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Bad Roommate, Part 15
🕑 Added 2023-01-15 05:49:43 +0000 UTCStory Directory: $5 Patrons
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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.
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Milton was constantly touching and fondling the swell. He was obsessed and delighted. He loved Kyle’s belly-breast. There was seldom a moment when they were together that Milton wasn’t making contact with it.
“Let me suck it,” Milton would say when they were sprawled in bed, Kyle lying back, breathing thinly. “Lemme suck it and made it big.”
And Kyle usually didbecause it felt fucking amazing to be consumed in such a way. There was an overabundance of eroticism and pleasure saturating his body. Often it even felt great to carry the burden of a milk-full belly, the weight of it filling him, the heat and pressure radiating in pulses of sensation.
Kyle was nervous to return to the club, but Milton was encouraging. He loved showing Kyle off. He wanted Kyle to flaunt his bizarre affliction.
People certainly raised their eyebrows when Kyle walked in with a tight shirt and a swollen belly, his huge belly-nipple sticking out against the very-thin material of the low-cut tank top he had on. His four upper breasts were round, fat EE-cups with nipples the size of marbles, and they weren’t even erect. His cleavage was generous and sweaty, tits bobbing with his stride. He knew he looked outrageous. People did double takes and stared. Some looked utterly confounded while others just grinned. They would have thought this was all some gimmick if they hadn’t already seen what Kyle’s body could do.
Milton’s arm was wrapped around Kyle, hand resting on Kyle’s belly, the way a doting husband might cup his pregnant wife’s baby bump. Frankly, it was embarrassing. Kyle managed to pull away as Milton was drawn into a conversation with an older guy named Victor.
“Kyle!” Conrad greeted him. “You…put on some weight,” he added with an uncertain grin, his eyes flickering to Milton, then down to Kyle’s gut again.
“Yeah, I…thought I’d try something new,” said Kyle with a nervous smile of his own. “Does it look alright?” He cupped the sides of his belly, lifting it slightly. Hilariously, he probably looked as though he was seven months pregnant. His jeans were pushed low by the swell, his top sometimes siding up to reveal a couple inches of bloated flesh beneath the hem.
“Of course, of course. You are full of surprises, my friend.”
Kyle’s smile broadened. As embarrassed as he was, this was kind of entertaining, if just for the shock value. It was fun to see peoples’ reactions.
Instead of trying to wedge himself on the couch of the booth, Kyle took a chair on the exterior, which just seemed easier. Milton sat close beside him, slinging his arm around the back of Kyle’s chair.
“The kid is something else,” Milton remarked to a smirking Gregory who was seated across from them.
“He certainly is.” Gregory leered.
“Hey, I’m nineteen,” Kyle reprimanded Milton playfully. Then he casually leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table, but also shelve his two pairs of chest-breasts on the tabletop. They bulged obscenely from his low-cut shirt, causing Gregory to become entranced by Kyle’s sweaty cleavage.
Milton seemed amused by the antics. His broad, calloused hand rubbed circles on Kyle’s belly-breast under the table.
“Getting full?” Milton murmured in his ear.
“Getting there,” Kyle softly responded, his cheeks flushed as he felt his body incrementally tightening up, his belly and four breasts steadily getting fuller and warmer in a weirdly appealing yet nerve-racking way.
“God, you’re a machine. Can’t wait to get you home.” Milton whispered even though they had only just gotten there. Despite that the two were talking softly, several of the people around the table were throwing glances, discreetly watching. Kyle was a spectacle.
“Why wait?” Kyle joked with a huff of a laugh.
Milton’s arm that was wrapped behind Kyle reached up to squeeze his lower left breast. Kyle groaned, his cheeks flaming. It wasn’t often that Milton groped him publicly, and it was mortifying, but it was also fucking hot.
“Good point,” Milton growled in his ear, and suddenly he was leaning down, tugging down Kyle’s shirt. Just before Kyle’s upper left breast could be fully exposed, Milton leaned down, taking the nipple between his lips, blocking it from view, and sucking.
Kyle gasped. “Ohhh…”
Kyle’s mind was blank. What were they doing? Milton was suckling him publicly? What the fuck?
