Tail, Part 11 (Patreon)

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Summary: Following an extended disappearance, Ryan develops a growing tail, which reveals the ability to ingest things, produce things, and act of its own accord. Contains: Male: pregnancy, breast expansion, alien impregnation, tail, stuffing, weight gain, birth.

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“Oh god,” said Ryan, as the tail continued to attack his chest, sucking until it was almost painful. The tail’s greedy mouth moved onto his other dripping nipple, and Ryan realized that it was suckling, actually drawing milk. He whimpered.

Finally the tail finished, and pulled away. The mounds on Ryan’s chest were flushed, his nipples considerably erect. But the bloated flesh felt less full than before, now softer, less uncomfortable. He had been engorged.

Ryan shook his head in silent denial as his heaving chest started to tingle. He lifted his gaze to the tail, which was swinging before him forebodingly. Sometimes it would glide almost threateningly towards his chest again, as if to assure him that it would feed whenever it wanted. From wherever it wanted. And whether Ryan liked it or not.

Still quietly panting, Ryan slid his hand up to his chest. They resembled women’s breasts by then. Large A-cups. Perhaps small Bs when they were full. He groaned in disgust.

Feeling nervous about the way the tail was lurking near his sore nipples, Ryan heaved himself up with some minutes of struggle, then waddled off to get the tail some food.

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The arrival of the package of maternity clothes did nothing for Ryan’s uneasiness. Nearly half of his belly bulged out beneath the hems of the stretchy dark shirts. He looked overdue with quadruplets by then, after all.

The neckline was notably lower than it would have been for a male’s shirt, revealing a hint of...cleavage...and making Ryan uncomfortably aware that his chest had bloated some since that morning. He folded his arms over it, sore as it was. He waddled about, his belly swinging and his back twinging uncomfortably. Sometimes he would clutch at the underside of his great mound, but this did little to help with its weight.

His cleavage line was...deepening...his chest feeling hot and tingly, his nipples aching almost...keenly, as he panted and tried to distract himself from how needy he felt, and how delightful it might be to glide his fingers against the hard nubs.

He tried to keep the tail distracted by a constant stream of small foods, regretful as he tightened with every morsel it swallowed, until Ryan was so stuffed, he was nearly passing out. He slumped down on the couch, his belly bobbing as he shifted uncomfortably, his swollen belly button protruding outward prominently, much the way his nipples were. Finally his limbs resigned, and he slumped back listlessly, his belly rising and falling with his heavy breathing.

Not missing a beat, the tail dove for his neckline, drawing it down until his young breasts popped out. They were definite Bs by then, maybe larger. His dark pink nipples began to drip as though in anticipation the moment they were freed from the fabric.

Ryan groaned out in discomfort even before the tail latched on. He squirmed and murmured indecipherably, urging it to be easy, take care, slow down.

When it was over, his chest mounds were softer, but still sure B-cups. Ryan surveyed them absently, still allowing them to protrude over the neckline of his shirt.

Though the mounds were no longer engorged, they still had a round fullness to them, looking fat and healthy, and beautifully perk. They pressed together gently, making a plump line of cleavage. Were these breasts attached to a woman, they would have been beyond perfect. Instead they were attached to Ryan, and he was at a loss as to why.

They were tingling. That meant he was producing, didn’t it? That the mounds were gradually filling in preparation of the tail’s next session of indulgence.

Ryan pulled at his neckline and uneasily tucked the mounds back in. His fingers glided gently beneath his breasts, to the flat line of his ribs, reminding Ryan of how startling thin he had been mere weeks ago. His fingers continued down several inches before hitting the start of his belly, a sharp protrusion where it jutted out from his small frame, illogically large, wider than he was. It was a wonder how he still managed to support the massive mound of fat.

Ryan absently stroked it with his hands over his tangerine-sized navel. He shifted his gaze to his silently playing television and found himself licking his lips as a fast food commercial came on. The tail waved around in agreement. For some reason, he was deeply craving meat.

Ryan turned off the TV, trying to shake the thought from his mind. After a few attempts, he managed to heave himself off the couch. He gripped his lower back and wobbled his way to the kitchen. He fed the tail generous portions of berries, cottage cheese, cucumber slices, and even a few small apples. He gripped the fridge door as he was assaulted by hunger pains. It still wasn’t enough.

