Bad Roommate, Part 11

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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.

Previous Chapter 

-

Kyles belly was bloated, probably from all his recent overindulgence. He couldn’t say that he was feeling remotely confident that evening, but he pulled on a clean white button-down shirt and a blazer over it. He scrutinized himself in the bathroom mirror, feeling self-conscious of every crease and curve. He smoothed out his shirt repetitively. But the attire was loose enough that his changes weren’t readily blatant. He noticed, that with the recent growth, there was a lot more movement. Jiggling and bobbing. There was also the significant discomfort of his nipples rubbing into his clothing. The nubs were just really sensitive lately. They stood pink and erect, bulging out through the thin cotton. But that’s what the blazer was for.

Kyle absently cupped the underside of his lower right breast. For the first time he thought that he could use a little support. Like an extra shirt, a tight tank top, or…or a bra…or something. Was that really what things had come to? God, he was such a mess. He had four fucking tits, and now he was thinking about bras. Fuck my life, Kyle thought as he walked out of his room then exited his apartment.

-

When he arrived to the club, he was admittedly apprehensive. He wasn’t sure how to face these people after they had found out…what he was, and all. It was still a little early so the crowd thin. Kyle parked himself at the bar and ordered a shot of whiskey despite his better judgment. He knew drinking was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place, but he desperately needed something to take the edge off. It’s gonna be fine, he silently assured him. He would go to the back room, say his hellos, and see if anyone was missing the money. It wouldn’t take more than an hour then he would slip off.

By the time Kyle came out of his reverie and looked around, the club was alive, the dance floor packed. A glance at his watch told him that it was after midnight. It was now or never. Finishing off the beer he had been nursing, he climbed off his stool and smoothed down his blazer.

The place was packed now, bodies writhing. Kyle shoved his way through the dance floor, crossing it entirely, and he had to practically feel along the wall to find the dark door that was almost secret in its subtlety. He slid it open, walked down the corridor, and emerged into the room he had visited the night before.

When Kyle walked in, no one noticed him at first. It was strangely anticlimactic because he had honestly expected an onslaught of stares and accusations. But the small group was just drinking and chattering amongst themselves. There was Milton, and Gregory, as well as a young woman in a minidress Kyle had not seen the night before. He didn’t see Conrad wasn’t there, but the businesswoman was, as well as a stocky, almost heavyset, man, who looked familiar. He might have arrived later the previous evening, after Kyle had already gotten wasted. Yes, his name might’ve been Grayson. Then again, Kyle could have been entirely off.

Kyle walked deeper inside, kind of lingering on the periphery of things. He was too nervous to talk, but knew that his lurking presence would quickly become awkward if it wasn’t already.

Milton threw him a glance. “Ah, four-eyes is here!”

Kyle didn’t wear glasses. It took him a moment to make sense of the nickname.

Gregory twisted his neck to look, a wide grin spreading over his face. “Doubles, baby, you’re back!”

Kyles face heated up. “Yeah, um, I was in the area. Just wanted to say hi,” he managed, unconsciously tugging his blazer around himself.

“Take a seat,” said Milton. “Stay a while.”

“I p-probably can’t stay long,” Kyle said, but he reluctantly joined them on the large leather couch that curved around the round table. Kyle stayed at the edge so that he could make a quick escape if necessary. Of course, as soon as he did, an entertainer squished down beside him, blocking him in.

“Becca, this is the guy I was telling you about,” Milton told the skinny young woman in the skimpy dress.

“Yeah right,” said Becca, playfully slapping Milton’s shoulder. She grinned at Kyle through her curtains of long, dark hair. “Milton’s an idiot. He was trying to tell me that you had boobs or something. Like, a bunch of them.” She burst into giggles. Clearly she’d had a couple of drinks.

Kyle pressed his lips and looked down. It took a moment before Becca noticed his clear discomfort. Then she looked back at Milton. “Stop fucking with me!” she laughed.

