up,” James mentioned one day.

“Yeah…” Max agreed. Daily, he tried to resist the drug, and failed. It was the only thing that felt remotely right anymore.

He continued to try to hide his growing breasts from his family, but his efforts increased in futility alongside his size. It got to the point that he couldn’t be bothered to care much anymore. He impatiently jammed his tits into tank tops that steadily shrank against his girth. Half the school already ostracized him, the other half looking at him like the freak he was. But Max didn’t care about that either. All that ever mattered was his next high.

-

It was an entire month since his departure that Scott showed up again.

He was no longer towing an enormous globe of straining flesh, but looked very fat around the middle, rounded, but softer.

His belly bobbed and swayed somewhat. Reliably, the rest of him was still small and thin.

Scott looked flustered, awkward, and weary. He was inexpertly clutching a baby with one of his arms.

The baby gave one look at Max and released a high-pitched wail. Max cursed as his upper breasts immediately started squirting, soaking through his shirt. It was bizarre, like the baby had activated something in his anatomy.

“Get that thing away from me!” Max snapped, hugging his chest. Even his hidden lower nipples were aching.

Scott threw him a frown. James just regarded Scott in shock.

By that point, James’ bone spurs seemed more like two little horns protruding from the top of his head. “What are you doing here?” James ogled Scott as though he was an alien.

Scott hesitated, flushing worse. “I—I’ve just been really overwhelmed lately,” he said, looking helpless. “I thought we could just hang out. It’s been a lot of stress.”

“Why did you bring…that?” James asked, nodding to the baby.

Scott frowned. “My mom’s been on my ass about stepping up. Being a parent. Fuck off,” he said, unceremoniously heaving the baby up from where it had been sliding down his hip. “So what are you guys up to?” His eyes trailed about the room, as though he was looking for something.

Max fidgeted in his wet shirt.

His upper breasts had become E-cups by then, and served as a sort of overhang to the developing lower pair. They were B-cups, but Max didn’t think anyone had noticed them yet. He folded his arms over his lower mounds. He wanted to change into a dry shirt, though it would be pointless. The baby was still gabbing and he was still leaking. “Can you shut it up?”

“Dude, that’s my baby,” said Scott wearily. “And it’s a she.

And with that, Scott jerked down the collar of his shirt, and stuffed the baby into his chest. It was just weird. Max couldn’t help gawking. He knew he had tits of his own—huge ones at that—but it was just different, seeing his friend with breasts, exposed ones, that were being employed in the way that breasts were…designed to.

They were round and full, but not that impressive. C-cups at best. Max tore his gaze away as the sound of the baby suckling filtered through the room, Scott grimacing every once in a while.

“It sucks,” Scott supplied, though no one had asked. “Not only did I have to push them out of my…er…but now I’m their twenty-four hour buffet. I hate nursing. Mom says I have to.”

The silence went on, Max and James left speechless by the awkward train of the discussion.

“So…do you have any powder?” Scott asked.

Max snapped out of his reverie. “You’re kidding, right?”

Scott looked desperate, almost pained. “I’m not,” he said.

Max’s attention shifted back to the newborn suckling on Scott’s chest. “Should you really be taking drugs while you’re…”

“How am I supposed to know?” said Scott impatiently. He rubbed his face with his free hand. “Does it look like I care?”

“Man, isn’t the hormone what got you into this mess?” said James uneasily.

“Are you going to give me some or not?” said Scott.

The behavior was so uncharacteristic for his usually meek and mild-mannered friend, that Max was rendered mute again.

But after a moment, James lightly shook his head. He retrieved a baggy of the hormone from the desk on the far side of the room and handed it over to Scott.

“Thanks,” said Scott faintly as he accepted the bag. He was practically salivating as he opened it.

He took a sniff, and momentarily froze, his eyes closing as a long hum escaped his throat. He stood there like that for at least a full moment, before gingerly making his way towards the bed, still clutching the infant to his chest. He sat down heavily, and reclined, and sort of just zoned out as he stared at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes, while remaining distinctly mindful of the baby against him.

After that, things went back to normal. Or as normal as things could be after a teenage boy popped out three children.

Scott seemed to mostly dump the infants on his parents. Sometimes he would attend to his breasts with an electric pump, the sight of which made Max dizzy. But he mostly hung out with Max and James in the evenings, and they spoke lethargically of dubious plans to leave their small town someday. Possibly sooner than later.

Max had somehow gotten into college. He wondered if his strong grades for the first half of the school year had counterbalanced his apathy in the latter half.

People were talking about orientations and ISBN numbers, and all he could think about was how his four tits were getting bigger and bigger, the lower ones pushing, heaving the other ones upwards, and it was like some terrible nightmare that his freakish anomaly would soon be blatant on his chest.

In a weird way, he was jealous of Scott. Scott had effectively shat out his abnormalities in the form of three large babies. Even James seemed to have it better that Max. Yes, James’ ass cheeks were fucking massive, but it wasn’t as though he had four of them. Shit, that would be trippy.

Max felt as though he spent a lot of his time tugging on his shirt hems as his tops were drawn higher and tighter. His upper breasts were unnaturally perky, sticking up uncomfortably atop the shelf that the lower ones created.

Max’s upper breasts were blatant and huge, and he no longer made any efforts to hide them, because it was absolutely futile to try to disguise volleyball’s sticking out from one’s torso. His lower breasts had to be D-cups by then, and were undeniably starting to peek out beneath.

His parents just seemed numb, disturbed, mute. Astonishingly, they hadn’t said anything. But really, what could they? They were awkward and mortified and could hardly even look at him anymore. Their son was transforming, and they were helpless to stop it.

One morning, his mother did finally address it.

“What’s going on with you?” she said, gazing at him, then back down at her scrambled eggs. “Have you just been…um…do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Max weakly responded. “I mean I just…I don’t really know what’s going on.” His face was hot, and he was so embarrassed, he sort of wanted to die.

But somehow he had opened the flood gates, literally. Tears flooded down his mother’s face, which just made everything so much worse. He failed to evade her as she hugged him, hugged into his breasts, and it was as uncomfortable as it was stimulating, the whole thing altogether horrifying. He patted her arm as he grimaced and struggled for dear life not to start squirting milk, thus exacerbating everything (including his humiliation).

After that, his parents went into his options, as he sat and vacantly nodded in his flustered, tender state. They started consulting specialists. Apparently they couldn’t afford treatment for a potential hormone imbalance or his “cosmetic deformity” as it was not considered medically necessary by his insurance. They promised they would start saving for breast reduction surgery. Apparently they hadn’t noticed the lower pair yet. But then, Max spent most of his time with his arms folded against them.

Though Max nodded and indulged them with short, auspicious responses, as he retired to his room that evening, he laid down, feeling very doubtful that any treatment would be helpful. Especially considering fact that he was still using.

He took his late-night hit of the hormone and dozed away.

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Comments (3)
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User #134276 - 25 Feb 20 03:22
Can’t wait for more!
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User #11418356 - 3 Apr 20 17:10
Loving this series so far, reminds me a lot of the old Manboobs series.
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Kompera - 7 Apr 20 07:17
Yeah, it does have that feel! Glad you're enjoying :)
Slime, Part 2 2020-01-28T03:25:59+00:00

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Summary: Cona finds herself pregnant with a strange, alien slime, and starts giving birth to slime babies. Contains: Female: belly expansion, breast expansion, butt expansion, alien impregnation, unbirthing, and more.

Previous Chapter

-

One morning, Eve awoke to find the slime in bed with her.

She was startled, and tensed for a moment, but slowly thereafter relaxed. The slime was comfortable with her. She had learned that this was the key to its successful development in contrast to the sample at the lab. The slime seemed to thrive on warmth, affection, freedom, and a lack of the clinical cruelty that was commonly found in a scientific environment.

It lay there, misshapen in its relaxed state, heaving gently, having settled its football-size default. Eve wondered if it could actually rest, or if it was simply perching there, observing her. It made no physical contact with her, and seemed to perk slightly as she sat up.

Eve was hardly focused at work anymore. She was barely restraining herself from quitting the job. It just seemed like a monumental waste of her time. She wanted to be at home, learning as much as she could about the slime.

She continued to wake up with the slime beside her every few days. It seemed to be creeping tentatively closer, until one day it was up against her, cuddled beside her waist. Another morning, she was both amused and baffled upon waking to realize that the slime was cushioning her head, serving as a perfect pillow that cradled her head softly.

Finally, Eve awoke to find the slime atop of her. It sat on her waist, a warm weight against her. Fondly shaking her head, Eve lightly pushed it off before she got up and went about her day.

It became a normal occurrence, the slime draped over her in some way. If she was lying on her side, it would be stretched over her horizontally. If she was lying on her stomach, it would be a lump on her back.

Then one day, she was surprised when she awoke to find her night-dress stretched out over her stomach, resembling a pregnancy.

She could feel the slime beneath it, against her skin, cool and warm simultaneously, heaving as her nightdress alternately stretched and loosened. Eve shifted and managed to lift her night dress up. She shooed the slime away, feeling weirdly unsettled.

It was almost like a pet at that point. To her disappointment, it didn’t seem they were making much more progress. There was no way to really test the slime’s capabilities without truly—well, experimenting on it. But judging on the slime sample at the lab, that could prove counterproductive.

She decided to try to train it, as one might a dog, in an effort to gauge its awareness and intellect.

But the slime didn’t heed her commands. She had nothing with which to reward it, as it didn’t seem to crave for anything, not food, not toys or positive affirmation. Instead it lurched and swayed and observed her almost warily. As though it could see through her efforts and was not impressed.

But she was sure she was just imagining it.

And then came the day that everything twisted horrifyingly. She awoke gradually in discomfort and…pleasure. Something was inside of her, lurching and stretching as she unconsciously shuddered, hips twitching as sparks of pleasure shot from her groin to her stomach.

She was seeping. And yet the discomfort was growing, her insides churning and stretching as she squirmed feebly against her sheets.

Finally, she opened her eyes. Gasping, Eve ripped off her sheets. Her other fumbling hand reached out to the lamp on her bedside table, flicking it on. A synthetic light illuminated the darkness, and there was the slime, gleaming, pulsing, and shoving partway through her opening.

Eve screamed.

The slime jerked, and her insides seemed to clench in on it, because it broke off, one half rolling back onto the mattress between her thighs, as the other half shoved deeper through her opening, causing her to moan and buck as her nerve endings were strummed, her insides squeezing, and the amorphous mass shooting up into her womb.

“Fuhhhh…” she wheezed, rolling off the bed, finding herself on her hands and knees on the carpet, her face dripping sweat. Her stomach rocked, heaved, and lurched. Panting, she looked down at it, felt it with one of her hands. Her abdomen had become a rounded bump, skin rising and falling, and sometimes pushing out arbitrarily.

“What did you…ohhh godddd…get out,” she groaned, as she felt it began to shoot back down towards her opening. She unconsciously clenched, sucked it back in, because her thighs were back to quavering, arms threatening to buckle beneath her.

Eve managed to crawl across the room. She turned on the ceiling lights, making everything bright and open. The windows were dark, the world outside still and in silence. It was night time, or early morning. She spotted the portion of the slime that wasn’t inside her, that was still at the foot of her breath, almost slumped in a remarkable gesture of shame, or perhaps an indication of her own insanity.

