Intern, Part 4

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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.

Previous Chapter

-

Ryan was clearly showing. Jim could tell that Veronica suspected something. How ironic it was that a complete outsider would figure it out before Ryan did himself.

They were at a charity banquet being held by the company. Most of the employees had made appearances to serve as sycophants to their department heads while simultaneously pretending they gave two shits about illiterate orphans, or whatever the cause was this go-around.

Most of the interns had showed up, Ryan amongst them. Jim knew how badly Ryan wanted the job. Ryan even made an effort to separate himself from the others, who reeked of overwork and desperation. He wore an expensive suit—a bit snug at the waist—and smoothly navigated his way through conversations. He didn’t drink—he wanted to stay sharp. He was witty, suave, and instantly likable to the donors. He had his girl on his arm, and they had some sort of team up going on.

“This is Penny, my fiancé,” Ryan introduced her for the umpteenth time. “She works in finance.”

“Your company’s stock is a hot commodity these days sir,” Penny said, to be rewarded with flattered chuckles.

As comfortable as the duo looked, Ryan was getting so awkwardly plump these days. And god, he looked so good. It was almost a proper bump now, and he kept touching it, absently, as though self-conscious of it, like he wanted to push it back in. His bright eyes betrayed a little of his nervous energy. Penny even made a quip about the weight gain at one point.

“I think he’s enjoying those gourmet lunches a little too much,” she said, elbowing Ryan’s waist and earning more chuckles. Ryan’s smile grew forced.

Jim had to take of sip of champagne to keep from smirking. He forced himself to turn away and got into small talk with one of his junior executives.

Yet Jim’s mind continued to wander.

Ryan’s chest was getting softer. There was some roundness to it now, a padding, that lifted his large nipples, which were now pushing harder into his shirts. It had to be awkward for Ryan to look at it; irritating too. Ryan had to be seriously wondering what was wrong with him. He had to be considering things, at least.

Jim snuck a glance in Ryan’s direction to see the intern digging into his second plate of hors d’oeuvre. Yet he never missed a beat in the ongoing conversation. He was always so slick, so smooth. Would he keep that up when he was full to bursting?

Ryan kept at it all night—chatting, eating, chuckling, eating. Little did he know, he was feeding babies. The babies Jim had put in him.

-

Ryan popped early.

Jim could tell the instant he saw him that day.

Jim had been walking through the parking garage one morning, on his way to the elevator up to the executive offices, when he saw Ryan climbing out of the passenger seat of a car. Penny was getting out of the driver’s seat. She had given Ryan a ride to work. Jim felt himself approaching them, intending to offer a greeting.

Ryan’s belly had popped. He just looked—pregnant. He appeared flustered and uneasy. He had yet to process it, but it was obvious. Ryan must have suspected something, an inkling. He must have been dealing with the possibility.

Jim couldn’t control himself. He was suddenly face to face with Ryan, and laying his hand against the rounded bump. Ryan looked absolutely mortified. Penny’s eyes widened in realization as her face contorted in fury.

She got back into the car. Slammed the door.

“Penny—wait!” said Ryan.

But she was speeding off, leaving track marks against the pavement. Ryan stared speechlessly after her, face pale, chest heaving.

Jim felt more uncomfortable than remorseful. “Sorry, Smith,” he said. “Er…congratulations.”

“No,” said Ryan forcefully, giving Jim a startled look. “No, I’m not—” His breathing thinned. “I…I have to go.” He looked helplessly around, then simply began to walk off towards the exit back onto the street.

-

Ryan took three days off, which was completely atypical of an intern. It was practically career suicide. Yet Jim put in a good word. Reminded his colleagues how great Ryan was at bringing in fresh clients. He heavily intimated that Ryan was dealing with some sort of family emergency (emerging family?). And easily, Ryan’s absence was forgotten, even after he started showing up again.

Ryan knew. That was clear. He was actively trying to hide it. He took to wearing loose, almost baggy, shirts and blazers. It wasn’t exactly professional, but Jim refrained from acknowledging it. He would let someone else complain.

Maternity-wear for men wasn’t exactly a lucrative industry. Maternity business-attire was an even narrower niche. Ryan’s best bet would be to find something online, though business-wear had that inherent tendency to be sharp and well-tailored, which just seemed to clash with the notion of a discreet pregnancy.

Jim couldn’t wait.

Ryan was miserable. Jim could see it in the way all Ryan’s smiles became forced, and how his eyes were chronically panicked or empty.

Male pregnancy was an incredibly rare condition. There was no way to abort; it was too dangerous. The sufferer would just have to deal with the indignity of pushing huge babies out of his ass. And that was if the doctors managed to induce labor, which was a whole additional, complicated matter.

Ryan pulled off his blazer one day after running several errands, his shirt sweat-damp and revealing more than the intern had intended.

Jim reflected on Ryan’s nipples. Ryan had nursing nipples. Big and dark. It was early, but he already had man teats, his body keen, already hyper-aware of the growing offspring. Ryan’s nipples were always erect and distended, awkwardly poking out on his tiny little tits. Jim imagined sucking them. He wondered if he could make them leak, make them grow, suck and stimulate them till Ryan had a proper set of tits on his chest to go with the growing belly.

Ryan’s ass looked snug in his pants. It was gently plump, and god, just grabbable. The intern was just full and fertile. Ryan couldn’t have been past the first trimester and he was already showing so much.

Ryan arrived with lunch orders one afternoon. It was one of the more undignified tasks, but he still was just an intern. He seemed desperate to get out of the limelight, hungry executives grinning and gravitating towards him for their food. Ryan seemed to always be fidgety these days. If he was this uncomfortable now, Jim wasn’t sure how he was going to make it through the next couple of months.

