Secret Family Ties - Interlude: Dorm Secrets 2
[Story Collection] | [Interlude 1] [●] [Interlude 3🔜]
Takes place between Part 1 and Part 3
Mark and Kyle spent the summer at college, taking summer classes and adjusting to their growing bodies and the reality of their impending motherhood—or was it fatherhood? Their already ill-fitting wardrobes were put to the limits as they forced their clothes onto their expanding frames day after day. Beyond their struggles with clothing, everyday tasks became increasingly difficult. Climbing stairs left them winded, and simply rolling out of bed each morning was an exhausting task as their bellies grew heavier.
Sitting for long periods became uncomfortable, their swollen forms making it hard to find a position that didn’t strain their backs. Even eating was a challenge—their appetites surged, but they found themselves quickly full, their stomachs pressing against their ribs as their babies took up more space. The summer heat only made things worse, leaving them overheated and sweaty, often requiring multiple showers a day to feel remotely comfortable. Their daily routines had become a balancing act that required constant adjustment as their bodies continued to change in ways they had never anticipated.
It started with their briefs. What once fit snugly around their waists and hips now felt unbearably tight, especially as their asses rounded out from the extra weight. Every movement felt restrictive, the elastic digging into their softening flesh, leaving deep indentations in their skin. One morning, Kyle stretched and carefully bent to grab a book off the floor when he heard an unmistakable rip. His briefs had split clean down the middle, the fabric and seams unable to handle the pressure of his expanding butt.
“Oh, come on!” Kyle groaned, looking down at the ruined fabric. Mark turned at the sound, stifling laughter as Kyle huffed in frustration. “Do you know how many pairs I’ve gone through this week?”
Mark smirked but didn’t get a chance to tease before karma struck. Later that day, he plopped down onto their couch with a sigh of relief, only to hear his own humiliating tear. The waistband of his briefs gave up entirely, the fabric snapping against his skin. His face turned red as Kyle burst out laughing.
“Well, guess it’s your turn now, genius,” Kyle said as Mark blushed.
Realizing that constantly replacing their underwear wasn’t feasible, they resigned themselves to wearing sweatpants commando-style. Even then, the soft material was beginning to strain over their thickening thighs, widening hips, and rounded butts. The fabric would ride up uncomfortably between their glutes, forcing them to adjust the sweatpants as they waddled around campus. Sitting down was its own ordeal—the material bunched up in the worst places, causing them to squirm in frustration as they tried to shift for relief. Every morning was a battle to squeeze into their clothes, the waistbands pressing tightly into their growing bellies, and each night, they felt the growing discomfort of fabric stretched beyond its limits, leaving faint indentations across their skin.
Their undershirts didn’t fare much better. Originally meant to be a barrier under their usual T-shirts and hoodies, they became makeshift “bras,” barely containing their growing tits. By mid-summer, they had stretched so tight that the fabric rode up, pressing uncomfortably against their sensitive nipples. They could feel the weight of their tits more every day, the swelling unmistakable as they filled up with milk.
Faced with the reality that their bodies weren’t done growing, they finally caved and made an embarrassing trip to the local maternity store. From the moment they waddled inside, they felt out of place. Racks of large, flowy maternity dresses, nursing bras, and belly-supporting leggings surrounded them. An older woman, presumably the store owner, approached with a polite smile.
“Oh, dears, shopping for your partners?” She asked kindly.
Mark and Kyle exchanged a mortified glance. “Uh… no. For us,” Kyle muttered.
To their horror, the woman didn’t even blink. “Oh! Well, I think we can find something comfortable for you boys. It’s always good to invest in support at your stage.”
Their stomachs twisted when they realized they didn’t have enough money for what they needed. Maternity bras alone were expensive, and full maternity wardrobes were impossible. Defeated, they left empty-handed, resigning themselves to press on with what little they had. It meant going braless.
