Slugs II, Part 8 - Female Version

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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.

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Cona sat in an armchair in her living room, trying her best to tough out the contractions. She couldn't believe that she was being forced to go through labor. She did her best not to react to the pains—the slug didn't deserve the pleasure of bringing her to such a submissive state. At first, only Cona's face would contort, betraying her discomfort. But as the contractions grew more powerful, Cona’s body would tense when she had one, patches of sweat growing beneath her armpits. Finally Cona took to rubbing circles on her mound, resenting herself as she did. "Mmmmm..." she heard herself moan yet she couldn't stop it. The pain was getting incrementally worse. Once the latest contraction passed, Cona took a few deep breaths of air, her belly heaving as she did.

Misty and Tim were up and about, getting things prepared, only glancing at Cona every so often to make sure that she was okay.

Cona did her best not to make eye contact with either of them. She was mortified as it was.

Weirder than the contractions was the way her belly tightened with every one, her muscles clenching against the slug, and making Cona feel like she might burst.

And the slug was getting irritable; squirming now. It was all just nerve wracking. Cona continued to rub circles to calm the mound. She had gotten this far. She might as well get through with it.

Cona’s face reddened as a tingling sensation surged to her chest, her breasts feeling increasingly warm. This had been occurring between the contractions. It was all so terribly strange. And her nipples were beginning to hurt.

“Cona.”

Cona looked up to see Misty and Tim standing over her, surveying her.

“How are things going?” said Misty.

“Fine,” Cona forced out.

“It looks like you’re making steady progress. To help move things along, you might do some squats—”

Oh hell no.

Misty continued, “I might also recommend…”

Bracing her hands tightly against the arms of the chair, Cona heaved herself up. But once she had, she realized that things had changed somewhat since she had last been upright. With a gasp, Cona automatically wrapped her arms around her mound. The fatty blob had shifted another inch or two downward, and felt uncomfortable, bobbing there, without support. Her chest heaved where it stretched her t-shirt, the mounds there feeling uncomfortably tight, the sensation of her nipples against the shirt causing her to shiver. Her skirt felt tighter as well, and she could feel that some of her ass crack had come to be exposed over the hem. Her hips felt full and tight, straining to accommodate the girth of the shifting mound.

“Easy,” Tim warned.

Cona glared at him and proceeded forward, waddling towards the bathroom, where she could gain some privacy from their prying eyes.

Once the door closed behind her, Cona leaned against it, deeply breathing. Her belly was full and round, though still had that soft, squishy texture to it that made it almost necessitate support. And her arms were getting tired. Despite it, Cona allowed her hands to trail along the mound. One hand slid down to her groin, which felt incredibly tender. Cona slid up her skirt, allowing her groin to be exposed. Her lips were swollen and flushed. She had been aroused since labor had started, to her disgust. It wasn’t something she was comfortable complaining about to Misty. Besides, there seemed a simple enough solution.

Cona gently glided her fingers along her labia. “Ngghh…” She quavered, her lips seeping between her legs as she struggled to stay on her feet. Pressing her back harder against the door, Cona grasped at the doorknob, as it was the only thing that she could reach for. “Mmphhhh…” She orgasmed a second time to her surprise, her juices dripping onto the floor in great volume. She did her best to regain her composure, and fumbled to pull her skirt down, but just the brush of her hands on her lower abdomen was too stimulating. She came for a third time, her legs feeling like jelly as her fluids oozed down between her legs. And then she stood there, trembling, gasping for breath. She wanted to collapse, but knew she would not be able to get back up. Her lips felt pressurized, felt as though they were throbbing.

“Errrgghhhh…!” Cona grunted as a contraction suddenly hit. She hunched forward, clutching at her belly as it tightened atop her pelvis. Strangely, it not only tightened, but seemed to swell out this time, if just by a few inches. Sweat pouring down her temples and her lips still oozing, Cona struggled for balance between the pain and pleasure. She panted as the contraction ended, her belly sinking back to its previous size.

Unnerved by her state, and the worsening contractions, Cona was determined to not have Tim and Misty find her in such a pathetic condition. More carefully, she slid her skirt back down and adjusted it properly at her waist, though she could feel that some of her bottom was still protruding out beneath the hem. She grabbed up some paper towels and wiped up her legs the best she could. She then tried to lean down to the floor, but it was too awkward and uncomfortable. She almost tipped right over.

Flushed and panting, Cona carefully eased herself down onto the tiles, having to spread her legs painfully wide to make room for her belly. “Mmmmpppffghhh…” She groaned as she had another contraction, her belly pushing out again, swelling inches until her belly button looked like a small tangerine. She became flushed and could hardly breathe, though the contraction seemed to go on forever.

There was a knock on the door. “Cona, you okay in there?”

Finally, the contraction began to subside, her belly slowly sinking back into place. Cona gasped for breath. “F-fine,” she forced out. Things were getting scary. Cona stared at her belly, perched like a large ball on the floor. She hated the creature. Cona half suspected that it wanted her dead.

