Bad Roommate, Part 9 - Female Version (Patreon)

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Note: This is a female version of Bad Roommate.

Summary: Violet’s roommate secretly doses her with experimental drugs, causing Violet’s stomach to progressively transform into a giant breast. Violet is oblivious and horrified as to what is happening to her body. In the meantime, her roommate secretly documents the transformation. Contains: Female: belly expansion, breast expansion, belly-breast, and more.

Previous Chapter 

-

Marta seemed to think she had lost her mind. She gave an indecipherable whisper as she stared at Violet with wide, terrified eyes, before turning on her heel and fleeing. Later, when Pilar came by the room, and Violet showed the older woman what she was, Pilar too ran off. But Pilar returned within the hour rambling prayers and splashing Violet with what Violet presumed was holy water.

It wasn’t for another day that Marta came back. To check on Violet. To try to understand. Which was a steep order, because Violet hardly understood it, herself.

And then maybe, Marta realized, that even if Violet was some malicious, supernatural being, Violet had already been nursing the baby for a few days now. Hector was no longer fussy, and had even managed to put on a little weight. So if Hector was doomed, Marta might as well be too. It was too late for Marta to claim Violet’s milk was poisonous. And it was too late for Marta to refuse temptation, at least in regards to her child. So if baby Hector risked damnation, Marta may as well risk it too.

Marta tasted Violet’s milk. Just a droplet, that Marta plucked up with the tip of her pointer finger. For a moment, Marta’s eyes went huge, but then drifted closed as she savored it, her finger in her mouth, her shoulders sagging. Finally, Marta gave Violet a look of wonder.

Violet nodded weakly, flustered and sweaty. “It’s just m-milk,” she managed. “I just want to help. Th-there’s so much of it. It—it’s almost h-hurting me.” Violet was still perched on the bed, her hands lightly cupping her hugely swollen mass. “We can help each other,” she whispered hoarsely. “You – you need food. And I—I….” Violet desperately needed relief. But getting the woman to taste her milk, and to drink directly from her nipple, were two entirely different things. For the umpteenth time, Violet regretted leaving Alex.

For a while, Marta just stared at Violet, looking unnerved. Pilar arrived, and lingered behind her daughter, whispering words Violet could not understand. They gazed down on Violet like the freak was.

Marta came closer. She reached down, resting a hand across Violet’s sweaty cheek. Marta closed her eyes and seemed to steel herself for a moment, then suddenly leaned down, smashing her lips to Violet’s belly-nipple with a force that made Violet yelp out.

As she sucked, Violet’s muscles practically seized, causing her to slump back and release a wheezy sigh.

Tears poured down Violet’s cheeks. She was just so heavy and tight. Violet hadn’t thought there would be a way out of this predicament. Instead, Marta was offering her mercy where Violet didn’t deserve it. Marta took long draws and generous gulps, drinking with vigor, decreasing the pressure inside of Violet, if just marginally. Violet felt better than she had in ages, just laying there, allowing her head to fall back as she stared at the ceiling. It must have been fifteen minutes before Marta finally pulled back, wiping her lips on her sleeve.

“Delicious,” Marta whispered, sort of dazed.

Violet sniffed. “Thanks,” she managed, assuming that counted as a compliment.

“This is the first time I don’t feel hungry in a very long time.”

Violet nodded. “I think — maybe I’m like this, because I’m supposed to help people.”

“I think so too,” Marta said.

-

Marta began to bring over some of the babies in the neighborhood. She would tell the parents that she had a visitor at her house who could nurse them. It wasn’t a lie. Violet soon found herself with an infant or two on her chest at any given moment of the day. Many were thin and malnourished like Hector had been. Marta continued to nurse from Violet’s belly, now several times a day, seeming to even prefer Violet’s milk over rice. Violet knew her milk was thick, and probably nourishing. She knew that human-produced milk was one of the most nutritious things someone could consume.

And eventually, to Violet’s utter surprise, Pilar came around. Pilar kneeled down and drank from Violet’s nipple while Violet was perched on the couch one evening. It lasted only five minutes, perhaps four minutes longer than the woman had intended, but when Pilar pulled back, she appeared a bit stunned. Perhaps she had not anticipated how palatable it would be. Violet didn’t blame her. The whole situation was just bizarre, and it hardly seemed sanitary to suck fluid from someone’s body.

