King Bee II, Part 16

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Summary:A young scientist gets stung by a radioactive bee. Contains:Male: bee creature pregnancy, belly expansion, egg laying, breast expansion, lactation, stuffing, partial transformation, penis growth, penis birth.

-

“The procedure was a success,” said Mason with a nod to Jake, who was sitting up on the bed. “Based on the follow-up exams, you haven’t developed any new young. Once you produce the ones you’re carrying, you should be able to lead a—relatively—normal life.”

Jake stared blankly up at him. Beside Dr. Mason stood Connor who was wearing a wan smile and looking fidgety.

Jake’s features pulled into a grimace. “Where are they?” He nodded towards the opening in the wall, through which all of his newest-born children had disappeared, one by one. He could detect a cloying sweet aroma beyond the flap, an scent that had lured his children, something sweeter than his honey. Jake felt a disgruntled buzzing begin to build in the back of his throat.

“Right,” said Mason, looking despondent, if just for a moment. He turned to Connor. “I expect you will take things from here?”

“What’s going on?” growled Jake, his belly shuddering in his lap, his stinger twitching.

Not meeting his eyes, Mason made a hasty departure. Jake tried to get up, but Connor held him down by his shoulders.

“They’re fine,” Connor supplied, looking nervous. “Well—technically speaking. I’ll bring you to see them, I just need you to calm down.”

Reluctantly, Jake forced his muscles to relax, though they seemed to want to jump out of his skin. His stinger continued to twitch restlessly.

In only moments, Connor had a custom wheelchair brought in. Jake was helped to stand and settle himself in the chair, Connor carefully guiding his bee-abdomen through a large opening in the back, upon which there was a stand that cradled the fleshy, egg-laden mass. Jake noted that his belly had gotten considerably smaller, no longer resembling a beach ball, but perhaps, a triplets-pregnancy at term. It sat in his lap, full and round, but not to the point of bursting. Jake watched it rise and fall with his distressed breathing. It just felt odd that he wasn’t growing, but shrinking.

“Where are they?” Jake insisted again as Connor walked slowly alongside him. Jake impatiently pressed the controls on his chair, urging the wheels forward. The door slid and they exited into the corridor.

Connor looked a bit mournful. “Right here.” He stopped, and turned to a glass wall to one of the lab rooms.

Jake wheeled the chair to face the wall, expecting to see a room full of his buzzing children flying around. What he saw instead made him gasp in shock. He covered his mouth. What had they done?

Jake’s stomach lurched, his stinger plumpening and opening, an offspring beginning to crown.

“We froze them,” Connor admitted.

The room beyond the window was full of metallic shelves. Frost covered every surface, the atmosphere seeming almost blue from the evident coldness. Jake pressed his hands to the thick glass, which was as icy as he had expected. Perched upon the endless rows of shelves were his children, bowed, curled, unmoving, and frozen.

“They were trying to attack people, Jake. We ran several tests and stimulations. We wanted to acclimate them to being around humans, but the results were always the same. They tried to sting us. It was the same issue with Ryan’s young. If we hadn’t done this, they would have been left to run amuck. We had to do it to save them, at least until we can find a more permanent solution.”

“Cryo-preservation,” said Jake, his breasts aching, his breathing thin. “This is immoral. They’re human too—ngghhh…” He felt himself starting to birth. Connor hurried behind the wheelchair, pulling out a soft bag attached under the stand for the stinger, and the newborn bees began to drop softly into it. There was even a drawstring, to close it afterwards. Jake shuddered in anger, but this just caused him to birth more, his body pumping and his belly clenching.

When Jake’s body finally stopped, he was flushed and panting, leaning heavily on the arms of the chair. “Wait…don’t…” he gasped, feeling a sense of betrayal as two men in hazmat suits hurried over, as though they had been waiting for the birth. They took the squirming bag from Connor and marched off into a different lab down the corridor.

“Jake, we have no choice,” said Connor plaintively. “Just understand that this is the only way to keep them safe.”

Though Jake’s pragmatic sensibilities fully understood Connor’s argument, he couldn’t help feeling mutinous. He gave a jerky nod. “Take me back to my room.”

Connor sighed, and they left.

-

Over the next few days, Jake was able to birth the remainder of his children. As with the others, they each eventually disappeared through the flap in the wall, despite Jake’s efforts to dissuade them.

Afterwards, Jake was finally allowed out of his discreet prison.

His belly had shrunken substantially, as had his bee abdomen, which was about the size of an American football. His belly was still somewhat full and round, making him look as though he was five months pregnant, though it was substantially softer than how it had been before.

Despite his protestations, the other scientists forced Jake to have a sonogram, if just to ensure that his belly and bee abdomen were truly barren—both were. Jake could have told them himself. He felt anguished, and empty. As though he had been deprived of what had made him whole.

A psychologist named Annie was brought in. She insisted that these feelings would pass. She told Jake that he had been through a traumatic experience, and that with time, Jake would stop longing for children.

All those involved were made to sign confidentiality agreements. Jake was surprised that he had not been fired from the lab, but then, perhaps his colleagues just wanted to keep a close eye on him.

-

Jake surveyed himself in his bedroom mirror one evening. It was two weeks following his final birth at the lab.

He couldn’t deny that it was a relief to be able to fit into regular clothes again.

He turned to his side, cupping the roundness of his belly, which he knew was swollen with fat and not children. Sometimes, however, he pretended it wasn’t. He pretended that he was pregnant again.

His breasts had shrunken rapidly as the demand for honey had withered away. They were B-cups now, still round and plump with honey, so much so that they still leaked on occasion.

His package was much smaller now, though still quite unnaturally large for any other person, and it was still a considerable bulge even in his loosest sweatpants.

