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Shark, Part 16 - Male Version
🕑 Added 2024-01-18 19:49:34 +0000 UTC$5/Bronze Directory
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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.
-
Logan was stunned when Tim was taken, not to the airport medical office, but to an interrogation room, now in the custody of airport security. Logan watched Tim’s ordeal from outside, through the two-way mirror that broadcasted what was going on.
“What the hell are you smuggling?” one of the officers demanded harshly, his palm slamming against the table top.
Tim was slumped in his seat, his feet scuffing against the floor tiles. He was drenched in sweat, breathing heavily, his clammy hands feebly massaging his mammoth abdomen. It sat heavily in his lap, heaving up and down like a sleeping beast. It was just so huge, Logan didn’t even know how he toted it around, even with assistance.
The mass squashed his lap, overflowing it. It outspanned his thighs and was probably six inches wider than his torso on each side. It looked incredibly packed and tight and was undeniably bigger than Tim himself. He was host to this massive hoard squeezing inside his body, and he was starting to look like a mere attachment.
The officers hadn’t even given Tim new clothes. Instead, he sat there weakly tugging at his stretched shirt, which couldn’t hope to cover his inflated abdomen. It only seemed to pull as far as Tim’s navel and slid up every time he let it go.
It was tight at Tim’s chest, his cleavage peeking out between the straining buttons. It looked like his breasts had swelled some as well, but that growth was nowhere near as substantial as what his belly had undergone.
“Mmghhh…the b-babies,” Tim moaned as his body gave a forceful shudder, his cheeks reddening. He looked ready to give birth. How could he not? Logan had never seen anyone pushed so far, so packed with strain. He didn’t even know how this was possible, and couldn’t tear his gaze away.
Some part of Logan felt guilty. Standing there spectating, enjoying the thrill of Tim’s body being stretched to capacity, while Tim was clearly struggling, just trying to endure the strain of his extreme fertility.
Tim’s belly jumped outward, practically seeming to bounce with activity, or more growth. He gave a strangled cry, arching in his seat, fidgeting helplessly, whining as he scrabbled at his swollen midsection. “Oh god, oh god…” he gasped out, huffing and puffing like he was doing lamaze. “Ngghhh…please…” he pleaded. To whom, Logan did not know. It seemed like he was talking to his own unborn children, begging them to calm down.
Tim looked like a boulder was crushing him, his flesh lurching and shivering as he squirmed helplessly, rubbing what he could reach.
The two officers in the interrogation room stared. “What the hell did you do to yourself?” one asked in morbid fascination.
Tim hardly seemed to register the question. His hair was disheveled as he stared off, looking drained and dizzy. He tensed slightly as he moaned, his cleavage rising like dough in the neckline of his button-down, the top pinching into his plump breasts while the diamonds of visible flesh grew wider between the buttons. Logan suddenly noticed the white material dampening at Tim chest, making the fabric more revealing and transparent. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. Tim was lactating.
His nipples bulged visibly, looking thick and long, resembling thimbles, and only seeming to grow more erect as milk seeped. Tim’s lips were parted, eyes unfocused. He seemed delirious. He had packed himself so shamelessly to this extreme, bred himself like an animal until there was a fucking litter inside him. His belly heaved up and down, looking ready to burst right open. His eyes fluttered. He feebly pawed at his mass. He seemed somewhere between awake and unconscious.
Logan was salivating. He wanted to touch and feel. He wanted Tim desperately, in fact, he’d never wanted anything more. He’d even be willing to fucking keep him.
Logan startled when someone grabbed his shoulder. Suddenly wrenched out of his reverie, Logan looked up at the airport security officer who had also been surveying the interrogation.
“You’re free to leave,” the officer said, giving Logan a stern look. His nametag read Moore.
“No, I—” Logan stammered. He inhaled, trying to gather his composure. “I have to stay. I’m his friend. Well I — I’m supposed to be looking after him.”
“Legally, you have no grounds to be here. This is now a homeland security matter, and you have no clearance to be watching a witness questioning. If you don’t leave on your own now, I’m going to have to remove you, myself,” Moore warned, patting the cuffs on his belt.
Logan’s heart sank. “Shit, can I just —”
There was a chiming noise. Logan slowly looked down at his pocket. He pulled out his cell phone, staring at the name of the caller. “I…have to take this,” he said awkwardly, putting the phone to his ear. He turned away as the officer’s jaw ticked in irritation.
“Mr. Graham–” Moore growled.
“Hello?” Logan whispered hurriedly into his phone. “Mr. Oharo?”
“Hello, Mr. Graham,” responded Mr. Oharo’s cool voice.
“Mr. Oharo, I’m so sorry, we were at the airport, and Tim — well he’s in custody, and—”
“Everything has been handled,” Oharo cut him off.
Logan blinked. “What?”
But as he looked back through the two-way glass, Logan noticed that Tim’s interrogation had been interrupted. A middle-aged man had entered the room, his hat and the epaulettes on his shoulders distinguishing his rank. He was flanked by two younger officers.
“Federal air marshal service,” said the man, showing his badge. “This interrogation is over.”
The two officers who had been interrogating Tim looked baffled. “Hold on—” one started.
He was left ignored. “Mr. Sao, I offer you my deepest apologies,” the marshal said, nodding respectfully to the young man slumped in his seat. “Please allow me to personally to escort you to the runway. We have a private jet ready and waiting to take you back to Asia.”
Logan’s jaw was hanging. He stared at his phone, then brought it back to his ear. “Sir…how did you—?”
“Thank you, Mr. Graham. Everything is handled. We will be in touch,” Oharo said brusquely.
