Bad Roommate, Part 19

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Summary: Justin’s roommate secretly doses him with experimental drugs, causing Justin’s stomach to progressively transform  into a giant breast. Justin is oblivious and horrified as to what is  happening to his body. In the meantime, his roommate secretly  documents the transformation. Contains: Male: belly expansion, breast expansion, belly-breast, and more.

Previous Chapter 

-

It really did feel like a job now.

Even Kyle’s sleep wasn’t spared from the demands of his body. He was waking up every two or three hours, unable to sleep through the mounting heat and tension. He would groggily sit up and attach his pumps, his belly bobbing as he gasped from the sensation of milk pulsing out of him.

He would wait until the 2-litter collection bottle filled completely, causing the machine to automatically shut off. Though not fully drained, he would be too exhausted to get up and empty the container. Instead, he would doze off for another few hours, until he was inevitably awoken by the latest bout of sharp tension, all his mammaries fully engorged again.

-

Kyle gasped awake. It was early morning, the room illuminated by the pale glow of the sky behind the curtains.

“Nnrgghh…” he groaned, his hands cupping his pressurized belly, where it stuck out under the hem of the too-small tank top he had on. The mound was full and tight, pink and sweaty. Kyle was panting as he fumbled on the bed. He had to get a fresh container, had to pump —

“Hey,” Milton’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

Kyle looked up, only then noticing Milton standing there in his suit and tie. The older man was holding out the breast pump, which looked freshly cleaned, the container emptied.

Kyle accepted it with shaking hands and attached it hurriedly to his belly-nipple before turning it on. His eyes fluttered as the machine got to work, his body relaxing as he sank deeper into his pillows. His belly pulsed, rhythmically, as he huffed a sigh. Kyle’s four chest breasts were still tight and aching, but it wasn’t intolerable. He would deal with that shortly. “Thanks,” Kyle managed as he threw his arm across his face, blocking out the light. He breathed deeply as he contemplated his unusual dilemma. His body was just producing so much milk he could hardly keep up anymore. And every time he was late to pump, he seemed to grow a notch, or several.

“My pleasure,” Milton said, his voice tinged with amusement. “I’m off to work.”

There was a pause between them that lingered awkwardly as Kyle registered that Milton hadn’t moved. On the contrary, Kyle could still feel the other man watching him.

Kyle pulled his arm away from his face, looking up to see Milton staring at his belly with that wistful hunger that meant Milton was reconsidering going to work at all.

“You have that meeting,” Kyle pointed out, wryly.

Milton’s lip curled. “A shame,” he muttered, as he adjusted his tie. He gave Kyle one more long, lascivious look, before he finally left.

Kyle sighed and turned his gaze towards the ceiling. His chest heaved with his deep breathing, all four of his swollen breasts wobbling gently under the shirt stretched across them. He couldn’t believe how crazy things were getting. His body was a damn milk-machine.

And he was exhausted.

-

It wasn’t unusual for Kyle to lick his hand, tasting a stray trickle of milk when he was cleaning the pump or emptying a container. But that afternoon, the flavor gave him pause, his eyelids sinking as he stood there by the kitchen sink, his swollen belly pressing against the counter. Was it getting sweeter? Kyle had never been opposed to the flavor, though always thought it weird to consume something that had come out of his own body. Recycling his own fluids, so to speak. It always seemed gross somehow, even if it had never tasted anything but pleasant. But with everything that had happened with Justin — it just made sense to not even think about that sort of thing.

But it was definitely sweeter now. The taste actually reminded Kyle a lot of Justin’s milk, yet still unique in a substantial way that was indescribable. It was no wonder Milton liked it so much. Milton could never seem to get enough of it. It might have even been better than Justin’s. Kyle pondered this as he trailed his tongue along his hand. Thick, creamy, and sweet. Yet comforting, almost buttery. Kyle was stunned that his own body had produced this fresh nectar with no intervention of sugar or additives.

Kyle smiled to himself and resumed washing the pump, the sensation of his belly pressing against the counter both uncomfortable and arousing.

Later that afternoon, Kyle took another taste. Again, he could hardly believe how his belly could produce something so delicious. It was practically perfect. He allowed himself little tastes of his milk with increasing frequency, his reservations discarded. It seemed harmless. A lick here, a droplet there.

Soon he was harboring an intensifying craving, just like he had with Justin’s milk. After his latest pumping session, Kyle found himself staring at the output, hesitating to dispose of it down the sink drain as he usually did. It seemed a waste.

Kyle uncovered the bottle. He took just a sip, and could not help groaning at the heavenly taste. His whole being felt as though it was glowing from the inside out. The sense of comfort was incredible. He envisioned himself buried in Justin’s plump, heated skin.

His thoughts dissolving into desperation, Kyle chugged the rest of the milk.

-

Kyle released a belch.

It was a few days later, and he felt heavier and more lethargic than ever before. He felt like a damn hippo.

He got himself a new pregnancy girdle on Milton’s dime. It was huge, custom-made, and thankfully, it actually fit. Kyle didn’t have the energy to be ashamed or embarrassed. He appreciated the way it supported his back and kept his huge belly-breast from bouncing around too uncomfortably. But after only an hour or two, the compression always became unbearable. So he wore it in random intervals throughout the day but had no need for it when he was just lying around, an act that seemed to consume most of his time lately.

