Getting the Grade Pt. 8

Getting the Grade

Part Eight: The Beginning of the End

Beto had some explaining to do when his parents got home. When they didn't find him in the living room or kitchen, they went upstairs and found him asleep in his room, with his shorts half on, a clean circus tent of a t-shirt folded nicely beside him, and an empty (aside from a few crumbs) plate on his nightstand. Since Beto required help with pretty much everything by then, they wondered how he'd made food, gotten half dressed (or undressed) and also why his room smelled so… manly?

Fortunately for everyone, the Cordova's fecund son thought faster on his swollen feet than he was presently able to move on them. Since his parents didn't ask, he didn't tell them how he'd gotten home or precisely what had happened when he arrived, just said he'd been hungry and made himself a "snack," then he'd come upstairs and had been in the process of changing when…

"I guess I did a lil' too much and fell asleep?" He shrugged, habitually rubbing the sides of his belly now that his dad had helped him sit up on the side of the bed. "But we were all hungry and I didn't wanna keep 'em waiting," he shrugged again, managing to hide the wince he wanted to make as his right hand came in contact with a particularly sore spot on his belly, caused by the frequent abuse he took from his eight inhabitants.

Thinking he'd finally come to terms with his punishment, Beto's mom smiled. To be fair, she hadn't intended it to be this severe and had been worried that because it was, she and her husband's plan might end up backfiring and Beto would go on making bad decisions in the future, but it seemed he'd come around. It'd taken a while but her plan seemed to have worked, or so she thought… Had she known what'd happened on the bed she was sitting on just a couple hours ago, she definitely wouldn't have been smiling or thinking she'd succeeded.

"I know you ate… nine, but why don't I make the rest of the hotdogs for your dinner?" She offered as she ran her hand over Beto's closest bulging side, her fingers tracing over countless stretch marks she felt along with all the grooves, indentations and protrusions caused by and between the small amount of space left between the octuplets.

Beto let out a long, low groan as he shook his head. Unless a craving hit, it was going to be a while before he wanted another hotdog and probably even longer before he'd be able to have one without getting a boner. That being said, he was still hungry…

"How 'bout a couple cheese quesadillas?" He requested instead.

"Just cheese?" His mother frowned. "You need more than that to keep up your strength… Why don't I add some of the steak leftover from last night?"

Since steak didn't turn him on the way hotdogs now did, the fecund teen agreed with a nod. "Sounds good."

"Your dad and I'll help you… finish getting dressed, then I'll go make them," she said as she stood.

Once he was back on his swollen feet and as fully clothed as he could be (a huge swath of his lower belly left exposed,) Beto shooed his mom from the room, feigning hunger. His parents had seen plenty of him by then, way more than they had since he'd been a child, thanks to all the help he now needed. While he'd lost most of his dignity, Beto couldn't bring himself to let his mother see or know about the plug though… As such, once it was just the two of them, he told his dad about it, only because he had no other choice.

The senior Cordova repeatedly nodded and gulped before eventually clearing his throat and saying, "Yeah… I wondered if they um, you know…"

"That they have," Beto sighed as he yet again silently wondered if despite its frequency and intensity, all the state's "prepping" would end up being enough? "So, I guess we should, uh, you know…"

"Right," his dad replied less than enthusiastically as he nodded towards the bathroom. "Lead the way."

After waddling in, the teen pulled down the back of his shorts again just enough, then leaned forward what little he could in front of the sink, bracing himself on the counter with his elbows and forearms. He and his dad were both extra mindful not to make eye contact in the mirror as he gave a slight push, further expelling the end of the plug. As soon as Beto's dad had a good but reluctant grip on its warm base, he quickly and firmly yanked the plug out, the deft maneuver causing his son to gasp and groan.

"Why is it all creamy, mijo?" He asked, frowning again as he held the plug up for brief inspection before carefully setting it down on the counter beside the sink.

"Um…" Beto said as he cautiously straightened himself back up. He'd forgotten till then that Juan and Victor had left their "juices marinating" inside him but was once again able to come up with a quick explanation, even if it wasn't true. "I forget what it's called but my teacher said it's normal when you get close to giving birth."

