Laying, Part 5

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Summary: Aiden is livestock on a farm, and every day produces five or so unfertilized eggs, which the farm sells as food with their other products. But when the farm gets esteemed visitor, Dean Chambers, Dean chooses Aiden as a bed-mate, and Aiden has no choice but to produce fertilized eggs, which are not sellable. When Dean leaves, the farmer gives Aiden hormones to double his egg output to make up for lost time, which makes it harder for Aiden to lay his eggs in a timely manner. Even worse, Dean unexpectedly returns, again causing Aiden’s eggs to become fertilized, and Dean isn’t too keen about letting Aiden lay them. Contains: Male: belly expansion, pregnancy, egg laying, breast expansion, stuffing, and more.

Previous Chapter

-

He dressed in a button-down shirt, snug navy slacks, and a matching tailcoat that buttoned around him. Every part of the attire fitted snugly against his body, not stretching, yet holding him firm and smoothly, so to emphasize every curve of his body, from the large swell of his belly, the gentler curve of the mounds on his chest, and finally his noticeably rounded ass. Aiden craned his neck to stare at the wider, plumper mound in the mirror where it stuck out atop his thin legs. He grunted as it quivered. “Ohhh…” His cheeks reddened. He felt completely packed. He wished he could lay at least one egg before he left, but he knew he didn’t have the time. Dean certainly wouldn’t allow it. He absently ran his hands along his rounder ass, silently amazed by how quickly and discreetly it had pumped up, as though to facilitate birthing. Ironically, it was only getting harder. Aiden stared longingly at the tub in the corner.

“Ready?” Dean called from outside the bathroom door.

“Yes,” Aiden managed as he tore his gaze away from the tub. He waddled to the door, opening it to see Dean just outside, looking terribly handsome in a charcoal suit. At seeing Aiden, a pleased smile crossed Dean’s face.

“The tailor did well with you,” Dean said, running his hands along Aiden’s flanks, to cradle the egg-filled mound which bulged profoundly from Aiden’s otherwise slim form.

“It’s certainly—fitted,” Aiden said.

“You look dashing,” said Dean.

Aiden just forced a smile as he gulped.

Dean took a few moments longer to appraised Aiden belly. Aiden felt weirdly self-conscious of the continuous rise and fall of the mound, the gentle heaving as Aiden breathed. Just when Aiden began to wonder if Dean was waiting to spot a new egg to form, Dean finally raised his eyes to Aiden’s, and offered his arm. “Shall we go.”

“Right…sure…” Aiden grabbed the fold of Dean’s forearm.

-

The opera house was expansive with sumptuous corridors covered in dark red carpeting, endless rows of crystal chandeliers, and huge banquets Aiden didn’t even want to look at.

There were gorgeous women dressed in gowns of every color and style with hems that dragged along the carpet. There were dapper men with debonair expressions, and crisp Italian suits tailored with scientific perfection.

And when Aiden passed, on Dean’s arm, everything seemed to come to a stop around them. People gawked, stared, or choked on the hors d’oeurves they’d been munching. An elderly woman covered her crimson lips with her hand and looked up at Dean with a baffled expression. But most of the attention remained on Aiden, who was targeted with looks that ranged from amazement to offense—sometimes even accusation. He felt his cheeks heat and bowed his head, resenting that Dean would take him out in the obscene state he was in. Yet Dean kept his head held high as he guided Aiden around, and smoothly mingled. The man was always greeted with respect and politeness, even if it was sometimes of the synthetic variety.

A stop in a banquet found Aiden stuffing himself both discreetly and continuously, trying to ignore the blatant ogling, because the spectators weren’t the ones contracting his body. Though Dean busied himself with a spiked cup of tea, Aiden knew he was being watched in Dean’s periphery, so he munched with an enthusiasm that was as fabricated as Dean’s indifference to it, his body straining and eyes tearing until Dean suggested they move onto their box.

Thank goodness.