At first, they told themselves it wasn’t a big deal. Their pecs had always been firm, and they figured they could manage without support. But as the weeks passed and their tits continued to swell, it became painfully clear that going braless was far from comfortable. Their tits had grown heavy, no longer the toned muscle they once were, but soft and undeniably weighted with milk. They could feel the strain pulling at their shoulders, a dull ache settling into their backs by midday.
Each step sent a faint, uncomfortable bounce through their tits, the motion making their overly sensitive nipples brush against the fabric of their shirts. Without any support, they sagged slightly, pressing into the tops of their bellies, their taut skin feeling every shift as they moved. The growing fullness was impossible to ignore, and even small tasks like reaching for something or bending forward would send a sharp twinge through their sensitive chests. Despite their best efforts to ignore it, the changes in their bodies were undeniable, and with each passing day, the weight and plumpness became impossible to ignore.
Their tits got so full with milk that they had no choice but to massage each other’s sore chests multiple times a day, looking for release. It was the only way to relieve the pressure, especially when their nipples started leaking. They weren’t sure when their bodies had decided to start lactating, but it became an unavoidable part of their daily routine. Their sweatshirts frequently had damp spots from unexpected leaks, and more than once, they had to excuse themselves from class to avoid an embarrassing situation.
Attempts at stuffing their shirts with washrags only made things worse. The damp cloth chilled their already sensitive nipples as the fall air turned colder, and after a particularly bad experience of shivering through an entire class, they abandoned the idea altogether. Instead, they found the most practical solution: simply draining themselves before and after class.
It started as an odd necessity but soon became routine. Every morning and evening, the twins sat together, working methodically to relieve the built-up pressure in their swollen tits. They would sit cross-legged on their beds, their oversized bellies pressing into their laps as they leaned toward each other. With careful, practiced movements, they massaged the fullness of their pecs, kneading the sensitive flesh and coaxing out the milk that had accumulated throughout the day. The sensation was strange, a combination of relief and discomfort, and at first, they could hardly stand how awkward it felt. But as the days passed, they adapted, learning how to squeeze and press to get the milk flowing without making a mess.
More than once, they had to stifle embarrassed groans as the tension eased and the milk spilled out in small streams, soaking through whatever cloth they managed to gather. Their shirts became useless, too tight and too damp, leaving them to sit bare-chested in the privacy of their dorm. The first time it had happened in the middle of class, they had barely managed to rush out in time, their shirts darkening as warm wetness spread across their chests. Since then, they had been diligent, never skipping a session, no matter how exhausted they were.
They had eventually learned the process down to a science—slow, firm squeezes at just the right angle, taking turns helping each other out when one of them struggled to reach. It was an odd, necessary part of their daily lives, and while they loved how it felt, they saw it as the only solution they had without the money for proper pumps. If they didn’t do it, they would be left aching and leaking uncontrollably throughout the day, an outcome they had learned to avoid at all costs. Also, these milking sessions usually led them to more playful ways to empty their tits.
Mark had one day leaned forward as he massaged Kyle’s tits, locking his lips around the engorged nipple and sucking as if his life depended on it, making his twin brother moan loudly as more milk came out than with the simple massage. From that moment, both were inclined to suck on each other’s nipples to help release the tension and get a nutrient-filled meal to help their babies develop big and strong.
“Between my milk and George’s genes, you’ll give birth to little giants,” Kyle would say, loving how Mark’s lips worked on his nipples.
“You seem to love having your own dairy cow to enjoy,” Mark would say later as Kyle sucked and pulled at his nipple to get more milk out.
They struggled with several aspects of the pregnancy, but not everything was bitter. Nate was a rock for them through all of this. He handled their books and groceries, carried their bags when the weight became too much, and generally played the role of their handler. “Babysitter,” the twins affectionately called him, a nickname he begrudgingly accepted.
“I don’t get paid enough for this,” Nate playfully said, kneeling between them as he poured a generous amount of lotion into his hands.
The twins lay sprawled on their beds, bellies bare and glistening under the soft dorm lighting, shifting slightly to get comfortable as Nate’s warm hands pressed against their tight, stretched skin. He worked the lotion in slow, firm circles, his fingers kneading into their lower bellies and then up the sides of their abdomens, smoothing out any tension.
