Chapter 22: Josh screams as the first man rams his cock deep into his ass while another latches onto his engorged tit, the suction triggering jets of milk that splatter across the room - Mark watches in horror as the men's pecs visibly swell with each thrust, their moans turning higher-pitched as their own nipples darken and leak.
The door didn’t just open; it seemed to breathe inward, admitting a new wave of men. They moved with a different kind of urgency now, a frantic energy that crackled in the perfumed air. Their forms were blurred by the pink haze, but one detail was starkly clear: every one of them had chests that were no longer flat.
They weren’t like Josh’s or Mark’s, not yet, but they were undeniable. Soft, rounded mounds strained against tight t-shirts and unbuttoned flannels. Some cupped their own developing flesh absently, their hands seeking the same comfort they came here to take.
“Fuck, look at them,” one muttered, his voice tight. He was a bulky guy, his shoulders straining a leather vest, but his chest had a distinct, puffy swell that softened his entire silhouette. “Can’t stop thinking about these fat tits.”
Josh—or the creature he was becoming—lifted his head, a vacant, welcoming smile on his lips. His own mammoth breasts rested on the floor, the nipples dark and wet. “You came back,” he whispered, his voice a reedy flute note.
“Had to,” the bulky man grunted, shoving his jeans down his thighs. His cock sprang out, thick and already leaking. He didn’t bother with preliminaries. He grabbed a handful of Josh’s hair and forced his head forward. “Suck it, you slut. Make it good.”
Josh obeyed, his mouth opening eagerly. He took the length down his throat with a practiced, gagging swallow, his eyes rolling back in blissful submission. The man fucked his face with rough, piston-like strokes, his other hand kneading his own swollen pec through the leather vest.
From the speakers, Serena’s voice was a purr of absolute satisfaction. “See how they return? They can’t help themselves. Every load they pump into your hungry little bodies makes their own tits heavier, fuller. Soon, they won’t be standing at all. They’ll be on all fours right beside you, begging for the same treatment. You’re such good, persuasive sissies.”
Mark watched, frozen, from his corner. The young man from before was gone, but the memory of that sucking mouth on his nipple was a brand on his mind. His own chest ached, a deep, throbbing need that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. He saw the other men in the group, their eyes glazed, their hands constantly straying to their chests. One, a lanky guy with a scraggly beard, kept pinching his own nipple through his shirt, his breath hitching.
The bulky man finished in Josh’s throat with a guttural roar, pulling out and spraying the last few pulses across Josh’s face. Josh lapped at it eagerly, mewling like a kitten. As the man stumbled back, buckling his belt, he looked down at his own chest with a dazed expression. The leather vest was visibly tighter.
Then the lanky man was on Mark. He didn’t speak, just pushed Mark down onto his elbows, his ass in the air. Mark’s heavy breasts swung beneath him, a constant, humiliating reminder.
“Heard you’re giving milk,” the man rasped, his breath hot on Mark’s neck. He spat on his hand and slicked his cock, then positioned himself at Mark’s entrance. “Gonna breed you first. Then I’m having a drink.”
He shoved in, dry and brutal. Mark cried out, a sharp, pained sound that was swallowed by the room’s acoustics. The stretch was agonizing, but almost instantly, a counter-rhythm of pleasure began to build from his tormented nipples, which brushed against the cold floor with every thrust.
“That’s it, take it, you big-titted bitch,” the man grunted, pounding into him. His hands gripped Mark’s hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. The rhythm was punishing, each impact jolting through Mark’s frame, making his breasts sway and jiggle.
The man’s pace became erratic, frantic. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna—I’m gonna come!” he snarled, driving deep and holding there as his body seized. Mark felt the hot, pulsing flood fill him, and the sensation, combined with the grinding pressure on his prostate, triggered his own unwilling climax. He shuddered violently, his own seed spattering the floor beneath him, a sob catching in his throat.
As the man pulled out, panting, he didn’t leave. Instead, he rolled Mark over onto his back. Mark’s massive tits splayed out to the sides, heaving. The man stared, mesmerized, at the swollen, leaking nipples.
“My turn,” he whispered, and he lowered his head, his scraggly beard scratching the tender skin as his mouth closed over one nub.
The suction was immediate and intense. A sweet, rich warmth flooded the man’s mouth as he drank, gulping down the milk that was never meant to be there. Mark arched his back, another broken moan escaping him. It was the most degrading thing he had ever experienced, and his body sang with a perverse, all-consuming pleasure.
When the man finally pulled away, milk dribbling down his chin, he looked… peaceful. His eyes were hazy. He clumsily got to his feet, but instead of walking to the door, he swayed on the spot. He looked down at his own chest, where two distinct, rounded breasts now pushed clearly against his shirt. He touched them, his expression one of distant wonder.
Then, slowly, as if his bones had turned to liquid, he sank to his knees. He didn’t look at Josh or Mark. He just stared at his own reflection in the mirrored wall, at the man with the softening body and the dazed eyes, and he started to crawl.