The elder Cordova nodded as he held the hand he'd used to remove the plug carefully out to his side, away from the rest of him as he waited for his hugely pregnant son to totter out of his way so he could thoroughly wash his hands. While he wasn't actually interested, he was glad to hear Beto's body was indicating it was ready to give birth soon because he couldn't believe anyone, let alone his son, could be so pregnant…

Forcing Beto to carry had been his wife's idea. Before even knowing to consider the possibility their son might have multiples (let alone so many,) he'd thought the idea a bit extreme, but went along with it anyway. Had he known Beto would end up having to use a butt plug, would end up carrying eight babies, or about the "ick" factor the record-breaking pregnancy would bring along with it, he would've insisted they come up with something else… Obviously, their intention had been to teach Beto a lesson he'd never forget, but to be clear and fair, neither parent had intended to turn their son into a freak of nature, just make him endure several uncomfortable and embarrassing months so he'd realize what sexually deviant behavior could potentially lead to if he wasn't careful.

The last few months, when Beto started getting really big, his dad was forced not only to see more of him than he thought he'd ever had to again, but in ways he'd never previously considered… Mr. Cordova was a man's man, and a proud one at that, who'd struggled to accept the fact he had a gay son but had eventually, relatively come to terms with it, but to see him like this..?

Over the course of the punishment he'd consented to, he'd learned more about male pregnancy than he wanted (or needed) to, all while being as uninvolved as possible. Beto was being taught a lesson after all, even if it ended up being a far more severe one than intended. But to their credit (what little they deserved,) the teen's parents did "help" when they had to (or really wanted to stress their point.)

That being said, Beto hadn't gotten the help or support some teens are fortunate to get when they find themselves unexpectedly pregnant at such a young age… The "help" he got ended up being of a very different (and far more embarrassing) nature, so yeah… His parents' plan had backfired (more than) a bit on all of them, and they only had themselves to blame for their own poor decision.

As much as he didn't want to, Beto's dad kept eyeing the "creamy" plug as he dried his hands. "You're gonna clean that… thing off before it goes back in, right?" He asked.

"Yes, Dad…" his incredibly pregnant son replied with a roll of his eyes, the heels of his hands pressing hard into his sore, spreading hips as he waited to have the bathroom to himself so he could actually use it.

"Good. Wouldn't want you or the babies getting sick.

'Oh, so NOW he's worried…' Beto thought to himself. 'How fucking considerate!"

"So are we good..? You don't need any more help, do you..?"

Apparently, his dad wasn't so worried after all..? How the man who'd dealt with an expectant woman three times before didn't realize his expectant son was obviously going to need some more help, Beto had no idea but honestly, didn't even care by then…

He'd only attempted putting the plug back in himself a few times, each of which had been monumental undertakings and now, maybe not even possible?! His dad didn't know or care to know this though, and admitting it seemed a step too far for both of them (even now,) so Beto shook his head as he replied,

"I can manage from here. It'll just be a minute or twenty before I make it downstairs, so tell Mom to take her time with the quesadillas."

Upon hearing his son had it from there, Beto's dad was seriously tempted to run out of the bathroom but managed to refrain, though he did hurry out… He nodded again as he waved over his shoulder before closing the door behind him.

As soon as Beto was alone (relatively, anyway,) he let his head fall back and he sighed as he stared blankly up at the ceiling for several seconds. Sometimes (usually when things somehow became even more embarrassing or ridiculous than they already were,) despite having long since come to "accept" his fate, the eighteen year old still couldn't believe that this was his life. It was though, "Thanks" to his Mom and Dad…

With a cacophony of grunts and groans, all of which made him sound a lot older than he was, Beto started slowly lowering himself onto the toilet before quickly giving in to gravity and discomfort and just dropping heavily down the rest of the way. His ginormous pregnancy pushed his proportionately ginormous breasts up to his chin, nearly swallowing it as the weight of it almost immediately caused the tops of his thighs to go numb.

As he not only did his business, but rid himself of the "contributions" Victor and Juan had left behind, Beto sent God a silent prayer. The stupidly pregnant teen highly doubted it would have any effect, but he prayed he'd soon go back to just being a stupid teen 'cause needless to say, he was so over being so pregnant. Everything he now did took more time than it previously did and going to the bathroom (with or without a couple loads in him) proved no exception…

Even when he really needed to go, his flow had most of the time been reduced to a trickle, all his internal bits and parts having been squished, cramped and reduced to basically an afterthought in order to continually accommodate the eight babies he carried. Again, even though he didn't like or want to think about it, Beto couldn't stop from thinking about and wondering what his labor and deliveries was/were going to be like?