Kyle was sprawled on the couch, breathing heavily. His hands could never seem to help their compulsion to roam his body, from the four round tits heaving on his chest, each the size of a honeydew, to his huge globe of an abdomen, the orb wider than the rest of him. He must have looked as though he was overdue with triplets. His belly was almost always bloated into a heavy sphere, no amount of pumping seeming to alleviate the fullness within. At least it was tolerable. It was better than the mornings after Kyle had unintentionally missed an overnight pumping session, when he woke up with his abdomen tight and straining, flushed and sweaty, aching and throbbing, feeling ready to burst.

He shifted slightly, feeling rather squashed under his swollen mound. At that moment, it was plump but not unbearable. The fullness actually felt rather good these days. Warm…and stimulating. He shifted again, puffing out a breath.

He absently slid his hands down to cup the undersides of the lower pair of breasts on his chest. His fingers glided into the compressed space between where his lower pair of chest-breasts perched against the top of his belly-breast. The skin there felt itchy and tender. He reminded himself to use some powder to alleviate some of the wet friction that the area was prone to.

Kyle had taken off the girdle before he sat down, now wearing just a pair of basketball shorts that sat low on his hips, and, funnily enough, some of Becca’s maternity-wear.

He had put it on to be ironic, amusing himself and Milton that morning. The nightie hadn’t been uncomfortable, and Kyle hadn’t bothered taking it off. At least it wasn’t absurdly tight like most of his other clothes. Instead, it hung loosely, pulling a little more than halfway over his belly-breast. Sometimes Kyle would glide his fingers across the dark silk, or tug down at it absently.

Other times he would scratch where his flesh was exposed beneath the hem.

His hand rubbed the rounded swell, even as his face scrunched from the various conflicting sensations, his skin tingling as his insides pulsed with increasing tension. Kyle breathed heavily as his palms pushed the nightie further up, to set it at the top of the swell. His belly-nipple was wet, swollen, and pink, nearly the size of an apple by then. Just looking at it made his throat constrict, and made electricity shoot through the painfully sensitive protrusion as it stiffened and swelled from his growing arousal.

Yet Kyle was craving a different sort of pleasure. He pushed himself more upright, leaning on the arm of the couch behind him. His belly-nipple tensed yet more, causing Kyle to press his lips in a hum, his face scrunching. His four chest-nipples ached, Kyle groaning as four corresponding damp spots formed on the nightie. God, he usually had better control than that. His attention shifted back to his big belly-nipple, just as milk started to rise from the dimpled pore in the center, then trickle down the underside of the swell in a thin stream. His breathing thinned.

Kyle wasn’t sure why he was so secretive about his recent…indulgences. He hadn’t even told Milton. Not yet. Instead, Kyle drank his own milk exclusively when Milton was at work. It felt shameful to Kyle, which didn’t make much sense. Until it did.

Kyle fumbled, shaking as he awkwardly tried to maneuver himself closer to the huge, swollen nipple protruding from the center of his own inflated midsection.

Suddenly the craving was overpowering. He wanted it desperately. Kyle knew that retrieving the pump would be a whole process, starting with getting up, then waddling into the kitchen, to finally clean out the device as well as the accompanying containers. It would all take too long. Kyle couldn’t bear the thought of the delay. Yet he knew what he was attempting was ridiculous, and there was no way he would actually be able to — all the same, he continued to fumble as his heart raced and he leaned forward, groaning from the strain, red and uncomfortable, as his various wobbling swells squished into each other. Still, Kyle went for it.

He grunted as he felt a sharp ache, but he leaned in it, somehow planting his tremoring mouth against the hot, tender, belly-nipple. He enclosed the fat protrusion with his lips. Instantly, creamy fluid gushed into his mouth. Kyle moaned, nearly choking on the hot, delicious milk. So fresh and thick, the experience was near euphoric. Milk filled his mouth straight from the source, then poured into belly. Kyle hummed as he drank. He couldn’t believe what he’d been missing.

-

The milk was addictive.

Kyle was vaguely aware of this. Just like Justin’s had been. This was an…important consideration.

There were a lot of uncomfortable things that needed addressing.

It was a few days later, and Kyle was seated in a chair in the kitchen, his huge belly-breast perched on his lap as he absently cupped the side of it.

On his chest, he was wearing two soft, wireless bras, the bottom one strapless. The girdle wrapped around his abdomen was more lightweight than the others he had purchased. Just a band of stretched cotton fabric. It didn’t offer much in terms of support, but it at least covered his huge belly-nipple. Lately just the sensation of cool air on the sensitive nub sent shocks of sensation through Kyle, and sent his milk squirting.

“You’re not serious?” Milton stood across from him, his arms crossed, his mug of coffee on the table left forgotten.

His face pink, Kyle managed to nod.

“Christ,” Milton muttered, and he proceeded to stare at Kyle for a long while. “Do you even have room for that?” He motioned at Kyle’s body.

“It’s not like I have any control of it,” Kyle retorted irritably, wincing as his abdomen gurgled and shivered. “It’s not a choice, it’s just happening.”

Milton still looked stunned. “Okay, just — just repeat what you told me. Just so we’re clear.”

Idiot, Kyle thought, as he drew a deep breath. But he refused to cede to his rising panic. “I said that I’m starting to grow, um, another s-set. Under these ones.” He cupped the lower pair of breasts protruding on his chest.

“Fuck me,” Milton whispered.

“Yeah,” Kyle managed. “And it’s really fucking uncomfortable. I need your help.”