Shark, Part 28 - Male Version
Added 2025-02-14 20:11:57 +0000 UTC$4/Base Directory
$7/Bronze Directory
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Contains: Male: pregnancy, belly expansion, breast expansion, lactation, multiples, weight gain, stuffing.
This story is a work of fiction. As specified throughout the story, all characters featured in this work are 18 years of age or older.
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A cutely plump, pregnant waiter wheeled a cart over. With the aid of two other servers, he heaved a massive tray up from the cart and lowered it onto Colton and Oharo’s table.
Colton found himself gazing in disbelief up at a small mountain of donuts. There had to be hundreds.
He was flabbergasted that Oharo and Chris would refer to such a thing as “lunch.” They weren’t even trying to be discreet about their efforts to stuff and fatten him.
The donuts were thickly glazed and plump with filling. Colton could see chocolate, custard, jam, hazelnut butter, cannoli cream, and various other fillings oozing out of the sides. As delicious as the pastries smelled, the sheer quantity left him squirming. His belly gurgled. Colton reached out as if to take one, but his hand shook. He knew that once he started, they would expect him to finish it all. He tried to think of a way out of this.
A waiter came to his side, lifting a donut with a gloved hand and bringing it to Colton’s lips.
Colton slapped the hand aside.
“I can feed myself,” he grumbled, unwittingly making a commitment. He could see the way Oharo was watching him with expectation, as Logan and Chris looked on, rather curious and bemused.
If he really had to do this, he might as well do it with some dignity.
And so, with a quavering hand, Colton reached out and lifted the first pastry. He already felt warm and clammy as he brought it to his lips, opening his mouth wide, and taking a large bite.
Thick, creamy chocolate filling gushed into his mouth. God, it was delicious.
The sugar proved addictive as ever, and Colton rapidly demolished that first pastry, before reaching for another one. He ate with enthusiasm, chomping through one pastry after the next.
It was an odd scene, Colton eating hurriedly and impatiently, trying to somehow impress. Or just get this over with. All while his boss and two colleagues watched him mutely. Even some servers lingered around the table, observing Colton feast.
This was taking too long. And it was hard not to feel like a slob when he was the only one eating; over-consuming calories. The only noises at the table were the sounds of his humming and chewing, his pulse pounding in his head, and the occasional gurgle of his stomach as it was pushed closer to capacity.
He stuffed donuts between his lips whole, big as they were. His mouth was completely filled, his cheeks bulging as they were packed with sugar, fat, and the sweet, starchy dough.
The fillings were delicious, but Colton was already getting tired, and he had barely put a dent in the pile. Yet he kept eating – if just because of all the expectation in Mr. Oharo’s gaze. This was Oharo’s first time seeing him in months. Colton couldn’t start off this reunion by disappointing him.
Colton was not sure when he had gotten into this weird, sick contract. He didn’t know how much time had passed as he ate, just that he was sweaty and dizzy, his skin flushed, and his belly feeling as though it was throbbing. He could hear the rush of his own blood in his eardrums, his surroundings seeming to swim as his gaze drifted from one staring face to another.
“S-sorry,” he stammered, perhaps just to give himself a reprieve from stuffing food down. But he didn’t elaborate. He couldn’t. He felt sick, like if he tried to talk again, food might just start coming up.
The staring faces blinked back at him, as though they too weren’t sure what he was apologizing for. He was a spectacle. He was like some sort of circus act, doing a trick. Colton felt mortified. And yet, he grabbed another donut. Forced it into his mouth, and down his throat, hardly even chewing. It was so soft and malleable. His throat was used to it by then, to being forced wide open. He could compress the donuts and swallow them whole.
He had hardly gotten through a quarter of the pile when a new tray was wheeled over. Colton could see it in his peripheral vision as he continued to gobble down pastries. His jumpsuit strained, even tighter than it had been before. His belly felt tense and would quaver at times. It was filling with pressure. He could tell that it was starting to push out.
The cart beside the table held a huge, industrial blender. Dane and another waiter each pulled on a pair of gloves. They then lifted donuts off the pile and threw them into the blender. Colton was puzzled, but he didn’t dare pause in his consumption.
He started to slow down. It was difficult to maintain his speed when he was feeling so packed. The others didn’t seem to mind. They just continued to stare at him. Thankfully, a dialogue started, so there were noises other than Colton’s grunting, groaning, and heavy panting between his bites.
“Just fill it to the top,” a waiter named Dominic was telling Dane. “Yeah, all the way.”
“I wonder how it’s gonna taste,” Dane remarked, wrinkling his nose as Dominic stuffed yet more donuts into the blender, smashing it all down so he could add another layer. Various fillings could be seen gushing out of the donuts, smearing the glass.
“I don’t think it matters. He clearly has a great appetite,” Dominic said, throwing a grin towards Colton. In the meantime, Dane was twisting the top off a 2-quart bottle of heavy cream. He poured the whole thing into the blender.
The two men kept adding things: a stick of butter. Several large spoonfuls of lard. Scoops of vanilla ice cream. Sugar, and more heavy cream. The sight of it was nauseating to Colton, but that could have also been the dozens of donuts he had already crammed down.
“Errgghhh…” he groaned, gripping the edge of the table as his belly quaked.