Yes, he'd inadvertently seen/participated in two, but his was surely going to be different. That's what Beto kept telling himself anyway, even as he continually wondered and worried… At least he wasn't going to be drugged like Seamus had been! Massive of a target as he was (and kept becoming,) he'd managed to dodge that bullet and surely, Ms. Murphy wouldn't have the nerve to take another shot at him, right..?

By default (and most certainly not desire,) Beto's experience was more than likely going to be more like Austin's but ideally, a less public affair… Whether he wanted one or not (and like so much else related to his surrogacy, he most certainly did not,) he knew he was going to have an audience. How large it was and how well he "performed" in front of it, were the variables…

For as much as he'd been "prepared" by Ms. Murphy and the state physically, aside from the stretching and the pushing and breathing techniques he'd been taught to use during it, the whole labor and delivery process hadn't ever really been discussed. Seeing as his pregnancy had turned out to be anything but, Beto knew better than to expect his time in the stirrups (presuming he made it there) to be anything close to typical… Without an inkling of a doubt, it was going to be a spectacle.

While he was pretty much left to guess, pregnant with octuplets and having never given birth before, Beto assumed he and they would be attended to by a slew of doctors and nurses (even if the same couldn't be said for some of his classmates.) This assumption made him slightly less apprehensive, but also meant there'd be a lot of people there while he slowly and more than likely, painfully "deflated" from his current baby blimp status.

On the subject of people being there while he gave birth, there were Beto's parents… Since they'd only been as involved in the process they'd forced him to endure as much as they absolutely had to, he was surprised when they offered to be there with him. Somewhat more surprising was the fact they'd offered, versus telling him they were going to be there, leaving him to correctly assume they didn't actually want to be, but would if he so chose. How considerate…

They'd brought the matter up over dinner some weeks back, back when pretty much everyone (except Ms. Murphy) expected him to go into labor any day. Obviously, that hadn't happened and now, even though it was a safe bet Beto could go into labor any second, he'd yet to give his parents an answer, nor had they pressed for one. Honestly, it was an unexpectedly difficult decision for the teen to make…

Having been through so much already, there were thankfully, very few things Beto could think of that would be able to cause him further embarrassment. One of the few was his parents being there, watching and "supporting" him as he pushed eight big babies out of his hopefully by then, stretched and dilated enough ass. On the other hand, despite the large audience his finally giving birth was bound to draw, Beto reasoned he'd need all the support he could get, leaving just his parents to choose from.

Seamus would've been a much better choice, but the redhead remained on new big brother duty twenty-four/seven, making it unlikely he'd be able to be there. Between having personally delivered his not so little, little brother and their special friendship, Beto knew Seamus would feel bad not being able to return the favor as a supportive birth partner, so he hadn't bothered to ask. Not that he expected much from them, but if he wanted someone on his team with him, Beto's parents were his only readily available option.

He somehow continued to remain pregnant. Every day, he moved a little slower and more ponderously than the one before, but kept going to school. While Beto had already passed all his other classes, Ms. Murphy refused to give him his SLS final exam early, so he had to keep showing up if he wanted to officially graduate. He at least didn't have to waddle between classes anymore, but whenever Beto entered or exited the SLS classroom, needless to say, he attracted a lot of attention…

Everyone went on high alert as he entered truly uncharted territory. Much like his tremendous and still growing belly made him feel, Beto quickly felt smothered by the constant attention. He was never left alone at school and hardly even at home, only ever really having time to himself when he was using the bathroom or trying to sleep.

Beto was a waddling, ticking time bomb/"miracle," not to mention an absolute freak show by then, but another slight improvement to his situation was that he didn't have to take the bus anymore…

Now, one of his parents drove him to and from school. This was much more convenient and subjected him to slightly fewer stares and comments from other students, but it wasn't comfortable as he had to cram himself into the backseat of his parents' cars as he could no longer fit in the front of either.

Given his luck, Beto was and wasn't shocked he was still pregnant… He was now closing in on forty-three weeks and thought for sure by then that he and the babies couldn't possibly get any bigger, but they all just kept growing. He was huge.

