Chapter Text
Walking down into your dark basement, you flick on the light at the bottom of the steps, illuminating the large room. This is where you keep your vast insect collection, rows and rows of tanks line the walls, a few small cages hang from the ceiling. You weave through the maze of bugs until you reach your desk in a dark corner at the back of the room. On your desk, is a little cage. Peering into it, your eyes settle upon the tiny body that belongs to your little pocket boy.
He’s curled up in the corner, laying on his side on the cold metal floor of his cage, body unmoving as you approach. It looks like the little guy didn’t get any sleep last night, kept up trying to nurse his own tummy ache. He has dark circles under his eyes and his body is still trembling with exhaustion from the previous day of getting stuffed and tortured by you and your collection. You observe him closely for a moment, watching him as he rubs his shaky little hand back and forth across the tender and inflamed skin of his tummy. You open the cage door and reach in. Taking two of your fingers, you nudge his body gently, trying to get a reaction out of him. He lets out a soft whimper and tries to curl up around himself. Carefully, you scoop the tiny thing into your hand and pull him out, cradling his frail body in your arms. Holding him in one hand, you use the other to rub circles over his empty belly ever so softly, soothing the ache in his slightly puffy tummy. He moans as you continue to rub, applying the tiniest bit of pressure, and you feel his body relax into your palm. With his body draped limply in your hands, you hold him for a moment before laying him down onto your desk.
Today, you've thought of a brand new way of playing with your beloved pet. Sure, watching his belly get stuffed full to bursting over and over and over is loads of fun, but you want to try something different this time. You start to rummage around your drawers, looking for something among your cluttered belongings. Reaching deep within your desk, you finally find it right at the back. Yanking it out from the rest of your stuff, you pull out a wide brimmed funnel, setting it next to the small boy. Then, from a shelf that stands a few feet away, you fetch a plastic container. Now with everything you need ready, you take the boy in your hand and lift him up. He yelps in surprise as he's yanked from the desk, squirming a little in your grip, an expression of dread and confusion washing over his face as he spots the funnel in your other hand. You bring the funnel up to his face, nudging the tip of the opening against his lips. He shakes his head, trying to push it away with his hands. Becoming frustrated with his lack of cooperation, you give him a quick, but harsh squeeze. He cries out in pain, and you take the chance to stuff the funnel into his open mouth. Tears prick his eyes as he wiggles, jaw straining around the piece of plastic wedged in his mouth. He moans, unable to speak, hands clawing at the funnel in an attempt to get it out. His efforts are futile though, and the funnel is stuck fast in his jaw.
Reaching back down to your desk, you grab the plastic container and take the lid off, revealing it to be full of pale yellow worms. Picking it up, you carefully tip a couple into the funnel, watching them as they slide down into the hole at the bottom. The boy’s eyes widen when he feels the first worm fall into his mouth, a look of disgust on his face as it wiggles around. You watch him desperately try not to swallow the creature, but after a few seconds, it finds its way to the back of his throat, down his esophagus and into his empty stomach. The rest of the worms quickly follow the first, landing heavily in his tummy, giving it a slightly full look, as if he had eaten a bit too much after a meal. Only about three worms sat in his stomach, and you can already see their movements behind his skin, pushing out and making little bumps that roll through his flesh. He groans into the funnel, tears starting to run down his cheeks. You look down at him, then the container, then back to him, a smile creeping onto your face.