Her formally flat torso was bloated round, the insides gradually relaxing. She looked as though she had gained fifteen pounds or was five months pregnant.

She was baffled as to why it had decided to go inside of her. Would it have explored any orifice, like her ear or her nostril, killing her instantly? Or her mouth. Or anus? She wrinkled her nose. Though it wasn’t much worse than the slime actually pushing its way into her vagina. Was the decision entirely random? Or was this its nature? What was its purpose?

She was also concerned about how dangerous this condition was. She had yet to discover how strong the slime was, but was already aware that it could change its size at will, and quite substantially. Would it get stuck and impatient enough to burst right out of her? Was it toxic, or would her immune system see it as outside bacteria, and begin an aggressive assault? There was no way this could be remotely healthy. Yet if she sought out medical treatment, she would open up the door to exposing everything the government had been keeping secret for the past several decades. The world would be thrown into chaos. They weren’t ready for the knowledge of life on other planets.

Eve stumbled to her dresser, grabbing up her cellphone. She had typed in the phone number for the head of her lab, and had almost pressed the SEND button when she froze.

She could, of course, reach out to her colleagues for aid. But she was a liability. Their only obligation to keep her alive was a moral one, and morality tended not to thrive much in the biology field of science.

Eve slowly lowered the phone. She was terrified. She didn’t want to trigger anything that might cause injury, but this was her best option at the moment.

So she squatted down. She called to it. “Hey…” she sang, attempting to sound encouraging rather than frightened. “Hey…come out…” She trailed her fingers to her opening, dipping them between her labia. She grimaced as she felt some slime residue. She tried pushing with her gut, encouraging it to shift downwards.

The slime mound on the bed trailed over to her. The slime inside her loins, however, remained motionless.

-

Eve was unnerved. In fact, her uneasiness didn’t lift in the following days that the slime continued to occupy her womb. If anyone at work noticed her abrupt weight gain, no one mentioned it, and Eve found herself touching her stomach often, curiously, uneasily, sometimes hoping to urge, coax, and encourage it. Sometimes it was just out of habit, her hands drawn to the foreign, new part of her.

At times, she would apply light pressure, urging the slime down, pushing lightly. She spent a lot of time contorted or squatted, or even sitting on the toilet, spreading herself and clenching her muscles to push. She became yet more distracted at work, in addition to taking frequent breaks, and her colleagues were decidedly unimpressed with her behavior.

She could hardly care. She was horrified; on the verge of a breakdown.

Until one morning, more than a week following the slime’s invasion of her, she awoke to find it arbitrarily outside of her—well, at least partly. It was hanging out of her opening, long and thick, almost resembling a—well, a dildo, of all things. Impulsively, she reached down and grabbed it, intending to pull it the rest of the way out. But her fingers simply sunk into the squishy mass, and she was not sure that it had always been so soft. Her eyes widened as she realized it could change its firmness at will.

As if to confirm this, the slime hardened, stiffened, causing her to gasp and shudder, unconsciously arching her back off the bed, eyes rolling up. “F-fuck,” she managed, as the slime lurched deep, too deep, causing an inhuman squeak to escape her throat. “N-no—d-don’—” The slime pulled back, her sweet pet was pumping into her, and it was all too outlandish. She could see the other potion in her peripheral vision, tentatively approaching, abashed as it had become. It crawled up, between her thighs, and before she could react, it leaned down and joined its other half, reuniting, and as a whole becoming thicker, deeper, as the fat external base of it squashed between her jerking thighs. “Ngghhhh…yess…oh god,” she groaned. “Ahhh…ahhhh…keep—goinggg…”

When it was over, she laid there, a boneless, disheveled mess. The slime had come fully out, and was perched beside her, gently prodding, as she stared at the ceiling in astonishment, and began to wonder if she was the one being experimented on.

After that, she was cagey towards it. For the next few weeks, she had pulled back on interaction and affection, hoping not to encourage it.

The slime reacted, if just by becoming more withdraw, almost skittish at times. Eve didn’t know what to do about it anymore. She was disturbed by the recent events. For the first time since her discovery of the slime, she wanted out. It was too unpredictable and volatile. It was potentially dangerous. Eve began to contemplate ways of getting rid of her sample. She could hardly sleep for fear of it deciding to explore her again. She tried to devise ways to contain the slime so that she could control it more scrupulously.

Her stomach had gone back to normal, firm and flat, but strangely vacant.

The slime continued to be withdraw and cautious towards her, having even shrunken down to the size of a softball. It remained on the floor, at the edges of the spaces she occupied, observing her, as though trying not to offend or antagonize.

It became less active, sometimes spending whole days plopped in one place. It started to liquefy, shrinking into a puddle.

And she couldn’t help reaching out to it, cooing gently, coaxing it back towards its energetic state. It was a waste, she thought, to let it become inactive again. So she began to design a program to 3D-print an airtight container similar to the one at the lab.

It took a couple of weeks, and she had almost finished the program, when she awoke one morning with the slime against her yet again.

She slowly relaxed from her startled state. The slime was simply perched atop her abdomen. And it had swelled. She lifted her night dress and was reluctantly amused by the sight. The slime had molded itself against her stomach, becoming an extension of her while taking the perfect shape of a pregnant belly.

“Very funny,” Eve scolded it gently. She struggled up onto her elbows against the surprisingly firm weight of it. “Now get off.”

But the slime did not react or move. Eve sighed and heaved herself upright, the weight of the mound shifting forward and against her lap. The slime remained firm, compact, and perfect in its shape, even having developed a belly button on the face. If it was real, she would have looked seven months pregnant. Sam cupped it lightly with her hand. It almost felt like it was a part of her.

“I have to get ready for work,” she chided it. “Come on. Get off.”

But the slime did not respond.

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Comments (6)
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User #3283871 - 5 Feb 20 01:53
I love the lighter tone of this one, it's refreshing
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Kompera - 14 Feb 20 01:39
Haha, thanks. Hopefully I can maintain it :D
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User #2714932 - 29 Jan 20 02:21
Its so good! Gawd!
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Kompera - 30 Jan 20 03:40
Haha, thank you :D
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User #230963 - 28 Jan 20 06:49
Can't wait to see where this goes!
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Kompera - 30 Jan 20 03:40
Thanks :D
Campus, Part 3 - Male Version 2020-01-18T05:56:25+00:00

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Note: This is a male version of Campus.

Summary: When Simon leaves home for the first time and starts college, he immediately notices that his campus has a shockingly high fertility rate, among other things. Contains: Male & Female: belly expansion, breast expansion, butt expansion, pregnancy, weight gain, birth.

Previous Chapter

-

Simon just wanted it to be over with.

Rapid pregnancy proved an intense sensation. He found himself hot and trembling, and sweating profusely at any time of the day. His insides twitched, his loins twinging his at the growing pressure against his groin.

Simon’s professors, disturbingly enough, seemed impressed by his exacerbating condition. They gave him loads of extra points, for things as arbitrary as raising his hand, or contributing an answer even if it turned out being inaccurate. They treated him as though he wasn’t like all the other fatigued, mediocre, college students.

“You’re coming along,” said Professor Wells as Simon was leaving History class one afternoon.

Simon shot him a look of horror, before he shuffled off to his Physical Education period.

He was disturbed to find that PE that day was little more than a birthing class. Throughout the period, students rocked and contorted themselves in various obscene ways. Their instructor claimed that the so-called “stretches” were meant to aid posture and alleviate pressure on the lower back. Everyone continued to maneuver around the matter of mass fertility on campus. It was like they were under threat or contract, and were obligated to reference pregnancy as “bloating,” “pressure,” or “indigestion,” even when it was happening to themselves.

Simon was wearing a large T-shirt he had stolen from the lost and found, with sweatpants beneath. The neckline consistently sank low, and displayed the mortifying swell of his breasts. Often he fidgeted and adjusted it, trying to keep himself as concealed as possible. He was huge and heavy—he looked at term at least. He looked as though he could drop at any moment.

Simon sat uncomfortably on the gym floor, legs spread to cradle his swollen belly, and palms pressed to the ground behind him to keep him balanced.

Every so often he would shift his tense back. He looked about at the students around him, wondering of their ridiculous contortions could have been at all comfortable. The instructor, Mr. Moore, walked over.

“Simon, I don’t see you trying the poses,” he admonished.

Simon grimaced slightly, and shifted his legs as though to bend into a pose, hoping Mr. Moore would move on to other students, yet he continued to stand there, appraising him. With a long-suffering moue, Simon slowly drew his knees up and arched his back, before gasping at the weight this shoved down on his pelvis, his dick hardening and thighs quivering.

“Excellent form,” said Moore. He leaned down and pushed Simon’s knees even higher.

Simon groaned at the increasing pressure, his ass spreading, hole opening—he felt as though he could just push and—

“Very good,” Moore went on. “You should be feeling the pressure shift. It will encourage it to drop when the time comes.”

Simon was aghast. He watched Moore walk off, and gingerly straightened his legs, panting. Oh god, he thought, as he cupped his belly. This was really happening.

Later that afternoon, Simon practically staggered back to his dorm. The abdominal pressure had been bad since gym class, and he wanted nothing more than to collapse on his bed.

“You okay?” said Paul, poking his head up. He was sprawled across the living room couch.

Ignoring him, Simon wobbled to his room. He climbed onto his bed on all fours, his body so tense and uncomfortable, he didn’t think he could lie down. “Unnghhh…” he groaned, one-handedly gripping his belly, rubbing it hard. Maybe those stupid poses had triggered him. Maybe he was finally going to birth this thing. Simon huffed a laugh at the irony of his condition when he hadn’t had sex in the past year. His laugh was cut short by a groan as the pressure gripped and squeezed him till he couldn’t breathe. It was really happening.

He clutched his belly as it tightened, pushing out, inching forward, as his shirt stretched, his belly button visibly swelling against the material. “Oh god, oh god…” he grunted out. He was in labor. He moaned as the familiar pressure shoved down on his hips. He bore down, releasing a strangled noise, face twisted in discomfort.

But then it stopped. The contraction—everything had abruptly ceased. Gasping for breath, Simon looked down at himself. He heard his bedroom door open behind him.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” Paul waddled over and rubbed Simon’s back.

Simon took a few moments for his breathing to even out. “I—I’m not—what happened?” he stammered.

“I’m not sure,” said Paul. “Indigestion?”

Simon stared at him. He redirected his attention back to his own stomach. It had really felt like a contraction. Or maybe it had been a fake one. One of those breckon hits, or whatever they were called. But something had…undeniably happened. He stared at the way the shirt stretched against his form. “Help me up.”

Paul obliged, though it hardly counted as help. Paul wasn’t much use, round as he was himself. But Simon managed to stand, his dorm-mate holding his shoulder.

Simon waddled to the full-length mirror and flinched at his own reflection. His belly was undeniably larger. He looked due with twins. He turned to his side and examined the way his top stretched tautly against him where it had previously held him more loosely. He patted his hands along the swollen mass, almost certain it couldn’t truly be attached to him. He watched his plump breasts heave up and down. He felt so stunned and horrified, he didn’t know how to react.

“Are you okay?” Paul repeated.

“I think I have to lie down.”

