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Farm Boy, Part 16
🕑 Added 2020-11-28 02:48:40 +0000 UTCStory Directory: $2 Patrons
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Summary: A high school senior, Max noticed that his older brother has been dipping into the chemical on his parents' farm, and has been gaining a lot of weight. A bit disgusted, a bit curious, Max tries the chemical hormones himself, and experiences the best high of his life. He quickly introduces the chemical to his two best friends, and the three progressively get addicted, all while experiencing incidental changes, such as butt growth, breast development, belly expansion, in addition to other, stranger, things. Contains: Male: pregnancy, breast expansion, multiple breasts, breast-belly, butt expansion, weight gain, and more. Also, issues of drug addiction.
-
Max kept growing.
He absorbed himself in video games and continued to do a scant amount of school work. Things were getting so bad, there was a risk of expulsion. But Max could hardly bring himself to care anymore. He was in a strange, numb state of avoidance. He tried to ignore what was going on in life outside of his games.
Max was surprised by how much he grew. It seemed like too much, but he was still growing. His tits were still squirting, leaking, and swelling, and Max couldn’t help jerking off several times a day. He would think about Roger inside of him. He was getting fucking needy. Eyes watering, Max released a whimper and splattered the underside of his mound with come. He grunted and sank back, gasping to catch his breath.
Most of Max’s time was spent on his bed propped up on several pillows. His thighs would be spread, legs curled slightly, sort of cradling his belly while avoiding getting crushed beneath the heavy mass. His huge tits heaved where they were stacked on the mound, pressing into his chin at times. Max was continually breathless and flushed, and the pressure seemed to be increasing every day. So was the strain, his skin hot and prickling. He felt packed to bursting and it was getting harder to bear.
Then one morning, Max awoke, and realized he had gone from what he’d thought to be maximum capacity to a whole new extreme. He gasped and grunted, face contorting as he fidgeted for relief. He was just so tight. Too tight. It was uncomfortable, almost painful. He was almost scared to move, it was just too much.
There couldn’t just be one in there, he was way too big. How many were there, then? He had to be close, right? Max didn’t know, he couldn’t calculate it. When had he and Roger started fucking, anyway? Max stared in anguish at the huge globe attached to his body.
“Nrrgghhhh…” he grunted, as the pressure just got all the more impossible to tolerate.
His face was hot. He found himself truly straining, straining to bear it all. His ass throbbed.
“Fuhhhkk, fuck, fuckk,” Max grunted, shuddering, arching, searching for relief.
Max estimated that he looked bigger than Scott had even been, even bigger than Adam, but not swollen with milk, packed with fucking human beings. A strangled cry came up his throat. He was in stress, but not in labor. He was just straining. His body couldn’t contain them. He was just too tight.
The door burst open, and there stood Paige in her night shirt. “Fuck, Max, are you alright?”
“God, I need to give birth,” Max managed, feeling tears run down his cheeks. “I need to feed them.” His four nipples squirted.
Paige came over, tried to placate, but it was no use. His belly was throbbing forcefully, almost jerking, as he grunted, cried, and rambled. “Need to give birth, need to now, n-need to give birth Paige, I need them out my me, need my babies, need to feed them.” He was gonna pop. “Oh god,” he wheezed, shuddering, hyperventilating.
He must have blacked out at some point, because when Max found himself lifting his eyelids again, the room was dark, as though the sun was just about to set. The bedside lamp was on though, and Max was surprised to see Scott sitting there beside him.
“Ughhhh…” Max managed, regarding himself.
The blanket had been pushed down so his bare abdomen was exposed, in all its massiveness. And it was gleaming with…something. Creams. Oils? The pressure was still severe, but it wasn’t completely intolerable.
“Helps, right?” said Scott. He was no longer pregnant. He must have given birth. It was bizarre how quickly Scott seemed to have reverted to his small, mousy form, aside from a gentle curve to his belly, and a full pair of C-cup breasts bulging on his chest beneath the baggy shirt he had on. “I was wondering why I couldn’t get in touch with you…” Scott mused aloud.
Max shuddered out a sob. “S-Scott,” he managed, feeling so very pathetic and exposed. He looked down at his huge belly, eyes burning in shame. It shuddered. “I—I n-need them out of me.”
“You’ll have your babies soon,” said Scott, surprisingly gentle compared to how Max remembered him in their school days. Maybe it was just something that went along with paternity—maternity? “Soon you can feed all of them,” Scott continued. “Not yet. Just a little more time. We need you to calm down.”
Of all the people Paige could have called, it seemed she had made the right decision. Max felt the latter end of his breakdown mitigating. “God,” he huffed out. “F-felt like I couldn’t breathe for a minute.”
“It’s…a lot,” said Scott, eyes pinned to Max’s orb. It was like a bolder, a massive ball bulging out, impossibly huge on his narrow body. It was wider than Max was, practically crushing him in his position sprawled back on some pillows. His thighs had gone numb. Max tried to shift them.
The mound quavered with movement, Max’s face twitching. His nipples squirted hard, and he gasped for breath. “D-didn’t even know this could happen,” Max managed.
“It’s okay,” said Scott simply. “You’re doing fine.”
It was weird to talk like this, in the dark room, on a subject that was so very intimate. Max felt terribly vulnerable.
He felt like further explanation was warranted, but he didn’t even know where to start. He didn’t want to. If he thought about Roger, he was sure he’d just go numb again. “Always thought pregnancy was your thing,” Max mumbled.
“Now it’s our thing,” said Scott, half joking. He reached out, and hesitated, before resting his hand just below Max’s navel. Max took a sharp breath. “It’s almost over. Then you get to deal with being a parent.” Scott smiled and rolled his eyes. Max frowned at the thought.
