Slugs II, Part 9 - 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.

Previous Chapter

-

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

“Push, Connor, try to push,” Gary encouraged as Tina began to draw back Connor’s knees.

But Connor was gripping his waistband, keeping it in place. He didn’t know why. He just knew he wasn’t ready. He wheezed and stared at his throbbing mound.

“Oh fuhhhhcckk…” he gasped out as his mound contracted again. His belly looked massive, and he could feel his bottom rapidly swelling. He squirmed and fumbled in resistance. Gary held Connor’s shoulders down against the couch.

“Connor, are you with me?”

“Mmmmmmghhh…” There was a tearing noise as Connor’s pants gave way, his plump ass cheeks pushing through the seat. God, it was huge. He was sweating. Connor shifted, feeling helpless in his current predicament. He desperately rubbed his hips, releasing a yelp as his belly bobbed, and the slug gave another powerful wriggle. His entire lower body felt painful and weird, like it was stretching apart.

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

Then it sank back down. This was truly torture. Connor released harsh pants as he rubbed the low ball. The pressure was really shooting down to his ass now. Again Connor leaned up, grabbed at Gary’s shirt. “Gary, this has to…has to stop,” Connor panted weakly. He could already feel a new contraction rolling forward. His eyes leaked tears. “I c-can’t. I…nrrgggghhhhhh!”

Tina rubbed Connor’s inflating mound. His nipples began to squirt. “Mmmffggghhh…nnghhhhh…” And now his ass really was in pain. Something was pushing…pushing against it. Oh god… The pain was dizzying. And yet he was aroused. But Connor didn’t even have the energy to feel embarrassed about it.

Eyes squeezed shut, Connor pushed. His pelvis was so tight, it felt like it would break. His anus was hot, and he could feel something sliding…burning its way against him, something massive stuffing itself against his impossibly tight hole. “Arrrghhhhhhhh!” Connor cried out, and he could feel himself making some headway.

Then the contraction ended, and whatever had begun to push out of him, simply slid back in. Connor sunk down, gasping for breath. He braced himself for the next contraction, but there was no sign of one. He wiped his eyes. He was almost relieved.

But looking down, it was clear to Connor that the slug was still inside of him.

Gary’s face was blank. “The drug wore off.” He turned to Tina. “Connor must not have made enough headway, and…” He trailed off and bit his fingernails, then turned away and began to mumble to himself.

Connor continued to pant, still struggling to catch his breath. “What—does that mean?” he managed to say.

Tina frowned. “Not good,” she said, looking stressed.

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

Tina forced a smile. “Why don’t you take a break?” she suggested.

“That was the plan,” Connor breathed, now rubbing the small of his back. His shifted his gaze to Gary. “What if this thing can't come out?”

Gary frowned and did not return Connor’s gaze.

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

After a tense moment, Gary forced himself to speak. “Right,” he agreed weakly, and nodded. “Tomorrow.” He headed for the door.

Tina trailed after him, but just before exiting the apartment, she turned back to Connor. “Try not to eat anything.”

Connor blankly watched as the two left. He slowly swung his legs off the couch and leaned against the back.

He stared off for a while, not exactly sure of what had just transpired. Gary had seemed shaken. What was the scientist not telling him? Connor put his head back and waited for his heartbeat to even out.

After a while of sitting there in numb silence, Connor could no longer ignore his feelings of hunger. Tina’s suggestion that he eat nothing seemed implausible in his present condition. Then again, he doubted the girl could comprehend the potency of his cravings. Deciding that he would have a snack, Connor took a deep breath, and heaved himself off the couch.

He immediately gasped, and clutched his belly. The slug felt heavier than ever. The mound was undeniably bigger. He looked as though he was pregnant with quints! Connor reddened and frowned down at the intrusive mound.

He carefully slid one of his hands down from supporting his belly to exploring the swell of his backside where it protruded out from the torn back of his pants. 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 man.

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

The slug shifted gently, as if appreciative.

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

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

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

Connor’s hand again connected with the fruit bowl, but now it was empty. He looked down at the apple cores and fruit seeds littering the table. His eyes drifted to the wall clock. It was 10PM, and he was suddenly feeling risky. He life was over anyway. Gripping the table, Connor heaved himself up, and waddled his way back to his bedroom.

-

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

In his mirror, Connor’s eyes lowered to his belly, which was presently stretching out the inflexible shirt material. He shifted and tugged the shirt, but there was little he could do to make himself look any less bizarre.

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

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