Ryan found himself gravitating towards the phone, and before he knew it, he had called up the nearby catering company. In hurried tones, he ordered a variety of indulgent things—mashed potatoes soaked in butter sauce with a large side of gravy, creamy macaroni and cheese, mozzarella salad in vegetable oil, and finally, he ordered the centerpiece, feeling himself salivate as he forced the words past his lips.

“The baked ham, with the fat—no, everything attached. No trimming necessary.”

When Ryan hung up the phone, he was somehow shocked by what had just transpired. He told himself to call the catering company back, to cancel the order, but for some reason, he just couldn’t. His heart raced as he returned to the couch. He found himself consistently glancing up at the clock, and beginning to sweat.

When the doorbell rang, Ryan didn’t hesitate. He struggled a bit, before heaving himself off the couch, gripping what he could of his massive mound, and waddling his way to the front door.

Two men carrying covered trays entered, and Ryan waved feebly to the table, even as the strangers stared at him with blank looks on their faces, one of them freezing in place.

Before he knew it, Ryan’s kitchen table was loaded up with the trays. Ryan distractedly handed one of the delivery men some bills, before practically pushing them both out of the house. He could hardly control the tail, where it was wrapped around his waist, twitching madly. He didn’t care how much of his alien body he had left on display in his ill-fitting apparel. None of it seemed to matter anymore. All that he cared about was the food.

The moment the door closed, Ryan staggered to the kitchen, and the tail dove into the deep tray of macaroni and cheese. Ryan moaned indulgently, his face reddening and his gender hardening as lump after lump of pasta worked its way up the length of the tail and pushed inside of him. His knees quavering by then, Ryan lowered himself to his knees on the hard kitchen floor, bracing himself with his hands, and allowing his belly to press hard down on the cold linoleum as he panted, his belly throbbing, as every piece of macaroni, and every drop of thick cheese sauce, was rapidly pumped into his stomach.

As the tail dove into the mozzarella salad, Ryan savored the familiar sensation of his belly becoming firmer. He groaned in pleasure as his back twinged in pain, and he arched it, pressing his belly harder into the floor, even as the pressure increased uncomfortably, as blob after blob of mozzarella was easily pushed inside of him, there must have been at least ten pounds of the heavy Italian cheese.

Ryan was panting heavily by then, a strand of drool falling freely down his chin. He pawed for his cock, though he could hardly reach it by then. Instead he rocked abortively, allowing it to freely jab against the underside of his gut, his chest heaving, breasts wiggling, and nipples stinging, goodness, they must have been C-cups. “Ohhh!” Ryan choked out, as he felt the tail begin to work on the potatoes.

He couldn’t see it so much as he could feel it, and somehow taste it in the back of his throat. He experienced as each lump of buttery potatoes that was pumped inside of his body. Ryan was dripping sweat, his clothes soaked in it, and he finally had to ease some of his weight off his belly. It was getting really tight by then. He grunted out in discomfort, his hips rocking more gently, the tail pumping him ceaselessly. He was getting close.

The potatoes and gravy were finished in record timing, and suddenly only the ham was left. “Oh god…” Ryan was suddenly having a change of heart. He was so full already. “Wait,” he said, fruitlessly trying to move, to lift his weight, and carry it away from the kitchen. But he was too weak, too lethargic by then. And his belly was just so heavy. God, the pressure was immense.

He cupped the side of it, his belly button pulsing, even starting to ache a bit. His belly was firm and round, perched there on the kitchen floor. He was propped on his bottom by then, legs spread wide, his rock hard penis squashed yet painfully jabbing, smearing the underside of his mass with pre-come.

“Nggghhhh…” Ryan groaned. He looked up at the massive ham—hog-tied, with the head and legs attached, a baked apple between its teeth. It also looked to be stuffed. The ham was truly plump, and fat, and overwhelming. Now the tail was rising high above it, its dimpled opening widening, stretching, again reminding Ryan of a snake opening its jaw for something gigantic. “Wait!” Ryan tugged down his neckline and pinched his nipple, hoping to lure the tail as a fat droplet of milk pushed free. “Don’t—”

But Ryan was helpless as the tail slammed down on the ham.

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