He got Paul to leave and managed to strip off the shirt and replace it with a stretchy tank top that hardly pulled over his mound, his round breasts bulging heavily against the low neckline. He shoved off his sweatpants, left only in a pair of briefs stretched tightly against his newly plump hips and swollen posterior, the material sinking deep into the crack between the globes of his backside.

He lay on his side and fidgeted most of the night, between the tight pressing throbbing in his stomach, and the heated pulse that laid heavily on his groin. His nipples stung, and his breasts felt confined even though he wasn’t wearing anything to bind them. His innards lurched continuously, and he palmed at the sensation, as though in reprove, though it did little to alleviate the ceaseless discomfort.

Soon he must have dozed off, because he felt a stranger against his back, spooning him, while holding him securely, calloused hands on his belly. Someone was inside of him, long, thick, and throbbing, stretching him delightfully as they rocked together.

Soon there was pulsing inside, seed filling him to the brim with warmth, but it didn’t stop. He filled more and more till his belly tightened and swelled. “No…” he grunted, clutching his girth as if to hold in the growth. “Stop…nghhh…too much—”

Simon gasped awake. He was sprawled back in bed, his belly bobbing atop him, the great weight pinning him against the mattress.

Groaning, he turned to his side, panting and hugging his mound, curling around it. After several moments, he managed to heave himself up and turn on the lights, before wobbling to the mirror, almost compulsively, where he examined himself. Had he gotten larger? It was hard to tell.

There was a clattering of dishes coming from the kitchen. After another moment of scrutinizing his reflection, Simon forced himself to tear his gaze away. Licking his dry lips, he decided that he could do with a glass of water. He was up anyway. Looking down at his state of undress, Simon waddled to the dresser.

He had a concerning shortage of bottoms that could accommodate him, but he procured a pair of basketball shorts, which stretched so tightly against his ass, they were on the brink of tearing, and the coverage was laughable. His outfits seemed to be morphing into less-modest versions of themselves. Lightly shaking his head, he waddled to the door. He just wished he could get this over with. Then again, it couldn’t be too much longer for him. He was getting huge.

Paul was awake, and parked in front of the largest cheesecake Simon had ever seen. It was at least six inches high, and took up most of the kitchen table. It had syrup-drenched strawberries on top, and what looked to be buttercream icing.

Paul looked up, and reddened when he saw that Simon had caught what he was up to. “Couldn’t sleep.” Paul shrugged. “Can I interest you in a midnight snack?”

Simon hesitated. His belly gurgled in keen agreement. It wasn’t as though he had his weight to worry about, after all. Simon snorted. He grabbed himself a plate. “Sure.”

Simon and Paul spent the next few hours talking about how delicious the cake was, which seemed to be the only topic they seemed to agree on. Paul had three slices, and Simon had at least seven—he had lost count. While he expressed astonishment about his own appetite, Paul just smiled at him in amusement. By dawn, most of the cake was gone, and the two boys waddled back to their respective rooms, Simon’s stomach gurgling, but now from discomfort.

-

He had overdone things.

When Simon had awoken again, it was to a great deal of discomfort.

At present, he stood in his bedroom, leaned back against the wall, his face flushed red and palms on his gut as those pulses of warmth throbbed through his body. There was that squeezing sensation, and he could feel his belly pushing against his hands. “Easy…easy…” he hissed out, as the pressure built, and his belly continued to inch forward. A twinge of electricity shot to his groin, causing his hips to shudder, dick prodding the underside of the mound. “Oh!” he yelped as he experienced a jerk of growth that made his back spasm, his knees nearly buckling beneath him. “Mmghhh…” His skin prickled as it tightened gently this time. Finally, it seemed to stop. Simon waited a few moments just to be certain, breasts jiggling as he panted. He clutched his abdomen the best he could.

“Oh god…” he groaned, wondering if this was to become a regularity. He looked overdue with triplets by then, his back aching, and girth heavier than ever.

He wanted to go back to bed, but he didn’t want to miss his classes. Good grades were the least he could get out of this disturbing experience. Wearily, Simon got dressed.

He squeezed his ass into some running pants. They were stretched dangerously, but it would have to suffice. He was short on clothes at the moment.

He pulled on a massive button-down he was grateful to have purchased at the campus shop two days before. It was a tight fit, but it at least buttoned. Navigating his feet into a pair of sneakers, Simon waddled out of his room, trying to adjust to his shifting center of gravity as he did.

To his horror, Paul had made breakfast. A large one at that.

“I ordered in,” Paul corrected, as though reading Simon’s thoughts. Paul gave a sheepish smile. “We had such a great time bonding last night, I just thought…” he trailed off, nodding to the mountains of eggs slathered in gooey cheese, butter-drenched bagels, plump oil-seeping sausages, crispy bacon, syrup-drenched french toast, chocolate chip pancakes, muffins of every variety, greasy home fries, and various other dishes better suited for a banquet than two college-aged guys.

Simon tried to aim himself for the door. “I really have to go—” But his belly gave a mighty rumble. He feebly grasped for the doorknob. His mouth watered. The aroma was intoxicating. Simon gulped. “Just one bite,” he amended.

Smiling cheekily, Paul lifted a piece of bacon and bit off a piece. “One bite,” he agreed.

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Clause II, Part 2 - Female Version 2020-01-18T02:07:08+00:00

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Note: This is a female version of Clause II.

Additionally, this story has no prequel (ie, there is no 'Clause I.') The series starts with this story. Apologies for any confusion.

Summary: To meet the requirements of a will and inherit her family fortune, a train-wreck of a woman is forced to become a pregnant BBW with the help of a quirky doctor. Contains: Female: pregnancy, belly expansion, breast expansion, butt expansion, weight gain.

Previous Chapter

-

Over the next week and a half, Diana noticed her chest was getting somewhat softer, which made her uneasy, but it had to be a sign that things were going in the right direction.

When Diana treated some of her friends to free entry of her nightclub one evening, she found that no one took notice of anything different about her. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a huge change after all. Besides, she could hide a small pregnancy bump with baggy clothing. She was a petite girl, and would have a petite baby, that would be born and sent off to a new family before anyone even noticed there was something different about her.

It took her some time, but Diana found a girl with plump lips and huge tits, and she spent most of the night dancing with her. She made the mistake of checking out a woman with the most delectable ass she had ever seen, only to find that her dancing partner had disappeared, probably swept up by some guy.

Diana was bisexual, though she had always had preference for women. Frowning in the direction of her failed conquest, Diana turned and joined her friends at the bar, where she discreetly drank soda instead of beer. She watched as Ted started playfully jabbing Rob’s stomach with light punches, and excused herself to the bathroom.

Diana looked herself over in the mirror. Her stomach was barely any different, physically, but it felt heavier if that made any sense. As though there was some uncomfortable pressure in it, and it was increasing every day.

Though usually lean, her stomach was beginning to bulge out, just the slightest, over the waist band of her jeans. It could have been the hormones or something. Diana found it best not to form any expectations.

-

“It’s confirmed,” said Dr. Reed elatedly at Diana’s four-week appointment. “You’re with child. Oh my, this is a bit overwhelming.”

“Oh,” said Diana, a little stunned. Maybe a small part of her had never thought it would work. “Well, I figured,” she added nonchalantly, not knowing whether to feel relieved or horrified.

“Congratulations!” Reed gave her an awkward little hug.

“Thanks,” said Diana. “Uh, you too.”

“Oh thank you, thanks so much.” Dr. Reed began to bustle about, prepping some injections. There was a broad smile plastered to her face. “Anything to report, by the way?”

“Sorry?”

“Any changes?”

Diana was still trying to process the news of her pregnancy. Now she felt embarrassed. “I noticed my chest seems a little…fuller, I guess.”

“A good sign. You should expect a lot more changes in the coming weeks.”

Diana looked down at herself. “Great,” she said dryly.

-

Reed wasn’t lying. Over the next few weeks, Diana’s chest grew softer, plumpening until she had small B-cups on her usually-flat chest. Her stomach seemed to be getting fuller every day, now beginning to visibly protrude in her tops. And Diana had been ignoring it for a while, but she began to notice that her panties were starting to fit her more tightly that usual. Her ass was getting bigger. Rounder. It wasn’t too significant. It just looked like she had done a few too many squats or something. She thought of the girls at the gym who dedicated all their time to pumping up their asses, and her hand slid down between her legs.

But at the last minute, Diana withdrew her hand, legs quavering. Suddenly wanting to use her cunt before she got too fat to pull, she grabbed her jacket off the back of her desk chair and headed out to the club.

-

Only a few hours later, she and Veronica were stumbling back into her apartment, kissing.

Diana didn’t usually fuck around with the same person twice, but she’s decided to make the exception with Veronica that night. Diana had gotten tired of trying to woo random girls as she danced with them, her chest aching as it jiggled with her movements. On top of that, she had started getting a little winded and nauseous.

As the two continued kissing, they leaned against a Florentine console table, causing several unpaid bills to tumble onto the floor. She and Veronica made their way to the bedroom, where they began to tear off each other’s clothes. Diana jerked up Veronica’s dress as Veronica tore open her shirt. Then there was a pause.

“Oh,” said Veronica.

“What?” said Diana.

“You’ve gotten…well…you’ve…changed,” said Veronica awkwardly.

“I put on a couple pounds,” said Diana testily. But Diana knew how she looked. Rather—womanly, when she was typically more on the butch side of things.

And admittedly, it was more than just a couple of pounds. The scale had reported a 6-pound gain at her last appointment. 6 pounds in 2 weeks. She was now up to 128, if not more by now. It was unnerving.

Veronica pulled away, surveying her. Veronica walked around her, probably noting how plump Diana’s chest was getting, how full her stomach was, and her ass – her ass was bigger than Veronica’s, now, panties stretched out against it. At least her clothes had offered Diana some shield against judging eyes.

Veronica slid behind her, wrapped her arms around her, glided her fingers over her groin, but then she cupped Diana’s chest. Diana grunted as Veronica began to massage the fleshy masses.

“You better get it together, Diana,” Veronica whispered to her, kneading the mounds. “You’re starting to look girly.”

It was only as she withdrew her hands that Diana realized how much she was enjoying it. Veronica gave her a quick and hard ass-slap that caused Diana to yelp, the sound of the impact echoing throughout the room. She could feel the rounded masses jiggling behind her.

Veronica chuckled. “This must be karma or something. Call me when you get back in shape.”

Diana glared as Veronica left. Once the door closed behind the other woman, Diana rubbed her bottom, which was sore from the recent abuse. But as she continued to rub beyond necessity, she felt her loins heating, nipples hardening, and breathing thinning. Diana quietly groaned, hands continuing to massage her soft ass.

-

By her ten-week appointment, Reed did an excited little clap at seeing her. Diana was progressing quite well, at least in Reed’s opinion.

Diana’s chest had bloated yet more. Her breasts were round, full, plump and fat, and they wobbled uncomfortably on her chest.

Diana felt decidedly bloated in the medical gown she was wearing. Her belly was a rounded mound, visibly bulging against the fabric, and her ass was sticking out through the back despite her best efforts to conceal it, round and full, and all but subtle by then.

Diana was decidedly unhappy. She had wanted a subtle transition, not to become - voluptuous. Her ass was getting out of control.

