Intern, Part 3

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Summary: Jim hooks up with one of the male interns. Not that the intern remembers. Bothwere pretty drunk that night. And whenever Jim has sex with someone, healways gets them pregnant, often with multiples—rare though male pregnancy may be. Jim knows that he should probably come clean, but he’d muchrather watch his young intern rapidly “bloom” while struggling with hisincreasing 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

-

The following day, before hotel check out, Jim stepped outside for a smoke. The hotel wasn’t far from the club, and getting there had taken a short cab ride at four in the morning that he couldn’t even remember calling. After a night of drinking, dancing, emptying his wallet, and just admiring the people around him, it had been a relief to sink against the incredibly soft mattress and high quality sheets as he closed his eyes and relived the experience again and again in his mind.

Jim found himself wandering along to the shopping center adjoining the hotel. When he finished his cigarette, he stepped into a café and ordered a black coffee. When he took his beverage and turned around, fully intending to go back to the hotel and relax, he was surprised to spot one of the entertainers from the night before.

The big one.

Eli was his name. Jim hadn’t forgotten it. The kid was wearing a pair of sweatpants, the waistband shoved low by the orb of his belly, and a too-small long-sleeved shirt, that left a few inches of his mass exposed. He was flushed and breathing heavily, but seemed slightly more composed than the night before. When Eli met Jim’s gaze, his eyes widened slightly in recognition. “Oh…” he breathed.

Jim aimed for a quizzical look. “Weren’t you at—?”

“The club. Yes. You were…you were there last night, weren’t you?” Eli leaned one arm heavily on the counter while his other accepted a beverage—something iced and frothy, probably closer to a milkshake than a coffee. The barista was staring at Eli, looking a mix of amazed and disturbed. Eli attempted to straighten somewhat, the arm that had been lent on the counter curling around his belly. Or what it could of his belly. God, he was huge. Jim didn’t realize he was staring until Eli cleared his throat.

“Nights…nights can be hard,” Eli managed, with an awkward shrug. Jim wasn’t sure why he was saying it. Perhaps to explain his flustered state the previous evening. “They get more active, what with all…all the activity.” Eli grimaced and arched slightly, his arm tightening around his huge, packed belly.

“Why don’t we get you a seat,” said Jim solicitously. Before Eli could respond, he found a table and pulled out a chair. The place was relatively empty, just an older couple seated together in the corner. Their eyes were pinned on Eli’s gut.

He was huge. Packed. He looked ready to pop. Eli gingerly made his way over and eased himself down with a slight whimper. The mound sat on his lap, pushed into the table. Eli shifted and arched again as Jim appreciated the way his small tits pressed into his shirt.

“Fuck…” Eli breathed under his breath. His belly quavered. He closed his eyes and drew long breaths as though willing his babies to calm the hell down.

Jim struggled to keep his cool. “So how did this…”

Eli’s eyes snapped open, his cheeks reddening even more. Jim could hardly handle how innocent he looked. “An old boyfriend,” Eli managed. “He manipulated me for the duration of our relationship. Secretly dosed me for years. Fertility drugs for fucking horses. Took a while, but he got me how he wanted. Fat. Inflating. Just—blowing up like some freak show. Packed with his babies.”

Jim felt his cock stir.

“I—I had to escape. Had nowhere to go. Boss took me in. And so…so here I am,” Eli managed, and he couldn’t seem to help himself. He reached up and rubbed his chest, eyes lowering, lids fluttering as he bit his lip. “Fuck, they’re tender,” he said in almost a whisper. “Boss says my milk is coming in. They’re starting to grow. Says I need to rub them, help things along.”

Jim tried to breathe evenly. “How many?” he asked.

“T-triplets. First recorded from a male in fifty years.”

“God,” said Jim, truly struggling to control himself. Eli’s claim was inaccurate though. At least one or two of the men Jim had knocked up in the past had carried triplets, though they hadn’t exactly advertised it.

Eli was all out, all belly. The male body wasn’t really equipped for pregnancy, especially narrow one’s like Eli’s. This left his gut pushed out, huger than ever. Three babies growing in there, filling him more every day.

“It must be a lot,” said Jim.

“Yeah,” said Eli. “Boss—he’s doing an amazing thing for…for all of us. But the job, it—it requires a lot of eating. It’s a lot of growth.”

“I can imagine.”

“Can you? I’m not due for another month,” Eli practically whimpered.

“Fuck,” said Jim weakly. “Do you…do you think you’ll be working then? Up till your due date?”

“God I really need the money.”

Jim was fully erect and feared that he might come, untouched.

“I have to…to push this thing as long as I can. Because after that, I’m screwed. Mghhhhh.” Eli held his flanks as his gut wobbled somewhat, like something was trying to escape him. He looked so helpless, so full. His shirt slid steadily upwards, but he didn’t even seem to care. “God, they’re just g-getting so big.”

Jim wanted him. He wanted him so bad, to have him, own him, making him strain and grow and do it again and again. It was one of Jim’s more depraved fantasies, and he tried to push it aside because he was only sinking deeper.

“T-Thanks for listening. I—god—I have to go.” Eli finished his shake with just a few sucks. With that, he planted on hand on the table, and clutched his belly with the other. He struggled his way up to a standing position, both his hands flying to the underside of his mound. How could he not be due for another month? Jim doubted he could handle another inch of growth.

“Yeah,” said Jim awkwardly. He didn’t dare stand.

Eli offered a pained smile, then wobbled off, and left Jim to his thoughts.

-

Jim was so tired and hungover, he hired a driver to take him the four hour trip back to his apartment. He slept for a full day, then made it to the office bright and early on Monday morning, feeling strangely rejuvenated.

