Nest, Part 1 (Patreon)

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Summary: Becky is pregnant with large alien beetles which crawl in an out of her at their whim and are forming a nest inside her abdomen. Contains: Female: belly expansion, breast expansion, unbirthing, and more...

-

The Doctor didn’t come home until late that night, pulling into the warm suburban neighborhood with a tired frown on his face.

He come home late most days and left early as well. He hardly saw his wife and two children anymore. But his work at the government lab was important, and they had just received a new meteor sample from the landing site discovered in Armidale.

The Doctor knew it was probably another dead lead. He and his colegues would pick the sample apart and test it for everything under the sun. They would search tirelessly—for what—alien entity? Much as he loved his field, The Doctor was growing jaded with the process. He must have gone through thousands of samples of potential “extraterrestrial origin,” and nothing had ever yielded anything of interest.

The Doctor was so weary, he hadn’t even remembered to properly decontaminate himself when he left the facilities that evening. Getting out of his car, he quietly entered his house. He shed his scrubs and lab coat in the bathroom hamper, where it was mixed with the other clothes there. He crept into his bedroom and quietly settled in bed, being careful not to rouse his wife from her sleep.

-

When Becky awoke the following morning, she blinked the sleep from her eyes, groggily climbed out of bed, and headed downstairs to the kitchen where her mother way up, about, and making coffee.

“Dad left early again?” Becky asked, looking around.

“You just missed him,” said Mom, offering an apologetic shrug.

“Still loving his job, I see,” said Becky, idly poking around the fridge. She withdrew a cheese stick.

“I’m not so sure about that,” said Mom, with a wry look. “Fresh laundry,” she added, nodding to a basket of clothes sitting in the corridor just outside of the kitchen.

Chewing on the cheese stick, Becky grabbed up the laundry basket under her free arm. She went back to her bedroom, where she quickly got washed up and dressed. She was in her senior year of high school, and though it was the weekend, Becky was scheduled to visit a potential college that afternoon. Though she tried to savor her last few months at her family home, she was excited to finally move out and venture into a level of adulthood that her eighteenth birthday, at home, with homemade cake and eighteen candles, just hadn’t offered her.

Becky pulled a pair of black leggings out of the basket, and peeled away a thin, white robe of some sort, before recognizing it as a lab coat. Dad’s stuff got mixed in with mine, she thought, as she put it aside, to join one of her brother’s missing socks that sat collecting dust on her dresser.

Becky finished getting dressed, donning a tank top and tennis team sweatshirt to accompany the leggings. With that, she put on some mascara and lip gloss, drew her hair into a messy bun, then walked out of her bedroom and picked up her running shoes in the hallway closet.

Her clothes felt ichy that day, almost tickling her, like there was a stray knat somewhere, tickling her skin, especially in the groin region.

Becky discreetly fidgeted and adjusted herself as she returned to the kitchen, doing her best to keep it discreet. “I’m off,” she told Mom, who was by then nipping at some stale popcorn from last night.

“Catching a ride with your brother?” Mom asked.

“No, this campus isn’t too far. I’ll just bike there. Tell Charlie he owes me one.”

“Mm,” Mom gave a noncommittal hum as Becky walked out of the house, and began to unchain her bike from the side of the garage.

-

Becky was itchy throughout her tour with the college officials, really itchy. She almost felt as though something was crawling on her. She tried to ignore it, and look composed. She asked intelligent questions and attentively examined facilities. Seck University was one of her top choices. But then, she also had four other top choices. She had a wealth of options, which wasn’t really helping with her tendency towards indecisiveness.

Her brother Charlie worked at mechanic shop a few blocks from the house. Becky stopped there on her way back from the college. She brought two sandwiches from a nearby deli, and Charlie started his lunch break to join her in a spare office.

Becky sat down, and just as she unwrapped her sandwich, her stomach seemed to lurch, in an odd way it never had before. “I—I have to—” she stammered, then just gave up on words, and raced to the closest bathroom.

She leaned down to retch, but all that emerged from her throat was a massive belch that made her cheeks redden. She wasn’t sure what was going on with her, she just hoped she wasn’t getting sick. She tried to recall if she had eaten anything unusual that day, but she was certain all she had consumed was a cheese stick and an apple.

Her stomach continued to lurch. She waited several moments, and when she was fairly confident that she wasn’t going to throw up, Becky returned to lunch with her brother.

-

Over the next few days, Becky felt unusually lethargic, and her appetite had surged. She found herself snacking constantly on junk food, which was new for her, but she wrote it off as anxiety about her college search. She would worry about her eating habits later, when she finished all her tests and applications, and had finally picked out a school.

She was also very gassy, and found herself frequently hurrying out of rooms to find a place to relieve her gas buildup. And her belches were always unreasonably loud.

She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she was too overwhelmed to really address it. When she dressed in the mornings, she could see that her stomach had developed a growing curve. She would promise herself that she would eat better that day, but never really followed through.