But things didn’t end with Pilar. One day, to Violet’s shock, Marta brought one of her neighbors over. Not a baby or a child, but a young man. Just like the others, he was very thin. Violet sat frozen as Marta guided the young man to the living room, muttering softly in spanish to him, convincing him to approach. He gave Violet a wary look, and Violet tried not to squirm. It was hard to trust strangers when she was so vulnerable.

It took a good deal of convincing from Marta for Violet to pull up her shirt, revealing the swollen pink nub. The young man whispered a curse, and even tried to retreat, but he was weak, and Marta pushed him forward. Violet remained stiff, her eyes averted and her face flushed.

Eventually, with an abundance of pressure from Marta, the young man leaned down. As with Marta, and Pilar, he submitted to his hunger above logic. He pressed his lips to Violet’s belly-nipple, causing Violet’s eyes to flutter down as the young man sucked. And, Violet mused, maybe it wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it would be.

After that, Marta brought in an endless cycle of new faces. She would convince her neighbors, one by one, to visit Violet, and soon the whole community was in and out of Marta’s house. Once they got used to her, they would treat Violet lovingly, speaking to her, embracing her, or bringing her gifts before taking their turn to suckle. Violet found that she now spent most of her time perched on the couch, arched back as someone fed from her belly-nipple. On the occasions that she got a break, she would pull up a thin sheet to cover the mound. Otherwise, it was usually exposed, bulging out from her clothing. When mothers brought babies to see her, Violet usually gave the infants priority, clutching them to her chest as they drank the thinner milk produced there.

This went on for weeks, and Violet was proud to see that many people were putting on weight, Marta and Pilar included. The two women looked far healthier than they had when Violet had first met them. Their faces had filled out and bodies had softened. One morning, Marta hurried out of her bedroom and came over to Violet on the couch, laughing and crying simultaneously. Marta plopped onto the cushion beside Violet and clasped Violet’s hands.

“Violet, I am—how do you say? I am making milk!”

It took a moment for Violet to process that. “What?”

Marta motioned to her chest, and Violet stared at the mounds there, which looked full and plump. They had blossomed from nothing to full C-cups, and Violet hadn’t even noticed. As Marta wasn’t wearing a bra, Violet could see how swollen Marta’s nipples were through the thin dress she had on.

“This morning I was able to feed Hector!” Marta told Violet.

“That’s amazing,” Violet said. And over the course of the day, she began to pay better attention to the women who came to see her. Many of them had put on a decent amount of weight, and now that Violet was searching, she could see that most of them had experienced a good amount of breast growth. Most had C-cups, even D-cups, or larger. And they looked engorged. Violet could tell from experience how full and bloated their breasts were—too round to not be producing milk. Likely, many of these women would be able to nurse their own babies soon, if they weren’t already. It was truly fate that Violet had ended up in this small, struggling city. She couldn’t have been happier.

Soon Violet wasn’t nearly as busy anymore. People stopped bringing their babies as much. Even many of the adults stopped visiting her as frequently. In the absence of hunger, people had developed hope, drive, and strength to work in some cases.

It was a trickle effect. Violet had single-handedly stimulated the local economy.

Her milk was getting thicker. People were getting full faster when they drank from her. It also seemed to take people more effort to extract milk, sucking hard, their faces flushing. Even the milk Violet produced from the breasts on her chest was getting thicker, and children got fussy or irritable when they tried to nurse from her. All the parents stopped bringing their children to Violet altogether. Most of them didn’t need her anymore.

Violet was getting bigger. Even with all that she was able to release lately, her belly was only swelling. She couldn’t remember the last time she had gotten off the couch, but her belly was just massive. She estimated it was the size of a beach ball. It overflowed her lap and she was constantly clutching it, trying to keep it from spilling one way or another. Sometimes she felt like she could just teeter forward. Her belly-nipple pointed in different directions based on her position, and was a huge bulging protrusion, close to the size of a tennis ball. It pulsated visibly, and left her breathless.

Violet knew that she couldn’t stay here forever. The feedings grew fewer and further between. The people didn’t need her anymore. She knew it was time to go home.

Despite Marta’s initial protests, the older woman helped Violet get on her way. Marta cried, and hugged what she could reach of Violet, and thanked her for all that she had done.

“You are part of this community. And you are part of my family,” Marta assured. Then she pulled back a few strands of Violet’s hair, kissed her cheek, and saw her off.

-

Violet was huge, even for someone who was posing as pregnant. She had gotten several community members to drain her thoroughly before her departure, but she was still incredibly heavy, and was wobbling forward at a snail's pace. It was so weird to be out of the small Latin community where she had spent her summer. It had become a secondary home to her, and she had felt truly accepted and appreciated for the first time since this whole thing had started.

