Slugs II, Part 10 - Male Version

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

This story is a work of fiction. All characters featured in this work are 18 years of age or older.

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The mound was round and fat, and made him look as though he was due with quints. But unlike a pregnancy, the ball wasn’t firm but squishy when he felt it. In consequence, it bobbed uncomfortably, and was particularly stressful on his anatomy. Connor found it best to clutch it when he walked about. It certainly necessitated support.

His swollen mound and stretched button-down shirt bulged out from his black leather jacket, which in turn served little purpose than to cover his arms. Hips sore, Connor made his way into the gay nightclub. One of his employees manned the back door for VIPs, and promptly allowed Connor access at seeing that it was him. This was not without a shocked stare. Connor simply nodded in appreciation as he was allowed inside.

Still clutching his belly, Connor made his way through the crowds. He tried his best not to evidently waddle, though it was dark enough that he doubted people would notice. The crowded space also seemed to help conceal Connor’s belly. This place had been one of Connor’s go-to spots for dancing. Well, had been. Nowadays, Connor mostly stayed in.

He made his way to the bar, and managed to ease himself into a seat, with a minimum amount of struggle but a massive amount of awkwardness. His belly was perched in his lap, hot and full, and heaving up and down as he sat there. Partially squished against the bar, it was mostly hidden from view.

Connor still felt self-conscious. There was no fix for his problem. It wasn’t like he could just start doing some extra reps at the gym and look good again. He ordered a gin and tonic, and sipped it as he gazed down at the bar. A second drink slid in front of him, and Connor lifted his eyes to the bartender, who subsequently nodded towards a person a few seats down.

Though reluctant, Connor turned his head to see the man who had purchased his next drink. Connor instantly reddened. The guy was incredibly handsome, too handsome for Connor, in Connor’s current state. Connor wanted to retreat, but found himself glued in place as the handsome man began to squeeze his way through the crowd until he had made his way over to Connor.

“Hey you,” called the guy over the music, as though they were old friends or something.

“Hey…” said Connor cagily.

“I’m Matt.” The stranger was now holding either side of Connor’s face, truly examining his features. It was nothing more or less than what Connor would expect. It was a night club, after all. “What are you doing here all alone?” the guy asked, singsongy.

Connor sighed. “Long story.”

Matt never got to hear it. Abruptly, they were kissing, licking lips, tongues invading each other’s mouths.

Their hands explored each other’s bodies. Matt slid Connor’s jacket off his shoulders, his fingers coming in contact with the mound stretching out Connor’s shirt. The slug lurched, and Connor blushed.

Matt giggled. “What is this?” he said, finally looking down to examine Connor’s abdomen through the dimly lit space. “A gag belly? That’s hilarious. Who knocked you up?”

Connor’s blush deepened. “Wait, it’s not—”

Connor gasped as Matt ripped open his button down, revealing Connor’s swollen abdomen bulging out from beneath a shrunken undershirt. Connor’s swollen C-cups were protruding over it, round and feeling rather sore.

“What the hell?” said Matt in shock, as Connor’s belly bobbed slightly, his belly button wiggling. “What’s wrong with you?”

Connor’s cheeks burned in mortification. His gut throbbed. Clutching the side of it, he eased himself off the chair, and waddled away.

Connor locked himself in the dingy club bathroom as he stared at his reflection in the cloudy mirror. What had he been thinking, coming here? He looked pregnant. Connor clenched his fists, hating himself at that moment.

Yet for some reason, he was getting aroused just looking at his mound, and the more the slug squirmed, the harder he became. The slug shuddered. “Ohhhh…” Connor groaned, leaning back on a wall. He gasped as he watched his belly button wiggle. The slug was getting fitful, yet he didn’t know why. He grunted as his belly dropped somewhat, like before, like he was in labor again. “Oh god…” Connor groaned, as he came in his pants. He slid down the wall to his knees, but soon found himself on his back on that dirty floor, his hips bucking in discomfort, his body resisting as the slug began to stuff his pelvis again. It took less time than before, painful, arousing, and absolutely horrible.

