Midlife, Part 7

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Summary: Tom is in his mid-forties. Comfortably married in suburbia  with his wife, office job, and his 2.5 kids getting ready for college, Jim finds himself immersed in an affair with a fit young biogeneticist. Jim  has no idea why he's gaining so much weight, and his wife has started making remarks about it. Little does he know, his secret boyfriend is not only experimenting on him but breeding him. Worse, Jim can apparently get pregnant additional times while already pregnant, and end up carrying multiple babies of different gestational ages. Its only a matter of time before his secret affair comes to light. That, in addition to other things. Contains: Male: pregnancy, breast expansion, belly expansion, butt expansion, stuffing, weight gain.

Previous Chapter 

-

Tom was huge. Just massively huge. He didn’t know how much more his body could take.

His belly was visibly pulsating, so terribly stuffed as he sat there panting and sobbing. His abdomen trembled and a whimper escaped his throat.

Ian glanced up from the TV. “You OK?” His hand continued to idly massage Tom’s plump mound.

“Nghhhh…” Tom grunted. The pressure was just so intense. His nipples started to seep thick milk into his tank top.

“Look at you. You’re making a mess,” said Ian in amusement.

Tom’s breasts had grown to E-cups. They were fat and fully engorged. His nipples were unusually long, sticking out at least an inch, like little teats.

Tom’s belly was just massive. He was seated on the couch with his thighs spread wide, his belly still squashed heavily on his lap. At the same time, his abdomen shelved his breasts, heaving them higher. It was easily wider than he was; larger than a beach ball. His belly button was a big bulging protrusion, resembling a golf ball. His shirt didn’t pull down over his mound, only covering his breasts and a few inches of his expansive abdominal swell. Ian wasn’t even sure how Tom could get up anymore. Of course he got a lot of help standing, but Ian was still impressed that Tom’s legs could support him. “Oh god, oh god,” Tom panted, clutching what he could of his expansive a mass. “I c-can’t.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Ian said.

Tom had just eaten. Feasted, really. Ian had gotten him to eat a whole damn turkey, greased up and packed with buttery stuffing. It had been a truly impressive sight. And now Tom, well, he was digesting.

“That was a twenty-five pound bird,” Ian couldn’t help musing allowed. “But you were a hungry boy. Your babies were hungry.”

“God,” Tom gasped out, chest heaving, tits jiggling unrestrained under his soaked tank top.

Ian couldn’t help bowing to them, tugging down Tom’s top to plant his lips on one of the swollen nipples. He took a suck from Tom’s breast, causing the older man to moan. Ian has been working on them diligently, sucking and growing them. Bigger than Penny’s. Bigger than most womens’. A constant reminder to Penny that Tom wasn’t even close to being her husband anymore. Ian sucked the left breast dry then moved on to the next one.

Then, of all things, Tom’s stomach grumbled. “Hoooo, haaahh…” Tom puffed, rubbing his flanks. He was so impossibly huge. Ian pulled off of his nipple to survey him. He honestly wasn’t sure how much more Tom could take.

“Why am I so b-big?” Tom managed to ask, before he was back to puffing and wheezing.

“Tom, you just ate a whole turkey. Do you really need to ask that?”

“Erggghhh…” Tom arched his back, pushing his belly out while squirming his legs. Ian wasn’t sure what he was trying to achieve. His flesh shivered, and bulged in places.

“More…space…” Tom choked. He was pouring sweat. “Need….ngghhhh…” He arched harder. He almost looked like he was growing. Ian stared on, rapt. Tom was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Tom’s stomach grumbled again.

“Looks like you’re ready for dessert.”

Tom fervidly shook his head in protest but Ian was already getting up.

Ian returned shortly with the cake. It was a multi-layered triple-chocolate monstrosity he had ordered from a bakery in the city, claiming he’d needed something for a large corporate event. Ian has been undecided between this one and the cheesecake, but by the daunted look on Tom’s face, Ian believed he had made the right choice. He had to drag the entirety of his small kitchen table over to Tom’s arm of the couch, because there was no way the platter could have balanced on the end table, or even the coffee table. Then Ian leaned back to survey the scene. “How are we going to do this?”

