Slugs II, Part 9 - Female Version

Story Directory: $5 Patrons
Story Directory: $10 Patrons
Story Directory: $20 Patrons

Story Schedule

Slugs on Deviantart

Previous Chapter

Summary: Cona is impregnated with a massive, mutated slug. And unfortunately for those around her, the condition proves contagious. Contains: belly expansion, breast expansion, butt expansion, bug expansion, unbirthing.

-

“Oh god,” Cona gasped for breath. “Oh god, I think its commm…mmmggghhhh…” She hugged her throbbing mound, veins rising on her temples. The mound bobbed viciously. It felt like the slug was going to tear right out of her!

“Push, Cona, try to push,” Misty encouraged as Tim began to draw back Cona’s knees.

Tim then tried to pull down Cona’s skirt, but Cona abruptly gripped her waistband, stopping him. She didn’t know why. She just knew that she wasn’t ready. She wheezed and stared at her throbbing mound.

“Oh fuhhhhcckk…” she gasped out as her mound contracted again. Her belly looked massive, and she could feel her hips swelling. She squirmed and fumbled in resistance. Misty held Cona’s shoulders down against the couch.

“Cona, are you with me?”

“Mmmmmmghhh…” There was a tearing noise as Cona’s skirt gave way, her plumpened ass cheeks pushing through the seat. God, her hips were large now. She was sweating. Cona shifted, feeling helpless in her current predicament. She desperately rubbed her hips, releasing a yelp as her belly bobbed, and the slug gave another powerful wriggle. Her entire lower body felt painful and weird, like it was stretching apart.

“Oh goddddddd…” she groaned. The heated pulsing had shifted to her groin. Her belly mound was round and flexible, but when it contracted, it swelled so tight it felt like it would pop. Her skin was flushed and she could barely breathe. This was torture. She leaned up slightly, searching for a position to alleviate the tension. In consequence, round D-cup breasts popped out of her torn shirt. Her chest heaving, Cona dropped back down, arching her back, pushing her mound forward as it swelled out of control, her face reddening, the mound reddening, everything tightening! Misty and Tim staring in wonderment as it swelled to the size of a beach ball.

Then it sunk back down. This was truly torture. Cona released harsh pants as she rubbed the low ball. The pressure was really shooting down to her groin now. Again Cona leaned up, grabbed at Misty’s shirt. “Misty, this has to…has to stop,” Cona panted weakly. She could already feel a new contraction rolling forward. Her eyes leaked tears. “I c-can’t. I…nrrgggghhhhhh!”

Tim rubbed Cona’s inflating mound. Her nipples began to squirt. “Mmmffggghhh…nnghhhhh…” And now her opening really was in pain. Something was pushing…pushing against it. Oh god… The pain was dizzying, but so was the arousal. Cona grunted as she came, fluids seeping between her legs. But she didn’t even have the energy to feel embarrassed about it.

Eyes squeezed shut, Cona pushed. Her pelvis was so tight, it felt like it would break. Her opening was hot, and she could feel something sliding…burning its way against her, something massive stuffing itself against her impossibly tight hole. “Arrrghhhhhhhh!” Cona cried out, and she could feel herself making some headway.

Then the contraction ended, and whatever had begun to push out of her, simply slid back in. Cona sunk down, gasping for breath. She braced herself for the next contraction, but there was no sign of one. She wiped her eyes. She was almost relieved.

But looking down, it was clear to Cona that the slug was still inside of her.

Misty’s face was blank. “The drug wore off.” She turned to Tim. “Cona must not have made enough headway, and…” She trailed off and bit her fingernails, then turned away and began to mumble to herself.

Cona continued to pant, still struggling to catch her breath. “What—does that mean?” she managed to say.

Tim frowned. “Not good,” he said, looking stressed.

Cona was so exhausted, she could hardly react. Bracing her hands against the cushions beneath her, she began to sit up, feeling strangely disjointed. She stared at her dripping nipples and her stuffed-looking pelvis. The more Cona sat up, the more relief she found, her belly shifting back up, back into position, making her feel fuller and fuller until she released a belch. Cona could not resist the relief, and hurriedly she popped the slug back into her stomach, as she gasped, and it bobbed, and left her feeling incredibly full again. She rubbed her sort hips. Her belly was still low, but no longer squeezed deep in her pelvis.

Tim forced a smile. “Why don’t you take a break?” he suggested.