The line went dead. Logan was left dumbfounded. So, he joined Moore in gazing through the two-way glass as the marshal and his flanking officers struggled to heave the dazed Tim to his feet.
After a moment, Logan gulped, deciding to try his luck. “Can I say goodbye to him?”
“Get the hell out of here,” Moore snapped.
“But I…” Logan started as Moore roughly grabbed hold of his upper arm.
Logan’s free hand pressed against the glass, sliding away with a squeak as he was dragged away. They took an elevator up into the main airport, where Logan was shoved back into the masses of travelers.
And so ended the Tim saga.
-
A few weeks later, Chris was balancing a register, his lips counting soundlessly as his fingers rapidly tapped buttons. He was barely aware of the male customer standing there staring at his deep line of cleavage bulging heavily from the V-neck of the polo shirt he was wearing.
“Er,” the customer finally said, one hand scratching the back of his neck. “I — I’d like to order a—”
Chris’s eyes snapped up. “Ryan, can you handle this?”
Ryan finished refilling a compartment on the expresso machine. “Sure thing,” he said as he made his way over to the second register, which was a little farther down the counter. “I can help you over here, sir. What can I get you?”
The customer blinked several times then shuffled towards Ryan.
Chris finished up at the register, slamming the drawer shut. “Hey, don’t bring that here!” he barked, stopping Logan in his tracks. “That needs to go in the supply room. We’re practically drowning in stirrers over here. And grab some vanilla chai mix while you’re at it, we’re running low.”
Logan scowled, but obediently changed course to the back area. After he dumped the large box of coffee stirrers into the supply room, he returned to the public area of the café, where Chris was now confronting Colton.
“Did you call Miller about the door hinge repair? I’ve been asking you since yesterday.”
“He said he’d stop by on the weekend,” Colton responded, clearly irritated. He didn’t look up from the papers on the clipboard he was scrutinizing, the bottom of it pressed against the top of his belly.
“This weekend? Seriously?”
Chris was becoming insufferable. Logan exchanged a look with Colton. Logan feared they had created a monster.
Logan and Colton were the ones who had proposed moving Chris into a managerial role. Mr. Oharo had agreed, and there had been conference calls, Oharo and Chris building rapport. Then everything had gone downhill.
Chris was in Oharo’s pocket. Despite the long distance, they seemed to be in constant contact now. Chris even wore an earpiece at all times, muttering things as he looked around. The whole situation made Logan paranoid.
Suddenly Logan couldn’t wait to resume his regular duties at the corporate office.
“Well call him again,” Chris said. Colton had finally lifted his gaze from his clipboard, glaring at the other man. “You know how this place gets on Saturdays, we can’t just have…” Chris trailed off, his cheeks flushing and his eyelids fluttering. He looked down at himself. “Oh, damn.”
Logan followed his gaze to the plump, round E-cups that sat high on Chris’s chest, looking ridiculous on his otherwise narrow body. His cleavage was sleek with sweat, nipples big and bulging visibly against his shirt material. And his shirt had dampened, subtly. Logan could see the two pools of moisture steadily getting darker and more defined as the pools spread wider.
“Oh shit, it’s happening,” Chris rambled, both excited and nervous as his eyes darted from one person to the next. “It’s finally — wait, what do I do? I should…right, I got this,” Chris seemed to recall that he was the one in charge now. “I’ll just — the pumping stations. So uh — we’ll continue this conversation later,” Chris told Colton awkwardly, before nodding to himself, and turning to the door behind the bar. He marched through it, into the back area, pumping his fist into the air. “I’m about to christen this place!” Chris declared as the door swung shut behind him.
Pumping station, Logan thought. That must have been one of the new rooms set up that he had yet to explore. There was a whole construction crew on site Mondays through Thursdays overnight, rapidly implementing the various renovations Oharo had ordered. They were even working to incorporate the building’s unused basement into the setup.
When Chris was out of sight, Ryan and a few of the other employees sagged a bit, seemingly in relief. Some customers looked disappointed.
Logan and Colton exchanged glares this time, then continued with their work.
-
Early that afternoon, they had a conference call scheduled with Mr. Oharo. They did one several times a week, just Colton, Chris, and Logan.
“Sorry guys, I didn’t realize it would take this long,” Chris said with a weary grin. They were cluttered in the room now designated the pumping station, Logan trying not to stare at Chris, slumped in a chair with his shirt drawn up over his chest. A large suction cup was attached to each of his breasts. As the pump hummed, the suction cups pinched into his fat breast flesh, methodically pulling and extracting Chris’s milk, the man in question not showing a modicum of embarrassment.
Logan’s face was hot, his gaze averted. It was all he could do not to stare at the perfect pair of tits Chris had grown, mounds quavering slightly with every pulse of the machine. Chris’s legs fidgeted now and then in his jeans. His build was slim but soft; not quite chubby.
In his periphery, Logan could see Chris wiping some of the sweat accumulating on his forehead.
“Let’s just get this over with,” Colton said through his teeth, forcefully pressing buttons on the landline sitting on a small table between the three of them. He put it on speaker as it started to beep, different from the ringing noise they would expect for local calls.
“Fuck, this is intense,” Chris grunted, kicking out as his face twitched. His hands lifted, cradling the sides of his fat tits.
The line picked up.
“Hello?” said Oharo’s voice, Logan severely grateful for the distraction.
“Hello Mr. Oharo, it’s Colton here with Logan and Chris,” Colton said professionally.
“Good evening, sir,” Logan said, proud of himself for remembering the time difference this round.
“Greetings,” Chris grunted, wincing.
“Hello to you all,” Mr. Oharo said, his voice sounding pleased. “There is much to discuss. Where shall we start?”
