Match March: Madness - Part 8 (Patreon)

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By the time Thanksgiving arrived, Wayne was 34 weeks pregnant. The barn house smelled of food that had been cooking since early morning, and Wayne waited in the middle of it all, happily rubbing his belly in expectation. His body stretched in all directions so far beyond anything human that even the men who cared for him every day still found themselves stopping short when they looked at him. He couldn’t reposition or roll, not even an inch; everything was too thick, too round, and too heavy at this point.

Wayne weighed over 1,500 pounds, and there was no way to take that in all at once. His body seemed to fill the whole room in folds and curves, too big for the bed, too big for the space, too big for anything that once had been built for a single person. His belly was the main show—a massive, rounded planet that rose high and proud before sloping down toward the mattress. It stretched so far outward that even breathing around it took real effort.

Each slow breath made the surface lift and settle, the skin pulled so tight it shone under the lights. It was warm and glossy from constant oils and creams that the men spread lovingly to help with the immense stretch. Fine veins traced across it like pale blue rivers, and the skin looked thin, as if it could give way at any moment, though it never did.

His chest was just as overwhelming. Each gigantic tit pressed down onto the top of his belly, heavy and swollen far past anything logical. They leaked constantly now—not in small amounts, but abundantly, soaking cloth after cloth, no matter how often someone changed them. Both nipples were permanently engorged, throbbing, and leaking so much that it felt like intense orgasms on his chest every other minute. The pressure never fully eased, and even at rest, there was a sense that everything there was full, tight, and straining.

His broad shoulders had thickened to support it all, gaining more muscle and fat by pure necessity. Even his arms were heavier and softer than they had ever been, resting uselessly at his sides. He never stopped rubbing and soothing his belly; it was an absentminded movement driven by pure instinct and habit at this point. When his tits got particularly tight, he’d reach for his nipples, looking for release, but at this point, they were out of reach. Still, he tried—but there was no way.

Lower down, his hips and ass spread wide against the bed, so broad and full that each side held more mass than an average person’s entire body. They curved outward and downward, perfectly round and heavy, anchoring him in place and jiggling at the faintest shift. His thighs followed the same pattern—swollen from carrying impossible weight for months, but still not enough to give his belly a fight.

Between them, his cock had grown even more, reaching well over 2 feet in length, permanently hard and leaking. It throbbed and rubbed against his lower belly, making him wince now and then. His balls were heavier by the day, filling up with cum, churning and inflating by the minute. They added another layer of sensitivity, weight, and pressure to Wayne’s overburdened body. But deep down, he loved it.

The bed creaked softly beneath him, despite being adjusted and reinforced. He made the room feel smaller, tighter, like everything had to make space just to let him exist. Wayne had nowhere else to go—he couldn’t even if he tried, but he had everything he needed there.

Wayne lay propped up on pillows, flushed and already emotional before the food even arrived. “I feel like I’m already full,” he said weakly, though everyone knew it wasn’t true. He always said that when he was starving or needy for a fuck. The plan was to satisfy both needs beyond his wildest dreams.

Brett had built a special tray for this day. It curved around his belly, fitted carefully so it could rest without pressing too hard anywhere. Brett and Tyrell set it in place first, adjusting it inch by inch while Kevin stood close, helping Wayne adjust into a somewhat comfortable position. Henry and William started bringing the food—plates passed from hand to hand, then set down and replaced again almost immediately.

There was turkey, sliced thick and drenched in gravy. Mashed potatoes whipped smooth and buttery, poured on by the ladle. Stuffing packed with herbs and sausage. Cranberry sauce, sweet rolls, roasted vegetables, and pies of every kind. It was far more than any table could hold, let alone one man, but it never seemed to end.

Brett sat beside Wayne, taking his time on purpose.

He fed the heavily pregnant guy slowly, almost teasingly, talking to him the whole time as if daring him to keep up. “Look at you,” he said with a grin, sliding another forkful into Wayne’s mouth before he could protest. “You said you were full five minutes ago, but you can’t stop.” His free hand rubbed circles along the side of Wayne’s belly, feeling the surface tense and roll beneath his hand as the babies shifted.

Wayne moaned low in his throat as he swallowed. He closed his eyes as his breathing turned shallow. “Brett… fill me. Please,” he mumbled, but still opened his mouth again when the fork came back. “More, please.”

Brett kissed Wayne’s cheek as he chewed and moved to caress his back to tease him.

