Farm Boy, Part 3 (Patreon)

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Summary: A high school senior, Max noticed that his older brother has been dipping into the chemical on his parents' farm, and has been gaining a lot of weight. A bit disgusted, a bit curious, Fred tries the chemical hormones himself, and experiences the best high of his life. He quickly introduces the chemical to his two best friends, and the three progressively get addicted, all while experiencing incidental changes, such as butt growth, breast development, belly expansion, in addition to other, stranger, things. Contains: Male: pregnancy, breast expansion, multiple breasts, breast-belly, butt expansion, weight gain, and more. Also, issues of drug addiction.

Previous Chapter

-

Days passed, and things continued to develop, oddly.

Max’s chest was only getting bigger and plumper, resembling real breasts, full ones that even rivaled the size of some of the girls in his high school.

At first Max took to just squeezing himself into his increasingly tight undershirts, but when he realized said shirts just weren’t cutting it, and he saw the odd looks he was getting from some of his classmates, Max went out and bought several rolls of athletic tape and took to actually wrapping the mounds, taping them down, so that he reverted to looking as though he had spent weeks doing pec workouts at the gym.

He just hoped that the growth would soon stop.

The tape was uncomfortable on his tender flesh and achy nipples. He was miserable when he had it on, and found himself squirming continuously in the tight straps, aching for a tiny bit of relief from the restrictive material hidden under his shirt.

But in the end, it had to be worth it. The alternative was dealing with his parents fretting over him the way they fretted over his brother. Or worse, people at school finding out. It was his last year of high school, and he preferred to graduate without being mocked, bulled, and remembered only as the moobs-guy.

His friends didn’t seem to be faring much better than him. Max discreetly eyed them that afternoon as the trio gathered near one of the barns.

Scott’s gut was getting worrisomely large. It now resembled a forming beer-gut stretching out his shirt, though it looked rather firm. Scott didn’t make any comment about it, he just scratched at it from time to time. As naïve as Scott was, it was hard to tell if he even noticed it. If it was bothering him, he didn’t mention anything. Max wasn’t even sure if Scott acknowledged the weight gain as odd.

James had put on weight as well, and like Max and Scott, it seemed localized. In his ass. James’ ass was expanding, sticking out, stretching out the seats of his pants. James had taken to donning sweatpants and basketball shorts either to reduce the blatancy of his ass growth or because his jeans just didn’t fit him anymore. He also took to wearing baggy shirts that he pulled down over his ass, but there was little hiding the protruding mound.

Unlike Scott, James seemed distinctly uncomfortable. But just like the other two, he made no mention of the embarrassing changes his body was going through.

God, Max though as he stared at his friends. Their growth was so obvious. Was his growth obvious? Did everyone know what was going on under his shirt?

Max dismissed the idea. He had looked at himself in the mirror at every possible angle. His chest was hidden, though only just. He had already adjusted his diet to decrease his calorie intake. Things were going to be fine.

They stood in a loaded, hesitative silence. Max wondered which of them would be the first to address the elephant (elephants?) in the room.

No one stepped up.

“You have the powder?” said James, getting straight to business. They were always jonesing by this time, after a long day of school.

“Let’s go,” said Max, pulling the sandwich bag full of powder out of his pocket.

It wasn’t just embarrassment that kept the trio from talking about their bodily changes. It was burden that came with acknowledging their changes as side-effects, and the potential solution to that. Stopping the drug. No one wanted to risk it. Things were just so good at present. What did a little weight gain matter anyway?

-

Early one morning, Max awoke sweating heavily. It was before sunrise, and it didn’t’ take him long to realize what had roused him. His body was hot, his chest tingling, and his nipples aching in pain but also in need. His erection was tenting out his pajama pants, and he was so close to the cusp, he found himself gasping.

In just his pajama pants and a tank top, Max got up and shuffled out of his bedroom, heading for the bathroom down the hall. He crossed his arms over his bloated chest in case he bumped into anyone. He locked himself in the bathroom, cornered the toilet, then fell apart with just three sharp pulls of his cock. His nipples stung more, and he allowed the hard nubs to wobble slightly, rubbing into the crisp material of his top.

Max waited a few moments to regain his breath, before he pulled up his pants, washed his hands, and surveyed himself. He stared at the way his chest bulged out in his shirt. The mounds…the breasts…were almost cute in their perkiness. They were full and soft—they had to be almost B-cups by then. His nipples protruded out visibly in his shirt, and the mounds would have been perfect on a woman. He would have gone crazy if he’d had access to these mounds on a woman. He had spent many a night dreaming about squeezing plump, perfect breasts in his hands, even learning what they tasted like.

But when they were attached to his body, the mounds disgusted him. He tried not to touch them in general. He didn’t even really look at them. Observing the way they stuck out so inconveniently full just made his gut clench at the increasingly difficulty of hiding them. They seemed to be growing bigger every day.

Lightly shaking his head, Max left the bathroom, crossing his arms over his chest and making a beeline for his room, but he couldn’t help noticing the beam of light down the hall where his brother’s bedroom door stood ajar. Max found it so typical that Adam would make the same mistake twice. Of course, the first time had been a dream. …hadn’t it been? Max felt his legs moving, felt himself drawing closer to the strip of light, as though magnetized by it. It made sense that Adam would be up this early. He had college midterms this week. He would be heading off to the library for some last-minute studying. It was probably entirely innocent.

