Shark, Part 15 - Male Version (Patreon)

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Summary: In his career, Logan likes to fuck his competition. Literally. He gets them pregnant and they get out of his way. Contains: Male: pregnancy, belly expansion, breast expansion, lactation, multiples, weight gain, stuffing.

Previous Chapter

-

Rush-hour traffic was brutal that evening. Logan’s car had hardly moved at all in the past hour. He knew there was an accident up ahead, and things weren’t going to improve anytime soon. Rather than sitting there staring at the cars ahead of him in frustration any longer, he turned onto an exit, getting off the highway and ending up right back in the city, where he had started.

Logan had felt unfocused since he had dropped Tim off at the hotel earlier in the evening, coming to terms with the likelihood that this was the last time he would ever see Tim, and in his current state: so wonderfully, ludicrously, ripe.

Logan drove aimlessly around the city for a while, circling the corporate offices several times. Eventually he found himself pulling up to Tim’s hotel again. He wasn’t sure what he was doing. The valet opened the door for him.

“Good evening sir,” the valet said, waiting expectantly.

Logan was prompted into action. He found himself getting up, handing over his keys. “I’ll just be a few hours. Grabbing a drink.” Logan went inside and made his way to the hotel bar, which was cozy and dim. There were only two other people inside, dressed in business attire just like Logan was. One was sipping his drink while looking off through a window. The other was scanning her phone with her eyes.

Logan took a seat at the bar, ordering himself a scotch. When his mind wasn’t wandering, he went on his phone, going over emails and doing some light correspondence for work. He ordered a second drink, and then a double-shot, as minutes turned into hours.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. What was he still doing here? It was 9 PM, and traffic surely would have improved by now. Yet rather than getting up to leave, Logan found himself opening the messaging app on his phone. He scrolled to Tim’s name.

Hey, you still up? Logan asked.

He waited a couple minutes, but there was no response. He couldn’t believe how idiotically he was behaving. “Can I close my tab?” Logan called to the bartender.

A concierge entered the bar from the hotel lobby. He looked around briefly, before spotting Logan and making his way over, then bending to Logan’s ear.

“Logan Graham?” the concierge asked.

“Yes,” Logan responded.

“Mr. Sao requests that you meet him upstairs. Room 324.”

Logan’s eyebrows raised. He nodded, and the concierge left.

Logan finished the remainder of his drink and closed out his tab. He then stood, walked out of the bar, and went into the elevator where he selected the third floor.

Minutes later, he was approaching room 324, his mind continuing to cycle through possibilities as the effects of the alcohol left him feeling pleasantly untroubled. But surely this was work-related. He knew he shouldn't let his imagination get away with him.

The door to room 324 opened before Logan even had the chance to knock. Suddenly, there stood Tim, in just some shorts and a tank top that was stretched to transparency on his swollen body.

Logan found his eyes pinned to Tim’s belly; the way it heaved gently, seeming to strain his shirt with every inhalation he took.

For a moment, the two just stared at each other.

“Nice of you to stop by,” Tim muttered.

Logan lifted his gaze to Tim’s face. The younger man looked pink, breathless, and somehow hungry.

Logan swallowed, and gave a nod, not trusting his voice at that moment.

“Come on in,” said Tim, all but pulling Logan inside. As the door closed behind them, Logan found the two of them very close indeed. The heat and heaviness of Tim’s orb was pressing into Logan’s torso, and Logan could feel the fluttering movements that littered it in intervals, as well as the occasional shivers that overcame the mass as a whole.

Tim was breathing deeply, as though trying to focus on Logan past the distraction of all the lives housed inside of him. He was a breeder. A baby machine. Logan’s hand reached out to cup the swell, thoughtlessly.

Tim inhaled, his eyelids fluttering as he pressed his massive belly harder against Logan.

“How many?” Logan asked, just out of curiosity. He dragged his tongue over his dry lips.

“No idea,” Tim responded, his voice breathy and his rapt gaze pinned on Logan. “To be honest, I don’t even want to know,” he added with a nervous smile, his carefully cultivated poise discarded here, where it was just the two of them.

