Campus, Part 3 - Male Version (Patreon)

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Note: This is a male version of Campus.

Summary: When Simon leaves home for the first time and starts college, he immediately notices that his campus has a shockingly high fertility rate, among other things. Contains: Male & Female: belly expansion, breast expansion, butt expansion, pregnancy, weight gain, birth.

Previous Chapter

-

Simon just wanted it to be over with.

Rapid pregnancy proved an intense sensation. He found himself hot and trembling, and sweating profusely at any time of the day. His insides twitched, his loins twinging his at the growing pressure against his groin.

Simon’s professors, disturbingly enough, seemed impressed by his exacerbating condition. They gave him loads of extra points, for things as arbitrary as raising his hand, or contributing an answer even if it turned out being inaccurate. They treated him as though he wasn’t like all the other fatigued, mediocre, college students.

“You’re coming along,” said Professor Wells as Simon was leaving History class one afternoon.

Simon shot him a look of horror, before he shuffled off to his Physical Education period.

He was disturbed to find that PE that day was little more than a birthing class. Throughout the period, students rocked and contorted themselves in various obscene ways. Their instructor claimed that the so-called “stretches” were meant to aid posture and alleviate pressure on the lower back. Everyone continued to maneuver around the matter of mass fertility on campus. It was like they were under threat or contract, and were obligated to reference pregnancy as “bloating,” “pressure,” or “indigestion,” even when it was happening to themselves.

Simon was wearing a large T-shirt he had stolen from the lost and found, with sweatpants beneath. The neckline consistently sank low, and displayed the mortifying swell of his breasts. Often he fidgeted and adjusted it, trying to keep himself as concealed as possible. He was huge and heavy—he looked at term at least. He looked as though he could drop at any moment.

Simon sat uncomfortably on the gym floor, legs spread to cradle his swollen belly, and palms pressed to the ground behind him to keep him balanced.

Every so often he would shift his tense back. He looked about at the students around him, wondering of their ridiculous contortions could have been at all comfortable. The instructor, Mr. Moore, walked over.

“Simon, I don’t see you trying the poses,” he admonished.

Simon grimaced slightly, and shifted his legs as though to bend into a pose, hoping Mr. Moore would move on to other students, yet he continued to stand there, appraising him. With a long-suffering moue, Simon slowly drew his knees up and arched his back, before gasping at the weight this shoved down on his pelvis, his dick hardening and thighs quivering.

“Excellent form,” said Moore. He leaned down and pushed Simon’s knees even higher.

Simon groaned at the increasing pressure, his ass spreading, hole opening—he felt as though he could just push and—

“Very good,” Moore went on. “You should be feeling the pressure shift. It will encourage it to drop when the time comes.”

Simon was aghast. He watched Moore walk off, and gingerly straightened his legs, panting. Oh god, he thought, as he cupped his belly. This was really happening.

Later that afternoon, Simon practically staggered back to his dorm. The abdominal pressure had been bad since gym class, and he wanted nothing more than to collapse on his bed.

“You okay?” said Paul, poking his head up. He was sprawled across the living room couch.

Ignoring him, Simon wobbled to his room. He climbed onto his bed on all fours, his body so tense and uncomfortable, he didn’t think he could lie down. “Unnghhh…” he groaned, one-handedly gripping his belly, rubbing it hard. Maybe those stupid poses had triggered him. Maybe he was finally going to birth this thing. Simon huffed a laugh at the irony of his condition when he hadn’t had sex in the past year. His laugh was cut short by a groan as the pressure gripped and squeezed him till he couldn’t breathe. It was really happening.

He clutched his belly as it tightened, pushing out, inching forward, as his shirt stretched, his belly button visibly swelling against the material. “Oh god, oh god…” he grunted out. He was in labor. He moaned as the familiar pressure shoved down on his hips. He bore down, releasing a strangled noise, face twisted in discomfort.

But then it stopped. The contraction—everything had abruptly ceased. Gasping for breath, Simon looked down at himself. He heard his bedroom door open behind him.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” Paul waddled over and rubbed Simon’s back.

Simon took a few moments for his breathing to even out. “I—I’m not—what happened?” he stammered.

“I’m not sure,” said Paul. “Indigestion?”

Simon stared at him. He redirected his attention back to his own stomach. It had really felt like a contraction. Or maybe it had been a fake one. One of those breckon hits, or whatever they were called. But something had…undeniably happened. He stared at the way the shirt stretched against his form. “Help me up.”

Paul obliged, though it hardly counted as help. Paul wasn’t much use, round as he was himself. But Simon managed to stand, his dorm-mate holding his shoulder.

Simon waddled to the full-length mirror and flinched at his own reflection. His belly was undeniably larger. He looked due with twins. He turned to his side and examined the way his top stretched tautly against him where it had previously held him more loosely. He patted his hands along the swollen mass, almost certain it couldn’t truly be attached to him. He watched his plump breasts heave up and down. He felt so stunned and horrified, he didn’t know how to react.

“Are you okay?” Paul repeated.

“I think I have to lie down.”