Cona heard Misty walk away. Grabbing up the paper towels she had dropped, Cona did her best to wipe her juices off the floor, awkwardly leaning against her belly as it pressed the ground and restricted her arm range whilst being uncomfortably jostled. Once she had done her best job at clean-up—though not a particularly good one—Cona took a few moments to catch her breath.

She didn’t know how, but she managed to climb up, gripping at the counter as she did. Soon she was on her feet, leaning over the sink, again panting and sweating, and feeling like she might fall apart. She gripped at her mound, still disbelieving that she would be giving birth to this thing.

Cona slowly lifted her face or observe her reflection in the mirror.

Her belly was perched on the counter, fat sphere that it was. It was very, almost strangely, low now. It looked slightly bigger than it had at the start of the contractions. Cona blankly stared. No longer perched atop her belly, but now a few inches above it, Cona’s C-cup breasts protruded, stretching her shirt. Her nipples were sticking out profoundly, looking unnaturally erect.

Her hip looked strained now, bulging out somewhat, as though slowly taking on the implausible bulk of her low belly. Cona turned somewhat to see her backside, and was stunned by how fat and plump it had gotten behind her, now half of it sticking out beneath her straining spandex skirt. “Oh god,” she whispered, siding her hands down to rub the plump mounds. Her face reddened as her bottom tingled, her loins beginning to drip again. One didn’t get more fertile than she was. She looked like a cow. She looked like she was ready to pop out three or four babies.

There was more knocking on the door. “You really shouldn’t be alone in there,” Tim called.

Cona grimaced. “C-coming,” she forced out as she looked down from the mirror, resenting what the slug had done to her.

She made her way to the door, opened it, and waddled out of the bathroom, even though her hips felt full and tight, like they were being pushed even wider. She felt that she could barely walk, but she tried to remain composed as she could as she slowly proceeded towards the living room with an awkward and uncomfortable gait, her body rocking as she pushed herself forward. She desperately clutched at her belly, but it felt as though it was slipping away from her. She just managed to drop herself onto the couch as another contraction hit.

“Nrrgghhhhhh…” She twisted and turned. Her hips were aching. Her ass felt as though it was throbbing. Her belly was pushing, pushing against her pelvis, her muscles heaving, slamming the slug deeper. “Oh god,” Cona squirmed, sweat seeping into her clothes. “Something’s…wrong…” She croaked, as more pressure surged between her hips, atop her loins. She sprawled herself across the couch, hoping it would help with the discomfort, but this only worsened things. She spread her legs wide as she could, her belly quavering, feeling like it would burst right apart. Tim and Misty stood by to watch as Cona grunted and twisted, desperately rubbing at her hips and gut, her eyes tearing as more of the mass was jammed into her pelvis.

Then it stopped, and Cona was left gasping and choking, afraid to move, her hips were under so much strain. Now her belly was several inches below her ribs, and truly, abnormally low. Every move the slug made left Cona shuddering in pain and arousal.

Cona tried to get upright. Tim aided her, but restricted her as well. He allowed her up somewhat, but not sitting. Instead he propped some pillows behind her back. Her pussy lips were pulsating, as though in anticipation.

“Easy,” Misty supervised. “We don’t want to reverse the progress.”

Cona wasn’t sure what they were talking about but didn’t care. “Help me up,” she breathed. “Just need some air.” She felt suffocated. She absently tugged at her collar. Her breasts felt as though they were burning in the tight material. She slid her hands down, beneath the mounds, marveling at the six inches of flat skin that had been returned to her. But then her body bloated out again as her hand slipped down to the very-low mound. She grunted as her mass trembled yet again. She could tell that the slug was not pleased by the way things were progressing.

“Cona, you’re in active labor,” said Misty. “So try to get comfortable. We’re not going to be able to move you.”

“You’re not serious?” said Cona weakly. Tim got a scissor and began to cut a low neckline in her T-shirt. She resented his forwardness, but the sensation of the cool air on her burning chest almost made her let it go.

“I am,” said Misty. “Entirely.”

Cona gasped as her belly button twitched, then wiggled. She reddened, wondering if the slug truly was trying to burst out of her. Hastily cupping it, she turned back to her landlord. “Misty, don’t be ridicul—ooohhhh…mfffggghhh…” Cona moaned, as she was hit with another of the ever-changing contractions. She arched her back and kicked out as her belly continued to be jammed into her pelvis. “Fuuuhhh…ohhh…guuu…nnrrggghhhhhh…” She clutched her lower belly, as though to fight it. “Stop, oh god, make it stooo…oooohhhhh…” It ended just as Cona came right there in front of the scientist and the assistant. Now the mound was beginning to resemble a massive udder more than a pregnancy, a fat, flushed ball, sticking out beneath her shirt. Cona covered her eyes with her arm, embarrassed that she was crying. She could feel tension shifting to her loins.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s natural,” Tim assured Cona as he awkwardly patted her shoulder.

Cona said nothing. She suspected there was nothing natural about this.

“Cona, I think it’s time for you to start pushing,” said Misty. “The next contraction will be any min-”

When it hit, Cona face turned red and her eyes went wide. She knew Misty was right, and that it was time to push the creature out of her. And yet the slug had other things in mind.

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