So huge that even back at his biggest, Austin would've looked almost normal standing next to him now! On the matter of standing, Beto did as little of it as he could, now almost always pinned to an extra wide and sturdy chair (even by SLS standards) if he wasn't lying down in bed. He'd even come to consider his daily, state-mandated "fuckings" a relief as they allowed him time to lay back and "relax" as much as he could (which wasn't much at all) with his giant pregnant pressing and pinning him to the table it now took three people plus himself to get him on.

Massive as he was (and because of it,) Beto continued to eat like crazy. Even though he only moved as much as was absolutely necessarily now, being so massively pregnant required a proportionately massive amount of energy. As such, he was always shoving something down his throat, into his cramped yet still bottomless pit of a stomach (though he'd yet to give hotdogs another try.)

Along with his throat and mouth, Beto's chest was kept quite busy too; more than ever, in fact… While he'd long since (far) surpassed the amount of milk the doctor wanted him capable of producing should any (or all) of the octuplets' biological parents chose to use him for his feeding services as well, between the two of them, he and crazy Ms. Murphy had managed to really send the surrogate's milk production into overdrive.

This further bloated and engorged his already huge breasts to the point his parents were forced to get him a few more even bigger bras. They'd had to pay out the ass to custom and rush order them (which served them right!) even though their son was almost constantly surrounded by countless hungry babies he was now all too happy to feed, just so he could be somewhat less bloated… With Seamus out on leave and the both of them too big, busy or tired to see each other, feeding his classmates babies or siblings was the only form of relief Beto's chest got. He'd come to appreciate it, but in a very different manner from when Seamus had been around to feed from him.

The friends texted often, including sending one another pictures of their changing bodies. The images they shared weren't sexual in nature, Seamus too dazed and tired to put in the effort, Beto too whalish and nervous about what his parents might do if they stole his phone again, to take or send anything risqué. Upon receiving the latest image from the redhead, the still pregnant teen became instantly jealous of how quickly he'd lost his huge (in its own regard, anyway) baby belly…

Had it not been for Seamus' (only slightly when compared to his own) engorged chest, and the fact he'd been there for all of it, including its quick and traumatic conclusion, Beto wouldn't have believed he'd given birth less than a month ago! Signs of the belly his large, little brother had caused him to grow were already almost entirely gone, including all the stretch marks.

This gave the octuplet carrier the faintest glimmer of hope for his own recovery, but only for all of about two seconds before he remembered (not that he'd ever forgotten) that he looked and felt like he should've given birth months ago… Beto's belly was now so massive, it looked (and sure as shit felt) like he was lugging around a full-grown man inside of it!

Even though it seemed like it was never going to end, the eighteen year old knew he wouldn't be pregnant forever… Now that it was only a matter of time till he wasn't, Beto was especially annoyed that Ms. Murphy kept pushing back his final. Any time he brought it up, she got dismissive and simply said it would happen when it happened. Not that having octuplets hadn't already done so for him, but Beto wanted to be certain he got a good grade in SLS, so his chance to get the hell away from his parents and back to a life reminiscent of normal in college, wouldn't also get messed up the way so much else had.

Returning to a normal life was pretty much the only thing keeping him sane and going, though "normal" might not've been the best way to describe what he hoped for himself in the future… Beto knew better than to expect his now ruined body to return to its former glory anytime soon, if ever, the way Seamus' had/was, the lucky bastard!

Even once he was no longer obscenely expectant, Beto would still have his monstrous, milk-filled tits to contend with for the foreseeable future, not to mention the rest of him… Really, all that was left for the currently massive teen to do was hope and pray that being a teen might mean his body's recovery would go better than he now expected it to.

There was no denying Seamus had gotten pretty big for someone his (pre-pregnancy) size only having one baby, but Beto was having eight, was way overdue, and still growing! He had (and continued) to stretch and stretch, and had gained so much that even without being occupied by octuplets, and even if and when he stopped eating like a fucking horse, he was definitely going to be left with a belly. A big, flabby, saggy one, similar to (but larger) than the one Austin had been left with and was still working to shed.