Dr. Reed was busy observing her chest, looking at her erect nipples protruding against the thin fabric. “Have you considered a maternity bra? It might help with the discomfort.”

Diana simply glowered at her. She digressed, “I’m only two and a half months along, right?” she said, patting her stomach. “So why am I getting so-?”

“Round?” said Dr. Reed with a contented smile. “Shall we find out?” She motioned to the table, and Diana obediently laid back. Reed then rolled a sonogram machine over.

Reed pulled up Diana’s gown and proceeded with the sonogram. As Reed rubbed her tool about her mass, Diana couldn’t help getting aroused. She was surprised that her areola puffed out, her nipples protruding farther, as her loins tingled. Thankfully, Reed did not notice any of it, her focus on the screen. Within moments, Diana was awarded with some gasps and mutters from Reed.

Diana could only imagine the worst. She hoped there wasn’t something horribly wrong. “What?” she said, trying to catch her breath between the arousal and the anxiety.

“Well Diana, this is extraordinary. The treatment seems to have worked better than I could have ever imagined. I’m counting three…four…five fetuses!”

“What!?”

“Yes, five babies,” said Reed, mistaking Diana’s shock for excitement. “And they’re developing quite well.”

That was four more than necessary. “Get rid of them!” Diana’s demand wasn’t the most tactful. She watched Dr. Reed’s face fall.

“I’ve dedicated my career to trying to cure infertility in women, and you want me to jeopardize the whole thing with a pointless elimination procedure?”

“Yes!”

Reed’s eyes hardened. “Get out.”

“What?”

Reed grabbed Diana’s wrist, and Diana was surprised by how strong the other woman was, as she was pulled off the table and dragged her away. Reed all but pushed Diana out the door then slammed it shut in her face.

“Hey, you’re supposed to listen to me. I’m the patient!” Diana rattled the doorknob. “And I need my clothes!”

In the end, Diana was forced to hurry off to her car while clutching the medical gown around her and hoping nobody saw. When she got home, her panic surged. She was carrying five babies. Five of them. Growing. Diana held her rounded belly. She was two months, no wonder she looked four. Maybe five. At this rate, she was gonna explode. Diana got on her phone and called Reed several times, but got no answer. She left messages, angry ones, then pleading ones. On her seventh call, Reed finally picked up.

“You have to compromise with me,” Diana entreated.

“I don’t have to do anything.”

“What do you mean? You’re my doctor!”

“Did you read the contracts, Diana? The ones you signed? Did you read any of them?”

Diana’s heart sank.

“As I said, I don’t have to do anything that will jeopardize my experiment.” With that, Reed hung up the phone.

Diana started pacing. “No no no no no…” she muttered to herself. If Reed wouldn’t do it, she had to find someone who would. But what if the elimination did fuck everything up? What if she got rid of four of the embryos, and something happened to the fifth in the process? Or later on?

Diana tried to keep her mind on her ultimate purpose. 1.7 billion dollars. She looked down at herself. Hadn’t she met the terms of the will, to some degree? She was pregnant. Diana’s heart lifted a little. If she could show Maroon her progress, she was sure she would be granted her inheritance. She would worry about eliminating her pregnancy afterwards.

Diana got back on her phone and arranged a meeting with Maroon for later that day at her great aunt’s estate. She tried to dress comfortably, but had to tug up her pants more than once as her ass crack bulged over the back waistband.

When she got to the estate a few hours later, she was expecting a private meeting with Maroon, but was startled to see that several of her cousins had been summoned. And they seemed startled by her.

Diana was wearing a black peacoat, but her belly had gotten just round enough that it was evident and pushing out in her attire. She also wore some gray sweatpants that were tight in the seat, and pushing out beneath the back of the coat.

“Oh my,” said Penny.

“Goodness,” said Rich. “You put on weight. Wait – you’re not trying to—?”

“I have a meeting with Mr. Maroon.” Diana cut Rich off. She met eyes with the man in question, who was standing in the front of the room. “A private one,” Diana said through her teeth.

“Oh,” said Mr. Maroon. He seemed to catch on. “I see. Private. My apologies. Please follow me to the back.” Maroon led the way.

Once the two got into Maroon’s office, Maroon got behind his desk and began to ramble. “Sorry, I thought we were having another will meeting. Some of the others also expressed interest in trying to contest the will, and…”

Diana busied herself with closing and locking the office door. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face Maroon and unbuttoned her coat. She had never revealed her condition to anyone but Reed, and the whole thing was testing her confidence. “I’m pregnant,” Diana cut Maroon off as she pulled her coat open.

“What?” said Maroon.

Diana slid her shirt up her rounded abdomen. “Yes, there are – babies – in here. I’m pregnant. More than pregnant. I’ll piss on a stick, I will, and I—I think I’ve more than met my aunt’s requirements.”

“Oh my.” Maroon was staring at Diana’s stomach in shock.

Diana was starting to feel uncomfortable. She lowered her hands from her waist, her shirt still bunched up over her protruding belly. “So about my inheritance…”

Maroon lightly shook himself, reddening somewhat. “My, this is…quite the development. But Diana, I’m afraid you haven’t yet met all of the will requirements.”

“What do you mean?” said Diana impatiently. “How—how dare you!” She contrived a self-righteous fury as she started towards the man.

Diana was good at convincing people into doing things they weren’t supposed to. Almost nightly, until recently, she had convinced random club girls to go back to her apartment with her. Just for sport, she had once convinced a homeless person to give her 40 dollars. Diana was certain she could convince Maroon of this.

“I’m pregnant, what the hell is the problem!?” Diana forced as much entitlement and impatience in her voice as she could.

Maroon was fumbling. “My apologies, miss,” he practically groveled, then leaned down and began to rummage in a desk drawer. “I’m just afraid that you have yet to satisfy the specifications in clause 2.”

“Clause 2?”

Maroon finally found what he was looking for. He brandished a type-written document. “Clause 2.”

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Comments (3)
user avatar
User #27538928 - 31 Jan 20 16:35
I love thick fat pregnant girls. That's just how all women should be lol
user avatar
User #2714932 - 19 Jan 20 05:31
Yes please
user avatar
Kompera - 22 Jan 20 11:33
:D
Medication, Part 11 2020-01-17T01:07:25+00:00

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Summary: All his life, Tristan’s mother forced him to take a daily medication, but never really told him why. After Tristan goes off to college, he starts skipping doses, and finally realizes just what the medication is for. Monthly mpreg. Contains: Male: belly expansion, breast expansion, butt expansion.

Previous Chapter

-

“Tristan, we’re having senior medical staff transported in to clear you for travel,” Derek said. “The details of your return are going higher and higher up the command chain. You’ve been missing for months and were declared dead a week ago. You know the media’s going to be all over this.”

Tristan’s face fell. He looked down at his knees.

Derek sighed. “But we’ll do our best.”

Their best wasn’t good enough.

Tristan packed what few things he had. Two days later, he and the babies were helicoptered home. But the moment he got out onto the helipad of the city’s best hospital, he was swarmed by reporters. His heart sank, and he began to feel nauseous.

“UXG News, here with the boy who can give birth, and give birth rapidly!”

“Is it true that you gave birth to five babies in the past two months, sir?”

“Tristan! Tristan, a word?”

“It is our understanding that some of your children are only a month apart in age. Can you confirm this, sir?”

“Tristan, what went on while you were missing in the jungle?”

“How do you explain your medical anomaly? This sort of thing has long been considered impossible.”

“Tristan, were you born male or female?”

“Which of your classmates is the father of your children?”

“People were at risk. People went missing, or even died. And you were busy getting it on during a humanitarian expedition?”

The camera flashes were blinding. And they got all the evidence they needed. His fat belly, still rounded after the birth. The engorged DD-cups on his chest, pushing out against his tight sweatshirt. He was sure that he would start leaking at any moment. He could hear the babies wailing behind him, being carried behind him by various attendants.

Up ahead, a blonde-haired figure was fighting through the crowd. Tristan recognized her immediately, and he struggled his way over. Soon he was wrapped in his mother’s embrace, clutching her desperately, sobbing into her shoulder. He couldn’t lift his head up, he just held onto her for dear life.

His mother was crying as well. He could hear it in her words. “Let’s go inside, Tristan,” she urged.

The crowd seemed to press harder around him, reporters and medical staff attacking from all sides.

“I don’t want to,” said Tristan morosely. He had become a freakshow, an attraction. People wanted to poke and prod him, and find out how he worked. “I just want to go home.”

His mother ran her fingers down his back. You were sick, Tristan, with a deadly disease. We need to make sure you’re okay. We need to have your—your new babies checked out as well. I don’t want to lose you. Not after your father.”

Tristan nodded against her shoulder. After a pause in which he drew a long, shaky breath, he pulled away from his mother, ducking his head as he shoved through the crowd, and was ushered into the hospital building, nurses and doctors flanking him, seeming to overwhelm the reporters now.

Soon he was lying down in a private room after having been put through a multitude of tests. The quiet was pleasant, but he still felt a stitch of tension in his chest whenever his door cracked open, and he could hear the garble of yammering voices out in the corridor. But he breathed through it.

Tristan frowned down at the curve of his lower belly. At the swell of fat, and…and baby. He wondered if he would be having twins again. Resigned, he cupped the bump with his hand.

“Oh honey,” said his mother as she entered the room. She had some wrapped sandwiches in hand. Setting them down on his bedside table, she took a seat and reached over to stroke his hair. “Everything is going to be okay.”

Okay, but decidedly difficult. Now he had seven children to mind—with more on the way—and he wasn’t even sure if he would be allowed to graduate from college after the humiliating fiasco in the forest. “I was stupid,” Tristan said. “I don’t know why I thought I could do this. I should have never gone on the trip.”

“Never regret living your life.”

And now he was crying again. It must have been hormones or something. He impatiently wiped his arm across his cheeks.

“But no more adventures for a while,” said his mother. “I just want you to recover.”

-

Tristan and the babies were discharged only a few days later. He left the hospital in the middle of the night, by which point the presence of reporters had thinned considerably. He was exhausted, but glad to be home again.

His mother’s home, of course. After all, he couldn’t have done this without her.

His life had taken a turn he never would have imagined. Suddenly he was living as a stay-at-home parent, attending to his hoard of infant offspring. And he was growing rapidly, already midway through his new pregnancy. The media was persistent, reporters popping up when he least expected it. So Tristan stayed in, mostly. He had decided to after he heard himself being dubbed, “Boy Breeder.”

He tried to stay away from the media.

Tristan had always been meant to go places, to do great things. It was odd to just be home, with everything so weirdly domestic. All because of a few missed pills. Yet it was nice to be apart from the rest of the world, if just for a little while.

His pregnancy was moving along. His delivery was scheduled to be in the hospital, and everything. It was odd and new, and would certainly be mortifying to be laboring in a medical setting. But at the same time, it was also a relief not to be hiding things anymore. To have the security of modern medicine. It made him feel a lot safer after his ordeal in the forest. It was odd to talk about delivery as well. It was usually something he did alone, not even reaching out to his mother to discuss his fears, his expectations, and his preparations (or lacktheof).

“Now don’t let them convince you to do a cesarean,” his mother was chattering over breakfast one morning.

