Slugs 1 - Alternate Ending (Male) (Patreon)

Story Directory: $5 Patrons
Story Directory: $10 Patrons
Story Directory: $20 Patrons

Story Schedule

Previous

-

When Ted came to, his uncle was hoovering over him.

“Ted—how are you feeling?” said Gary nervously.

Ted looked down at himself. He was sprawled on Ted’s living room couch and was stunned to see that his midsection was flat again. He ran his hands up his torso, flooded with relief. Had it all been a dream?

“… wasn’t sure how to get you out of there,” Gary was saying. “I’m just relieved they were like normal slugs—a huge aversion to salt. You looked ready to burst. I was actually worried you would. Thankfully I was able to get you here in time to pump those things out of you… Well, most of them.”

Upon closer examination of his midsection, Ted noticed a small mound just beneath his navel. Ted touched it, and it squirmed, causing Ted’s body to shudder.

“It’s a stubborn little thing. I did my best, but maybe if we try—”

“Thanks Uncle Gary.” Ted embraced his uncle, his body trembling with sobs. The nightmare was over. At least for the most part. What harm could one slug do? Ted released an awkward chuckle, embarrassed by his show of emotion. Gary lightly patted his back, and the two separated.

Ted excused himself and went to the bathroom, where he examined himself in Gary’s full-length mirror. He noticed that his bottom was still much plumper than it had been before his body’s strange invasion by the slugs. Ted self-consciously tugged down the back of his shirt. He also noticed that he still had small but full breasts on his chest. Ted slid his hands up to cup the mounds, and he gulped.

But his hand soon returned to the small lump on his abdomen. He grunted as it wiggled inside him. Strangely, his dick twitched, and he had to grip the wall to try to get a hold of himself.

There was a knock on the door. “You okay in there?” Gary called.

“Yeah,” Ted called back. He would be.

-

Ted’s life returned to normal as he supposed it could be following the strange situation with the slugs. Ted got a job at a nearby call center, and the first thing he did with his new income was move out of his basement apartment. The one-bedroom that he found wasn’t too expensive. It was on the second floor, small but cozy.

Ted lost his appetite for going out, socializing, or doing much of anything anymore. His appetite for food, however, surged. He also found that he was abundantly tired most of the time. Between his cubicle-job and his reclusive behavior, he had gotten quite sedentary. Ted found himself mostly lounging around his apartment on his days off, playing video games and snacking continuously. He would groan and redden when the slug squirmed, but it was sluggish and infrequent, and it didn’t bother him too much.

One day Ted’s doorbell rang.

Ted ignored it at first, but the ringing persisted. Climbing off the couch, he opened the entrance door. “Uncle Gary,” he said in surprise.

“Ted,” said Gary, wearing a surprised expression of his own. “You—changed.”

Ted shrugged. “I got a little out of shape.” Ted tugged up his sweats, but his plump bottom was still bulging over the back waistband. His ass had gotten round, fat—like Nicki Minaj’s—only his was real. His chest had gotten plumper, the mounds there resembling B-cups now. His stomach had gotten fatter and rounder, protruding like a massive beer belly. It was soft but plump. As the slug within squirmed, Ted gripped at it, clenching his teeth as sweat formed on his brow. He resembled someone who was six months pregnant.

“I don’t think that’s all it is, Ted,” said Gary. “I’m glad I came to check up on you. I feared something like this would happen.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The slug, Ted. It’s growing. The only way stop it—”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Ted cut Gary off. “It’s fine.”

“Ted, I know this sounds crazy, but you’re going to have to give birth to it. It’s gotten so big, there’s no other way.”

Ted stared at his uncle. He wanted him to give birth?. Uncle Gary and his looney ideas, Ted thought, lightly shaking his head. “Uncle Gary, I’m a man, and I’m not pregnant, for that matter. It’s just a parasite.” Ted absently rubbed his belly.

“But the slug—”

“Yes, I put on some weight. Thanks for rubbing it in my face. Do you know how crazy you sound?”

