Intern, Part 5

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Summary: Jim hooks up with one of the male interns. Not that the intern remembers. Both were pretty drunk that night. And whenever Jim has sex with someone, he always gets them pregnant, often with multiples—rare though male pregnancy may be. Jim knows that he should probably come clean, but he’d much rather watch his young intern rapidly “bloom” while struggling with his increasing job duties and figuring out what is  going on with his body. Contains: Male: pregnancy, belly expansion, breast expansion, butt expansion, and possibly more.

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When Ryan arrived to the club, he looked shocked and uncomfortable, his arms instantly folding against his too-tight button-down shirt and blazer that wasn’t hiding much these days.

God, he was growing so fast. Though he had originally walked out of the show to meet Ryan at the door, Jim found himself ducking into a bathroom, trying to gather his composure. When he failed even at that, he hastily beat one off in a stall, before slumping back, breathing deeply, and waiting for the fluster to pass.

Finally, Jim cleaned himself up and walked out. “Smith!” he barked.

Ryan jumped slightly. He had been nervously looking around. He appeared relieved at seeing Jim, but then uneasy again. Ryan made his way over, his face flushed, and it was clear why. People seemed to think the intern was part of the club’s entertainment, idle hands reaching out to pat Ryan’s belly at any opportunity. Ryan was practically hugging the bump by then, looking funnily protective, even if that wasn’t his intent.

“Hey sweet thing,” said a middle-aged man, giving Ryan’s rump a pat. Ryan gasped and spun, which allowed the man to give him a proper once-over. “Coming along there.” Now he patted Ryan’s belly, and walked on to accost the other expecting young men in the venue.

Jim’s jaw clenched.

“Sir, we’re looking to get seated. Can we have a table for two?” Two women had come up to Ryan, excited expressions on their faces.

Ryan stuttered. “I—I’m not—”

“He doesn’t work here,” Jim cut in, grabbing Ryan’s arm and pulling him closer, if just to protect him from the increasing amounts of attention.

One of the women laughed. “Really? Then are you applying for a job?” Her eyes shot down to Ryan’s midsection. “You certainly meet the qualifications.”

Ryan’s face darkened crimson.

Jim pulled Ryan into a relatively quiet corner. “Thanks for bringing my laptop,” he said, getting to business, trying to distract himself from how good Ryan looked all mortified and overwhelmed.

“Sir, what on earth are you doing here?” Ryan blurted out.

Jim had no shame. Of course, that was part of his problem. “Excuse me?” he said sternly.

Ryan seemed to remember who he was talking to. “I-I mean—” he stammered.

“If you hadn’t noticed, I’m on my time off, Smith. My activities outside of the office are none of your business. Now let’s just get this work finished so we can get back to our respective weekends.”

“Yes sir.”

“I’m going to need you to hang around to handle the final contract revisions. Then you’ll have to print it out and have it rushed to Miller.”

“Yes, sir,” Ryan repeated, but now his eyes were darting around again. He was practically squirming to get out of there.

A disembodied hand creeped out from behind Ryan’s waist, to curl around and cup Ryan’s bump. “Shy guy act, huh?” said a masculine voice with a heavy southern accent. “So hot. You’re just budding now. God, you look good. Bursting out of your little suit.”

Ryan shoved the hand off him and quickly jerked away from the bearded man who had creeped up behind him. Ryan glared until the man chuckled and sauntered off. Ryan's arms went back to folding themselves over his torso, his eyes shooting to the floor.

Jim swallowed hard. He summoned a server, someone he knew. “I’m looking for a quiet spot. Just need to type something up.” Jim nodded to the laptop bag now hanging off his shoulder.

The server shrugged. “Break room, I guess. Main show just started so not many people in there.”

Jim nodded, and before really thinking about it, reached out and grabbed Ryan’s arm again. He pulled Ryan along, not looking back, even as Ryan’s feet seemed to drag. There were only two dancers present in the breakroom, both chatting as they munched away on plates of food.

