Blackmailed IV

Note: This is a story-prompt for Wyld.

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Lately, the weight gain seemed to be concentrated in James’s chest.

It was humiliating. The hills were growing, getting fatter every day. Soon he had a real part of tits—like a woman’s. And there was little he could do to hide them, which made it difficult to continue modeling. He showed off designer shirts and tunics, the mounds protruding out oddly against the material, sometimes stretching it out. He had tried binding them at one point; flattening them down so they were less obvious, but it had proven too painful to stand. The whole situation was just infuriating.

A huge chunk of James’s original fan base had unsubscribed, but in their place, was a decidedly odder crowd.

People who were actually into this.

Oh man, they’re growing.

lok how big they getting.

bruh wat are you taking?

Thy looks so round.

surgery?

No way, thats natural!

James blushed every time he glimpsed the commentary. Sick fucks, he thought, doing his best to ignore it.

Yet his viewership continued to grow, each new member highly interested either in his tits or his generalized weight gain. James’s breasts had to be C-cups by then. Maybe bigger. It was all just insane.

“Thanks for watching. Be sure to check back next week, I’ll be modeling a piece by Tim Grace himself. Until then...nnnghhh…” James half-smiled half winced as the stream came to an end.

He grimaced at the discomfort of his body squished into the silky button-down shirt that was way too small for him. It was from one of the remaining designers willing to work with him. Lately, James wasn’t fitting in anyone’s clothes.

There had been some new offers. People who ran plus-sized brands. There was one persistent guy, Oliver Spiel, who was desperately looking for models for his FemBoi line.

James shuddered as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, groaning as his breasts pushed out, freed of confinement. Yet again it struck him that he had fucking breasts. It was pure insanity. James sat there arching, breathing, enjoying the cool air on his hot skin. Then he looked down at himself, and how full and round the mounds were, not sagging in the least. How the hell were they growing so fast? He pulled on a wifebeater, groaning in the sensation of the cotton pulling against his sore, swollen nipples.

“God.” James grabbed the milk gallon. He seemed to keep one beside his desk all the time now. He started to chug it, his desire for the fluid insatiable these days. It helped him take his mind off the discomfort, at least briefly. He got halfway through the gallon before he paused to catch his breath. James wiped a stray trickle off his chin.

His chest was heaving, nipples aching even worse now. “Fuck this…” he grumbled, hand impatiently sliding up, rubbing his tender breast, but this just made him groan at the combined pleasure and discomfort, his flesh tingling now. The hell was going on with him? He moaned as he fingered his nipple through his shirt, eyes closing.

And then something happened. A slight burning, followed by a pleasing warmth, and…moisture. Opening his eyes, James looked down at himself, and was stunned to see that patches of moisture had formed on his shirt, above each breast.

He was…leaking.

“Oh god,” he breathed, ripping off the tank top to stare at the persistent white droplets. He was lactating!

It was only then that James noticed comments populating the screen.

Holy ship!

ohmy god

look at those titties

this guy is freaking lactating

omg

freakshow

OMG

So so hot

More!

Squeeze em!

squirt, squirt

His camera was still on! “Fuck! Shit, fuck!” James nearly knocked over his laptop as he fumbled to turn it off.

Then he sat there in stunned silence, round breasts heaving, nipples still consistently dripping.

“What the fuck,” he whispered.

-

His subscriber count skyrocketed, his income leaping.

James hadn’t posted a video in a week, and was stunned as the numbers continued to climb. People were actually into this. And he…he was freaking out.

Ever since the first leaking incident, his breast growth was surging, swelling fat with – with milk.

It was bizarre. They were round, and full, aching and growing. It was driving him crazy. Yet it turned him on—the sensation of being so full and tight, milk spilling. It scared him. He was a man with big, leaking tits.

His inbox was packed with messages, mostly fans, begging him to show them more. Begging to see them.

Just that weekend, James pulled in more money than he made in a month of modeling.

James knew he couldn’t hide out forever. The income was just too enticing. Maybe he just had to milk this for all it was worth.

Oh god, bad choice of words.

“Hi,” James said awkwardly into the camera a week after his accidental peepshow. He tried to look content and not terrified while wearing a thin, tight, semi-transparent white shirt, so that his pink nipples were bulging out visibly, the round E-cups on his chest on display. He was absolutely blowing up, tits packed with milk, and it was overwhelming.

But he tried his best to relax. “It never actually tried…tried milking them before. They’re really uncomfortable,” he groaned, as encouraging comments raced down the chat box. James was panting slightly, his face sweaty. “Do you think we should…give it a try?”

Then he slowly…very slowly slid up his shirt, so his tits were on revealed bare for the camera. He slid his hands up, cupping his chest, before slowly pinching his nipples. Both squirted. “God…fuck…”

The chat was blowing up, his viewer count skyrocketing.

“This actually…oh… it feels good. God…” He groaned as he gave another squeeze, milk spraying, making a mess. He arched; whimpered. “Maybe I should do this daily. What do you think? Might…might help with the discomfort. How about it? Wanna tune in tomorrow for more milking?”

It was a date.