Since all that couldn't be bad enough, there was more… Beto hated thinking about the condition his poor, technically still nearly virgin asshole was going to be left in after giving birth. Having only ever taken two cocks, he'd barely gotten the chance to put it to actual use but soon, would probably be able to take any cock (or a damn table leg for that matter!) with disturbing ease! It wasn't fair to say the least, and neither were the stretch marks…

Beto was covered with miles of them. His veritable highway wouldn't be able to be repaired with even all the most expensive creams in the world (not that he could afford them,) so no, he didn't have high hopes for his physical recovery after all. Aside from his ass and legs getting thicker, and his arms adding some mass from hauling around his oversized load, pregnancy hadn't done him any favors.

Except for Seamus (who'd made a promise,) possibly Victor and Juan (probably only if he agreed to carry for them,) or some weirdo with a post mega-pregnancy fetish, Beto highly doubted anyone would want to be with him once he was left all stretched out, flabby and saggy, just when his sex life should've really been getting underway. Just fucking wonderful… Their intention may've been to teach him a lesson he'd never forget, but to be fair, even Beto doubted his parents had meant his punishment to be this extreme or long-lasting. There was no denying they were pretty shitty, but they weren't monsters…

Given the intense attention she paid him, Beto should've been more surprised when Ms. Murphy was absent from class the day he hit forty-three weeks. He probably would've been had he not been so busy trying to catch his breath after having barely extracted himself and his brood from the back of his mom's Camry, and then making his long, ponderous waddle to the SLS classroom.

The same sub as last time was covering for her. He was busy playing with his phone behind Ms. Murphy's desk till something told him to look up and he saw Beto. Once again, his eyes got huge as they took in the sight before him… Whether or not he recognized Beto as the same "biggest" person before or he was just so shocked to see someone so enormous, remained unknown as the substitute remained silent as he stared for several seconds.

When he eventually looked back down at his phone, he did so quickly, seemingly scared to look at the fecund teen a moment longer, silently fearing that doing so might cause the most pregnant person he'd ever seen to pop right then and there. If he actually had, Beto would've thanked him.

The teen had no sooner caught his breath when he suddenly needed to pee again despite having gone just before he left home. With the help of three 261s (whose babies he promised to feed first,) he got back on his aching, swollen feet, got his balance and then slowly tottered towards the bathroom, once more drawing the horrified sub's attention. With Murphy absent, Beto didn't have the stretcher in, not that it mattered since he didn't have to shit at the moment, but he was still glad for the reprieve, which would last till it came time for his daily fucking, after which the plug would surely be inserted by the worker who'd done the deed. Hooray.

Some fifteen minutes later, as he was making his way back from the bathroom, the enormous surrogate stopped at his class box, in which he found a note from Ms. Murphy, which read: Beto- I'll be coming in to give you your final exam after school today. See you then.

Already ready to go home, he wasn't happy knowing he had to stay late, but Beto was happy he'd finally be getting his last exam over and done with. Like so much else related to his weirdo of a teacher and his (more than) unusual pregnancy, Beto didn't know much about what the test would entail but he didn't care because as soon as he finished it, he was going to go home and stay there till he gave birth (if he ever fucking did?!) no matter what anyone had to say about it.

He sent his parents a message letting them know he had to stay late and that he'd text again when he needed to be picked up. Once more focused on trying not to pass out from lack of breath, Beto didn't think anything of it when neither of them responded, other than to assume they were busy at work.

Even for him and what little he could or wanted to do, the day was painfully uneventful without Ms. Murphy there. She'd left a lesson plan for the sub but unsurprisingly, he ignored it. After taking attendance, he spent pretty much the rest of the day playing around on his phone, letting the class do whatever they wanted. Between diaper changes and burping, that mostly consisted of them sitting around talking, eating and feeding, Beto doing a lot of both of the latter.

He truly hated himself for doing so, but he couldn't stop eating. He had to… Fortunately, his classmates were sympathetic and made runs either to the cafeteria or the kitchen in the SLS classroom to keep him satiated. Beto ate almost continuously, when he was feeding and when he wasn't. He kept count of how many babies (their siblings/carriers assuming burping duty when the time came since he was too big to do so effectively anymore,) till he got to eight. Whatever his total ended up being, Beto's chest remained engorged but at least not painfully so.

