Shark, Part 19 - Male Version (Patreon)

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Summary: In his career, Logan likes to fuck his competition. Literally. He gets them pregnant and they get out of his way. Contains: Male: pregnancy, belly expansion, breast expansion, lactation, multiples, weight gain, stuffing.

Previous Chapter

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Colton writhed, the fluid denser than water as it pulled him down, warm, sticky, and coating his body. He had unintentionally gulped down several mouthfuls in his struggles before he came to realize that his feet just managed to touch the bottom. It was better to stand on his toes so that he wasn’t constantly coughing and taking more of the icing in. Not that it wasn’t delicious. It was just a shock to be there so suddenly. Soaked and sticky in this metallic room, submerged in a huge pool of icing. Trapped for all he knew.

Colton gasped for breath, the substance lapping against his chin.

He didn’t think he could have swum in this even if he wasn’t pregnant. It was a strange sensation, one he had never thought he would encounter. It was an even stranger predicament. Colton waded over to the edge, looking for something to grip, but the walls were too high, too slippery and smooth. There was nothing to latch onto. No means to get out.

His arms quickly lost strength from the number of times he groped around for something to grab. He dropped back, more of the icing flooding his mouth. The taste was pleasant –perhaps better than the batter had been. Colton drank, even though this didn’t give him comfort, only more strain.

He felt so warm, the thick icing cradling him in ways water simply couldn’t. He could tell that his belly was gurgling, even though he couldn’t hear it. He could feel the tremors of indigestion, his abdomen seeming to throb from the tension that filled it. He knew that he had drastically overeaten, to the point that it was painful, yet he kept on going. Because when else would he ever find himself in a vat of fucking icing?

He felt lethargic. Like he could pass out right there. It made the prospect of escape all the more daunting. What a mess he was in. He groaned, his insides lurching. At least the fatigue eased the anxiety to a degree. He didn’t know what he would do if he panicked. This was preferable, this sugar daze and numbness.

“Errghhh…” Through the icing, he cupped the underside of his belly, which felt absurdly tight. He could feel it tremoring, his face reddening, his skin stinging and tingling, overburdened by the recent surplus of pressure. God, what was wrong with him? No self-control whatsoever. This fucking pregnancy. “Mmghhh…” Never in a million years would he have envisioned himself in this sort of situation. But somehow this baby had changed everything. He was making the strangest decisions, and his life had become some sick joke in consequence.

His blazer was dragging him in one direction or another, feeling twisted and lopsided. Colton managed to pull it off his arms, letting it sink into the icing and disappear. He was left in the shirt he had been wearing beneath it, which was now sticking against him like glue, rendered transparent by its saturation of fluid.

Colton kept drinking. There was nothing else to do. The sweetness seemed to calm him, like a drug might. The sugar numbed his brain in highs that kept him stable as his mind slowly reeled.

He didn’t want to think of what he was waiting for. Someone to find him? A factory worker? And then what? It was better to just drink, let the sugar sedate him, as the belly pain distracted him. It became a game. Push himself further and further.

The icing level was now at his collarbone rather than his chin. Colton came to realize that the level was sinking. At first he thought that he was somehow independently responsible for lowering the volume of icing by consuming it. But Colton quickly realized this just didn’t seem possible. The icing was draining. Moving to some other part of the factory.

Colton wasn’t sure what this meant for him. As the level began to sink at a more rapid pace, he slipped and fumbled, trying to resist the icing dragging him with it toward the center of the pool.

He didn’t have much fight left. Between the fullness, the fatigue, and the pain filling his belly, he would not have been able to resist a tide of water, let alone thick icing pulling him with it. He was a stone or two off his usual balance and hadn’t been exceptionally athletic even before this pregnancy had started.

The icing was draining even more rapidly. It was sliding down past his belly, and Colton found himself staring at the tight swollen orb protruding from his body, his belly button seeming to have doubled in size from the sheer pressure behind it.

Colton couldn’t maintain his footing. He cried out as he was pulled toward the vacuum in the center of the pool, sliding toward an opening and possibly his demise. An embarrassing demise at that.

“Errgh!”

Colton’s eyes were squeezed shut, body tense. He had stopped moving. He felt uncomfortably cradled — stuck, actually. He opened his eyes.

Colton was at the bottom of the pool. He looked down to find himself lodged in a hole, his belly too large to fit through. The opening was rubber, which explained why it was malleable enough to fit him to this point and wasn’t exceedingly uncomfortable. But the pressure was intense, leaving him red and gasping. All his weight was against his belly, which was stubbornly lodged in the hole, preventing him from proceeding to whatever followed this chamber.

“Fuck,” Colton puffed out, as there was little else to say about this type of situation.

His insides seemed to lurch in protest to the external pressure. He felt as though he was being squeezed, first by the food straining him inside, and now by this hole trapping him. He was just too big.