Tristan was silently munching his toast. He felt heavy, lethargic, bloated, and a little embarrassed. He wasn’t used to people really seeing him like this, at this late stage. Yet here he was, in pajama pants and a top that stretched over his round belly which, in turn, was perched against his lap.

The top of his shirt was unbuttoned, one of his newborns nursing. It wasn’t comfortable to nurse while trying to eat (or nurse while doing anything, really), but he had learned the necessity of multitasking now that he was juggling five newborns and two toddlers.

His breasts were bloated, nipples sore. His whole body ached, and he felt unbalanced at times. He was too narrow for the immensity of his condition, and the strain it posed on his body.

“…’ve been giving birth naturally just fine. You don’t need them to start cutting you up every time,” his mother went on.

“Mum, this is the last time. I’m never doing this again.”

His mother gave him a sympathetic look. “Of course, dear. But what about scarring?”

There was a wailing sound in the next room, which immediately became a chorus of voices. To Tristan, it had become background noise, but his mother reacted, getting up as she simultaneously wiped her hands on her napkin.

“I don’t care about scars,” Tristan called as she left. He sighed, and arched, stretching his sore back. He felt short arms wrap around his stomach, and looked down at his oldest, who was now up and yawning.

“Saying good morning?” Tristan smiled despite it all.

“G’morning to babies,” Erica mumbled against his stomach. “And mornin’ mommy.”

He hardly contained his wince. He didn’t know where they had gotten it, but his eldest two had taken to calling him “mommy” rather than something more respectable like “dad.” His efforts to correct it had yielded no results except to upset them. He supposed he wasn’t an impressive representation of masculinity when he was barefoot, pregnant, and busty. But maybe they wouldn’t remember this when they were older, and he could revert to being their “father” over time.

His mother came back into the kitchen, impressively balancing a baby in each arm. “I just don’t think it’s worth it to get surgery—or, good morning, darling.” She threw a weary smile at Erica.

Tristan rolled his eyes. He didn’t even know why he was arguing with her. As undignified as he found natural birth to be, the thought of surgery was unnerving. Natural birth was something he had gotten used to.

There was a knock on the door. His mother frowned. “Who could that be?” She looked helplessly at her arms, and went back to the nursery. Tristan couldn’t have balanced both babies even if he wasn’t nursing. He didn’t think he could have gotten up and answered the door either, not fast enough that their visitor wouldn’t have assumed that no one was home and departed.

It’s probably just another reporter, Tristan thought in annoyance. “Ready for breakfast?” he asked Erica, glancing around for her cereal.

Erica ignored him, which she had been doing a lot of lately, especially once she realized that Tristan couldn’t take chase anymore. She hopped off towards her bedroom, either to wake her brother or play with toys.

Tristan frowned after her.

His mother hurried past him again, her arms free as she walked off to the living room. Tristan could hear her answer the door, the bolt drawing, the knob turning, and then there was a gasp, and hushed words. Tristan furrowed his brows in concern.

He realized the infant on his chest had stopped feeding. He gently burped him, then as he began to carefully set him down in the bassinette beside him, his mother returned to the kitchen. Her face was white.

“What’s going on?” said Tristan, wondering if someone had died.

“He’s here,” she said blankly.

“Who?”

“The magician—Adam.”

“I—what?” said Tristan, stunned. The magician who had cursed his family—the one who was at fault for his monthly pregnancies?

“Adam is here,” said his mother.

At first Tristan thought it was a joke, but then he remembered that his mother rarely ever joked, if at all. Still, the thought was ludicrous. Adam seemed like some sort of spiritual being, not some person who showed up in the suburbs and knocked on your front door. “How do you know it’s him?” Tristan managed. This was just too much for him in his state. Couldn’t this have waited another few days? Anxious, Tristan rubbed his belly.

“I don’t know, I can just feel it.”

Why this, why now? Wasn’t Adam supposed to just be—gone. Dead, or something? Tristan almost hadn’t believed he was even real. “What does he want?”

“I don’t know. To see you.”

“Don’t let him in here.”

“Tristan…”

“I’ll come out.”

The baby in the bassinette was settling, slowly falling asleep. Heart clenching, Tristan tore his attention away. Planting his hands firmly against the kitchen table, he heaved himself up with a grunt. His mother came up beside him in case he lost his balance.

Giving his mother a grim look, Tristan waddled towards the next room. He thought of the awkward presentation he made. He was absolutely massive.

He felt flushed by the time he made it through the living room, where he regarded his guest at the front door.

For a centuries-old magician, Adam was shockingly young, even—handsome. Not that Tristan saw him that way, it was just a blatant, irrefutable fact, as though Adam was strategically, or mystically attractive.

It was strange, the telling air he gave off. Yet somehow he looked like an ordinary twenty-something-year-old, with striking eyes, and dark hair. He was familiar. Tristan was sure he had seen him before. Sort of in the background in different parts of his adulthood. Someone who he had never truly registered. Had Adam been watching him for a while?

And Tristan could feel what his mother had. He could sense it somehow. It was him. It was fundamentally Adam. Tristan could feel it in his being.

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Pet Shop, Part 17 - Male Version 2020-01-14T00:30:40+00:00

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Summary: An animal breeder is cursed to start personally giving birth to supply his pet shop with animals. Contains: Male: belly expansion, breast expansion, lactation, multiple breasts.

Previous Chapter

-

It didn’t really resemble a squid or even an octopus—or perhaps it did, but a headless one. It was a small clump of tentacles that were an unnerving fluorescent blue.

Jack was frozen, except for the gentle contractions that made his belly shudder against him. Tom and Sturges stood by, staring, opened-mouthed, as the tentacle slowly crawled up the surface of Jack’s belly.

Jack cringed and twitched to get it off, yet found himself not wanting to touch it any more than he already was.

“Keep going,” said Sturges. “Keep pushing. Don’t get distracted.”

That was a steep order when the tentacle creature was crawling yet higher, finally encountering Jack’s D-cups breasts. It touched the lower left mound with one of its windy limbs, then paused.

“F-fuck,” Jack hissed, arching as he gave a hard push, and several eggs and creatures poured out of him in quick succession. He panted, feeling weary. This birth was proving harder than the other ones.

Something crept against his breast, causing Jack’s eyes to shoot back down. The tentacle creature was against his breast, and had decided to linger there, hiding his puffy areola from view. Jack felt a pull on his nipple, a squeezing, a sucking sensation. “Oh god, oh fuck,” he hissed, as the tentacle gave a hard draw. It was drinking his milk, but keenly, forcefully, even pressing and squeezing at his breast by wrapping its slimy limbs about the plump flesh. “Get it off me!” he cried.

“Jack.”

Jack’s eyes snapped up. He hadn’t even noticed that Simon had arrived. The marine biologist rested a hand on his shoulder. “Its instinct is to nurse. We know little to nothing about this species. You got engorged in this pregnancy. It might need your milk to survive.”

That fact did nothing for the squeamish nature of it all. In fact, it just made things worse. Puppies had been bad enough. Jack couldn’t imagine himself nursing squids for a prolonged period of time.

Sturges seemed immobilized by shock and stood by blankly staring. Even Tom had momentarily frozen, but somehow he managed to shake himself off, like he always did. Never fazed for more than a moment. He returned to cleaning the skin glue off one of Jack’s upper breasts, paying mind not to bother the squid creature. By then, a second squid was slowly crawling up Jack’s belly.

“You’re panicking,” Tom reasoned, as Simon continued to rub his shoulder. “It’s not as bad as you think. I promise.”

“Ngghhhhh…” Jack tensed and reddened, and couldn’t help pushing, his belly feeling so tight, it could just split in two. Sturges seemed to snap out of his reverie and urged him on. Jack didn’t know how many he had birthed so far, but rather didn’t want to know.

It went on for hours. There were just so many. At some point, Jack was sure Simon and Sturges began to switch out, taking shifts in watching him, as though he was a chore. But of course, they were making bank. They all were.

His chest was covered in tentacle creatures, squirming, struggling, fighting for a chance to pump his nipples, truly pump them, like relentless machines. He was not sure how he had not run out of milk by then, but he could feel his breasts tingling continuously, and the hot, tender sensation of his milk coming in. His body was working overtime to keep up with the supply, and he was sweating profusely.

His belly grew gradually smaller, soon looking as though he was pregnant but not overdue or with multiples. He wasn’t done yet, but he was sweaty and exhausted. Only in the past half hour or so had the soreness of his ass really begun to bother him. It wasn’t a singular egg or creature, but the accumulation of their numbers and the time it took to birth them, that was really antagonizing things. If he had only birthed a dozen or so of these creatures, it would have been easy.

Even the contractions were starting to hurt, his belly seizing repetitively, muscles straining and shuddering, squeezing creature after creature out of his body. His heart was pounding. He needed some sort of reprieve.

“Almost there,” Tom was now behind him, rubbing his back. “You’re almost finished, just a few more.”

He had been saying that for the past hour. Grimacing, Jack pushed again with his next contraction. He had no dignity left, so didn’t even bother to contain the long groan that escaped his throat as what felt to be two eggs arduously shoved through his rectum.

In another few moments, he had finished. He gasped for breath, face flushed, body trembling. Tom continued to rub his arm, seeming fatigued himself. Jack didn’t know what time it was, he just wanted to go to bed and never get up.

“You may have to keep nursing them,” Tom said what seemed abundantly obvious. There were so many of the creatures. In fact, Jack was submerged in a watery pile of the slimy, slithery things. It would be a miracle if they all got a chance at his breasts in the span of a day. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t try to get some sleep.”

Jack was trying to figure out how that would work out, practically speaking. Oh god, “Do I—do I have to stay in the tub?” he said, heart sinking, body shaking. He couldn’t imagine having to stay here for a day, let alone weeks or months, feeding them continuously.

“We’ve been discussing that,” said Simon, as he and Struges returned from the office, where they had presumably been talking about the matter. “Dr. Sturges has some fawn bottles. If you can tolerate an automated breast pump, we can have Dean and Mindy handle the feedings for the time being. We’ll bring in some temps at the shop, and adjust things as needed.”

Jack nodded eagerly, the trajectory of his next few months changing vastly with Simon’s words. With weak hands, he reached down, and began to try to detach the creatures, wincing. They were stuck to his chest like glue, clinging on, and refusing the get off.

The others tried to help, but it didn’t yield any results, except to make Jack squirm and yelp.

Eventually they settled on letting them stay put, and return them to the tub once they got their fill. If they had adverse effects to being away from the water, Jack would go to another bathroom, and stay there, submerged in water, until the attached tentacles detached from him.

Jack was helped out of the tub.

Thankfully, only the tentacles on his chest stayed attached, and not the ones crowding around his lower body. He felt as though he was wearing a squirming pair of bras, as they continued to squeeze and struggle for access to his nipples. The remaining tentacles writhed around in the tub, in a disorderly heap. They would need tanks soon. But the others could handle that. Jack allowed Tom to wrap a towel around, as he fidgeted every so often from the sensation of the rough nursing.

He looked big upright, like he was a still seven or eight months pregnant, still round and awkward. He frowned, but said nothing, making his way to a spare room where he did his best to get into some clothes.

He was so exhausted, he could collapse right there. When he came out of the room, Tom wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

He was barely conscious through the process of getting into Tom’s car, being driven to his house, and collapsing in bed.

