Campus, Part 3

Story Directory: $5 Patrons
Story Directory: $10 Patrons
Story Directory: $20 Patrons

Story Schedule

Summary: When Sam leaves home for the first time and starts college, she immediately notices that her campus has a shockingly high fertility rate, among other things. Women walk around with swollen bellies and heavy multiples-pregnancies. Some just tout along fat bellies with no children contained inside of them as they stuff themselves relentlessly with food. Some women have monstrously massive breasts, or hugely swollen asses. And the men all seem to be hung like bulls. When Sam finds herself starting to put on weight herself, she tries to escape the campus, but all her efforts seem to just lead her in circles. In the meantime, she swells. Contains: Female: belly expansion, breast expansion, butt expansion, pregnancy, weight gain, birth.

Previous Chapter

-

Sam just wanted it to be over with.

Rapid pregnancy proved an intense sensation. She found herself hot and trembling, and sweating profusely at any time of the day. Her loins twinged, her insides twitching at the growing pressure against her groin.

Sam’s professors, disturbingly enough, seemed impressed by her exacerbating condition. They gave her loads of extra points, for things as arbitrary as raising her hand, or contributing an answer even if it turned out being inaccurate. They treated her as though she wasn’t like all the other fatigued, mediocre, college students.

“You’re coming along,” said Professor Wells as Sam was leaving History class one afternoon.

Sam shot him a look of horror, before she shuffled off to her Physical Education period.

She was disturbed to find that PE that day was little more than a birthing class. Throughout the period, students rocked and contorted themselves in various obscene ways. Their instructor claimed that the so-called “stretches” were meant to aid posture and alleviate pressure on the lower back. Everyone continued to maneuver around the matter mass fertility on campus. It was like they were under threat or contract, and were obligated to reference pregnancy as “bloating,” “pressure,” or “indigestion,” even when it was happening to themselves.

Sam was wearing an oversized T-shirt dress she had stolen from the lost and found, with leggings beneath. The dress hung off her shoulder and displayed the prominent swell of her breasts. Often she fidgeted and adjusted it, trying to keep herself as concealed as possible. Her waist was the only part of the fabric that hugged loosely against her. She was huge and heavy—she looked at term at least. She looked as though she could drop at any moment.

Sam sat uncomfortably on the gym floor, legs spread to cradle her swollen belly, and palms pressed to the ground behind her to keep her balanced.

Every so often she would shift her tense back. She looked around at the students around her, wondering of their ridiculous contortions could have been at all comfortable. The instructor, Mr. Moore, walked over.

“Sam, I don’t see you trying the poses,” he admonished.

Sam grimaced slightly, and shifted her legs as though to bend into a pose, hoping Mr. Moore would move on to other students, yet he continued to stand there, appraising her. With a long-suffering moue, Sam slowly drew her knees up and arched her back, before gasping at the weight this shoved down on her pelvis, heat pooling in her loins, her thighs quivering.

“Excellent form,” said Moore. He leaned down and pushed her knees even higher.

She groaned at the increasing pressure, her labia swelling, opening—she felt as though she could just push and—

“Very good,” Moore went on. “You should be feeling the pressure shift. It will encourage it to drop when the time comes.”

Sam was aghast. She watched Moore walk off, and gingerly straightened her legs, panting. Oh god, she thought, as she cupped her belly. This was really happening.

Later that afternoon, Sam practically staggered back to her dorm. The abdominal pressure had been bad since gym class, and she wanted nothing more than to collapse on her bed.

“You okay?” said Patty, poking her head up. She was sprawled across the living room couch.

Ignoring her, Sam wobbled to her room. She climbed onto her bed on all fours, her body so tense and uncomfortable, she didn’t think she could lie down. “Unnghhh…” she groaned, one-handedly gripping her belly, rubbing it hard. Maybe those stupid poses had triggered her. Maybe she was finally going to birth this thing. Sam huffed a laugh at the irony of her condition when she hadn’t had sex in the past year. Her laugh was cut short by a groan as the pressure gripped and squeezed her till she couldn’t breathe. It was really happening.

She clutched her belly as it tightened, pushing out, inching forward, as her dress stretched, her belly button visibly swelling against the material. “Oh god, oh god…” she grunted out. She was in labor. She moaned as the familiar pressure shoved down on her loins. She bore done, releasing a strangled noise, face twisted in discomfort.

But then it stopped. The contraction—everything had abruptly ceased. Gasping for breath, Sam looked down at herself. She heard her bedroom door open behind her.

“Omigosh, are you okay?” Patty waddled over and rubbed Sam’s back.

Sam took a few moments for her breathing to even out. “I—I’m not—what happened?” she stammered.

“I’m not sure,” said Patty airily. “Indigestion?”

Sam stared at her. She redirected her attention back to her own stomach. It had really felt like a contraction. Or maybe it had been a fake one. One of those Braxton hicks, as they were called. But something had…undeniably happened. She stared at the way the dress stretched against her form. “Help me up.”

Patty obliged, though it hardly counted as help. Patty wasn’t much use, round as she was herself. But Sam managed to stand, her dorm-mate holding her shoulder.

Sam waddled to the full-length mirror and flinched at her own reflection. Her belly was undeniably larger. She looked due with twins. She turned to her side and examined the way her dress stretched tautly against her where it had previously held her more loosely. She patted her hands along the swollen mound, almost certain it couldn’t truly be attached to her. She watched her plump breasts heave up and down. She felt so stunned and horrified, she didn’t know how to react.