And yet it felt so good and so hot. This was crazy. It was — inappropriate! It was embarrassing but it was still fucking amazing. Kyle could feel everyone in the room staring, having dropped their independent conversations to goggle what Milton was doing.
Kyle cupped the back of Milton’s head in a daze. “Oh god,” he murmured, fingers twisting through Milton’s hair.
-
It was several days later. Kyle was flushed and sweaty, but still stubbornly playing his video game as he tried to focus on the 75-inch TV screen and not the varying degrees of discomfort littering his body.
At the sight of a woodland Orc, Kyle leaned forward for a better look, but then yelped and jerked back at the discomfort of unintentionally leaning pressure on his gut.
And what a gut that was.
Kyle lightly rubbed the side of the swell. Evenings were just awful these days. He groaned, lowering the controller, unable to take anymore. He pulled off his headset to cut off the expletives of his teammates voicing their displeasure of his abrupt game inactivity.
Kyle panted as he leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes, arching his sore back a little. It seemed to be getting worse every day. This level of engorgement was becoming too uncomfortable, beyond what had been pleasurable pulses. Now he was just tight. He wished that Milton would let him pump during the day. But, of course, that wasn’t part of the arrangement. Milton wanted Kyle to wait.
Kyle opened his eyes when he heard the front door opening. He looked up in relief, chest heaving. Milton was already undoing his tie as he walked in.
Kyle quickly grabbed the remote and turned off the TV. “Took you long enough,” he said breathily.
“Long day,” Milton muttered back. “You know the end of the quarter is always busy.” Milton shrugged off his blazer and dumped it on the back of a chair. The maid would pick it up later.
“Take your time,” Kyle hissed sarcastically.
“Mmmm,” Milton hummed as he undid his watch, still not paying much attention to Kyle.
Yet the mere sight of the Milton was sending Kyle’s body into overdrive. The anticipation. Kyle could feel the heat intensifying, the pressure increasing. His face scrunched as he tried to hold it together as his five mounds heaved and his belly-nipple ached for release. He moved his hand towards the nub, but stopped himself, not daring to touch it. It puffed out against his shirt, getting even more erect and distended; just hugely swollen. As Kyle grunted, Milton finally glanced his way, wearing a faint smirk. He knew what he was doing to the younger man.
“Get over here, you dick,” Kyle gasped out. “I’ve got…your snack,” he managed, cupping the side of his mound, frankly desperate. He was just so engorged, so swollen and heavy everywhere. His four chest-tits were huge, and he swore, his belly made him look as though he was fucking eight months pregnant somehow.
Milton stepped forward, eyes dark with greed as he licked his lips. But just before he could close their distance, there was a buzzing noise, and Milton paused. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.
“Milton!” Kyle protested.
But Milton was already answering the phone. “Yeah?” he said as he continued towards the couch. Sitting down beside Kyle, he idly regarded the college dropout. “Johnson account?” Milton raised of a brow, gaze flickering off. “Hold on.” Covering the receiver, Milton asked Kyle, “How you feeling?”
“Tight,” Kyle said through gritted teeth, sweat beading on his temple.
The corner of Milton’s mouth lifted slightly, but he continued his phone conversation: “I thought we finalized the deal.” Milton looked at his nails, glancing over the subtle manicure, then away again. Even as he talked business, he reached over to idly rub Kyle’s swell. Kyle covered his mouth against a groan, his face only growing redder.
“Then get legal on the phone. That shouldn’t have been a conflict.” Milton leaned down to nose at Kyle’s mass, kissing it. He traced his tongue along the hot flesh.
Kyle choked out a gasp. “C-can’t hold it,” he stammered. Milton started rubbing again, making Kyle fidget and whine. The businessman was just torturing him at this point.
“Yes Smith, everything’s fine,” Milton muttered. “That’s just my….cat. Yeah. Did you pull up the contract?” His cruel massage was only getting rougher and firmer. The conflict of pain and pleasure left Kyle seeing stars. “There should be a clause just for this sort of situation.”
Kyle felt delirious. “G-gonna make a mess,” he grunted, struggling against the building heat and pressure. His body arched.
“Wait.”
