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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

-

Things were getting weirder.

Aside from trying to deal with the plump, round, occasionally dripping C-cups on his chest, Max had developed an itch directly beneath them, on his ribs. He scratched at himself impatiently at night, and discreetly during the day, the skin taking on a pinkish hue. It was just another thing to deal with. Max suspected the weight of his often-sweaty tits were irritating his skin there. Barring spending his afternoons clutching his breasts in his hands, there was only one solution. So he went online and ordered a bra. For himself. Unwrapping the package he descended into giggles, unsure of whether he was amused or disturbed by it. He withdrew a slinky pink bra, and still chuckling, he slowly strapped it on, sobering up as his tits settled into the cups. He supposed the relief outweighed the weirdness and discomfort. And weird it was. Max stared down at his perky mounds in the C-cup bra. To his surprise, his breast-flesh was bulging somewhat against the cups, as though the bra was slightly too small. Max closed his eyes and tried not to think for a moment. He then got some of the hormone and got a little high.

It was easier to process this debacle when he was at least slightly inebriated. He appreciated no longer having to quaver from the sensation of his nipples rubbing against the insides of his T-shirts when he was alone in his room.

The bra was different from the binds he used to compress his chest at school. It didn’t painfully squeeze him, causing heat and tenderness to accumulate throughout the day as he sweated miserably. The bra sort of cradled his tits, gently, almost lovingly. He liked the bra. Max didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, it just was.

His ribs were still fucking itchy. He was developing a bump on his skin under his right tit. There was another bump on the opposite side, once he really explored it. He tried creams and lotions he found in the medicine cabinet, and though they cooled his skin temporarily, they had yet to resolve the issue.

“Damn Max, your tits are beautiful,” James mentioned one afternoon. “No homo,” he added as an afterthought.

“I think they’re getting bigger,” said Scott as he indulgently stared.

Max glared at them as he fidgeted under his T-shirt. His tit-flesh was bubbling heavily over his bra cups by then, the skin on his upper ribs still itchy and now slightly puffy from all the irritation. “Fuck off,” he spat, as he adjusted himself again.

He knew they were growing. They seemed to throb and leak every night the moment he sank in his bed, as though sensing he was alone, sensing the idleness of his wandering fingers. They were hot and achy and drove him insane. And touching them, tweaking his nipples, continued to be the most luxurious sensation in the world. Even at that moment, his nipples were bulging hard in his shirt, swollen and hard, practically begging to be touched. Max closed his eyes and tried to breathe. If he started to leak, his friends would just get worse in their weird commentary.

“I think they’re D’s,” piped in Scott.

“Shh…shut up,” Max groaned, but it was no use, they were seeping. His nipples distended as he moaned quietly, wiping sweat from his brow. His friends were left gawking at him.

James awkwardly cleared his throat. “They look good on you, Max.”

“Are you kidding?” Max retorted. “I’m a freak.” And they were getting harder to hide at school and during family meals. The bandages compressed them, but painfully, and not that adequately. Sometimes, when they were engorged, he felt like they’d just burst.

James started, “Yeah, but—”

“What’s with this obsession with them, anyway?” Max complained.

There was a beat of silence.

“Dude, they’re boobs,” said James.

This caused all three to chuckle, the tension dissolving somewhat.

Max sighed and lightly shook his head as he gazed down at the way his chest was stretching out his T-shirt. “Do you mind if I…they’re just so hot.” Not waiting for an answer, he pulled off his shirt, releasing a quiet hiss as his hot skin was exposed to the cool air within his bedroom. Milk was dripping directly from his bra, his hard nipples perfectly outlined against the straining wet material. Max uneasily bit his bottom lip as he surveyed himself. He knew his nipples were large, almost unusually so. And he knew that he was lactating a lot lately. It was getting bad, and he didn’t know what to do. Tearing his gaze away from his chest, he attempted to change the subject. “Scott, you’re fucking huge.”

Scott and James seemed to snap out of their reveries as their focus was also pulled away from Max’s chest.

“I know,” Scott shrugged as he lightly patted his gut.

That was putting it lightly. Scott looked as though he was pregnant, like, very pregnant, even due with child. His belly didn’t even come close to resembling weight gain, especially when the rest of his body remained slim, save for his chest, which was getting slightly pudgy lately.

“Man, you should see a doctor,” said James.

“Yeah, probably,” said Scott, as he continued to lightly stroke his gut. He seemed strangely content in the face of so much uncertainty.

Max lightly shook his head as he went and prepared himself another hit.

-

In another few weeks, Max was struggling to hide a fat pair of DDs on his chest.

It was just insane how perky and plump they were. It wasn’t as though he took particularly good care of them.

Nowadays his parents were doing double takes or giving him odd looks. Much as he bound and compressed the mounds, they were getting kind of obvious.

His friends helped him to feel better, if just by way of their abnormalities.

Scott was starting to look like a fucking whale. He was even beginning to waddle. It was bizarre. He looked as though he had a beach ball attached to his torso.