Taking the container, you pour all of its contents into the funnel, filling it to the brim and watch the worms wiggle around, a few falling over the edge and onto the floor below. The worms quickly work their way down into his gaping mouth, cheeks puffing out as they fill every space they can find. He cries and screams into the funnel, but the sound is muffled. Slimy gurgles and squelches are heard as his belly balloons outward, bloating bigger and bigger with the wriggling insects. His tummy is writhing, stomach straining and stretching to contain the sudden influx of worms. He twists in your grip, his swelling belly pushing against your fingers. You can feel the worms moving beneath his skin, which is quickly growing thinner by the second as he swells with life. It's not long before his stomach is obscenely large, swollen tight with worms. His body is writhing in your palm as his arms frantically clutch at the mound of bulging flesh. With the poor abused organ stretched as far as it could be, the flow of worms comes to a stop. You frown, there's still at least half a funnel worth left, and you're determined to stuff every last wiggling worm into his little belly. You take a finger and stick it into the funnel, shoving the worms down, forcing them into the little hole at the bottom. He lets out a pain filled scream into the funnel as he feels his stomach grow way past its capacity, stretching and stretching further, until it's so packed, some of the worms are forced down into his intestines. You watch his lower belly as it begins to bloat out, more and more worms pressing their way into his gut. He thrashes and wails in agony, big fat tears roll down his face, his jaw aching from being held open so wide for so long. He kicks his legs weakly against your fingers, trying to escape your grasp as he throws himself left and right, his whole body trembling violently.
As the last worm slips down the funnel and into his tight belly, you pull the tube out of his mouth and put it down on the desk. With his mouth freed, he bursts into tears, sobbing hard and screaming loudly. You hold him, cupped in your hands, and listen to him as he cries. His belly is huge and round, the whole thing looks alive with how much it's moving. His tiny hands rub desperately at the taut skin as it bulges and creaks with strain, wailing when he feels the mass of writhing worms beneath his skin pushing and pulsing against his trembling hands. He wants so badly for the unbearable pressure to go away, begging for his torture to end. He rocks his body back and forth, desperate to relieve the pain. His stomach groans unhappily, gurgling loudly as the worms slosh around his belly, twisting inside his poor intestines and tangling them into tight knots. He moans and whimpers, his tummy is so full, and he feels so sick, gasping between the cries of pain he lets slip when he feels the agonizing cramps tear through his middle. He can feel the worms squirming and fighting each other for room in his swollen overloaded stomach. Their movement makes him retch as he feels the tail of one tickling at the back of his throat. His writhing tummy contracts, squeezing and pushing the contents of his stomach up his throat, and he vomits up a bit of slimy mucus that spurts from his mouth and dribbles down his chin. Once he starts gagging, he can’t seem to stop, his stomach heaves and heaves, trying to purge itself of the wiggly intruders, but all he manages to get up is slimy yellow bile. It’s sour taste fills his mouth while he struggles to breathe, gagging on the thick mucus and choking for air, spluttering and gasping while he grabs at his neck. The worms become distressed as his stomach squeezes them in an attempt to get them out, and they start to thrash wildly inside him. He makes a pained gurgling sound, choked cries for help getting cut off as he heaves over and over, body jerking forwards and jostling his stuffed organs.
Not wanting him to pass out from the lack of air, you take your fingers and rub the sides of his tummy gently, tracing little circles over his skin, feeling the worms roll and tumble around his belly. You rub all over his tummy, brushing over his belly button, which had popped out while he was being stuffed taut. His stomach seems to calm down as you rub, his heaving slows to the occasional gag, until he’s able to breath again. Quickly becoming overstimulated as you rub his sensitive tummy, he moans in pain,
“AH! O-Oh, my belly, my belly! Nngh o-oh-uunghhh…uhh, uurgghhhh….oh god, my-my tummy!”
You poke your finger deep into the hard flesh, right on top of his navel. He squirms underneath you, wriggling his hips to try and escape, but he’s pinned down, you being much bigger and much stronger than him. He attempts to push your finger off, but his belly is so large, his reach doesn’t even come close to his belly button.
“N-no, stop, s-stop pressing it!” he groans, “get off of me, please, g-get off!"
You proceed to play with him a little, ignoring his crying protests completely. You poke and prod his tummy, squeezing him and laughing at his pain. You even give his tummy a nice hard flick with your finger, grinning as he screams, his belly jiggling and wobbling up and down. The worms grow more and more active inside his belly the more you play with it, until his whole belly is almost jumping off his body, huge bulges roll and stretch through his flushed pink skin. His tummy ripples with movement, the worms thrashing inside his digestive system.
