Teacher

Note: This is a story-prompt for Ryan Caday.

$20 Patreon Directory 

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Peter looked smug in the back of the class. But then, he always did these days. His arms were crossed as he watched her intently. He was watching her chest, which had taken on a noticeable growth spurt in recent days. The eighteen-year-old licked his lips, and it took every ounce of self-control for Pam not to storm off.

“Students,” Pam forced out, turning to the chalkboard, grimacing at the thought that Peter was probably eying up her ass now. “Please turn to page 672 in your textbooks. Today we are reviewing quadratic equations in preparation to…” She allowed herself to get lost in equations. It was the only thing that made sixth period bearable these days.

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Pam was expecting. Babies. Perhaps…a good number of them. Unfortunately, she was not carrying her pregnancy in the most conventional way. She had gotten herself into a bit of a mess.

It had only been the second time she had fooled around with a student. He was eighteen so she certainly wasn’t breaking the law. Sometimes Pam just needed simplistic release. Often she eschewed relationships with people her own age—late twenties—because she couldn’t stand the complications. Sometimes she just wanted a man for a day, or a few days, then to move on until she needed release again.

That had not happened with Peter. He was a biomedical genius; some sort of savant. And after their coupling, he had done something to her in her sleep. She had only realized a few weeks later when her nipples had begun to tingle and grow, as her breasts had started to swell, and she received a covert note in her mailbox from Peter, demanding a meeting, or he would ‘tell the principal what she had done.’

That had only been the beginning. Apparently Peter had inseminated her somehow. Her breasts. He had effectively turned the interior of her breasts into wombs, and pumped them with babies. It didn’t even seem possible, but it was happening, and she could feel it now. She didn’t know if she could carry the fetuses to term—she had no clue how her breasts could accommodate it all. But now they were growing, steadily and continuously, getting fuller and heavier every day as she struggled to hide her bizarre condition.

“Glad you made it.” Peter leered at her that day as she entered the empty biology lab. It was almost an hour after school had ended and the campus had been mostly cleared out.

“Didn’t have much of a choice,” Pam grumbled, crossing her arms self-consciously, trying to conceal what she could, but there was no hiding anything these days.

Peter smirked. “Let’s see it.”

Pam puffed out an irritated breath. This was a ritual. Mondays and Fridays, he wanted to see his handiwork, make sure things were progressing smoothly. But mostly, Pam suspected he just wanted to leer at her. He really couldn’t help himself. The pervert.

She shed her huge blazer, sweater, and even her cardigan. An odd arrangement of layers, but she was beginning to get desperate. Beneath she was wearing a spandex shirt that had once been loose on her. She had chosen the top specifically for its elasticity. It would be able to handle the—the nonstop growth. Pam looked down at herself, at the way the globes were stretching out her top, already EE-cups, and seeming to grow every day. One mound shuddered slightly, and she grunted out. This was only the beginning, and she already felt huge. Her nipples were swollen large, the size of marbles. She had stopped wearing bras weeks ago. The restrictive undergarment just felt too uncomfortable against her baby-packed mounds.

“God,” Peter breathed out, biting his bottom lip. It was clear that he got off on this. He breathed evenly and motioned for her to come closer. “Take that off,” he muttered.

Pam obediently inched her way forward. She slowly peeled off her shirt. The mounds bobbed slightly as they were freed of confinement. They sat high and round on her chest, but had a curious padding of softness that just didn’t seem consistent with pregnancy.

Peter “examined,” but really just pawed at her indulgently. She hissed out as his thumb dragged over his nipple. She held onto a lab table as her legs grew weak.

“Your milk’s starting to come in,” Peter noted.

“What?” said Pam blankly.

“Yeah, it will serve as insulation as they get larger. Brilliant, isn’t it?”

“’the fuck, Peter,” Pam snapped. “Trying to hide these things is difficult enough as it is. I’m not gonna—lactate, am I?”

“Maybe,” said Peter, looking amused.

Pam wanted to slap him.

“Take this.” Peter held out a pill in the palm of his hand. He gave her pills often, but never specifically told her what they were for. She suspected now that some were for lactation. Some were hormonal stuff, or prenatals, or whatever. One time after he had given her a little green pill, she had been ravenously hungry, and had cleared out her fridge once she had gotten home.

This one was bright yellow.

“Bon appétit,” he said.

 “Fuck you,” Pam grumbled back as she grabbed the pill and downed it.

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