Farm Boy, Part 12

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Summary: A high school senior, Max noticed that his older brother has been dipping into the chemical on his parents' farm, and has been gaining a lot of weight. A bit disgusted, a bit curious, Fred tries the chemical hormones himself, and experiences the best high of his life. He quickly introduces the chemical to his two best friends, and the three progressively get addicted, all while experiencing incidental changes, such as butt growth, breast development, belly expansion, in addition to other, stranger, things. Contains: Male: pregnancy, breast expansion, multiple breasts, breast-belly, butt expansion, weight gain, and more. Also, issues of drug addiction.

Previous Chapter

-

Max squirmed on the bed. He released a groan. “You should stop.”

“Why?” said Roger, his voice muffled on Max’s tit flesh.

“What if I get like him?” said Max.

“Who?”

“Adam.”

Roger paused and pulled off. “Your brother? Max, you don’t have a tit-gut, unless I missed something.”

“This is getting out of control,” Max blurted, fumbling somewhat to get out from beneath Roger. “Adam said his milk just kept getting thicker. Is my milk…how is it? Has it changed or anything?”

Roger smirked. “Want to taste it?”

“Eugh, no,” said Max, to Roger’s increasing amusement.

Roger grabbed hold of him, leaned down, and gave one of Max’s nipples a long indulgent suck, causing Max to arch and curse.

“Mm,” Roger gulped, and licked off the stray droplets. “I don’t think it’s changed,” he murmured against Max’s areola. “It’s really creamy. Sweet. But I think it’s always been this good.”

“Creamy?” said Max.

Giving another suck, Roger pulled off Max’s nipple with a harsh tug and a wet pop. Max grunted and twitched.

“It’s fine, Max. You’ve had no issues.” Roger pinned him down to the mattress, nipping greedily at Max’s four fat tits, kissing every inch of the plump flesh in an almost loving manner. “God, you drive me crazy. Max…Max?”

“Mm?” Max noticed that his eyes were closed. He opened them partway.

“Can I fuck your tits?”

“Gross,” was Max’s instinctive response, but then, was it anymore sleazy than the other things they got up to. Max blinked up at the ceiling.

“Can I?” Roger asked again.

It was different. Weird and kinky. He imagined Roger thrusting into the fat, jigging flesh. It freaked him out a little.

But hell, he’d try anything once.

-

Max was still flushed when he left his room an hour later, freshly showered and a little tender. He was wearing a tank top that didn’t properly fit him, like most things, the cotton hugging his chest, cleavage bulging against the neckline. He felt weary but good. Tingly. And really hungry, possibly from all the milk he was producing. As Max headed for the kitchen, he threw a glance at his sleeping brother on the couch, squashed beneath the massive mound of heaving flesh that had become of his abdomen.

When Max got to the kitchen, Paige was there, and he couldn’t manage to meet her eyes. Instead he grabbed a bowl from the cupboard, forcing himself, truly struggling, not to scuttle back to his room and hide. He made himself some cereal, all while feeling Paige’s stare on his form. He uncomfortably tugged at one of he bras he was stuffed into.

“Do you really have to wear bras?” Paige asked blithely. “Is it for our benefit? They don’t even fit you.”

Max threw a glare at Paige who responded by rolling her eyes.

It was true that he was bulging heavily from all sides of the two bras, ready to burst out of them under his tank top. If anything, they served to prevent his nipples from rubbing into his shirt, which was a sensation he didn’t think he could handle at that moment. The bras were admittedly uncomfortable, and the extreme tightness probably negated from the benefits. “I have to get new ones, yeah,” said Max stiffly, hating how hot his face felt.

Paige sat at the table and stirred her coffee while continuing to shamelessly stare at his tits in fascination. Max was already dealing with one person obsessed with his breasts, he didn’t think he could handle another one. Just as Paige opened her mouth to undoubtedly ask another awkward question, Roger walked in, all cheeky and refreshed.

He kissed Max’s lips full and long, causing Max to grunt in surprise. Roger pulled away and Max eyed Roger as sat down and happily dug into Max’s cereal. Sighing, Max got another spoon. He joined Roger at the table and they shared the bowl.

