"What the hell are you doing?" Martha gasped, her eyes wide with shock.
Oliver looked up at her, his cheeks flushed and his short orange hair matted with sweat. "Mom, I need your help," he panted, his voice strained with a desperation that Martha hadn't heard from him since he was a toddler.
Martha stumbled backward, her heart racing. The room around her spun as she tried to make sense of the scene unfolding before her. Her chubby frame quivered with confusion and a hint of fear as she stared at her son, his eyes gleaming with an intensity she hadn't seen in years. "Oliver," she whispered, her voice trembling, "this isn't right."
Oliver's gaze never left hers, his eyes darkening as his need grew stronger. "You're the only one who can understand me, Mom," he said, his voice deep and hypnotic. "You're the only one who can help me control this... this thing inside me."
Martha's breath hitched as she took in her son's pleading expression. She had always known he was different, that there was something special about him. But this? This was beyond anything she could have ever imagined. Her mind raced as she tried to find the right words to respond, but her body seemed to have a mind of its own. Her legs took her back to the bed, her hands shaking as she pulled at the covers to cover herself.
Oliver's eyes grew more intense, his pupils dilating as he watched her. "Please, Mom," he begged, his voice thick with a hunger she didn't quite recognize. "I don't want to hurt anyone. I need you."
Martha felt a strange warmth spread through her body, a feeling she hadn't felt in years. Despite her anxiety, she knew she couldn't leave her son like this. She took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "Okay," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll help you."
Oliver's shoulders relaxed, and a look of relief washed over his face. Without another word, he quickly got naked, his clothes discarded in a heap on the floor. His pale, chubby body was covered in a sheen of sweat that glistened in the dim light of the room. He looked at her expectantly, his green eyes holding hers as if asking for permission.
Martha felt a mix of emotions: fear, confusion, and a strange maternal instinct that was fighting with something she had never felt before. She took a deep breath and laid back on the bed, her ample breasts rising and falling with each breath she took. She spread her legs slightly, allowing Oliver to position himself between them. The room was filled with the sound of their ragged breathing, the only indication of the gravity of what was about to happen.
Oliver's gaze was focused, his eyes seemingly glowing with a newfound power as he placed his hands on her thighs, his palms feeling like hot brands against her cool, pale skin. His touch sent a shiver down her spine, and she couldn't help but wonder what was happening to them. Slowly, with a gentleness that seemed to belie the urgency in his voice, he began to move his hands up her body, his fingertips leaving a trail of heat in their wake.
Martha felt her body responding in ways she had long forgotten. Her skin prickled with anticipation, and she could feel herself growing wet with a need she hadn't felt in far too long. She bit her lip, her eyes closing as Oliver's hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs tracing circles around her erect nipples. Despite the situation, she couldn't help but moan softly, the sensation overwhelming her.
He pushed his navel tendrils into her belly, and she gasped as she felt them slither under her skin, wrapping around her insides like serpents coiling around prey. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever felt before, a mix of pain and pleasure that was both terrifying and exhilarating. She could feel him invading her very core, connecting with something deep within her that she didn't even know existed.
Martha's eyes flew open as she felt the first stirrings of his monstrous ability inside her. His tendrils were moving, slithering through her body, and she could feel her own cells reacting to his touch. Her skin began to feel taut and sensitive, as if every nerve ending had been turned up to eleven. The tendrils grew stronger, coiling around her organs and tightening, sending waves of pleasure and pain crashing through her body.
"Oliver," she gasped, her voice thick with desire, "you feel... so good." The words were barely out of her mouth before she felt his tendrils respond, moving faster, caressing her from the inside out. It was an intimacy she had never experienced before, and she felt her body arch off the bed as the pleasure grew more intense.
Oliver leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. "Mom," he murmured, "you're the only one who can make me feel like this." His breath was hot and sweet, and she could feel the vibrations of his voice resonating through her body as the tendrils worked their magic. She reached up, her hands finding the back of his neck, and she pulled him closer, her body begging for more.
