Chapter 13: Double Devouring
The stillness of the shed was different when I woke. It wasn'tt the tense quiet of threat, but a thick, saturated silence, heavy with the smell of our bodies and its cum. I was on my side. My stomach felt tight. Uncomfortably full, as if I’d gorged on a feast.
Sunlight, feeble and grey, cut through a high crack in the plywood. It fell across Ellie, asleep beside me. Her shirt was still open. I saw it immediately.
Her belly, normally soft and curved, was distended. A firm, gentle swell pushed against the fabric of her pants. Not the bloat of a meal, but the definitive, round promise of a womb occupied.
“Ellie.” My voice was a rusted hinge.
She stirred, her hand moving instinctively to her abdomen. Her eyes flew open, meeting mine. There was no confusion in them. Only a dawning, terrifying certainty. Her fingers pressed into the firmness. “Amy.”
The movement woke the others. Nancy sat up first, a hiss of pain escaping her as her own shifted center of gravity pulled at her muscles. She looked down. Her hands, small and delicate like her mother’s, fluttered to the low, rounded swell beneath her navel. “Oh.”
Mary was already cataloging. She pushed herself up on her elbows, her gaze analytical and wide. She pulled her shirt up. Her stomach, taut and athletic yesterday, was now rounded, the skin stretched shiny and tight. She prodded it with clinical detachment. “Rapid cellular mitosis. Accelerated gestational development. The seed isn’t just viable. It’s aggressive.” Her voice trembled, betraying the cool analysis.
We were all swelling. Four women, marked.
I got to my knees, feeling the strange, heavy pull in my own core. My practical mind tried to calculate the rate of growth. It was impossible. This was biology rewritten by something that defied biology. I crawled to Ellie, my hand replacing hers on her belly. It was warm. Firm. Alive. A violent surge of possession tore through me, ugly and fierce. This was his. It was in her. In all of us.
“Does it hurt?” My thumb stroked the stretched skin.
She shook her head, tears welling. “No. It feels… full. Really full.” A shaky smile touched her lips. “God, look at us.”
We did. We helped each other stand, moving like strangers in our own bodies, hands on each other’s bellies, exploring the new geography. Nancy cupped Ellie’s swell, then Mary’s, comparing. “Yours is lower,” she murmured to Mary. “Mine feels higher up.”
“Pelvic structural variance affecting implantation positioning,” Mary breathed, but she was leaning into Nancy’s touch, her eyes closed.
The creature watched us. It was sitting propped against the wall, its milky eyes tracking our movements. Its cock, flaccid and crusted hours before, was thickening, rising slowly in the dim light. A low, wet sound gurgled in its chest.
Ellie heard it. She turned. She saw the thick, grey shaft lengthening, the pronounced veins re-engorging. Her fear melted, replaced by a liquid heat that flushed her skin. “It’s hungry again.”
“It’s a sustaining mechanism,” Mary said, walking toward it, her rounded belly leading the way. “Nutrition through absorption. It needs to replenish to support the gestation it initiated.”
“It needs to fuck us,” Nancy corrected, her voice husky. She was already pulling her pants down over her hips, the curve of her stomach more pronounced naked. “It needs to pump more of that cold cum into our ripe wombs. Feed the babies.”
The word babies hung in the air, monstrous and true.
The creature reached for Mary first, its hand splaying over her distended stomach before sliding down between her legs. She was slick, her body anticipating. “Yes,” she commanded, guiding the broad head to her entrance. “You will deposit directly into the cervix. Maximize nutrient transfer.”
It obeyed. It pulled her down onto its lap, her back against its chest. Its arms wrapped around her, one hand gripping her breast, the other spread possessively over her swollen belly. It sheathed itself inside her in one deep, upward thrust that made her gasp. From this angle, it could go deeper. We watched, hypnotized, as it fucked up into her, each movement jostling her rounded stomach. The wet, slapping sounds were obscenely fertile.
“It’s hitting my fucking core,” Mary chanted, her head lolling back on its shoulder. “I can feel it in my spine. Breed me deeper, you dead bastard. Feed your litter.”