William took over with a smile. “C’mon,” he teased gently, bringing the next bite near Wayne’s mouth. “All those kids in there are counting on you.” He chuckled when Wayne let out a soft, helpless sound and leaned forward to accept it.

“Ugh… They’re making me so hungry,” Wayne breathed out.

Between bites, William kissed Wayne’s cheek. “Good. That’s it. We have more food to keep them and Daddy satisfied.”

Wayne laughed weakly, breathless and flushed, but he kept eating, even as his belly pushed higher against the tray.

Kevin switched things up, offering smaller bites but never giving Wayne much of a break. “Slow down,” he said, even as he brought the spoon back again almost immediately. “Or don’t,” he added with a smile. “You’re doing fine.” His thumb brushed under Wayne’s chin, wiping away gravy, then rested there for a moment before kissing his lips and caressing his tits.

Wayne groaned softly, overwhelmed more by the attention than the food itself. “Kevin, it’s too much,” he whispered, though his mouth still opened again.

Henry followed, less talkative but impossible to ignore. He fed Wayne with tender firmness, never hesitating, never rushing. “Almost there,” he said, even though someone else was already refilling the tray again. His hand pressed into the side of Wayne’s belly, only firm enough to remind him how full and stretched he really was.

Wayne gasped, and his body trembled as he swallowed. A helpless moan slipped from him as the weight inside him shifted again, and the babies started moving more. Still, he kept eating, almost as if he hadn’t had any food in days.

Tyrell finished the round with a soft smile that made it worse in its own way. Dessert came one after another, spoonfuls of sweetness that Wayne had no room for but took anyway. “You’re incredible,” Tyrell said, almost in awe. “I don’t know how you do this.”

Wayne swallowed slowly, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed deep red. His body felt stretched to its absolute limit. Every bite pushed him closer to bursting—they all knew it, and none of them stopped. They just kept taking turns to fill him more and more. When one was feeding him, the others were rubbing or massaging his body, turning him into a moaning mess.

When it finally stopped, Wayne couldn’t catch his breath at all. His chest rose in short, careful pulls of air, like he had to think about every inhale. His belly stretched so tight it felt like it had turned to stone, pushed even higher by the weight of the food packed inside him. It looked impossibly round, smooth, and shiny. The skin pulled thin as the babies rolled and kicked all at once, reacting to the feast like they’d been set loose.

Wayne let out a long, broken groan, digging his fingers into the sheets as if he needed something to hold onto. “I’m so full,” he panted. “I seriously think I might burst.”

They didn’t rush to fix it. Of course, they didn’t. All five of them leaned in around Wayne instead, crowding his space on purpose, making him feel even more aware of how big and helpless he was. They spread their hands over him everywhere—slow rubs along the sides of his belly, gentle pats near the top, fingers tracing the stretched skin as if mapping it. Someone kissed his cheek, and another did the same above his belly button, right where it was tightest.

Wayne whimpered, overwhelmed by the attention as much as the fullness. His belly shifted again under their hands, another wave of movement making him gasp.

“Just breathe. You’re not going anywhere,” Brett whispered teasingly. “We still have something else to do here. More stuffing, you know what I mean?”

Wayne tried to laugh, but it came out shaky. He nodded weakly, focusing on slow breaths while his belly continued to roll and shift beneath their hands. They worked together to get him in a better position, and Henry immediately got between Wayne’s thick thighs, brushing his massive cock against his ass. The sensation made him tremble, and a needy moan escaped his lips as Henry pushed forward.

Over the next few hours, they took turns to fuck him senseless. As soon as one of them shot a massive load deep into Wayne’s guts, the next one was ready for another round. They pumped gallons of thick cum into him, making his belly tighten and stretch even further. But all along, Wayne begged for more. He demanded more and literally received more—a lot more.

*

A few days later, Tyrell set up a camera for a baby‑bump portrait. On December 8th, Wayne was 36 weeks pregnant and weighed 1,630 pounds. His body filled the bed now. There was no edge left uncovered—his belly took the entire width, rising like a glossy hill that pushed his tits up and forward until they rested against it.

Getting him positioned took time. A lot of time. They talked him through every tiny adjustment, even though Wayne couldn’t really help beyond breathing and holding on. Brett and Henry handled the pillows first, sliding thick supports under his sides inch by inch. Each shift made Wayne suck in a breath and then let it out slowly, like he was bracing against a wave.

