Campus, Part 6 - Male Version (Patreon)

Story Directory: $5 Patrons
Story Directory: $10 Patrons
Story Directory: $20 Patrons

Story Schedule

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 awoke several times throughout the night, panting, sweating and fumbling beneath his mass. None of this was right. He had to go. He wanted to escape the campus and his condition, but the concept of getting up wasn’t even vaguely practical at that point.

The urge to push was still uncomfortably present, and exacerbating with the passing minutes, his hips aching, thighs twitching as he fought against it. He could hardly even move anymore. He was a prisoner in his own body.

Simon was sprawled back on his too-conveniently massive bed, his body practically crushed beneath his bolder of a belly. He would shift constantly, often laying on his side so his belly was perched beside him, tight and throbbing. His massive breasts were shelved atop it, mounds resembling basketballs in size, his stinging nipples sticking out like coke caps, areola puffy and outlined against his top like the rest of his flesh.

His t-shirt—more aptly a belly shirt at that point—could barely contain his breasts, a large chunk of flesh pushing out beneath the strained hem. Despite the paltry coverage, it hardly served any purpose, as the taut material was so soaked with his sweat that it was rendered transparent.

Below, Simon was wearing an oversized pair of basketball shorts he had picked up at the campus shop, but with the recent growths of his posterior, it was stretching and straining to contain him, his ass crack bulging out over the waistband.

He was simply massive. His feeble body quavered under the strain of all the swelling it had endured.

Yet it still wasn’t over. Simon could feel his mass tightening, throbbing, inching forward. He was breathless and exhausted, feeling as though he was in a constant state of cardio, just with the effort of existing as he was at present, as the bizarre caricature he had become.

He had to escape.

Simon didn’t know how, but with time and effort, he somehow maneuvered himself upright, swinging his belly down against his thighs which were rapidly going numb beneath the weight of it.

He shifted his feet to the floor, and began to carefully inch himself forward, gasping and sweating all the while. The pressure was unbearable. He felt as though he was going to lose control. He clutched hard at the underside of his belly, while his other hand pressed against the mattress behind him, helping him to maintain balance.

Simon rocked gently, his face flushed bright red from the effort of it all. With each rock, he tilted himself slightly farther, until he gained some momentum, and with a strangled groan, managed to heave himself onto his feet.

He was amazed that he got himself standing on the first try, and almost laughed, until his eyes widened, and his ability to balance himself failed, as did his knees’ ability to support his full weight.

He was going down, sinking. He managed to ease down against the carpeted floor without too harsh of an impact. He groaned, and fumbled to shift his legs into a more comfortable position, as his belly pressed hard down on them, and the ground.

“Ohhh…” he grunted, as the pressure shot downwards, hips shuddering as his ass wobbled. His ass spasmed so forcefully he yelped.

He wasn’t imagining it. Something was happening. Something large and heavy was squeezing, shifting between his hips, through his pelvis, and farther. He moaned.

“F-fuuuckk…” He couldn’t imagine how something so large could possibly fit through him. In fact he didn’t want to find out.

His thighs spread almost by instinct, but he shuddered them closed again.

There was a light knock on the door. “Simon are you okay in ther—oh.” Paul had let himself in, and to Simon’s astonishment, he was accompanied by another male student in a football jersey.

And then a girl came in—a friend of Paul’s?—and another, until people were filtering in one after the other. Students. Teachers. Simon arched and cried, his belly heaving so powerfully he felt like it would burst away from him.

He came to the vague awareness that he had a full audience, everyone standing around, marveling at him, with looks of pure euphoria on their faces. Those faces were shadowed by the night, and seemed to fill every corner of the room. It was eerie, and Simon wanted more than ever to be anywhere but there.

He was spreading his legs again, as much as he could, despite himself. His breasts had popped entirely out of his shirt. His flushed, throbbing, bloated body was on full display. He felt like a prized pig awaiting slaughter as he moaned and struggled and they watched in silence. He was only on the cusp of pain, but the awkward discomfort was the worst thing ever. Like a scratch he couldn’t itch. Like a thousand scratches. But he couldn’t bring himself to push.

There was a sharp spike of pressure that felt like being punched in the gut, and something jammed downwards, causing Simon to yelp. He collapsed harshly on his back, watching his belly bob up and down as he struggled to breathe.