“Smith, glad I caught you,” said Paul, one of Jim’s colleagues. He wore clear distaste as he glanced Ryan over. “Looking kind of sloppy lately.”

Ryan’s face brightened in a beautiful flush. Jim said nothing as he indifferently picked out the chicken caesar wrap from the packaged food piled in Ryan’s arms.

“You know the dress code, Smith,” Paul blithely continued. “You’re representing the company in your presentation, and we can’t have you meeting with clients looking so…baggy.”

“Yes sir,” said Ryan, the containers teetering, threatening to fall. “I’m really sorry. Won’t happen again.”

“I hope not,” said Paul. “You had some really sharp suits at the start. Then you took those days off, and now this. Some might think you’re getting too comfortable.”

“No sir,” said Ryan with clear anxiety. “I’m sorry. I—I’ll fix it.”

Paul just sighed and moved on with his lunch.

Jim could have burst into song from his feelings of excited glee. Ryan had finally been pushed into a corner, and Jim was eager to see how he resolved the matter of this wardrobe issue.

The next morning, Jim was not disappointed. Ryan arrived at the office looking mortified and hardly meeting anyone’s eye. When his arms were free, they alternated between folding themselves over his chest and wrapping about his waist. He was dressed in a crisp white button-down shirt that was fitted and outlined his slim torso, the disproportionate bulge of his belly, and even his little pointy tits. There were some people who were too distracted to notice. Yet there were others who did double takes, and stared.

-

“Have you seen Smith lately?” Veronica murmured that afternoon as she stuffed some contracts into the file cabinet in the back of Jim’s office. “Tell me that bump isn’t what I think it is…”

Jim remained neutral, ultimately pretending that he did not hear her. “Do you have the report on the Miller account?”

Veronica was better off gossiping with the other secretaries. Jim would not say a word.

Ryan was growing fast, shirts steadily getting tighter around his midsection. That was the problem with fitted suits. There was hardly an inch for growth. In no time the shirts would have to be replaced with roomier ones, and Ryan would have to graduate to a more generous waistband, all while his curves grew more defined in his unforgivingly formfitting attire.

Whether the suits were custom tailored, as Jim suspected, or Ryan had somehow found a male maternity shop for business professionals, the costs were probably adding up. It wasn’t as though Ryan got a paycheck, after all.

Jim snuck glances, trying to be more discreet than before. He watched as Ryan’s shirts steadily grew skin tight, Ryan looking queasy at the mere sight of himself. He watched them strain taut against Ryan’s growing belly as Ryan pushed them to their absolute limits. Then one day, during a meeting, Ryan went to sit down, and a button—actually—

Popped.

Off.

Jim’s breath shuddered out of his throat. Thankfully, no one else seemed to notice how affected he was. There was awkward silence, Ryan positively humiliated. For an instance, Jim could see the plump curve of bare flesh peeking out on Ryan’s torso, before Ryan covered it with his hand.

“Pardon,” said Ryan, face flaming. “I need to go easier on those pastry samples.” There were chuckles; just a few. Ryan wrapped his too-tight blazer around himself and sunk deeply into his seat. No one remarked on what was becoming increasingly evident.

-

Eli was overdue.

That’s all anyone was talking about that weekend.

Jim somehow finagled his way into one of the VIP shows, and it was a severe effort not to bust a nut within the first five minutes.

Eli’s little tits had grown to fat B-cups by then. He was dressed in a sleeveless crop top, shorts, and a pair of boots. His massive belly jutted out like a bolder before him. It was the first time Jim had seen the kid at work, and he almost regretted it for how weak Eli made him.

Jim was weak for the huge, flushed mound of Eli’s belly, straining and shuddering as though it was contracting right there on stage. Eli breathed in desperate huffs as though he was doing lamaze. He was sweat-drenched and truly struggling his way though dance moves. And through it all his dick was visibly hard.

At one point Eli was pulled into a guy’s lap. An important client, no doubt. The two looked practically squashed beneath the over-packed mound. It was so large, it looked unreal. Eli continued with his sharp, desperate panting. His hand clutched his hip, but it really wanted to clutch his ass. He wanted to hold those babies in just a moment longer.

Jim jumped at the sound of his phone ringing in his pocket. He moaned quietly, belatedly noticing that his right hand had buried itself under his waistband and was now gripping tightly at his throbbing cock. A bouncer nearby was throwing Jim dirty looks.

Breathing heavily, Jim slowly retracted his hand. His phone rang again, and this time he managed to pull it out of his pocket. He got up and ducked into the hallway, still uncomfortably aware of how hard he was. “This is Hoch,” he managed into his cellphone.

“Fuck, Jim, I’m glad you picked up.” It was Corbin, one of the department heads. Jim immediately sobered. “The Miller deal fell through. That’s your account.”

“What?” said Jim. That had been a multimillion-dollar contract.

“Miller is demanding some amendments. I can send them to you. He said if its not sorted this weekend he’s taking his business to Relco.”

“Fuck,” said Jim, sweating. He absently watched a male server pass with a tray of martinis, fat tits bobbing merrily. He had a cutely bulging belly in his tight get-up, maybe seven months gone. “I—er—I’m out of town right now sir. I don’t even have my laptop.”

“We can send one of the interns over with it.”

Jim’s instinct was to say No. He couldn’t have anyone see him like this, so weak, so out of control. He opened his mouth, and all he heard was his voice saying, “Send Smith.”

“Fine. Text me your coordinates.” With that, Corbin hung up.

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