Slugs II, Part 1 - 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.

Slugs II - Male Version

-

Cona had to admit, her new apartment wasn’t ideal.

But the rent was ridiculously cheap. There was no security deposit or anything. A basement one-bedroom, it was a bit on the dingy side, but the cheap rent gave Cona the opportunity to save for a down payment on a house.

The main downside was the weird landlord, as far as Cona was concerned. As Cona was renting the basement of a house, the owner lived upstairs. Her name was Misty, and she was always looking shifty and nervous. Cona took lengths to avoid her, often citing work as an excuse. Cona left in the early morning and returned in the evening, and generally wasn’t one to fraternize with neighbors.

Work kept Cona busy. At only twenty-seven, she had started her own accounting firm. Upkeep often necessitated 12-hour work days. And when Cona got home, she could usually do little more than collapse in her bed. She doubted that even an earth quake could rouse her.

It was unfortunate for Cona that she was such a heavy sleeper. It was 2AM one morning, during Cona’s second week in her new apartment, that her sheets shifted slightly, a plump slug working its way within it. Wide as a tennis ball at its greatest width, the beige slug was the last survivor of the mutated slug creatures that had once infested the apartment. And it was desperate for a host.

It squirmed closer and closer to the sleeping Cona, looking for an entryway into the young woman’s body. Cona shifted, only slightly, as the slug connected with her thigh. The slug proceeded up Cona’s leg, leaving a trail of slime in its wake. Finally, the slug slid to Cona’s opening, and began to proceed—

Cona tensed in her sleep. She released a groan. “Simon…” she mumbled the name of her ex, her face contorting, and her groan raising in pitch. “Wait…oohhhhhh…”

Cona gasped awake. She instinctively reached behind her, but there was no one there. She slid her hand down to her groin, but again found nothing. It had almost felt like something had…entered her. But there was no trace of anything being there, except a faint soreness, and a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach. Cona shifted uncomfortably. What did I eat today? she wondered, and she pulled her sheets back up over her head and closed her eyes.

The next few days were largely the same. Cona would leave for work at six in the morning and return home around seven at night. But Cona noticed an unprecedented slowdown. She wondered if she was getting sick or something. She just felt drained and sluggish, her body no longer wanting to heed her commands.

She supposed her eating habits weren’t helping. Her daily breakfast of a spinach and egg-white omelette had promptly been replaced with donuts. Her lunch of chicken salad had been replaced with pasta dishes, pizzas, heroes, or whatever other monstrosities the local pizza joint had on their delivery menu.

Cona’s formerly lean body was slowly getting softer. Her usually tiny breasts were getting fuller, her butt was developing a padding, and she was starting to get a beer gut. She blamed it on her busy schedule, but Cona knew she was letting herself go. As the weeks went on, her appetite only seemed to surge, and the weight continued to pile on.

Cona climbed out of her car one evening. She avoided looking at the front upstairs windows, though she could feel the landlord watching her from the blinds, as she often did. “Freak,” Cona muttered under her breath as she walked to her apartment and unlocked the door.

Cona entered and was relieved to be able to unbutton her wool coat. It had gotten tight on her in recent weeks. Cona pulled it off and hung it up, trying not to look at her stomach, not wanting to think about how much it had grown.

But there was no avoiding it. She had already gone up shirt size, but diamonds of skin were beginning to appear between her blouse buttons again. As she undid her shirt, Cona couldn’t help frowning down at her beer-belly of a mound. Her gaze shifted to her chest, where she had developed B-cup breasts—albeit, she wasn’t going to complain about those. She’d had to go up a pant-size as well. Her ass had plumpened up behind her—she looked like she’d gotten work done. Cona nearly cringed at herself, mournful of the loss of her formerly lean form.

Groaning, Cona entered her bedroom and stripped off her work clothes. She replaced them with a t-shirt and some shorts. It was less confining than her work clothes, and more comfortable.

Cona walked into her kitchen and opened the refrigerator where she eyed a container of food she had prepared for herself early that morning. Chicken breast, some vegetables, and brown rice. Cona’s stomach grumbled as she lifted the container and stuck it into the microwave. She stood, waiting impatiently until the warming cycle finished. She then pulled it out, grabbed a fork, and sat down at her small kitchen table.

