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Obsessed, Part 4
🕑 Added 2023-10-30 18:54:46 +0000 UTC$2/Base Directory
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Summary: Though he knows it is odd, Theodore desperately wants breasts. Through diet, drug treatments, massages, and more, he develops C-cups, and he thinks the size is perfect. They're not too extravagant, and he doesn't mind the stares he gets. He couldn't be happier. But someone in Theodore's life is really turned on by Theodore's breasts, and isn't satisfied, he wants them bigger. He proceeds to secretly drug Theodore, and Theodore has no idea why his breasts are suddenly starting to grow again. Contains: Male: breast expansion, weight gain, lactation, eventual pregnancy.
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In only a few days, the order arrived. John received a small box containing four bottles of the drug. The bottles were glass, each about three ounces, with droppers. Each bottle was labeled Lacphora in big black lettering.
Add one droplet to water bowl daily to gradually increase milk output in adult cows, the instructions advised. Administer no more than three droplets in a twenty-four hour period.
John brought one of the bottles to campus with him. It felt as though it was burning a hole in his briefcase.
To ensure the animals’ comfort, start at the lowest possible dose, the instructions went on. Highly potent. Use with care.
Theodore Torres ran a three hour lecture on Tuesday mornings. John found himself treading to the faculty lounge. When John opened the refrigerator, he was unsurprised to see the familiar thermos labeled T.T. in black permanent marker.
When using this medication to increase fertility, start with only one droplet per week.
No other faculty members were around, most of them holding classes at this hour. John lifted the thermos, feeling insane as he placed it on the counter and unscrewed the cover. It was large, probably close to 30 ounces, and filled with a grainy white fluid: a protein shake. Torres’ breakfast, no doubt.
Stop treatment once pregnancy or the desired milk output is achieved. Do not use for more than thirty days at a time.
John pulled out the drug and unscrewed the dropper from the top. He knew this was wrong. There was no question that it was illegal. But John still found himself drawing some of the clear drug into the chamber of the dropper.
Torres had already been taking cow-drugs on his own, willingly. It seemed that he had been tolerating them well enough. Granted, the two drugs weren’t the same . The pills that Torres had been taking were meant to boost mammary development in cattle. This Lacphora, in contrast, was supposed to help increase milk production in livestock. The two drugs did entirely different things, and John wasn’t even sure this new one would work on Torres. Was Torres’s body even equipped to produce milk? Did his new mammaries have that capability?
John wasn’t sure. It seemed dubious at best. Yet that didn’t contain John’s excitement of the what if. If Torres made milk, he would get bigger, right? Bigger and fatter as his fat tits filled up. They would get round and bloated, trying to contain it all.
It was a long shot, yes. But Torres had thrown out the pills and John couldn’t find them online so the Lacphora seemed like the next best option.
This was wishful thinking. Some depraved fantasy. Even so, John released a single droplet of the drug into Torres’ protein shake. He covered the thermos, and shook it, mixing it all together as he wondered what impact the single little droplet could really have, anyway? Diluted by more than thirty ounces of milk and protein powder, a percentage of it likely to stick against the edges of the bottle, to never make its way past Torres’ lips and down his throat.
John almost wanted to add a second droplet, but he refrained from doing so. He had to consider the fact that this drug was meant for fucking cows, not slim young whiz-kids who got in over their heads with professorships. Torres was only a fraction of the weight of the average adult dairy cow. If anything, John probably should have been splitting the droplet, not that he knew how.
Exercise care when using. Not safe for human consumption. May increase thirst and appetite. Ensure that livestock under treatment have access to plenty of fluids…
John covered the Lacphora bottle and shoved it away in his blazer pocket. He then returned Torres’ thermos to the fridge.
He proceeded to make himself a cup of coffee, not mustering enough guilt or regret to leave the crime scene. Yet he wondered if his recent misdeed had scratched his itch. Maybe this would be the end of his little obsession and misbehavior towards the intriguing new English professor.
Yet he knew it wasn’t. John wasn’t reckless, but he was certainly indulgent, and a tad low on morals.
