Farm Boy, Part 9

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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 tried to keep the noise level down in case Paige was home. It was admittedly hard to tell when she came and when she went.

It was 2AM and he was in his room, playing video games, industriously trying to focus despite the frequent twinges and his shuddering abdomen, a consequence of Roger, who was presently knelt down between Max’s spread thighs, his tongue doing ludicrously wonderful things to the four fat nipples that topped off Max’s breasts.

Roger could drink and drink. His thirst was relentless. Though he could only suck one nipple at a time, he could still rub and squeeze at other ones as the tension in Max’s body built and he struggled to keep pleasured sounds from escaping him.

“Uhhh…” The controller dropped from Max’s hand as an orgasm tore through his core and left him trembling. He could feel the growing mess in his pants and the short squirts of milk bursting up from his breasts. Roger pulled off one of his nipples with an audible pop and smirked up at him.

Max groaned and leaned towards him. The kiss seemed almost accidental. It left Max briefly stunned.

“That was nice,” Roger murmured, pulling Max back and examining him. Max’s four nipples were still dripping, breast flesh almost contracting. Smiling, Roger began to get up.

Max panted. “You’ve been by twice a week,” he said breathlessly.

“So?”

“It’s a…a lot of stimulation,” Max said, looking down at his sweat-soaked body. With a languid sigh, he leaned heavily against the back of the futon.

“It’s a good thing if you ask me,” Roger said, tauntingly trailing his hands along Max’s waist.

Max’s breasts were round, heaving, and somehow all still engorged. Max whimpered as one arbitrarily squirted. “Ohhh…” his face reddened. He unconsciously pushed his breasts outward.

“Want me to stop?” Roger asked, already kneeling back down.

Indeed Max did, but he couldn’t get himself to say it. It all just felt too fucking amazing.

Rogers wrapped his arms around him, pulled him closer, and went back down on Max’s nipples. Max could do little more than groan as he covered his eyes with his arm and slumped back into the cushions.

-

All of Roger’s attention was undeniably causing growth, yet Roger made him feel so ridiculously good both physically and emotionally, Max had little hope of resisting him. Roger didn’t treat him like the freak that he was, and that in itself served as an allure.

When Roger wasn’t around they seemed to have phone conversations almost nightly that always just descended into more perversity. Roger would ask questions like, “How big are they now?” and “Are they growing?” or “How much bigger are they gonna get, Max?” Max could never seem to formulate a decipherable remark. He’d manage things like, “Big,” or “Yeah,” and sometimes, “Lots.” Anything he said just turned Roger on. The boy couldn’t get enough, to the point that he was almost possessive of Max’s breasts.

One time Roger said that he wanted them to go out together. The thought was unnerving and ridiculous. Roger had clearly lost his mind (if he’d ever had one).

Things were escalating. Another night Roger urged Max to connect to him by webcam on a site called vidSwoop so they could see each other while they were apart. Max was decidedly apprehension about the notion of getting on the internet with his secret. But it was a private connection, and something was undeniably exciting about the whole thing.

“They’ve been really full,” Max said late that night as he looked back at Roger on his computer screen. Roger’s arm had disappeared at the bottom of the screen, but based on the frequent jerks, it was fairly obvious what he was doing. “I usually pump them twice a day, but now I’m up to three times.” Even then, Max’s four breasts were leaking, seeping into his shirt, which was drenched and dripping. He resisted the urge to reach up and cradle the sore mounds. “If I don’t keep up, I’m definitely going to go up another cup size.”

“Fuck…” Roger muttered breathily.

Max reached down to the hem of his shirt and steadily dragged it up over his head. He was wearing a pair of strapless bras, his large nipples visibly erect, plump breast flesh clearly bulging over the cups. “I don’t think I can handle them getting any bigger,” said Max, half in pleasure, half in anguish.

Roger’s breathing quickened.

“Sometimes, ohhh…” Max groaned, one of his nipples stinging, desperate for relief. “Sometimes I actually have go get up in the middle of the nn…night. If I don’t keep up I’m gonna get huge. You’re turning me into a fucking cow, Roger.”

Roger came. Max could tell by the way his eyes lowered and body shuddered, before he hunched down, gripping his desk.

“I’m coming over,” said Roger definitively.

“Fuck,” Max panted as he weakly nodded then closed his laptop.

-

Things were rapidly getting out of hand. Everything was tight and straining on Max. There wasn’t a single bra he wasn’t overfilling. It was Roger’s fault. The worse Max’s condition got, the more it just seemed to turn Roger on. All the stimulation wasn’t logical or practical. And yet it felt so good, Max was still completely incapable of refusing it.

Their webcam sessions were almost nightly by then. They didn’t even talk sometimes. Some nights, Roger just wanted to watch him go through the process of getting dressed or undressed. He liked to see the way Max’s bras strained and his shirts stretched. The one time Max couldn’t even manage to button himself into his regularly-used night-shirt, Roger had nearly popped a blood vessel.

Tonight, they were doing something new. Roger wanted to see the process of Max pumping. Awkward as it was, Max couldn’t help getting a little turned on. He had come a long way from trying to milk himself with just his fingers in high school (or just ignoring the growing pressure). Max now had a pair of automatic breast pumps with tubing that trailed to large collection bottles, so the process was entirely hands-free.

Max settled down in front of the camera and went through the process of attaching the suction cups and turning the pumps on. It was usually a comfortable enough process, but with Roger intently watching him, Max couldn’t help getting slightly hard. His face twitched or reddened when one of the sucks drew too pleasantly on his nipples. He breathed long and hard, trying to temper himself as he leaned back, unintentionally tugging on the tubing. He closed his eyes, imagining greedy mouths, Roger’s mouths, four of them sucking his four nipples simultaneously. He arched and grunted, but was distracted by a banging noise. Max opened his eyes just in time to see one of the bottles topple over.

