Spiders, Part 8

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Summary: Scientists attempt to breed a species of tiny alien spiders in Cona's breasts. Contains: Female: breast impregnation, breast expansion, lactation, multiple characters, belly expansion, egg laying, unbirthing, alien pregnancy/bug pregnancy.

Previous Chapter

-

The monitoring band grew progressively tighter on Sana throughout the evening as she was pumped with the foul substance that plopped down heavily in her stomach. She grimaced as the band cut into her flesh, and feared the pressure would crack the egg inside her.

She tried to suck in her abdomen, draw it back at least an inch to help alleviate just a tiny bit of the increasing pressure.

It was no use.

Her breasts were plump, round, and tender from Eric’s attention to them. He had finished suckling from her only a short while ago, and was presently rummaging around in one of the drawers in that dark lab room.

“Ah, here it is.” Eric lifted something that gleamed, and Sana was able to make out a syringe. He uncapped it with his teeth as he approached her. Sana’s body recoiled; little good that did.

“This inhibiter should prevent the creatures from breeding in your breasts,” Eric said, reaching down to inject half of the syringe in her right breast and the other half in the left one, as Sana winced. “Don’t say I’ve never done you any favors.” His eyes trailed down her swollen abdomen, a look of distaste coloring his expression. His gaze shifted back up to her chest, before he reached down to give her nipple a tweak of goodbye.

Goddammit! Sana seized and shuddered, eyes stinging as some of the gelatinous sludge went down the wrong pipe, and she tried not to choke.

Eric allowed his fingertips to be soaked in the fresh surge of thick, warm, milk. He lifted his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean. “See you in the morning,” he said as he leered at her.

Sana’s fists clenched and unclenched at her sides. She mentally obscenities after him as he strolled off.

She groaned and squirmed as the band grew yet tighter, cutting into her unresisting flesh. Through her nose, she breathed in harsh breaths, which only seemed to exacerbate her dilemma. Her belly puffed in and out as she grunted in discomfort, body pouring sweat. Her back throbbed and her shoulders ached from her inflexible position.

Her mound stung, and grew yet tighter, as though just to spite her. It’s going to break inside me! she thought, as her belly gave one great tremor. She squeezed her eyes shut, and braced herself, waiting for pain to explode through her core.

The band snapped. Her belly pushed forward, and it was almost heavenly compared to before.

“Hahhhh…hahhhh…” Sana tried to catch her breath. She felt relieved that the egg had not been damaged, yet concerned by its strength; that it’s shell was harder than the thick medical strap that had been tied around her. Sana slumped back as the monitors crashed to the floor.

-

When her colleagues strolled into the lab the following morning, Sana was languid from fatigue, as though she had been actually laboring. She had been unable to sleep without the risk of choking, as the feeding tube in her throat had pumped her continuously throughout the night. Her efforts to wriggle and dislodge the tube proved futile—it was tied with straps around the back of her head, and her frustrated struggles had only exhausted her. She felt dizzy and faint, her vision blurred around the edges, and yet she continued to gulp.

There was a flicking noise. The machine turned off. Sana’s eyelids lifted as John reached over to unlatch the hose from around her head. She coughed harshly as he unceremoniously yanked it out of her throat. Substance flowed down her chin, dripping thickly on her neck, but she wasn’t purging—it was only a residual flow of what had been caught in her cheeks and left in her mouth. Sana didn’t think she could have vomited had she tried. It was as though her body wouldn’t let her.

Her back was aching. She wanted to get up, but only managed to shiver, her limbs feeling like liquid. She lay there, flat against the bed, feeling pinned by her increased weight. She stared foggily up at her traitorous colleagues, completely boneless.

Sana caught a glimpse of her bloated, tingly breasts, its appearance consistent with the way it felt—the two mounds there were fatly engorged, nipples dripping milk yet aching for release as her flushed cleavage pushed against the opening in her lab coat.

Her belly had fully pushed out, and rose over her breasts, eclipsing them in size. She had suffered substantial growth—she looked as though she was nine months pregnant by then. Her inwards navel felt tense and uncomfortable, her skin feeling unpleasantly pressurized and stretched.

Sana groaned in protest as John and Mike grabbed her shoulders, and heaved her upright to a sitting position. As the abdominal pressure peaked in her core, she felt a popping sensation, which caused her to wail and grip her mass. Belatedly she realized that her belly button her popped out quite largely. She cradled the nub, her cheeks hot. She couldn’t believe how much she had grown.

“I…” She trailed off, faintly, and felt herself begin to slump forwards, over the edge of the bed. Someone leaned down at the last minute, catching her around she chest, keeping her balanced. She moaned.

“She’s weak,” said Eric, his voice near her ear. He hardly bothered to hide his amusement.

“We all got held up treating flu patients,” said Mike. “You were supposed to be keeping an eye on her.”

Sana felt Eric shrug. “Had a personal thing,” he said unrepentantly. Sana wanted to wrench herself from his arms, but could hardly hold herself up as things were.

“She’s gotten significantly larger,” said John. Sana felt a calloused hand rub over her firm belly. “In fact I’d say it’s mostly egg-growth. I don’t think she’s developed much fat or food weight. Get the sonogram. And let’s test her milk and see how the spiders are doing on that end.”

There was shuffling movement around her, but she failed to keep her eyes more than half-lidded before they fluttered closed again. She felt something rolling towards her—a cart. As the other scientists hurried around, heeding John’s orders, Eric sat on the bed and shifted her slightly. She slumped against him, her face pressing his shoulder.

“Eric…” she slurred, her words muffled in the crisp cotton of his lab coat. She wanted to tell him to do something. To help her somehow. She wanted to appeal to whatever humanity he’d feigned when they’d dated. There had to be something there, some sort of moral code.

