Evening Submission - The Second in the Slug Series by IreneDelacorte

[center]Evening Submission By Irene Delacorte

For Flipper as Always[/center]

The meeting over, Irene watched the staff of <span class="caps">PD</span> Enterprises leave her office. She was very pleased with herself, having risen rapidly in the Company; she was now in line for a Vice Presidency due to her latest success. She stood the image of a professional woman, smoothed her skirt, feeling the snaps on her garter belt and smiled. 

            Arriving at her house she called out to her husband, “I’m home, Dear.” No answer, but she heard a chair scrapping the floor in the kitchen. Putting down her briefcase and keys in the foyer, she goes to the kitchen, her heels beating a staccato on the wood floor.

Entering she sees her husband Martin, sitting at the table distraught.

  “Martin what's wrong?” Irene could see he was upset, his shoes and hands muddy.

  “Irene the slug food didn't show up, if it doesn't eat it will die! I don't what to do.” Martin looked up and saw the concern on his wife's face, and a panic driven idea came to him. He stood and started to put his hands on her shoulders but she pulled away.

  “Martin, stop you'll get my jacket all muddy”

  “Irene I must feed it, if I don't it will die and it is so important to my work.”

  “Oh Martin, what can I do to help, anything Darling!”

  Looking deep into her eyes he said, “Would you be food for it?”     Irene shocked, stepped back, “You want to feed me to the slug? Me…”

  Martin studied her face, “I have to, Oh Irene you said before it might be exciting, please I need your help.”

  The shocked look fading, Irene remembered her fantasy, one she never thought would be an actuality. Reality intruded on her thoughts. “There must be something else we can do, I can’t just leave, I’ve got my job, people depend on me, Martin how can I do this? “

Martin studied the face of his wife of ten years, her pleas, the set of her chin, the frightened deep blue eyes. “Irene I’ve worked on this genetic project since before we were married, it is the culmination of my life’s work, you must help me.”

Irene returned the direct stare of her husband, his penetrating brown eyes, his earnest appeal. She loved him, and agonized over the previous failures.

“Now, you want to do this now?’ resignation colored her face, her increasing pulse rate making her feel faint, she looked down and unbuttoned her wool jacket.


Hands shaking she removed the jacket and put it neatly over the back of the chair by the kitchen table, her Grandmother’s broach gleaming on the collar. She unzipped the matching wool skirt and lifted her legs one by one to remove it, placing it by the jacket. Her secret revealed she stood in her green silk bra and panties, a black garter belt and green patterned stockings and with the shining black high heel ankle boots.

During her high powered meetings, she would often think of the image she projected and the sinful clothing under the image.

She unzipped the ankle heels and sitting on the chair removed them. Unhooking her bra she took the lacy wisp and placed it on the table, rising again she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her panties and drew them down her long legs.

Clad only in the garter belt and stockings, her makeup intact, red lips shining from the gloss, she looked again at Martin. He only shook his head and looked at her body now almost fully revealed as though he had never seen it before. His eyes were evaluating it determining how well the slug would recover after it digested it.

Unsnapping the garter belt and the snaps she then rolled her stockings down her legs one at a time. She stood before him, “I’m ready Martin.”

His hands still muddy from his work with the slug this morning he left a track of mud on her shoulder as he turned her and drew her hands behind her. A leather, digestible cord quickly secured her wrists and he led her to the door leading to the lower room, the slug room where his experiments matured.

Faltering on the steps, Martin held her to him, steadying her. The slug occupied the entire right side of the room, separated from Martin’s lab by a glass wall. 

He moved to the glass wall and pressed the switch which opened a door into the slug abode, the slug did not look good.

She could see the slug was famished, its color wasn’t good, and the slime trail has a slight brownish tinge.  Martin asked, “Do you want to do this yourself, or would you like me to help?”

 I remember the day, almost five years now, when Martin had raced up from the lab, calling to me. He ran into the kitchen, took my hand and literally dragged me to the basement lab. “Look, look, Irene, I’ve Done It!”  I saw the tiny slugs, hundreds of them. And he had been so proud. Now the last one was before me, the rest gone, accident, disease, and also cannibalism had done in the others leaving the last slug. It had only taken a year to winnow the number down, we had spent hours babying the last one and it had survived and thrived.