Ellie was on her hands and knees before it, presenting herself. “My turn,” she panted, looking back over her shoulder. “While it’s still hard from her. I want it bursting inside me.”
It didn’t disengage from Mary. Instead, it pushed her forward, keeping itself buried in her cunt, until Ellie could position herself beneath Mary. Then, with a grunt, it pulled out of Mary, a stream of its fluid dribbling out, and immediately slammed into Ellie from behind. The entry was brutal, efficient. Ellie screamed, a sound of pure, unraveling pleasure, as it reclaimed her.
Nancy was touching herself, two fingers working in frantic circles over her clit, her other hand kneading her own full breast. “I’m so full and it’s so empty,” she moaned. “I need it to stretch me open around this belly.”
It was my turn to be practical. To orchestrate. “Nancy, on your back. Ellie, stay there.” My voice left no room for argument. We moved like parts of a machine, a filthy, procreating machine.
Nancy lay back, her swollen abdomen a pale mound in the gloom. The creature left Ellie dripping and shivering, and mounted Nancy. It positioned itself over her, its weight supported on its arms, its cock nudging at her soaked opening. It didn’t plunge. It pushed in slowly, irresistibly, stretching her around the new fullness inside her. Nancy’s eyes rolled back. “Oh fuck, it’s so deep. It’s filling all the space. I can feel everything.”
I watched it thrust into my daughter, into the firm proof of its previous violation, and my cunt ached with a hollow, desperate need. I needed the same confirmation. The same brutal topping up.
When it finished with Nancy, painting her inner walls with another gush of cold seed, it finally turned to me. I was ready. I got on all fours, presenting my ass, my own swollen belly hanging heavy beneath me. It mounted me like an animal. Its hands gripped my hips, fingers digging into the flesh just above my pelvis. It didn’t fuck me. It claimed me. Each drive was a punitive, perfect stroke, battering the mouth of my womb, making my full stomach sway.
The pressure built, a crescendo of impossible fullness. “Fill me!” I snarled into the tarp. “Plug me up with your rot! Make sure it takes!”
Its climax was a flood. A geyser of decaying vitality that chilled my deepest core, expanding the already-tight space. I came with a silent, shuddering violence, my vision spotting, my teeth gritted against the wave of pleasure that felt like being split apart and remade.
It collapsed off me, spent.
We lay there, four women with rapidly growing bellies, leaking its essence onto the floor. The creature sat back, its cock finally softening. Its chest rattled. It was sated. For now.
For now.
The silence that followed was not peaceful. It was the quiet of a laboratory between violent experiments, thick with the scent of copper, sex, and something sweetly metabolic. Our breathing eventually steadied. The reality of our shapes, lit by that grey blade of light, was inescapable.
Ellie traced the tight arc of her stomach with something like reverence, her fingers catching on the dampness between her legs. “It’s moving,” she whispered.
We all stilled. Mary placed her palm flat against her own distended skin. A slow, internal ripple shifted beneath her touch, a pressure deep within the firm swell. Not a kick. Something softer, a viscous undulation. “Cellular reorganization,” she said, but her voice was thin, awed. “The material is structuring itself.”
Nancy let out a wet laugh, her hand stroking her belly. “It’s hungry in there too. It wants more.”
As if summoned, the creature’s cock, which lay flaccid against its thigh, twitched. It was a grotesque puppet string being pulled. Thickening. Filling. Rising once more in the damp air. A droplet of cloudy fluid beaded at its tip.
“Christ,” I breathed, the word swallowed by the sheer inevitability of it.
“Efficiency,” Mary stated, shifting onto her knees, her movements awkward with her new weight. “The host bodies require constant nutrient saturation to sustain the accelerated growth. It’s a pump. A bioreactor.” She crawled toward it, her gaze fixed on the reforming shaft. “We are the culture.”
Ellie watched, her blond hair stuck to her sweaty neck. “We can’t just… let it.”
“Why?” Nancy asked, simply. She was already positioning herself on her side, one leg hitched up. “It feels good. It’s feeding them. It’s keeping us full.” Her hand slid down to her cleft, parting herself, showing the glistening, swollen pink flesh to the thing. “C’mere. Do it like this. I want to watch it go in.”
