Farrow, Part 22 (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.

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Gina failed at her third attempt to get up. She stared down at herself, panting. Her skin was periodically tensing, pushing out in spots, in rhythm with the squirming spawn inside of her. It made her squeamish. She tried not to look at it.

Her breasts were tight, flushed, and heaving, pressed together, as fat as volleyballs by then. “Nghhh…” She knew she would spring a leak at any moment. The pressure was getting to be too much for her.

Unable to stand the discomfort of being so utterly full, her hand twitched, then clamped down on the her lowest right breast, giving an indulgent squeeze. Her nipple tensed, then squirted a forceful stream of milk over the desk. She panted, and gave herself another squeeze, almost sobbing from the pleasure of it, hardly recalling that she was at her workplace, just savoring the relief.

She was soaked by the time she was through with herself. She rummaged through her desk drawer and pulled out a tank top, which she stretched over her torso. It barely covered her third pair of breasts, and completely left her huge belly exposed. She briefly entertained the concept of asking Rhonda to bring her a spare outfit, but then dismissed the notion. She doubted that anything Rhonda produced would be any less revealing than what she had already settled for.

Six damp spots began to form on the tank top over each of her six breasts, her hugely distended nipples pushing hard against the wet material. Even despite the floor and desk being soaked in her milk, she was still producing a steady seep of it. But she wasn’t painfully tight to the point of spraying anymore, so she considered it an improvement. Besides, the lab had done this to her. Surely they could deal with a few damp spots. Gina abruptly felt resigned about a lot of things. She simply didn’t care anymore. She couldn’t even bring herself to be embarrassed. Instead, she was numb.

All this time the lab had been holding her unborn child over her, as a sort of hostage as she was forced to endure her bizarre transformation. Yet all the scientists at the lab were painstakingly tight-lipped about her child’s status. The dilemma lazily turned in her head.

There was a light tapping on her doorframe. “You’re running late for your physical,” said Rhonda, raising her brows at the soggy paperwork and damp carpeting.

Right. Her weekly physical. Gina planted her hands against her desktop, and found herself struggling, truly struggling, to get up. It took several attempts, Rhonda staring in morbid interested at Gina grunted, flushed, and squirmed, until she had managed to heave herself up onto quavering legs. Even then, she felt like she might capsize.

Rhonda hesitated, and went to the corner of the room, where the walker was standing. The one that looked as though it had been designed specifically for Gina.

“Try this,” said Rhonda, pushing the walker over. She took a moment to eye Gina’s less-than-professional choice of attire.

Panting heavily, Gina took hold of the walker, because she had few other choices. She felt on the brink of collapse.

It took some awkward fidgeting to maneuver the immense weight of her belly against the low, padded seat. She groaned and sagged against the straining device. It was the first time in weeks that she was relieved of the weight of her girth. She gazed down at the massive bolder of her belly, puffing out heavy breaths of air.

“Better?” Rhonda grinned.

It was, but Gina ignored her. She took a few moments to catch her breath, before she began to gingerly shift the walker towards the door, feeling like an old person.

She made it to the seventh-floor exam room where she usually had her weekly physicals, and pretended to be polite and well-mannered as she was pressed, and prodded, and endured the usual inquires about her physical state. Yes, the grips are helpful, Gina claimed. I do appreciate the walker, she said. She didn’t want to rouse suspicions, and no one paid her any mind when she shifted her way back out of the exam room.

Level seven was where the lab conducted its most secretive experiments—or just hid them away—and Gina wanted—needed—to know about her child’s status.

But level seven was expansive. Gina quickly found herself lost. She had made so many turns down pristine corridors and poked her head into so many generic exam and meeting rooms, it was all starting to look the same, and she had no concept of where the elevator was.

She was red, sweaty, and beginning to tremble from the exertion of having to carry herself, even with the aid of the walker. Gina opened the latest door, and was so relieved to see a couch, she released a small laugh. Shoving the walker forward, a few inches at a time, she slowly made her way over to the large, purple-leather soft. It didn’t look too comfortable, and was surprisingly gaudy for such an advanced facility, but she would take what she could get. She carefully slid her plump ass back, before collapsing down on the leather, yelping as the weight of her belly-orb knocked against her. She struggled to breathe, her tank top so sweaty that it was transparent by then.

Gina slumped back, absently surveying herself—how her six massive pink nipples stuck out creating hard, pink splotches against the wet material. How her breasts were so round despite being so large, stacked against each other, in a wobbling, disorderly, pile. How her massive bolder of a belly was so heavy that her thighs were already going numb at that moment.

Her attention shifted about the office, and she took in the other odds and ends as she tried to gather her bearings.

The room was childish in certain aspects. On the self, there were antiquated scientific journals texts, but also unopened action figures—collectibles, she knew. Jack had the same questionables taste. Worse, that brand of figures hardly ever seemed to increase in value.

The desk was not piled with papers as hers was, but meticulously tidy and organized. There were a few potted plants about the room, but most were dried up…dying. The office’s owner seemed to have very specific priorities.