Shortly after lunch, another three of the octuplet-carrier's more mobile classmates helped him to the bathroom, two of them each taking a bulging side, the third taking up the rear to help keep him moving forward. Yes, it'd come to that by then… Given all the food Beto had consumed over the first half of the day, he should've been ready to shit his brains out, but being as pregnant as he was left little to go to actual waste. With his state-mandated daily dose of dildo up next, it was important he be as clean and empty as possible, so off to the bathroom and back onto the toilet he went yet again…

When the time came for his "appointment," Beto was once again unceremoniously stripped and helped onto the table. Its stirrups had to be moved a notch wider than the day before and still now just barely accommodated his belly… The (extra) forced spreading of his hips, coupled with the immense weight piled atop him, made Beto look and feel like an enormous Thanksgiving turkey, ready to be carved into. On the subject of being carved into, he would've consented to having a c-section right then if he could've, but that delivery option was being reserved as the very last resort.

Aside from having to spread his legs and the stirrups wider, it was quickly apparent things were going to be different this afternoon… For some reason, the state did an extra thorough job on his hole, working it longer and harder than usual. While he couldn't see and didn't ask, Beto swore the dildo felt bigger than the last time, both longer and thicker. The worker manipulating him went at him so hard, she caused his breasts and belly to wobble and heave about atop him, riling all the babies up, which constantly forced what little air he'd managed to work into them, out of his cramped lungs.

Beto didn't have the breath to complain about his rougher than usual treatment so needless to say, he was glad when the dildo was removed from his throbbing hole and let out a sigh of relief. He wasn't surprised when his relief turned out to be short lived…

Even though the extra thorough treatment with the sex toy had definitely loosened him up even more, there wasn't an ounce of doubt in the teen surrogate's mind that the butt plug now slowly being shoved into him was bigger than the last. Way bigger… All Beto could do was grunt and groan as more and more silicone entered him, forcing his hole to maintain its yet again, newly increased circumference. Beto had been under the impression he'd already reached his "goal" in regards to the amount of stretching he had to do, but apparently not. It belatedly hit him just how big the babies he was carrying were.

He may've looked like a massive, Thanksgiving turkey pinned to the table, with his legs spread a little further apart than they were meant to go, but he sounded like some livestock giving birth as he was impaled. Beto huffed, puffed and sweated profusely, truly feeling like he was about to explode as he anxiously rubbed what he could reach of his tense, action-packed (and packed in general) belly. He was sure that if his hole hadn't already suffered permanent damage disfigurement being worked to the point it had been, it'd just crossed that immensely painful bridge, making him all the more worried about what naturally giving birth to eight babies in a row was going to be like?

Not that he hadn't already, but once Beto was back on his feet, he really felt the new stretcher. It was enormous. It felt like the widest point of a twelve pound bowling ball was wedged in his hole. For obvious reasons, his mobility had already become an issue and the new stretcher took him over the finish line to immobility, at least temporarily…

"Backup" in the form of two classmates had to be called in order to get him dressed, as Beto could barely lift his legs he felt so stuffed. He was truly scared to take his hand off the table he was bracing against for fear he'd topple over or his legs would give out. His final exam couldn't come soon enough.

An enormous wheelchair was brought in from somewhere to take him back to the main room. Big as it was, the eighteen year old was bigger, his pregnancy barely fitting between the arms of the chair that were otherwise so far apart, it took his two classmates to push it. Back in the main room, they offered to help Beto to a stationary chair, but he opted to stay in the wheeled one for the time being as he tried to think about anything but the massive stretcher keeping him wide open.

Since the octuplets were still all riled up from the intense dildo session, Beto's hands were naturally drawn to his belly. Hell, they would've been even if the babies hadn't been all worked up, his pregnancy pretty much magnetic by then… His touch did nothing to calm his occupants and he continually grunted and winced, each movement they made causing him additional discomfort, especially now that he was literally so stuffed.

A 261 who tended to keep to himself tentatively approached, a wailing little sister he'd given birth to some ten months prior in each arm. Sheepishly, he asked Beto if he wouldn't mind feeding one while he changed the other as even almost a year into his big brother role, he was still mastering the art of dealing with his two siblings at the same time. Somehow, Beto's breasts already felt borderline uncomfortably full again, so he readily agreed with a nod. He took his hands from his belly and reached out for the baby, only to remember he could no longer reach beyond his monstrous middle, his reach further diminished with his pregnancy confined between the arms of the wheelchair, pushing it further forward as it rested oh so heavily on his lap.

