Laying, Part 4

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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

-

By the time he produced four eggs, he was panting and shaky. The eggs all seemed to vary in stage of development, judging by the varying sizes. Thankfully, none were bigger than the first one he had produced that morning. Still, it had taken some effort.

The eggs were beige, all fertilized, as Aiden had expected. He wished he knew what Dean wanted to so many children. Wealthy though he was, Aiden had doubts about Dean’s ability to properly raise them all.

On his last bits of energy, Aiden steeled himself, and struggled to push out a fifth egg while breathing in forceful huffs.

The door opened. “I was looking for you,” said Dean.

Aiden didn’t look up, instead still pushing. But it was no use. He gave up, grunting as he felt the egg slide back upwards into his body. “Hahhhh…hahhhhh…” he panted. “I was…laying.” Aiden sunk to all fours and he marveled at how close his belly was to pressing against the carpeting. He slowly raised his pallid face to his handler.

“Nonsense,” said Dean dismissively. “You need to get your energy up to birth. Come down and eat. It’s time for breakfast.” He held out his arm, his cool expression brooking no argument.

Breakfast proved an uncomfortable affair. As Dean nipped on toast and coffee, the servants seemed to have an unending supply of food for Aiden. The Layer did his best to eat under Dean’s watchful gaze.

“Adequate nutrition will yield healthier offspring,” Dean had said when the heaping platters of chicken eggs and sausage had first been uncovered. He watched Aiden eat with rapt intrigue, and Aiden had no choice but to indulge him. Who was he to protest? After all, he was carrying Dean’s children. The eggs were no longer just inventory.

After his third bowl of porridge, a servant lowered a massive stack of pancakes in front of Aiden, who tried not to heave. He felt flushed, sweaty, and stuffed to bursting. He feebly lifted his fork again. His free hand reached down to tug at his shirt which seemed pasted to him from moisture.

“Some layers develop breasts after a certain period of time that they’re fertilized,” Dean said, arbitrarily. “It has something to do with hormones.”

Aiden tried not to look disgusted.

He drew a deep breath, and lifted his shaking fork to his mouth.

-

Though he had relieved himself of four eggs that morning, by the end of breakfast, Aiden was back to looking overdue in a normal pregnancy. His large belly bulged outwards from his thin frame, and he found himself continually shifting his hips and arching his back, trying to find a comfortable position while touting the heavy burden.

Dean guided him to a birthing chamber, in the basements, of all places. The room was covered in cool, metallic surfaces. In the center was what looked like a low iron commode. Nothing about the chamber looked facilitating or comfortable.

“The more I study, the more I learn about the proper care of eggs,” Dean said, as Aiden stood against the wall, hunched slightly as he clutched his belly. He was developing another one, his mass tightening as he breathed thinly and pretended to listen. “Fertilized eggs are so rare, that there isn’t much literature on their proper handling. As I understand so far, they need to be kept warm. This commode will wrap each egg in insulating cloth the moment you produce them. From there—” Dean indicated a long, thick pipe, that led out of the room, “—the eggs will be transported to a heated chamber I’ve developed specifically for their continued incubation.”

The room was completely out of the way, and the set-up seemed deliberately harsh and impersonal. Aiden had enough trouble birthing the eggs when he was relaxed. He thought of the hot bath tub, how Dean had helped ease the eggs out with murmurs and pressure. Aiden blushed as the thought. That had been ideal. That had worked. But this—this would just lead to more struggle and congestion. Even his straw nest at the farm had been preferable to this.

In addition to that, the thought of the eggs going directly from his womb, down the hard, metallic pipe, and into an unknown chamber, didn’t rest well with Aiden. He wasn’t sure why. He had no particular attachment to them. They were just…just his children.

It all just seemed ludicrous, but Aiden forced a nod. Huffing out his breaths, he began to waddle his way towards the mechanical monstrosity, his large belly sticking out from his strained body. Just as he made to collapse on the commode, Dean caught his arm and pulled him away.

“Oh, you have no time for that now,” Dean said. “We must get you fitted for a proper wardrobe. I can’t have you walking around dressed like a farm layer.” With that, he pulled Aiden back out of the room.

-

Dean was successfully grooming Aiden’s body out of the habit of birthing periodically and on schedule. Aiden wasn’t sure if it was good for his body, but Dean preferred that he fell out of the unsophisticated “farm habit.” Dean didn’t want Aiden getting up in the middle of the night to lay, nor did he like Aiden disrupting meals, sex, or anything else. Aiden was thus limited to laying in the scarce moments of days when Dean’s attention wasn’t focused on him.

The effort was exhausting. Aiden could not lay the eggs nearly as easily as he could on the farm, when they were still new and small inside him.

It was also time-consuming to birth the larger eggs. By the time Aiden managed to pass two or three, a new one had usually blossomed inside him.

It was an endless, frustrating, cycle. When he wasn’t struggling to lay, or entertaining Dean, Aiden tried to rest and gather his strength. Dean dressed him in elegant robes and tunics of the finest material, each outfit hugging his form, tracing the curve of his fecund mound. Aiden also noticed that as time passed, his chest was getting softer, anthills of fat accumulating there, and making him uneasy as he remembered Dean’s remark.