Jim got himself a seat by the wall, but Ryan’s eyes were pinned to the buffet. As usual, it was a massive display of food, all of it steaming. Occasionally a server would come in or out, bringing new platters, taking others away. The aroma was overpowering, the type of smell you could taste in the back of your throat. It even made Jim a little hungry, though he knew it was meant for the preggos and their demanding babies-to-be.

Jim opened his laptop and set it on his thighs. He pulled up the old contract and speed-read through it, though he couldn’t focus properly, too conscious of the things going on in his periphery.

Ryan was a little sweaty. The place was warm after all, and Ryan had yet to shed his blazer. He remained awkwardly suspended there. He threw a glance at a chair.

“Doll, you look famished,” called out one of the dancers eating with his friend. “Come join us,” he said to Ryan.

“No, it’s fine,” said Ryan weakly, though he couldn’t seem to help throwing a glance at a large pan of baked macaroni.

“I insist,” said the dancer. Off-shift, the guy was in a little tank top, cleavage bulging over the V-neck, and round belly poking out from the bottom. He looked somewhere deep in his second trimester, his friend a bit further along than he was.

“No,” said Ryan stiffly. He unconsciously smoothed his hand over his blazer, belly protruding through the flaps, straining his shirt, the perfect little curve. He could have been four or five months along with the amount he was showing already.

“I’m not taking no for an answer,” the dancer said irritably. “Get your ass over here. Baby gets what baby wants,” he added, pointing at Ryan’s gut.

Jim couldn’t help it, he looked fully up.

Thankfully Ryan’s back was turned. He appeared rigid and unhappy, but he reluctantly shuffled over to the two dancers seated at a table.

“Have you eaten?” said the same dancer. Jim thought he recognized him from a show a few weeks back. His stage name was Reese, or something along those lines.

Ryan didn’t respond.

“Are you hungry? Wait, don’t answer that. We always are. Men have even bigger appetites than the ladies, believe it or not. Lower fat reserves, and all that.”

Ryan rubbed his red face. He hesitated, and threw a glance Jim’s way. Jim immediately ducked his head back over his laptop.

“I’m trying to…keep in shape,” Ryan forced out, his voice barely a whisper, but Jim managed to hear it. “Keep things discreet.” Ryan sounded pained. “I’m trying to not, um, indulge too much.”

“How dare you,” scolded Reese, even as he chewed on a mouthful of fried chicken. “That baby’s gonna grow whether you like it or not. You trying to starve yourself isn’t going to change anything.”

Ryan was breathing thinly.

“Eat,” Reese demanded. Ryan just stared at him, then Reese shoved a large bowl of of lasagna in his face. “Here, have some.”

Ryan stared at the food, looking anguished. He seemed to be fighting some internal battle, before he finally dropped his head. “Yeah, okay,” he said, sinking into a chair.

The dancer who had been silently watching the whole exchange burst into giggles.

Ryan was given the bowl and a fork, and he actually started munching. He paused and closed his eyes, really savoring—quite enjoying it. “Fuck, this is good,” he mumbled, now taking a much larger forkful and stuffing it into his mouth.

And like that, he ate. It was continuous and cyclical, like someone who hadn’t eaten all day and was indulgently digging in. It was like any other silent meal, only this one didn’t seem to end. The food never ended. Jim was reminded of the dancers, and how they indulged when they were on break, trying to fill their bellies to maximum capacity. Of course, Ryan was less intentional about his gluttony. He simply ate his way through plates as they were shoved towards him, and he seemed to be enjoying every moment of it.

“Mmmmhh,” he moaned, finally taking pause after what had to be a full half hour of continuous eating. “This is all so good.” His hands unconsciously slid down to cup his mound.

“Only the best for Dirkman’s dancers,” said Reese cheekily.

“What does he put in it? I mean, never had anything this…hmm?” he trailed off as a glass was shoved into his hands.

