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Nest, Part 3 - Male Version
🕑 Added 2021-11-27 17:24:25 +0000 UTCStory Directory: $5 Patrons
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Note: This is a male version of Nest.
Summary: Connor is pregnant with large alien beetles which crawl in an out of him at their whim and are forming a nest inside his abdomen. Contains: Male: belly expansion, breast expansion, unbirthing, and more...
-
When Connor lay in bed that night, and tried to sleep, he could feel the bugs crawling all over his body, rather freely now, with a sense of ownership. Even when he brushed and swatted at them, they could hardly be bothered by his less than welcoming treatment.
He tossed and turned, seeking a comfortable position. But by morning time, he wasn’t even close to well-rested.
In a daze, he put on some shorts and a baggy T-shirt.
During his ride to school, he realized his mistake.
The bugs made thick, crawling rivers along the inside of his thighs. They were so active, his hole felt as though it was pulsing. Once he got to school, he sped off to a bathroom with his gym bag, and pulled on a pair of running tights, then pulled his shorts back on over them.
He groaned, unsure of whether this was at all an improvement. Now the bugs forced themselves along, uncomfortably dragging against his legs, while partially squashed by the tights. If anyone paid attention, they would see moving bulges along his legs, and a thickening lump at his ass.
But he didn’t have any other options. It hid the actual bugs, and he didn’t have any baggier pants, not with him. Breathing heavily, Connor made his way to class.
His belly was only getting tighter. There was a continuous twittering sensation within it. He swore, he looked as though he was seven months pregnant. It was just awful.
He tried his best to hold the bugs in during an essay. He made an impromptu diaper out of some plastic bags he’d gotten in the janitor’s closet. He could feel the bugs piling up between his hole and the plastic, against it, trying to force their way free.
Instead the pressure in his gut surged uncomfortably, until he had to pause several times to cup his lurching stomach.
His insides churned visibly. He was just so tight, so full, it felt as though the things were struggling, and fighting against his drawn skin.
He swore he saw a knot rolling along his flesh, the outline of a particularly fat insect. He felt like he might be sick.
Connor found himself again racing through the remainder of his school work, before excusing himself, and racing to the nearest bathroom.
He jerked down his pants and the plastic as he dropped down on the toilet. He felt a clump of bugs plop heavily out of him, before they began to just sprinkle down into the water, their movements against his hole making his shudder.
Some crawled along his thighs, up his belly, even his chest. He just twitched and pushed, trying to get as much as he could out. There was another plop into the toilet. He sighed when his stomach finally stopped cramping.
Flicking stray insects off his torso, Connor leaned back against the toilet. He lifted his backpack from the ground and began to rummage through it.
He wasn’t sure why he decided to do it at that moment, but he pulled a large bottle of maple syrup out of his backpack, opened the cap, and began to suck it down.
His belly heaved with his long sucks, some syrup even dripping down his chin and rolling along his chest, leaving sticky sweet trails.
He may have been imagining it—but he felt an abrupt decrease in activity. Connor sucked more and more, indulging, but also experimenting. The bugs on his thighs seemed to trail back inside him. The others, already packed in his stomach, seemed to move more slowly now, almost lethargically. He felt a sense of contentedness. Were they feeding on the syrup? Was it calming the frenzy?
Connor lowered the bottle from his lips, slumped back, and sighed, taking advantage of the slight reprieve from discomfort and squirming.
He couldn’t afford to keep having these issues. There was no way he would get through the remainder of his exams, let alone the start of college, like this.
He needed a permanent solution. And he knew that meant a professional consult.
Still feeling too mortified to visit the family physician, Connor realized his next best option. After all, he had some brilliant classmates.
-
That evening, Connor made a call to one of his classmates.
“Reyna, I really wanted to talk to you,” said Connor breathlessly that evening. He absently rubbed his hand up and down his bloated belly.
Reyna sounded skeptic on the other line. “You’ve hardly even talked to me the whole semester. What about your studies?” She added sarcastically. Connor could practically hear Reyna rolling her eyes on the other line.
“I’m sorry, Rey. You know I can be really one-track-minded,” said Connor, growing desperate. Reyna was the smartest person he knew, and the girl was absolutely obsessed with the biomedical field. “Hang out with me. Let me make it up to you.”
There was a pause on the other line. “You sound like you want something.”
There was no denying it. It would be abundantly clear the moment Reyna spotted him anyway. “Yes, well, I…seem to have run into a medical issue.”
“Connor…” Reyna reproved.
“A very unique one,” Connor insisted. “Honestly, this is the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard seen. It will be worth your while.”
There was a long pause. When Reyna finally spoke, she still sounded dubious. “When are you free?”
“My parents will be out of town all weekend, and Charlie’s gonna be working,” Connor breathed in relief.
“See you tomorrow, then,” said Reyna. “I hope you have something good for me.” With that, she hung up.
Connor lowered the phone.
The bugs were really active again. It felt as though they were swarming, squishing, pushing out at his stuffed insides. He whimpered, and grasped for the syrup bottle on his nightstand. He took several generous gulps, but it only calmed down the bugs by a marginal degree.
Then Connor’s hand and the syrup bottle were moving. He didn’t know why he did it, or quite what he was thinking, but he brought the spout of the syrup bottle down between his thighs, spread his legs wider, and tilted the bottle until it made contact with his anus.