All his shirts strained to contain him, some of them on the cusp of tearing right open. His pants were jammed low under his firm gut, barely hanging on.

Scott puffed and panted wherever he went, always flushed pink and sweating profusely. When he wasn’t in motion, he laid, practically squashed beneath his mound, looked utterly exhausted.

It remained a mystery why he had still yet to seek medical attention. Every time one of his friends suggested it (lightly, and awkwardly, but with a hint of urgency), Scott gave an eerie look and vaguely agreed (though he never did).

“I don’t know guys,” he said one afternoon where he was sprawled, uncomfortably, on his usual bean bag in Max’s room. “I just feel like—like it’s fine. You know?” He fumbled, trying to get comfortable. His belly was trembling even when he was not moving. The first few times he had seen it, Max had been certain it was his imagination. But it wasn’t. Scott’s belly moved. Even at that moment, Max could see Scott’s skin press out beneath his navel.

“Scott, I think there’s something very wrong with you,” said James, and Max had never seen James look so nervous.

“There’s something wrong with all of us,” said Scott dismissively. “Your ass is completely insane. And Max has the fattest rack I’ve ever seen.”

“Hey,” protested Max, uncertain of whether to be flattered or insulted. His rack was pretty fat, but it wasn’t as though he needed the constant reminder. At present he was trying to rub at his sensitive under-boob flesh as discreetly as he could. The skin had only gotten puffier and more irritated over time, tapering in an unusual way, like two soft little mountains directly beneath each of his large breasts. He wondered if he was getting cysts or something. Just another problem to add to the pile. At least the issue was hidden by his tits. That was the one bright side, he supposed.

“Yeah…” James conceded, looking increasingly uneasy. His ass was truly massive. Max didn’t even know where he found pants. It looked like he had two volleyballs stuffed in the seat of them, ass cheeks wobbling around after him in the most sexually confusing way imaginable. “I’ve been getting these weird growths. On my head, actually.”

Max blinked and lifted his gaze. James’ head looked no different than usual. But James was reaching into his messy brown hair, fingering something.

“They’re like…bone spurs, or something,” James continued. “I may actually have to go see a doctor.”

“Fuck, man.” Max got up, and touched James’ head without thought. It was true. There was a little spike that was hard, like a bone. James took his wrist, and directed his fingers to another one, on the opposite side.

It was only then that Max noticed that James was getting an eyeful of cleavage in the too-small tank top Max was wearing. His breasts were practically stuffed in his friend’s face.

“You sick fuck,” said Max, stepping back. He self-consciously adjusted his top, nipples aching.

“Dude, they’re boobs

The trio bantered a bit, then fell into discussion of other things, Max happy to steer the conversation away from their ever-changing bodies.

-

Max didn’t know how women dealt with these things. His tits were achy as fuck. Yet he couldn’t stop touching them. And the more he touched them, the more they seeped. It was an endless cycle of torment and arousal. And it was driving him nuts.

His rash was getting out of control. The irritation was so constant and disruptive, Max feared he might actually have to go see a dermatologist. He examined himself in the bathroom one evening after several days of trying to ignore the problem, but in actuality, fidgeting and pawing at himself through his clothes. He lifted his plump, leaky tits in his hands and examined the puffy flesh beneath them.

His jaw dropped.

On the skin just beneath each breast, a small mountain had formed, topped off with a pink bump he had thought to be a mole or a cyst or something. But now it looked very defined and distinct, and was almost painfully sensitive when he isolated his touch to just that spot.

He gulped as one actually seemed to…harden. It looked like—it was—it was a second pair of breasts.

“What the fuck,” Max wheezed out, dropping his arms, and causing his fat DDs to slap painfully down against the small pair of breasts just beneath them. He thought he was losing his mind, so he quickly checked again, then lowered his tits, and walked across the room, running his fingers down his face and through his sweaty hair.

This was impossible.

He was losing it.

He had never seen or heard of—anything—like it before.

How was this—how could—He sunk down the wall, face in his hands as he drew up his knees. He felt his heart pounding. He didn’t know how to deal with this

-

An hour later, Max found himself at Scott’s house. He felt dazed and sick, and just wanted to be high, but he didn’t want to do it alone. He didn’t think he could handle being alone at that moment.

Scott didn’t seem to be doing too well himself, though his ails were more physical. He was groaning and bitching, continuously pawing at himself. He complained about his back and hips, and how he couldn’t get his dick to relax.

The boy looked massive. His belly button stuck out like an oven timer. He looked practically crushed beneath his mass, small and mousy as the rest of him was. When he stood, he leaned heavily on the wall, and arched, so his gut stuck out even farther.

His ass looked fatter today, oddly enough. And his belly, somehow lower. He would clutch at the underside, and tense, and curse lightly every while. “I feel like I’m going to burst,” he whined, palming his heaving mass.

Max passed him a hit, and as Scott took it, it looked almost as though his belly swelled somewhat.

Next Chapter

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