Tom was desperately rubbing his flushed, sweaty swell. It heaved up and down, Tom desperately trying to catch his breath.

Again, it rumbled.

“Let’s multitask,” suggested Ian. “Get on your hands and knees. Here, face the edge of the table.” Ian helped him a bit.

Tom was slow but he wasn’t resistant. Maybe he was operating on autopilot. Maybe he was just that hungry, the need for food taking over his body. Tom whined out, and Ian realized that all fours was not a possible position. His belly outspanned his arms, pressing into the couch cushions. Tom could only lower himself as far as his knees, puffing and wheezing. His hands kept working, unconsciously, rubbing into his over-packed flesh.

Ian got behind him; rubbed Tom’s flanks. “God you are beautiful,” he murmured into Tom’s nape.

Tom started to eat. He didn’t even need instruction or urging, nor did he need eating utensils, apparently. He just dug his hand in, lifting a large chunk of gooey, greasy, icing-saturated chocolate cake, and stuffed it into his mouth before moaning quietly. “Fuhhhk,” he hissed after gulping down the first handful.

Tom’s backside was plump and round. It looked surgically enhanced in its perfection and largeness. Of course, it remained overshadowed by the massive swell of his abdomen, but it was still quite noteworthy. “Fuck, I want you right now,” said Ian.

“God.” Tom’s voice was muffled by his latest handful of cake. His whole belly lurched, bouncing slightly. “Nghhhh…please.”

The combined pregnancy and drug treatments had devolved Tom to his most base instincts. Food and sex. Sex and food.

“Look at you,” said Ian as he aligned their bodies. “You’re a fucking cow.” He couldn’t help himself.

“Dick,” Tom retorted, and Ian wasn’t sure if it was an insult or a plea.

Ian could hardly hold himself together when they fucked. It was too much. Tom was too full, too tight and supple. He stuffed his face with cake even through his grunts and moans, sometimes choking.

“Mmmff, goddd,” Tom cried, arching, and Ian lost himself with embarrassing haste. Tom was sobbing and sweating, red-faced and grunting out. Chocolate was smeared on his face, hands, and belly. Eyes squeezed shut, he twisted and cursed, before he arched even harder, to a degree that it was painful to watch. His nipples squirted as he whined and clutched at his swell before it shuddered, jerked, and visibly pushed out.

Tom’s breasts grew higher and pumper, his belly advancing as his throat released inhuman squeaks and his hands scrabbled as though trying to contain it all. Ian somehow thought that Tom was about to explode, the man basically inflating.

But then it stopped. Tom slumped forward, jaw slack as he panted like a dog, covered in sweat and chocolate, belly red and throbbing like a creature. His eyelids sunk. He passed out.

-

Tom was still sweaty and flushed, and still evidently uncomfortable. His lips were pressed tightly together in his efforts to contain the frequent groans and grunts trying to come up his throat.

He stiffly tolerated as Ian helped him get dressed, though Ian was doubtful that Tom could have managed on his own. Tom sat on the couch, squashed beneath his massive mound, sometimes shifting his legs or twisting his face. Then sort of just marveling down at his own body with an air of trepidation. He would throw Ian uneasy looks. He was finally growing distrustful.

Even Ian could tell that things were getting out of hand on the occasions that he wasn’t completely drunk on dopamine and desire. He loved Tom this way; so perfect and so full of Ian.

At some point during this experiment, Ian’s rationality had become secondary to his own personal desires. Ian wasn’t sure if he could re-order things. It was a steep aspiration.

Tom’s clothes would not fit him. He was bulging out everywhere. Bare flesh was pushing out under his jacket, inches of it, maybe more. The chest couldn’t zip up properly, bloated breast flesh pushing out over the straining zipper.

