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Bad Roommate, Part 20
🕑 Added 2024-04-29 16:39:58 +0000 UTC$7/Bronze Directory
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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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“Fuck, Milton,” Kyle whined when they got back to the bedroom. “It’s so fucking uncomfortable. You need to suck them and make them grow.” Kyle eased himself back on the bed, whimpering from the soreness of his newest breasts coming in against all the weight pressing down on the tender skin.
There was so much hot, sweaty flesh squishing together on his body. Kyle spread himself out across the bed so he could clutch his four chest-breasts the best he could, revealing the newest mounds budding beneath. They were hardly anything. Anthills, topped off by small, delicate nipples.
Milton inhaled deeply as he closed in. Kyle arched to give him access. Milton pressed his knee against the mattress as he looked down, appraising Kyle.
“Please,” Kyle rasped, feeling truly pathetic. But he was desperate. He was so absurdly uncomfortable, this needed to be handled.
Milton leaned down, so close that his warm breath pulsed on Kyle’s flesh. Kyle twisted his fingers through Milton’s hair, pulling him closer, until Milton’s lips were flush against his skin. The older man licked and kissed the tender little heaps. He taunted the tiny nipples as Kyle struggled to breathe and his body trembled. Kyle’s five other breasts seemed to tighten, his dick going hard. The stimulation left him wired, breathless, and trembling, but this needed to be done. He needed to grow.
-
Over the next few days, things proceeded slowly.
When Milton wasn’t around to suck and stimulate Kyle’s newest pair of breasts, Kyle tried to stimulate them manually. Because stimulation led to growth, and Kyle needed them to grow. The new breasts were only C-cups at that point, and even with two pairs of bras supporting the four breasts above them, the newest ones still ended up smothered and squished regardless of Kyle’s position. The discomfort was unbearable, and Kyle found himself spending a lot of his time sprawled across his bed, arching his back, clutching his chest, and trying to remove what weight he could from his lowest pair of chest-breasts, the tender little mounds growing at a brutally slow pace.
But there was progress, at least. Kyle’s hands would rub and squeeze, tweaking the nipples, as he groaned and his abdomen shuddered. There was seldom a moment that he wasn’t red and sweaty, truly exhausted between the constant milk production, stimulation, and his efforts to attend to his body, with seven breasts that needed attention at every given moment of the day.
One might say that it was entirely unreasonable for Milton to suggest they go to the club that weekend, but Kyle knew that it was one of Milton’s favorite things, and that his bringing Kyle there in such a state would be the utmost thrill for the older man, in all his depravity.
And what thrilled Milton thrilled Kyle as well. So even in his sorry, swollen state, limbs jittery, body sweaty, and frame absurdly heavy, Kyle got dressed, slow and meticulously.
At least it would be a change of scenery.
-
Everyone stared.
Of course, Kyle was used to it. He sort of liked it. Milton certainly did. He watched Kyle as he waddled arduously, clutching what he could of his massive belly-breast as it strained the stretchy button-down shirt he had on. He would stop and hold onto the wall, breathing heavily, his upper four breasts wobbling as they heaved on his chest. The newest pair was squished beneath them, but Kyle tried to endure the discomfort, if only for the evening.
When Kyle was seated, his belly breast overfilled his lap, pressing against the edge of the table. He swore, it must have resembled a beach ball by then. Kyle was hardly cognizant of what was going on around him. He couldn’t keep up with any conversations he was offered, feeling nearly delirious; overwhelmed by sensations. He would just breathe and stare off, his head spinning, mumbling indecipherably only when he had to, hoping that qualified as a response to any inquiry.
He tried to stay mostly seated, even as his thighs grew compressed and numb beneath his milk-filled belly. He only really got up to go to the bathroom and attend to the intensifying, gurgling tightness inside of him. His body felt like an oven he couldn’t turn off. But he was getting used to it. He could handle it.
Kyle grunted as he struggled to get up for his latest bathroom break, gripping the table for dear life, whimpering as his belly-nipple rubbed into the edge. He felt a spasm inside him that left him groaning, his belly tightening a notch, as his nipple distended even more, looking huge and prominent, sticking out blatantly as multiple eyes stared at the absurd protrusion in morbid fascination.
Kyle struggled to catch his breath, still gripping the table for support. God, he was so full. Always so hot and tight, and pumping seemed practically useless these days. Nevertheless, he had to, because he was afraid of the consequences of not doing it. He gave a grimace of a smile to the indistinct faces around the table, and he started wobbling away, his back arched as he clutched his flanks, trying to balance the weight overtaking his torso.
Once he locked himself in the bathroom, it was a mild struggle just to reach the sink. His belly pressed against it, creating a barrier. But Kyle made do, whining as he leaned in, dousing his hands in cool water which he subsequently pressed to his flushed face. His belly trembled. He moaned, rubbing circles on it with the heels of his hands. “Nnghhh…” One of his hands swiftly moved to clutch his back, where a stitch of discomfort had bloomed. He wondered how much he weighed now, with all this milk filling his body. He was almost scared to find out.
For a moment he stood there just breathing as his legs grew weary. His hands fumbled to unbutton his shirt, a relieved sigh coming up his throat as cool air washed over him. Through the mirror, he gazed at his massive belly-breast, contained in a pregnancy girdle that was straining to accommodate it. He had two pairs of bras supporting his upper four breasts, the cups already beginning to pinch into the volleyball-sized globes. The growing C-cups beneath them were still entirely hidden by the overhang squishing them down.
While the new breasts were steadily coming in, they weren’t growing fast enough for Kyle’s liking. They were still smaller than all the others, getting squished and compressed by the mounds around it. He just wanted to get bigger so that they could push out; get some air. It was a strange thought – wanting the anomaly to be larger and more visible. He shouldn’t have wanted them there at all. But as it was, they were present, and they are inevitably going to grow.
