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Summary: Violet’s roommate secretly doses her with experimental drugs, causing Violet’s stomach to progressively transform into a giant breast. Violet is oblivious and horrified as to what is happening to her body. In the meantime, her roommate secretly documents the transformation. Contains: Female: belly expansion, breast expansion, belly-breast, and more.

Previous Chapter

-

Alex felt humiliated.

She found herself locked in the laundry room, breathing heavily, her mind reeling from the knowledge that she was bigger than Becca. Becca, who was almost at term with fucking twins.

Alex thought of all the amused smiles, the inside jokes, and the eye-rolls she and Milton had exchanged at Becca’s expense. Becca would whine that she was “as big as a house,” to which Alex would mouth “bigger,” causing Milton to snort in silent laughter.

Now Alex was starting to wonder if she herself was the one who had been the butt of all these jokes. Alex had wanted to think she was imagining it, but she had seen the comparison with her own two eyes. With her abdomen pressed to Becca’s, it had been abundantly clear that Alex’s was bigger.

Alex supposed it was true that most people had no perspective of the size of their own bodies. Milton would have noticed. But had he mentioned anything?

Alex inhaled deeply, then pushed the air out of her lungs. She took several more long breaths, trying to temper her humiliation. She supposed this was karma. She had been the one making the jokes, after all.

Alex pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes, trying to steadily calm herself down. Her navel was nudging against the washing machine where she stood, the metallic surface pleasantly cool even through the T-shirt stretched over Alex’s form.

This was stupid. Why was she freaking out over something so dumb? Who the hell cared about how she compared to Becca? It was such an arbitrary comparison. It wasn’t as if Alex didn’t know she was fucking massive. Her hand trembled slightly as she palmed the side of the huge swell of her belly. She choked out a bitter laugh as her eyes drifted over the surrounding paraphernalia. They paused on a drying rack, where she saw a single piece of clothing hanging crisp there, probably since the day before. It was Becca’s. It was some sort of —girdle. For her pregnancy. Alex reached out, fingers closing around the freshly washed material, confirming that it was completely dry now.

Alex could tell that the material was stretchy. She lifted it from the rack, bringing it closer, holding it up to herself. She wasn’t sure why, but she found herself undoing the latches, and stretching it across her protruding swell. Albeit round, her belly-breast was very soft and malleable, always jiggling and wobbling as her back arched and strained to support it. As with some of Becca’s other pregnancy-specific attire and gadgets, this contraption certainly intrigued Alex. She found herself wrapping the girdle around her own waist, gingerly at first, but then with effort as she stretched it, trying to fit it across the full extent of her mass. If it suited Becca, then certainly it would fit her.

Alex groaned, twisting and straining as she tried to get the clasps to connect. She probably should have emptied herself first. That would have done it. But she was sure she could just — “Errgghhh…” she groaned, her milk-filled belly shuddering, as if to protest her efforts to confine it.

God, she was close. Just another inch and — Alex grunted as all five of her nipples pulsed, the one at her core tensing and aching, getting ready to release against the pressure. She stumbled back against the wall, refusing to relinquish this task, because she was so close. Her face reddened as her belly warmed and tightened, the four breasts wobbling on her chest already leaking persistent droplets of milk.

The sound of a shriek caused Alex to freeze. The girdle snapped away from her, then dropped to the floor. Panting, she waddled to the laundry room door, her hands cradling her packed belly to keep it from bobbing too excessively. “Becca?” Alex gasped out as she opened the door, stumbling out of the laundry room.

Becca responded with a whining noise somewhere down the hall, maybe in the living room. “Alex,” she cried out, her voice thick with pain. “Oh god, I think —ngghhhhhh —I’m in labor!”

-

Milton met them at the hospital. He had Becca taken to a luxury maternity wing with large, private suites reserved for public figures, celebrities, and ultra-wealthy families. Becca was attended to by a swarm of the best OB-GYNs in the city. Despite all the thrashing, cursing, screaming, and writhing, she had a surprisingly fast labor, her twins arriving in only six hours.