“Are you okay?” Patty repeated.

“I think I have to lie down.”

She got Patty to leave and managed to strip off the dress and replace it with a stretchy tank top that hardly pulled over her mound, her round breasts bulging heavily against the low neckline. She shoved off her leggings, left only in a pair of panties stretched tightly against her newly plump hips and swollen posterior, the material sinking deep into the crack between the globes of her backside, until it seemed more like a thong than anything else.

She laid on her and fidgeted most of the night, between the tight pressing throbbing in her stomach, and the heated pulse that laid heavily on her loins. Her nipples stung, and her breasts felt confined even though she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her innards lurched continuously, and she palmed at the sensation, as though in reprove, though it did little to alleviate the ceaseless discomfort.

Soon she must have dozed off, because she felt a stranger against her back, spooning her, while holding her securely, calloused hands on her belly. He was inside of her, long, thick, and throbbing, stretching her delightfully as they rocked together.

Soon he was pulsing inside of her, seed filling her to the brim with warmth, but it didn’t stop. He filled her more and more till her belly tightened and swelled. “No…” she grunted, clutching her girth as if to hold in the growth. “Stop…nghhh…too much—”

Sam gasped awake. She was sprawled back in bed, her belly bobbing atop her, a great weight pinning her against the mattress.

Groaning, she turned to her side, panting and hugging her mound, curling around it. After several moments, she managed to heave herself up and turn on the lights, before wobbling to the mirror, almost compulsively, where she examined herself. Had she gotten larger? It was hard to tell.

There was a clattering of dishes coming from the kitchen. After another moment of scrutinizing her reflection, Sam forced herself to tear her gaze away. Licking her dry lips, she decided that she could do with a glass of water. She was up anyway. Looking down at her state of undress, Sam waddled to the bureau.

She had a concerning shortage of bottoms that could accommodate her, but she procured a pair of spandex shorts, which stretched so tightly against her ass, they barely qualified as hot-pants by the time she’d pulled them on. Sam thought, wrly, that they served the purpose the panties should have served. Her outfits seemed to be morphing into less-modest versions of themselves. Lightly shaking her head, she waddled to the door. She just wished she could get this over with. Then again, it couldn’t be too much longer for her. She was getting huge.

Patty was awake, and parked in front of the largest cheesecake Sam had ever seen. It was at least six inches high, and took up most of the kitchen table. It had syrup-drenched strawberries on top, and what looked to be buttercream icing.

Patty looked up, and blushed demurely when she saw that Sam had caught what she was up to. “Couldn’t sleep.” Patty shrugged. “Can I interest you in a midnight snack?”

Sam hesitated. Her belly gurgled in keen agreement. It wasn’t as though she had her weight to worry about, after all. Sam snorted. She grabbed herself a plate. “Sure.”

Sam and Patty spent the next few hours talking about how delicious the cake was, which seemed to be the only topic they seemed to agree on. Patty had three slices, and Sam had at least seven—she had lost count. While she expressed astonished about her appetite, Patty just smiled at her in amusement. By dawn, most of the cake was gone, and the two girls waddled back to their respective rooms, Sam’s stomach gurgling, but now from discomfort.

-

She had overdone things.

When Sam had awoken again, it was to a great deal of discomfort.

At present, she stood in her bedroom, leaned back against the wall, her face flushed red and palms on her gut as those pulses of warmth throbbed through her body. There was that squeezing sensation, and she could feel her belly pushing against her hands. “Easy…easy…” she hissed out, as the pressure built, and her belly continued to inch forward. A twinge of electricity shot to her groin, causing her hips to shudder, fluid trickling down her thighs. “Oh!” she yelped as her experienced a jerk of growth that made her back spasm, her knees nearly buckling beneath her. “Mmghhh…” Her skin prickled as it tightened gently this time. Finally, it seemed to stop. Sam waited a few moments just to be certain, breasts jiggling as she panted. She clutched her abdomen the best she could.

“Oh god…” she groaned, wondering if this was to become a regularity. She looked overdue with triplets by then, her back aching, and girth heavier than ever.

She wanted to go back to bed, but she didn’t want to miss her classes. Good grades were the least she could get out of this disturbing experience. Wearily, Sam got dressed.

She squeezed her ass into a spandex skirt that had once been thigh-length, but now consistently attempted to ride up her ass. It was stretched dangerously, but it would have to suffice. She was short on clothes at the moment.

She pulled on a massive blouse she was grateful to have purchased at the campus shop two days before. It was a tight fit, but it at least buttoned. Navigating her feet into a pair of tennis shoes, Sam waddled out of her room, trying to adjust to her shifting center of gravity as she did.

To her horror, Patty had made breakfast. A large one at that.

“I ordered in,” Patty corrected, as though reading Sam’s thoughts. Patty gave a sheepish smile. “We had such a great time bonding last night, I just thought…” she trailed off, nodding to the mountains of eggs slathered in gooey cheese, butter-drenched bagels, plump oil-seeping sausages, crispy bacon, syrup-drenched french toast, chocolate chip pancakes, muffins of every variety, greasy home fries, and various other dishes better suited for a banquet than two college-aged girls.

Sam tried to aim herself for the door. “I really have to go—” But her belly gave a mighty rumble. She feebly grasped for the doorknob. Her mouth watered. The aroma was intoxicating. Sam gulped. “Just one bite,” she amended.

Smiling cheekily, Patty lifted a piece of bacon and bit off a piece. “One bite,” she agreed.