They groaned in relief, heads tipping back against their pillows as the cool lotion soothed their overheated skin. Mark stretched his arms over his head, sighing as Nate’s thumbs pressed just beneath his ribs, while Kyle shivered when Nate’s hands worked lower, spreading the lotion over the underside of his belly where the skin felt most sensitive.
“You’re a miracle worker, dude,” Kyle whispered, grinning lazily and enjoying the massage. “We’ll always tell the babies Uncle Nate is the best.”
Mark smiled, rubbing a hand over his lotioned belly. “Yeah. We should start telling the babies to thank their favorite uncle.”
Kyle joined in, cooing at his swollen belly, “Come on, little guys, say thank you to Uncle Nate for taking care of your daddies.”
Nate groaned, shaking his head as his face turned red. “Or mommies. With those tits, I’m not sure if you fit into the “daddy” territory.”
Mark groaned, and Kyle shivered as Nate massaged down almost to the base of their cocks. They didn’t see Nate with sexual interests because he was their best friend, but they couldn’t deny that their touch made them feel great. However, despite everything—the aches, the exhaustion, the lack of proper clothing—every night, as they lay awake, stroking their bellies, their thoughts drifted back to the man who had started it all. George. They could still feel him—his hands, his warmth, how he made them feel safe and cherished. No matter how much they grew, no matter how much they struggled, they always came back to him in their minds.
Thoughts of George came to them at the most unexpected moments—his deep voice, the warmth of his hands against their skin, the way he had looked at them that night with such intense desire. It made their hearts race and their bodies flush with heat as they recalled every moment spent with him. The pregnancy hormones only amplified their longing, making them feel an ache deeper than just missing him.
Late at night, as they lay in bed, their hands unconsciously rubbed over their swollen bellies, feeling the constant kicks of their babies. The thought that these little lives were growing inside them because of him sent shivers down their spines. Their minds wandered to how George had made them feel—taken care of, adored, but utterly vulnerable. It was a feeling neither of them could shake, and as the nights stretched on, so did their need for him.
They had no other option but to order massive dildos online. They needed something to help them deal with the horniness and the unbelievable need in their holes. They were too big to manage the dildos into their own holes, so they had to help each other. Kyle would lie on his back in bed, legs spread to give his brother access to his eager hole. As the dildo entered him, his hands would move to his belly, caressing it as he imagined George’s hands on his skin.
Mark would go next, getting on his back because his belly was too big to get on all fours. Kyle would push the dildo deep as Mark caressed his own tits, dreaming about George touching them as the huge horse cock stretched him nicely. Both guys loved the dildos, and they helped a lot, but they didn’t feel as fantastic as George’s real cock. Nothing could compare to George’s passion, strength, virility, or girth.
*
As the months passed and the school year started, Mark and Kyle only grew larger. Their abdomens swelled outward, stretching taut and firm, dominating their frames. When they sat down, their bellies spilled forward, reaching past their knees, their shirts hopelessly strained as fabric barely clung to their bodies. Their tits had grown fuller and heavier, their butts rounder and more pronounced, making every step feel like an effort. Even their thighs had thickened, rubbing together with each waddle.
Their reality was setting in, but so was their anxiety. Despite their worries, they missed their dad. There were nights when they wished they could be home with him, especially given their current predicament. But how could they? How could they show up looking like this and drop such a bombshell?
Every other week, their dad, Mike, would call to check in, and every time, they had to come up with new excuses.
“Yeah, Dad, classes are going great!” Mark would say, shifting uncomfortably in bed as he rubbed his massive belly. “We’ve just been so busy studying that we barely have time for anything else.”
“Yeah, midterms really wiped us out, so we’re laying low, you know?” Kyle would say.
Mike would chuckle, oblivious to the truth. “Great, boys! Working hard. Just make sure you’re eating well, alright? Don’t let the stress get to you.” If only he knew.
More than once, the twins debated coming clean. Late at night, their conversations would turn to the inevitable.