“Crap.” Wrenching himself out of her reverie, Max quickly leaned down to collect the fallen bottle. It dripped a bit on his keyboard, but thankfully the cover held. He panted and steadied both liter-sized bottles. He wiped some sweat from his brow and shuddered when he was reacquainted to the rousing sensation of the pump sucking him. He hardly realized that Roger was talking until he shouted the words:

“Max, you went live!”

“What?” said Max, turning back to Roger, the blood draining from his face.

Roger was cutting in and out, his screen flickering. “You—live streaming. Pressed—control key—accident.”

It took a moment for Max to process the remark, face blank, breasts gently rocking with the pulls of the pump. He was certain he had misunderstood. But as he stared at his computer screen, he could see comment bubbles popping up, text remarks from unfamiliar pennames, that said:

‘What the fuck?’

‘Weird shit.’

‘I’m in.’

‘Good cgi. What movie is this fr…’

‘Who the fuck watches stuff like…’

‘f***ot kill yourself…’

‘this is hot. Who is this?’

Completely horrified, Max slammed his laptop shut. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck…” He whispered, gripping his face, trying to rationalize this to be a bad dream or prank, or anything other than it was. Edgily he stood, three of the suction cups detaching and one staying firm. He hardly noticed as he knocked over the milk bottle again, the cap bursting off as it made impact with the floor. He stepped in the puddle of milk as he paced. His cellphone rang continuously, the name Roger lightly up the screen of it.

He had gone live. Max had fucking gone live with his huge fucking tits. His four tits. Everyone had seen it. They—they fucking knew what he was.

Growing more nauseous by the moment, Max curled up in bed, not even bothering to finish pumping himself.

-

This was Roger’s fault. Everything was Roger’s fault.

Max was getting calls from him continuously, but he ignored them all. Sometimes Roger would send pleading messages:

Its no big deal Max =)

Ur face was bearly on screen

No one even knos who u r

Call me u fucker D:

Max srsly CALL ME!!

But Max’s mortification never mitigated. It just grew as he faced the enduring consequences.

His email was absolutely flooded with messages from vidSwoop users who had caught his unintentional livestream. His email address had been public, but fortunately, was also obscure enough that no one had connected his penname to his real life identity.

The messages varied widely. Some were cruel, abusive, and insulting, while others were just confused or humored. One email consisted entirely of laughing/crying emojis. Some people appeared to think that the video had been some bizarre prank he’d done in an effort to go viral.

The smallest division of the commentary was just intrigued, and inquired about future videos. A user whose penname was TheWiggler even offered him money for another video similar to the one Max had accidentally streamed.

That message was so baffling, Max momentarily forgot about his panic. He was completely puzzled that there was a good deal of positive feedback.

In the end, Max shut down the whole email account, and deactivated his account on the video site, which had also been flooded with messages. He took to hiding out, which wasn’t much of a change from his typical day to day behavior, except that there was a marked increase in his drug use.

Max had never been sure if Paige had ever actually moved in, but now on the occasions that he did leave his room, he spotted the odd sign that she had been around in the form of a designer bag, diamond earrings, or some other thing. Paige was doing well judging by her expensive tastes. He wasn’t sure why someone with a $10,000 purse would be renting out his closet, but he supposed it was none of his business.

It sucked that he had to cover himself up so much more than usual—pretty much every time he left his room. He knew that his chance of bumping into Paige was slim, but he didn’t want to risk having his tits out in the open. He’d already fucked things up with the webcam incident, he didn’t need to further increase the level of fuckery (and exposure).

One evening Max awoke from his doze to the doorbell ringing repetitively. A glance at his cell phone told him that it was just after midnight. He heaved himself out of his bed, barely remembering to pull a baggy jacket around himself, though it really wasn’t that concealing on its own. It was the best Max could come up with in his groggy, somewhat inebriated, state. With an irritated sigh, he dragged himself to the door of his apartment and opened it without much thought. “Roger,” he said in surprise at the sight of the other teen. “We can’t do this anymore.” But just the sight of Roger had Max’s tits aching, nipples distending, pushing out for attention.

“Why the hell not?” said Roger, holding the door with his foot before Max could close it on him.

“We fucked up.”

“You fucked up,” Roger countered. “It had nothing to do with me. And you need to calm the fuck down. It wasn’t even a big deal.”

“How could you say that? I—I was exposed!”

“Don’t you think if anyone was able to identify you, it would have blown up by now?” Roger was stepping closer, invading his personal space, and Max found himself backing farther into the apartment. “What are you doing in that shit?” Roger scowled at his jacket, before gripping it roughly, and beginning to pull it open.

Max’s cleavage was flushed and heaving, pressed together and protruding in the inches of his jacket Roger was steadily opening up.

“God, you fucking cow,” Roger breathed.

“Ahem.”

Both boys froze. They turned to see a disheveled Paige standing outside of her door in nothing but a transparent red teddy.

Max gawked for a moment, before recollecting his state. He quickly tried to hide himself behind Roger, desperately hoping that Paige hadn’t noticed the fat pair of tits bulging out of his front. “Sorry for the noise. Didn’t realize you were home,” Max squeaked.

Roger looked confused. Intrigued as well. “Sorry?” he offered.

Paige just gave them an unimpressed look, threw back her mane, and returned to her room.

“Who’s that?” said Roger. He had quickly resumed his efforts to get into Max’s jacket. Max barely managed to drag him towards his room.

“New roommate.”

“Oh.”

“She’s hot right?”

“What? I guess.” Roger started kissing down his collar, and for some reason it was more satisfying than ever before.

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