Tom just looked so small and feeble, his body not equipped for this extreme state of fertility.

When Ian helped him up, it took the both of them a great amount of strain, Tom’s belly shuddering as he roared and struggled, Ian grunting out himself with the effort of pulling.

When they finally had him on his feet, both were panting, Tom gripping Ian’s arm.

It took a while for Tom to loosen his grip. After a moment, one of his hands clutched low at the side of his belly. He looked even more massive while he was standing, his face twitching as he endured the strain of supporting the thing. “This isn’t normal,” Tom concluded breathlessly.

“Tom—” Ian started.

“This isn’t normal,” Tom cut him off. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you’re going to fix this. You’re going to get this thing out of me.” With that, Tom waddled off at a turtle’s pace, and Ian bit his lip in thought.

-

Penny was not pleased, amused, or impressed.

“What the hell is going on?” she snapped upon his arrival home. “You look like an elephant! You—you’re inflating! How is it even—?” She shook her head in baffled fury.

His kids stood on the sideline looking distraught and disturbed. He was breaking his family apart all over again. He had pushed things beyond their willingness to tolerate.

“When are you having these babies?” Penny demanded.

The pluralization of “baby” unsettled him but Tom found it best not to correct her. She had never seen Penny this angry before.

“M’not sure,” Tom weakly tried to pacify. His back was killing him and he felt exhausted. “This has never been done before so it’s, I guess it’s—unconventional or…” He had no idea what he was talking about and she knew it. “Can we not do this in front of the kids?” Tom entreated. One of his hands was tightly gripping the counter while the other rubbed circles on his churning mound.

He was just so heavy, so full of pressure.

“You’re a freak!” Kim shrieked in disgust. “Look at you, you’re a total freak!”

Penny spun, her tears now visible to their children. “Go to your rooms!”

“He should go.” Kim sneered at Tom. “We don’t need you. We don’t even want you!” With that, she stormed off, Tom’s chest heaving, and insides twisting even worse.

Sid just stared at Tom for a long while. Eventually he walked off as well, sparing Tom any insult.

Penny had completely dissolved into sobs. She wiped her tears on her arm. “You’re doing this on purpose,” she managed in a choked whisper.

“Pen, why would I ever do something like this to my own body?” Tom tried to reason with her. Now he was crying as well. “Christ. You know I’m miserable. And I have no fucking clue, ohh…mmmm…” His eyes shuttered closed as the tension spiked hard. “Why does this keep happening? And why now? God,” he moaned, “I—I’m gonna burst. I’m gonna fucking blow,” he cried, then gasped, under too much strain to maintain an arch, even as the pressure surged right behind his navel, his belly pushing outward, shuddering forward. So he hunched, gripping the counter, struggling not to collapse beneath his own weight. His belly hit his thighs, continuing to steadily inch forward, the mound popping entirely out from the bottom of his jacket.

“Tom, what’s happening!?”

“They’re…growingggg!” Tom roared, veins bulging on his forehead. His breasts bobbed and seeped as they swelled, cleavage bulging hard against the neckline of his shirt, his jacket zipper sagging down as the mounds popped free and started squirting milk on the kitchen floor. Penny shrieked.

Then there was a splash of fluid. Not from his breasts, but from Tom’s backside.

“Oh my god!” Penelope cried.

It was finally time. He was in labor.

-

Tom had almost thought it was never going to happen.

“I’m at the basement entrance of the hospital. It’s accessible through the parking garage on B2. I have an office and medical room. It’s fully equipped. Everything is going to be okay, Tom.” Inexplicably, Ian’s voice was reassuring.

“Don’t want—don’t want anyone else there!” Tom grunted out from where he was sprawled across the backseat of his family van, his belly barely managing to cram into the available space.

“It’ll just be me,” Ian assured.

The van came to a halt. The door slid open.

“It’s okay, dad. We’re here,” Sid said as he and Penny appeared. It was a family effort to get time up. And in the private entrance to the hospital basement, stood Ian, waiting for them.