His nipples squirted streams of milk that sprayed through the air. He moaned and whined, clutching at himself. “I can’t…I can’t…” he groaned, face contorted, vision blurred. He thought he saw the girl who had warned him. But equally, he could have been imagining it.

“Can’t…” he whined, repeating the word like a mantra. Despite him, a force was shoving through, as he shuddered, and clutched it in as much as he could. It was so big, so overwhelming. But he had to hold it in.

-

In a well-lit, windowless, medical facility, several people in hazmat suits stood around Simon Maple’s unconscious form, as the young man groaned and twitched in his sleep. He wore some sort of silvery headset with a tangle of wires running through it.

“The host is going into labor,” one of the scientists observed.

“I’m not surprised,” responded another. “He has been pushed to his limits.” He raised a wand-like medical device with a flat end and gently prodded it against Simon’s massive, heaving stomach.

People buzzed around Simon’s form, taking his vitals, administering medications through his IV line, or simply poking and prodding at his fecund body, his erection jabbing at the underside of his belly, all while he continued to grimace and fidget in his sleep.

Simon’s abdomen gave forceful jerks. It was flushed from the pressure, and developing the faint outlines of veins even at that moment, as it pushed forward and swelled with subtle vibrations of growth. It was growing larger than the king-sized bed could handle.

The medical staff had thus far managed to manipulate the host into holding the spawn in. They had found that the most effective way to control one’s body was a combination of drugs and psychological persuasion. The two methods worked quite impressively in conjunction.

“It is finally time,” said one of the doctors once it was confirmed that the host indeed, was, in labor.

There was a general murmur of agreement amongst the group.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” one said, prompting an awkward, loaded silence.

“John—” another responded.

But John continued, “He is our best subject yet. The litter is strong and healthy. And could do with a little more growth. Humans have such short incubation periods, however I think we could push him another week.”

“His body surely cannot endure—”

“Let’s get him to the gel tank. Yes, that’s it.”

The group, as a collective, arduously rolled Simon’s bed to another section of the expansive facility, this one set up with what appeared to be a large, deep hot tub built into the floor. It was filled not with water, but a still, thick, translucent, purple substance, reminiscent of gelatin.

“Now lower him…easy…” John guided the rest as he dialed buttons on the bed’s remote, the other scientists gripping onto Simon the best they could.

The mechanical bed gently lowered and tilted, effectively sliding Simon’s body downwards, so that he plopped into the gel with a queasy “gloop” noise.

Simon sunk and was submerged, down to his neck. He remained unconscious, his face still twisted in discomfort, shoulders still periodically tensing.

John took a new remote, and the hot-tub lifted, elevating with a hum. It came above ground, and soon resembled a tank, with glass sides so that everyone could see what was happening within.

Simon’s body looked even more massive in the translucent fluid. He was suspended slightly, the substance offering support where sheer gravity did not.

“This should sustain him for a while longer. Soften the skin, ease the weight of the spawn,” John noted, continuing to thoughtfully examine Simon’s form. “Increase the delaying drugs. I know we’re pushing past the safe zone, but we still may be able to disrupt this labor.”

“He will birth the absolution,” said one man monotonously. “But he is not ready yet.” Then he shuffled off to get to work.

“Indeed,” said John, continuing to observe Simon through the tank’s rounded glass walls. “Shall we change the scenario?” He motioned to Simon’s headset, then turned to a woman who was typing away at a computer console across the room. “Have the girl come back. The one who warned him. Have her burst into the room, and tell him to hold it in no matter what.”

“Yes, sir.” And the woman began to type faster.

“Somehow they manage to get him into a wheelchair. Have them escape somehow—to the math building basements. Maybe he’s digging a tunnel? Have fun with it. Could you imaging him trying to crawl?”

“Wonderfully ludicrous, sir.” And the woman continued to type away, Simon’s headset beeping gently.

“To our absolution.”

“To absolution.”

And John walked over to another device, as various personnel tinkered with computers and equipment around the room. Simon continued to squirm in his sleep, hips twitching, belly jerking, ass bobbing, and breasts seeping. He had no idea he was in a stimulation. In fact, he had no idea how special he was. Simon was the key, the path to absolution. Everyone else was simply orbiting around him.

The End