She would work relentlessly throughout the week to maintain her near-perfect grade point average. Mom would look at her in concern and encourage her to take things easy. Dad continued to be absent, and absorbed in his job. She caught him when she stayed up late one evening to finish an essay. Hugging him goodnight was the extent of their interaction. Dad looked at her and frowned, and when she went to her bedroom mirror, she wondered if her weight gain was getting noticeable.

Her stomach was a rounded curve that was starting to push into her t-shirt that usually hung loose down her torso. She sighed and shook her head. “Once I’m done with the school year, I’ll deal with this,” she promised herself.

The following day, Becky awoke slowly, as she often did now, particularly on the weekends, when her alarm wasn’t set to wake her up. She yawned and opened her eyes to narrow slits, before closing them again, and entertaining the thought of just going back to sleep until the afternoon, when the weird lurch, more of a twitching started up in her gut, and this time reverberating outside of her, on her skin. It was like something was crawling on her, something solid and tangible, that made her squirm till she realized it wasn’t just sensation. Something actually was on her! Becky was suddenly wide awake. She scrambled in her bed and tore off her sheets, just in time to catch a bug on her thighs, a big one that was a bright purple color she had never seen on an insect before. She nearly shrieked at the sight of it. She flung herself off the bed.

Becky panted, her heart pounding in her chest. She hated bugs. This one was crawling rapidly. It was round, almost fat looking. An odd beetle of some sort. She considered calling her brother in, but quickly dismissed the idea. She was an adult now, about to move out on her own. She could handle this. And so, Becky hurried to her closet where she grabbed a shoe box. She dumped the shoes out, intending to use the box to capture the bug. She hurried back to the bed, and was dismayed to see that the insect was gone.

She couldn’t relax. Not now. She began to furiously tear the remaining sheets off the bed. She looked under it, then on her dresser, and began to, frankly, tear her room apart in search.

There was a light knocking on the bedroom door. Mom poked her head in. “Everything okay in…” Mom trailed off, a frown twisting her face as she saw that state of Becky’s room.

Becky flushed. “There was a bug,” she managed.

“Becky—seriously?” said Mom. “Clean this up. It’s just a bug. I’m sure you’ll survive.” And with one more dour look, Mom left, closing the door behind her.

Becky’s chest heaved with her panting.

Mom was right. She was clearly overreacting. In fact, she was being ridiculous. It was just a bug. It had been in close contact with her skin, and hadn’t caused her any harm.

As Becky sheepishly began to return her clothing to her dresser and her books to her shelves, she wondered if she was imagining the continuing twitching in her gut, the itchiness of her loins, and the general crawling sensation that covered her skin.

-

It kept happening. The bright purple bugs popped up out of nowhere. It was maddening, and making her feel paranoid in her own bedroom. She had failed to catch or kill even one. The one occasion that she had dragged Charlie into her room to eradicate the odd little beetles, he had been able to find nothing. They put some insecticide in the corners but it didn’t seem to be doing any good.

Her mother treated her like she was being childish. “They obviously haven’t hurt you,” she chided over dinner that evening. “I don’t see one bite on your skin.”

It was true. Becky wasn’t getting any bug bites. But she could still feel them crawling on her the moment her guard was down. Once she swore she saw one in her hair!

She had even tried sleeping on the couch in the living room, but the bugs seemed to follow her. She felt as though she herself was infested. She thought of talking to Dad, but he was a very serious man, and might even suggest she was committed.

Maybe she should be.

It was Charlie who convinced her she wasn’t going mad.

“I actually did see one,” he mentioned over breakfast one morning. “In the toilet of all places. Huge. I flushed it.” He gave a cheeky grin.

Mom made a face. “Maybe it’s time to call the exterminator...”

“Please,” said Becky in relief.

“Eat your fruit,” Mom chided.

Mom had been pushing fruit and vegetables on Becky any time she could, always marketing them as though she was getting paid to. It wasn’t as though she discouraged Becky from eating other things. Becky supposed it was Mom’s polite way of trying to address the elephant in the room.

Becky’s increasing weight.

Her stomach was really starting to stick out. It was sort of embarrassing. She had always been skinny, and moderately athletic. The stomach weight just looked bad on her slim frame.

Making a note to try to hit the gym that week, Becky shoved some more eggs and bacon onto her plate. She spent the day studying, tutoring, and volunteering at the local hospital—volunteer work looked good on college applications—before having a late dinner with some friends, and all but collapsing to bed when she got home. To her disappointment, there was no sighting of her father.

Becky tossed and turned most of the night, her stomach really lurching now. Her indigestion had not improved, only exacerbating with time. She had to belch almost hourly, and her gut felt as though it was constantly bubbling. She wondered if she was suffering a medical issue, but pushed the idea aside to address later, when she actually had free time to. In her discomfort, she tossed and turned, fidgeting, and frequently waking from her sleep. Her latest drift into consciousness presented her with her pitch-black room and the familiarly horrifying sensation of something crawling—on her groin!

Becky scrambled madly. She threw off her sheets and managed to turn on her bedside lamp, before shoving down her shorts and panties. To her horror, one of the foul insects was crawling about in the groin of her panties. “Shit!” she cried in disgust.