It moved. Not with its earlier frenzy, but with a dreadful, purposeful economy. It shuffled to Nancy, its milky eyes on her offered cunt. It didn’t mount her. It lay behind her, spooning her rounded form, one arm draping over her hip. Its cock nudged at her from below, then pushed upward, sinking into her with a slow, relentless invasion. Nancy’s mouth fell open in a silent gasp.
We watched, because there was nothing else to do. The thick shaft disappeared into her, stretching her, the base of it grinding against her ass. Its arm tightened, pulling her back onto it, setting a rhythm that was deep and thorough. Each withdrawal was almost complete, each thrust a full, claiming re-entry.
“Feels deeper,” Nancy grunted, her hand clutching at the arm across her belly. “With the baby in the way… there’s less room. Oh god, it’s all the way in my guts.”
It came inside her with a shudder that passed through both their bodies. We saw the extra distension in her lower belly, a temporary, bulbous swell traveling upward as it emptied another torrent into her. It pulled out, and a river of its spent cum mixed with her own fluids soaked the tarp beneath her hips.
It turned its head. Looked at Mary.
“Supine is optimal for cervical contact,” Mary said, lying back and spreading her legs wide, her rounded stomach a firm dome. It crawled over her, its weight settling. It positioned the broad head, and then let gravity and its own falling mass do the work. It impaled her in one brutal, decisive drop.
The air left Mary’s lungs in a choked whuff. Her eyes went wide, analytical thought obliterated by sheer physical shock. It began to piston, its balls slapping against her ass, its pubic bone mashing into her clit with every descent.
“Y-yes,” she stammered, her hands flying to its back, nails digging into the cold flesh. “Direct insemination. Maximum volume. My cervix is—it’s open for you. Flood it.”
It fucked her with a jarring, vertical force. Her swollen body jolted with each impact. When it came, it gave a low, rattling groan, and I swear I saw her belly, already so full, tighten further, accepting another vast, impossible deposit.
It was Ellie’s turn. She was crying softly, tears cutting clean tracks through the sweat and grime on her cheeks. She got on her hands and knees again, but this time she arched her back, lowering her shoulders, raising her ass high. Presenting not just her cunt, but the deep, hungry channel beyond. “Please,” she sobbed, the word raw. “Make it quick. Make it count.”
It took her from behind with a force that knocked her elbows out from under her. Her face pressed into the tarp. Each thrust was a short, hard ram, a machine-gun battering of her core. She screamed into the fabric, her body convulsing in a rapid, brutal climax that seemed more like a seizure. It followed seconds later, another pulse of its generative coldness shooting deep into her fertile darkness.
Then it was before me. Its cock, slick with the essence of my wife and daughters, glistened. It was unflagging. A tool. My tool.
I rolled onto my back, my swollen abdomen a palpable weight. I hooked my legs over its shoulders, pulling it down into the cradle of my body. “Look at me,” I gritted out. Its milky eyes found mine. “You see what you’re doing? You see what you’ve put in me? Now give it more.”
It pushed in. The fullness was astronomical. My belly constrained the depth, making every inch a monumental conquest. It felt like it was fucking my stomach from the inside out. I scratched at its chest, my fingers finding old wounds, peeling back parchment skin. “Breed me, you rotten fuck! Top me off!”
Its rhythm broke into frantic, shallow stabs, the head of its cock a battering ram against my innermost gate. My orgasm was a sharp, white-hot rupture. Its followed, a gushing, seemingly endless flood that cooled the fire it had lit, leaving a profound, saturating chill in its wake. I felt it pool and settle, heavy atop the earlier deposits.
It rolled off. Stood on shaky legs. Its cock, spent again, dripped a steady, slow stream onto the floor.
We were ruins. Four women, blown out and leaking, our stomachs round and firm and churning with foreign life. The creature stood over us, swaying. Then it took a step toward the reinforced door. Toward the chains.
It placed a palm against the cold metal.
A low, yearning moan vibrated in its chest. Not for us. It was looking out. It was hungry in a different way.
A sharp, distinct flutter rolled beneath my navel, a tremor that was neither pleasure nor pain, but simple, terrifying presence.
Something was in there. And it was awake.