To Science, Part 6

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Summary: After Connor's comatose body is donated to science, he wakes up to find himself adorning large, expanding breasts. Contains: Male: breast expansion, lactation, possible breast impregnation later on.

Previous Chapter

-

It was late when Connor made it back to the lab. He signed in, hurried to his quarters, and hastily rubbed his evening treatment into his skin. Afterwards he dropped himself to his bed and fell asleep, barely paying attention to the milk still rolling down the underside of his breasts.

The next morning when Connor awoke, both mounds felt as though they might burst. They were seeping, and pulsating, and just full. Each was larger than his head, nipples the size of golf balls as his shirt stretched to accommodate him.

“Woah,” said Sarah, as she lowered the measuring tape that day. “Five inches in just the past week,” she said in amazement.

Connor didn’t doubt it. He gazed down at his breasts uneasily. Both mounds were hot and sweaty, dripping and tingling. He struggled back into his shirt, now stitched up at the chest, but the threading strained, and even Sarah looked doubtful that it would last much longer. “Has my—package arrived?” Connor gasped out.

Sarah shook her head with an apologetic shrug.

Connor sighed, and returned to his quarters. He decided that he would not go to Pete’s house that day.

Connor’s mind drifted as he tried to relax. His chest was hot, nipples aching, almost keen to be sucked.

He tried to shake those thoughts from his head. He had bigger things to worry about than getting off. Much bigger.

Connor paced, for exercise, he supposed. He clutched his mounds as he walked, they were so swollen and fat. The masses were almost constantly sweat-drenched. They were like basketballs stuffed into his failing shirt.

The mounds overfilled his arms, threatening to spill away from his grasp.

Other times, Connor left them alone, but they bobbed with even his most miniscule movements. His nipples leaked regularly—frequently, now. The scientists were always smiling at him when they passed, looking continuously pleased with his predicament. As successful experiment that they observed in pleasure as he swelled to drastic proportions.

The next day Connor couldn’t stop himself. The isolation was getting to be too much.

He found himself again lounging in Pete’s cabin, this time getting back rub.

He clamped his mouth shut, trying to contain his urge to moan, his breasts gently wobbling as Pete’s fingers kneaded his back. An appreciative groan finally escaped Connor’s lips.

“Like that?” Pete grinned. “Oh—”

Connor opened his eyes.

“I think it’s time for your treatment.”

“Right,” said Connor blushing slightly. “I must have lost track of time.” He pulled the tube out of his pocket and began to unscrew the cap.

Pete caught his hand. “Wait.” Pete got up and walked around to face him, before sitting down, his legs crossed. “Let me.”

Connor vacantly allowed Pete to take the tube from him.

Pete spurted a generous amount of the cream into his hands. Connor needed more and more as his breasts got larger.

Soon enough, Pete was massaging the cream into his burdened skin. Connor groaned as Pete rubbed and rubbed, more than sufficiently. Finally, all of it was absorbed, and Pete began to withdraw, but in a barely audible whimper, Connor entreated, “Don’t stop.”

Pete’s hands returned to Connor’s skin with full pressure, a grin crossing Pete’s lips. He continued with the massage, Connor panting as he felt his breasts start to tighten. His nipples began to push outwards, and Connor felt as though a dam within him was going to burst.

Connor grunted out, and twin streams of milk released from his nipples. They continued to spray for a few minutes as Connor gasped and Pete grinned. “Oh…” said Connor weakly. “No more…”

But Pete continued to rub and squeeze, and Connor was helpless but to push his breasts harder against his palms.

The milk gushed harder, and Connor fell into babbles, quietly pleading, until finally Pete lowered his fingers from tweaking Connor’s hard nipple to replaced them with his lips.

Connor knew the detriments of nursing, but he didn’t care. Arching his back, he pressed himself into Pete’s mouth, sending more milk through his welcome lips. Connor grunted as Pete squeezed his breast with both hands, spraying yet more milk into his mouth.

The session finished with the usual daze. Connor was leaning back on Pete’s chest as Pete placed gentle, comforting rubs on the sides of his mounds.

“I should head back,” said Connor, reluctantly.

“Don’t go,” Pete protested.

“I have to.”

Pete sighed, and leaned down, to press a kiss to Connor’s swollen cleavage. With that, they pulled apart, and Connor began his efforts to get dressed.

-

He carried the fat, round masses on his chest, where they were pressed together, fighting for room to grow. His fat nipples gently pulsated. Connor grunted as they spurted without provocation.

God, they were massive. It wasn’t even possible for breasts to get this large! He felt as though they almost had a mind of their own. They were soft but full. Two massive globes balanced there, topped off with huge nipples that only grew thicker and longer with time.

The maternity bra he had ordered finally arrived, but it wasn’t close to fitting. His cleavage bulged painfully out of it, and the material was immediately soaked. Connor breathed heavily in his combined frustration and exhaustion.

During his exam with Sarah that day, she had a treat for him.

“We got you some new clothes.”