The 261 frowned. "Oh…"

"Sorry," Beto apologized. "I'd be happy to help. Kinda need to," he added as he looked down at and nodded at his tits. "But…"

"Yeah, I see. I don't even know where I'd put her? How you'd hold her?"

"Right?"

Sitting as close to totally upright as he now could, Beto simply had too much belly and not enough reach to hold even one more baby. Granted, said baby was approaching toddler size and age, but still… On his lap, his pregnancy had nowhere to go but up and out (mostly up though, thanks to his thighs,) pushing his huge yet still incredibly perky tits up even higher than he usually carried them.

Beto didn't want to move. He didn't want to do anything, but he needed to have his bloated tits drained again. "If you gimme a few minutes, I'll…" he began to offer.

"That's alright," the 261 shook his head. "I shouldn't have asked. Really. You're…" he paused for a moment, eyeing Beto both sympathetically and in relief before continuing, "You've got a lot going on right now, so I'll just ask someone else. Good, um… luck with everything," he said with a small smile as he turned and headed off to seek assistance elsewhere, both of his sisters still wailing, desperate for the additional attention he was obviously struggling to provide.

"Thanks…" Beto muttered back before taking in as deep a breath as he could while placing his hands on the wheelchair's armrests in preparation of trying to adjust himself.

Even though he barely moved, the butt plug sure did, somehow feeling like it was filling him even more. So much for not thinking about it…

Nearly an hour later, he was still pinned to the wheelchair, generally more uncomfortable than ever, though at least his hole wasn't aching so much anymore. Now, his back was instead… Crushed beneath his own belly (though could he really call it his own, anymore?) Beto's legs had long since gone numb. He wanted to spread them but didn't have the space or motivation to move. He got the latter not long after when the room suddenly filled with babies' cries, all eager for their mid-afternoon feedings.

There were always at least a few babies crying, but around feeding and "snack" times, the volume increased exponentially, just about everyone getting in on the action. Once again, the noise triggered Beto's already primed nipples, quickly causing them to steadily leak.

Even though his newest bras accommodated him well and comfortably enough, his pregnancy was now so big his tits hardly needed the support, so he hadn't bothered putting a bra on that morning. In a matter of seconds, Beto had soaked through his shirt, which was the push he needed to make the transition from the wheelchair to a stationary feeding one, in which he'd be more reclined and less constrained, allowing him to relieve the pressure ramping up in his leaky breasts.

It took four guys to help him up and over to the closest chair, the sub watching intently but of course not offering to help. Beto had spent a lot of time in this and similar chairs over the past few months as they were designed for someone carrying. Someone with a belly and breasts, all of which needed space, but not exactly designed with someone like him in mind (not that anything was.)

During the transition, the plug made itself well-known again, causing great discomfort and for Beto's cock to become rock hard due to all the pressure it put on his prostate. He felt like he was perpetually taking the biggest shit of his life, his poor hole filled to what surely had to be the absolute brim yet somehow, still felt open, which made no sense and wasn't enjoyable in the least.

In exchange for his classmates' assistance, the octuplet-carrying teen promised to feed their babies first. Just before sitting and reclining back on the chair he now genuinely worried would be able to support him, Beto rolled his shirt up to under his chin, exposing his massive, milk-filled mounds and big, weeping nipples. Once he was in position, he spread his legs so his thighs weren't entirely squished, and finally got some feeling back in them. After giving the nod he was ready, a baby was placed in the crook of each arm, their former carrier guiding their hungry mouths to the massive nipple they'd been assigned by default.

In his time since joining SLS, even Beto had come to have to admit babies were cute and all. After having seen, changed and fed so many though, he'd stopped worrying about learning or keeping up with names and ages, so he had no idea who he was presently feeding, but was grateful for their greedy little mouths as they plugged away at his endless milk reserves. As he sat/lay there, stuck in another chair (hopefully for the rest of the day,) Beto wondered how long it was going to take for his flow to stop once it was no longer needed (and when that would end up being?)

