The Lab, Part 3 (Patreon)

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Summary: Lab technician, Beth, has been engineered to periodically birth  small eggs from her nipples. But Beth soon discovers that the eggs  are progressively increasing in size as well as number. Contains: Female: Breast expansion, breastation, egg laying, and more.

Previous Chapter

-

Her breasts were full of the weird egg things. That, and the milk goo.

What did the eggs even contain? Scientifically, they couldn’t have contained anything, as they have not been fertilized. So why did she keep producing them? It made no sense and it was ruining everything.

It was honestly hard to keep up at work. The eggs were all she could think about. How was she expected to focus on her research when she was dealing with the sensation of engorgement, in addition to the tingling, prickling, itchiness of her flesh. It could’ve been in her head, the anxiety leaving her fidgeting.

The fact remained that she was producing eggs at least daily. A couple at a time, usually around the same hour every day. Occasionally the births did occur unexpectedly. Indeed, Beth had begun to think of them as births, as she had few other options in characterizing the episodes and contractions.

Sometimes she could sense when it was about to occur. Her body would grow warm all the sudden, and she would become a little breathless. Sometimes her breasts would feel oddly tense and her nipples would ache or tingle.

Then she knew it was time. Her mouth would press, her forehead would sweat, her back would arch, then her breasts would shiver and tighten. She’d hum a little as her nipples steadily opened, shoulders twisting as things proceeded out of her control.

People were starting to give her odd looks around the lab. Beth’s predicament made her curious about what was going on with her colleagues. Had they been subjected to similarly bizarre experiments? Were some of them producing eggs as well? Linda was only getting fatter, her round belly advancing every day. Not only was she plump, piggish, and pink, but she looked pregnant as well. Extremely pregnant. Her breasts were growing alongside her belly and there seemed to be no end in sight. Linda just kept eating and eating, but without the joy of someone who was truly indulging. Instead it was with a weird sense of uneasiness. Like she couldn’t stop. Linda was always stuffing something into her mouth, even while working.

-

“Mgghh…” Beth closed her eyes one morning at work, freezing where she stood in front of her microscope. Her breasts were tingling, nipples beginning to distend. It was unexpected being that she had just birthed some eggs very late the previous evening. She peeled off her gloves and walked briskly in the direction of the bathroom.

“Beth, I’m glad I caught you. I wanted to discuss—”

Beth pushed past Jeff. He was another technician. “Busy!” By the time she made it into the restroom, the inside of her bra was wet and sticky. Beth locked herself in a stall and peeled the bra away, groaning quietly, still not accustomed to the increasing heft and weight of her breasts. They had rapidly gone from being so small that they hardly necessitated a bra at all, to being full, plump D-cups, that looked unusually prominent on her slim frame.

They bobbed as they were gently freed, which was another new sensation to her. She breathed heavily as her nipples tightened and tensed, visibly growing until an egg crowned from each, before dropping to the floor. Beth leaned back on the wall as it occurred several more times, her thighs twitching as her breasts produced one egg after another.

Goo followed, rolling steadily down the underside of her breasts. They looked like trails of transparent glue. Grimacing, Beth grabbed up a wad of toilet paper and began to hastily wipe up the eggshells and tiny spots of yoke on the ground. She flushed it all down the toilet then dabbed at the underside of her breasts gently, trying to clean up the thick milk without provoking more to come out. She was just so sensitive. Her breathing shuddered as she finished up and gingerly eased her breasts back into the nursing bra. She replaced the padding.

Beth drew a long breath once she was finished, adjusting her blouse collar, trying to regain some semblance of composure. This is temporary, she reminded herself as she exited the stall. It would all be over soon. She just had to keep a cool head, then she would be able to focus on the real work.

-

That night, Beth woke up squirming and gasping. Her hands were gripping at the front of her night shirt. She realized that it was happening again. “Ohhh…” She breathed, pulling the neckline of her nightshirt down low so that her breasts could push free. It was happening more often now. Beth quavered as several eggs popped out of her nipples and onto the bed. When it was over, she released a frustrated moan, running her fingers through her disheveled hair. She didn’t even bother to wipe up the ooze that followed. She just dropped back against her pillows. “Twice a day?” she questioned aloud, staring through the darkness towards the ceiling. She shook her head and closed her eyes, trying to get some rest. She wasn’t sure if she was resigned yet, but she was determined to see this through. The job was worth it.

-

If Beth looked at her predicament from a more objective point of view, she would be nothing short of fascinated by the ongoing developments within her breasts. Fleshy human fat—a part of the mammalian body used almost exclusively for the production of milk (and perhaps some sexual stimulation)—was now somehow capable of becoming an incubation chamber to eggs. A product that a mammal should not have been able to produce at all.

Objectively speaking, this was a profound discovery. It was something never seen or even conceptualized. Suddenly Beth wasn’t sure if she should have been honored just to be involved in it. And as resistant as she felt, her mind began to wander to the scientific connotations.

-

At work, Beth found herself staring at a colleague’s groin one day. Inappropriate though it may have been, Beth couldn’t pull her attention away from the peculiarity. There was a fatty bulge stuffed in the groin of April Johnson’s dress pants. That in itself would not have been unusual if April had been obese or at least overweight. But April was neither. She was fit and toned, and frequented the campus gym quite often, or so she liked to tell anyone who would listen. Once Beth truly thought about it, she had not heard any of April’s usual remarks on her workouts in a while. Maybe she was getting out of shape.