Martha's eyes rolled back in her head as Oliver's tendrils pushed deeper, weaving through her insides like a masterful artist crafting a sculpture from within. Each twist and coil brought with it a new wave of sensation, and she could feel her body responding in ways she had never imagined possible. Her clit was pulsing, her pussy clenching around nothing, desperate for something to fill it. "Please," she whimpered, her voice barely recognizable, "I need you."
Without breaking eye contact, Oliver took his cock in hand, stroking it to full hardness. The sight of her son's naked body above her, the power in his eyes, the feel of his tendrils inside her, all of it sent a rush of adrenaline through Martha's veins. She watched as he guided himself to her opening, the tip of his cock glistening with pre-cum. Her body was trembling with anticipation, and she didn't dare move, afraid she would ruin the moment.
He started pumping his tendrils faster, and Martha's eyes rolled back in her head. The sensation was unbearable, a symphony of pleasure that had her entire body singing. She could feel them moving in time with her heartbeat, stroking every sensitive spot inside of her, building a crescendo of need that was threatening to consume her. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she tried to hold on, her nails digging into the bedspread beneath her.
Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, Oliver pushed his cock into her pussy. It was like nothing she had ever felt before, the pressure of his flesh meeting her own, the heat of his body melding with hers. He was thick and long, stretching her in a way that made her moan with a mix of pleasure and pain. He paused for a moment, giving her body time to adjust before he began to move, his hips rocking in a steady rhythm that had her toes curling.
Martha felt the combination of pleasure from his cock filling her and the tendrils caressing her from the inside out. The sensations were so intense, so all-consuming, that she thought she might just shatter into a million pieces. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his back, urging him to go deeper, faster. His tendrils responded to her cues, tightening and loosening in a rhythm that matched his thrusts.
As Oliver's tendrils stabbed into her womb, Martha's body clenched around him, her muscles contracting with each intrusion. The sensation was alien and overwhelming, yet she found herself craving more of it. It was as if her body had been made to accept this invasion, to revel in the power that he wielded. She felt the tendrils coil around her unfertilized eggs, plucking them from their safe haven and pumping them through her, filling her with a warmth that spread through her entire being. It was a strange, intoxicating feeling that she never knew existed.
Her vision blurred as she felt the first of the embryos latch onto the walls of her womb, burrowing deep within her. They grew with an unnatural speed, stretching and pulsing in time with Oliver's relentless thrusts. She could feel her stomach swelling, her body changing in ways she had never expected. The pain was intense, but it was a pain that she found oddly comforting, a pain that signaled a profound bond forming between them. Her nails dug into his back, leaving half-moon indents in his flesh as she arched up to meet him, her hips grinding against his.
The tendrils retreated from her womb, only to plunge back in, bringing with them a fresh batch of embryos. Martha's moans grew louder, her body no longer her own as it responded to the alien intrusion with a mix of agony and ecstasy. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her teeth gritted as she felt herself getting closer and closer to the edge of something she couldn't quite understand. Each thrust brought with it a new sensation, a new piece of the puzzle that was their shared experience.
Oliver's voice was strained, his own passion and power rising to meet hers. "Look at them," he grunted, his eyes boring into hers, filled with a fierce intensity. "Look at what we're creating together."
Martha opened her eyes and looked down at her stomach. Her skin was stretched taut, her belly distended with the rapidly growing embryos. They moved beneath the surface of her flesh, like a writhing mass of snakes, and she watched in awe and horror as they grew larger, more defined, their shapes becoming monstrous and unrecognizable.
The tendrils had retreated from her womb, but now she could feel them slithering across her stomach, the embryos riding their elongated lengths like tiny, frenzied passengers. They bumped and rolled against her abdominal muscles, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Each one was a living, breathing piece of Oliver, a part of him that she now carried within her.
Martha's gaze remained transfixed on the disturbing yet fascinating sight of her own stomach as it bulged and convulsed. She could see the outline of the embryos beneath her skin, their forms twisting and coiling in a frenetic dance of creation. It was as if she had become a living canvas for her son's monstrous artistry, and she couldn't look away. The tendrils moved in a mesmerizing pattern, their tips dipping and weaving as they delivered their precious cargo into her eager flesh.