Roger lifted the cereal box, regarding it. “Do you know what this would taste great with?”

“Shut up,” Max snapped.

Roger gave a crooked smile and added more cereal.

This was new for them—having breakfast together. Not sneaking around, hiding from Paige anymore. It was new and nice, but uncomfortable and odd. It was more domestic than before.

There was a long groaning noise from the living room. Max frowned. “I’ll check on him,” he said, but as he got up and walked to the door, he could feel Paige and Roger trailing him.

Adam was awake.

He was still sprawled on the couch, though propped up somewhat on the arm. He had an automated breast pump that must have come out of the worn backpack he had arrived with. He’d somehow managed to attach it to his massive belly-nipple, and the machine was humming, but at times, also sputtering. It was jamming up. Adam was red and panting on the couch, his face sweat soaked as his belly heaved and shuddered. It trembled as Adam strained, and he seemed to be…pushing? Still, the pump wasn’t working, and the milk came out in a slow ooze at most. Adam huffed and threw the pump aside. For a moment, he began to flail and fumble, leaning forward, struggling against he mass of his abdomen, seemingly attempting to actually plant his lips on his own bulging navel.

“You okay?” said Max in uncertainty.

Adam gave a choked gasp and flopped back, not even sparing Max a glance. “There’s just so—much,” he panted out. His belly jerked and he groaned. “More than I can…nrrghhhh…” A vein throbbed on his temple as he pushed. His belly quaked.

“Adam, calm down. You’re going to hurt yourself,” said Max.

“My—my friend,” Adam responded. “I—god—I have to c-call her. She…she used to help me. Like your friend. Like—Roger.” Adam gave another long groan, his belly shuddering and his back arching off the couch. The mound was full, red, and visibly throbbing. Max began to legitimately fear that if Adam pushed himself enough he might burst.

“Adam, stop it. It’s not working. It’s not coming out, so stop trying to force it—”

But Adam just released another long grunt, and reddened, and strained. He looked like a woman in labor.

“We need to make him sleep, or—or sedate him, he—he needs to relax—” Max rambled. He thought of the drug. Maybe if he gave Adam a little of the hormone—

“I have some xanex,” Paige piped in.

“Get it,” said Roger.

Paige hurried off to her bedroom.

It took twenty minutes for the pills to kick in, but soon Adam was lying limp on the couch again, his body relaxed and eyes unfocused. His belly continued to throb, but not with the perilous tremors from before.

It was ominous in its hugeness. It seemed like it protruded out even more now that all of Adam’s muscles had resigned. The belly-breast seemed like an independent, living being, the way it pulsed and seeped. Max stared at it uneasily. “What do we do?” he said.

“I don’t know,” said Roger. “I think he needs some way to drain it. Maybe we should take him to the hospital.”

“Are you nuts?” said Max. “They’ll turn him into some lab experiment.”

The group decided to think on it. And by think, avoid the issue entirely. Max joined Paige at the kitchen table with a pile of textbooks, and spent a few hours on a research paper. When his tits started to ache, he went to the bathroom to pump, then went back to work on his long-neglected coursework. In the meantime, Roger ate their food, chuckled at his phone, and sometimes muttered about lacrosse practice or some internship he was applying for. Max was immersed in a particularly grueling calculous equation when he heard Roger say, “So I hear you do web porn.”

“Yeah, so?” said Paige.

Max slowly looked up.

“Looking for a live show?” Paige winked at Roger.

“Nah,” said Roger, smirking back. “Max could probably use some tips though.”

“Christ, Roger,” said Max, at his wits end. He was beginning to realize that Roger was completely intolerable when he wasn’t sucking or fucking him.

“You’re doing web-porn, Maxie?” said Paige, turning to Max with wide eyes.

“He wants to keep it discreet,” supplied Roger.

“Good luck with that,” Paige snorted, eying up Max’s tits for the umpteenth time. “God, I should have known. I’m sure those freaks go crazy over you. Four huge porn-star tits on a male body. Hell, even I’m getting a little hot just thinking about it.”

“Fuck you,” Max told her with a smile. He turned to Roger and was about to tell him where he could shove his lacrosse racquet, when the sound of the front door slamming shut pulled him from his train of thought.