Logan couldn’t take it. He couldn’t wait. He leaned down and kissed Tim unthinkingly, and was rewarded when Tim kissed him back. Tim kissed him roughly, as though he had been desperate and waiting, as the two stumbled towards the bed. Logan held onto him, uncertain of Tim’s balance with all that frontal weight.

Tim turned to face the bed, one of his knees going up on the mattress, as Logan kissed down his neck and along his spine and Tim trembled with each beat of contact. Logan inhaled him. His hands slid up and around, stroking and exploring his every inch of taut flesh that his fingers encountered. Soon he found Tim’s breasts, Tim inhaling sharply. Logan was silently amazed by the plump fullness, and the heat coming off them. They felt heavy and fat – engorged, no doubt. “You grew a lot here,” Logan noted huskily, each of Tim’s breasts overflowing in his hands. He remembered only a few weeks ago when Tim’s chest had been entirely flat. Of course, male pregnancy was quite transformative. That, and the lactation supplements Tim had been slipping.

Tim nodded jerkily, breathing heavily, belly rising and falling, rising and falling, and Logan couldn’t help reaching down to cup the swell again. Bigger than a beach ball, wider than the rest of him. How could one little nineteen-year-old be so damn full?

“Logan,” Tim pleaded.

Logan was already pushing down Tim’s shorts, enjoying the softness of his plump hips and ass.

Tim grunted as Logan spread him wider. Logan was so fucking hard, he felt like he could lose himself right then.

Logan didn’t know why they had been fighting it until now. Why had they waited when they could have been doing this all along? Logan continued to cradle Tim’s belly, his free hand undoing his own belt.

And then he gave in. He couldn’t care less of the consequences – physical, emotional, or professional. Because fucking Tim was luxurious, it was like a dream. Tim was some perverse deity whose sole purpose was to be fucked by Logan; some pregnant whore, practically pleading for more babies.

As though it was possible. Logan pretended that it was. He pretended that he was getting Tim even more pregnant. He imagined Tim’s body just exploding with growth until Tim collapsed beneath it.

Logan was close, but he tried to hold on, through their rhythmic grunts, Tim’s belly bobbing with every thrust. Logan pumped him hard; he wanted Tim to feel all of him, to feel Logan reverberating throughout his whole body. Tim’s face was twisted, his breasts bouncing, his hands gripping his belly hard as though to contain the pressure of his fucking litter. His cheeks were red, eyes squeezed shut. He begged Logan to fuck him; fuck him harder. Logan knew he should be gentler, but he couldn’t, not with Tim.

Logan exploded inside him, Tim groaning and arching as his thighs quavered, Tim’s come splattering against the underside of his belly. Tim threw his head back as he groaned in pleasure. Logan was rigid, his eyes wide but sightless as he came harder than he ever had in his life.

Logan mentioned it after, when they were both lying across the mattress, panting as their bodies grew warm and languid.

Tim threw him a sleepy smile. “You think so?” he challenged, a knowing gleam to his eyes.

Admittedly, there might have been one occasion that could compete. The time he had fucked Colton and gotten him pregnant. But rather than saying as much, Logan muttered, “I know so,” as he kissed Tim’s nape, his hands back to indulgently exploring the outrageous jut of Tim’s belly.

He was pink and ripe, his skin dewy and seeming to glow.

“Staying the night?” Tim asked him hoarsely.

“Yeah,” Logan muttered as he pressed his chest more firmly against Tim’s naked back, watching Tim’s body heave with his long, steady breaths. Tim’s fingers reached back to stroke Logan’s thigh in a very teasing, provocative way, and suddenly Logan suspected neither of them were getting any sleep that night.

-

“You okay?” Logan said.

It was the next morning, the two of them at the airport. Tim seemed rather flustered, his face flushed and his forehead damp. There was a troubled look in his eyes as he nodded distractedly while fumbling with his satchel.

He was wearing custom-made trousers and a blazer. Logan was perpetually amazed with how Tim was able to keep up with clothing, given the uniqueness of his body. It had all made sense earlier that morning when Logan had met the personal tailor that was kept at the hotel for Tim. The elderly man had bowed and wished Tim a safe trip home as Tim stuffed a generous tip in his aged hands.

