Malcolm, Part 2 (Patreon)

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Summary: Malcolm has a unique ability. Though male pregnancy is so rare most people don't believe in it, Malcolm can impregnate any guy. Not only does Malcolm have this ability, but he quite enjoys using it. Malcolm loves to give unsuspecting men the night of their lives, before he disappears, and leaves them oblivious of the fact that they are pregnant--likely with multiples. Malcolm enjoys watching his victims as they progressively blow up with his babies. He likes targeting men already under stress--college students, athletes, CEOs, engaged men, family men, interns--the list goes on. This is a story about Malcolm watching his various victims as they struggle to conceal or adapt to their conditions. Contains: Male: belly expansion, breast expansion, stuffing, weight gain, butt expansion, pregnancy.

Previous Chapter

-

Peter was infertile, as far as Malcolm could tell. He was the only man Malcolm had never been able to impregnate.

It was what made Peter the perfect partner for him. The sex was great and the relationship was healthy, even functional.

And as much as Malcolm fucked Peter, fantasizing about filling him to the brim, filling him to the point of popping — nothing ever came of it besides some fantastic orgasms and that warm afterglow.

That night, Malcolm pumped Peter with purpose, hands cradling Peter’s flat stomach. Malcolm suspected that he was always, subconsciously, trying to get Peter pregnant, even despite knowing that he couldn’t. It was kind of masochistic, being with Peter. But what was the alternative? There was no other man who would tolerate Malcolm knocking them up every time they had sex. Peter was Malcolm’s only option for long-term companionship. Peter’s infertility meant that Malcolm could keep his dark secret. Keeping Peter oblivious gave Malcolm a reprieve from that clawing, festering guilt.

And it just so happened that Malcolm might have loved him.

“God Malcolm,” Peter panted as he turned over so he was leaning back on the pillows, all sweaty and flushed, looking absolutely edible. “What got into you tonight? Not that I’m complaining,” Peter added with a crooked smile.

“Long day,” said Malcolm as he languidly stretched out on the bed, his hand idly trailing along Peter’s lean body.

Malcolm had chosen Peter almost to stop himself from his sordid habits. But it hadn’t worked. Within months of their moving in together, Malcolm was back to his sick antics. And as much as Malcolm adored his partner, Peter’s infertility honestly disgusted him a little. Of course, not nearly as much as Malcolm disgusted himself.

“What do we do now?” said Peter with a hint of wickedness. He began to return Malcolm’s attention with some mischievous exploration of his own.

“Round two?”

“Mmmmm,” Peter agreed.

This should have been enough.

-

“You been avoiding me, Tim?” Malcolm questioned a couple weeks later when he had the businessman alone again.

Tim startled a little at seeing him. He lightly shook himself, then closed the office door behind him.

“Your secretary let me in,” Malcolm apprised as he stood from where he had been sitting behind that desk with the shiny nameplate—Tim Harris—perched proudly on the front. “Nice girl.”

Tim sneered in a sharp contrast to the jaunty demeanor he usually donned. “Sorry if I can’t be at your beck and call, big man,” said Tim as he made his way to a filing cabinet, somewhat awkwardly. He was stiff and hunched. Like he might’ve been in pain or something.

“What’s going on?” said Malcolm, curiosity piqued. He couldn’t say that he was quite at the level of concerned, but well, he had recently knocked Tim up, right here in this office. Could something have gone wrong?

“Fuck off,” Tim huffed back. He had paused in his arbitrary rummaging through files to fold his arms over his chest, face twisted in discomfort.

“Harris,” Malcolm warned, approaching. He felt a little off-kilter because there had never been any complications before. Not with his kids. His were always strong and sturdy; never any issue. Malcolm watched Tim’s hands fumble with his shirt.

Tim would only be a few weeks along now. Too early to even be having symptoms, let alone problems. Right?

“Harris,” Malcolm repeated. “Tell me what’s going —”

“Urgghhh…” Tim groaned, his twitching fingers pulling apart his button-down, yanking down some binders.

And out sprouted a pair of pornstar jugs that left Malcolm speechless. They were big and round — had to be DDDs, or larger. But they weren’t drooping or saggy like oversized breasts should have been. Instead they were fat and round, nipples swollen to the size of thimbles. A bit dazed, Malcolm watched them heave up and down with Tim’s heavy breathing.

“Yeah,” Tim huffed as he leaned on the filing cabinet. “It turns out you did get me pregnant somehow, you fucking cocksucker.”

