Yacht (Patreon)

$20 Patreon Directory

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Rich had been enjoying spending the first month of his gap-year on friend Tim’s yacht.

Tim had been Rich’s roommate at boarding school, and Lana was Tim’s very sexy twin. All three were eighteen, and in celebration of graduation, they were enjoying a trip around the tropics with only the hired captain and a few servants as company.

Things had been going great. The days were spent sun bathing, swimming, fishing, visiting sea side towns, and occasionally, whale watching. It wasn’t until one afternoon, while Rich and Tim were scuba diving, that things took a downhill turn.

Rich had been exploring an underwater cave, when he came upon, funnily enough, a tentacle. He followed its length, thinking it might be a squid that he could capture and use to freak out Lana. But the tentacle was abnormally long, green, and smooth with no suction cups. It didn’t belong to any squid Rich had ever heard of. As he waded deeper into the cave, several more tentacles shot out and wrapped around him. Soon Rich was being pulled, twisted, and bent at unnatural angles. His legs were drawn up to his head, and his mouthpiece dislodged. One tentacle plunged into his mouth, another sliding up his thigh. Then there was entrance, and pleasure, then…blackness. When Rich came to, he was back on the yacht, the captain giving him chest compressions, and both twins standing over him with horrified looks on their impeccable faces.

“You’re alive!” said Tim in relief.

Rich coughed up a mouthful of water.

Apparently he had almost drowned. The captain had seen him floating around near the back of the boat without the scuba gear, and had promptly fished him out.

Rich was draped in a soft fluffy towel and given hot cocoa. He sat on the deck and sighed as he watched Tim complain that he had spilled caviar on his Versace bathrobe, and Lana flounced about in a skimpy bikini. Life was good.

It wasn’t until that evening that Rich noticed the slight swell of his lower belly.

As the days passed, Rich’s stomach continued to grow. At times he had weird flashbacks of the tentacle invading him, of it releasing something inside of him. He held his stomach in unease. Surely he was just imagining things.

But with every day, Rich’s “weight gain” continued to exacerbate, and remained concentrated to his belly. He stopped going topless, instead wearing tank tops, and refusing to go back into the water.

He felt confused, awkward, and embarrassed. By then he had a reasonably large beer gut, and he had to fold his arms and hunch forward to vaguely conceal it. All of his tops were becoming too small, and it wasn’t as though he could just buy new ones. The day he saw that his belly button had popped out, he knew he was fucked.

Tim and Lana were annoyed by Rich’s refusal to do anything vaguely physical. They gave him odd looks as they began to notice the way his shirts stretched against his form, and the way his belly was beginning to push out from beneath the hem, in a way that was impossible to hide.

When he was alone in his room, Rich rubbed his belly in unease. It had only been two weeks, and he looked as though he was heavily pregnant.

Then came the day that Tim pushed him off the boat.

Rich had been wearing shorts, and his biggest tank top, which was still almost painfully tight on him. It took a great deal of struggle, and aid from a butler, to get himself back onto the boat. He resigned his efforts to conceal his figure—his swollen ass, B-cup breasts, and nine-month-swollen belly, his clothes pasted to him by moisture, making him look like an absolute cow.

The twins gawked.

“I…um…” Rich choked out, mortified. “…that day we went scuba diving two weeks ago, something…er…something happened to me,” he admitted, unconsciously cupping his abdomen.

It was round and full, but plump, offering resistance, as though there was still room for growth.

Rich did not mention this. In fact, he didn’t give any details on what had actually happened, of the tentacles, the intrusion. He didn’t admit that on some instinctual level, he knew he was pregnant, and that he wasn’t anywhere near ready to give birth.

The ship was turned around, the captain leading them straight home, but they were still two weeks off from the motherland, and medical treatment. Rich did his best to relax.

Tim alternated between avoiding him and goggling at him. Lana awkwardly tried to pamper him, but he implored her to leave him alone.

Instead he lounged on deck, rubbing his gut, as it throbbed and heaved in gentle growths. He grunted slightly, and shifted, as it tightened. Just a little bigger. But it was okay. He had time yet to grow.