Slime, Part 4

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Summary: Eve finds herself pregnant with a strange, alien slime, and starts giving birth to slime babies. Contains: Female: belly expansion, breast expansion, butt expansion, alien impregnation, unbirthing, and more.

Previous Chapter

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Eve looked heavily pregnant, perhaps overdue.

And now she had a…a…

It was still throbbing and growing, every twitch nearly incapacitating. It left her groaning and unconsciously bucking at times. She was breathless and sweaty, her loins sleek, as well as the…the protrusion.

It was long and thick, and reminded her of a dildo in the way that it filled her opening. It was phallic, and though it invaded her, as with the slime on her belly, she could experience sensation just by touching it. It was so sensitive. The faintest stroke would leave her shivering as she choked out a sob.

She could not remove it and any effort made her feel like her legs were going to collapse beneath her. It was too sensitive to grip with any real zeal. So the slime-shaft was left to awkwardly protrude from her groin, where it remained thick and hard, and actually throbbed within her. She could somehow sense that it was steadily growing. She found herself groaning at the pressure of it, absently rocking against it, her slime-belly bobbing, slime-breasts jiggling with this unpleasant squelching noise as the mounds wobbled on her chest.

She spent a lot of time in bed, groaning, shifting and squirming, dealing with the relentless occupation. She would quietly plead with the slime, but it, as usual, did not answer to her. It took her a full day to even attempt to get up, and another to feel up to going back to work.

The stimulation had mitigated, if just slightly enough to squeeze into a pair of pants. The bulge was unsightly, and her pants couldn’t even button because of the bulk of her slime-belly. She put on a skirt instead, even though skirts were typically discouraged at the lab. She pulled on another of her ex’s T-shirts, which stretched tightly against her slime-belly.

Eve pulled a lab coat around her shoulders, resolving herself to ordering a new outfit for the time being because the slime was acting up—and this certainly couldn’t be permanent.

She waddled under the heavy weight of the slime, her movements further impeded by the stiff shaft determined to bulge against the material of her skirt. When she got in to work, there were blatant stares now. Eve tried her best to ignore them, and to focus on observing the tests. She needed to get as much information about the slime as possible if she had any hope of resolving her predicament.

She tried not to panic and took frequent bathroom breaks when she felt herself getting too hot or tremulous. At first she would just splash her face with some cool water, but by midday, she had descended to stroking herself—well, stroking the slime protrusion in her groin. She would press her lips to muffle her groans as she ran her fingers up and down the sleek shaft, all the while feeling it throb, thick and deep, in her tightly-stretched opening that in turn twitched and clenched it harder.

There was a light tapping on the stall door. “Eve, you okay in there?”

Eve gasped for breath, leaning heavily on the wall of the stall. She watched her translucent green belly jiggle slightly as it heaved up and down with the force of her breathing. “Yeah,” she managed, as she struggled to gather her composure. Of course her more intrusive colleague Janet would come to check on her.

“We need the analysis back on those samples. When you have the time?” said Janet uncertainly.

“Yes, of course,” Eve managed, trying to pull up her skirt, while wondering how long she had been in the lavatory this time around. She opened the stall door, knowing that she must have looked sweaty and flustered. She waddled over to the sink, Janet giving her concerned looks as she did.

“You’re sure you’re okay? God, you really started showing late. I didn’t even know. You’re not in labor, are you?”

“What? No. I—I’m fine ,Janet,” said Eve as she washed her hands.

“You sure?”

Growing impatient, Eve elected not to respond. Instead she hastily dried her hands off with some paper towel. Resisting the strange urge to cup the underside of her belly, she wadded back into the lab.

The hours dragged by at a sluggish pace. Eve’s back was stinging, her—her slime nipples ached somehow. Her skirt felt uncomfortably tight, and she was almost painfully aroused. It was a struggle to keep the shaft concealed, hard and persistent as it was about pushing out. She was doubtful she was doing a very good job of hiding it, but half of the time she was too frazzled to notice.

She finally decided to leave, two hours early, when she could no longer handle the conflicting sensations of discomfort and arousal, feeling on the cusp of another shuddering orgasm with every small move she made.

Eve took one more bathroom stop, after lasting nearly a whole hour without one. She took to beating the shaft vigorously, groaning and shuddering as she gripped the wall with her spare hand. It was definitely longer, and was taking up more space between her fingers that enclosed it. She could feel it filling her more, squeezing so tightly in her opening that she ached against it. The shaft seemed to be changing shape as well, more phallic, forming a vague head at the tip. She twisted against it, trying to ride it, realizing that she was deriving pleasure from two different sensations, that of massaging the shaft, and that of the shaft occupying her opening.

She moaned and arched, her knees shuddering before she sank into the wall to stay balanced. “Ohh…ohhhh…” she whined as her nipples burned. Her top was already drawn over her belly, but she raised it more, over her breasts, which were large and swollen, and feeling terribly bloated. The slime-nipples had turned a dark green hue, not light and transparent like the rest of the slime. They visibly contracted, causing Eve to whimper. And then both began to…drip a white fluid.