While Milton stayed by her side for the whole process, Alex hung back, rather uncomfortable between the frequent stares she got from the surrounding doctors and nurses, to that perpetual, physical discomfort that filled her body. She excused herself to the bathroom several times, where she could breathe, cup herself, or sometimes dig her pumps out of her satchel and offer herself a little relief from the mounting tension. She felt overheated, her body drenched in sweat. Which was unsurprising, given that Alex was wearing a massive baggy jacket that would have been amorphous on anyone else, but still rather framed her abnormalities. It was just another feeble attempt to hide what had become of her. Honestly, she was not sure why she bothered.

Alex leaned down and splashed her face with cool water, groaning as her tender belly-nipple pressed against the edge of the porcelain sink. The four breasts stacked on her chest were hot and bloated, aching for attention. She found that she was attending to those with decreasing frequency as the demands of her belly-breast grew more intense by the day. Dealing with her over-laden body almost felt like a full-time job. It was a good thing she didn’t have an actual job, Alex supposed.

With a sigh, she pushed herself out of the bathroom, and returned to Becca’s suite, trying to look pleasant and invisible at the same time. Alex was relieved to see that the doctors and nurses had all left by then, offering Becca some privacy. Milton stood beside the bed, gazing fondly at Becca as she cradled two little pink bundles of blankets in her arms.

Alex could not help smiling as she joined Milton at the bedside. Becca looked enamored by her sleeping newborns. “Congratulations,” Alex said softly.

Becca raised her head to beam at her, tears visible in the corners of her eyes. She looked beautiful. Alex could not help noticing how Becca’s body had changed, her abdomen no longer looking inflated under the sheets pulled over her. There may have still been a little weight there, but she had otherwise gone back to normal. She had shed the weight the twins had added to her body, and had returned to being a slim, flexible, wholly-functional young woman.

Alex felt a twinge of jealousy. Which was ridiculous. There was no comparison. It was not as though Alex could just take her weight off. Even if she somehow got all the gallons of milk she was carrying pumped out of her, there was still a huge amount of flesh, fat, and, Alex supposed, glandular tissue, that made up her breasts. Not to mention that it would all rapidly fill up again with even more milk. There would be no reprieve. This was just what she was now.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” Becca asked, her voice thick. Alex opened her mouth to respond, but then she saw one of the twins stir, mouth opening wide, face scrunching adorably.

 Then the baby started to cry: a hoarse, squalling noise. Alex’s heart raced, her eyes widening as she felt — “Nrrgghhhh…” she groaned as all five of her nipples started to sting, then an unbelievable pressure pulsed through all her mounds, flesh tightening, straining, and pushing out.

Her jacket started hugging into her as Alex puffed out a breath, hunching forward as she clutched her massive belly-breast. It was growing. Her heart pounded in her ears as the wails of the infant continued to reverberate off her skull. Soon the other twin joined in, Alex’s belly achingly tight, milk gushing into her jacket as her mounds continued to throb with growth.

Becca and Milton were gaping at her in shock. Alex’s jacket started to tear, her back arching, her abdomen tensing painfully, pushing and tightening, growing bigger and wider, feeling ready to burst from the surges of milk rapidly blooming inside of it.

Somehow, Alex managed to stagger towards the door. “I –” she choked out, “— h-have to…” But she did not bother to finish her sentence. She had to get out of there, away from the crying. They were hungry. Alex whimpered as a quaver rolled through her mountainous belly, the four honeydews on her chest bobbing and squirting in tandem.

She got herself out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her. She moaned deliriously as she stumbled a few steps down the hall, holding onto the wall. Then she leaned back against it, gasping for breath, and compulsively stroking and cradling her huge belly-breast where it now protruded free of her soaking jacket which was split right down the middle.

The sweater and shirt she had on were drawn up, no longer fully-covering the globe. A passing nurse gave her a disturbed look. Fluid was dripping from Alex’s top, and she knew she was making a puddle on the floor.

