Blackmailed VIII (Patreon)

Note: This is a story-prompt for Wyld.

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They fell into a routine. Brian would come over, feed James fattening foods and snacks, suckle from James’s tits, and supply James with more of those addictive shakes. And honestly, James didn’t need to be fed at all. He was grabbing up food and pastries by his own hands, stuffing them down even when Brian wasn’t around. Binge-eating just became another part of his daily life, and his weight continued to spiral, as did his engorgement. His breasts were so swollen, so tender and heavy. His life became little more than a cycle of consumption.

“Look at you, you fucking cow,” Brian mocked James one evening as he watched James guzzle three of the shakes in a row. “Ready for me to milk those udders of yours?”

James finished off another shake, lowering the can as remnants of the beverage trickled down his chin. “Nrrgghhh…” Both his breasts simultaneously tightened and tensed, before his nipples exploded with forceful torrents of milk that sprayed several feet and showed no sign of letting up.

Brian came up behind James, cradling his soft, pillowy flesh. “Just look at you,” he muttered lecherously.

James could hardly stand to.

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“God, look how juicy they’re getting.” James cupped his breasts, gently squeezing them together.

It was several weeks later, and he had adapted to his physique, in ways.

“I feel so hot,” he breathed, leaning closer to the camera so that it zoomed in on his cleavage. He pulled back, chuckling. “Anyway, in the my next livestream, I plan to have a milky treat for you all,” he remarked as he dug his spoon back into the massive bowl of mac & cheese in his lap, before sticking it into his mouth. Lately, James was always eating when he did his streams. The viewers loved it and James wasn’t too opposed to it himself.  He sucked some stray cheese sauce off his finger then scooped up another heaping spoonful of the pasta. “I think you’ll really like it. So be sure to stay tuned. Who knows, maybe I’ll have a special guest.” He winked. James then arched for the camera, making sure to display his huge tits in the tight, low-cut tank top he had on, which barely covered anything. His puffy belly and waist-fat was bulging out beneath the straining hem, while a huge it expanse of sweaty cleavage was protruding over the neckline. James swore his boobs had to be the size of volleyballs by then. There was seldom a moment that they weren’t pulsing with heat, pressure, and growth.

“Just to finish up…” James looked down at the large cake bowl in his lap where only a layer of macaroni and cheese remained. He felt uncomfortably stuffed to the point of nausea, yet the compulsion to eat was just as intense as when he’d started. He was perpetually hungry, continuously desperate to stuff food down. It was also a big part of his appeal to his viewers. He couldn’t just stop short. They want to see him finish, on every stream.

It took three more dips into the bowl with his spoon to scrape up the rest of the macaroni. James gobbled it down, moaning indulgently. It was so soft and gooey, he hardly had to chew. Once he was done, he made sure to show his viewers the emptied bowl.

“Until next time,” he said breathlessly, eyes widening as he pressed his lips against a belch. In lieu of speaking more, James gave a little wave and turned off the camera, before he belched again, loudly this time. Afterwards he leaned back, breathing heavily. His chest was heaving, breasts jiggling as he squeezed his eyes shut while he endured the fullness of his flesh and the achiness of his nipples. “Mgghhhh…” he hummed as the milk started to pour. He tried to take it slow. Easy. He gasped for breath this is clothing was quickly soaked through.

The subscribers liked to see James lactate on stream, but he couldn’t give it up every time. He had to keep them hungry for more.

There was a knock at the door.

James drew in a deep breath. He braced his hands against his desk and heaved himself up with a groan of effort. It was still hard to believe how much he had transformed. He was so fat, so squishy. And he had the biggest rack he’d ever seen in his life, on anyone. With a weary laugh, James waddled to the door.

It was Brian. The man got right to business.

“I brought more of the shakes,” Brian said, holding a case of them under each arm. “I’m going to need you to—”

“No,” James cut off the request.

Brian raised his eyebrows. “You’re in a stubborn mood. Don’t forget the arrangement.” He nodded towards the cases of shakes; a silent threat to cut James off.

“I sobered up,” James notified.

Brian’s eyebrows shot almost into his hairline.

“Yeah, I guess you didn’t notice. I weaned myself off.”

“But you’ve been fucking begging for it —”

“I’m a good actor,” said James. “The last case you brought, I didn’t even touch. Poured it down the drain. And I feel fine.”

Brian’s face became ugly and angry as he lowered the cases under his arms to the floor. “You think he can resist this?” His hand shot out, roughly cupping James’s right breast.

James released a shuddering breath. His tank top was already completely saturated, and milk started dripping onto the floor. He inhaled long and slow, struggling to find his voice, until he rasped, “I’ll be fine.”

Brian withdrew his hand, looking furious.

“Viewership is up. I’m making more money than I ever have in my life. I suppose I should thank you, Brian. This arrangement turned out being quite lucrative. But without your cut, where does that leave you?”

“This isn’t over,” Brian growled as he turned and stormed off.

But it was. James smiled after him. He gave a glance down at the cases, and nudged them to the side with his foot. They would be picked up with the evening trash.

James grimaced as his belly gurgled. God I could use a snack. Closing the door, he headed for the kitchen.

Even despite everything that had transpired, James had grown to truly love his new body. And his viewers certainly loved it. Overall, he was happy.

Unexpectedly enough, everything had worked out.

The End