Which was why he found himself repeating the process on Wednesday, and again on Thursday, and the days that followed. On weekday mornings, it became John’s routine to go into the faculty lounge, take Theodore Torres’ protein shake out of the staff refrigerator, and drug it. A single droplet each time.
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Theodore was drinking directly from the pitcher, practically chugging the cool water. In only moments, the pitcher was drained, Theodore gasping as he lowered it. He wiped his arm across his mouth, still feeling flushed and a little dazed.
His mouth was really dry lately. And he always seemed to be thirsty. He drank water, juice, and soda, but seemed to crave milk the most. Theodore had also noticed that his appetite had surged, but it was nothing compared to how much he was drinking.
He wasn’t sure what was going on with him. At least he was getting well-hydrated. Theodore couldn’t say he had ever been particularly good at consuming enough fluids.
He sighed as he lowered the pitcher to the counter. He looked down at himself. It was the middle of the night, and he was wearing just boxers and a stretched tank top that didn’t pull down far enough to cover his whole abdomen. Scratching his side, Theodore walked back to his bedroom, his breasts jiggling gently with his stride.
He turned on the light and walked to his full length mirror, surveying himself yet again. The way his tank top was straining at the chest, feeling uncomfortably tight, his cleavage spilling generously over the neckline.
He was growing again. There is no denying it, and Theodore wasn’t sure why. He gazed at how swollen his nipples looked today, as they bulged hard in his tank top which was rendered semi-transparent at the chest by how tautly it was stretched. He had shot up a cup-size at least in just the past week. He had thought that his growth was over with, but clearly his hormones were all messed up or something. Theodore rubbed the side of his head as he continued to absently stare at his reflection. He felt oddly neutral. Not awful, but not great either. Just intrigued, and…well…
Wasn’t this what he had wanted? He had been fucking skinny. A stick figure. It had been nearly impossible for him to gain any weight at all. Theodore had been miserable, anguished, plagued with self-hatred. Somehow, having breasts would make his life complete. Theodore hadn’t cared about the cost. He went through all his savings. He had desperately wanted natural breasts even though the prospects had been bleak. But Theodore had pushed on. He had tried for ages to make it a reality.
There had been drugs, supplements, creams, herbs, even hypnotherapy, and other unconventional treatments. He had tried things that were dangerous, things that weren’t even meant for human consumption. He had gone through the embarrassment of consulting with clinicians.
Failure after rejection, Theodore kept trying. Deep down he had known that it would never happen. That his goals were impossible, and he was a fool for trying.
And now — this. Something that actually worked, so suddenly and arbitrarily, it was practically insane. At times, Theodore still suspected he was dreaming. His wildest fantasies had come to fruition, and now, after all his efforts, he had the gall to worry that they were getting too big?
Theodore turned to his side, frowning and scrutinizing. They really were perfect. So round and perky. Better than a lot of women’s. And they were big. Really big. Plump and fat; flawless at every angle.
Was it too much of a good thing? It seemed a ridiculous question. Theodore ought to just be grateful to have them at all. Still, the rest of his body seemed so sharp and narrow. It didn’t match. Theodore thought he could do to gain a few pounds, maybe get a little softer.
But it didn’t feel right to complain about his breasts. Sure, they were a cup or two (or three) larger than he had intended them to be, but some people would kill to be in his shoes. There were so many men and women out there, desperate to grow natural breasts, the way Theodore had. It was time that Theodore was just grateful for what he had.
His breathing hitched in his lungs as he experienced another of those warm, tingling sensations that steadily rolled over his chest. It was new. Theodore’s eyelids fluttered shut, his face twisting a little, and he couldn’t help cupping his breasts with shaking hands. Breathing and rubbing, gently exploring. It was getting so hard to fight his urge to touch them, especially when they were so big and hot, and tingling so evocatively.
God, they looked good. They felt good. Moments like these drove him mad with desire; this self-love that felt almost illicit. It felt like he had done something dirty and wrong, but it was almost painful not to indulge it.
What was the big deal? EE’s, or maybe F’s by now? Theodore wasn’t the most well-versed on cup-sizes.
The goal was C-cups. Aren’t things getting out of hand? reasoned a voice in the back of his mind.
Yet this logic couldn’t stand up to the pleasure. Not when Theodore was immersed in it, his hands pressing and squeezing. A groan escaped his lips.