-
Paige gave Max something, some sort of herb to calm him down. She swore it was okay for the baby—more likely babies. And Max had been so anxious, he’d actually accepted it.
Now he felt strangely mellow. It wasn’t unpleasant, just not very productive. He gazed aimlessly at the ceiling. Every so often, Paige or Scott would come in to check on him.
Max shifted and fidgeted on the bed under the constant strain of his condition. He was continually trying to adjust himself as one limb went numb or another began to ache.
His shirt only pulled down over his four tits—and not completely. His belly bulged out, huge and bizarre, practically bigger than he was. He was too flustered and overheated to bother trying to cover it up with a blanket. He was left to gaze uneasily at the nudges and kicks as they manifested on his tight skin. Frequently, he moisturized what he could of it with the salves and oils Scott had brought. But Max’s hands couldn’t even reach most of the expanse of his belly anymore. So Scott, and sometimes Paige, helped. He would close his eyes and put his head back to endure the awkwardness of the contact.
There was a knock on the door. Two light taps. “Max? Someone’s here to see you,” Paige called.
Max furrowed his eyebrows. “What?” he said, putting his hands on the mattress behind him, shifting up somewhat, too baffled to properly react. Why on earth would he want a visitor in his state? And who could it possibly even be, that would just be allowed to come in, and—
Oh.
Roger entered the room.
He looked so young and uncomplicated, in his team jacket and sneakers.
Max was young as well.
But Max was becoming a parent.
“Fuck,” Max wheezed out, face burning hot. His hands scrambled against the huge expanse of his belly, as though to cover it, but the prospect was ludicrous.
Roger looked astonished. He stood there gawking in silence, and to Max’s mortification, Max felt tears beginning to leak down his cheeks.
“Fuck,” Roger echoed, hurriedly coming over. He took Scott’s vacated seat. “Did I—? Are you—? W-why the hell didn’t you tell me?” said Roger, still marveling, then blinking hard, and marveling some more. “I got you pregnant?” Roger said, voice cracking a little. Suddenly they were both crying, and Roger was leaning over to press a kiss to Max’s lips. Max didn’t know whether it was right or wrong, but he didn’t fight it; couldn’t have if he’d wanted to.
They didn’t talk much after that, they just sort of tried to absorb each other’s presence and the bizarreness of the situation. The first time Roger laid his hands on Max’s belly, Max’s face went bright red again.
“God, they’re mine Max,” Roger said, rubbing gently. Eventually he got up and sat on the bed opposite Max, legs crossed so he could face the mound directly. “Does this help?” Roger asked, indicating the oils on the bedside table.
Max just nodded.
“Is it okay if I—?”
Max nodded again.
His eyes fluttered as Roger began to rub the salves into his skin. Max breathed heavily. He could feel his eyes watering again, to his frustration. He was just so fucking hormonal like this. And Roger’s return—it was just a lot for one day.
“Relax,” said Roger, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Max grumbled back. He whimpered, fidgeted, and released a long huff. “It’s been—a lot. A lot to take,” he said quietly.
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, okay,” said Max, feeling practically buried under his mounds in his overwhelmed state.
Roger took his time with the massage, often pausing to take in movements within Max’s flesh and under Roger’s hands. He spread the salve slow and methodically, and Max became surprisingly comfortable—more so than lately, at least. It had to have lasted at least a half hour, and Max found himself dozing off, before he heard Roger say, “The pumps?”
Max blinked groggily up at him.
Roger shot a long glance to Max’s four breasts. “Looks like you can use them.”
Max’s breast were bloated and full, probably fuller than they had ever been before, because they were tight, tender, sore, and almost too-round, nipples bulging prominently. They squirted any time Max made a move.
“Yeah, okay,” Max mumbled, thinking that pumping might be helpful, but then, it might not have much of an impact. Max found pumping also served to stimulate, and rile his body up in general. He was already perpetually horny as it was, and the thought of hitting orgasm, though pleasurable, seemed exhausting.
“You always did say you’d put a baby in me,” Max noted wearily.
Roger gave an awkward chuckle. “Yeah, I did,” he said, and he regarded Max, eyes dark. Max was familiar with that look and found himself silently baffled. Max looked like a whale. Was Roger actually turned on by Max in this state? Max swallowed.
“Did you lose the weight?” Max asked, more to distract than anything else.
Roger opened the flaps of his jacket. “Not really,” he said with a shrug. It wasn’t much, a little pudginess under his jersey.
“Ah.”
“Neither did you.”
A short, hysterical laugh escaped Max’s throat. “Clearly.”
“How are the girls?” said Roger.
Max knew Roger was referring to his tits. Max looked down at the four mounds stretching his shirt almost to tearing, the fabric now soaked to transparency by the strain.
“The least of my worries,” Max said, rubbing his face. Roger got the pumps and gingerly drew up Max’s shirt. Helped Max attach them one by one. Roger’s tongue dragged over his bottom lip and Max tried to relax even as his dick started to twitch.
“God, you look so god,” Roger muttered like he was voicing a thought, causing Max to bite his bottom lip.
Before Max could be dragged down that rabbit hole of a conversation that would likely entail questions like— “were they back together?” “what did ‘together’ even mean?” “did Roger actually want to try something physical?” “did Max?” “wasn’t this whole situation just batshit nuts?”—Max’s eyes caught something in the corner of the room. A tiny, blinking red light. He focused harder, trying to find the source, and saw smooth, sleek edges. He managed to make out a camera. There was a hidden camera, and it was directed to the bed. Max was being recorded, half-nude and completely exposed. His jaw fell.