“That was the plan,” Cona breathed, now rubbing the small of her back. She shifted her gaze to Misty. “What if this thing can't come out?”

Misty frowned and did not return Cona’s look.

“Don’t say that,” said Tim quickly. “For now, just—just get some rest. We’ll resume tomorrow. We’ll bring some more…supplies. R-right, doctor?” He turned to Misty.

After a tense moment, Misty forced herself to speak. “Right,” she agreed weakly, and nodded. “Tomorrow.” She headed for the door.

Tim trailed after her, but just before exiting the apartment, he turned back to Cona. “Try not to eat anything.”

Cona blankly watched as the two left. She slowly swung her legs off the couch and leaned against the back.

She stared off for a while, not exactly sure of what had just transpired. Misty had seemed shaken. What was the scientist not telling her? Cona put her head back and waited for her heartbeat to even out.

After a while of sitting there in numb silence, Cona could no longer ignore her feelings of hunger. Tim’s suggestion that she eat nothing seemed implausible in her present condition. Then again, she doubted the boy could comprehend the potency of her cravings. Deciding that she would have a snack, Cona took a deep breath, and heaved herself off the couch.

She immediately gasped, and clutched her belly. The slug felt heavier than ever. The mound was undeniably bigger. She looked as though she was pregnant with quints! Cona reddened and frowned down at the intrusive mound.

She carefully slid one of her hands down from supporting her belly to exploring the swell of her backside where it protruded out from the torn back of her skirt. It was definitely bigger, no longer the flat, bony slab that it had been prior to when all of this had started. It was nowhere near as swollen as it had been at the peak of labor, but it was still a fairly massive ass for a skinny young girl, with round hips to go along with it.

Cona squeezed her eyes closed, briefly mourning her formerly athletic frame. Then she took a deep breath, and waddled toward the kitchen, ready to indulge in a small bit of food therapy. She pulled a box of crackers out of a cupboard, supposing it would suffice. Cona tore open the box and stuffed down several dozen crackers in just a matter of seconds. It left her mouth dry. She waddled her way over to the fridge and pulled out the gallon of milk. After she had gulped down half of it, she released a massive belch.

The slug shifted gently, as if appreciative.

Cona waddled over to the table and eased herself down into a chair. She held her breath as the wood creaked, but it stayed together. She stared at the way her belly perched on her lap, the rest of her torso slim aside from her dripping D-cups. Even her arms and legs had remained thin. Her belly looked almost fake, and entirely ridiculous. It rose and fell on its own, as though the slug itself was breathing. It all made Cona sick to her stomach.

Her eyes landed on the fruit bowl in the center of the table. She absently lifted a grape and plucked it into her mouth. It was just a grape, after all. She began to eat them one after the next, her hand soon finding its way to an apple.

She just needed food. As much as she could get. Cona helplessly endured as she continued to stuff herself. She didn’t know if it was hormones or cravings, or if the slug had some mental hold on her. Or maybe it was just panic, and phobia of the next mortifying session of laboring tomorrow. Maybe it was guilt as well. Cona wondered if she hadn’t been giving it her all because of embarrassment.

Cona’s hand again connected with the fruit bowl, but now it was empty. She looked down at the apple cores and fruit seeds littering the table. Her eyes drifted to the wall clock. It was 10PM, and she was suddenly feeling risky. She life was over anyway. Gripping the table, Cona heaved herself up, and waddled her way back to her bedroom.

-

She had miraculously gotten her morbidly obese employee, Sarah, to drop off an outfit by the door, with no request for an explanation. Anything to suck up to the boss, Cona supposed. Within an hour, Cona was squeezing herself into a black skirt and a button down shirt, that was baggy at the chest, but skin tight at the abdomen. With an assortment of internal clothes pins, she managed to tighten the top of the shirt enough to frame her but not readily reveal her newly-grown breasts. Chest up, she looked relatively normal.

In her mirror, Cona’s eyes lowered to her belly, currently stretching the inflexible shirt material. She shifted and tugged the shirt, but there was little she could do to make herself look any less bizarre.

Cona sighed. Again resigning herself to the fact that her life was over, she waddled back into her kitchen and grabbed her keys off the table, trying her best to ignore the stinging in her back and soreness of her hips. She grabbed her leather jacket and opened her apartment door. It was time to treat herself to one last outing.

Next Chapter