tagNonHumanBig, Honkin' Slugs: Part 01

Big, Honkin' Slugs: Part 01


(Inspired by Encounter in the Glade and The Perils of Nude Sunbathing By Little White Mouse)






Stella Burgess and Moira O'Donnell, roommates and BFF's, back and forthed on the virtues of flesh baring in a tropical paradise. The paradise was one of a cluster of islands near Tahiti. There were three: isolated, mostly unexplored, rare exotic plants and animals. Their names were Longo, Wongo, and Mongo. Stella and Moira were on Mongo. It was just the place for a pair of adventurous (albeit reckless) young women.

Moira, the smarter one, learned of the islands in the college library; a brief reference, in an obscure tome, while researching evolutionary theory for a paper. She made a casual, half-joking, suggestion to Stella: "Hey, why not check out these islands this summer? Do a little exploring, have a little fun. Maybe we'll find something new. What do you think? It'd be a nice way to celebrate the end of college."

Stella thought for a moment: "Why not?" Stella, the richer one, paid for the trip. The girls told their families they were going to Tahiti. They made no mention of the side trip. The two ladies set a rule, no boys; the trip was strictly for girls. A plane and a helicopter later, and they were on the beach arguing about getting naked.

Now, if anyone of the male persuasion were listening, he would most likely get a chubby (and in the case of Stella and Moira's ex-boyfriends, creampants). Two people discussing nudity is one thing; two hot girls talking the same subject is a whole 'nother level; and Stella and Moira were very hot indeed.

People called Stella, The Statue. It was a compliment. She was a tall long-limbed c-cup with beautiful streamlined curves. Her 6' size, waist length blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, long narrow nose, and wide full lips, all added to an imposing package. Stella had few boyfriends simply because so many were intimidated. There was such a thing as having too much beauty. At least it allowed her to be choosy.

Moira had a burlesque beauty. She was shorter than Stella, 5'8". Her hair was a curly neck length reddish brown. A voluptuous stunner with Irish green eyes and a snub nose, sprinkled with freckles, her package literally cried mischief. There was a reason why her nickname was Puck.

The two women were BFF's since childhood. They had supported each other through skinny, gawky tweenhood, and became a superteam when they grew curves and breasts. In high school they ruled the cliques; in college they broke hearts.

"Ok, ok," said Stella, "What say we do this...I saw a pool from the helicopter. Let's say we do our own thing for a couple of hours. I'll swim, you sunbathe near the rocks. We'll meet here later and do some exploring. Is that OK?" Moira, her Irish temper near boiling, was about to make a retort, but wiser voices prevailed. "No sense in wrecking a friendship over something so stupid," she thought. "Alright Stella, two hours; but let's wait 'til tomorrow to explore. I feel like camping out first. OK?" Stella paused, "OK. Sorry. Friends?" "Always," replied Moira. They crossed pinkies. "Have fun," said Moira.

Stella quickly found a path and followed the sound of running water. She wasn't worried about predators; most of these islands had nothing larger than a chihuahua. "No lions, tigers, or bears," she thought; and then she reached the pool, "Oh my!"

The pool was far more spectacular than viewed from the air; white curtains of water cascaded over gray rocks into the deep blue bowl; flat, damp moss covered stones bordered the pool; one rock was exactly her size, perfect for a good rest after a leisurely swim. "It's beautiful!" Stella exclaimed. She began to strip almost immediately.

Stella and Moira hadn't bothered to bring bikinis. They decided before the trip that the purpose was absolute freedom; no restraints. No disapproving families, pesky boyfriends, or interfering authorities.

Stella paused to admire her body. Her golden short cut muff marked Stella as a natural. "If any of my ex's saw me like this, I'd never get any peace," Stella thought as she dove in.

The water was clear, cool glass on her skin. The pool was an almost perfect bowl with a smooth bottom. A few water plants, snails, goldfish, some strange frogs and salamanders were the only life. Stella made a note; these could be new species. The creepy and slimy never scared Stella.

Stella and Moira were amateur naturalists since childhood. Stella didn't scream if she saw a mouse; or go "ew" over garden slugs. She accepted strange creatures as facts of existence. Often, when they were kids, the girls would creep under trailers and into caves, looking for spiders, worms, or snails. The girls' activities exasperated their parents.

The two women jointly considered studying biology but the families pressured them into other majors. Moira opted for environmental law while Stella studied business. However, when time permitted, they went on hiking trips, usually to remote areas. Sometimes a persistent boyfriend would accompany the girls; they punished the intrusion by hiking the boys into exhaustion.

Stella noticed several small caves dotting the wall of the waterfall. "I should take a closer look tomorrow," she thought. She swam for a few more minutes, then decided to take a rest on the moss bed.

Stella pulled herself out, water dripping off her nude body. The rock was firm but soft; as she stretched out for a brief nap her thoughts turned to Moira, "Did she find a good spot? Maybe I'll join her later."

Moira wandered down the beach towards the rock outcropping. A strip of sand nearby looked perfect. The rock formation reminded Moira of a castle. She had a romantic streak and remembered a trip to Ireland she took as a child. She found a castle out of a fairy tale, overgrown with bushes and vines.

She approached the outcropping, drawn by nostalgia and curiosity. She noticed a peculiar shape among the bushes, a large rock near the base of the formation. Its shape was, vaguely, like a chair, almost a recliner; thick bushes surrounded the "chair", growing from cracks and crevasses.

The redhead saw that she could easily step onto the rock. "It's my own personal throne," she thought; a perfect spot to sunbathe. The rock was flat so she could easily spread her towel. The spray from the water nearby would help cool the rocks.

Moira, an experienced sunbather, didn't like tan lines. Experience taught her that the right lotions and timing were essential; she could brown her skin properly without freckles or sunburn. Her sunbathing activities were usually restricted to backyards and remote clearings.