Eve blinked and looked down at herself. “What?” she murmured aloud, feeling dazed; horrified. The slime-nipples were producing—it didn’t make sense, but they were producing milk. And she could feel it. The contractions of the nipples, the achiness of the breasts, and the sensation of warm milk as it slowly slid in two trails down the underside of each mound of flesh.

The slime was lactating.

She was lactating.

In panic, Eve jerked down her shirt, but now the fluid just seeped into the material, not entirely white as she had first thought, but a pale green color. She felt a twinge in her nipples and shuddered. “Fuh-fuck,” she breathed, pulling on her too-small lab coat, trying to cover her breasts with crossed arms.

Eve walked out of the bathroom and made her exit, even going as far as ignoring her boss who called her name a few times, trying to get her attention. It was blatant insubordination, but she was in a desperate situation. The decontamination process was mortifying, the overseeing scientists staring in astonishment from her belly to her breasts, then the growing patches of moisture in her shirt.

Finally, Eve got out of there. It was a relief to settle into her car, even as awkwardly cramped as the driver’s seat was getting. Her acute panic finally began to ease away, in its place, other, more neglected needs.

As she sped back towards her home, she was consumed by a powerful feeling of hunger. Her eating schedule had been erratic, at best. Knowing that she was not likely to try to prepare something at home in her present state, Eve turned onto the drive-through of the local fast food chain.

She tried to ignore the way the shaft squished between the underside of her belly and her thighs. Adjusting and fidgeting made driving awkward, so she just resolved to endure it, at least until she got home.

“Hello, can I have thr—four number sevens,” Eve said breathlessly into the speaker. “And three sides of large fries. And—and five number threes. An extra-large chocolate milkshake. Um, and a chicken salad,” she added bashfully, wondering what had come over her. That was way too much food. She opened her mouth, wanting to cut the order, but she just couldn’t bring herself to.

Eve pulled up to the window where she patiently waited until she was handed several bulging, grease-dripping bags of fast food.

Her hips twitched. “Mmghh…” she tried to hold in her groan.

“That will be $53.75,” said the window worker as he tapped away on his computer touchscreen.

What the hell did I order? Nevertheless, she handed over her credit card.

While handing the card back, the worker startled and gave Eve a baffled look, though Eve supposed it was warranted. Her breasts and nipples were huge, there were damn splotches in her shirt, and in her current seated position, the lower part of her slime-belly was left to bulge out from the bottom of her t-shirt.

Eve felt a weird tingling sensation over her hips and backside, almost as though her skin was crawling. She tried to ignore it as she hastily shoved her bags and wallet onto the passenger seat, rolled up her window and drove off. She just needed to get home. She would deal with everything else later.

-

Eve barely made it to her kitchen before she began to tear savagely into the food. Burgers, fries, and chicken sandwiches were stuffed into her mouth until her cheeks were bulging as she struggled to chew, desperate to get all of the grease-saturated food inside of her as quickly as possible. Each gulp she took seemed to add tension to the slime coating her abdomen. Sauce rolled down her chin, but she wiped it up and sucked her fingers, before gorging herself on a small mountain of chicken nuggets, and finished it all off with the milkshake which she sucked down at an impossible rate.

When she came out of her reverie, she found herself slumped at her kitchen table, clothes dirty, fingers sticky, stomach feeling uncomfortably tight. “What on earth?” she murmured as she stared at the wrappers and crumbs coating the table. A loud belch tore through her throat.

By then, even her skirt was feeling worrisomely tight. Eve wriggled her way out of it, while trying not to antagonize the shaft, which was still firmly tucked inside of her, making her face redden at the mere thought.

Heaving herself up, Eve lumbered over to her bedroom and stood in the mirror, still panting from her binge.

The slime was spreading.

Eve could see that as she stood there in just her t-shirt and underwear. It was now coating her hips and ass, adding a layer of sleek softness which was sure to exacerbate the struggle of fitting into any of her pants.

The shaft could not be contained by her small panties at all, instead protruding up out of the waistband, prodding into the underside of her slime-belly. Eve grunted and absently held the side of the mound.

She couldn’t believe how heavy it was. She knew that the slime could be much lighter, and that for some reason, it had chosen to be a weight comparable to an actual pregnancy. She still didn’t know what to think about the lactation. The breasts and nipples undeniably felt like they were her own. Did that mean that she was lactating and not the slime producing the fluid independently? She didn’t know. All the sensations were just so confusing.

Her predicament was looking increasingly hopeless. Eve didn’t know what to do. Cupping the underside of the belly mound, she went to her small desk and eased herself in the chair, her slime-gut pressing against the edge of the desk. Eve shifted back the chair to make more space, before sighing, and reaching forward to open her laptop.

She suspected that going back to her job and seeking aid was inevitable. She would lose her job, but with the way things were progressing, that would probably be the least of her concerns. Eve was queasy at the thought of an uncomfortable meeting with her superiors, but she supposed a good place to start was with ordering some clothes that actually fit her.