He groaned as the sticky fluid began to pour inside of him. With his free hand, he hastily shoved a pillow under his ass, lifting it up slightly, so gravity would aid the syrup through his passage. “Ohhh…” he groaned, face reddening. Vaguely, he began to wonder what the hell he was doing? But there was a marked decease in activity, the insects inside him feeling as though they had abruptly frozen in place.
There were stragglers on his thighs and the bed around him, which rapidly crawled back into his hole, causing him to groan as his belly tightened. But those, too, became still once inside him. Whimpering in disgust, Connor continued to pour.
He finished the rest of the bottle. It had been half-full. His belly felt bloated, full, and heavy, and as he encountered the mirror, he couldn’t believe how much he had grown, how huge he had gotten in only a matter of days, his belly resembling a pregnancy, stretching him as it pushed away from his body. The sheer mass of bugs that he could be harboring just made him grimace in revulsion. But he tried not to think about it. Instead, he tried to appreciate the complete inactivity, no bugs scrambling in or out of him. It was their first episode of complete motionlessness since this whole thing had started. So he decided to take advantage of it, and relax.
He rummaged in his dresser for the butt plug to keep the bugs, and the syrup, inside him.
-
Connor awoke the next morning, thighs spread, hips twitching, and belly lurching. He became abruptly aware that the bugs were back to their vicious squirming, though fortunately, it wasn’t too frenzied. Connor absently held the side of his abdomen.
He had been up most of the night, musing about it, when he should have been sleeping. But he couldn’t help thinking that it had been the perfect condition to be test-taking, the insects no longer distracting him or escaping his body. Before his next exam, he could try the syrup treatment again, gross as it was. It was time to step up his grades.
Connor removed the plug, but found no sticky syrup residue. As he pushed himself up into a sitting position, a loud belch escaped his throat, one that tasted like maple syrup and smelled like it too. It reminded him that he might want to stock up on more syrups, honeys, icings, and other sweet, squeezable substances.
As he stood up, another long belch escaped him. It seemed he was having a resurgence of gassiness, but at least he didn’t have school that day. Besides that, he was still new to—well, to being fat—and it was nice to have a break from feeling self-conscious.
Connor pulled on a baggy shirt and left his room. He had woken up late, which meant Charlie and his parents were already gone, and he didn’t have to be discreet about his bump. He belched a few more times, scratched his side, then sat down on the couch. He idly massaged his bloated flesh, trying to kneed out the gassiness, and trying to ignore the strengthening lurches of movement.
Eventually he couldn’t put off his feelings of hunger any longer, and heaved himself up from the couch. His appetite had surged in the past few days. Connor made his way to the kitchen, looking around to see if his family had left any breakfast for him.
There was a modest plate of eggs and bacon in the oven, with a slice of toast. It was almost too modest, not the generous portion of food he was accustomed to his mother dishing out for him.
“But I’ve gained weight,” Connor murmured sardonically as he pulled the plate out.
He demolished the food in only a moment or two. Afterwards, he breathed heavily, uncertain of why he felt so anxious.
The bugs had not calmed, but were growing more frantic in their movements. It was clear that their hunger had not been satisfied. And neither had his.
Connor opened the refrigerator. There was a large mixing bowl of leftover mashed potatoes and gravy from the night before. Mom had intentionally made too much, knowing that Connor and Charlie were unlikely to cook while she was gone for the weekend.
Connor pulled out the bowl. He got a spoon from a drawer.
Not bothering to sit down, he set the bowl on the counter, and began to dig in, shoving spoon after spoon into his mouth, gulping it down. It was soft and slithered easily down his throat, lurching into his stomach. Though his belly was already bloated, he felt a weird contentedness in the discomfort. Connor scraped the bowl clean, then sighed, leaning his hands on the counter. The bugs had slowed down, almost placated.
Despite it, he found himself wandering back to the fridge to see what else his mother had left.
There was a massive container of macaroni and cheese. Connor picked it up and stuck it under his arm, allowing the cover to topple to the floor. He began to dig in with the same spoon as before, absently munching and swallowing as he continued to look through the fridge, barely conscious that he had already gotten something.
There was pizza leftover from the previous day’s lunch. Meat lovers with extra cheese. Six extra-large slices sat cold in the box. Charlie had ordered it, but had gotten distracted two slices in. Managing to grab the pizza box while closing the fridge door with his foot, Connor brought his bounty back to the kitchen table. He dug in voraciously, food getting everywhere, but the vast majority of it getting down his throat.
He was breathless by the time he finished both the pizza and the macaroni. He almost went back to the fridge for something else, when he stopped, really taking inventory of himself. He looked at the food sprinkled around him, at his dirty clothes and arms—at some point he had given up on the spoon and started shoving macaroni into his face with his bare hands.
His stomach gurgled audibly and another loud belch escaped from his throat.
“Oh god,” Connor breathed, clutching his stomach. He shook his head, feeling absolutely disgusted with himself.
There was a knocking on the front door, and there couldn’t have been a worse time for it. Rather stunned, Connor wiped some gooey cheese off his face (if anything, just smearing more), before turning around and numbly making his way towards the living room.