Moira didn't mind voyeurs so long as they kept their distance; boyfriends were more problematic: some of them tended to get frisky when they saw her laid out, naked and gleaming with sweat and oil.

Stella was the only person with whom Moira was completely secure. In high school and college, when the girls sunbathed, boys would claw each other, at the fences of whatever backyard, to catch a glimpse.

Now, as she stripped and slathered lotions on her body, running her hands across those cantaloupe breasts, flat, taut belly, round bubble ass, and beautifully shaped legs, Moira smiled. Stella was the only other person on the island; no voyeurs, no pawing boyfriends. "They always want sex every time I do this," she fussed.

Moira fitted herself onto the "recliner" and took out a small time clock from her pack. "Now I get to sunbathe without the headache. I hope Stella is having as good a time as I am." Moira set the clock for twenty minutes and closed her eyes for a light doze.

Now, let's leave these two stunning beauties, reclining on their respective stone beds, skin shiny and slick with sweat, water, and suntan oil, to examine the island's history.

Moira, normally a good researcher, missed a few details. The islands were discovered by traders in the early 19th century. In 1883, a young naturalist, Dr. Derrick D. Weebster, who fancied himself as the next Charles Darwin, spent a lot of the family money to finance an expedition. He found a profusion of flora and fauna, each unique to its own island. On Longo, he found flowers; on Wongo, insects; and on Mongo mollusks and gastropods.

Weebster thought he hit the jackpot. He took some samples from Mongo and carried them back to England, where he was promptly ignored. "Well, ahem! ahem!, your specimens are alright," they told him, "but really old boy, no one is interested in slugs, snails, and worms." The embittered Doctor took his samples and his notes and put them a dark, dusty attic. He took up medicine and opened the first gynecological clinic in Britain.

The islands were ignored for about 50 something years until another naturalist, George O. Netsev-Zoltan, discovered Weebster's notes while cleaning out the Doctor's attic.

The Weebster family, embarrassed by the Doctor's scandalous behavior with his patients, gave Zoltan carte blanche to do whatever, so long as their names were kept out of publication.

Zoltan could not pass up an opportunity to steal credit for Weebster's discoveries. He begged, borrowed, stole, and conned half of the British public and a bunch of wealthy Yanks to raise money for another expedition.

Unfortunately, World War II intervened and Zoltan's boat was sunk by a Japanese submarine, along with his samples from Mongo. Zoltan survived and was captured and interned, but died soon after escaping from a POW camp in Java. He hid in a local brothel, and experienced first hand the fatal effects of the venus butterfly on near starved naturalists.

In the post war period, France conducted some nuclear tests. The area was clamped down under cold war secrecy. Needless to say, the shot of radiation had some interesting effects on the local biology.

A few scraps of information somehow found their way to Moira's college, of which the results were mentioned earlier in this story. "What could possibly go wrong?" Moira thought. Several things actually.

The helicopter pilot cum tour guide was an unscrupulous bastard who, unbeknownst to the women, neglected to file a flight plan, or register his destination with the local authorities. He took one look at this pair and thought, "Mmmboy! Land them on the island, fly off for a couple of days, come back for some fun."

What the pilot didn't know was an unfriendly rival sabotaged his copter; on the way back, the chopper ran out of gas and dropped into the sea, drowning the unscrupulous bastard; between the secrecy and the unscrupulousness, the two women essentially dropped off the earth. The ladies (who didn't know they were screwed) were on an island full of mutated animals; one of which was currently unspooling from the cracks between the rocks, ready to strike the unsuspecting Moira.

Moira was lying back on her "recliner", when several tentacles quietly slithered from between the cracks to hover over her nubile body; rust colored, segmented, and glistening with oily mucus, they undulated expectantly, waiting for a command.

Moira stirred, the time clock buzzed; just as she curled her legs to shift position, Moira felt something wrap around them. She just had time to gasp a startled, "What the...?!" before her legs were thrust, violently, apart.

Moira's beautiful green eyes nearly popped; red, slimy, slitherers were twined 'round her lovely legs. Her first thought was, "Giant earthworms?!!" Her next action was to scream; these were far different from the things found underneath trailers.

She opened her mouth and drew in air, preparing for a record breaking shriek. Moira was so focused on her legs, she didn't see the other tentacle hovering near her face. She managed a brief "EEEmowumf?!!!" before the segmented limb slammed into her mouth. The rest of the scream exhaled through her nose as a breathy hiss. Other tentacles wrapped around Moira's arms, completing her entrapment.

Moira's head was thrown back by the force of the tentacle; to her horror it began to slither down her throat. She had no choice; even though her stomach rebelled it was either swallow or choke.

Her throat muscles worked frantically, gulping down the appendage as it snaked its way through her esophagus. The salty, slimy taste was familiar to the sexually experienced Moira. Her mind flooded with questions, "What is this thing?!! Where did it come from?!! How am I going to get out of this?!!! Can I actually take this in?!!"

Moira was unable to utter any sound other than a panicked, "MMMM!!" The angle of her head prevented the red headed beauty from noticing a particularly large appendage, poised to strike at her wide open, glistening pink rose. She sounded a muffled squeal as her most intimate part was penetrated.

The tentacle rammed its way through her vulva; steamrolled over her clit (which swelled, to her surprise, creating a warm, wet burst, as the segments passed across it). Another tentacle slithered its way through her ass crack in a reverse defecation. Her sphincter fought a valiant battle but ultimately gave up in defeat. The segments brushed against the walls of her anus as the tentacle reached the rectum.

Moira's frantic squeals reached a higher octave; the other tentacle reached her stomach. Impaled on both ends, Moira moaned as the slime covered serpentines began to pump her body.

To Be Continued...

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