His hips were still widened, his backside still quite plump. He looked nothing like the slim man he had been originally, and it would take some work if he wanted to get back into shape. Admittedly, this was the least of his concerns.

Something had been bothering Jake for a while now. A hint of something. An odd compulsion.

Jake turned to his bed and laid himself supine. He idly massaged his lower stomach—the area where he knew the sperm sac was, small and shrunken as it had become. His body had produced it all. There should be no more reserves.

And yet, Jake continued to rub and kneed the fleshy area with his fingers, closing his eyes, arching up, licking his lips. He jerked his hips slightly.

There. He gasped at the sudden blossoming of pressure. His eyes opened wide as he felt a knot pushing into his womb, his abdomen acquiring a subtle lump within the mass of fat.

One more, then.

-

Epilogue

The covert bee-baby was happily buzzing around the ceiling. It unnerved Connor every time he went to Jake’s place. Extraordinarily enough, the creature still had not deemed to impale Connor through the heart. That had to be a good sign. Or something.

“Will you focus?” said Jake irritably.

Connor sucked in a breath, and redirected his attention to the task at hand.

Sex was awkward. Though Jake’s cock had shrunken substantially from its gargantuan peak, it was still unnaturally large, and suffice to say, Connor was not letting Jake put that things inside of him. Which meant, conveniently enough, that Connor always got to lead.

“Just being careful.” Connor awkwardly adjusted Jake’s bee-abdomen, which was still present, still the size and shape of a football. Jake groaned slightly as Connor pushed the mound up and out of the way.

“It’s fine,” Jake breathed. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I don’t trust that,” said Connor, eying Jake’s twitching stinger. He aligned himself with Jake’s entrance, which was unnaturally wet, and pliant, and practically waiting for him.

Jake groaned and reddened, and the two got started.

Over the past few weeks, Jake had lost some weight, though he still had a prominent beer gut, and small breasts. Connor pawed at the mounds in question, and was surprised when his hands encountered stickiness.

“Sometimes…I still…produce honey,” Jake managed.

This just turned Connor on more, and it and was a struggle to maintain control. He felt like a dam that was about to break. And he couldn’t deny the insanity of it all.

-

Jake had been gaining belly weight. A lot of it. It made him nervous, and he did his best to keep it hidden in his oversized lab coat. He hadn’t been exposed to anymore bee stings, and the sac had been emptied after all. He knew that there was no basis for his caginess, and yet he felt oddly…protective.

Elusive as he tried to be, there was no escaping his regular, mandatory, contractually-based, legally-binding, lab physicals.

“Oh my,” Diane gasped midway through the sonogram.

Jake tore his gaze from his gut. His belly was firm and round, making him look as though he was seven months pregnant. But there was none of the characteristic twitching and wriggles that accompanied his bee-pregnancies—none of the tightening or lumpiness. He gave Diane an entreating look.

“Pregnant,” she choked.

Shit, Jake thought. After all the psychologic stuff with letting go of his children—he didn’t think he could go through it all over again.

“Babies,” she said.

“What?”

“Human babies. S-several of them.”

Jake slowly turned to the screen. “Oh god.” The only person who could have done this to him was—Connor. It was completely unprecedented, but somehow his newly-spliced genetics had left him capable to pregnancy. Of carrying fully human children. He scrutinized the images. This wasn’t his specialty. “What…what do you mean by several?”

“At least s-seven. It’s hard to say with certainty. It’s still quite early.”

Jake breathed heavily. Oh god. He felt his heart pound. He looked back down to himself and was suddenly gripped by panic. “H-how are they coming out!?”

-

Connor awoke from another wet dream. Another dream of Jake, at his peak size, pregnant with the bee creatures. He dreamed of himself licking Jake’s fat nipples, sucking his honey, and rubbing the sticky liquid all over the scientist’s plump body. He dreamt of squeezing Jake’s breasts and fucking him into the mattress, his beach ball of a belly bouncing erratically, springs squeaking from the strain of it all. He dreamt of Jake riding him as he struggled to give birth again, birthing through his cock as it swelled and strained, Jake’s length contorting as he cried out in his combined euphoria and pain until it was over, and he collapsed in a bloated heap against Connor’s lap. Connor dreamt of the way Jake was pumped with royal jelly, forcefully, relentlessly, as his abdomen heaved and grew. Flushed and sweaty, growing larger and larger, approaching the size of a boulder as he was practically crushed beneath the mass, and it was just so fucking wonderful.

Connor got out of bed, and practically staggered to the bathroom. He turned on the cold water in the shower and climbed inside.

He thought of Jake’s wriggling stinger, and how it arbitrarily changed form. How it could turn sharp as a pin, then tapered like a mountain, and dimpled, and capable to giving birth.

Connor thought of the way the tip of Jake’s stinger had brushed, oh-so-lightly against his side during his and Jake’s latest coupling.

How he had thought nothing of it. How he had sat up all night, waiting for something to happen, but nothing had.

Connor groaned quietly. God, he felt so horny, and so…tender. He shuddered, and gripped his cock, and jerked it impatiently. He knew it wouldn’t take long. He gasped and leaned back on the shower wall. It only took a half dozen pumps before he was groaning in release, his eyelids fluttering.

After it was over, Connor was slumped there panting, and painfully aware of several things:

The sudden increase of tension.

The fact that was still hard, harder than he had ever been before.

The fact that he had not ejaculated.

Feeling almost feverish, Connor slid his hand up from his throbbing erection and up his torso. He examined himself carefully with his fingers, and it didn’t take him long to encounter a characteristic lump. He cringed as it wriggled. “Shit.”

The End