“Could we handle being dads?” Mark whispered one evening, lying back against his pillows, hands smoothing over his belly.
Kyle sighed. “I don’t know. It’s not like we had any time to prepare for this.”
Mark turned to face him. “Do we tell George?”
Kyle hesitated. “Do we tell Dad?”
These questions haunted them constantly. They had many discussions with and without Nate about it. Sitting on their beds, hands absentmindedly rubbing their growing abdomens, they weighed their options.
“I think you guys are underestimating your dad,” Nate pointed out one afternoon, lounging in their dorm. “He loves you by the sound of what you’ve told me about him. You really think he’d freak out and leave you guys hanging?”
“We don’t know that,” Mark said, adjusting his tight hoodie.
“We can’t risk it,” Kyle added. “We’ve already come this far without saying anything. What if it’s too much?”
Nate rolled his eyes and playfully smacked Kyle’s rounded butt. “He better support you guys because these pants are getting pretty tired of supporting your fat asses! You need new clothes!” he said, approaching Mark to smack his ass. “And that baby daddy of yours better take care of this because, damn! He got you big.” Mark and Kyle burst out laughing, their worries momentarily forgotten.
*
About a week before Christmas, the twins were simply massive. Their bellies jutted out so far they could barely see past them. Sitting down meant their bellies pressed heavily into their laps, stretching their shirts to the absolute limit. Their tits and butts had filled out so much that they had officially entered “damn!” territory—wider, heavier, and softer in ways that made movement an outright struggle.
Waddling out from their dorm room had become a feat in itself. The doorways felt smaller, the hallways more crowded, and hefting their rounded bodies from building to building had turned into an ordeal. Stairs? A nightmare. Even simple tasks like getting out of bed required a strategic effort. Thankfully, Nate remained their biggest help. He carried their books, held doors for them, and rushed ahead in the lunchroom line to grab their food before they arrived. But even he insisted that they had to face reality.
“You guys have put this off long enough,” Nate said as he helped Mark ease himself into his bed. “You need to talk to your dad, and you need to talk to the father of these babies.”
The twins exchanged nervous glances but knew he was right. Taking a deep breath, they picked up the phone and dialed home.
“Hey, Dad!” Mark said, forcing his voice to sound normal.
“Hey, boys! It’s good to hear from you. What’s up?” Mike responded.
Kyle spoke up. “We wanted to let you know we’re coming home for Christmas.”
There was a pause, a strange hesitation. “Oh,” Mike said finally. “That’s… great.”
The twins frowned. “Dad? Are you okay? You don’t want us coming?” Mark asked.
“Yeah, yeah! Of course! Just—uh, I just realized I haven’t even started shopping for your gifts yet! Guess I better hustle now and get everything ready.” Mike lied.
The excuse felt flimsy, but neither twin pushed it. Instead, they smiled down at their bellies as they closed the call, rubbing them gently.
“I guess it’s time you meet your grandpa,” Kyle whispered, feeling the babies kick in response. “Time to pack our stuff, then.”
Nate, watching them, smirked. “Behave over the holidays. I better see you guys back here in January. Hopefully, without the huge bellies, okay?” He said, and the twins nodded.
**
Meanwhile, back in Georgetown, Mike sighed as he set his phone down. He stood in the dim light of his bedroom, clad in nothing but his underwear, rubbing slow, soothing circles over his enormous belly. He was huge—far bigger than he had ever seen. At almost nine months pregnant with octuplets, his belly was a massive dome, stretching high and heavy over his frame. His tits had filled out, his arms and legs had softened, and even standing for too long made his back ache.
He exhaled deeply, feeling the weight of his pregnancy press down on him. The babies inside him kicked and shifted, reminding him how full he was. He knew he had to tell them—his boys had no idea about his pregnancy. The twins didn’t know that when they came home, they wouldn’t only find their dad but also meet their eight unborn siblings.
Running a hand down the curve of his stomach, he sighed. “Guess it’s time you meet your brothers.”
...