You then take him by the arms, gently pinching his little hands between your fingers, and lift him off your palm, dangling him high in the air. He shrieks and thrashes his body to and fro, trying to slip free from your grasp. His plump belly hangs low and heavy off his scrawny frame like a big, juicy, over-ripe fruit, sweat forming little beads like drops of dew, giving the skin of his tummy a nice shiny look. His legs kick wildly, frantically searching for a foothold as he screams in a flurry of panic. His arms feel like they’re being yanked out of their sockets, his swollen tummy weighing him down, jutting outward from his hips. Sobbing hysterically, he begs you to put him down, before his arms rip off, or his tummy splits him in half. You do as he asks, suddenly opening your fingers and letting go of him. He drops about two feet down, not very far to you, but a very high drop for him, and lands on top of your desk with a fleshy sounding smack. He screams as he collides with the ground hard, belly first, landing right on top of his hard packed tummy. He screams and screams and screams, writhing on the desk. White hot agony explodes in bursts through his engorged belly, clutching it like he's trying to hold the skin together. His body convulses and his eyes are full of pain and shock, rolling in their sockets, legs thrashing against the surface of the desk. His vision blurs as he fades in and out of unconsciousness, tears flooding his big eyes. He arches his back, pushing his writhing gut high into the air and you watch him, a huge grin spread across your face. The worms are in a frenzy, clearly upset from the harsh landing. They twist and squirm, making his belly thrash so hard it pulls his whole body with it.
His skin begins to darken as a huge bruise starts to form on his engorged belly. A deep purple spreads across his tummy in splotches, caused by both the harsh thrashing of the worms as well as the painful landing. His body has grown still, except for the occasional twitch in his limbs, his eyes staring up at the ceiling, glazed over with pain and fatigue, too exhausted to move. His huge belly towers over him, pinning him to the spot, it looks almost as if he’d swallowed a small orange whole. You nudge his tummy, and it wobbles above him, making him cry out, his voice torn and raspy from screaming so loudly. His chest rises and falls as he breathes shallowly, struggling to suck in enough air with the huge mound of writhing flesh weighing heavy on his tiny body, his overfilled stomach and intestines crushing his other organs under their mass and constricting his lungs. It looks like you’ve drained all you can get out of him today, so you grab some thread and tie his legs tightly shut while he moans in protest, too tired to resist you. You pluck his limp body from the desk and dump him roughly back into his little cage. With some more thread, you bind his arms to the bars, completely immobilizing him. You leave him to lay there in pain with his bulging belly, obscenely swollen, unable to escape the agony of being so unbearably full.
Every day, you come down into your basement to check on him and tend to your collection. When you peer into his cage, you see him pull desperately at his restraints and kick his legs. He cries for his arms to be untied so he can rub his poor tummy, for you to get the insects out of him.
“Please, please!” he begs you, “I’m too full, please get them out, I need them out of me! It hurts so bad, they’re going to rip me open, I can’t take it anymore, please!”
He sobs and wails, screaming that they’re tearing him apart, or that his belly will burst. You ignore his cries, enjoying every second of his agony, leaving him bound and writhing night after night. One day, you check on him and to your surprise and delight, his large tummy has somehow grown even larger. It’s noticeably bigger, the red stretch marks covering his belly like cracks in his skin have grown in both length and number. All those worms must have started to breed inside him, laying eggs and multiplying fast, bloating him up further than you thought possible. Skin pulled as far as it could stretch, and then stretched even further. His massively distended belly contorts, its shape constantly distorting and twisting. Soon his tummy becomes so painfully full, slime covered egg casings start getting pushed up his throat from the sheer pressure. They fall from his mouth as he weakly hacks them up, clinging onto his chin and splattering on top of his plump tummy. He lays consumed in agony, quivering belly covered in sweat, dripping from head to toe in mucus and slime.
You let his belly swell further and further for nearly two weeks. The bulging mound sits heavily in his lap, his skin red and sore all over, belly in constant motion. He’s so tired, hardly able to get any rest while the worms in his tummy painfully push and shove his battered innards around, so exhausted he can barely gather enough energy to cry. The bruises on his belly have only gotten worse, purple and black spots litter his skin with the occasional yellow splotch here and there. His stomach and intestines feel so torn up and stretched, he's afraid they're going to rip open inside him any minute. His chest aches too, the worms take up so much space that they've pushed up into his ribs and cracked some of them. He lets out a strained sob whenever they thrash against his rib cage, aggravating the injuries and bending the broken bones in awkward directions.
