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The Parasite, Part 5 - Male Version
🕑 Added 2018-04-27 16:37:08 +0000 UTC Story Directory: $5 PatronsStory Directory: $10 Patrons
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Summary: Following infection by an alien parasite, Charles begins to hear a commanding voice in his head that demands him to stuff his face with food, massage various body parts, insert edibles into his orifices, and partake in other unusual activities. Charless belly grows and grows as the parasite swells in consequence. Charless efforts to balance his busy work life with the frightening voice of the parasite proves to be disastrous. Contains: Belly expansion, breast expansion, possible egg-laying and more.
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As the days passed, Charles tried to be as compliant as possible. He preemptively stuffed himself before work and during his breaks. He could barely spare the energy it took to eat by mouth anymore. The voice seemed to far prefer food consumed via his anus, though it hardly made sense how he could survive in such a way.
Charles panted in bed one night, where he lay supine with his knees drawn up. His legs were spread wide, and he had just finished a large evening feeding, in hopes to stave off the voice for long enough that he could get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.
He grunted as he sat upright, his rounded belly squashing against his lap. It was getting larger and larger. Since hed just had a feeding, his belly was firm and tight. Charles absently rubbed his hand against the side of the mound. He looked as though he was eight months pregnant.
But as he tried to make sense of this, his mind went numb, as it usually did. As with the presence of the voice in his head, and the consumption of food via his anus, Charless localized weight gain was another thing he just didnt want to confront.
His face was flushed slightly and moist, errant strands of hair falling to stick to his forehead. He fidgeted somewhat to tug up his boxers. He could no longer see the waistband where it was jammed beneath his gut, and his eyes were drawn to how tight his tanktop now was at his midsection. His gaze shifted to the B-cup breasts he had developed, presently bulging against the neckline of his top. A line of actual cleavage was perched directly in his sight, and the mounds were so full and round, they certainly shouldnt have been attached to a male.
As Charles shifted, he groaned when the fabric of his tight shirt slid over his enlarged nipples. He took a shuddering breath, lightly shook his head, and cupped the underside of his belly.
With another grunt, Charles stood, his back twinging. He yelped at an unfamiliar sensation, and both his hands flew to his navel. What they encountered made his mouth fall open. His belly button had popped out. He stared and blankly rubbed the new protrusion.
This isnt normal. The thought crossed Charless mind. Even weight gain didnt result in that.
He allowed his hands to glide all over the swell of his low abdomen. He wasnt sure exactly when it had pushed out, no longer just some weight, but something independent, and blatant, that couldnt be dismissed as fat. It was starting to get heavy and uncomfortable walking around with it attached to him. When it was in the softer stages, it would bob somewhat, disharmonious with his body, until he stuffed himself all over again.
Maybe some sort of girdle? Charles supposed in mild panic, still perpetually addressing his symptoms and not the actual problem.
On some level, he still believed he was just imagining everything. The voice, the feedings, the rapidly increasing weightthere was no way any of it made sense if it wasnt imaginary.
And if all this was imagined, was it necessarily a bad thing? He wasnt a danger to himself or others. He was thriving at work.
Imagined, Charles mused aloud, as he made his way to the light switch. He noticed his gait was more swingy than usual, but he bit his lip, and elected to ignore it.
He turned the light off and sunk back into bed, closing his eyes, and continuing to run his hands over his imagined belly.
Mmmm said the voice. Lately it was quite pleased and encouraging. Almost loving. Soo good. You are a good host
Though the increasing eloquence could be a shock at times, it was also sort of comforting. Charles released a sigh as he drifted off. It was certainly a welcome alternative to the aggressive outbursts.
He could live with this.
-
When Charles was at work, he assumed his usual routine of diligent working intermingled with clandestine feedings, all while ignoring the stares, because those, too, were certainly just figments of his imagination.
He sat behind his desk that afternoon, attempting to read a file, and absently rubbing his legs together. He was getting antsy. Was it close to feeding time? Charles glanced at his watch. No, he had just done one twenty minutes ago.
Mmmgh He grunted, shifting somewhat. Everything felt odd, and uncomfortable, and warm. He felt like something was happening or going to happen. Charles leaned back, eyes shut. His heart was racing for some reason.
Charles forced himself up and walked across the office, ignoring the way he now waddled slightly. He closed the blinds and returned to his desk, standing before it, arching his sore back.
His breasts were uncomfortable and tight, nipples aching, dull but irritating. He absently unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, and felt as though he needed to remove his now-uncomfortable undershirt. Belatedly, he realized that he wasnt wearing one.