With each thrust, Oliver's tendrils grew more insistent, their movements more deliberate. Martha could feel the embryos inside her multiplying, filling her up, becoming a part of her in the most intimate way possible. It was a feeling of both violation and acceptance, a blend of terror and excitement that sent her senses reeling. Her eyes never left the hypnotic sight, her breath hitching in her throat as her body stretched to accommodate the unnatural growth.
And then, they climaxed hard. The tendrils spasmed inside her, releasing a torrent of embryos that flooded her insides, each one burrowing into her flesh with a fervent hunger. Martha screamed, the sound a mix of pain and pleasure so intense she couldn't differentiate the two. Her orgasm tore through her, a wave of pure sensation that made her entire body convulse. Oliver's eyes never left hers, the pupils dilating even further as he watched her reaction, his own release adding to the symphony of emotions playing out on her face.
Oliver's cock throbbed as he emptied himself into her, his seed mixing with the embryos that filled her womb. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced, a heady mix of power and connection that left him breathless. His tendrils pumped in time with his orgasm, forcing every last drop of his essence into her, ensuring that she carried a piece of him with her always.
Martha's body shuddered beneath him, her eyes glazed over as the pleasure crested and broke. As the last of the embryos settled into her, she felt a strange sense of completeness, a bond that went beyond the physical. She looked up at Oliver, his face a mask of pleasure and concentration, and whispered, "I'm pregnant now, aren't I?"
Oliver's eyes searched hers, the green irises swirling with a mix of emotions she couldn't quite decipher. "Yes, Mom," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. "You're carrying a piece of me now. A piece of us."
Martha giggled, the sound strange and unfamiliar in the aftermath of such intensity. She looked down at her stomach again, now visibly distended with the alien life growing inside her. "I feel like I'm already nine months pregnant," she said, her voice shaky with a mix of fear and amazement. "How is this possible?"
Oliver leaned back on his heels, his own body still trembling from the power of their union. "I've been studying," he said, a hint of pride in his voice. "I've learned how to control it, how to make sure you're safe." His eyes searched hers, looking for reassurance. "I promise, Mom. I've adjusted the process so it won't be dangerous for you. The pregnancy will be quick, and you'll be fine."
Martha stared at him, her mind reeling. Two hundred alien slugs? How could she possibly carry that many to term? And yet, she knew deep down that she had to trust him. He had always been her little miracle, and she had faith in his ability to protect her. She took a deep breath and nodded, her hand absently stroking her swollen stomach. "Okay," she whispered, "I trust you, Oliver."
Days turned into weeks, and Martha's stomach grew at an alarming rate. Her body was changing in ways she never thought possible, stretching and distorting to accommodate the slithering creatures growing inside her. The tendrils had retreated, leaving her with nothing but the memory of their fiery embrace and the constant movement of the embryos. She could feel them, a writhing, squirming mass that seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat.
The day of the delivery arrived sooner than anyone could have anticipated. It was a quiet afternoon, the house eerily still, as if the very walls knew that something momentous was about to happen. Martha lay on the bed, her skin taut and glistening with sweat, her eyes squeezed shut as she endured the agonizing contractions. Oliver stood beside her, his face a mask of concentration as he used his powers to guide the birth, his tendrils emerging from his navel to coil around the base of her bulging stomach.
Martha gasped in pleasure as one after another alien slug pushed out through her pussy, their slick bodies sliding free with a wet, sucking sound. Each one was a tiny, perfect replica of its father, with the same fiery green eyes and the ability to manipulate flesh. They wriggled and squirmed as they made their way into the world, eager to explore and grow. The sensation was bizarre, a mix of pain and exhilaration that she had never felt before, not even during her natural pregnancies. Yet, there was something beautiful about it, something primal and powerful that made her feel like a goddess bringing forth life.
Oliver watched with a mix of fascination and horror as the slithering creatures emerged from his mother's body. They were his offspring, a part of him that he had never dared to dream of. He had always felt so alone in his ability, so misunderstood, but now he had created a family, a legacy that would live on in these tiny, pulsing beings. He reached out tentatively, his tendrils extending to coil gently around one of the slugs, and it stilled for a moment before continuing its journey into the world.