“But Ted—”

“You should go, Gary,” said Ted firmly. He just wanted to put the whole thing behind him.

Gary frowned, but left.

-

Over the following weeks, Ted ignored his uncle’s phone calls. He continued to lounge at home stuffing food into his mouth every spare moment of every day. His paychecks went towards donuts, pizzas, tubs of ice cream, chocolate cookie sandwiches, burger deliveries, cartons of Chinese food, and boxes of macaroni and cheese. Playing video games had become inconvenient to his eating habits—it was easier to keep his hands free—so Ted took to watching movies and TV shows during the day. He was barely conscious of how truly poor his eating habits had become. He was just vaguely aware that he was getting really out of shape.

When Ted had to, he hauled himself to his cubicle at work. He ignored the odd looks people were giving him lately as he tugged down the front of his too-small shirt.

“Hello, Ms. Brown?” said Ted into his earpiece, his belly perched in his lap. “If I could just have a moment of your time, I wanted to ask you if you’re satisfied with you cable service and—aahhh…ohhhhhh…” he groaned as the slug started to squirm again.

He gripped at his belly, the whole mass of fat seeming to be shifting, twisting, and moving as he grunted. “Oh god…” It had gotten larger. Stronger. Ted hated to admit that Uncle Gary had been right. “Nnnggghh…ahhh…I’m sorry Ms. Brown, I have to go,” Gary ended the call. “Hahhhh…hahhhhh…” he struggled to catch his breath. Finally, the slug relaxed. Ted rubbed his hands up and down his belly where diamonds of skin had formed between the buttons of his shirt. He stared for a while.

Ripping off his head piece, Ted heaved himself up from his chair. He looked due with twins by then. How had he managed to ignore it for so long?

Ted waddled off towards the exit of the call center, ignoring as his boss inquired about where he was going.

Gripping the underside of his belly, Ted made his way to the parking garage. He may have been imagining it, but his stomach felt as though it was getting tighter and tighter. He was drenched in sweat by then, his shirt pasted to him, and stretching tighter over his plump stomach. Slowly, it slid upwards to reveal his swollen, throbbing belly button.

Ted finally made it into his car and collapsed in the driver’s seat, his belly pressing against the steering wheel. His pulled his keys out of his pocket, but they slipped free from his trembling fingers. They hit the floor, by the gas pedal. He tried to reach for it, but didn’t nearly have the flexibility to achieve even that. And the pressure was surging, fully occupying his belly. “Nnggghhhhh…” The slug squirmed again. He didn’t think he would make it home.

The mass of his belly was low now, very low on his torso, and very large. His breasts looked bloated rounder, full B-cups, and his ass was plumper than ever beneath him.

Somehow, Ted managed to prop his feet up on the dashboard. Releasing a hoarse cry, he pushed, and struggled, and bared down as much as he could. Though squashed beneath his belly, his dick was hard and tenting against the front of his pants. His face was red and pouring sweat, his body trembling as he pushed harder and harder, until he felt something start to crown, start to push right out of him, tenting out the back of his pants as Ted grunted and trembled and tears streamed down his cheeks.

Then strangely, horribly, whatever had begun to exit retracted right back into Ted, popping back into his anus as Ted gasped, and stared at his low, plump, pregnant belly. Gripping the mass, Ted tried pushing again, but he didn’t even come close this time. He was out of energy. Now the buttons of his shirt were popping off, his belly surging more, rising like dough on his lap. His breasts wiggled as his body was racked with sobs. “I can’t get it out,” he cried aloud, his hands moving up to hold his sweaty face. He had waited too long. It was too big. Ted gasped for breath, his car seeming to shrink around him.

Resigned, Ted lowered his legs and slumped forward. He took to rubbing circles on his belly, before his hand shifted to stroking his tangerine-sized belly button, as it distended, and twitched, and his dick hardened more.

What the fuck, was all Ted could think as he continued to absently stroke. His soft belly continued to heave, and throb, and rise, and squash against him. What the fuck am I going to do?

Sequel