Now Irene faced the fingerling she help to raise, a massive bulk, six meters long and two meters in width. It raised its head, mouth working, eye stacks twitching as it sensed food. 

Turning her head to Martin, “I don’t think I can do this myself, could you help me get started?”

Walking quickly to her side, Martin placed a hand on her hip and whispered, “Of course, let me help you!”  He picked her up like a baby, her long blonde hair trailing from his arm as he held her against him. The pounding of her heart a counterpoint to the drumming of his own. 

He took her to the preparation table and quickly coated her with the pig grease he had on hand for the next feeding. She glistened in his arms from her red toe nails to her blue eyes, so beautiful.  Holding her again he moved to the waiting slug.

Looking down he could see the questing maw of the great slug, tentacles like frills framing the opening. He looked down at Irene’s face and kissed her head, feeling the warmth of her skin. Moving slowly he placed her feet in the opening.

The mindless creature responding instinctively closed its mouth on the proffered feet, tasting and accepting the objects as food. Ravenous it moved forward, the tentacles around its mouth touching, as its rudimentary vision directed its movement. 

Martin held Irene in place mesmerized by the movement of the slug to consume her, now up to her calves. Whimpering quietly, Irene could feel the slug consuming her legs.

 The images building in her mind and the vision presented as she looked down her body at the massive grey object consuming her legs caused her to shudder and squirm, her tied hands wanting a last relief, a last wave to crest before the fall.

Martin oblivious to her desires simply held her in place tightening now as she squirmed. His thoughts only on the slug and the rate of consumption. It’s going to work he thought, she was the perfect slug food.

Irene could see the slug move up her body, and as it reached her upper thighs the frills around the mouth, the tentacles, probed her vagina and mound, touching its food but also providing the tactile sensation to take on her first orgasm. Her hips bucked and she threw her head back and released a primal scream. Martin held her tighter not wanting to disrupt the slug’s consumption. 

As he held her, Martin looked down at his wife’s face; her mouth held wide, her eyes staring without focus, she released a low deep sign as she came down momentarily. He could see the healthy ooze from the slug’s mouth mixing with the coating on her skin. 

With her first over, Irene could feel the next coming and also felt the sucking as she moved within the body of the slug. Her legs encased in it’s body the saliva and acids working first on the grease covering her and now on her toes and feet, a burning sensation like hot bath oils. As her hips slid in, the slug now moved rapidly up her body, Martin slid her off his lap, while he placed her bound hands within it’s body.

With her body now held firmly within the mouth of the slug, Martin released her and stood, looking at her breasts, shoulders and head protruding from the maw. His mind kept thinking that she was the perfect food, the perfect slug food.

I looked up and saw Martin stand over me looking down, like looking at another world, one I was leaving, my mind and body focused on the affect on my consumption. I’m food, all I can think of, I’m food. My breasts slipped in and its mouth frills were now waving in my face, the cilia within the body were moving me downward.  The slug lifted and my shoulders were gone, the mouth now contracting at my neck.

One last look and I was in completely, losing all identity, nothing anymore, just food for a hungry slug, something to provide life for a month till it quested after more nourishment. The throat, the central channel squeezed me down into the interior, the burning at my vaginal walls leaving me with another orgasm greater than ever before.        

I could feel the slug vibrating with my movements, accentuating them and making my body respond again and again. My mind a blur, gasping for breath I passed the final barrier in the slug’s body and moved into a sack like structure half full of digestive fluid, my final home. Bringing my knees to my chin I gasped and struggled for air, feeling my entire body on fire, but there was no air, just the smell, a fetid smell of my body being quickly broken down for the slugs use.  My mouth still wide, my last thoughts occurred as acid spilled within and burned my throat as the internal consumption joined the external.

Martin watched her disappear within, walked to the side of the slug and placed his hand on it’s side feeling the movement within. Feeling his wife move within the body of the slug, feel her shaking. Then quiet, she was feeding his slug, her final gift to him.

The next morning at breakfast, which Martin had to make himself for the first time in years, he reached for the phone. Who should I call first he thought, Martha, Irene’s twin or Susan, a difficult decision. Knowing he had time, he replaced the phone and with a smile contemplated the<span class="widont">&nbsp;</span>future.