Campus, Part 4 - 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 mentally tunneled in. All he was aware of was stuffing food into his mouth as rapidly as he could. His cheeks bulged out, his tongue coated in a variety of conflicting flavors as his throat ached with his full, impatient gulps, and his belly tightened and grew incredibly full, so full that he became nauseous, and yet he continued with the strange certainty that he wouldn’t get sick, he would only get fuller.

When he came out of his reverie, his hands were sticky with syrups, his jaw sore and fatigued. Simon felt heavy and drowsy and groaned quietly, as he shifted, then ultimately opted against moving.

The table was a mess. Empty food pans littered it. There was the odd spill, but little of the food had been wasted. In fact, there wasn’t a bite left.

Feeling weirdly numb, Simon slowly shifted his gaze to Paul, who stood on the side of the room, arms folded over his belly, a stunned expression on his own face. But looking up to notice Simon’s attention, Paul quickly wiped his expression clean then plastered his face with a smile. “You must have been famished.”

Simon just groaned and closed his eyes. He felt disgusting. His hands slid down to his heated orb, where it was perched heavily, overfilling his lap. It felt hot, and as though it was pulsing.

“Well, we better head off to class,” said Paul awkwardly.

Simon restrained another groan. “I think I—” Simon was cut off as a large belch tore through his throat. His cheeks reddened and Paul seemed vaguely amused. “Think I’m—just going to stay in today,” Simon forced out, before covering his mouth against another loud belch.

“Are you sure about that, Simon? You don’t want to fall behind.”

Ignoring him, Simon planted his palms against the sticky, greasy, table top, and made a feeble attempt to heave himself up, but he just felt so heavy and lethargic. He slumped back and sighed, allowing his eyes to drift closed right there in the uncomfortable kitchen chair.

Paul was still talking, but Simon hardly heard a word of it. Instead it served as background noise. Soon there wasn’t any noise at all, just warmth, and pressure, and darkness.

-

Simon awoke in time for his last class of the day. He was horrified to find that he was hungry again even after the massive morning binge, and tried to limit himself to just two burritos at the campus food court (he ended up stuffing down five as he waddled his way to the Math building).

His clothing was embarrassingly formfitting, showing off every curve of his fat ass and plump breasts, and the obscene bulge of his belly. The melons on his chest were easily DD-cups by then, and had gotten too plump too quickly, so uncomfortably round, fattening faster than he could handle. His waistband strained to contain the bubble of his ass. His belly made him look as though he was ready to pop out triplets, if not more.

Back tense and forehead sweating, Simon waddled his way into class.

He eased himself down behind one of the extra-large desks. He was only one of several students who looked pregnant and huge. Everyone gave him airy smiles, as though there was nothing unusual about his strange development. Simon sat there trying his best to pay attention, but mostly squirming, sweating, and breathing heavily as he adjusted to the ever-shifting weight squashed between his torso and his lap. He couldn’t believe how huge he was getting. He felt like he was about to pop.

His asshole felt uncomfortably pressurized. It made him want to draw back his knees and try birthing right there even though he wasn’t sure that was even possible. He just felt so full. He felt like babies could just start popping right out of him.

There was a gasp, then a whimper. Simon’s eyes darted to one of the student’s in the front row. A red-haired guy was flushed and sweaty. He was not as large as Simon was, his belly looking at-term with one baby. Heaving himself up, the guy held the underside of his belly and waddled off as quickly as he could. Simon could see that the back of his pants were wet. The professor gave a knowing smile then simply continued on with the lesson.

Simon grimaced. It seemed that people were popping around him every day. He felt weirdly jealous, and yet equal parts apprehensive. How as he actually going to have it? And worse, how was he going to handle having an actual baby? Simon looked down at the heavy girth of his abdomen. He supposed he would figure it out one way or another.

After class, someone lightly bumped into Simon in the hall, but in his unbalanced state, he nearly toppled over. A pair of soft hands shot out to grip his shoulders, keeping him upright. Simon looked down to face a frowning young woman.

“Sorry,” the girl stated.

“It’s okay,” said Simon breathlessly. “I think I was daydreaming…or anguishing,” he added, under his breath.

The girl blinked at him. “You’re…not happy?”

Simon furrowed his brows. “What are you talking about?” He rubbed the side of his gut, and almost winced at the way his shirt was now stretching against him, the fabric between the buttons beginning to pull apart to reveal skin. With the chronic pressure and throbbing that occupied the mound, he hardly noticed the rapid growth anymore. He was practically inflating.

The girl seemed to read something in his face, because she marveled at him. “You’re not like the others,” she said, adding to Simon’s confusion. “Not yet.”

Simon slowly came to understand what the girl was saying, and the feeling was mutual. This girl was not like all the other smiling, airy students on campus. She wasn’t ridiculously cheerful, swollen, voluptuous, or simply complicit in the insanity going on around them. “You’re not either,” said Simon blankly. “Shit—this is—what the hell’s going on here? Sometimes I think I’ve gone insane.” He absently clutched the top of his lurching gut. His cleavage was heaving now, beginning to bulge against his neckline. Simon had been sweltering hot and had left the top few buttons undone, unable to bear the idea of closing them.

The girl’s eyes darted around in evident paranoia. She was small and mousy and looked as though she would run off at any moment. “Don’t give birth on campus,” she said, her gaze shooting to his huge stomach. “It will change everything. No matter what, don’t give birth here. You have to get out.” Giving him one more fearful look, the girl hurried off.