Max continued to covertly approach his brother’s bedroom door. Maybe he wanted confirmation that Adam’s weird, massive, belly-breast—thing—hadn’t actually been real. Maybe he wanted…something else. He didn’t know and he was too distracted to really think about it. He laid his hands on the doorframe, took a deep breath, and peeked through the opening.

Adam wasn’t sprawled back in bed beneath a beach ball of a belly as he had been in Max’s dream about him.

No.

Instead Adam was standing upright, back straining to support the same beach ball of a belly, the massive one, that looked at full-term with triplets (albeit more jiggly), the belly that seemed to inexplicably shrink down in size during the day, but was egregiously massive at present.

Adam was straining into some sort of material contraption, face red as he struggled to wrap it around himself, his belly. It was maybe a girdle of some sort, a…was it a…maternity girdle?

Adam was panting heavily, struggling, fumbling. He backed into the wall, leaning on it for leverage as he grunted and puffed out frustrated breaths until finally he managed to close the first latch on the girdle.

Gasping for breath, face red, Adam closed the remaining latches, until his mound was tightly compressed, so much so that Adam could hardly seem to inhale. A patch of moisture bloomed on the face of the girdle, and Adam cursed quietly, laying his hand on the side of his mound. Lightly shaking his head, Adam pulled a huge T-shit over himself. He had gone from looking hugely pregnant to just beer-fat again, his belly looking quite large, but nowhere near as obscenely massive as it actually was in reality. Max could only stare gaping, speechless as Adam wiped some sweat from his brow. Max wondered how long his brother had been growing. How long he’d been trying to…hide it, in this way. Max felt himself backing away from Adam’s bedroom door. As quietly as he could, he slipped back into his own room, where he laid in bed and stared at the ceiling, absolutely stunned.

-

Max wished it had been a dream. But now he knew that both instances that he’s spied on his brother had been utter reality.

The following afternoon he sat in his bedroom, still a little dazed by the morning’s events. Scott and James were present, riding out their highs, slowly coming out of it. The trio had begun to worry less and less about the prospect of getting caught, now routinely getting high in Max’s bedroom with Max’s parents downstairs only a few dozen feet away.

Max gazed around at his friends. They looked entirely content, James perched in Max’s desk chair, and Scott slumped back on a bean bag. Max himself was sprawled across the width of his bed. “Do you think we should stop?” he blurted out, even as he licked some residue of the drug off his finger.

Scott and James looked at him in shock.

“Fuck no,” said James, getting up.

“Are you insane?” said Scott, struggling a bit under his weight.

And they were right, in fact, echoing the sentiments that filled Max’s own head. He looked at James’ plump ass—a nice ass at that. Not that Max was gay or anything. It was just a fat, plump ass that looked juicy in its perfection. It looked as though it was surgically enhanced, as though James had gotten implants or injections. It stretched out James’ sweatpants, the material hugging the mass and sinking deep into his crack no matter how much James fidgeted for relief.

Scott was a different story. He was just getting round, his belly firm and bulging, making him look seven months into a pregnancy. Scott often belched or farted or patted his mound fondly. Max sometimes eyed Scott’s stretched T-shirts, looking for the protrusion of the odd massive nipple that Adam’s belly had developed. But Max’s belly button remained inward as far as Max could tell, and it didn’t have the characteristic softness of Adam’s, but remained weirdly firm-looking. Max didn’t know whether or not to see this as a good sign.

“You’re right,” he said absently, glancing down at his shirt, where his breasts were uncomfortably confined, yet still beginning to puff his top out, because there was only so much the tape could hide.

He could no longer imagine his life now without the daily highs. It was indisputably worth it to feel this good, this happy and unburdened, and he just couldn’t—go back to the way things had been before. He didn’t think he would survive it.

So if he continued to grow, that would just be incidental to his new self. The high was more important. And frankly, he couldn’t be bothered to give a fuck. “Just kidding,” he murmured to himself.

-

Adam’s shirt was wet all the time, even in front of their parents. He was…leaking, and dripping white stuff—his, his milk—all over the place, and his parents didn’t know what to think about it. Maybe they were baffled. Maybe they thought it was sweat. Max found the whole thing to be weird and fascinating, that his brother had developed a giant breast where his lean midsection had once been.

Adam tried to keep to his bedroom most of the time. When he wasn’t, he could be seen huffing and puffing, flushed and huge, even with his girdle on. He was blowing up, and their parents’ frustration had turned to anguish. They were worried about Adam’s health. There was talk of specialists, therapists, even consults with bariatric surgeons. After one final fight, Adam had had enough. He made on his threats and left. Max couldn’t blame him.

It was actually kind of a relief to the uneasiness Max felt whenever his gaze had crossed his brother’s expanding body.

It had made Max uneasy about his own changes, his own—breasts. Would they just keep growing? They hadn’t stopped yet.

The mounds were as plump as ever, and incredibly tender. They were almost full Cs by then, and were stubbornly pushing into visibility under his shirts despite the compression. Most of the day Max either felt uncomfortable or aroused by the heated mounds. His grades were near perfect, his spirits higher than ever, but his breasts remained a constant distraction that resulted in him thinking about them constantly, and fidgeting to touch them. Hell, it was time to indulge.