Max got up and went to the living room to find that Adam was gone and so was his stuff. All that he’d left were a few splatters of thick-looking milk on the floor.

-

Max did another free video, completely topless this time, and feeling all the more mortified. He felt stiff and unnatural as he sat there on camera. He got a huge surge of views, but as the minutes ticked by, viewers dropped off, losing interest.

obvs fake, one of them said.

The nervousness was crippling, but Max tried to relax. He needed to open up. Acting before he could allow himself to think things through, Max moved the camera so that in addition to his torso, his face was visible. At least, the lower half of his face.

“It’s. Not. Fake,” he said firmly, and hesitated. “My name is M…Matt. A few months ago, I found myself with an odd affliction. My tits kept expanding, then I—I fucking grew two more, somehow. Now it’s all just—growing, constantly growing.” He absently reached up to cradle one of his lower tits. “Then there was milk and…god, they’re always so full…” He trailed off, breathless, abashed, and it was strangely intimate, talking to the viewers, revealing himself like this. The view count was stabilizing…no, rising. It was increasing. Max absently rubbed his tingling breast. He was due to pump them soon. He had to…what if he... Max squeezed his swollen nipple and a squirt of milk shot out.

The view count leapt. Adrenaline rushed him. Before he could stop himself, Max lifted his other hand, and squeezed both nipples of his lower breasts in tandem. Right there on camera, he started to milk himself. It was humiliating. It was a mess. He tugged and squeezed, arched and gasped, and the numbers skyrocketed.

-

“I’m not sure what the appeal is,” Max mumbled in Roger’s car a few days later, sort of hating that Roger was the only person he felt comfortable enough with to confide in. “I can start charging for my videos, but I can’t offer viewers anything they haven’t already seen in a free one.”

Roger was focused on the road. “I’m sure people would be willing to pay.”

“I don’t know,” said Max. “There’s nothing new. It’s stupid.”

“Then do something different.”

“I’ve done everything. Jiggle them. Squirt them. What else?” said Max, his face red.

“They’ll tune in,” said Roger.

“Why?”

“The same reason I do.”

“It’s different. We actually…”

“They’ll tune in to see you grow.”

Max blinked. He opened his mouth then closed it. He felt the heat building on his cheeks.

“It’s the biggest appeal. They’ll want to see the…progress.” Roger pulled into the back of the rest stop parking lot. Max couldn’t look at him. His mind had gone blank.

“Want anything?” said Roger as he unbuckled his seatbelt. The tank was still ¾ full but Roger probably wanted to take a piss and grab another of those nasty protein shakes he was always guzzling.

“I’ll come in,” said Max, zipping up his impossibly thick jacket.

Max still wasn’t sure why he had agreed to spend the week at Roger’s parent’s vacation cabin in the mountains, though it wasn’t as though he’d had anything better to do. It was about a five hour drive from the city, and the two were halfway there.

Max followed Roger inside the qwicmart, where Max grabbed some chips, soda, candy, and some of the other crap he’d been craving lately. He was just pulling a pint of ice cream out of one of the freezers when he heard a noise that made him freeze.

A baby crying.

The effect was instant. His breasts tightened and seeped, his body trembling and his breathing thinning. “Fuck.” Max dropped his items right on the floor and hurried out of the mart, ignoring the stares of the other patrons.

He got back into Roger’s car and leaned down, hugging his torso, trying to clear his mind and breathe through it, but he just kept hearing the crying. And his tits were still seeping hard, practically squirting, milk sluicing down his torso, rapidly soaking through his shirt and even his jacket. The mounds heaved, bobbing gently up and down.

The driver’s side door opened.

“Sorry,” said Max quickly. “I’m making a mess.”

“It’s okay,” said Roger as he sat down. He lowered a bag to the back seat, and Max could see that he had purchased a lot of the stuff Max had dropped. Roger gave Max a thoughtful look. “You were really affected by that baby.”

“Shut up.”

Roger rolled his eyes. “Lean back.” He reached over, lowering Max’s seat.

“No, I mean—someone will see,” said Max, hardly resisting as Roger unzipped his jacket.

“It’s fine,” said Roger, sliding up Max’s shirt, climbing over him, and going to work on his four tits.