It had been specially ordered, and consisted of a rare super-stretchable material not even fully available in the country yet. She gave him some T-shirts, and tanktops, not unlike the one he had favored in the past. There were even some button-downs. All of the tops were practically pasted to his physique, and yet they comfortably fit, and were functional.

Connor breathed heavily and feebly nodded, not knowing how else to express his appreciation.

Next Sarah handed him try on a bra of the same rare material. It wrapped around him like a very soft and comfortable glove. It was tight, but it didn’t feel tight, just confining in a very specific and satisfactory way. The bras were strapless and there was a subtle padding to the material that seemed to fully absorb his milk.

Connor sighed in relief. He grunted as his nipples swelled, almost in rebuttal to confinement. But the bra bulged as well, following every curve of his form. Thoughtlessly, Connor trailed his fingers over the material in amazement. He grunted again, his face flushing as his nipples stiffened yet more.

Sarah smiled down at his mounds, looking thoughtful. “Connor, we’ve decided to end the trial.”

“What?” said Connor, looking up.

“We have found what we needed in this preliminary stage. The topical treatment seems to have limitless breast expansion potential.”

Connor nodded slowly. He was a testament for that. “So…it’s marketable now?” he said in fear.

“I didn’t say that,” said Sarah, raising her brow. “We’re simply moving on to another subject.”

Connor blanched, hoping that he was misunderstanding. Hoping that they weren’t, in fact, done with him. “But—”

“Don’t worry, Connor,” Sarah interjected. “We will wean you off the treatment by diluting it slightly every few days. You will find any sign of withdrawal to be limited to nonexistent.” Sarah pulled out a fresh tube of the cream, and squirted some onto her hand. “We’re starting today.”

She reached for his breasts, but they began to tremble, and Sarah froze before she could make contact. Both nipples spurted milk onto her lab coat, then began to freely spray. Connor grunted, biting his lip in embarrassment.

Sarah just smiled, seeming pleased nonetheless.

-

“You’re a fee man.”

Connor felt used, betrayed, manipulated, and deceived. All this time, the growth could have ended without much fuss at all.

“Where will I go?” he said blankly.

Sarah smiled warmly. “Anywhere you want.”

It had only taken two weeks for Connor to be weaned off the treatment. His breasts remained large and engorged to his dismay, with no sign of shrinking. After his final treatment the day before, he had undergone a full examination of uncomfortable touching, rubbing, pressing, tapping, and squeezing of his mounds all over. Pictures were taken, notes were scribbled, each mounds prodded, measured, and weighed individually.

“It looks like you have a healthy pair of functional breasts,” Dr. George had professed at the exam’s conclusion.

She said it as though it was something he should be pleased with. Connor glared resentfully at her.

He left the lab with the few belongings he had acquired there. Wearing a navy sleeveless top, which hugged his torso firmly, Connor walked through the forest until he encountered Pete’s cabin. With a sigh, he raised his fist, and knocked.

There was some shuffling inside, before the door swung open. A disheveled Pete poked his head out, but at seeing Connor, he beamed.

As Connor attempted to explain his predicament, Pete squeezed him in a hug, or rather, his chest, in a hug. And then he kissed he mounds individually. “You said you’re off the treatment?” Pete’s face fell.

Connor shrugged.

“Well—that’s great,” Pete smiled again. “No more running off.” He pulled Connor inside.

Connor vaguely wondered whether Pete was more happy to see him or his breasts. He brushed it off, knowing that he should be grateful to be welcome at all.

Connor dumped his bag in a corner of the living room, and the evening descended into another of their regular porn sessions. But this time Pete pulled out some blunts, and for the first time, Connor got high.

“I applied to the lab, you know,” Pete mentioned. He released a short giggle. “It’s actually why I moved out here.”

“You?” said Connor, with an airy grin.

Pete shrugged. “I’m a geneticist with a background in mammalogy.”

“You?” Connor repeated dumbly.

Pete chuckled. “I try not to advertise it.” He got up and went to the fridge.

“Why did they reject you?” said Connor.

“Sexist, I think.” Pete flashed a grin, and it was hard to tell whether he was joking or not. “Food?”

“Yeah,” said Connor. “What about you?”

“I’m good.” Pete licked his lips and nodded to Connor’s chest.

Connor smiled and looked down at himself. He had shed his shirt at some point, and was left only in a tanktop. He gazed at the way his cleavage bulged from the low neckline, his breasts flushed and plump. Damp spots were forming. He lifted his shirt enough for his breasts to pop out, and watched as milk rolled down the underside of each mound, like lovely white rivers.

“All I have are eggs,” said Pete apologetically.

“I’ll help.” Connor grunted as he heaved himself off the floor, reunited with the unpleasant burden of gravity.

“Heavy?” said Pete.

“Full.” Connor wandered over, his shirt still up. He tried to support his mounds from rocking too much, holding their sides, breathing heavily and watching them heave.

He joined Pete behind the counter, smirking as Pete leaned down to fervidly kiss each breast in greeting.