Undoubtedly, Dean was doing this on purpose. He liked to see Aiden large, or just strained, as he was.

At night, Dean rubbed Aiden’s body with the cream, allowing him a temporary comfort, as Aiden twisted and sighed, his tight skin softening to allow for more growth. During meal times, Aiden continued to stuff himself with endless piles of fatty foods under Dean’s close observation. He was slowly accumulating more fat, more softness that layered his belly. Dean would refer to it as “insulation,” though Aiden wasn’t sure what he meant. After meals, Dean seemed satisfied, and Aiden would strain a smile as he caught his breath. He had to be a good breeder for Dean.

That evening, after a particularly large meal, Aiden was leaned back, breathing thinly, his large belly gently heaving where it perched in his lap like a very large ball. His stomach was tight, his face flushed, and he felt an egg uncomfortably pressed against his opening, wanting to crown, but of course, unable to. Aiden would have to put that off till later. He restrained a groan.

Dean stood and came over, behind Aiden’s chair. He gently pushed Aiden forward, Aiden releasing a slight belch. Then Dean rubbed wide circles against his back, kneading his spine. He was almost loving in his ministrations, and Aiden felt strangely placated.

“How many are you developing a day?” Dean asked gently.

Aiden swallowed. “Still—ten, I think,” he managed, breathless.

“Hm…” Dean continued to rub at the knots in his spine. “And how many are you managing to birth each day?”

Aiden didn’t know the right answer to that, so he just opted for the truth. “About e-eight,” he said. Eight, it he was lucky. He definitely wasn’t keeping up with the rate that he was producing them, as evidenced by his steady growth.

Dean said nothing in response, and Aiden chanced a glance back at him. Dean’s expression was carefully blank. But he did not appear displeased.

-

The congestion was building. He was getting huge. He looked overdue with live twins, his belly practically bursting from his slim body. The fine robes and tunics were getting tighter and tighter, his face having taken on a permanent pink flush. He was always breathless and sweaty, always wobbling awkwardly around, either clutching his mound or his arse, scared something would drop. The eggs were practically popping out of his strained body, yet he hardly had the time to guide them.

One evening, Aiden waddled his way down to the birthing chamber, breathing heavily. He hated going down to the basements because of the task of descending the stairs, and the even more arduous struggle of ascending them again, but Dean would allow him to birth nowhere else.

When Aiden finally made it down, he was nearly crying. He drew up his tunic and pulled down his pants, before hobbling towards the commode. He eased himself down with the occasional grunt or belch, his body contorting into the now-awkward squatting position.

Aiden tried to push, but he was already drained. His anxiety just made the birthing process all the harder, but he knew that Dean could call him up at any moment. Aiden was now down to birthing an average of six eggs a day, and the build-up was getting immense.

He grimaced as his hole burned, his body stretching as the mass slowly crowned. Most of the eggs were even larger than softballs by then. Aiden worked with the momentum and the pressure, allowing his strained body to aid him in pushing the egg out. He was so close. If he just got to the halfway point, he was as good as finished. Aiden breathed in huffs as he continued to push, rubbing his belly with the heels of his hands, putting enough pressure to make him groan and belch, as his hole quivered and widened and—

“Aiden!” Dean called.

Aiden was distracted so profoundly that he stopped pushing, and the egg popped back into him, causing him to yelp. He released a whimper and clutched his stomach. He had almost been finished. He wanted to cry. Aiden shifted uncomfortably, feeling uniquely strained. His condition was not normal or conventional. Ordinarily Layers laid eggs as they produced them—they didn’t swell up as Aiden had. His condition couldn’t be healthy, and it certainly wasn’t accepted socially. Rather, it was embarrassing. If other people saw him, they would probably think Aiden mad for holding his eggs in his belly.

The basement door opened, and Dean bounded down the stairs. Aiden was still amazed that Dean could treat the whole thing as normal; even enviable. Aiden was visibly, almost grotesquely, congested.

“I was wondering where you had gotten to,” said Dean insincerely. He took Aiden’s hand and pulled him up, as Aiden grimaced and tried not to topple over. Dean held him steady.

Dean shifted behind his back, so his groin was against Aiden’s growing backside. He ran his hands up and down Aiden’s swollen body, seeming to relish in Aiden’s round form.

“We need some alone time,” Dean murmured.

Aiden mumbled indecipherably in lieu of agreeing.

Dean’s hands moved up to Aiden’s chest, causing Aiden to shiver.

The softness had increased there, accumulating fat turning into small mounds where a flat chest had been. The mounds were soft and round, coming to resemble B-cup breasts. It was a womanly thing, but Dean seemed to like it.

“You know what these mean,” Dean chuckled behind him.

Aiden just blinked in confusion. He shuddered as Dean gently squeezed his nipples through the silk.

“Tonight we’ll be attending the opera,” Dean apprised.

Aiden’s mouth fell open. Dean had never taken him out before. He felt his cheeks heat. “Are you sure that…appropriate?” he asked delicately.

“Of course. You’re carrying my heirs.”

Aiden said no more. He didn’t want to protest or come off as mutinous. He should have been grateful, after all. He never would have been allowed to go to such a luxurious event as a simply farm Layer.