“Careful,” he said breathlessly. “You’re gonna start a riot in there.” And sure enough, the babies didn’t like moving. The moment they rolled him even a fraction, his belly reacted—tightening, rippling, then rolling hard under their hands.

William pressed his hand flat against the stretched skin, feeling a strong push from inside. “Okay, yeah,” he said with a grin. “They’re definitely awake.”

Kevin leaned in close to tease him with a baby’s voice. “You feel that?” he asked Wayne. “That’s what happens when you make us move you.”

Wayne groaned, tensing as the motion intensified. “Don’t say it like that,” he protested weakly, even as his belly shifted again, drawing soft laughter from all of them.

They took their time arranging themselves for the photo. Tyrell adjusted the camera, stepping back and forward again, checking angles. Henry positioned himself near Wayne’s shoulder, leaving the other side for Tyrell. Brett and William stood closer to the belly, placing their hands where the skin was tightest. Kevin leaned in from the other side, brushing Wayne’s cheek with his thumb.

“Smile,” Tyrell said, setting up the timer. “You’re doing great.”

Wayne tried. His face was round and flushed, breath a little shaky, but there was calm there too—a softness that surprised even him. When the camera clicked, it caught the impossible size and the closeness of the men. Every hand stayed in place even after the shot was done. No one stepped away right away; they took a moment to admire their work—Wayne’s overinflated body.

That was when it tipped over.

The movement had been too much. Wayne groaned—deep, long, and helpless—a sound that ripped out straight from his chest. His hands instinctively reached to press against the sides of his tits. Pressure climbed fast, sharply, and enormously, like everything inside him had decided to swell at once. His breathing turned shallow as his chest tightened, and heat built under it. Milk began to leak heavily from his nipples, soaking everything around them within seconds, then dripping freely despite their efforts to keep him dry.

“I can’t—I can’t control it,” he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut as the sensation intensified. “There’s too much.” He groaned louder, and his nipples literally exploded, passing from a gentle dripping to a pair of geysers that shot milk uncontrollably.

Brett tilted his head, fascinated. “Damn. Look at that,” he said softly, watching the scene in awe. “Oh, I have an idea,” he added, with a devilish smile.

He quickly brought the industrial breast pumps to deal with the leaking, something they had been doing for weeks now. But by this point, the mattress was already soaked, and a pool of milk formed beneath the bed. Still, Brett carefully fitted the cups around Wayne’s nipples, sealing them snugly without jostling him further.

Then, instead of containers, Brett guided the tubing gently to Wayne’s mouth. “Trust me,” he said, like this was the most natural solution in the world. “Let’s put the cream to good use.”

Wayne laughed weakly. “Of course you would say that,” he responded, and opened his mouth anyway. He didn’t say it, but he loved to be at the men’s mercy.

Henry flipped the switch, and the response was immediate. Milk flowed in a powerful stream, and Wayne swallowed instinctively. His eyes flew open as relief spread through his tits, the pressure easing almost immediately.

At the same time, the cream filled his stomach—quickly, noticeably—stretching him further without discomfort at first. He groaned softly, caught between relief and awe. The sensation overwhelmed him in the best way, so he relaxed while feeding his insatiable hunger.

The flow didn’t slow—it thickened instead. Wayne’s chest kept producing more milk than the pumps could handle, but his stomach still managed to stretch and fit more. Within minutes, the presence of the milk inside made his belly look different. He was literally inflating before the men’s eyes, and Wayne seemed eager to keep going. Even after all these months, he still found ways to leave everybody stunned and immensely horny.

Henry couldn’t help but take his cock out of his pants as it hardened, brushing it against Wayne’s inflating gut. The others quickly did the same, all of them lost in the beauty of the scene. They rubbed their cocks against Wayne’s sides, and he moaned, loving the sensation, but focused on swallowing his own delicious milk. All along, his belly expanded. The surface lifted higher, rounding out further. The skin stretched smooth and glossy, and fine lines faded as the pressure beneath them increased.

His body had long stopped obeying ordinary limits.

Then, a slow ripple rolled across the middle, making Wayne groan. Then another, stronger this time. Wayne sucked in a breath, and his breathing turned ragged while he kept drinking. His gut rose higher, pushing outward and upward, becoming fuller, rounder, and heavier. It felt different, but Wayne was too busy swallowing to explain the sensation.

Another wave of movement rolled through him—stronger this time—and Wayne gasped.