Hand grasped in Dean’s, Aiden hauled himself up to the top box—the most esteemed spot in the venue, Dean told him.

Aiden sunk down in his large, plush seat, beside Dean’s, frowning at the way his belly pressed into the arms as though to outgrow it. His clothing now felt too snug, and he wished he could unbutton the formal tailcoat, but he was wary of the abundance of wait staff that lurked about in the corners, and didn’t want to risk embarrassing Dean, or being gawked at some more.

He snuck a glance at Dean who was elegantly lowering himself to his own seat. Surely the reactions had alerted him in some way? Surely he knew how wrong this whole thing was?

But Dean’s expression betrayed neither embarrassment nor remorse. He looked surprisingly serene as the curtains opened. Aiden slumped back, and tried to focus his attention on the show.

It was hard. He was tight. He shuddered as he developed a new egg just as the first performer began. It happened again, on schedule, after two and a half hours, and then a third time, which made him realize that the lengthiness of the show wasn’t just his own impatience. The shrill songs were giving him a headache.

There was an intermission. Dean asked him if he wanted to walk around, but Aiden felt pasted to his seat, pinned beneath his own weight. He felt drained, and shook his head in lieu of speaking. When Dean returned, he brought Aiden a plate of snacks and a large glass of punch. Aiden forced it all down even before the show started up again, knowing that Dean was undoubtedly drawing pleasure from Aiden’s public torment.

Aiden marveled at his belly. He could feel himself getting a little bigger every time an egg developed, bigger than he had ever been before, bigger than he could handle. He needed to lay. Or at least he desperately wanted to, and he squirmed in his seat and his backside shuddered, and ached, and he struggled to hold it all inside of him.

Sometime Dean’s arm reached out, his hand settling against him, absently rubbing at the warm, swollen mound, as the faint pressure made Aiden flinch.

When the show finally ended, Aiden groaned in relief. He allowed Dean to help him to stand, and almost lost his balance, as he struggled to acquaint himself with his continuously shifting center of gravity. His back ached. He held it, but then stopped himself, and tried to go back to looking as uninteresting as possible.

The tailcoat was beginning to stretch between his buttons, trying to pull apart. It was embarrassing. He wanted to unbutton it, or cover it up somehow. He looked at Dean for direction, but the man was as pleased as ever.

“You look tired,” Dean understated, as he wrapped his arm around Aiden, cupping his swollen flank as he guided him off. “I arranged for a room at the hotel next door.”

Aiden nodded jerkily. He didn’t really care where Dean took him, as long as he got to lie down.

He found himself grateful for the lack of post-show mingling—Dean bid farewell to one or two people—before they were picked up by Dean’s waiting limo in front of the opera house. Smith held the door, but Dean tenderly helped Aiden into the car. Aiden sat down as well as he could, shifting his ass forward so he was sprawled somewhat. He clawed at his tailcoat, not caring if he damaged the fabric, or as buttons snapped as he jerked at his shirt, before his round belly was heaving outward and into the open. He whimpered slightly, his shaking fingers undoing his pants buttons.

“Someone’s ready to have some more babies,” Dean said slightly as he slid into the seat beside him.

Aiden watched his mass heave up and down, or inflate slightly, then sink again. He was breathless and flushed, and with the bottom half of his top torn open, he was doubtful that he would be able to get it back on again—even if his buttons had been left intact. Aiden pressed his lips and just hoped the hotel didn’t have a policy on indecent exposure.

Dean stroked his finger along the sweaty globe as he went back to perusing it. “Always giving your mother such a hard time,” he murmured to the mound, and Aiden flinched as his belly tightened and tensed with a new egg.

And of course, at the term. Aiden had never thought of himself as a “mother.” He felt his throat narrow and tried not to choke.

“I can’t believe how fertile you are,” said Dean, as he stroked Aiden’s bulging navel. “Is it getting more uncomfortable? When your produce them?”