It was a long and slow trip back to her college town, and her milk was coming in faster than ever. It only took a few hours before she felt uncomfortably engorged again. In another few, her face was flushed and strained, sweat trickling down her throat as she breathed thinly, and struggled to bear her increasing weight.

She’d had to pay for two seats on the bus, because her belly was wider than the rest of her body, and would likely impose on anyone who attempted to sit beside her. People stared at her whenever they passed in the aisle. They would give her a passing glance, then freeze up, and practically double back to ogle at her inflated midsection. Her swell was so large, it was pressing hard to the seat in front of her, practically squishing her there as she gasped for breath, whimpering and squirming. The mounds on her chest had swollen up to H-cups over the summer.

She was just huge all over.

It was a relief to stagger back to campus, so heavy and delirious from fatigue by then, she could hardly notice the way people stopped in their tracks to gawk.

She was gripping her belly as tightly as she could, dragging herself forward one foot after the next. She felt like collapsing. She felt like bursting. She was breathing in heavy puffs, jaw clenched, eyes tearing up.

When she burst through her apartment door, the first thing she saw was Alex, and Violet was so relieved she could cry.

But her relief was quickly undercut by the sight of Alex’s body.

Alex had changed. She had…breasts. Two pairs of them. Violet’s jaw fell slack.

-

“Violet,” Alex blurted in shock. She hadn’t thought she’d ever see Violet again.

Alex was standing in the kitchenette holding a peanut butter and jelly sandwich while wearing a tank top and some shorts. She hadn’t been expecting any visitors, so she hadn’t been particularly discrete about her new developments when she had gotten dressed that morning. Two pairs of B-cup breasts were bulging evidently under the tight tank top. As Violet stared at them, Alex blushed, but then Alex found herself distracted by the sight of Violet’s own transformation. Violet’s belly was massive! She looked like she could barely stand! “What…the hell,” Alex managed, feeling herself salivate a bit. Her sandwich dropped to the floor. She had just gotten over her addiction to Violet’s milk. And now it was back in her face, more bizarre and blatant than ever before.

Alex tore her eyes away. No. She couldn’t do this anymore.

Violet managed to hobble inside, gripping hard on the doorframe, panting like a dog. “You — your chest,” she gasped out, clutching at her heaving belly with her free hand. “You got more b-boobs.”

Alex gulped, her face hot. “Yeah, they kinda just…popped out of nowhere after you left. Weird, r-right?”

“Yeah…” Violet seemed to snap out of her reverie, her face contorting in discomfort. “Christ, Alex, you gotta help me. I’m about to blow…nrrgghhhh!” Violet arched, pressing her huge mass harder into the tent of a shirt that she had on. And it really did look like it was inflating, some of the swell pushing out beneath the hem. The volleyball sized breasts on Violet’s chest wiggled as she struggled to breathe. The girl was a fucking whale, her huge belly spanning out several feet before her, her massive nipple looking as though it was contracting under the shirt. “C-Can’t—stand!” Violet gave a long groan and cursed.

“Shit,” Alex hurried over, and helped Violet to wobble over to the couch, where Violet plopped down then whined out, her mass jerking.

With shaking hands, Alex couldn’t help sliding up Violet’s shirt, just as milk, a small amount of it, began to ooze from her huge belly-nipple. It looked almost like pudding. It was practically too thick to even be considered milk anymore. Alex licked her lips.

“Fuck, I need you. Please,” Violet begged. She arched again and moaned, shoving her belly out so hard it looked like she was trying to separate it from her body.

Alex remembered the days of jonesing after Violet had left. She remembered how jittery and lost she had felt; the shaking, squirming and fidgeting. Then there had been the constant irritation of her ribs just under her chest. The moles she had developed there — or what she had thought to be moles, when they had first started to develop. But these things were different, they were responsive, hardening, and reacting. They were developing and pushing out, until she realized she had developed a second pair of fucking nipples. And things had only gone batshit from there.

Thankfully they hadn’t grown beyond B-cups. Alex was no longer ingesting Violet’s milk, and things had gotten under control with her hormones. She was a freak, but only when she didn’t disguise it. With a thick enough sweater, people hardly noticed.

But now Violet was back, and the temptation to drink was just painfully intense. Alex was supposed to have gotten past this.

“HELP ME!” Violet screamed. “GOD, I’M GONNA BLOW!” Her belly gave a forceful heave, the mass flushed red, veins pushing to the surface.

And Alex knew what she had to do.