#slugtf

No one really notices slugs, and so you won’t either the next time it rains and you almost step on one. You’ll suddenly stagger, feeling lightheaded. The world will seem to slow down. You’ll fall face-first into your bed and sleep for 12 hours straight. 

You won’t bother going into work. It seems boring. Everything seems boring. You’ll sit around and watch TV when the first belch starts. And then the next. Your cute face with scrunch up in frustration, but you won’t be able to stop burping. A searing pain will go through your head as two antennae protrude out. Your skin will darken, turning a sickly green. It’ll have a sticky sheen, like it’s been dipped in slime.  

You’ll be in the pub with your friends when you’ll suddenly fart. 

“Um…excuse me,” you’ll say in a small voice, embarrassed. But the pressure won’t stop, and a few minutes later, another gas cloud will erupt out of your ass. You’ll turn bright red, and you’ll notice with horror that your jeans seems tight. You’ll feel around you and realize that your ass is getting fatter. 

You’ll yelp and try to push your cheeks back in, but that’ll just make you fart again and make you surge even bigger. Your friends will be backing away. In a panic, you’ll grab the nearest one, and you’ll intend to beg her for help, but instead, you’ll belch in her face. 

In short answer, yes. 

But I probed your mind and I know you secretly wanted this. I know you dream of leaving a trail of slime everywhere you go. I know you imagine what it must be like to have your ass triple and a hard shell form over your back. I know you get horny when you think about burping nonstop, about oozing when you walk. I know you what you want more than anything is to be so obsessed with your own sex-slime that you won’t even be a person anymore.