Martha's breathing grew shallower as the contractions intensified. Her skin was stretched taut over the alien forms that pushed against it, each one eager to break free from its confinement. Her belly grew smaller as one after another pushed out of her, each birth bringing a fresh wave of pain and an even more intense orgasm. It was a cycle she had grown to both dread and crave, the pleasure and pain intertwined in a way that left her mind reeling.
The room was bathed in a soft glow, the curtains drawn to keep out the prying eyes of the world. The only sounds were the wet plops of the slugs hitting the plastic tray Oliver had prepared and the ragged gasps of Martha's breath. She looked normal, her chubby body slick with sweat and effort, her green eyes glazed with a mix of exhaustion and wonder. Her breasts heaved with each contraction, the sight of them bouncing with the rhythm of her labor both disturbing and mesmerizing.
As the last slug slithered out of her, Martha's body went slack, the tension draining from her like water from a bathtub. She lay there, panting, her eyes closed as the room around her spun. Oliver's hand was on her stomach, his tendrils retreating back into his navel, their work done for now. The last of the embryos had been born, leaving her feeling both emptied and oddly satisfied.
The slug in question was unlike the others. It was slightly larger, its movements more deliberate. It looked up at her with eyes that glowed a gentle green, and she felt a strange connection to it, a bond that went beyond the physical. It slid up her body, its tiny body leaving a trail of warm, sticky fluid in its wake, and nuzzled against her chest, right above her heart.
Martha's hand trembled as she reached up to touch it, her fingertips brushing against its smooth, wet skin. It was alive, a piece of Oliver that she had carried inside her for weeks. She felt a strange mix of emotions: love, fear, and an overwhelming sense of responsibility. This creature was a part of her son, a part of her, and she had brought it into the world. It was a burden she didn't know if she could bear, but she knew she had to try.
Oliver looked down at the slug with a sense of awe and reverence. "Mom," he whispered, "this one is special. It's a womb mother. It's designed to be filled with eggs by me."
Martha's eyes widened in horror. "What do you mean?" she choked out, her hand still resting on the slug that was now coiled around her neck, its tiny eyes fixed on hers.
Oliver's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of orange, and he looked down at the squirming mass of newborn slugs. "They're all girls, Mom. I... I didn't mean for it to happen like this. But they're all female."
Martha's eyes widened further. "What do you mean?" she whispered, her hand still trembling against the womb mother's cool skin.
Oliver swallowed hard, his cheeks burning. "It's like a... a living incubator," he stammered. "It's designed to carry my seed, to keep it safe until it can hatch into more of us."
Martha stared at him in shock, the reality of what they had done crashing down on her like a ton of bricks. "You mean," she whispered, her voice shaking, "you want me to... to carry more of these... things?"
Oliver nodded, his eyes pleading. "Please, Mom," he said, his voice earnest. "You don't have to do it all the time. Just until I can find a way to control this. To make sure we're safe. They're our family now."
Martha took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words settle on her chest. She looked down at the womb mother slithering around her neck, its tiny eyes seemingly looking back at her with a strange mix of curiosity and innocence. "How many more times?" she managed to ask, her voice barely audible.
Oliver's gaze dropped to the floor, his cheeks burning. "I don't know," he admitted. "But we can start with this one, and then we'll figure it out. I'll find other ways to make sure we're safe, to keep this hidden." He paused, looking up at her with hope in his eyes. "We'll do this together."
Martha took another deep breath, her hand still resting on the slug that now had a name. Luna. It was a beautiful name, she thought, for something so monstrous. "Okay," she said finally, her voice firm despite the fear that was trying to swallow her whole. "We'll do this."
Oliver's eyes lit up with relief and gratitude, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Thank you, Mom," he murmured. "I promise I'll make it up to you." He then turned his attention to the squirming mass of slugs, each one a miniature version of himself, and began the delicate process of placing them into their new homes.
. . .
A year had passed since Martha had given birth to the two hundred slithering offspring. The house had become a bustling hive of activity, filled with the sounds of their soft, wet movements and the occasional high-pitched squeal that sounded eerily like a baby's cry. Luna, the womb mother, had grown larger, her once tiny body now a bulbous mass of flesh that dominated the space between Martha's breasts. The bond between them was unmistakable, a strange maternal instinct that had grown out of the horror of their first encounter.