-

Jack awoke several hours later to his stomach lurching. “Nghhh…goddd…” he groaned, shifting, opening himself up.

His chest was unclothed, and squids there now gone, and replaced by the suction cups of an automatic pump that was adhered to all four of his nipples as the machine worked. Tom must have set it up for him in his sleep. His breasts looked huge, easily DD-cups by then. They ached and heaved, all four clearly engorged despite the pumping. Strangely enough, that wasn’t the primary source of his discomfort.

His belly was tight, and…active. It twisted and contorted in places, pressing out frighteningly, before being seized by vicious contractions. Jack hugged it in desperation. “T-tom!” he called. But his house seemed empty. He wasn’t even sure how long he had been unconscious. Ordinarily he would have been grateful for the privacy, but his predicament was just too tenuous, too frightening.

“Ahhhhh….” Fuck. It was coming. Jack’s face twisted in pain as something worked, almost climbed its way through his birth canal, squishing fast and forcefully, yet altogether too big for him. “Hahhh…hahhh…” he breathed in panic, “Fuck—nrrgghhhhh!” He arched, and pawed at himself, and twisted in pain, whimpering and sobbing. It was heavy and tight and fucking painful, his insides in agony. Another shove, and he feared he would tear.

Because it was coming…crowning…and in his mad haze he had half a mind to push it back in with his trembling fingers. “Ohhh…ahhh…” He rocked, and pushed, and cupped his tight belly, face hot, tears pouring down his cheeks.

It shoved in throbs, opening him more and more, until an obscene croak escaped his throat, and he was arching so hard against the mattress that his lower back lifted up from the sheets.

Finally it popped free with little ceremony, something trailing it, a few…limbs, or something. Jack gasped for breath, and stuffed his face in his pillow, drying his tears and muffling his whimpers. It took a while for him to peek up at what was sprawled between his thighs.

The mother squid.

-

That evening, Sturges came and did a sonogram.

“There’s nothing left in there,” he confirmed. “Not that I can see, anyway. All the eggs, the hatchlings, and the er—mother—are out.”

Jack gave a stiff nod of acknowledgement. He still felt shaken from the final birth. He was sore and achy from his tits to his groin. In fact, everything fucking hurt, his abdominal muscles twitching as though they were still occupied.

“Things have gone too far,” Jack heard the words come, hoarsely, from his throat. He looked down at himself, at the four fat tits stacked on his chest, stretching his T-shirt, and leaving milk-stains on the fabric. He looked at his softened belly and his clammy body. “I don’t think I can go through that again. I think we have to stop.”

There was a moment of silence, Sturges, Simon, Tom, Dean, and Mindy all looking down at his tense form, their expressions ranging from solemn to uneasy.

“Childbirth can be…traumatizing for some,” Simon input delicately. “It was your first time passing an animal that was comparable to the size of a newborn baby. And you did it alone. It’s completely understandable that you’re—a bit disturbed. But you can do this.”

“I can’t,” said Jack definitively.

“Sleep on it. Just think things through,” suggested Tom.

Jack didn’t want to think it through, he just scowled and glared at the wall.

He zoned out as the discussion shifted to the baby squids—apparently there wasn’t enough milk to feed all of them. There was talk of keeping him on the breast pumps continuously, granted his breasts kept up with it.

At night, Jack tried to get some rest, but he found himself fidgeting. For some reason, his whole torso was itchy. He tossed and turned, scratching at himself until his skin felt tender. He remembered the tentacles and suction cups that had adhered to him, and wondered if he had some sort of allergy to his latest yield of animals.

When he padded to his full-length mirror, grimacing at the way his sweaty cleavage bulged against the neckline of his tank top, he pulled up his shirt and examined his torso. The skin was flushed from the irritation. As he trailed his fingers over it, he felt a small bump on his ribs, like a mosquito bite, and began to wonder if his house had bugs. It made sense, once he considered his constant, seeping supply of milk. He had to launder his clothing and sheets continuously, but sometimes his room still smelled sour.

Jack applied some lotion, which soothed him somewhat. Still, he glared warily at his skin and decided to keep a close eye on it. Lightly shaking his head, Jack turned off the lights and made a second effort at sleep. He still couldn’t help rubbing and scratching occasionally.

He just hoped this wasn’t some freakish new development or something.

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Comments (3)
user avatar
User #11418356 - 7 Apr 20 11:49
Surprised one of the squids didn't latch onto his member. :)
user avatar
Kompera - 12 Apr 20 11:16
lol
user avatar
User #11418356 - 12 Apr 20 14:24
What can I say, I like it when mpreg versions have that little bit "extra". :D My favourite being in Fishboy where he started cumming non-stop during the birth. I'm surprised that Mpreg stories don't feature Prostrate stimulation, surely having an "occupant" rub up against it, hitting the character with sudden arousal would be a fun concept. :)
Pet Shop, Part 17 - Female Version 2020-01-14T00:28:46+00:00

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Summary: An animal breeder is cursed to start personally giving birth to supply her pet shop with animals. Contains: Female: belly expansion, breast expansion, lactation, multiple breasts.

Previous Chapter

-

It didn’t really resemble a squid or even an octopus—or perhaps it did, but a headless one. It was a small clump of tentacles that were an unnerving fluorescent blue.

Maggie was frozen, except for the gentle contractions that made her belly shudder against her. Tom and Sturges stood by, staring, opened-mouthed, as the tentacle slowly crawled up the surface of Maggie’s belly.

Maggie cringed and twitched to get it off, yet found herself not wanting to touch it any more than she already was.

“Keep going,” said Sturges. “Keep pushing. Don’t get distracted.”

That was a steep order when the tentacle creature was crawling yet higher, finally encountering Maggie’s D-cups breasts. It touched the lower left mound with one of its windy limbs, then paused.

“F-fuck,” Maggie hissed, arching as she gave a hard push, and several eggs and creatures poured out of her in quick succession. She panted, feeling weary. This birth was proving harder than the other ones.

Something crept against her breast, causing Maggie’s eyes to shoot back down. The tentacle creature was against her breast, and had decided to linger there, hiding her puffy areola from view. Maggie felt a pull on her nipple, a squeezing, a sucking sensation. “Oh god, oh fuck,” she hissed, as the tentacle gave a hard draw. It was drinking her milk, but keenly, forcefully, even pressing and squeezing at her breast by wrapping its slimy limbs about the plump flesh. “Get it off me!” she cried.

“Maggie.”

Maggie’s eyes snapped up. She hadn’t even noticed that Simon had arrived. The marine biologist rested a hand on her shoulder. “Its instinct is to nurse. We know little to nothing about this species. You got engorged in this pregnancy. It might need your milk to survive.”

That fact did nothing for the squeamish nature of it all. In fact, it just made things worse. Puppies had been bad enough. Maggie couldn’t imagine herself nursing squids for a prolonged period of time.

Sturges seemed immobilized by shock and stood by blankly staring. Even Tom had momentarily frozen, but somehow he managed to shake himself off, like he always did. Never fazed for more than a moment. He returned to cleaning the skin glue off one of Maggie’s upper breasts, paying mind not to bother the squid creature. By then, a second squid was slowly crawling up Maggie’s belly.

“You’re panicking,” Tom reasoned, as Simon continued to rub her shoulder. “It’s not as bad as you think. I promise.”

“Ngghhhhh…” Maggie tensed and reddened, and couldn’t help pushing, her belly feeling so tight, it could just split in two. Sturges seemed to snap out of his reverie and urged her on. Maggie didn’t know how many she had birthed so far, but rather didn’t want to know.

It went on for hours. There were just so many. At some point, Maggie was sure Simon and Sturges began to switch out, taking shifts in watching her, as though she was a chore. But of course, they were making bank. They all were.

Her chest was covered in tentacle creatures, squirming, struggling, fighting for a chance to pump her nipples, truly pump them, like relentless machines. She was not sure how she had not run out of milk by then, but she could feel her breasts tingling continuously, and the hot, tender sensation of her milk coming in. Her body was working overtime to keep up with the supply, and she was sweating profusely.

Her belly grew gradually smaller, soon looking as though she was pregnant but not overdue or with multiples. She wasn’t done yet, but she was sweaty and exhausted. Only in the past half hour or so had the soreness of her groin really begun to bother her. It wasn’t a singular egg or creature, but the accumulation of their numbers and the time it took to birth them, that was really antagonizing things. If she had only birthed a dozen or so of these creatures, it would have been easy.

Even the contractions were starting to hurt, her belly seizing repetitively, muscles straining and shuddering, squeezing creature after creature out of her body. Her heart was pounding. She needed some sort of reprieve.

“Almost there,” Tom was now behind her, rubbing her back. “You’re almost finished, just a few more.”

He had been saying that for the past hour. Grimacing, Maggie pushed again with her next contraction. She had no dignity left, so didn’t even bother to contain the long groan that escaped her throat as what felt to be two eggs arduously shoved through her opening.

In another few moments, she had finished. She gasped for breath, face flushed, body trembling. Tom continued to rub her back, seeming fatigued himself. Maggie didn’t know what time it was, she just wanted to go to bed and never get up.

“You may have to keep nursing them,” Tom said what seemed abundantly obvious. There were so many of the creatures. In fact, Maggie was submerged in a watery pile of the slimy, slithery things. It would be a miracle if they all got a chance at her breasts in the span of a day. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t try to get some sleep.”

Maggie was trying to figure out how that would work out, practically speaking. Oh god, “Do I—do I have to stay in the tub?” she said, heart sinking, body shaking. She couldn’t imagine having to stay here for a day, let alone weeks or months, feeding them continuously.

“We’ve been discussing that,” said Simon, as she and Struges returned from the office, where they had presumably been talking about the matter. “Dr. Sturges has some fawn bottles. If you can tolerate an automated breast pump, we can have Dean and Mindy handle the feedings for the time being. We’ll bring in some temps at the shop, and adjust things as needed.”

Maggie nodded eagerly, the trajectory of her next few months changing vastly with Simon’s words. With weak hands, she reached down, and began to try to detach the creatures, wincing. They were stuck to her chest like glue, clinging on, and refusing the get off.

The others tried to help, but it didn’t yield any results, except to make Maggie squirm and yelp.

Eventually they settled on letting them stay put, and return them to the tub once they got their fill. If they had adverse effects to being away from the water, Maggie would go to another bathroom, and stay there, submerged in water, until the attached tentacles detached from her.

Maggie was helped out of the tub.

Thankfully, only the tentacles on her chest stayed attached, and not the ones crowding around her lower body. She felt as though she was wearing a squirming pair of bras, as they continued to squeeze and struggle for access to her nipples. The remaining tentacles writhed around in the tub, in a disorderly heap. They would need tanks soon. But the others could handle that. Maggie allowed Tom to wrap a towel around her, as she fidgeted every so often from the sensation of the rough nursing.

She looked big upright, like she was a still seven or eight months pregnant, still round and awkward. She frowned, but said nothing, making her way to a spare room where she did her best to get into some clothes.

She was so exhausted, she could collapse right there. When she came out of the room, Tom wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

She was barely conscious through the process of getting into Tom’s car, being driven to her house, and collapsing in bed.