Since everyone was either pregnant or presently had any number of children in their external care (along with all their "accessories,") almost everyone but the octuplet-carrier started packing up for the day some twenty minutes before the final bell. The babies he was feeding at the time were taken from him, he was thanked, and then otherwise ignored as everyone scurried about to make their buses or just get the hell outta there in general. With his final to take, Beto wasn't in his usual "rush," not that he could've been in one even if he wanted…

With his shirt rolled up and his boobs and belly all out on full display once again now that he didn't have babies at least partially covering him, Beto didn't attract the attention he was used to as everyone rushed out of the classroom. No one checked on him or asked if he needed any help this time, too focused on their own present missions. When the bell finally rang, the sub left the room after giving Beto a final once over. He'd yet to see Ms. Murphy but didn't worry, knowing she'd come find him as soon as she arrived.

So Beto waited. What else was he going to do? He closed his eyes and dozed a bit, only to wake himself a few minutes later with an embarrassingly loud snort. He'd started snoring over the last few months, sometimes (like now) so bad that he woke himself up, so he couldn't wait to go back to not doing so.

After blinking a few times, he looked around the classroom and saw he'd been left entirely alone. Or so he thought, till he suddenly heard Ms. Murphy's distinct voice from close behind…

"I apologize for keeping you waiting, Beto," she said, still from behind him. "But I had to give everyone time to leave. Now they have," she informed, her tone slightly different from her usual but Beto couldn't place exactly how just yet.

"So it's just you and me?" He asked as he turned to look over his left shoulder, still not seeing her.

"Pretty much," Murphy replied.

Beto grunted. "You realize it's gon' take more than the two of us to get me off this chair, right?"

"Don't worry about that."

"Oh no?" He huffed. "What, am I gonna take my final here?"

"No, of course not!"

"Well then…"

"I said, don't worry about it!" Ms. Murphy replied, her exasperation apparent, if only for just a second.

"Whatever…" Beto rolled his eyes, even though his weird teacher couldn't see him do so. On that matter, he asked her, "Why are you standing behind me..?"

"It's my classroom, isn't it?"

"Yeah…" he nodded. "But it's weird!"

"Excuse you..?"

Beto didn't apologize. He had no reason to. Aside from that, he realized something was off, even when compared to his usual unusual dealings with Ms. Murphy. He'd never cared about the rule till now (not that he'd ever needed to before) but now he referenced it. "We may be in your classroom, but I guess I need to remind you that school policy says that a student and a teacher should never be alone together…"

"If anyone knows school policy, it's me!" Murphy replied with a huff of her own. "And watch your tone, Mr. Cordova!"

Mr. Cordova did not. He continued in the same manner. "If you know school policy so well, then how can you say…"

"Because we're not alone!" She shouted. "Plain and simple!"

"Um, yeah we are!" Beto shouted back as he turned to look over his other shoulder to see if he could see Murphy from that direction, but couldn't. "So how is that plain and…"

"Your babies are here with us, aren't they?"

"You know they ain't mine!" He needlessly reminded.

"Which doesn't matter. They're still here, so technically, we're not alone, are we?"

"No, not technically," he admitted. "But like you said, it don't matter. What does is that you're makin' me uncomfortable… I…"

Ms. Murphy cut him off with a laugh. A big, loud, almost maniacal sounding one. "Oh, Beto…" she chuckled as she finally started stepping around him. "If you think you're uncomfortable now, you've got another thing coming!"

"What the…" Beto began to question but then stopped when his crazy teacher proved herself to be more crazy than ever as she came into view and he saw what she was wearing…

She had on scrubs. The kind a doctor or nurse would be wearing while they were delivering a baby, or in his case, eight of them. Beto's teacher, Ms. Murphy was neither a doctor nor nurse, nor were there any present. This was not good…

Mustering all the energy he could, he tried to get off the chair. Within a matter of seconds, he hadn't made any progress other than to wind up gasping and panting and still pinned in place. Murphy looked down at him, her eyes narrowing as her smile grew.

"You were right…" she said.

"Ab… about wh… what?" Beto asked, voice shaking.

"About getting you outta that chair," Murphy replied, continuing to smile. "It's gonna take more than you and me, so…"

"HELP!!!" Beto suddenly screamed at the top of his lungs as he looked around in panic. "SOMEONE HELP ME!!!"

"No one's here to hear or help you, Beto," Murphy slowly shook her head. "Except for me," she said as she reached into the left pocket of her scrub bottoms and pulled out a syringe.

"HELP!!!" Beto screamed again, his voice breaking as he tried to make it even louder. "HEL…"

That was the last he got out before he felt a sharp jab in the side of his neck and quickly slipped away.