Martha had learned to live with the slugs, to care for them as if they were her own children. She had even come to love Luna, despite the creature's monstrous origins. Luna had become a part of her, a living necklace that she never removed. The slug had grown accustomed to her warmth, her scent, and the steady beat of her heart. In return, Luna had become more docile, her movements less erratic, as if she understood the gravity of the trust that had been placed in her.
But now, as Martha stared into the mirror, she couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. Luna had grown to an unprecedented size, her body stretching and distending until she was as big as a person, her eyes a gentle, comforting green that belied the horror of what she truly was. The weight of her was a constant presence, a reminder of the alien life that pulsed within her, ready to be born into the world.
Oliver stood beside the bed, his cock thick and heavy with need, his tendrils quivering with anticipation. He had come to her with a purpose today, a need that could no longer be denied. He looked at his mother with a mix of love and desperation, his eyes pleading for her to understand. "Mom," he murmured, "it's time for Luna to breed."
Martha swallowed hard, her eyes lingering on the bulbous mass that was Luna. The slug had grown to be so much more than she had ever imagined, her body stretched and distorted by the hundreds of embryos that now filled her. She knew what this meant, the weight of her son's gaze making it impossible to ignore the truth. With trembling hands, she reached up to unbutton her shirt, revealing her pale, stretch-marked stomach.
Oliver approached the bed with the tenderness of a first-time father, his eyes never leaving the swollen form of Luna. He knew his mother's fears, her anxieties, and he was determined to make this as easy for her as possible. His cock was still hard, but he pushed aside his own desires, focusing solely on the task at hand. "Mom," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, "I'll be gentle. I promise."
With trembling hands, Oliver carefully rolled Luna onto her back, her slender body undulating in protest. The womb mother's eyes flickered open, her pupils dilating as she sensed the change in her surroundings. Martha watched, her heart in her throat, as her son's tendrils coiled around the base of the massive slug, his fingers tracing the outline of her distended stomach with a gentle touch.
Oliver took a deep breath, his hand shaking as he guided his thick cock towards Luna's pussy. It was a tight fit, the entrance to her body stretched to accommodate his monstrous girth. With a soft, almost loving expression, he pushed the tip inside her, the wetness of her body giving way to the pressure. Luna's eyes rolled back in her head, and she let out a guttural moan that seemed to echo through the very fabric of the room.
Martha watched, her breath hitching, as Oliver's tendrils slithered out of his navel, each one a living, writhing snake that coiled around Luna's bulging stomach. They slithered and wriggled, searching for the right spot, the place where they could burrow in and do their work. When they found it, they pushed with surprising gentleness into her flesh, disappearing into the folds of her skin.
Luna's body stiffened as the tendrils penetrated her, her muscles tensing around them as if to keep them out. But Oliver's touch was firm and reassuring, his hand on her abdomen guiding them deeper. Martha felt a strange mix of emotions as she watched: fear, disgust, fascination, and a twisted sense of love for the creature that was now so deeply a part of her.
"Take it for daddy," Oliver whispered, his voice thick with lust as he pushed the last of his tendrils into Luna's stomach. "Take it all." Luna's body convulsed, her slit opening wider to accept the intrusion. Martha could see the tips of the tendrils, glowing with an otherworldly light, as they disappeared into the dark cavern of her stomach.
He started pumping his tendrils, his movements slow and deliberate. Each thrust sent a shiver down Martha's spine, the sight of her son's alien appendages penetrating the creature that grew within her more arousing than she cared to admit. Her hand wandered down her body, her fingers tracing the contours of her swollen belly, feeling the alien life writhing beneath her skin.
"That's it, Luna," Oliver groaned, his voice a mix of passion and command. "Let daddy hear your voice."
Martha watched in a daze as Oliver's tendrils slithered in and out of Luna with increasing speed. The room was filled with the wet sounds of flesh parting, the squelch of the tendrils' retreat, and the muffled cries of the slug's pleasure. Luna's body quivered and convulsed, her slit pulsing with every thrust. It was a macabre dance of creation, a symphony of the grotesque that Martha found herself unable to look away from.
