"Aw, you're probably just hungry," she assured him. "A good breakfast will help."

"I don't know…"

"Trust me," she said, giving him a pat on the back as she set down a big plate of eggs before him. He looked down at the plate uncertainly. His stomach already felt uncomfortably taut, and three eggs seemed like a lot when he hardly felt up to eating at all.

"It'll make you feel better," she insisted, noticing his hesitation. "You need some good protein to get you moving. It'll help."

The protein would help, but it wouldn't help Ben. Rather, it would make a fine breakfast for the tiny larvae she'd snuck into his food last night, which should have been growing steadily and feeling pretty ravenous right about now.

Reluctantly, Ben broke off a bite with his fork and stuck it in his mouth. Odd as she was, Sherry was a pretty good cook; the eggs were perfectly fried, crispy around the edges, the white solid but not rubbery, the yolk still golden and gooey. The taste of it perked up his appetite just enough to keep going. As he was chewing the second bite, though, he felt an odd sensation in his stomach, almost sort of a squirmy feeling. Despite it, with Sherry sitting beside him with an expectant look on her face, he tried to ignore it and kept eating.

The eggs filled him up surprisingly quickly, which he attributed to the bloated feeling he'd started with. What it actually was, of course, was the not-quite-so-tiny larvae gobbling up the fresh nutrients in his stomach and growing bigger all the while. By the time he managed to finish, belly feeling uncomfortably stuffed, each of the half dozen creatures was about the size of a banana.

"I feel like I'm gonna explode," he moaned, leaning back in the chair with his hands resting on his swollen tummy. It had only been a little bloated before; now it looked strained and distended, the tightness showing with each shallow breath. And he just couldn't shake that odd squirmy feeling. It was even stronger now, as though something were moving inside him. When he'd first gotten up, he'd assumed it was just spasms or gas moving around, but now it was really beginning to feel strange.

"Something's wrong," he said, voice unsteady. He looked at Sherry, but her eyes were fixed on his stomach. Looking down, he saw with horror that the movement he was feeling wasn't just a feeling--it was visible. He pulled up his shirt with trembling hands. It was slow and it was subtle, but there were odd protrusions ever-so-slightly distorting the shape of his belly, moving under the taut skin as though he were packed with sleepy eels.

Ben wanted to scream, but he couldn't find his voice. He looked back at Sherry, but she didn't look horrified. She didn't even look particularly worried. She simply watched his bulging belly with great interest, almost looking pleased. Before he could start thinking about that, though, Ben realized something else. His stomach--or whatever was inside it--was still swelling.

He clutched his belly with a moan, then pulled his hands back quickly, disgusted by the solid masses moving around under his palms. He didn't know what to do. His belly pushed forward, the creatures inside him steadily growing larger and fatter, and as they did, their movement became both more restrained and more forceful. They were pressed together, unable to move freely and fighting for space, and his stomach bulged oddly as they pushed and stretched.

Ben tried to stand, but the ache of his overstretched stomach hit him sharply, and he fell to his knees with a cry, holding his belly. Helpless and hopeless, he toppled back onto the floor. Sherry knelt down beside him and carefully pressed a hand to his belly. It felt incredibly hard, and she could feel one of the creatures just under his drum-tight skin resist against her. Ben seemed to have finally found his voice, but he was only using it to whimper and moan now, squirming in pain almost as much as the giant grubs inside him. Suddenly he grabbed her hand, his grip shaky but firm, and she looked at him.

"What is it?" he choked, struggling to speak through shallow gasps. His belly trembled precariously with each breath. "Sherry, for Christ's sake, what is it?!"

Sherry smiled at him. She looked down at his belly, the size of a beach ball now, rumbling ominously as it swayed and stretched, the bulges against his skin growing increasingly alarming. His straining skin began to creak.

"An experiment."

EPILOGUE: