Bad Roommate, Part 18 (Patreon)

$5/Bronze Directory
$10/Silver Directory
$20/Gold Directory

Story Schedule

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

Previous Chapter

-

Kyle felt humiliated.

He found himself locked in the laundry room, breathing heavily, his mind reeling from the knowledge that he was bigger than Becca.

Becca, who was almost at term with fucking twins.

Kyle thought of all the amused smiles, the inside jokes, and the eye-rolls he and Milton had exchanged at Becca’s expense. Becca would whine that she was “as big as a house,” to which Kyle would mouth “bigger,” causing Milton to snort in silent laughter.

Now Kyle was starting to wonder if he was the butt of all these jokes. He had wanted to think he was imagining it, but he had seen the comparison with his own two eyes. With his abdomen pressed to Becca’s, it had been abundantly clear that his was bigger.

Kyle supposed it was true that most people had no perspective of the size of their own bodies.

Milton would have noticed. But had he mentioned anything?

Kyle inhaled deeply, then pushed the air out of his lungs. He took several more long breaths, trying to temper his humiliation. He supposed this was karma. He had been the one making the jokes, after all.

Kyle pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, trying to steadily calm himself down. His navel was nudging against the washing machine where he stood, the metallic surface pleasantly cool even through the T-shirt stretched over Kyle’s form.

This was stupid. Why was he freaking out over something dumb? Who the hell cared about how he compared to Becca? It was such an arbitrary comparison. It wasn’t as if Kyle didn’t know he was fucking massive. His hand trembled slightly as he palmed the side of the huge swell of his belly. He choked out a bitter laugh as his eyes drifted over the surrounding paraphernalia. They paused on a drying rack, where he saw a single piece of clothing hanging crisp there, probably since the day before. It was Becca’s. It was some sort of —girdle. For her pregnancy. Kyle reached out, fingers closing around the freshly washed material, confirming that it was completely dry now.

Kyle could tell that the material was stretchy. He lifted it from the rack, bringing it closer, holding it up to himself. He wasn’t sure why, but he found himself undoing the latches, and stretching it across his protruding swell.

Albeit round, his belly-breast was very soft and malleable, always jiggling and wobbling as his back arched and strained to support it. As with some of Becca’s other pregnancy-specific attire and gadgets, this contraption certainly intrigued him. He found himself wrapping the girdle around his own waist, gingerly at first, but then with effort as he stretched it, trying to fit it across the full extent of his mass. If it suited Becca, then certainly it would fit him.

Kyle groaned, twisting and straining as he tried to get the clasps to connect. He probably should have emptied himself first. That would have done it. But he was sure he could just — “Errgghhh…” he groaned, his milk-filled belly shuddering, as if to protest his efforts to confine it.

God, he was close. Just another inch and — Kyle grunted as all five of his nipples pulsed, the one at his core tensing and aching, getting ready to release against the pressure. He stumbled back against the wall, refusing to relinquish this task, because he was so close. His face reddened as his belly warmed and tightened, the four breasts wobbling on his chest already leaking persistent droplets of milk.

The sound of a shriek caused Kyle to freeze. The girdle snapped away from him, then dropped to the floor.

Panting, he waddled to the laundry room door, his hands cradling his packed belly to keep it from bobbing too excessively. “Becca?” Kyle gasped out as he opened the door, stumbling out of the laundry room.

She responded with a whining noise somewhere down the hall, maybe in the living room. “Kyle,” she cried out, her voice thick with pain. “Oh god, I think —ngghhhhhh —I’m in labor!”

-

Milton met them at the hospital. He had Becca taken to a luxury maternity wing with large, private suites reserved for public figures, celebrities, and ultra-wealthy families. Becca was attended to by a swarm of the best OB-GYNs in the city. Despite all the thrashing, cursing, screaming, and writhing, she had a surprisingly fast labor, her twins arriving in only six hours.

While Milton stayed by her side for the whole process, Kyle hung back, rather uncomfortable between the frequent stares he got from the surrounding doctors and nurses, to that perpetual, physical discomfort that filled his body.

He excused himself to the bathroom several times, where he could breathe, cup himself, or sometimes dig his pumps out of his satchel and offer himself a little relief from the mounting tension.

He felt so overheated, his body drenched in sweat. Which was unsurprising, given that Kyle was wearing a massive baggy jacket that would have been amorphous on anyone else, but still rather framed his abnormalities. It was just another feeble attempt to hide what had become of him. Honestly, Kyle was not sure why he bothered.

Kyle leaned down and splashed his face with cool water, groaning as his tender belly-nipple pressed against the edge of the porcelain sink. The four breasts stacked on his chest were hot and bloated, aching for attention. Kyle found that he was attending to those with decreasing frequency as the demands of his belly-breast grew more intense by the day. Dealing with his over-laden body almost felt like a full-time job. It was a good thing he did not have an actual job, Kyle supposed.

With a sigh, he pushed himself out of the bathroom, and returned to Becca’s suite, trying to look pleasant and invisible at the same time. Kyle was relieved to see that the doctors and nurses had all left by then, offering Becca some privacy.

Milton stood beside the bed, gazing fondly at Becca as she cradled two little pink bundles of blankets in her arms.

Kyle could not help smiling as he joined Milton at the bedside. Becca looked enamored by her sleeping newborns. “Congratulations,” Kyle said softly.

Becca raised her head to beam at him, tears visible in the corners of her eyes.

She looked beautiful. Kyle could not help noticing how her body had changed, her abdomen no longer looking inflated under the sheets pulled over her. There may have still been a little weight there, but she had otherwise gone back to normal. She had shed the weight the twins had added to her body, and had returned to being a slim, flexible, wholly-functional young woman.

Kyle felt a twinge of jealousy.

Which was ridiculous. There was no comparison.

It was not as though he could just take his weight off. Even if he somehow got all the gallons of milk he was carrying pumped out of him, there was still a huge amount of flesh, fat, and, he supposed, glandular tissue, that made up his breasts. Not to mention that it would all rapidly fill up again with even more milk. There would be no reprieve. This was just what he was now.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” Becca asked, her voice thick.

Kyle opened his mouth to respond, but then he saw one of the twins stir, mouth opening wide, face scrunching adorably. Then the baby started to cry: a hoarse, squalling noise.

Kyle’s heart raced, his eyes widening as he felt — “Nrrgghhhh…” he groaned as all five of his nipples started to sting, then an unbelievable pressure pulsed through all his mounds, flesh tightening, straining, and pushing out.

His jacket started hugging into him as Kyle puffed out a breath, hunching forward as he clutched his massive belly-breast. It was growing. His heart pounded in his ears as the wails of the infant continued to reverberate off his skull. Soon the other twin joined in, Kyle’s belly achingly tight, milk gushing into his jacket as his mounds continued to throb with growth.

Becca and Milton were gaping at him in shock. Kyle’s jacket started to tear, his back arching, his abdomen tensing painfully, pushing and tightening, growing bigger and wider, feeling ready to burst from the surges of milk rapidly blooming inside of it.

Somehow, Kyle managed to stagger towards the door. “I –” he choked out, “— h-have to…” But he did not bother to finish. He had to get out of there, away from the crying. They were hungry. Kyle whimpered as a quaver rolled through his mountainous belly, the four honeydews on his chest bobbing and squirting in tandem.

He got himself out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. He moaned deliriously as he stumbled a few steps down the hall, holding onto the wall. Then he leaned back against it, gasping for breath, and compulsively stroking and cradling his huge belly-breast where it now protruded free of his soaking jacket which was split right down the middle.

The sweater and shirt he had on was drawn up, no longer fully covering the globe. A passing nurse gave him a disturbed look as she made her way down the hall. Fluid was dripping from Kyle’s top, and he knew he was making a puddle on the floor.