There was a knock on the door. Kyle tore his gaze away from his reflection in the mirror.
“It’s me,” a low voice called.
His hands clutching his belly, Kyle waddled over to the door, unlocking it then pulling it open. Milton smirked and slipped inside, the bathroom suddenly feeling quite small with the two of them squeezed in there with all of Kyle’s girth.
“I’m quitting the pills,” Kyle managed, his hand cupping his side as it gurgled.
Milton raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
Kyle released a huff. “Fucking look at me Milton. I’m done!” Kyle felt a surge of frustration and could not help directing it toward his partner. His enabler.
“Okay, okay,” Milton said diplomatically. “It’s no big deal. Chill out.”
Kyle glared warily as Milton went silent, as though in thought. The older man’s eyes trailed slowly along Kyle’s body.
“One more for the road?” Milton said.
Kyle’s belly shuddered slightly, as though in response. He whimpered, clutching it. “Fuck off,” he managed.
“C’mon, just to memorialize it,” Milton coaxed. “This is all so abrupt. If I knew the last pill was the last time, I would have really savored it.”
Milton held Kyle captivated with his eyes. Kyle didn’t know how he did it, but he couldn’t look away. He felt wonderfully helpless.
“I’ve got them right here.” Milton reached into his jacket and pulled out the familiar bottle of capsules. He twisted off the cap. The starchy whiff of the supplement left Kyle’s belly tensing and jerking as Kyle grunted out.
“What do you say?” Milton said with a slow grin.
Milton was so sexy, so commanding and in control. The combined adrenaline and arousal was dizzying. Kyle was helpless as his abdomen lurched with the milk throbbing inside of it.
“One last time,” Kyle said hoarsely. With a shaking hand, he received the pills from Milton.
Kyle poured out several. A handful. Even to Milton’s surprise, Kyle choked them all down. “Go hard or go home, right?” Kyle panted as he dropped his arm, the now emptied pill-bottle clattering to the floor.
Milton couldn’t stop smiling.
Kyle rolled his eyes. “M-maybe it’ll help the new ones develop some more,” he stammered, feeling jittery. And warm. He started to waddle for the door.
“Hey,” Milton said as he caught Kyle’s arm to stop him.
Kyle was breathing deeply. He threw an uneasy look up at the other man.
“Wait a little,” Milton urged, wrapping one of his arms around Kyle so that his hand was cupping Kyle’s lower back, and Kyle’s swollen belly-breast was squashed snugly between them in that little space. Kyle felt like a cow, but Milton was loving it, all of Kyle’s plump, fatty flesh pressed against him.
Kyle’s eyes went wide. He hurriedly fumbled with his shirt, grunting as his belly-nipple started to spray forcefully. Milton didn’t even seem to mind the mess. Kyle moaned as he slumped forward, leaning on Milton for support, as the spray eased to a continuous flow of milk running down his front. Simultaneously, the nipples on his upper four breasts all started to squirt.
“You good?” Milton said.
“Ughhhh…”
Milton chuckled.
“S-suck me,” Kyle entreated.
“Why would I do that?” Milton said, his smirk growing wider.
Bastard!
Milton just laughed at him, still holding Kyle close.
Kyle muttered several obscenities under his breath. “I need a drink,” he concluded, wrenching himself away. He groaned as his abdomen pulsed with heat and tension.
“You sure that’s a good idea?” Milton taunted.
Probably not. Nevertheless, Kyle made his way out the door, breathing heavily, feeling dizzy and unstable as he did his best to arch his back and support his huge belly-breast as well as he could. God, it was so fucking tight. Visibly pulsating, getting tighter and more pressurized. He could hardly breathe. He fumbled his way through the crowded dance floor in the darkness.
People looked amused at the sight of him, as though he were some gimmick, some morbid mascot. Bodies pressed all around him.
Kyle felt a hand on his back. Milton had followed him, standing behind him, offering support in a way, as his hands slid further, holding Kyle. Kyle allowed himself to lean back against Milton’s chest.
Now Milton’s hands were reaching around him, pressing and squeezing, fingers taunting and teasing the belly-nipple. It tensed horribly.
“Please!” Kyle choked as Milton rubbed the swollen protrusion, Kyle’s body growing redder by the moment as he tried to hold the mounting pressure. He grunted as he tore away from Milton, clutching the orb. “Errgghh…” Fuck, he needed to pump, he needed it now, he had to get back to the bathroom!
His skin was burning hot. He needed space. His belly-breast tremored. He groaned, trying his best not to make a mess on the people around him. A forceful shudder ran through his body, his core feeling like it was being rapidly overfilled.
“Easy,” Milton said in his ear. The older man was behind Kyle again, rubbing and coaxing. Fully sabotaging.
Kyle’s swell jerked harshly. He arched and howled, his voice drowned out by the blaring music filling the room.
The mass surged forward, pushing out in all directions, blowing up, shoving and expanding, Kyle barely able to stand, leaning heavier on Milton, fidgeting and fumbling, grunting and gripping as his body exploded outward into something massive, something obscenely huge, something that should not have been attached to a fit young man.
People were shoved, clashing and crumbling together in their unbalanced, inebriated states. Kyle could hardly get his footing as he gazed down at himself, his body sweat-drenched and violated. Tear-trails marked his face as he struggled to breathe. “Jesus—fuck!” he choked out, half wondering if he was dreaming. His vision blurred around the edges.
“You look amazing,” Milton’s gruff voice said in his ear, holding him, rubbing the orb.
Then he helped lug Kyle off the dance floor and away from the staring faces surrounding them.