Aiden just groaned and closed his eyes, leaning back as much as he could, but it wasn’t enough. Even out of his clothes, he felt tight and confined, as though his belly was ready to pop out of—something. He looked as though he was overdue with live triplets by then. On his slim body, it felt so much worse. His eyes snapped open when Dean’s idle hand dipped down and grabbed hold if Aiden’s gender.

Aiden took a shuddering breath. “No—don’t—”

But Dean squeezed, and Aiden grunted as he swelled rapidly in the smooth hand. His eyes teared. “Oh g-god…” He didn’t think he could handle an orgasm. The pleasure and torture. He felt heat surge to his lower stomach, as his control on his muscles slipped away, and his belly surged yet more, progressing outwards, his skin prickling, and his back arching uncomfortably. He squirmed.

“I’m not going to be able to hold them in,” Aiden grunted out, eyes squeezed shut. His ass shuddered. Something was going to crown.

“We’ll see about that.” Dean shifted and began to undo his own pants. “Get up.”

It was a struggle. Dean helped him get onto all fours, giving him lascivious looks as Aiden wanted to sob.

Belly pressing uncomfortably into the cushions, Aiden felt his slacks being slid down, beneath his ass. He didn’t look back, but he could imagine Dean admiring it. He must have noticed the growth as well, because he was running his hands up and down it, pushing into the flesh with his fingers.

“Fuck,” Dean hissed. “Are you…wet?”

Aiden was. It was another weird, stupid, body mechanism, meant to facilitate birthing. His body was desperate to get the eggs out.

Dean fucked him relentlessly, pushing eggs deeper, making Aiden cry out as his belly bobbed and small breasts jiggled in his shirt. Dean fucked him as Aiden whimpered either in protest or encouragement. Aiden admittedly couldn’t tell, he just felt the heat as Dean fertilized the latest batch of eggs, and felt his own orgasm splattering against the underside of his rocking mound.

Afterwards he began to slump down, but Dean held him up.

“We’re here,” said Dean breathlessly.

Admittedly, they had been at the hotel for a while, parked in the lot. Smith didn’t dare lower the divider and patiently waited for the car to cease its suggestive rocking.

“Ready for bed?” Dean murmured against his hair.

Aiden wasn’t sure. They had sunk to the car floor by then, Aiden’s belly prodding, really perched against it, because no matter how much he tried to straighten himself, his belly far outspanned the length of his knees where they pressed into the maroon rug beneath them.

Dean reached around to cup his belly button. It was massive by then, the size of a golfball. Dean enclosed it with his fist, idly stroking it between his fingers. It shouldn’t have been sexual but it still made Aiden quiver.

“I think I’d like a…bath,” Aiden managed.

Dean stroked his nape with his tongue. “Good idea.”

-

If the conierge thought Dean and Aiden’s sweaty appearances to be odd, he didn’t comment on it.

He didn’t remark on the way that Aiden blushed as he futilely attempted to hold his shirt together, or how Dean’s clothing was disheveled and his bowtie, undone.

He simply pasted an artificial smile across his face as he expeditiously checked them in and guided them up to the expansive penthouse suite which took up the whole twentieth floor.

Once the door closed behind him, Dean looked for the bar to make himself a drink, and Aiden waddled off towards the bathroom.

He held his ass with his hand, grimacing now and then. He felt eggs shifting, trying to crown again, and bizarrely enough, he felt like they might be successful this time around.

The sex with Dean must have really opened him up. That or the…slick…or whatever it was. Aiden cringed at the thought. Either way, things felt like they were moving along for the first time in a while, and it was frightening, how desperate his body had become. Aiden wanted to ride the momentum. If he could. If Dean allowed him.

Aiden was doubtful. He just hoped that Dean’s serving of drink didn’t stop at one.

“Nghhh…” He groaned, body tensing and ass quivering once he closed the bathroom door behind him. Waddling even more awkwardly, Aiden managed to lean down and turn the tub faucet on. The basin was large and glamorous with a clawfoot design. Aiden panted and feebly cradled the underside of his gut as he watched the water level slowly rise.