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Aliens Colonized My Butt and Made Me Their Slut
Aliens Colonized My Butt and Made Me Their Slut
Aliens Colonized My Butt and Made Me Their Slut
Ebook55 pages28 minutes

Aliens Colonized My Butt and Made Me Their Slut

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Kurt's got a bad stomach ache, and nothing is helping the pain go away. Bizarrely, someone is also sending messages to his phone claiming to represent a tiny extraterrestrial race that has colonized his rectum. It sounds ridiculous, and Kurt laughs it off—but the pain worsens.

The so-called aliens have demands. They need protein for their farm. And then Kurt receives a visitor—Arnold—to his dorm room who's in desperate need of relief.

There's only one way to satisfy both of them.

A single encounter evolves into a weird relationship as Kurt realizes he needs to keep feeding his alien parasites, or else they'll eat him from the inside out. Likewise, Arnold must provide them with what their colony needs. As a result, Kurt's belly starts growing to pregnant proportions. The aliens also have plans to make him more feminine and attractive to help expand their farm.

As Kurt looks less and less like the man he used to be, he begins to worry that there's no going back...

LanguageEnglish
Release dateNov 11, 2022
ISBN9781005297657
Aliens Colonized My Butt and Made Me Their Slut
Author

Gregor Daniels

Gregor Daniels is an erotica author that specializes in gender swap and erotic transformation fetishes. New stories are typically released weekly and feature a variety of themes. Have you ever had fantasies to be a girl? Then look no further ...Contact the author directly on Twitter to discuss stories, share your favorite ideas and fantasies, scenes, and characters, or to just talk about nothing in particular.

Read more from Gregor Daniels

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    Aliens Colonized My Butt and Made Me Their Slut - Gregor Daniels

    Contents

    One

    Two

    Three

    Four

    Five

    Epilogue

    Copyright © 2022 Gregor Daniels

    All rights reserved.

    Only ADULTS beyond this point.

    All characters are consenting adults at least eighteen years old.

    1

    I woke up in the wee hours of the morning with a stomach cramp so severe it felt like someone had removed my digestive organs, strung them up, kickboxed them for a solid thirty minutes, and sewn them back inside my body. In darkness, I groaned on my way to the bathroom and plopped myself on the toilet seat, expecting my bowels to flush out. It didn’t happen.

    The attic, then?

    Although there were a few unpleasant rumbles in and around the epicenter, I was never struck with the urge to vomit.

    I continued to be in pain, and it wasn’t lessening.

    Late-night Taco Bell, I cursed my past self, thinking maybe it was food poisoning. Never again!

    At last, I figured my only path toward relief was to sleep through whatever the hell was ailing me. I shuffled back toward my dorm room bed, finding it already a little sodden with sweat. I wasn’t in the mood to care. Instead, I curled up in the fetal position and wrapped my arms around my abdomen, finding that a little bit of sustained pressure alleviated my discomfort somewhat.

    Sleep was reluctant to come.

    After suffering for another miserable stretch of time, I heard my phone beep. I reached over and retrieved it off the nightstand, expecting a stupid spam message.

    The screen was black.

    Huh? I muttered, before grimacing through another strong cramp.

    I tapped all along the screen. Nothing. I even tried the power button, wondering if my phone was glitched and needed a reboot. That didn’t do anything. Then, half praying that the piece of technology that kept me in touch with my meager number of friends hadn’t suffered a catastrophic failure, I started to take out the battery.

    There was something on the screen.

    Words on a black background.

    [HELLO, HUMAN KURT]

    [TELECOMMUNICATE AND TRANSLATE IN PROGRESS]

    [WE EXTEND GREETING]

    [NO HARM INTENDED]

    [PAIN IN DIGESTIVE TRACT AN EFFECT OF COLONIZATION]

    What the hell? I thought.

    I immediately attributed these odd text messages to two possibilities: either my phone was hacked, or I was asleep and dreaming. Although if I was dreaming, my stupid stomach was still hurting. Thanks, brain.

    The lack of interactivity on my end continued. I couldn’t close the window with the messages. I couldn’t cycle my phone’s power. I couldn’t reply.

    I could only watch.

    And become increasingly bewildered.

    [WE HAVE STUDIED YOUR CULTURE]

    [PLEASANTRIES EXPECTED FROM US]

    [HUMAN KURT, WE COME IN PEACE]

    [WE TRAVEL GREAT DISTANCE]

    [TREMENDOUS NUTRITIONAL SUPPLY ON EARTH]

    [WE ARE INVISIBLE TO YOUR EYE BUT WE NUMBER IN THE MILLIONS]

    [WE HAVE CHOSEN YOUR RECTUM TO BE OUR FARM]

    "My rectum? Your farm?"

    Now I was beginning to think this was a prank. Everything was too lucid for this to be some weird-ass dream. However, my sleep-deprived state of mind was running off the deep end with theories. Perhaps someone had manufactured a stomach bug and now they were going to demand a ransom for a cure. Jesus. A college campus would be the perfect place to drop some kind of

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