Ryan was positively blooming. At first Jim thought he was imagining it, but the intern was bigger. Had he had a little growth spurt? Jim was salivating at the potential. Ryan also seemed cheerful, and just bright in general. Glowing, almost. While talking to one of the assistants, Ryan cupped the mound, and Jim nearly lost it. Did Ryan know? No. It seemed more like an unconscious gesture. Jim took a calming breath.

“You look like hell, Smith,” Jim told him when Ryan came to drop off paperwork at Jim’s office. “Have you eaten today?”

Ryan seemed to deliberate his response, but Jim didn’t wait. He lifted the cover off the platter on his desk and presented several large cake slices of different flavors. There was strawberry cheesecake, red velvet, carrot cake, double chocolate pudding, caramel mocha, and several more slices. Altogether, it probably amounted to one large cake. Ryan stared at the slices with clear desire. Again, his hand unconsciously slid up to cup the small bump, and Jim wondered how many babies he had in there. How big would he get? Would he rival Eli?

Jim was eager to find out.

“I’m thinking of taking on Reae Bakery as a client. Of course, I need to know if they have a quality product.”

Ryan’s eyes snapped up. “I’m not exactly a food critic, sir.” Now he folded his arms over his waist, like he was self-conscious.

“That’s fine, Smith. This cake isn’t geared towards critics, its geared to the average, sugar-loving Americans. You do like desserts, don’t you, Smith?”

“I er…yes sir,” said Ryan, reddening slightly. “Lately…yes.”

“Then you will sample this for me. Every slice.”

Ryan seemed resigned. “Yes sir,” he agreed, and Jim left him to it.

Jim heard from Veronica later that day that Ryan had done more than sample. He had eaten every bite.

“Practically licked the platter clean,” Veronica gossiped. “I don’t know where men get the space.”

“I don’t either.” Jim smiled.

-

Jim took on more food products.

He made Ryan sample everything.

Ryan always looked overwhelmed and worried, but he was practically drooling every time Veronica brought new samples in. He would hold his gut self-consciously while positively ogling the food. And he was so obedient. He always ate every crumb.

Ryan became the “food guy.” Others would ask Ryan to sample foods as well. Jim often told his colleagues about Ryan’s “great feedback” on food products. But then, Ryan seemed to enjoy all the food, and this just pleased everyone.

Ryan was blowing up.

The bump was really stretching his shirts now, his waistband tight, and cutting into him. He looked uncomfortable when he sat and would look down at his gut uneasily. Often he would touch it, perhaps contemplating on the firmness of the swell. But he was still oblivious, if just concerned. He was getting round, and even Veronica would eye his straining shirts, and remark, in the breakroom, that Smith was “chunking up.”

Finally, Ryan came in one day in something looser, something that made his weight gain much more discreet. Almost instantly, people seemed to forget about the bulge.

It was disappointing. But Ryan hadn’t had many options otherwise. He had literally been about to burst out of his button-downs.

Still, Jim wanted everything on show. He supposed it was only a matter of time, though…

One day Jim was web browsing, and found that he couldn’t help himself. He logged on to his social media account. Usually regarding the thing as anathema and limiting his usage of it to when he had to interact with contacts whose phone numbers he had lost, Jim found himself typing the name Ryan Smith into the search bar and narrowing down the results to his location. The name was unbelievably common, and Jim narrowed the results even more, eventually putting in the name of the company. Finally, Jim found him.

He clicked on Ryan’s profile.

There were pictures and public posts, sometimes shared articles. Anything Ryan wrote on his page was professional, as though he was hyper-conscious of the possibility that recruiters might visit.

Jim learned a few new things about the intern. Ryan had played lacrosse in college. Ryan was a competitive chess player. And most intriguingly, Ryan had a girlfriend. That was something Jim had been entirely oblivious of. There were pictures of the two laughing, attending lectures together, even—“yikes”–a proposal (“she said yes!” read the caption).

After that, Jim closed out of the page, feeling ambivalent between thrill and guilt. He wondered when Ryan would find out. When she would find out. And which of them would notice it first. That’s Ryan’s stomach was too firm to be normal. That it was getting too big, growing larger while the rest of his body remained relatively the same.

God, Ryan was growing. He was growing good and fast. He was surging.

In only another few weeks, the loose new shirts weren’t looking too loose on him anymore. They weren’t tight exactly, but they weren’t hiding anything either. It followed the distended shape of Ryan’s gut so that his size was evident once more.

Ryan’s nipples looked unnaturally large the way they pushed out in his shirts. They must have been sensitive. Jim wondered how they felt to be rubbed, or licked, or sucked. He wondered what the fiancé thought about Ryan’s swollen nipples and developing tits. Surely she thought something was up by now? Or maybe the idea that Ryan was pregnant was so far out of the realm of possibility that it hadn’t even crossed her mind. Yet.

Now that the morning sickness was behind him, Ryan couldn’t seem to stop eating. He was ravenous and Jim pushed food on him as often as possible. Sometimes Jim was stunned by how much Ryan could pack down. Even with all the product sampling, Ryan was constantly snacking. If he stopped eating for even fifteen minutes, his stomach would start grumbling embarrassingly.

“God, I have to hit the gym,” Jim heard Ryan mutter to Veronica one day as they were exchanging paperwork. Jim’s office door had been left ajar by his assistant, and he could just make out the conversation.

“Too busy?” Veronica asked.

“With the internship. And wedding prep.”

“And your recent addiction to chocolate?” Veronica teased.

A pause. “Yeah,” said Ryan dryly. “It’s the stress.”

“It’s something,” said Veronica pointedly, and Jim could practically see her eying Ryan’s belly.