Farrow, Part 20 (Patreon)

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Summary: Gina is impregnated with piglets. Contains: Female: Belly expansion, multiple breasts (3 pairs), breast expansion, and more. Spin-off of Piglets.

-

She felt full and lethargic. Her belly was gigantic. She looked as though she was due with quints by then.

“She’s very pink,” said a voice.

“Bring some ice,” said another.

Gina felt herself being dragged across the room, her legs barely heeding her commands to keep her upright. She was laid out across her office couch. She could make out Rhonda and a few others, one leaning over to press an ice pack to her cheek, and it was blissful.

Gina dozed, without care of her exposure, or those around her. When she awoke again, she didn’t open her eyes, but heard Jack’s familiar voice beside her.

“Subject 36B should be under surveillance, especially after exposure to the variable component,” he was saying. “Go monitor it now.”

“Yes sir,” said a male voice, before footsteps walked off. The office door opened and closed.

“Doctor, is there anything else you need in here?” said Rhonda.

“No, Rhonda,” Jack responded. “Though what kind of dose did Warren give her? Subject 43C shouldn’t have been unconscious for this long.”

Gina opened her eyes. Rhonda and Jack looked momentarily startled, but then both fixed their faces with their typical smiles, Rhonda’s mischievous, and Jack’s just goofily obnoxious.

“Did Rhonda just call you doctor?” said Gina drowsily.

Jack snorted a laugh. “You’re hearing things.” He vocalized Gina’s thoughts.

“Water?” said Rhonda, before walking off without waiting for an answer.

Jack helped her into a sitting position. She groaned. Her belly resembled a beachball against her lap, heaving her six breasts higher, while pushing her thighs apart. She felt immense, and didn’t imagine she could stand on her own. One hand cradled her rounded flank, which overflowed the rest of her. Her belly was wider than she was, probably larger than she was. She looked as though she had a grown man curled inside of her.

Rhonda returned with of glass of water. She helped Gina to sip some of it down.

“Looks like you had a big day today,” Jack said wryly.

Gina groaned again. Why couldn’t he just die?

She shifted her hips gingerly, trying to adjust herself, but no position proved any more comfortable than the last. Her back was tense and straining. She felt as though she could burst. She trailed her hands over her form, trying to properly survey the damage. Jack reached down and rubbed her across the shoulder blades, then lower.

“Oh!” he said. “Well this is new…”

Gina didn’t know what her husband was talking about, until his fingers slid lower, down to her tailbone, and they glided against—against something new and sensitive that made whole body stiffen, her belly jerking. She gasped for breath in pleasure and discomfort, truly feeling on the brink of capacity. “J-Jack—”

“It’s a little tail,” he apprised, thankfully withdrawing his hand. He looked nonplussed but unoffended. “A pig tail.”

Gina sagged, exhausted and defeated. What the hell had they done to her? She was huge and deformed.

She noticed she was dripping through all three of her bras she had outgrown, her six breasts bulging heavily over the strapless cups, as they barely managed to cling on. Each mound was like a honeydew in size, and in her seated position, they were squishing up against her chin. Despite the tightness of each bra, she could see her hard nipples sticking out like D-batteries against the moistening fabric.

“I can’t do this,” she moaned, struggling for some sort or leverage, but Jack held her shoulder, rubbing it, trying to pacify her.

“Easy.” He sat beside her.

Gina belatedly noticed that Rhonda was gone, the door closed behind her. Jack’s hand slid down and rubbed her breast, and though it was torturous, it was also somewhat of a relief and distraction from the tension of her belly which was full of lurching pressure.

He stroked her mound gently, causing it to quaver slightly. She arched with his gentle stroke, as the leaking worstened, until her upper most breasts gently popped fully out of the over-taxed bra cups.

When Jack leaned down to lick her nipple, Gina shuddered, but she tried not to allow the tension to shoot to her belly, where the pressure and tightness was almost to the brink of pain. Instead she tried to relax into his ministrations, allowing the fullness and heatedness of her engorged breasts to encompass her anxieties.

“Nggghhhhhh!” she grunted as Jack took a strong suck.

“It’s unprofessional to be seeping at work,” he told her playfully, and then continued to suckle from her upper most breasts.

He drained the left one, then moved on to the right—by which point she could feel the left one already building up again with the warm bloatedness that she had gotten accustomed to carrying around with her. Jack drank and drank. She didn’t even know where he found the room in his stomach. It was moments like these that reminded her why she had married Jack—detestable though he was sometimes. She had never thought that his characteristic lightheartedness would develop into such a detriment, and take her life to such an extreme. It was Jack’s fault that she was in this situation, and she wasn’t sure their marriage would survive. She supposed she would just have to wait and see. She would have to just have these—piglets. And see what became of her marriage.

After he finished with her upper right breast, Jack pulled back, and wiped his mouth with a smile. He had left her four other nipples hard and wanting, chest heaving, six mounds jiggling.

Jack got up and went to the shelf, lifting up the custom-made breast pump Rhonda had given her some days before. The contraption had six extra-large suction cups, with a huge plastic container attached.

“No…” Gina groaned, as Jack came over and began to tenderly undo her bras.