It’s been fun watching the little guy suffer terribly for weeks, but you’re afraid that if you let the worms multiply anymore, they may actually do some damage that you won’t be able to fix, or his tummy might actually burst, and as fun as that sounds, you can’t accidentally let him die on you since you’ve been having such a good time playing with him. You finally decide to untie him from the bars and let his legs go. As soon as you do, he flops limply over on his back and moans, spreading his legs wide open, belly falling between them onto the cold floor below. He’s much too weak to rid his body of the parasites by himself, so you pick him up and wrap your hands around him. His exhausted half lidded eyes look up at you, silently pleading you not to do what you’re about to do. He opens his mouth like he’s about to beg you to stop, but before he can make a sound, you squeeze his big belly hard. His face contorts into an expression of pain, eyes shooting wide open. He throws his head back and shrieks, his hands pound against yours, trying to make you let go, but your grip only tightens around him, constricting him more. You feel the worms inside his tummy explode into a frenzy of movement, thrashing against your palms through his skin as you crush them. They start wildly searching for an exit, the ones that had been nesting his intestines getting forced down, pushing their way out from between his legs. The ones in his stomach begin to squirm their way up his throat, and you can see them through his neck as they climb. His screams are suddenly cut off as the first worm forces its way out of his mouth. A frothy mixture of slime covered eggs, big juicy larva, and worm gush from his mouth in thick copious waves, flooding down his chin and splattering the top of his tummy and all over your hands. The both of you are quickly drenched in the awful concoction, worms and mucus sliding off of you and falling on the floor below with a wet plop. Worm after worm is shoved painfully from his body, and slowly, his tummy deflates as you squeeze it like a wet sponge. Before he passes out on you, you release your grip, stopping the rush of worms and giving him a short break so he can breath again. His tummy has significantly gone down in size, from being as big as a grapefruit to being as big as an orange.
Still with hundreds of worms and eggs to go, you let him catch his breath for just a second before squeezing his tummy again. He sobs desperately between mouthfuls of insects, hips buckling, legs spread open and kicking as the contents of his belly are roughly shoved out of him. The worms push their way out slowly, two or three at a time stretching him painfully wide, coming out with a sickly wet pop. Mucus rushes out as each one makes its exit, soaking the underside of his belly and drenching his legs. Your hands are slick with slime, his body almost slipping from your grasp, but you hold him tight. Lacing your fingers together behind his back, you crush his round belly between your palms, forcing up another huge wave of worm to burst out of his trembling body. Soon, his belly shrinks enough to look like he swallowed a grape whole. He’s panting hard, his eyelids fluttering open and closed. His body drained of all of its energy, sore and hurting all over, but his tummy's still thrashing, the few worms that are left having much more space to move around. You use one finger to press into his tummy, digging deep into the puffy flesh and rubbing it up and down hard. The last worms are shoved up into his throat and out his mouth, and with that his belly is empty for the first time in weeks. He whimpers and moans, painful cramps still rippling through him, the muscles in his tummy twitching with each spasm. He falls unconscious in the mucus, eggs, and worms that have pooled in your hands, eyes rolling back in his head, body falling limp in your arms.
After cleaning him off, washing your hands and mopping up the puddle of worms on the floor, you bandage his tiny chest in hopes that his ribs would heal ok, and wrap his body up in a piece of cloth like a blanket. His arms are draped over his belly, which still looks to be a bit swollen after being so far stretched. The skin is still covered in red stretch marks and splotched with big dark bruises. He moans as you move him, laying him down gently into his cage, and letting him rest. After a few days, the bruises that cover his tummy start to clear up, fading slowly until his skin returns to its normal color. The bags under his eyes fade as well, and he’s glad to finally have a break from the torture he’s had to endure. He recovers slowly, and you keep a close eye on him as he heals. As he gets better and better, you get more and more excited. You can’t wait until he’s healthy enough to start breeding him again, you’re already thinking about which insect to stuff him with next.