“Is Conrad here?” Kyle tried to change the subject. “Actually, I should probably get going.” This had been a bad idea. He could just go to the bar and report the money lost or something.

“He’s on his way,” Milton said as he threw one of his arms over the back of the couch, sort of behind Kyle. “Give it a couple minutes. He would want to say hi.”

Kyle supposed he could wait. Conrad was the only other person he could remember who had been there the night before. And if none of them inquired about the money, Kyle would feel much more comfortable keeping it. Finders keepers, and all that.

“Have a drink,” Gregory insisted in his drawling voice.

Kyle knew he shouldn’t, but the anxiety was getting to him. His heart was racing, and his lungs felt compressed. So he nodded. “I’ll take a beer,” he managed.

But not a moment later, a server arrived with a tray of tequila shots. She settled one in front of each person, Kyle included. And he didn’t refuse it. Everyone clinked glasses, then Kyle downed his. Just to take the edge off.

He began to relax, trying to nod and pay attention to the surrounding conversations, but not actively participating. People came and went throughout the night, and they were up to about a dozen people around the table. When the couch filled up, people pulled up chairs. Kyle sipped the beer he was served any time it looked like someone might expect him to speak.

He was seated beside Milton. The man looked to be in his late thirties or early forties, was clean-cut, and had this sense of authority about him. He just smirked and nodded, and offered sparing words to Rebecca as she talked enthusiastically about her dog and her roommate, and an ongoing feud with one of her colleagues at the investment firm where she worked.

Milton could appreciate her dialogue, but not relate. He didn’t seem like a 9-to-5 type of guy. He appeared more like someone in upper management, an executive type. He was content to drink and listen to Becca talk excessively in her inebriation. And when he did speak, it was kind. Words that made people comfortable, or encouraged them to stay. He asked how people were feeling. Asked if they needed a drink. It was just his personality, this constructive geniality.

“I have some Cubans in my car,” one man said. That guy, Grayson.

“Not tonight,” Milton said. “You know I’m trying to cut back.”

“Didn’t look like it yesterday,” said Grayson.

“Well it was a special occasion, Gib. We made a new friend. I was just trying to keep up.” Milton threw his arm around Kyle shoulders, him and Grayson—Gibson?—laughing.

“Damn, was I smoking?” said Kyle, unable to help smiling, himself. He appreciated that they were trying to include him even if he didn’t particularly want anyone’s attention on him.

“You weren’t smoking Cubans,” Gibson said, and the three of them laughed. “Something a little stronger.”

Then Milton’s hand wrapped around him did something odd. It’s slipped down to Kyle’s waist. Kyle instinctively stiffened.

“Can we have another round of shots,” Milton called out.

But when the skimpy server brought them over, Kyle refused. He was already quite buzzed.

He didn’t know why he didn’t pull Milton’s hand off him. It wasn’t as though it was aggressive or anything. It could be a friendly gesture, kind of.

The contact continued to progress. Kyle’s breath hitched as he felt Milton’s fingers dip under his shirt to touch his skin, his hand now cupping Kyle’s waist bare. But he didn’t stop there. It crept up, slowly. All the while, Milton carried on with his conversation with others, and Kyle sat frozen.

“I appreciate the tip,” Milton was saying to some guy, Smitty, who was sitting across the table. “But I stopped trading last year.”

“I thought you had people handle that for you,” said Smitty, a thin man who had one of those perpetually-unimpressed faces.

“Not anymore,” said Gregory with a grin. “Tell them how much you lost on that index fund.”

Milton’s hand made contact with Kyle’s lower left breast, cupping it casually. Kyle felt heat pooling in his cheeks. He sat there awkwardly silent, frozen, hardly able to breathe. He thought it must have been obvious; Milton groping him under his shirt. But the others either didn’t notice or pretended not to.

“I’d honestly prefer to forget about that,” said Milton tersely, his hand momentarily pausing where it had been idly rubbing at Kyle’s breast.

Gregory cackled while Gibson just scoffed and shook his head.

