alienpreggo

[alienpreggo]

Mrs. Brenda Simmons, a 45-year-old lonely housewife, has become a carrier for the alien young after getting impregnated by a strange tentacle creature. Slowly she begins to accept her new purpose and now wants to spread their love to others...

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Just swallow.

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Filled to the brim with alien belly bursters

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Mom joins the parasite cult.

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Parasite Communion. Ever since mom and I moved into the new neighborhood she’s been spending a lot of time with the neighborhood housewives who all seem to be heavily pregnant. One weekend night you over hear your mom and her new friends downstairs followed by load moaning, you take a peak and see your moms friends laying around the living room, rubbing their large bellies as they groan and squirm from the young inside. You see they are watching your mother, as she is struggling while being force fed an alien parasite… her new friends comfort her as more parasites slither inside of her filling her belly… you worry for your mommy but there’s nothing you can do but watch. As she is dominated and bred by the alien parasite.

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Weeks passed like an eternity after mom signed up for the breeding program for the alien slugs. We had been texting each other for awhile, with me pleading her to come back, with her saying things like “This is the way things are now dear”, after so many times of pleading to her, she eventually stopped responding to my texts. The unsettling silence that followed each unanswered text intensified my concern for her well-being. One day, a notification jolted me back to the reality I desperately tried to escape – she was active on social media.

Dread knotted my stomach as I reluctantly opened the app. What awaited me was beyond comprehension. Images flooded my screen, my mother proudly displaying her ever-expanding belly, filled with alien slugs. The captions, once familiar and comforting, now echoed an eerie affection for these invasive creatures. She referred to them as her "babies," her words sending shivers down my spine.

Scrolling through the grotesque photos, I found myself caught in a nightmare. Videos revealed the transformation of close family and friends into willing breeders for the alien slugs. The clips depicted the unnerving process as the slugs slithered into their mouths, their eyes glazed with an otherworldly allure. Some were shown with swollen bellies, filled to the brim with the slugs, just like mom.

The comments section was a chilling echo chamber of admiration and encouragement. People applauded the newfound joy of becoming breeders, expressing excitement and anticipation for their own encounters with the alien slugs. It was a surreal online community, growing in numbers, each member seemingly enchanted by the invasive force that had taken hold of our town.

Desperation gripped me as I tried to comprehend the scale of this infestation. My mother's once familiar face was now obscured by a haunting ecstasy, and the friends and family I knew are now incubators for the alien slugs, being bred endlessly by them now.

I came to the realization that they had willingly embraced their role as hosts for the alien slugs. The more I scrolled, the deeper I descended into a nightmare that I must accept.

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The news hit our small town like a sucker punch. Alien slugs, just like the grotesque things from that cult classic "Slither," have invaded the town, burrowing into unsuspecting hosts and turning them into living incubators. It was chaos. People were terrified, but there was also a morbid fascination. The government, in a desperate attempt at control, had declared a state of emergency and announced a horrifying plan: a mass "incubation program." They were calling for volunteers, promising safety and even compensation. Let's just say, volunteers weren't exactly lining up.  My stomach churned as I thought of Mom. She always marched to the beat of her own drum, often to the point of recklessness. The idea of her signing up for this, becoming a walking incubator for those… things… filled me with dread.

I dialed her number, willing her to pick up. Voicemail. Again. My calls went unanswered for hours, each unanswered ring twisting the anxiety in my gut tighter.

Then, a text. From Mom. A picture. My breath hitched. She was smiling, a wide, unsettling smile, her hand resting on a swollen belly. The caption: "Little wrigglers doing great! Can't wait to meet the grandbabies!"

My phone clattered to the floor. My mother, the ever-optimistic free spirit, was carrying alien slug babies. The thought was enough to make me scream. But no sound came out. All I could do was stare at the picture, the grotesque reality sinking in.

There was nothing I could do. No arguing, no pleading, would change her mind. She was in too deep, seduced by the novelty, the supposed purpose. I was left with a chilling emptiness, a sickening mix of fear and helplessness.

The town transformed into a living nightmare. People, their bodies slowly warping, their smiles growing wider, their eyes gleaming with an unnatural light. Mom was just one piece in this horrifying puzzle, a willing participant in a grotesque experiment gone horribly wrong.

I was alone, adrift in a sea of paranoia and despair. The once familiar streets thrummed with an alien energy, the cheerful chatter replaced by guttural growls and the rhythmic pulsating of bellies swollen with otherworldly life.

There was no escape. No happy ending. Just the cold, horrifying reality of a world overrun, not by mindless monsters, but by smiling mothers nurturing the next generation of nightmare. And somewhere in that crowd, my own mother, her smile wider than ever, her womb a cradle for the things that would devour our world.

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Breeding program volunteer.

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They are forced to watch as she is pumped full of alien young.

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Another breeder for the hive.

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Mom and Sis volunteered for the breeding program. Their bellies moan and squirm from all the young inside. All you can do is watch as the facehuggers latch onto their faces over and over pumping them full of their young.