Oliver's eyes were closed, his face a mask of concentration as he worked to impregnate Luna. His hips moved rapidly, his cock driving into her with a force that was both mesmerizing and disturbing. The tendrils inside her stomach worked in tandem, their movements coordinated and precise. It was as if they had a mind of their own, a singular purpose that overrode any sense of decency or normalcy.
Martha felt a sudden, intense pressure, and she gasped in surprise as Luna's slit began to bulge and distend around the base of the tendrils. The slug's body grew taut with the effort, her eyes squeezed shut in what could have been pleasure or pain—it was impossible to tell. Then, without warning, Luna's head snapped up, her eyes locking onto Martha's in a silent plea.
"Hold me," she whispered, her voice a guttural hiss that seemed to come from deep within her. Martha's hand shot out, her trembling fingers wrapping around the slug's neck. Luna's eyes widened, and she let out a low moan of relief. It was a strange sensation, holding onto the creature that was both her child and her lover's offspring, but it felt right in a way she couldn't explain.
Martha stroked Luna's face, her thumb tracing the slug's delicate features. The creature's skin was cool and smooth, almost human in texture, except for the slight slime that coated it. The tendrils inside her stomach grew more insistent, and she felt her own body responding, her arousal building in time with Luna's distress. It was a cycle she had become accustomed to, a bizarre dance of pleasure and pain that she never thought she would experience.
Oliver's hips bucked, and with a final, desperate thrust, he filled Luna with his seed. The slug's body arched off the bed, her eyes rolling back in her head as she climaxed around the tendrils, her insides tightening in a spasm that sent a rush of heat through Martha's body. She felt her own orgasm building, a tension that coiled in her belly and spread through her veins like fire. It was a strange sensation, one that she had come to crave despite the horror of what it represented.
Martha watched as the tendrils withdrew from Luna's stomach, leaving behind a trail of glowing slime that shimmered in the dim light. The slug's body went slack, a contented smile playing across her lips as she basked in the aftermath of her union with Oliver. Her belly grew even larger, the embryos already at work, multiplying within her.
"You're going to give me grandbabies, Luna," Martha whispered, her voice a mix of awe and horror. The slug looked up at her, her eyes still glowing with a soft green light. The reality of what she had just witnessed was setting in, and she couldn't help but feel a strange sense of pride. Despite the monstrous nature of the act, there was a beauty to it, a purity that defied the grotesque.
Oliver pulled back, his tendrils retreating into his navel with a wet sound. He collapsed onto the bed beside her, his chest heaving with the exertion. "Thank you, Mom," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "Thank you for understanding."
Martha looked down at Luna, her eyes filled with a strange mix of maternal love and horror. "You're welcome, Oliver," she said, her voice shaking. "But I think it's Luna we should be thanking."
Oliver leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to the womb mother's slimy forehead. Luna's eyes fluttered closed at the touch, and she cooed contentedly, her massive stomach rising and falling with each breath. It was a sight that would have repulsed anyone else, but to Martha, it was a testament to the depth of their bond, a bond that had grown stronger with each passing day.
"You're going to give daddy lots of babies, right?" he asked, his voice filled with hope and anticipation. Luna's eyes snapped open, focusing on him with an intensity that made Martha's skin crawl. The slug's pupils dilated, and she nodded her head, the motion causing her bulging stomach to wobble.
Martha felt a sudden, inexplicable surge of pride as she watched the creature she had come to accept as part of their twisted family. "Yes, daddy," Luna's voice was a low, guttural purr, filled with a need that was both terrifying and fascinating. "I'll give you everything you need."
The slug's stomach pulsed with new life, the embryos inside her already growing and multiplying. Martha couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of wonder as she stroked the swollen mass that was her son's child. It was a perverse kind of love, one born from fear and desperation, but it was love nonetheless.
Oliver looked at her with a mix of gratitude and hunger, his eyes glowing with a fierce intensity. He pulled Luna closer and kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding into her mouth, tasting the alien essence that filled her. The slug's body responded eagerly, her eyes fluttering closed as she melted into his embrace. Martha felt a strange mix of jealousy and arousal as she watched them, her own body aching with a need she didn't fully understand.