Everybody could see it now. Wayne’s belly wasn’t only filling him up—it was feeding something deeper inside him. The babies shifted constantly, one after another, then all at once, as if the space inside him were expanding to meet their needs. They were growing right before their eyes. Each swallow seemed to trigger another growth spurt. The motions and the kicks grew stronger, and the bulges the babies formed all over the surface were larger by the second as they gained size and weight.

His belly didn’t only hold more—it made room for bigger babies, stretching impossibly, growing broader and higher until it looked like it could take on anything else they gave it. The men moved their hands over him, drawn by instinct. Some of them briefly kissed the warm surface, but the common reaction was stroking their cocks at the sight. They couldn’t help it, and soon, five streams of precum were washing over the expanding middle.

Wayne drank until his hands trembled, until his breath came out slow and heavy, until the sensation blurred into something almost dreamlike. He felt huge, overfull, and still growing. The more he drank, the more his stomach inflated, and the bigger the babies got. And the men—they couldn’t hold their loads back for long, letting their cum coat Wayne’s middle entirely.

*

As the days slid toward mid‑December, nothing slowed down. If anything, Wayne’s body seemed to pick up speed. His belly expanded every day, pushing higher by constant nourishment, milk intake, and an almost nonstop flow of food. There was always someone bringing something warm and rich to him, always another bowl, another cup, another spoon near his mouth. Night and day blurred together. Eating wasn’t something that happened at mealtimes anymore—it was part of being awake.

He turned truly titanic. The bed disappeared beneath him completely. He couldn’t shift, couldn’t adjust, couldn’t even roll his shoulders. Even breathing took effort now. Some days, he joked about it. Other days, he just closed his eyes and let the men talk him through it.

They took turns, always working efficiently.

William stayed closest to Wayne’s head, talking him through breathing when the weight felt like too much. “In through your nose,” he’d whisper. “Slow. You’re doing it. Out again.” Wayne stuck to his voice on the worst days, nodding weakly.

Kevin handled most of the schedules, deliveries, and supplies. He kept lists tucked into his pockets to keep all the cravings attended. He came and went more often now, torn between Wayne and the family waiting at home, but every time he was there, his focus locked right back onto Wayne. He checked trays, adjusted the pillows, and smoothed blankets. Always ensuring everything was exactly right.

Henry made the decisions when Wayne was too overwhelmed to answer questions or choose anything, stepping in without hesitation. “We’ll do it this way,” he’d say. And Wayne would relax immediately, knowing someone had taken the weight of choice off his shoulders—completely surrendered to his new role as a baby machine.

Brett turned feeding into a ritual. He didn’t only bring food—he brought comfort and teasing with it. He talked Wayne through every bite, praised him, joked with him, and rubbed his belly and his sides while he ate. “You’re doing amazing,” he’d say, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Look at you. You are perfect.”

Tyrell documented everything. Measurements, notes, recordings, photos. He tracked Wayne’s growth day by day, fascinated to say the least. He explained what he was doing as he worked, even when Wayne was too tired to respond—aware that deep down, Wayne loved to know how big he was getting.

By the time they leaned fully into the holidays, Wayne was more helpless than he’d ever been—but also more supported. They installed a massive Christmas tree in the barn house, carefully decorated around the bed. Lights glowed softly against Wayne’s stretched skin, reflecting off ornaments that hung within reach. It felt surreal and intimate.

Each man gave Wayne a gift, small but thoughtful, and with each one came a long fucking that left Wayne feeling ready to burst. Wayne cried more than once, overwhelmed by the attention, the care, and the intensity of being loved this deeply while his body felt so close to its limits. Even when they were fucking him senseless, he couldn’t help but smile and feel like the luckiest man on Earth for having so many men willing to keep him satisfied.

His body thickened everywhere. His tits grew heavier by the day, demanding constant care. His hips and ass widened further, spreading him deeper into the bed and preparing him in ways he didn’t understand yet. Inside, the movement never stopped—rolling, shifting, pressure that made him gasp some days and laugh softly on others.

Late at night, when the lights were low, Wayne would rest his hands on his belly and whisper to the babies inside him. He had no idea how many there were. But he knew he wanted to meet them—not as shifting weight beneath his skin, but in his arms—all of them.

It was time for the madness he’d been carrying to—literally—come to life.

“I’m ready,” he said—and for the first time, he really meant it.

...

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