He glanced down at the white cotton material of his button-down. It looked tighter on him than it had that morning, which didnt seem very unusual for him these days. Only today the material was moist with sweat, and seemed to be embarrassingly pasted to his chest, confining them almost painfully. The material was able to stretch somewhat, but seemed to have exhausted its capacity for his body. The mounds on his chest were easily C-cups by then, round and fat, without even a hint of sagging.
Charles breathed heavily, his chest heaving up and down. He just had to get through the day, that was all.
He marvelled at how low his belly looked, with his breasts so perk and high on his chest. Beneath them were several inches of flat skin over his ribs, before his skin bloated out again, giving way to his large abdomen which was practically bulging out from the bottom of his shirt. He could no longer hope to tuck it into his pants.
Charles continued to breathe deeply, in and out. This was all in his head. He just needed to calm down.
He released a sharp gasp when his breasts seemed to tighten slightly, the shirt growing unbearably confining. Now he could see his areola and the pink splotches of his nipples against the moistening material as it struggled to contain his bloating, figment of a condition.
Ohhh Charles groaned out, hunching slightly and gripping his desk.
Rub The voice ordered. Rub them.
Knowing exactly what the voice wanted, Charles hesitated, before raising his free hand to his chest. He whimpered in discomfort as he rubbed his breasts tenderly, raising his opposite hand to simultaneously kneed both mounds, groaning and reddening as he did. Despite his care, he seemed to trigger something.
Nrrghhhh Charles stumbled back, his skin seeming to ignite, growing hotter and hotter. By instinct, he thrust his chest out, causing the shirt to tear, buttons popping across the room. His mounds burst free, bobbing and throbbing, nipples distending visibly, breasts trembling as they tightened. He whimpered in fear.
Ahhhh! Charles cried as his nipples began to simultaneously squirt thin streams ofmilk!? Gasping for breath, he stared down at himself. What he stammered, momentarily nonplussed. He reached across his desk, fumbling to grasp onto the tissue box. No, no, no
Yes, the voice defied him with clear pleasure. Your body is preparing.
P-preparing? said Charles, as he clumsily applied tissue to his tender, leaking nipples. Preparing for what? He watched his swollenengorgedbreasts visibly pulse. Oh god. He was lactating. This didnt make sense!
And then Charles froze, and felt like he could hit himself. Why was he talking to the voice? He feebly attempted to pull his shirt back around him, but it seemed like it was several sizes too small.
You did well, Charles, said the voice, as Charles gulped. The voice knew his name!?
Oh? Charles managed, despite himself, his words still quavering.
Because of you, I have grown strong, the voice continued. To put it in terms you might understand, I am now the size of an orange. The energy from your fat stores has allowed me to develop quite impressively. And thrive. In fact, it is almost time to start laying my eggs.
What!? said Charles. His legs shuddered. He somehow dragged himself to his desk, and plopped down, wincing slightly. His breasts wobbled up and down, now releasing persistent droplets that rolled down his stomach.
It is all due to your hard work, the voice commended him, its voice slightly strained now. And now I have mmm quite the heavy litter.
Waitstop! said Charles, completely disconcerted. There was talk of egg-laying, and he didnt know what that entailed. He didnt even know what was real and what wasnt anymore. The size of an orange? Where!? Insider of him!?
Ahhhh, the voice groaned. Heres the first
Errghh Charles grunted as his belly abruptly tightened, his remaining buttons straining to contain him. The shirt slid upwards and his back arched as his face reddened, and he fidgeted helplessly. He could physically see his belly pushing out by an inch or so.
The growth spurt ended just as quickly as it began, and left Charles slumping in his chair trying to catch his breath.
You must not resist
He felt fuller, tighter, as though he had just eaten several times the usual amount. He needed to get out. He needed toescape the voice somehow. Irrational and disoriented, Charles grasped his desktop and stood.
Ngghhhh He hunched, gripping his gut as it tightened again. It shuddered forward, popping completely free of his shirt. It heaved rapidly up and down with Charless heavy breathing. He now looked as though he was nine months pregnant.
Mmm thats two, said the voice thickly. Youre so plump and pliable. So full of energy.
W-what are you doing to me? wheezed Charles, still clutching his gut.
Each of my young is about the size of my own body, the voice explained. Oh, youre such a good host, Charles. Brace yourself. Here comes another.
No, please donnnrrghhh! His belly filled with pressure, now flushed and sweaty. Charles leaned heavily on his desk as he whimpered and tried to bear it. His belly button swelled unnaturally, pushing out to the size of a chestnut. He was getting too tight. He feared that he might burst.
Oh youll get to feed soon enough, Charles. After were done here, well get you nice and soft.
