Animals

Note: This is a story-prompt for Ryan Caday.

$20 Patreon Directory

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It started on a Tuesday.

Mel had been feeling bloated all day, and found herself eating more than usual, continuously taking breaks from her graduate school studies to dig snacks out of her fridge. It took her a while to finally notice that her belly was visibly more prominent in her tank top. So bloated that the material had begun to slide up.

From then, the pressure grew, a warm heat that blossomed inside of her. She continued to work with the uneasy awareness that her stomach was getting larger. Soon she looked as though she was six months pregnant, and she suspected internal bleeding.

Just as she was grabbing her keys to head to the hospital, her stomach started to cramp. Mel hunched over, clutching her belly, as her labia steadily opened, and something pushed free of her, into her panties, causing a weird—wriggling—lump in the crotch of her leggings. Disgusted and horrified, Mel kicked her pants off, and was confronted with a small squirming pile of…mice.

She was stunned for the remainder of the day, certain she was going crazy. When she awoke the next morning, the evidence was present: her slightly bloated midsection, the fretfully squeaking mice. She had even developed some…whiskers on her cheeks. She tugged at them, and winced.

She didn’t realize she had cried, but mascara was running down her face. She numbly collected the mice into a box, and dumped them at a nearby animal shelter, with no explanation. She got home and washed up, deciding to put the matter behind her. She was still somewhat certain she had imagined the whole thing.

Only her stomach was bloated again, getting worse by the moment, accompanied by a gassiness in the form of constant belching. When she wasn’t belching, or staring down at herself, she was overcome with an overwhelming need to stuff her face with butter, yogurt, custard, egg yolks, mayonnaise, cheese blocks, and pretty much anything she could get her hands on.

She was avoiding the issue, even as her breasts ached, and she developed a rash all down her stomach, small bumps lining her torso, two pink nubs appearing under each breast. Her head was aching, two sharp pains atop it on either side. The flesh beneath her breasts was getting puffier, developing into two distinct mounds, as her belly swelled to the point that she looked due with twins, skin lurching, twitching, pushing out with lumps of movement.

That evening, her stomach started cramping again. She writhed on the floor for hours as her body contorted and stretched. She wasn’t sure what happened, but when she awoke the next morning, the horrifying mound was gone, but her shirt was full of squirming movement, and when she pulled it up, there was a litter of piglets attached to her torso.

Mel shoved them off, and ran to her room, sobbing. She looked in the mirror. Her nose was flatter, and wider, resembling a pig snout. Her skin had taken on a pink hue—and two pig ears were protruding from atop her head! Aghast, she pulled off her shirt and stared at the extra nipples now lining her body, three on each side of her stomach, large, and leaking, with a small hill of fat beneath each one. She had an extra pair of actual breasts beneath her first set, both of which had swelled to D-cups, seemingly overnight. Mel hugged herself, shuddering.

She didn’t know what to do that day, as she progressively swelled up again, belly tightening, surging, exploding with growth. She could actually see it pushing out at times, as she fruitlessly tugged down her shirt, which continuously slid up her bloating body. Her teats stretched and flattened against her mass, strained nipples now arbitrarily giving small squirts of milk. She could feel her skin, prickling, stretching, yet she tried to distract herself. She even tried to nurse the piglets at times as they complained with their snorting whimpers, her skin crawling as they readily attached to her nipples, sinking against her belly as they nursed indulgently.

Mel dozed while sitting back on the couch, and when she awoke, her belly was the size of a beach ball on her lap, heavy and pulsing. She grunted in pain as it gave a forceful contraction. To her horror, it continued to heave with throbbing spurts of growth. She could have been due with ten babies with how large she was.

She writhed on the couch for a while, her breasts aching and hips shuddering. She massaged her flanks as minutes became hours, her body straining, vision blurring. This was the hardest birth yet.

She finally felt herself opening, but by then she was boneless. She pushed, groaned, and passed out.

When Mel awoke again, she was still pregnant, and even larger. She eased herself onto the ground, and tried to crawl, but her massive belly wouldn’t allow it. She struggled over several minutes to climb to her feet, and staggered to her mirror, clutching what she could of her heavy mass. She gazed at her swollen hips, her four EE-cup breasts, and gargantuan belly. Mostly she stared at her plump, sopping opening, from which bulged an elephant’s trunk, which was hanging down between her legs, brushing the floor between her ankles.