Logan wondered if Tim was anxious about the flight or just in a rush, but he had been tightlipped all morning. Sometimes Tim would make expressions of discomfort or strain, his face twisting at irregular intervals. “Yes, fine,” Tim breathed, his words clipped, as his hands anxiously rubbed his belly. At least, what he could reachof it. Logan was certain that there was no way Tim could still wrap his arms around the orb.

Logan should have probably left by now. He suspected he was annoying the younger man. Because Logan was obsessed, and entranced, and couldn’t stop looking. Was it bigger? Logan was certain he was imagining it.

“Logan.”

Logan wrenched his gaze up, looking at Tim’s face again. It was a process he had been repeating for the past couple hours, reacquainting himself with the person attached to this ludicrous swell. Tim’s face was getting increasingly perturbed, and Logan knew he was acting like a buffoon. But somehow he still couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t stop remembering what Tim looked like under all those clothes.

“Tim…seriously, you feeling alright?” Logan asked.

Tim’s blazer was looking tighter than it had earlier, now visibly straining around the buttons, but maybe Logan was imagining it. Then again, maybe not.

“Yes…godd…I just n-need to make this flight,” Tim groaned as they finally approached the gate, where Tim would be the last person there to board. Logan had escorted him all the way there, unable to bring himself to leave Tim’s side. Because of his prestigious loyalty program under the Boddims company umbrella, Logan had been allowed access without issue.

Tim moved in the most awkward and endearing waddle, truly struggling to tote around his mound. He offered his boarding pass to the airline workers with a trembling hand.

The workers just stared, the same way other airport staff and pedestrians had stared at Tim through every step of this process. Logan remembered earlier when security had pulled Tim aside and given him a full pat-down. Again, Logan’s gaze drifted to Tim’s body. Tim’s nipples were swollen and bulging prominently, even under his shirt and blazer. Below them, his belly almost looked like it was pulsating, Tim shuddering as his face grew redder from the strain. Logan knew that Tim would have one of those private business-class compartments on the flight. He just hoped it was sufficiently…roomy.

One of the airline workers slowly took Tim’s boarding pass, her eyes not deviating from Tim’s body.

Logan absently patted Tim’s shoulder. This was it. This was goodbye. He heard the small group bickering, but it seemed muffled and far away.

“No, that isn’t right,” Tim snapped.

Logan came out of his reverie.

“I’m only six months along,” Tim insisted.

“Sir, you are clearly—” The airline worker cut herself off, looking flustered. “You’re obviously past the cut-off,” she stuttered, trying her best to maintain her professionalism despite her dubious astonishment.

“No he isn’t, he’s only in his second trimester,” Logan insisted. “If you don’t believe us, we can give you his medical report.” Even then, his eyes darted down, drinking in the ludicrous globe of flesh and baby as it heaved.

Rise and fall. Rise and fall. Rise…rise…

Tim was pouring sweat, looking panicked. He desperately rubbed his flanks as he looked at Logan entreatingly, “L-Logan…”

This just evoked visions of last night. Pumping and filling Tim. Releasing inside of Tim. Releasing more than Logan had thought was even possible for one man.

“God,” Tim choked, his eyes squeezing shut, his jaw clenching. He threw his head back, “Errrghhhhh…!”

Tim’s belly heaved forcefully. It was throbbing and pushing, shoving outward as his buttons strained and his belly expanded.

It was growing fast! Now Tim’s blazer buttons were tearing off, his belly pushing out as his shirt slid upward, no longer able to accommodate it. Logan futilely held onto Tim’s shoulder, but Tim was already gripping the counter for balance, arching and whining as his abdomen exploded with growth, and Logan couldn’t tear his eyes away. Logan couldn’t even control the way his dick was straining his trousers. Tim pulsed and grew, belly advancing, growing bigger and wider, inching forward as he moaned.

When it was over, Tim’s belly was massive – just outlandishly fucking huge. It lurched, then shuddered. Tim moaned as it gurgled. He looked terribly dizzy, even swaying a little, panting and sweating, a string of drool rolling down his chin. Then he started to lose his balance. Logan quickly grabbed him from behind, his hands looping under Tim’s breasts as he tried to hold him upright.

“Someone call a doctor!” Logan demanded.

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