“C’mon, Gina, you need this,” he argued. “Besides, you have to. Think of the contract.”

It was odd that Jack would reference the contract that had started this whole thing, the one that stipulated that she was virtually enslaved to the lab, and obliged to indulge in whatever treatment they deemed necessary for her, devices included. It was almost as though Jack wasn’t on her side.

Too fatigued by then to put up much resistance, Gina allowed Jack to attach the suction cups to her lower four breasts. He flicked a switch, and the machine hummed, causing her to arch, squirm, and muffle her grunts as she was sucked and teased by the horrible machine to the point that she was sweaty and tingling, seeping into her panties.

-

She was swelling, ballooning, blowing up. Her nipples were thick and fat, areolas plump little mountains, like fat cupolas on her chest.

“Sir?” said Rhona, again addressing Jack with too much authority.

“Go get some wet towels.”

Gina was drifting in and out. She was being wheeled, and she could feel herself rolling, moving, she felt the cool air as they exited the building. But for the life of her, she couldn’t lift her eyelids. She felt so lethargic. So fat and languorous.

“You’re doing so good, sweetie,” Jack murmured against her ear.

There was a cool cloth lowered against her next. She shivered.

Gina squealed as she felt herself being heaved up by several strong hands. She was practically shoved into the back of a vehicle, a van, and quickly strapped down into her seat.

“We’re taking the weekend off,” Jack called out to someone.

“Understood,” a voice responded. “See you on Monday, sir.”

The car door slid shut. The drivers door opened and closed, then the van started and drove off.

-

The appearance of the curled pig-tail was no more traumatizing than the four extra breasts she had grown. Almost magically, a tail-hole had been stitched into all clothes. Gina wondered if she was becoming an actual pig.

Her skin was now pink—pig-pink. At first Jack had been concerned, but he seemed to have realized that she wasn’t flushed. This just seemed another part of her transformation. In the mirror, her nose looked wider, rounder, her nostrils more flared than before. She shuddered.

Jack just beamed at her, as loving as ever. He seemed fascinated and enamored when he should have been disgusted.

On Saturday she put on a casual dress. It was…pretty. With crisp yellow fabric, it fit her dimensions perfectly, hugging each of her curves with scientific accuracy, outlining every corner and crevice of her plump body.

As she surveyed her form in the mirror, she realized she could have been naked, with how aptly the material framed her. It was somewhat elastic, hugging into her, as though leaving room for growth. Despite how revealing it was, it was surprisingly comfortable, and made her feel good about herself. She supposed it was preferable to walking around in sweatpants and an ill-fitting T-shirt…that was, of course, if she could walk around.

She had descended to an awkward wobble, moving for short periods of time, before needing to take breaks, and often falling into extended naps. Any small exertion left her panting and sweaty. She could unzip herself through the front of the dress, and if she wasn’t pumped hourly, she would find herself squirting, then spraying.

She also noticed that her milk seemed to be getting thicker for some reason. She didn’t know whether it was a cause for concern, or what it really meant, really.

She was almost grateful for how large and round her backside had become. It seemed to aid with her balance, at least. She felt huge all around.

It was still hard for her to believe how she had transformed from a slim, petite woman, to a mammoth pink pig of a person who looked to the point of popping with offspring.

Her belly preceded her when she awkwardly wobbled around, trying to aim and maneuver the mass through passages and doorways, trying not to bump it into things as she misjudged her distance from them.

Jack would just smile or chuckle and shake his head. He would sit back on the couch and watch her awkward struggling. He would get up only to provide her with fat-shakes, or other continuous snacks, and she would obediently suck them down, only because she would feel starved otherwise.

“Come sit down.” Jack would sometimes say as he patted his thigh.

If she laid down on the couch, uncomfortable as it was, to rest her head in Jack’s lap, he would reach over and idly grope her, her breasts twinging, and tightening, pushing forward as though to receive his touch.

“I’m just…so uncomfortable…” she would grunt out, clutching her gut. Arbitrarily bulges would push to the surfaces—the outlines of her foul, lurching, pig-babies.

“Shush, honey, just try to rest,” Jack would urge her.

And she would do so.

-

She didn’t know when she would give birth, why she hadn’t yet, or if she was even ready for it. She just knew that she looked like a blimp. Her mobility was decreasing at an alarming rate and no one seemed concerned about it but her.

On her first day back to work, the outfit picked out for her was just a series of bandeaus and a blazer. Jack said she looked sexy. She just wanted to cry. But she got dressed in her resignation, the three black bandeaus hugging her three pairs of breasts, and the small blazer serving no purpose but to hang around her shoulders.

The bare exposure of her belly was practically obscene.

It was a pink globe of flesh with no blemishes whatsoever, perhaps accredited, in part, to the soft, fatty, layer of flesh that coated it—at least three inches, that outlined it, and reminded Gina of the dispiriting fact that she would probably still be considerably fat even when this was over.

The tight black knee-length skirt hugged her round ass and just added to the sensation of being a call girl. None of it could pass as professional. But Gina gathered what composure she could, clutched her belly, and waddled into that morning’s meeting.