“Wait!” Simon called, turning to pursue her. He waddled as far as the corner she disappeared behind, but she was nowhere in sight, and he felt so flustered he thought he might collapse. Simon leaned his back heavily on the wall, his hands sliding to either side of his belly, where he idly noticed that it was beginning to outgrow his flanks. He pointed his face towards the ceiling, as he huffed, and breathed, until his lungs stopped burning. And then he verbalized the one sentiment that summed up his life at that moment: “Fuck.”

-

“911, what is your emergency?”

“I’m trapped on my college campus,” said Simon in one breath.

“Are you reporting a fire? A building collapse?”

“No, it’s actually—I just can’t get out. I don’t know the way, and no one will help me. It’s all really confusing, and somehow I’m pregnant but I’m a guy…” Listening to his own rambling, he knew he sounded insane.

There was a long pause on the other line. “Sir, this line is for emergencies only. Prank calling this number can be considered a federal crime.”

“This isn’t a prank,” said Simon quickly. “I’m huge and desperate, and I’m about to—”

But there was a beeping noise, then a soft elevator tune, indicating that the call had been placed on hold. When the line picked up again, an automated voice said, “Thank you for calling the state department of Mental Health. If this is a mental health emergency, please dial 1. To speak to a counselor, please dial—”

Simon hung up the phone and slumped back in his chair. “Ohhh…” he groaned, as something gently jabbed against the inside of his gut. He pulled up his shirt and marveled at his flesh as it pressed out, in a visible lump. The baby was…kicking. He gulped.

Over the next few days, he went through the motions, dragging himself to classes and back to his dorm, while trying to reign in his voracious appetite, yet it continued to surge, peaking with explosive binges at least once a day. Paul continued to enable his terrible eating routine, and Simon was helpless to stop him.

Simon was getting truly massive. He looked overdue with triplets by then—no, bigger. He looked like he was with quads or quints, or trying to smuggle a beach ball under his ever-tightening shirts. His breasts sat huge and heavy atop the mound, bulging against his straining necklines. He was practically exploding from his clothes.

His ass was huge and round, hips plump and wide. His body quivered and strained with every arduous step he took. When he sat down in class, he squirmed from the continuous, uncomfortable pressure perched heavily on his loins. He wanted to give birth and yet he was scared to. The mousy girl was the only sane person he had ever met on campus, and she had explicitly told him not to give birth here, no matter what.

He could barely fit into anything anymore, even the clothes he saw at the campus shop which seemed specifically catered to the huge students littering the college.

In fact, when Simon really thought about it, he had come to be bigger than most of the people he saw. Other students now gave him longer looks than the fleeting, pleased glances he was accustomed to. With his massive belly and the melon-sized jugs bobbing on his chest, he had somehow become unusual in a college full of hugely swollen people. He was humungous, bursting. He was their perspective of large.

Simon sat in History one afternoon wearing a sleeveless jersey and basketball shorts, needing the cool air to touch as much of his skin as possible. The stretchy material hugged every curve of his body, pulling taut at his various mounds, and soaked with so much sweat, it outlined his belly button and nipples in explicit detail. He felt naked, but could hardly linger on that in his combined physical and emotional discomfort.

Their professor was deep in labor, but still very intent on teaching. The professor had explained the situation in the beginning of the class, and was now breathing in huffs, his face flushed, as he periodically gripped at his very-low belly. “And what you must understand about Europe in the 1960s is that—mmghhhh…” Professor Sneed paused to groan and arch his swollen body into one of the many contortions that was supposed to ease him. He was wearing slacks and a tightly-stretched button-down, and Simon could see a ripple of movement under his skin. “Hoooo…hahhhhh…I might sit down for a moment,” the professor said, as he loosened his belt and made his way to his desk, wincing periodically.

Simon watched on, feeling practically squashed by his own massive mound. Professor Sneed was positively huge, and yet he was still very evidently smaller than Simon, which just made Simon all the more uneasy. Simon’s belly button was the size of a golfball, his huge belly overwhelming his feeble body. He shifted slightly, trying to alleviate some of the pressure on his groin, but only making it worse. His groan was hidden by Sneed’s cry of pain.

“Mmmghhh…ohhhhh…” Sneed moaned. Aside from his belly and cantaloupe-sized breasts, the professor was lean. Simon could tell that he had been in good shape before the pregnancy. In Sneed’s sweaty top, it was clear that he wasn’t wearing anything to support his chest. His breasts were perfect, fat tear-shapes, but his nipples were very large, almost unnatural. They were thick and long, pushing out at least an inch, and sort of resembling teats in an strange way. They wiggled as his breasts bobbed with Sneed’s movements.

There was visible writhing against the skin of his belly where the baby squirmed under his shirt. Sneed was now leaned back in his desk chair, body from the hips down hidden beneath it, but Simon could tell he was spread wide. “And by the time the wall came down in 1989—nrrghhh—ahhhhh!” Professor Sneed arched. “One m-moment class!”

Simon felt his dick hardening, his nipples distended. He wanted it. He wanted his turn to give birth. He felt so small when he looked at the girth of his abdomen. It was taking over him. He could hardly handle the prospect of heaving himself up with the tremendous weight of it anymore. His ass trembled. A tightness blossomed, causing Simon to gasp. But it wasn’t a contraction. Simon squeezed his eyes shut and gripped his desk as he steeled himself for another growth spurt.