Cona munched on her carefully-portioned, flavorless, meal, but it had none of the fat or calorie content that her body craved. Even as Cona finished the meal off, her stomach continued to growl.

I’m getting too accustomed to junk food, Cona decided as she washed her plate and went to bed. She tossed and turned for a while as her stomach grumbled and ached. She tried her best to fall asleep.

But within an hour, Cona was back up and pacing her living room, holding her belly with one hand while gripping the phone to her ear with the other, ordering food, more food than even seemed rational. Cartons of Chinese. She waited anxiously for thirty minutes until it arrived, the delivery man awkwardly handing over several bulging bags.

Cona opened the cartons and set them on her circular kitchen table. In fact, they could barely fit on the surface and threatened to spill over.

The various aromas were tantalizing. Cona paused to take a deep breath, try to grasp onto just what was going on.

But then her stomach lurched, and she couldn't wait a moment longer. She dug through cartons of lomain, egg foo young, fried rice, and fried chicken wings. She scarfed down oily beef with broccoli, sticky coconut shrimp, syrupy sesame chicken, and the plumpest dumplings she'd ever seen. She finished things off with several more cartons of fried rice followed by half a gallon of milk she had in the fridge.

When she was finished, she collapsed to the couch, gasping for breath as she held her belly, which looked even plumper than it had been before.

She hadn't eaten Chinese in years, holding a distaste for the fattening way it was prepared in her country. But it had been the only venue open that late on a week night, and she'd felt absolutely desperate.

Still panting, Cona stared at the way her belly had begun to stretch out her T-shirt.

-

Cona called a staff meeting at work a few days later. Unconsciously holding her belly with one hand, she paced the front of the meeting room as she discussed charts, diagrams, and projections with her staff. Her belly bobbed gently in the skin-tight blouse straining to contain it. The buttons looked ready to pop right off.

If judging by pregnancy standards, Cona looked six months along. Though on her slim frame, it just seemed worse.

On top of that, her posterior was still rounding out and was now quite snug in all her dress pants. In fact, all of her pants were severely ill-fitting at that point, pushed down in the front, pumped out in the back, and she could barely get the buttons closed on the ones she could still get on.

“Any questions?” said Cona, as the meeting started to wind down.

There was a period of silence, Cona’s young group of employees simply staring at her.

Finally, the newest hire, Zoe, raised her hand. “Just one.When is the baby due?”

The room filled with muffled giggles as Cona scowled, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. She lowered her hand from her belly as she coldly said, “I appreciate you noticing my weight gain.”

At seeing Cona’s icy reaction, Zoe’s smile fell from her face. “Oh wow, I, um—I was just joking, m’am.” She awkwardly coughed.

“Great show of professionalism,” said Cona, which roused a new bout of giggles. “I’ll be sure to notate it on your performance review. Are there any serious questions?” She looked over the room.

There were none.

“Meeting adjourned.” And Cona walked off.

-

A few days later, Cona awoke to a strange, squirming sensation within her belly. Her eyes widened as she held the mound. For some reason, loins tingled. Cona felt around her stomach, but the sensation had already disappeared. It was probably just indigestion. A glance at the clock told Cona that it was 4AM. She supposed she might as well get an early start on the day.

Cona climbed out of bed and walked about her room, getting ready for work. Still in her short silk nightdress, she walked into the bathroom to brush her teeth. As she did, she felt a lurch within her stomach that caused her to gasp, her toothbrush clattering to the floor. Hunching down, Cona clutched her belly as the pressure inside of it grew. “Ohhhh…” Cona groaned, regretting the several pounds of Thai food she had eaten as a midnight snack. Cona’s face reddened as the tension within her grew and grew, her usually-soft mound becoming firm in her hold. There was another lurch, the pressure peaking at her navel. Cona yelped as she felt a popping sensation. Gasping, she looked down at herself, rubbing her hands over her mound. She blinked, and slowly slid her nightdress up over her usually “inward” belly button.

It was now protruding outward.

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