The thing in the office that really gave Gina pause was the name plate on the desk, announcing its owner.

Dr. Jack Smith

How odd. This couldn’t be Jack’s office. As far as she knew, Jack didn’t have an office. He was just a lab tech, after all.

Gina surmised that the office belonged to a scientist who coincidentally shared both Jack’s first and last name. But as she thought more about the room, the plants, the action figures, and the gaudy furniture, the more evident that it became that it all fit her husband perfectly.

Except for the organized state of the desk. Jack wasn’t organized, at least as far as she knew. He was an overgrown child and a loveable idiot…well, not so loveable lately. Which brought her back to the matter at hand. Dr. Jack Smith. “What the fuck,” she murmured aloud.

How could Jack be a doctor? Unless he’d been keeping is secret from her all this time. But Jack was an idiot. It didn’t make sense. Maybe Jack just created fraudulent paperwork to get a scientist position at the lab—that seemed more in league with his capabilities. But if Jack’s employers thought he was a doctor, why did he consistently dress like a lab tech and take on the duties of a lab tech? In fact, Gina frequently witnessed other lab personnel ordering him around, hence, even treating him like a lab tech.

This brought her to one conclusion. Both Jack and his employers were presenting Jack as a lab tech, even though he had an office in the most elite section of the lab. They were jointly deceiving outsiders. They were deceiving her.

Gina suddenly felt sick, like all the air had been sucked out of the room. Because if Jack was a scientist, on this level, it meant that he was part of the managerial team. That he signed off on all the most complex experiments.

Gina struggled and gasped until she somehow got herself up and against her walker. She needed to get out of there. She didn’t care where or how, she just needed a moment to herself, because this was—this was too much. She continued to gasp for breath.

She dragged herself out of the room, feeling dizzy by then. Desperate to get to the bottom floor, she opened doors with little regard for what sensitive things lay beyond them. She desperately needed to get to the elevators. She thrust open the latest door, and shrieked.

The person inside screamed back, or rather, came a harsh, snuffled, snorting wail.

Gina could hear feet approaching in the corridor behind her. Feeling clammy and nauseous, she fully shuffled into the room and closed the door behind her, though she felt equally inclined to hurry away as quickly as her heavy body would allow. Her belly lurched and pulsed, and seemed to press more tightly against the sides of the walker in an unpleasant squeezing sensation that just served to overlay the perpetual tension of her womb.

“What…” Gina managed, though she didn’t know how to continue. What are you? Who are you? Are you…a person? Were you? What…what…what?

“You too, huh,” the creature garbled with a harsh snorting noise.

These words startled Gina. She hadn’t thought to liken herself to the pink-flushed creature sprawled on its side, looking extremely woman-like, but also looking terribly pig-like. It…she had a pig’s protruding snout, and large, flappy ears protruding from her head of dark hair. Her face was round and plump, chin soft, doubled or tripled with fat. Her whole body was fat, thick thighs, soft arms, a round plump ass, small hands and feet looking ridiculously feeble. Her belly was a huge mountain of a mass, rising up to the height of Gina’s elbow where it laid heaving on the floor, the woman attached to it, squirming against it, sprawled on her side, looking compressed and uncomfortable, as though she was cuddled up against a large thing for warmth, rather than actually being a part of it.

Six massive breasts wobbled on her chest, taking up the rest of her torso, pressing hard into her chin, further squishing her, her own body squishing her away from it, needing more space to grow.

Her breasts were so large, Gina doubted she could have wrapped her arms around one pair. The woman looked uncomfortable, but also, sadly resigned to her bizarre style of existence.

“I’m well…I’m experiment seventeen,” the woman garbled. She wheezed for a moment, evidently breathless. “Not the perfect formula, but…well, at least I’m alive.”

Gina felt her back hit the wall. “I…don’t understand,” she whispered.

The creature looked over Gina’s body, then gave a dubious look, a look that clearly stated, Are-you-an-idiot? She propped herself up on a plump elbow. “Experiment eighteen I presume? Or…is it nineteen by now?” She released a variety of piggish snorts.

Gina was numb. “They said it was an accident,” she whispered. “I was getting…f-fertility treatments. They said there was a mix-up and…and my baby…”

“An insemination mix-up?” the gargantuan creature snorted. Over the course of minutes, she twisted and manipulated herself, somehow getting into a sitting position as she maneuvered her belly into her lap. She could barely see past her girth. In fact, Gina doubted that she could. Her mounds overfilled her torso, her massive breasts blocking her vision. But oddly, the woman seemed tolerant of it. She massaged at her fatness. “That’s a…new one. Told me I was going to be a s…surrogate for my cousin. She’s on the lab’ss board of directors. But it was all a lie.” She snuffled again. “Family used to…mean something. But nn…not to them. They’d throw anyone under the bus for their s-sick experiments.”

Gina weakly reached back, touching the oak of the door. She didn’t want to hear any more. She gripped the doorknob, stumbling back.