Still gasping for breath, he somehow straightened himself and resumed walking —waddling. He shuffled to the elevator, gripping what he could of his jacket around himself. In a daze, he descended, and found the exit, ignoring the people who gawked, stumbled, or just made way, as though afraid he might touch them.

The car was pulled up at the pickup area.

“Milton notified me that you were on your way down, sir,” said the driver neutrally, keeping his eyes forward as Kyle clambered into the back of the vehicle.

Kyle did not respond, he just tried to breathe, acutely aware of how much heavier he felt now; how much more awkward everything had become abruptly. The back of Milton’s luxury car had never felt so cramped as it did at that moment, Kyle’s massive belly-breast perched on his thighs, overfilling his lap. He felt squashed beneath it. It was so huge; it was taking over.

That morning he had been bigger than Becca. Becca, who had been due with twins. So how did he look now? As though he was pregnant with triplets? Quads?

Kyle gave a weak, bitter laugh. Then he just resumed breathing, trying to calm himself down. Calm his body down.

A call came through on the intercom. “You there?” Milton’s voice said.

“Yeah,” Kyle managed, rolling his eyes. He slumped back in his seat.

“Are you alright?” Milton asked, his tone aloof.

“Peachy.”

There was a pause. “That’s never happened before,” Milton noted.

“Yeah, well none of this has happened before,” Kyle motioned to his body even though Milton couldn’t see him. “There’s not exactly a case study.” He grimaced at another twinge of pressure. He hurriedly tried to clear his mind; not think about Becca or anything. “Mgghhh…”

Milton snorted. “I’ll be down in a couple minutes.” Then the call disconnected.

A couple of minutes. Kyle briefly humored the idea of convincing the driver to just take him home without waiting for Milton. But it seemed like this enterprise would require more energy than Kyle had to offer. So instead, he simply dropped his head back and closed his eyes.

-

Kyle was wiped out. It seemed like his body was in overdrive. Everything was hazy, even when Milton spoke, giving him a once-over every couple seconds with an odd look on his face. Kyle would nod but did not really hear him. As soon as they got home, Kyle went to bed and fell asleep, even with his milk continuing to gush into his straining clothing.

When Kyle awoke some hours later, he was surprised to find an appropriately-sized suction cup attached to each of his nipples: likely Milton’s doing. It was surprisingly considerate, and Kyle certainly appreciated it.

Kyle shoved himself upright, wincing as he plucked the cups away, one by one. It took some effort to heave himself off the bed, after which he pulled on the biggest T-shirt he could find, then shuffled out of the room, supporting what he could of his lower belly with his hands. I’m fucking enormous, Kyle thought, feeling overwhelmed with the soft, pillowy mass protruding from his body.

Milton was seated in the living room with a glass of wine. He had just finished a phone call when Kyle walked in. Milton gazed at him, his lips quirked in amusement. “Look at you.”

“Yeah,” Kyle breathed.

“Maybe you should borrow some of Becca’s maternity clothes,” Milton said facetiously.

“Shut up.” Kyle reddened, his mind drifting back to his antics in the laundry room. But with how heavy this thing was getting, it didn’t seem like a bad idea.

“That was actually her on the phone. I think she’s having some issues, or more like…reservations. I have no clue if she was joking, but she wanted to know if you have interest in donating some of your time or resources.”

Kyle froze. Something bubbled inside of him, his face growing hot. “I’m a man,” he seethed in offense. “I’m not some fucking wet nurs—” Just saying it was triggering. Kyle felt dizzy, his belly tensing. He tried to take retreat, but just ended up clutching an end-table to keep his balance.

“Yeah, it’s stupid. Ignore her,” Milton said, standing. He looked entirely relaxed as he approached, closing in. “She’s not blessed like you are.”

“You’re b-both idiots,” Kyle stammered, but suddenly he couldn’t help smiling a little. At least Milton had broken the tension and disrupted the mental and physical landslide Kyle had been headed down.

“The goods are only for me. I get it.”

“Fuck off.”

On the contrary, Milton kissed him, Kyle leaning in. And from there life proceeded sans one high-pitched interloper.

Next Chapter