“You’re out of favors, dear,” Eric murmured back against her hair. “You give an inch, they take a mile.” He gave her right breast a subtle grope.

She gave a disgruntled groan against his lab coat. She tried to shove him away but barely managed to flop her arms.

Footsteps approached. Eric got up, and two pairs of hands grabbed hold of her shoulders. Sana was reclined back on the bed, but now it had been adjusted to an upright position. Her belly was exposed and a cool substance was spurted on her throbbing navel.

She whimpered and fidgeted as the sonogram was performed, the careless pressure of the device, for some reason, making her loins tingle.

“This growth rate is astounding,” came Simon’s shocked voice.

There were excited murmurs around her.

The rest of her clothes were peeled away. Sana released a hiss as her right nipple was squeezed, followed soon by her left one, a sample of milk taken from each one.

“Let’s get this under the microscope,” said John.

Several footsteps retreated, and Sana was left alone, where she dozed.

She didn’t know how long she was unconscious, but when she woke, John was speaking in his usual monotone:

“The spider saturation is even worse than before. They failed to thrive. In fact, they’re dying off in the subject’s breasts.”

“It makes no sense,” Mike said, sounding truly plaintive. “Why did it work for Cona, but not Sana?”

“And what about the continued breast growth—the lactation?” added Simon.

“It must be a side-effect of the egg—her body interpreting it as a pregnancy, and producing milk for the potential offspring.” –That was Eric of course, trying to divert everyone.

As someone walked over, leaning down to take her vitals, Sana found her trembling fingers reaching out to grip a lab coat.

“Sana?” said John, prodding her with his stethoscope.

“Please…please…please…” she murmured sleepily. By some miracle she managed to lift her eyes again, and blinked around as her pupils dilated against the brightness of the lab.

“What is it?” said John, leaning over attentively. “Are you in pain?”

“Mmmm…hungry…” she managed. Her belly shuddered.

Her colleagues all looked at each other in astonishment.

-

When Sana awoke again, she was surprised to find herself in her quarters. It was night time. She managed to lift her arm long enough to turn on the lamp on her night stand. Then she laid there for a few moments, catching her breath.

She felt stronger, if just somewhat. Her arm stung, and she looked to see that an IV line had been placed there. Her eyes followed the tubing to see a large bag of purple substance being pumped into her vein. Several extra bags were hanging from the IV stand.

Sana recognized the treatment. Sustainable Nutrition Packets, that she and her colleagues often dubbed fat-bags. They were used primarily for the aliens from planet Flibber, who were prone to rapid-wasting when exposed to any sort of stressors. The ship had several Flibborians on board, and they certainly would have been a liability, were they not such rapid and efficient workers.

Sana groaned and shifted.

She didn’t know how many of the packets she had been dosed with already, or how long she had been unconscious this time around. The fact remained that she felt decidedly stronger, the compromise of feeding while unconscious an improvement over her treatment the previous evening.

She looked down to marvel at her body, at the fact that her belly was even larger than the last time she had surveyed it.

She was getting truly huge. She was wearing nothing more than her panties and a scrap of beige cloth about her chest, a sort of bandeau. She didn’t even want to think about the number of violating tests she must have been forced to undergo in her unconsciousness.

Her breasts were easily D-cups by then, full, round, hot, and clearly engorged. Large patches of moisture had formed against the thin fabric, causing her to notice how unusually large her nipples were, how prominently they seemed to protrude as they ached, and pulsed, and continued to chronically drip milk into her shirt. She groaned and raised her hands, but resisted the urge to touch them. Instead, she shifted her attention down to her abdomen.

She looked overdue with twins, her belly full and round, and tight with pressure. Her belly button was swollen to the size of golf ball, her gut rising up and down—even when she was holding her breath. She was pulsing with growth. She almost wanted to rip out the IV line, but she felt hungry even then.

Oh gods, Sana thought, placing her hands on either side of her stomach. She had grown far larger than she had ever intended. She felt around her body; the way her pelvis cradled the large, unresisting mound that protruded over it. If she wanted to stick with her original plan, she had to act now.

Sana groaned as she forced herself upright, panting heavily. She managed to swing her legs over the edge of her mattress, and gripping her night stand, hauled herself to her feet. She nearly toppled over.

She grabbed the IV line with one hand, her other hand braced against the wall. She stood there panting, sweating, her body feeling tight to bursting as she balanced it in an upright position. Her mound was flushed and heaving, so heavy, it felt like it could drop away from her somehow. As she observed the way it was beginning to outgrow her flanks, she gulped, resolute in her decision.

She had to get to the lab.

The fact that he colleagues had left her free meant that they did not consider her a threat—at least, not anymore. They did not believe that she had any control over the progression of her condition. And perhaps they were right.

But she hoped they weren’t.

Sana somehow managed to navigate her trembling legs into a pair of sweatpants, which sat low on her thin legs, widened hips, and bloated ass, making way for her large, unresisting belly. By then she was so fatigued, she didn’t dare bother to pull on a shirt. It wasn’t as though she was likely to fit into any of her petite clothing anymore. And so, she waddled her way to the door.

The stretched bandeau hardly accommodated her swollen, seeping breasts. The mounds bulged against the soaked material, pushing both under and over it, as they were shelved by her belly. Sana used the IV stand as a sort of cane in her progression. She felt heavy and awkward, her back tense and shuddering as her bare feet padded against the cool, metallic floor.

It was late enough that she didn’t see anyone in the corridors. Sana dragged herself towards the lab as quickly as her weary body would allow. She was determined about her enterprise.

This could be her last chance to give birth.