That isn’t an insult, Malcolm thought distractedly.

“The doctorsays my body is overreacting to the new hormones or shit. Like, my system sees the pregnancy hormones as so alien, its having this overly sensitized reaction. Hence, these fucking things.” He motioned towards his fun-bags.

Malcolm was salivating.

“Can hardly even fucking hide them,” Tim went on bitterly. “At this rate…” he trailed off, looking daunted.

Malcolm closed in. “’the fuck, Harris.”

Tim glared hatefully up at him.

“You’re a damn freak,” Malcolm went on, enjoying himself far too much. “Like a fucking cow.”

Malcolm enjoyed how Tim’s cheeks reddened.

“Hardly even a month in and bigger tits than most women.”

“Shut up,” Tim hissed.

But Malcolm cornered him there, until Tim was pressing himself back against the wall yet his tits were still a hair from brushing against Malcolm’s shirt.

“Getting ready to feed them,” Malcolm remarked.

“F-feed?” Tim stammered.

“I wonder how many,” Malcolm went on. “Has to be a lot. Fuck, just look at you.”

The intercom chimed. “Mr. Harris, your 3 o’clock is here,” intoned Tim’s assistant.

“J-Just hold on a minute!” Tim stammered back. He again began to fumble with his shirt, trying in vain to cover himself back up. Maybe he would have succeeded had Malcolm not pressed so closely, giving Tim as little space as possible.

“It’s only gonna get worse,” Malcolm mused. He couldn’t wait to see it.

“G-give me some space,” Tim stuttered.

“Let’s make it worse,” Malcolm thought aloud.

“Fuck yo…” Tim lost his words in a breath as Malcolm reached out to cradle the side of Tim’s right breast, gently.

“Feels good?” Malcolm taunted. He lightly grazed the nipple with his thumb, causing Tim to hiss another curse. “Yeah. Feels real good,” Malcom concluded with a sneer. He cupped the breast more firmly, causing Tim to whimper.

“My doctor said I shouldn’t really t-touch—”

“Oh, I’ll do more than touch,” Malcolm countered lecherously, leaning in, unable to stop.

“Ohhhh…” Tim moaned when Malcolm’s lips connected to one of Tim’s swollen pink nipples. Tim seemed to go tense, then slumped, head going back and eyelids fluttering closed. “I don’t… I can…ohhh…” Tim rambled, his hands shaking as they found Malcolm’s head, fingers twisting through his hair, pulling Malcolm closer.

Malcolm sucked gently at first, enjoying the noises Tim made in response. “Your doctor said what?”

“Shut up,” Tim puffed out. “Shut…up—” he hissed as Malcolm gave another, stronger, pull. The sensation was like no other. Or so Malcolm had been told in the past.

Malcolm had never seen anyone’s body react this aggressively so early on in a pregnancy. It was confusing, but also fucking hot. Malcolm wanted to drown in these soft, fat tits. The fact that they were attached to the stringy Tim Harris with no accompaniment of a belly just made them all the hotter. They had just sprouted out of nowhere. How the hell was Tim gonna hide them? Malcolm felt himself getting very, very hard.

“God, why does that feel so good?” Tim whimpered, barely able to hold himself up even with the aid of the wall behind him. “What the hell are these things?”

“They’re a good fucking time,” Malcolm assured him. “You’re in for a treat, kid.”

“Don’t call me that,” Tim moaned. “Stop belittling me, you fucking savage.”

“You taste so good,” Malcolm mumbled on Tim’s supple tit-flesh. He gave another healthy drag, causing Tim’s breath to shutter out of his chest. “If you’re this busty in a couple of weeks, can’t imagine what you’ll look like in a few months.”

“Oh…” Tim wheezed out, looking terribly uneasy. But Malcolm kept him busy, circling the abused nipple with his tongue. As Malcolm moved onto the other breast, Tim’s eyelids fluttered shut again.

“We can have a lot of fun with these,” Malcolm said several moments later as he finally pulled off a wet pop.

Tim sank down the wall, dropping to his ass, looking boneless. His knees were drawn up the way they would be in eight months when he was fat as a pig and pushing several of Malcolm’s kids out of his perky little ass. His clean, crisp button-down shirt was now damp with sweat, his hair a disheveled mess. He had to have missed about two meetings during their time there, indulging in his very new, and very delicious body.

Tim’s nipples were even more puffy than they had been before. He was grimacing oddly, like he was uncomfortable.