Kyle opened his eyes to see that Milton was talking to him this time, his pointer finger raised, phone still to his ear. “Just wait. Don’t you dare waste a drop.” He said it so coldly, Kyle felt like one of his employees. “Just let me finish this call.” Then Milton got up and walked off, just like that.
No way. Just no fucking way. Un-fucking-believable. Just the – the audacity! Kyle’s indignation only compounded things, making his body feel hotter, making him feel ready to explode. They had a deal. An — arrangement. How could he just —
Kyle braced his hand on the back of the couch and forced himself up to his feet. “Nrrgghhhh! Ohhhhhh…” He’d never been this tight before. He hunched, cupping his swell as his eyes stung with unshed tears, upper breasts practically bouncing with his gasping breaths. Oh god, this was awkward. This just felt so off. He shuffled to the wall, gripping it with one hand, as his other hand continued to carefully cradle the underside of his belly. He couldn’t believe how packed he was.
Somehow he made his way to Milton’s office, practically staggering by then. Every step made him feel like his belly-nipple would burst right off. “Seriously!?” He forced out once he got through the open doorway.
Milton was behind his desk, feet up, still immersed in his phone conversation.
Kyle leaned back on the wall, groaning as he waited.
He was wearing just a T-shirt and some boxers that were pushed low by the swell. Most of his abdomen was protruding out, belly-nipple nearly exposed by the drifting hem of the strained shirt. Another shift, then the nipple was visible, protruding freely, as though Kyle was swelling by the moment, the shirt feeling like it was shrinking.
Milton had stopped letting Kyle get new clothes a couple weeks ago, the exception being club attire. Kyle was forced to walk around the house bulging and protruding out of everything in his closet, his tops reduced to belly-shirts, and all his pants shoved low on his hips. Milton just liked watching him outgrow things.
“I’m just —” Kyle gasped. “—gonna pump.”
Milton threw him a severe look and Kyle knew it was a command: Don’t.
Kyle was huffing and puffing, his dick straining his shorts. He whimpered at a sudden ache of tightness. The pressure was incredible. He couldn’t believe he was holding all this milk in.
But he had been groomed into this state. Waiting for Milton every day was almost like training his body. Every day Kyle got better at keeping the milk contained. That, and…it was thicker lately. That probably contributed to…to his endurance, lately. Kyle moaned quietly.
“Just email me the paperwork,” Milton was saying. “And let me know what Feldman stays.” And then blessedly, miraculously, Milton put down the phone. He lowered his feet, interlocking his fingers on his desk as he finallygave Kyle his attention.
Kyle drew in a ragged breath, so relieved he thought he could cry.
“We might as well wait till after dinner,” Milton said.
What?
WHAT!?
“I think I’d like you for dessert.”
“No,” Kyle blurted. “No. Milton. Fuck, j-just suck me,” his voice cracked.
But Milton was enjoying this. It was just a game to him. He pleasured in the sight of Kyle panting, straining, and ready to pop. He got up and went to the door.
When Kyle didn’t take the cue to follow, Milton grabbed hold of his arm. Kyle groaned as he was dragged along to the dining room, his free hand cradling his over-packed belly as he stumbled. He yelped as he was unceremoniously pushed into a chair. “Fuck!” he cried, red and sweaty. “Oh fuck.” He cupped his abdomen, eyes tearing as he struggled to catch his breath.
Standing behind the chair, Milton started to push it in so Kyle was closer to the table. When Kyle’s belly shoved into the table edge, an animalistic squeal burst up his throat.
“Oh, sorry kid.” Milton pulled the chair back a little.
Kyle fumbled, gasping, unable to speak. He tried to scramble away but Milton held his shoulders firmly.
“Easy there,” said Milton.
Tingles of sensation bloomed on his body. Kyle’s eyelids sank as he felt his shirt dampen. He hummed at the tiny bit of relief this afforded, as his four chest-breasts leaking gently.
Yet his belly-breast was still stubbornly containing its burden even though Kyle wasn’t consciously trying to hold it in anymore.
Milton chuckled at the display. “I hope you’re hungry.” He motioned at something at the kitchen door. In response, several members of the house staff marched into the room, each of them balancing a large platter of food.
