Surrogate, Part 4 - Male Version (Patreon)

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Surrogate on DeviantArt

Summary: Connor gets a job as a tutor and unknowingly becomes a surrogate mother. Contains: Male: belly expansion, breast expansion, alien pregnancy, lactation.

Note: This is the male version of Surrogate.

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Once he had clambered up onto the bathroom counter, Connor was able to fit his head and shoulders through the window. His breasts were next, nipples lightly catching on the frame as they visibly wiggled within his top. Finally, his round belly slowly slid through, stopping just before his navel could proceed through the window.

Contorting his face, Connor pushed himself forward, attempting to squeeze his bloated body through the window frame. His face reddened as his already taut belly felt tighter and tighter the more of it he squeezed through. He knew that if he could get his navel past the window frame, the rest would be easy. His navel was his greatest width at that point. But at present, it was still two or three inches away from passing the frame.

Connor was breathless by then, and in a bit of pain. He gasped for air, his loins tingling strangely. And he was beginning to feel faint, like he might pass out right there. He attempted to back out, but found himself stuck. “Hahhhh…hahhhh…” he panted, trying not to panic. Connor wriggled his body as much as he could in his efforts to dislodge himself from the window. He didn’t know how he had gotten himself so adequately jammed there. It was like he had gotten fatter in just the few moments since he had tried to fit through.

After several minutes of struggling yielded no results, Connor grunted in pain, the window only seeming to get tighter around him. Trying his best to collect his composure, he deeply inhaled, pushed as much air as he could out of his abdomen. Then with a sharp jerk, he thrusted himself backwards.

Somehow he managed to free his body from the window. He nearly toppled over the edge of the counter from the momentum, but he managed to grab onto the faucet at the last minute.

Connor’s belly heaved up and down as he panted. He slid his top up to rub at the indentations made on his belly by the window frame. Plump and bloated as he was, he really did look like a heavily pregnant person. It amazed and disturbed him. This definitely isn’t normal, Connor thought.

Too bad he couldn’t do anything about it. He was confined within the house with no source of communication with the outside world. Even the windows would not accommodate him. His circumstances, and his size, had rendered him trapped.

His heart pounding, Connor eased himself off the counter. He slid his top back down, and examined himself in the bathroom mirror—mused over how much tighter the clothing seemed on him than it had that morning.

His breast growth had rendered his bra useless. Connor reached into the neckline of his top and unlatched the thing. The apparel dropped down, at his ankles. Still, his breasts were round and perk, with no need for support. Except for his nipples, which were large, and visibly bulging against the wet fabric, sticking out prominently, looking like coke caps, and more sensitive than Connor had ever imagined they could be.

They continued to seep into the material of his shirt, making the fabric wetter, causing it to stick to him more tightly, and his nipples to look as though they were tunneling through. The material was so formfitting, he might as well have not been wearing anything at all.

Connor continued to rub circles on the bloated mound of his belly. He now looked as though he was due with twins, and he was not sure when this change had occurred. He felt heavy and uncomfortably bloated, his insides lurching. He released a quiet groan.

What is going on in there? was all he could wonder, growing concerned. If he got any bigger, he feared he might just burst.

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Holding his belly, Connor waddled over to the bathroom door. He opened it, and gasped in surprise. There were three children standing just outside.

Connor had never noticed…in fact, he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t …but the children never seemed to talk. Not even the older ones. They made no noises, and seemed virtually mute.

Connor tilted his head to the side. “Have any of you seen your mommy and daddy?” he breathed out playfully.

In response, the children stared at him blankly, as they always did. But now it was almost eerie. Swallowing, Connor waddled forward. The children stepped aside, clearing the way for him. They were as well-behaved as could be.

In the living room, Connor tried the home phone line yet again, pressing numbers in spite of the dead line. “Hello, hello?” he said in his state of desperation. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic. Connor heaved deep breaths, in and out. Finally, he lowered the phone and leaned back on the couch.

As usual, the children had crowded around him and taken to staring. Connor stared back, feeling some sweat form on his temple. He ran his hands up and down his plump mound. His nipples ached and continued to seep, the patch of wetness in the front of his shirt now having spread down to his navel.

As Connor breathed, and watched the children, something strange occurred, just for a moment. His vision blurred, and for a fleeting instant, in place of the children appeared a squelching mass of squiggling green limbs. Almost like—tentacles. But Connor blinked hard, and everything was back to normal. His imagination must have been getting the better of him. The sixteen children were lined up with their blank, expectant faces. Connor couldn’t figure out what they wanted. “Ugghhhh…” he groaned, as his belly lurched within. It only seemed to be getting tighter. He desperately rubbed and kneeded it with his hands.

His stomach growled not just audibly—the entire mass seemed to rumble, and the tightness within became a twinging pain. Panting, Connor cradled his belly. He then gripped the arm of the couch, and with a good deal of effort, he heaved himself up to his feet.

As usual, the children cleared the way. Connor waddled towards the kitchen, grunting as his stomach growled again. He opened the door of the large, industrial fridge, and took in the many shelves of prepared food practically pouring out of it.

Relinquishing any remaining control he’d had over himself, Connor dug in. He desperately gripped loaves of bread and handfuls of cold cuts, wolfing it all down. His fingers sunk into pans of cool pastas, rotisserie chickens, baked hams—even a tub of butter. Connor stuffed it all down as quickly as he could.

When there was nothing left, he found himself knelt before the fridge, gasping for breath. His hands, face, and clothes were covered in smears and bits of food.

Connor released a belch and groaned.

By then his shirt had slid up a good deal to expose the smooth underside of his mass. His belly button was massive, and looked as though it was visibly throbbing. “Oh god,” he groaned as he gripped the fridge door for balance.

His sweatpants somewhat in the back, as though his bottom had plumpened as well. And his large breasts were perched on his belly. They felt full and heavy, and were terribly sore. They seeped freely, so much that the material of his shirt was starting to drip where his huge nipples were evidently protruding. That had to be DDD-cups by then. Bloated, round, heavy DDDs.

It took a while for Connor to carefully climb back up to his feet. Once he was standing, his belly only felt more pressurized, his back straining to support the mass. “Ohhhhh…” Connor moaned as his shirt tightened more, the hem sliding up, his belly button bulging. He could physically feel his mass tightening, growing, straining his body and pushing forward until he felt like he might collapse.

Connor somehow managed to stagger back into the living room where he dropped himself against the couch. There he zoned in and out, not quite conscious and not quite asleep.

There was throbbing, almost the sensation of pulsations running through his bloated mounds. There was a heated tingling washing over his backside, a pressure within, and a burning heat that ran through his chest and stomach. Sweat soaked through his clothes until they were sticking to every contour of his body. In his stomach, there were twists and turns as he imagined something just beyond his anal opening, pushing out between his cheeks. Something sleek and sinuous, protruding, twisting, turning, thick, coily, limb after limb, exiting, protruding, pushing his briefs.

Connor gasped awake.

The room was dark. It was night time. Looking around, he could tell that the children were not around. Had they put themselves to bed? It wouldn’t be surprising.

Connor struggled a bit, and only partly sat up. He gulped as he surveyed himself. He looked as though he was due with quadruplets, his belly button resembling a tennis ball in size. His breasts were huge, nipples beginning to look like thick batteries, and they so terribly sensitive, they made him tremble every time he moved.

His shirt was failing him, having slid up enough that his belly popped out.

Connor could only shake his head in silent denial. What was happening to him?

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