Now something was pushing out…pushing in the back of his pants—protruding. Actually—crowning! “Nrrrghhh…” Connor moaned, feebly struggling with his pants buttons as the slug protruded more and more. “Aaaggghhhhhhh!” But with a resilient pop, the slug slid right back inside him, Connor’s belly bulging as his eyes flew open and some vomit rose to his mouth. He scrambled up and barely managed to choke out his sick in the toilet. Then he took to gasping, his face red and his dick throbbing. He rubbed his hand along his mass, desperately trying to catch his breath.

Someone banged on the door. “What are you doing in there!?” called an irritable voice. Only then did Connor recall that there was a line, and only one toilet.

Clutching the toilet seat, he struggled, trembled, and managed to heave himself to his feet. He supported his belly, which had popped back above his pelvis by then. He desperately rubbed his hands up and down the mound, hoping the squirming creature within would calm a bit.

Still panting, Connor looked down at his sweaty form. He cupped his tangerine-sized belly button which was such an awkward, alien bulge, even against his mass. Connor tried to close his button-down, but it was sweaty, and truly stretching against him now. Additionally, Matt had broken some of the buttons, rendering it virtually useless.

“God…” he groaned, still feeling an uncomfortable pressure in his swollen bottom. He couldn’t get it out. He had waited too long. He was truly going to die.

He felt lonely, resentful, and miserable. Why had he allowed things to get this far?

Connor slid the button-down off his shoulders and allowed it to drop to the ground. He leaned down to the sink and splashed some water on his face, before straightening, and taking inventory of his reflection.

His face was still attractive as ever, some of his hair hanging in his eyes. His white undershirt outlined his swollen C-cups and distended nipples, while doing nothing to conceal his flushed belly, which protruded out from the bottom, looking wide and ludicrous on his otherwise slim frame.

Aside from the undershirt and tight black pants, Connor wore suspenders, which would hopefully keep everything together for the time being. He looked like a freak. A science experiment. Connor wanted nothing more than to disappear.

But somehow he managed to straighten his back, turn to the bathroom door, and open it. The frustrated people on the other side collectively developed astonished looks on their faces as Connor walked out.

Holding the side of his belly, Connor made his way back to the bar, moving slowly to avoid his mass bobbing too much. There were no more seats available, so Connor stood, against the wishes of his sore back and straining hips, and then he calmly ordered a drink.

Matt had reclaimed his spot on the other side of the bar, and Connor could feel him watching, his shock turned to fascination. Connor sipped his latest gin and tonic until he felt someone sidle up beside him.

Connor looked up from beneath his dark lashes to see that Matt had returned. “What do you want?”

Matt simply leaned over and kissed him, the two back to sucking faces as Matt curiously explored the mass. Connor took Matt’s hand and guided it, settling Matt’s digits on his bulging navel. Connor leaned his elbow back on the bar and thrust his belly out, his free hand helping Matt to rub his belly button up and down, and in a circular motion, until the protrusion was flushed and throbbing, then wiggling, Connor’s whole face going red. Connor struggled to contain his groans, his nipples burning and breasts tight. Moisture seeped into his shirt and his hands dropped, Matt continuing the massage on his own.

-

Connor groaned awake, and reluctantly opened his eyes. He felt sick…heavy. His head was throbbing. Connor looked down at himself and instantly felt like a whale. He cradled his mound as it continued to bulge out beneath his undershirt. But now the apparel seemed little more than a belly-shirt, if that. His mound was bigger. Huge, really, presently squashing against his lap. Connor’s face reddened as the slug squirmed, his whole mound seeming to bob without provocation. He grunted out as his navel madly twitched, and the round D-cups stretching his shirt began to seep milk. Connor panted and rubbed at his abdomen, just hoping it would stop. He wondered what had awoken him, when he heard a banging on his front door.

Despite it, Connor deliberated just trying to go back to sleep, and dealing with this shit later. Just before he could settle down, his eyes widened, and he scrambled out of bed, nearly collapsing from his weight and poor balance. His belly squished uncomfortably against the floor as he crawled to the corner and vomited. “Eugh…” So admittedly, he was still a little drunk. Connor reached up to his night table, fumbling to find the salt, when he heard a groggy mumble from his mattress. Connor blinked and looked up, surprised by who he spotted. “Matt?”

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