-

Maggie awoke several hours later to her stomach lurching. “Nghhh…goddd…” she groaned, shifting, opening herself up.

Her chest was unclothed, the squids there now gone, and replaced by the suction cups of an automatic pump that was adhered to all four of her nipples as the machine worked. Tom must have set it up for her in her sleep. Her breasts looked huge, easily DD-cups by then. They ached and heaved, all four clearly engorged despite the pumping. Strangely enough, that wasn’t the primary source of her discomfort.

Her belly was tight, and…active. It twisted and contorted in places, pressing out frighteningly, before being seized by vicious contractions. Maggie hugged it in desperation. “T-tom!” she called. But her house seemed empty. She wasn’t even sure how long she had been unconscious. Ordinarily she would have been grateful for the privacy, but her predicament was just too tenuous, too frightening.

“Ahhhhh….” Fuck. It was coming. Maggie’s face twisted in pain as something worked, almost climbed its way through her birth canal, squishing fast and forcefully, yet altogether too big for her. “Hahhh…hahhh…” she breathed in panic, “Fuck—nrrgghhhhh!” She arched, and pawed at herself, and twisted in pain, whimpering and sobbing. It was heavy and tight and fucking painful, her insides in agony. Another shove, and she feared she would tear.

Because it was coming…crowning…and in her mad haze she had half a mind to push it back in with her trembling fingers. “Ohhh…ahhh…” She rocked, and pushed, and cupped her tight belly, face hot, tears pouring down her cheeks.

It shoved in throbs, opening her more and more, until an obscene croak escaped her throat, and she was arching so hard against the mattress that her lower back lifted up from the sheets.

Finally it popped free with little ceremony, something trailing it, a few…limbs, or something. Maggie gasped for breath, and stuffed her face in her pillow, drying her tears and muffling her whimpers. It took a while for her to peek up at what was sprawled between her thighs.

The mother squid.

-

That evening, Sturges came and did a sonogram.

“There’s nothing left in there,” he confirmed. “Not that I can see, anyway. All the eggs, the hatchlings, and the er—mother—are out.”

Maggie gave a stiff nod of acknowledgement. She still felt shaken from the rapid final birth. She was sore and achy from her tits to her groin. In fact, everything fucking hurt, her abdominal muscles twitching as though they were still occupied.

“Things have gone too far,” Maggie heard the words come, hoarsely, from her throat. She looked down at herself, at the four fat tits stacked on her chest, stretching her T-shirt, and leaving milk-stains on the fabric. She looked at her softened belly and her clammy body. “I don’t think I can go through that again. I think we have to stop.”

There was a moment of silence, Sturges, Simon, Tom, Dean, and Mindy all looking down at her tense form, their expressions ranging from solemn to uneasy.

“Childbirth can be…traumatizing for some,” Simon input delicately. “It was your first time passing an animal that was comparable to the size of a newborn baby. And you did it alone. It’s completely understandable that you’re—a bit disturbed. But you can do this.”

“I can’t,” said Maggie definitively.

“Sleep on it. Just think things through,” suggested Tom.

Maggie didn’t want to think it through, she just scowled and glared at the wall.

She zoned out as the discussion shifted to the baby squids—apparently there wasn’t enough milk to feed all of them. There was talk of keeping her on the breast pumps continuously, granted her breasts kept up with it.

At night, Maggie tried to get some rest, but she found herself fidgeting. For some reason, her whole torso was itchy. She tossed and turned, scratching at herself until her skin felt tender. She remembered the tentacles and suction cups that had adhered to her, and wondered if she had some sort of allergy to her latest yield.

When she padded to her full-length mirror, grimacing at the way her sweaty cleavage bulged against the neckline of her tank top, she pulled up her shirt and examined her torso. The skin was flushed from the irritation. As she trailed her fingers over it, she felt a small bump on her ribs, like a mosquito bite, and began to wonder if her house had bugs. It made sense, once she considered her constant, seeping supply of milk. She had to launder her clothing and sheets continuously, but sometimes her room still smelled sour.

Maggie applied some lotion, which soothed her somewhat. Still, she glared warily at her skin and decided to keep a close eye on it. Lightly shaking her head, Maggie turned off the lights and made a second effort at sleep. She still couldn’t help rubbing and scratching occasionally.

She just hoped this wasn’t some freakish new development or something.

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Comments (6)
user avatar
User #11418356 - 4 Apr 20 08:32
Loved how the mother squid just “let herself out” so to speak. :D
user avatar
Kompera - 7 Apr 20 11:06
:DD
user avatar
User #4803830 - 14 Jan 20 01:54
Sorry Maggie, but I definitely hope this is a freakish new development! Still rooting for her to get a tail. Maybe she'll have a more traditional pet creature next . . .
user avatar
Kompera - 17 Jan 20 00:35
:D
user avatar
User #230963 - 14 Jan 20 07:08
It's definitely a freakish new development <3
user avatar
Kompera - 17 Jan 20 00:35
:D
Tentacles II, Part 9 2020-01-07T11:25:29+00:00

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Tentacles in DeviantArt

Summary: Katie is impregnated with tentacles. Contains: Female: tentacle pregnancy, belly expansion, breast expansion, butt expansion, egg laying, unbirthing, partial transformation, forcefeeding, stuffing, multiple breasts, and more.

Previous Chapter

-

Katie felt cool and clammy, her body stiff. She lowered her phone face-down to the dresser. Then she turned away from it. She found some flip flops and shoved her feet into them. She saw her purse on the bed, and grabbed it, hanging it off her shoulder.

As Katie waddled for her bedroom door, a white mouse skittered by, startling her, and making her almost lose her balance. She wrinkled her nose at this new development. She was a tidy person and had never had issues of bugs or rodents in her life.

As Katie made her way through the kitchen, she grabbed her car keys off the counter. Everything was there. Everything was eerily in place where she had left it. Yet she didn’t feel as though she was home anymore. She just wanted to get away, as far, and as fast as possible.

Katie walked out of the house, deciding that she needed to be somewhere more public, and distant from her relatively remote property.

She looked around, feeling paranoid as she eased herself down into the driver’s seat of her car. She knew they were surveilling her. They had said as much. But she was oblivious of the extent of it. Maybe if she left town, she could disappear. If necessary, she was even willing to ditch her vehicle.

In only moments she was driving down the freeway in her quavering old sedan, face twisting as the tremors reverberated up to her churning stomach.

She took and exit down a narrow road, and had just reached the border of the city, when her car began to sputter warningly. She pressed the gas, eager to achieve the small plateau of escaping her town, but instead, the car slowed down more, now emitting a caterwaul from the engine.

The road was empty except for the occasional delivery truck that cruised by. There were two or so local shops across the street.

Katie tried turning her car on a few more times, but the engine seemed completely dead. Feeling a little breathless in her panic, she opened the door, and hauled herself upright. She arched and groaned, stretching her tense, stinging back. She then held the underside of her gut and began to lumber across the road, silently hoping that the tentacles didn’t decide to make an appearance at this inopportune moment.

Of the three shops in the small outlet, one was closed, one was boarded up, and the last one was open. Katie made her way inside, her fat belly heaving gently with her heavy breathing. Her D-cups rocked on her chest, nipples sticking out against the cotton of her tank top. At the front was a sleepy-looking cashier, and an elderly man was browsing magazines to the side of the register. A teenager was perusing the candy aisle, and a woman was dragging a toddler along as she examined the dates on packages of sliced bread.

Katie’s eyes trailed across a display, and she felt monstrously hungry the moment she saw the fattening snacks there, stuffed into the shelves. There were packaged caked stuffed with creams and slathered with icing. Factory-made, and entirely processed. It was the type of thing she typically would have sneered at not long ago.

Somehow she managed to tear her gaze away, for the moment, at least. She saw a dusty ATM, and wobbled her way over. She bit her lip and stared at it hopelessly for a moment, before hesitating, and digging into her purse. She found her wallet, with her ID and all her debit and credit cards to her disbelief!

She tried her debit card first, but her account was empty – 0 balance. Her throat tightened slightly.

She tried her credit cards for a cash advance, but each and every card had been deactivated. By then she was panicking, and her body congruently felt terrible and tight. She cupped her stomach with both hands, allowing her fingers to slip under the taut hem of her shirt, drawing it up a few inches as she caressed the lurching mass. The occasional shape pressed at the surface, long and windy, and slithering about, snake-like. Her skin stretched under her hands, flushing worrisomely as veins rose to the surface.

“Mam?” said a voice behind her. “Mam, are you done with the machine.”

Katie groaned and opened her eyes, only then realizing that they had been squeezed shut. She staggered towards the exit, her belly throbbing so forcefully that some of the other patrons were staring at her now.

“Miss,” called the cashier uneasily. “Miss, are you alright?”

But she simply left, her belly twisting, swelling, and aching so powerfully she thought she might burst. She had never wanted a tentacle to make an exit before that moment, but maybe it would free up some space, because she was so fucking tight, and she—she needed to—

“Water,” she gasped out. She needed water at that moment, she needed it to survive. Yet there was no sign of it. She staggered to the side of the building, and a small parking lot, searching desperately with her eyes.

She spotted a shallow, muddy puddle of water, and found herself desperately hurrying towards it, grunting and whimpering as her shirt slid and stretched against her tight expanse of flesh. Her nipples ached and burned, all of her flesh hot and tingling. She found herself collapsing into the small puddle, soaking her skirt through, and the moment her loins hit the lukewarm water, her belly contracted powerfully. She gasped and gripped it, her face reddening and breasts wiggling as she struggled for leverage. She looked overdue with child by then. And she felt as though something—something was making an exit.

It wasn’t a tentacle. It was too large, round, and hard. Katie drew up her knees as she sat there, so her thighs flanked her huge belly. She groaned, twitched, and held her face as she felt herself stretching slowly against an unyielding mass. Finally, it popped free and into the puddle, leaving her gasping for breath.

The pressure subsided.

As she sat there, feeble and sore, trying to regain her composure, she finally took inventory of her surroundings. She was surprised to see that she wasn’t alone.

There were—there were other people there, standing around, gawking at her. The mother and child from the shop stood together by a minivan, both staring at her, grocery bags forgotten on the tarmac at their feet.

A young man tentatively took a step forward, then thought better, and took a step back. He began to walk away, looking perturbed.

Yet another person got on their phone. Dialed briefly, then began to mutter about mental breakdowns, heavily pregnant, and, “send an ambulance.”

Maybe it would be for the best if the authorities picked her up. At least she would be in their hands, and not those of her captors. Granted they weren’t one in the same.

What would they think of the tentacles? But she was resigned. She didn’t have the energy to care.

There you are,” someone intoned emphatically.

Katie stiffened at the familiar voice. She wearily looked up.

It was Matt.

She was surprised by how strong he was when he easily pulled her to her feet, causing her to yelp as her back was reacquainted with the terrible weight of what squirmed within her.

Her limbs were shaking, her clothes a muddied mess.

“I was worried sick about you,” said Matt in a mocking tone that she had, until that moment, thought to be a loving one.

He pulled her to a car, and she was both so breathless and unbalanced that she did not have the chance to protest before he was shoving her inside, closing and locking the door behind her.

Matt disappeared for a moment before climbing into the passengers seat, closing the door, leaning back, and giving a long-suffering sigh.