“This is great,” said Reese, nodding to the huge glass of milk he was handing over to Ryan. “Organic. Extra creamy. Try it.”

“Oh, I can’t,” Ryan tried to protest, tried to shove it away, but suddenly Reese was pushing the beverage to his lips. And Ryan couldn’t help himself. He indulged. He drank rapidly, gulping it down as fast as he could. When he finished, he sighed and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “God, I was craving it,” he admitted.

“Of course you were,” said Reese matter-of-factly. “Judging by those tah-tahs you have there, you’re gonna have a huge pair of jugs in no time.”

Ryan’s blush returned, even deeper now. He set the glass down and looked at himself. His shirt was truly straining at his belly, buttons fighting to pull apart. “I’m stuffed,” he groaned. “Think I overdid it.” He looked mortified, eyes pinned to his stomach.

“Aw, you look so sweet,” said Reese, cupping the bump as Ryan’s eyes widened. Reese’s free hand lifted a heaping spoon of cheesecake and brought it to Ryan’s mouth. And for some reason, Ryan accepted it, taking it in, allowing himself to be fed.

It seemed they couldn’t resist each other. Ryan was helpless to the delicious food, especially when his baby-packed belly was influencing his appetite and cravings. Reese, in turn, could not help stuffing Ryan, the shy guy, who was trying to hide what was happening. Reese just wanted to blow him up, and Jim was getting aroused. He struggled to get a hold of himself as he watched chunk after chunk of cheesecake deposited into Ryan’s mouth.

After working his way through four large slices, Ryan finally stopped and released another long groan. His belly was heaving, blazer hanging open, and diamonds of skin growing between the buttons of his shirt. Ryan grunted just before a button broke off. Then he just panted, tears filling his eyes, but those of pleasure rather than pain. They rolled down his cheeks, and Ryan arched the best he could where he was seated. His belly seemed to distend more, swelling, shifting, as he gasped and fidgeted in the confining material, failing though it was.

Another button snapped and Ryan finally seemed to become aware of himself. He looked down, and Jim felt himself similarly gawking.

“Oh fuck,” Ryan hissed, looking around. Jim became conscious of chattering voices and realized that several other dancers had entered the room, fresh from the show. Some gorgeously breathless or pink, a sheen of sweat on their glowing faces and bulging bellies.

“It’s okay doll,” Reese said to Ryan, running his finger along the curve where it had pushed through Ryan’s shirt, snapping three more buttons in the process. It was an adorable unblemished little orb, belly button bulging cutely. “You look perfect. How far are you anyway?”

“Three months,” Ryan whispered.

Reese’s face fell, but then he grinned again, like he thought Ryan was joking. At seeing Ryan’s anxious expression, Reese’s face went blank. “Seriously? Three months?”

Jim was just glad he had his laptop covering his groin.

Ryan had caught the attention of a few other dancers. They came over, giving him a once-over. One released a low whistle. “One of yours, Jim?” he asked.

Jim tensed as several eyes shifted to where he had been discreetly sitting in the corner. “What? No. Of course not,” he said quickly. “He’s an employee.”

Ryan gazed uneasily from Jim to the dancers, before getting up and hurrying out of the room.

Jim felt himself standing, settling his laptop on the chair. He forgot about the erection straining his trousers—most of the dancers had seen as much of him anyway. He didn’t know why, but Jim left after Ryan, walking along the corridor until he reached the nearest bathroom. Jim walked inside and was relieved to see Ryan standing there, leaning heavily on the sink as he frowned in the mirror.

Ryan threw Jim a glance then released a terrified little laugh. “What the fuck is happening to me?” He seemed to forget Jim was his boss in that moment of hysteria.

And Jim forgot himself as well. He closed in on the younger, smaller man. “You look great,” he said candidly.

Ryan blinked up at him, looking so miserable, so needy. Before Jim knew it, he was pulling Ryan closer and pressing their lips together in a reckless kiss.

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