He got Paul to leave and managed to strip off the shirt and replace it with a stretchy tank top that hardly pulled over his mound, his round breasts bulging heavily against the low neckline. He shoved off his sweatpants, left only in a pair of briefs stretched tightly against his newly plump hips and swollen posterior, the material sinking deep into the crack between the globes of his backside.

He lay on his side and fidgeted most of the night, between the tight pressing throbbing in his stomach, and the heated pulse that laid heavily on his groin. His nipples stung, and his breasts felt confined even though he wasn’t wearing anything to bind them. His innards lurched continuously, and he palmed at the sensation, as though in reprove, though it did little to alleviate the ceaseless discomfort.

Soon he must have dozed off, because he felt a stranger against his back, spooning him, while holding him securely, calloused hands on his belly. Someone was inside of him, long, thick, and throbbing, stretching him delightfully as they rocked together.

Soon there was pulsing inside, seed filling him to the brim with warmth, but it didn’t stop. He filled more and more till his belly tightened and swelled. “No…” he grunted, clutching his girth as if to hold in the growth. “Stop…nghhh…too much—”

Simon gasped awake. He was sprawled back in bed, his belly bobbing atop him, the great weight pinning him against the mattress.

Groaning, he turned to his side, panting and hugging his mound, curling around it. After several moments, he managed to heave himself up and turn on the lights, before wobbling to the mirror, almost compulsively, where he examined himself. Had he gotten larger? It was hard to tell.

There was a clattering of dishes coming from the kitchen. After another moment of scrutinizing his reflection, Simon forced himself to tear his gaze away. Licking his dry lips, he decided that he could do with a glass of water. He was up anyway. Looking down at his state of undress, Simon waddled to the dresser.

He had a concerning shortage of bottoms that could accommodate him, but he procured a pair of basketball shorts, which stretched so tightly against his ass, they were on the brink of tearing, and the coverage was laughable. His outfits seemed to be morphing into less-modest versions of themselves. Lightly shaking his head, he waddled to the door. He just wished he could get this over with. Then again, it couldn’t be too much longer for him. He was getting huge.

Paul was awake, and parked in front of the largest cheesecake Simon had ever seen. It was at least six inches high, and took up most of the kitchen table. It had syrup-drenched strawberries on top, and what looked to be buttercream icing.

Paul looked up, and reddened when he saw that Simon had caught what he was up to. “Couldn’t sleep.” Paul shrugged. “Can I interest you in a midnight snack?”

Simon hesitated. His belly gurgled in keen agreement. It wasn’t as though he had his weight to worry about, after all. Simon snorted. He grabbed himself a plate. “Sure.”

Simon and Paul spent the next few hours talking about how delicious the cake was, which seemed to be the only topic they seemed to agree on. Paul had three slices, and Simon had at least seven—he had lost count. While he expressed astonishment about his own appetite, Paul just smiled at him in amusement. By dawn, most of the cake was gone, and the two boys waddled back to their respective rooms, Simon’s stomach gurgling, but now from discomfort.

-

He had overdone things.

When Simon had awoken again, it was to a great deal of discomfort.

At present, he stood in his bedroom, leaned back against the wall, his face flushed red and palms on his gut as those pulses of warmth throbbed through his body. There was that squeezing sensation, and he could feel his belly pushing against his hands. “Easy…easy…” he hissed out, as the pressure built, and his belly continued to inch forward. A twinge of electricity shot to his groin, causing his hips to shudder, dick prodding the underside of the mound. “Oh!” he yelped as he experienced a jerk of growth that made his back spasm, his knees nearly buckling beneath him. “Mmghhh…” His skin prickled as it tightened gently this time. Finally, it seemed to stop. Simon waited a few moments just to be certain, breasts jiggling as he panted. He clutched his abdomen the best he could.

“Oh god…” he groaned, wondering if this was to become a regularity. He looked overdue with triplets by then, his back aching, and girth heavier than ever.

He wanted to go back to bed, but he didn’t want to miss his classes. Good grades were the least he could get out of this disturbing experience. Wearily, Simon got dressed.

He squeezed his ass into some running pants. They were stretched dangerously, but it would have to suffice. He was short on clothes at the moment.

He pulled on a massive button-down he was grateful to have purchased at the campus shop two days before. It was a tight fit, but it at least buttoned. Navigating his feet into a pair of sneakers, Simon waddled out of his room, trying to adjust to his shifting center of gravity as he did.

To his horror, Paul had made breakfast. A large one at that.

“I ordered in,” Paul corrected, as though reading Simon’s thoughts. Paul gave a sheepish smile. “We had such a great time bonding last night, I just thought…” he trailed off, nodding to the mountains of eggs slathered in gooey cheese, butter-drenched bagels, plump oil-seeping sausages, crispy bacon, syrup-drenched french toast, chocolate chip pancakes, muffins of every variety, greasy home fries, and various other dishes better suited for a banquet than two college-aged guys.

Simon tried to aim himself for the door. “I really have to go—” But his belly gave a mighty rumble. He feebly grasped for the doorknob. His mouth watered. The aroma was intoxicating. Simon gulped. “Just one bite,” he amended.

Smiling cheekily, Paul lifted a piece of bacon and bit off a piece. “One bite,” he agreed.