Then he regarded her, eyes trailing her heaving form.

“You’ve gotten ripe.” It was all he had to say, after everything they had been through together. After everything he had done. He seemed a different person, his words almost snide. Even his accent was slightly off.

Katie curled in on herself, wanting to be small as possible, which was rather counterproductive when one had a melon-sized lump on their midsection.

“Don’t move.” Matt said.

He got out of the car and walked back to the mud puddle, where he squatted down. He reached into the dirty water, seeming to be looking something. His face opened, lips firming. He had found it. Then he was back in the car, starting it hastily, while one hand cradled something to his chest, an—object. It was round, but perhaps not perfectly so. It was green, and hard. Shell-like. In fact, it looked like an—egg.

Katie’s brain glitched out as she connected the dots. It should have been easier but the idea was still so ludicrous. She had laid an egg. “What is happening to me?” she rasped.

But Matt ignored her as he began to drive. He set the muddied green egg in a padded basket between their seats, and she stared at it vacantly. That thing had been inside of her. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She felt a little hysterical. The tentacles were using her body as a breeding ground. It was some sort of massive parasite.

“It’s amazing, Katie,” Matt told her, his eyes on the road. “You really are thriving on earth. This is a breakthrough. You’ve done well. I’ll include it all in my report.”

He pulled into her drive way.

“Now, no more day-trips, honey. Not that we don’t enjoy tracking you, but you seem a little worse for wear.”

Entirely furious, Katie swung the car door open and heaved herself out. She wadded her way back to her house, and went directly to her bedroom, slamming and locking the door behind her.

She eased herself down in bed, her belly tight and uncomfortable. She heard the clanging of pots and clinks of dishes in the kitchen, and grimaced. Matt had let himself inside. But then, he did have a spare key. She cursed under her breath and turned to her side, breathing heavily. Her nipples tingled and her loins throbbed. She rubbed her belly consolingly, hoping to stave for another episode, and yet suspecting it was futile.

So she stayed in her room, thighs clenched shut, waiting for the noise to cease, indicating that Matt was gone. She was not sure what he was doing there anyway. She felt like a prisoner in her own house. But maybe that was the point. Maybe Matt was supposed to keep watch of her from that point on.

She struggled and maneuvered herself up to a sitting position, then grabbed hold of her night stand and heaved herself to her feet. She padded her way slowly to the kitchen where Matt was…cooking, apparently.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I thought I’d make us some dinner.” Matt didn’t look up from the pot of food he was stirring.

Katie felt dizzy in her languor. She watched as another fat white mouse scuttled by. “It’s disgusting.”

Matt turned slightly to note the object of her remark. “Hopefully it will resolve itself,” he said nonchalantly as he returned his attention back to the meal he was preparing.

“Get out,” Katie snapped.

Matt pretended not to hear her. She took a step closer.

“Get out of my house. Haven’t you done enough to me!?” She motioned to her swollen from.

Suddenly she was being pressed hard into the wall, Matt pinning her there, her heart racing, not in fear, but an eerie sense of exhilaration. Her insides lurched and shoved down, as her loins quavered, as though to eject something. Matt’s hand was jammed into the face of her gut, putting so much pressure there that her face flushed in discomfort.

“Listen preggo,” he said in a harsh growl she had never heard come out of him before. “You’ll do what I say, when I say it. Otherwise you’ll face the consequences.” He pressed into her harder, making her squirm for escape. It was getting too uncomfortable. The tentacles writhed furiously, making long bulges flow against the straining surface of her stomach. “Understood?”

She managed a weak nod.

Matt pulled away, just as fast and smooth as he had shoved her there. He returned to the counter, puttering away as though nothing had happened. Gasping for breath, Katie backed into the corner.

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Egg Issues 2019-12-31T11:01:01+00:00

Note: This is a story-prompt for Ryan Caday.

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-

Amy was sitting in class trying to get some notes done, when she felt a sudden tension in her loins. Her belly rocked with gentle contractions. Eyes going wide, Amy climbed to her feet and hurried out of the room, her hand cradling her rounded gut.

Her classmates stared after her.

As Amy hurried into the bathroom, she could feel that the egg was already beginning to crown. It forced its way onwards, achingly stretching her. She rushed into a stall, locked the door, and squatted down just in time for the egg to drop lightly against the floor. She groaned, and dropped to her knees, panting quietly.

It had started two weeks earlier. Amy had begun dropping eggs out of nowhere, each roughly the size of an orange. Amy’s belly had gotten increasingly bloated as she continued to birth eggs at random, and with increasing frequency. Now she looked as though she was six months pregnant, and gave birth to roughly four eggs a day.

“Eugh,” she groaned, rubbing her gurgling mound.

She still didn’t know what to do with them all. At present, most were stuffed in the bottom left drawer in the old bureau in her dorm room. She didn’t even want to know what they contained.

Amy knew that she should have spoken to someone about it, but it was finals week, and she had worked so hard. She wouldn’t allow her freshman year of college to be ruined because of some freakish anomaly.

And so, she grabbed up the bright white egg from the floor and stuffed it into her backpack. With another grunt, she heaved herself to her feet, brushed herself off, and headed back to class.

-

In another week, Amy looked as though she was nine months pregnant.

Her gut was jutting outwards on her thin body, her belly button bulging, a visible lump in her clothing. Her stomach gurgled and groaned continuously, and she could actually feel the eggs shifting around inside of her, pressing against her stretched skin.

Finals were almost over. In fact, there was only one let, and then she would be on summer break.

To celebrate the conclusion of Calculus, Amy and her dorm mates ordered pizza, and decided to watch a movie.

Amy was dressed in a small pair of gym-shorts that displayed her thin legs and hips. The college T-shirt she had donned pulled tightly over her round, swollen belly, several inches of skin bulging free of the tautly stretched hem. She wobbled awkwardly at times, but for the most part, managed to stay relatively balanced. She still just couldn’t believe how big she had gotten. Once she finished her last final the following day, she would be free to worry about what was going on inside of her.

Amy was just leaning over to grab a fourth slice of pizza, when she grimaced, her belly tensing. It was another egg. She didn’t have much a time.

She was up to six a day by then. Planting her hands firmly on the arms of the couch, Amy heaved herself up, but the strain just pushed the egg downwards, causing it to crown to the point that she felt it shoving out of her. She was sure that it was making a visible bulge in her shorts.

Her roommates stared. They had been too polite so far to inquire about her rapid weight gain, but now they seemed truly baffled. One dropped a slice of pizza right on her lap.

Grimacing, Amy made her way to her bedroom in an awkward wobble so not to crush the egg pushing between her thighs. It was shoving her pants downwards as the shorts took on more and more of the girth of the egg. She could feel a second egg shoving behind it, trying to crown.

She climbed onto her bed panting quietly, leaning back and spreading herself wide. She allowed the first egg to drop, then grunted, and pushed until the second egg popped free as well. She moaned and rubbed her hands up and down her swollen stomach. It heaved gently with her deep breaths, and was filled with a perpetual pressure, her skin prickling, as though it was inching forward with growth even at that moment.

It probably was.

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Pep Rally V 2019-12-31T03:23:10+00:00

Note: This is a story-prompt for varvi.

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Previous

-

Scott noticed, over time, and he was slowly, subtly, becoming stronger. He had never been one for weight training, but he was able to lift more than he ever had before. Even helping support Sam getting up and about was almost effortless for him, heavy as she was getting.

He had undergone an unusual growth spurt, and was getting taller, as well as bulkier. Even his dick had gotten thicker, longer, and he was pleasantly surprised by the transformation.

It was only as the growths on his head exacerbated, and pointed bones—no, horns—began to emerge from his hair, that he realized that something had gone wrong. He was changing.

It must have been a side-effect to his exposure to Sam. He was becoming almost bull-like in strength and temperament. It was harder to distract himself, his mind on one track at a time. It was frightening but also a little…comforting, to be able to complement his girlfriend by way of his own physiology. “Mmmm,” Scott hummed to himself as he regarded his body in the mirror. He scrutinized his broader shoulders, and the muscled expanse of his chest. “Mooo,” he noted. He didn’t know what he would say to Sam.

-

Sam thought her belly was the size of a beach ball. She strained beneath it, struggling as she waddled. Much as her fattening ass helped with balance, it wasn’t enough to stop her from wobbling awkwardly, huffing and breathless.

Her tits and udder felt pressurized that evening. She hoped that they wouldn’t leak. She felt as though she had only just milked them a short while ago.

Sam eased herself down on the large cushion of her ass, belly squashing her legs. She hissed as the pressure hit her udder. Her belly heaved with her breathlessness, and quavered with the pressure inside of it. Sam fidgeted and shifted continuously, trying to ease some of the pressure away from her swollen udder, but it was nearly impossible when she wasn’t standing up or lying down. She felt a build of pressure, her teats stiffening and her nipples aching. Her face flushing, she tried not to groan.

Sam was spending the night at her friend Tammy’s house, with two other friends. They had finished studying, and had decided to get into their pajamas.

Sam’s night dress was custom ordered. The neckline was low, showing off the plump expanse of cleavage of her upper breasts. The material was loose and silken, outlining her belly. It was short, covering her panties when she was standing, but at present, she could feel her udder bulging out in her seated position, the cool air drifting blissfully against the sweaty orb.

“I can’t believe Ted said that to her,” Jessica was telling Tammy.

“I know. He’s cute, but dumb. Though I don’t think Sarah minded.” They all chuckled.

“Hey,” said Jessica. “Has anyone noticed how hot Scott’s gotten lately? Has he started working out?”

“Careful Jess,” Penny piped in. “He’s been taken.” She gave a sly grin to Sam.

Sam was barely paying attention. She strained to smile.

“Oh, that’s right. How are things going with the two of you?” Tammy asked.

“Pretty well,” Sam offered acerbically.

“Must be so hard with your condition.” Penny gave her a commiserating look

“I’m doing okay.”

The conversation turned back to classes, and Sam was grateful that attention was shifted away from her. She was weary with the obligatory bouts of sympathy towards her. And she was admittedly distracted. She felt close to sprouting a leak. Her udder was tense, almost contracting in its tightness. It seemed it was time for another bathroom break.

Sam began to shift, trying to gradually maneuver herself on her feet, with the aid of the wall behind her. But as she did, she accidentally shoved her belly hard against her swollen udder. There was a short, sharp burning, as her teats sprayed milk outwards and directly into the faces of all her friends.

Sam gasped and leaned backwards, breathing heavily, chest heaving, her four nipples also beginning to leak as her udder oozed and spurted more gently, creating a small puddle on the floor.

Her friends had gone silent, everyone speechless. Tammy removed her glasses, her face dripping milk.

Cheeks burning, Sam attempted to apologize, but all that came out was, “Mmmmooooo!” Her whole face was hot. It looked as though she was mocking them, but she felt as though the joke was on her. “Moooo,” she said again, hoping to pacify. “Mmooooo…mmmmmm…moooooo…” It was controllable and mortifying. She was having more and more mooing episodes lately.

Her friends continued to stare at her in utter silence. To the side, Penny wiped a bit of milk from her cheek and licked it off her pointer finger.

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Comments (1)
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User #230963 - 31 Dec 19 06:59
I'm dearly hoping that taste of milk has a big effect on Penny...
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