Still gasping for breath, Alex somehow straightened herself and resumed walking —waddling. She shuffled to the elevator, gripping what she could of her jacket around herself. In a daze, she descended, and found the exit, ignoring the people who gawked, stumbled, or just made way, as though afraid she might touch them. The car was pulled up at the pickup area.

“Milton notified me that you were on your way down, miss,” said the driver neutrally, keeping his eyes forward as Alex clambered into the back of the vehicle.

Alex did not respond, she just tried to breathe, acutely aware of how much heavier she felt now; how much more awkward everything had become abruptly. The back of Milton’s luxury car had never felt so cramped as it did at that moment, Alex’s massive belly-breast perched on her thighs, overfilling her lap. She felt squashed beneath it. It was so huge; it was taking over.

That morning she had been bigger than Becca. Becca, who had been due with twins. So how did Alex look now? As though she was pregnant with triplets? Quads? Alex gave a weak, bitter laugh. Then she just resumed breathing, trying to calm herself down. Calm her body down. A call came through on the intercom. “You there?” Milton’s voice said.

“Yeah,” Alex managed, rolling her eyes. She slumped back in her seat.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his tone aloof.

“Peachy.”

There was a pause. “That’s never happened before,” Milton noted.

“Yeah, well none of this has happened before,” Alex motioned to her body even though Milton couldn’t see her. “There’s not exactly a case study.” She grimaced at another twinge of pressure. She hurriedly tried to clear her mind; not think about Becca or anything. “Mgghhh…”

Milton snorted. “I’ll be down in a couple minutes.” Then the call disconnected.

A couple of minutes. Alex briefly humored the idea of convincing the driver to just take her home without waiting for Milton. But it seemed like this enterprise would require more energy than Alex had to offer. So instead, she simply dropped her head back and closed her eyes.

-

Alex was wiped out. It seemed like her body was in overdrive. Everything was hazy, even when Milton spoke, giving her a once-over every couple seconds with an odd look on his face. She would nod but did not really hear him. As soon as they got home, she went to bed and fell asleep, even with her milk continuing to gush into her straining clothing.

When Alex awoke some hours later, she was surprised to find an appropriately-sized suction cup attached to each of her nipples: likely Milton’s doing. It was surprisingly considerate, and Alex certainly appreciated it. The pump was humming away beside her, extracting milk at a comfortable rhythm.

She shoved herself upright, wincing as she plucked the cups away, one by one. It took some effort to heave herself off the bed, after which she pulled on the biggest shirt she could find, then shuffled out of the room, supporting what she could of her lower belly with her hands. I’m enormous, Alex thought, feeling overwhelmed with the soft, pillowy mass protruding from her body.

Milton was seated in the living room with a glass of wine. He had just finished a phone call when Alex walked in. He gazed at her, his lips quirked in amusement. “Look at you.”

“Yeah,” she breathed.

“Maybe you should borrow some of Becca’s maternity clothes,” he said facetiously.

“Shut up.” Alex reddened, her mind drifting back to her antics in the laundry room. But with how heavy this thing was getting, it didn’t seem like a bad idea to wear a girdle.

“That was actually her on the phone. I think she’s having some issues, or more like…reservations. I have no clue if she was joking, but she wanted to know if you have interest in donating some of your time or resources.”

Alex froze. Something bubbled inside of her, her face growing hot. “I’m not some fucking wet nurs—” Just saying it was triggering. Alex felt dizzy, her belly tensing. She tried to take retreat, but just ended up clutching an end-table to keep her balance.

“Yeah, it’s stupid. Ignore her,” Milton said, standing. He looked entirely relaxed as he approached, closing in. “She’s not blessed like you are.”

“You’re b-both idiots,” Alex stammered, but suddenly she couldn’t help smiling a little. At least Milton had broken the tension and disrupted the mental and physical landslide she had been headed down.

“The goods are only for me. I get it.”

“Fuck off.” On the contrary, he kissed her, Alex leaning in. And from there life proceeded sans one high-pitched interloper.

Next Chapter

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