Malcolm almost laughed. “What is it?” he asked, where he loomed above.

“I don’t know,” said Tim breathlessly. “Tingling. P-pressure?” He winced, looking perplexed.

Oh yes. “Sounds about right,” Malcolm said, unable to help licking his lips again. “And heat?”

“Y-yeah,” Tim managed, looking so helpless. His hands gingerly cupped his heaving breasts, which were still so flushed and sleek after their recent fondling. They definitely looked more swollen than they had been before.

Malcolm shook his head in amusement. He had outdone himself yet again. “That’s normal, Tim. That just means you —”

“Mgghhh…” Tim groaned, grimacing and arching, and — and leaking. His nipples started to leak, right there, for the very first time. Malcolm watched with rapt attention as the first droplets delicately pushed free, pattering on the thighs of Tim’s expensive trousers.

“What the fuck!?” Tim cried.

“Yeah,” said Malcolm, grinning. “Didn’t I mention? That tends to happen when you play with them. You get over-stimulated. Food for the baby.” He chuckled.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” said Tim, fumbling and panicking. His hands were fidgeting to do something he couldn’t decide on, cupping the masses, then tugging at either side of his shirt, as though to close the buttons. But that just wasn’t going to happen. Not now. Tim whimpered as his nipples dripped more. He drew in a deep breath, then released it, his tits bobbing correspondingly.

Malcolm’s grin broadened. “Christ.” Tim looked so fucking good right then, helplessly unwound, betrayed by his own body. The things Malcolm wanted to do to him.

But Malcolm had more restraint than that. So he abstained. It felt too much like cheating when it wasn’t purposeful. When he wasn’t getting a guy pregnant, or inducing him. Something along those lines.

He stepped back, shaking his head at the businessman’s sorry state. “Good luck kid.”

Then Malcolm left, feeling terribly proud, proud of things he knew to be unspeakable.

“Mr. Harris? Tim, are you there?” Malcolm heard on the intercom right before the office door shut behind him.

-

When he was alone at the house, Malcolm found himself visiting the security feeds more often than not. He liked to admire his handiwork, even if it was from afar.

It reminded him of how many men he had knocked up, whether at personal residences or company offices. Running a security firm was a perfect job to facilitate Malcolm’s recreational activities. He got to meet prospects, impregnate them, then monitor the whole thing, whether up close in person or through the security camera feeds, all of which he could access at any given moment.

It was demented, yet it was just a part of Malcolm’s everyday routine. It had been going on for years with no stop in sight. It was just too perfect an operation for him to back out.

Malcolm found himself looking at Brooks again, the man waddling around his home residence. Of the people Malcolm would spot on the various feeds, Brooks was most present. He was always at home, fidgeting or pacing.

He took leave from work, Malcolm figured. And perhaps Brooks wasn’t too conscious or caring of the living room security cam. The man was preoccupied, after all.

He was huge. Even on camera, colors faded, edges distorted, he was huge, his belly round and protruding, massive as it bulged away from his torso. Malcolm wanted to know what was going on in there. And he wanted to know the other man’s story.

Admittedly, Malcolm could only vaguely remember fucking him. Malcolm really did need to start taking notes. It had been quick and easy. The security consult and same-day installation – the whole package. Getting Brooks in bed had hardly taken any effort. The man had been flirty and sexual, all too keen for a quick hookup with some brawny stranger who didn’t matter. He’d had no clue what he was in for. And Malcolm hadn’t much cared much, either. He hadn’t really wanted Brooks, or targeted him, even. It was just convenient. Just another notch on his belt that he would forget about.

It had been a while since Malcolm had noticed or even remembered Brooks. Not until the other day, when Malcolm had spotted him while going through the camera feeds.

Malcolm hadn’t thought much of impregnating the guy. Brooks hadn’t been particularly special, not interesting or noteworthy, not unique enough that Malcolm would keep track of him.

Malcolm had been wrong.

“What the hell’s he got in there?” Malcolm muttered as he stared. Had to be twins. No, had to be three, at least. “Fuck.” I need to see him. The thought was resounding, the compulsion overwhelming, even though it wasn’t Malcolm’s style. He didn’t like to go to private residences, that was too messy. There was less ease of excusing his presence or just slipping off into the crowd like he could at businesses.

Still, Malcolm didn’t think he had any other option. Brooks was big, and bursting, and Malcolm fucking had to see him.