Still, people didn’t just grow some random bulge of fat in one place. Weight gain was supposed to be generalized, covering one’s whole body, or vulnerable places like the gut, thighs, or hips. Not the pubic region, which didn’t have nearly so many fat cells as other parts of the body did.

Pausing over the glass slide she had been observing, April lifted her head and caught Beth’s eyes. Beth quickly tore her gaze away and pretended to be interested in some of the papers on her desk, shuffling them around arbitrarily.

“Jennings?”

Beth startled. She turned her head to spot Dr. Walker standing outside of his office, beckoning her over. She swallowed and stood, absently brushing her hands against her skirt. Lately she found nothing auspicious about being offered an audience with her superiors.

She walked over to the office and followed Walker inside. Rian and Spelding were not present this time.

Walker sat behind his desk but didn’t invite Beth to sit down as well. “Don’t worry. This will be brief,” he said, as though sensing her tension. He reached for something on the ground to the left of his desk before lifting what appeared to be a wide metal suitcase. “Some of the other scientists and I have come to realize how vulnerable the specimens are, particularly right after production.”

It took Beth a moment to figure out what he was talking about. Once she did, she blinked at him in disbelief. It was a very passive way of discussing what was going on with her body.

“This container will keep the specimens in a cyrogenic state. The battery charge lasts about a week. But you can simply drop it off, with the produced specimens, at the end of your daily shift, after which you will be given a replacement.”

He opened the case to reveal rows of tiny indentations, like in an egg carton, presumably there to stabilize the tiny eggs she produced. The largeness of the container unnerved Beth a little. She couldn’t imagine needing something of that size as she only produced a few eggs per day.

Additionally, she wondered about the value of the eggs. She usually allowed them to break routinely, and had largely been treating them as though they were expendable. She had even thrown a few in the trash.

“Are we clear, Jennings?”

“Um, yes?” Beth said for lack of other words.

“Excellent. Keep up the good work.” She nearly missed it, but Walker passed a long glance over her chest before turning his attention to the monitor on his desk.

The meeting was over. Beth took the case and walked out.

-

Her breasts were getting bigger.

So were the eggs. The strain on her nipples was increasing, but it wasn’t painful for her or anything. It was a weird, uncomfortable sensation, even a little arousing. But Beth tried to maintain her poise and professionalism. She would not allow her circumstances affect her outside demeanor, or give the scientists the pleasure of seeing what a frenzy her mental state was in.

Beth’s breasts were E-cups by now. Soft, plump Es, and as fat as ever.

If she rubbed her fingers into her engorged flesh to examine it—which she seldom did, because frankly it was terrifying—she could actually feel some of the bulges. The eggs. There were so many. They were filling her up.

The polite glances she had gotten accustomed to had evolved to discreet stares. She couldn’t blame her colleagues. The large breasts just looked so unnatural on her frame, so synthetic. The bras she had been given were working harder than ever. Not only were the mounds large, but heavy with fluid. The pressure caused her bras to cut into her shoulders. Her back was starting to feel the strain as well.

She was producing more eggs. She had even begun to count them. On average she produced around seven per breast per birth. Though she could feel more behind them. It was a strange sensation of congestion.

One afternoon, her right breast produced eight eggs and began to push out a ninth, which crowned and protruded half way out of her nipple. It shuddered, stopped, then sunk back into her, popping back into her breast as though it just hadn’t had the momentum to make its exit. Beth was left panting, not understanding the mechanics of this thing at all.

Her clothes couldn’t keep up with her rapid rate of growth. Though the scientists provided her with bras, her shirt buttons began to strain. Beth tried to improvise, wearing stretchy tops and dresses under her lab coats which could no longer button closed. If she was out of dress code, no one complained.

She had cleavage now, a new thing to be conscious of. How her breasts bulged over her neck lines quite easily when she changed positions, how generously her cleavage protruded when she leaned over petri dishes or microscopes. She had never had to worry about modesty and adjusting her clothes with every shift of her body. But everyone was polite about it. They pretended not to notice.

The scientists appeared pleased whenever they saw her lately. Beth diligently dropped off the case of eggs at least daily, not saying a word unless she was asked a question.

She wondered if she was avoiding the real world, only going to work, living in this bubble of oddities rather than elsewhere, where people could speak more freely, and call her out on her changes. Turn her numbness into indignation and action.

“I don’t feel so well,” Linda moaned one day, dropping the remnants of a donut she had been fervidly chomping through.

Linda had only gotten pinker and chunkier over recent weeks. She was massively fat, looked overdue with multiples, and her stride had devolved to a slow wobble.

Linda's orb shuddered and she moaned, clutching at the sides of it—what she could reach of it anyway—with her pink pudgy hands.

“Linda, can I speak to you for a moment?” Dr. Rian appeared out of nowhere.

Linda just groaned out, hands massaging into her fat flash. She hunched, looking like she might topple over. Rian took her arm and forcefully ushered her away with clear effort.

Beth blankly watched on.