Someone patted his back. Colton swiveled his head around, surprised to see some random waiter touching him. Another had taken to fanning him with some menus.
“You’re doing so great,” one encouraged.
“You’re blowing up,” said the other. “I’ve never seen anything like it. You’re fantastic. God, you’re like the star attraction.”
Attraction? It was only then that Colton noticed that several customers had come over, now forming a crowd around him. Watching him, like this was some sick show. Men licked their lips, their eyes glued to his orb.
I’m — an — executive, Colton would have specified, had he thought he could speak. But all that came out of his mouth was another groan. He was just so packed, so tight. He had to be economic with his movements, or he was sure he would suffocate. There was no purpose in speaking, let alone disagreeing with some random waiter who didn’t know his place.
There was a roaring noise as the blender started, the contents turning into a beige slop as it was rapidly puréed. Only a moment later, the blender turned off again, a few inches of space now appearing at the top.
Dominic peeled the cover off and carefully shoved more donuts into the container. Colton’s belly heaved up and down as he struggled to breathe. His hazy mind had managed to put it together. That was for him.
Colton’s speed had devolved to a crawl, his hands clammy and trembling as he slowly lifted pastries. The blender started again, just for another moment. Now it was packed to the brim with puréed donuts.
“Okay Colton, this should make things a little easier for you,” Dane said as he pulled the cover off again. Dominic, meanwhile, had procured a funnel from one of the shelves under the cart.
Colton blinked at them, but didn’t think he could speak to protest. He opened his mouth, but his belly shuddered, and he groaned, clutching it. The mound was pressing into the edge of the table, though Colton was certain there had been enough space earlier.
Suddenly, several hands were on him. They pulled back his chair, so that his belly was no longer shoved against the edge of the table. Colton was pushed to lean against the back of the chair, his head tilted as the tip of the funnel was shoved into his mouth.
He could do little more than moan.
But maybe this was preferable to how things had been going. At the rate he had been eating, it could have taken all day. Granted he didn’t pass out first.
Two other servers struggled to heave the huge blender over to him. A third server joined, aiding in tipping the blender toward the funnel, allowing the thick slop to pour through, and subsequently gush into Colton’s mouth.
“See how compliant he is,” Oharo finally spoke. “You should all be aspiring to become more like Colton. He is the paragon of what it means to work at Oho’s.”
Colton could merely moan as the sweet, thick gunk filled his mouth. He gulped it down. Though this was easier, the gunk certainly felt heavier than the donuts as it hit his stomach. It seemed to fill in every centimeter of space that wasn’t already occupied. He could feel his stomach tightening even more rapidly than it had before, his face flushing red as he desperately gulped against the ceaseless flood of puréed donuts.
It was nauseatingly oily and sweet. His eyelids fluttered, and he was terribly dizzy, yet he just kept drinking. Because somehow, this was his job, apparently.
His jumpsuit was so tight, he could feel it shrinking against him, his belly filling and expanding, growing fuller and rounder. Spreading and advancing, as his feet scuffed the floor, the weight of the mass heavy on his lap. His jumpsuit inched along, exposing more of his ankles and chest. He tugged feebly at the material that was stretched so tautly, he feared it might tear.
“Atta boy,” Dominic praised. “There you go. Keep drinking. Get it all down.” In the meantime, the blender wasn’t even halfway done. The servers continued to steadily pour the gunk into the funnel, their arms trembling from the awkward weight of the blender, sweat beading on their foreheads.
Colton’s belly was pulsating. He struggled to draw breaths of air in the scarce moments that he wasn’t gulping. He was almost afraid to continue, but he had no choice. Logan was watching intently, just leering at the scene. Chris seemed entirely fascinated. And Oharo had a cruel pleasure about his eyes, watching with rapt focus. Colton’s gaze darted to the ceiling, then blurred, but he forced himself not to pass out. He kept going.
His body grew tighter, the coverage of his jumpsuit only getting worse. He felt like his tits might pop out at any moment. His nipples were stinging, swollen and distended, his areolas puffy and plump. His groin was hot and throbbing, every body system in overdrive as it struggled to accommodate the increasing dimension of his body.
“Almost done,” Dane assured, though Colton couldn’t tell if that was true or not.
The surrounding men—the customers—they were practically drooling. This was the sort of thing they wanted. This was the whole draw of the café, and today, they were certainly in luck.
Can’t, Colton thought, yet he kept chugging. His skin was prickling, stretching, and straining. He heard a tearing noise, and could feel where a seam had split at the side of his belly, the jumpsuit material tearing apart to expose swollen skin. And still, he kept drinking the gunk.
He heard another blender start running. There was never a pause to his consumption. He just kept drinking, acclimating to the pain and tightness, resigning himself to just bursting.
Colton didn’t know how much more time passed before the substance finally stopped pouring into him. He blinked several times as the funnel was removed. He could see that all the donuts were gone. And she could see two dirtied, empty blenders. The servers must have been cycling them, ensuring a continuous stream.
His stomach gurgled and shuddered. He slowly looked down, taking in its massiveness. He couldn’t see any part of his lap anymore. He was just huge. He looked due with triplets, or quads. He was objectively gigantic, transcending all airs of ever having an ordinary pregnancy. Nothing about this was normal.
Colton dropped his head back and groaned.