Out of hand? They were just tits.
He was so conflicted. So corrupted. His breathing grew thinner.
“Just a little bigger. What’s a little bigger? No big deal,” Mike would say.
Theodore moaned.
“They look so good.”
Theodore got on his bed, massaging and arching, feeling his nipples get bigger and harder, pushing almost painfully outward as his flesh tingled more. His tank top felt close to tearing.
His dick was hard, his chest heaving. He knew he should stop.
But he didn’t.
-
Theodore couldn’t seem to stop touching them – they were only getting bigger.
The compression vest was painfully tight now, Theodore red and breathless as he tried to run his classes. He came up with gimmicks. He would take a student volunteer to go over the reading or take notes on the board. Meanwhile, Theodore would just try to breathe between long gulps of water. He felt parched and overheated.
The layers didn’t help. The shirt, the blazer, and the sweater. He was covered in clothes. Trying to soften his fat tits that only seemed to want to burst free in rebuttal.
The room lapsed into silence. Theodore became aware of the fact that all the students were looking at him, the latest volunteer having returned to her seat.
“Ah, t-thank you Tiffany,” Theodore managed, as his chest ached and his face went redder, then he heard a tearing noise. He froze, his clothes shifting.
The students blinked at him. “Are you okay, sir?” piped a blonde girl.
Another tear. His clothes shifted more, and Theodore realized that his compression vest was giving out, succumbing to his girth, tearing right down the middle. “I have to s-step out,” he said. He hurried out the door, leaving a classroom full of baffled students in his wake.
Theodore was disoriented as he stumbled down the hall, clutching his chest as he felt more and more of his tit-flesh pushing out. He was dizzy. He needed water.
Against his better judgment, Theodore made a risky turn into the faculty lounge to retrieve his thermos. His solitary focus was the refrigerator, everything else seeming blurred around him. He grabbed his drink, clumsily opened it, and chugged it down in seconds. Only after he had finished and put the thermos down did Theodore notice the other faculty member in the room. He froze.
“Is everything okay, Torres?” said John Cohen with an odd look. He was seated at one of the tables with a cup of coffee.
“Y-yeah,” Theodore stammered. He was completely oblivious to how much of his breast-mass had become visible, as he awkwardly hugged his chest. “I just, um…”
Theodore didn’t finish that thought. He hurried off, shoving out of the room and blindly making his way to his office down the hallway. Once he was securely inside, he gave a sigh of relief and went to his desk. He sank into his chair and tried to organize his thoughts through the panic and embarrassment.
He looked down at himself, just as he heard a popping noise to indicate that his button-down was now failing. Without the compression vest, none of his other clothes fit anymore. He gazed at the round jugs now blatantly stretching out his sweater. They heaved up and down with his heavy breathing. God, they were huge. Theodore couldn’t help cupping them, a shiver running through his body.
The door started to open. He must have forgotten to lock it. Theodore quickly dropped his hands and tried to figure out a way to cover himself up. But it was already too late, because now the door was wide open and John Cohen was walking in.
For a moment, both men were completely silent. Theodore was beet-red and mortified. There was no explaining this away. He swallowed thickly.
“You look unwell,” John said as he closed the door behind him and stepped closer. Somehow he was not reacting to the revelation of Theodore’s huge tits, but maybe that wouldn’t be too professional. Still, his level of composure was startling. “Are you alright?”
Theodore tried and failed to speak. Instead, he twisted his face into some approximation of a smile. He could use a glass of water. And some privacy. His body felt so on edge, felt like it might start tingling again.
Theodore flinched when John put a hand on his shoulder. Theodore’s tits quavered, nipples aching as his sweater dragged torturously against them.
“Why don’t I drive you home?” John offered.
Theodore grunted, his breasts seeming to tighten. But it was probably all in his head.
He gazed up at John, who looked so firm in his suggestion. John’s air of authority was comforting in a way. John usually knew what was best. And conveniently, Theodore did want to go home.
“A-alright,” Theodore rasped.
John’s hold on his shoulder tightened.
Comments
Feng Ruiying
Love this. I’m a professor. It hits hard. Desperate for more.