Suddenly the idea of falling into the unknown beneath seemed preferable to his current predicament, the discomfort only escalating. It felt like things were getting tighter, and perhaps they were. Colton struggled to breathe, his belly pulsing, pushing, and tightening as the hole stretched and strained to allow the momentum of his weight. But his body was growing in rebuttal, filling it more. Colton whined out. His hands pressed against the floor of the pool, pushing and trying to heave himself up. It was useless. He wasn’t strong enough. His feet kicked uselessly. He felt one of his shoes fall off.

“Sir, can you hear us?” a male voice called from somewhere below. “Sir, it’s okay to let go! We’re going to catch you! Just let yourself fall,” the voice urged.

Letting oneself fall to unknown depths was already stressful enough. But Colton had the added issue of being stuck. It was mortifying. For him, it wasn’t a matter of letting go or not. That wasn’t the issue.

“Let go!” the speaker insisted.

“C-can’t,” Colton managed, but his voice was a squeak, and he doubted they would have heard him.

There was another surge of pressure, his belly expanding with growth, and the hole truly squeezing him. His face went a puce color, and he nearly retched. Colton was hit by a potent wave of dizziness, his vision going dark at the edges, and he didn’t think that he could breathe.

Every one of his muscles went slack, his body becoming deadweight. The opening only seemed to squeeze him harder, Colton slumping, his body sinking just an inch deeper into the hole.

He shifted more, the icing serving as lubrication as he went down another notch, his body dangerously compressed, and he knew he was passing out. Just before he thought it was over and was about to cede to the most embarrassing death that there ever was, he felt himself drop.

Colton was falling through the air, feeling the rush of adrenaline in a startling instant, before he suddenly hit something bouncy. A net. He sucked in several desperate gasps as full consciousness rushed back to him.

At the same time, he was being gently lowered to the floor. Colton scrambled to get himself upright, even despite the sharp ache of tension in his belly as he sat up, his abdominals shuddering and straining against the lurching pressure.

Colton was sitting up in a large, brightly-lit room. It looked like various pieces of machinery had been shoved aside on short notice, making an open space in the center, where Colton sat on the net. A dozen or so factory workers surrounded him, each of them holding some corner of the net they had used to catch him. And scattered behind them were some people in…suits.

His colleagues.

Once Colton had blinked some of the blurriness out of his vision, he could spot Johnson, Ike, and even Logan, just staring at him. He nearly flinched when he spotted Roger. And slowly, he looked down at himself.

He was completely soaked, somehow even more soaked than if he had been covered in water. The icing saturated his clothing, pasting it against him, outlining every twist, curve, and crevice of his body. Fusing his tank top against him to the point that he might as well have been not wearing anything at all.

His pregnancy was blatant. His fucking tits, his distended nipples, his overstuffed belly — it was all on display for everyone to see. Roger looked completely stunned. Slowly, his eyebrows furrowed, and his face darkened. He did not try to hide the disgust on his wrinkled face. The CEO was famous for his conservative leanings, even incorporating it into contracts and hirings. A pregnant man was likely the most drastic of offenses in his book.

Turning away, Roger walked off with his limp and his cane. Some of the factory workers approached, offering Colton their aid, all while they gawked at him. They helped Colton to his weak legs.

The suits remained still and silent. Finally, Ike shook himself out of his reverie.

“Let’s get you c-cleaned up,” he said to Colton, forcing a smile. “Someone get him a towel. I think there’s a staff shower in this wing, isn’t there?” He gave a questioning look to one of the factory workers.

Colton stood there motionless as a cheap towel was thrown over shoulder, staring at where Roger had disappeared through the door.

Wondering if his career wasn’t over.

-

The showers at the factory were as one would expect: minimalistic and grungy. Colton was cringing as he stood there, trying to quickly rinse himself off despite the uncomfortable sensations twisting and throbbing through his belly. It felt like an overinflated bubble being prodded at.

He was so uncomfortable, it was hard to be efficient, the icing sticking to his hair and creating matted spikes sticking all over, but he did his best to get it clean.

As for clothing, someone left something hanging on the opposite side of the door. Colton grabbed it quickly and pulled it inside. He frowned at the cheap, smock-looking thing. And when he pulled it on, it was tight and inflexible. Of course it would be ridiculous to expect anything more in this type of setting.

When Colton looked at himself in the mirror, he felt like his life had become a joke. The one-piece outfit looked like a janitor’s uniform, the buttons straining as they went down his belly, which still quivered at times. Colton winced and clutched it. He wanted to go home to get himself composed and presentable, but that was several hours’ drive, and this conference was far from over.

It would have been more reasonable to head back to the hotel, which was only twenty minutes away. But missing out on the remaining festivities of the day was just as inexcusable an offence as not showing up to the conference at all.

It’s just the dinner, Colton mused. He would merely have to sit and smile and tolerate a few more meaningless speeches. If he could manage an hour or two without gorging himself like a vacuum, everything would be okay.

He just had to get through dinner. He could worry about the rest later.