“All those fuckers are useless,” Gibson noted before taking another drag from his cigar.

“Well, sometimes traders get overconfident, don’t they?” said Smitty.

“You’reoverconfident,” said Gibson.

Milton’s fingers resumed their idle fondling as his palm cradled Kyle’s breast. He started to finger the nipple, causing Kyle’s mouth to open, a small grunt escaping his throat. Milton squeezed, and Kyle’s eyes shuttered closed as he attempted to force air into his lungs. He couldn’t believe how sensitive they were.

Milton gave another squeeze. Kyle pressed his lips, struggling to contain a groan.

“You okay there, four-eyes?” said Gregory, looking amused.

“I… um…” Kyle was mortified. He grabbed the tequila shot that had been left in front of him and downed it.

“One of those nights, huh?” said Gregory, deriving chuckles from the others. Now everyone’s attention was on Kyle.

“Uh…I — I gotta go to the bathroom,” Kyle said, practically shoving the entertainer beside him off the couch in his efforts to get out. Milton’s hand tore out of his shirt and Kyle hurried off in a daze.

When he got to the bathroom, he went straight to the sink and splashed his face with cool water. Then, as he tried to catch his breath, he unbuttoned the top of his shirt, looking down at the four breasts perched there.

The lower left one, the one Milton had been fondling, felt hot and tingly, and even looked a little bloated. The nipple was darker than the other ones, probably from all the irritation. And it just felt extraordinarily warm.

Kyle tensed as he heard the bathroom door open behind him. He quickly began to button his shirt back up and could see Milton approaching through the mirror.

“Kyle,” Milton said, grabbing his shoulder.

Kyle spun around to face him, then suddenly they were kissing. Kissing hard and desperate, hands all over each other’s bodies. Milton’s fingers were back on Kyle’s chest, quickly undoing the remaining buttons until Kyle’s shirt fell open. Milton then pushed the top and the blazer aside, now groping unreservedly, cupping and squeezing, rubbing into the sensitive pink nubs there.

Kyle moaned and arched. “Christ,” he breathed.

Milton shoved him into the wall then leaned down, licking and kissing Kyle’s breasts to finally take a nipple right into his mouth.

As he sucked, Kyle swore and gripped his hair, hardly able to hold it together. He couldn’t believe how fucking good it felt. One breast at a time, Milton licked, nuzzled, teased, and sucked.

“Knew you’d come back, four-eyes,” Milton said against his flesh. “I’m usually not into guys. I’m not a chubby-chaser either. But I love your tits. Love how freaky it is.”

“Unnghhh…” Kyle was confused at being called “chubby,” as he had a slim build. But then he remembered how bloated his stomach was getting recently. He wasn’t nearly fat, but he supposed, to a man with high standards, like Milton, maybe he was.

Soon all four breasts felt very warm and strangely heavy. His nipples were aching delightfully.

As Kyle buttoned his shirt back up, he could see how prominently his nipples stood out, really bulging against the fabric. He pulled his blazer around himself, but the curves of his four breasts were still quite evident somehow. As odd as the hot, tingling sensation was, Kyle couldn’t deny that it felt really, really good. He was dizzy from the onslaught of sensation, but also entirely blissful. He couldn’t believe what they just done.

Milton pulled out his wallet, counted several bills, then offered Kyle the whole wad.

Kyle blinked down at it. “What?” he said blankly.

“Just a gift,” said Milton with an easy smile. When Kyle didn’t take the money, Milton tucked it into Kyle’s blazer pocket, his eyes now idly running over Kyle’s body.

Kyle stammered, “I — I’m not like a hooker something —”

“Don’t overreact, kid. You showed up at this place wearing sneakers.” He nodded down towards Kyle’s admittedly old shoes. “Figured you could use it.”

“I, er, well I’m a college student,” Kyle said stupidly.

“Good,” said Milton. “Get yourself a new pair shoes.” He turned, and before he walked off, he called back to Kyle, “See you next weekend?” He looked so assured of it.

Then he walked off.