Of Shale & Shade

Got bored. Had an idea in my head. Decided to put it into written (typed form).

Short story.... ish. Typed all in one go (took a few hours, so I'ma be late for work tomorrow).

Hope the overuse of pronouns (and the rest of my bizarre writing habits) don't put you off.

Contains:

Futa (not-technically-human) on Female.

Non-consenting (briefly).

Masturbation.

Transformation.

Massive pregnancy.

Somewhat large parts and excessive fluid, but not to the extent some of you are used to them.

Oh yeah... and egg-laying. ^_^

Voila:

Of Shale & Shade

She lay in the dark and stared upwards. Ten seconds. Eleven seconds. Twelve seconds. Slowly but surely her eyes adjusted to the gloom in the room and what had been pitch blackness but moments ago gradually revealed the shape of the room. The only light now came from beyond the thick curtain of the nearby window, its effects subtle in their gradual revelation of only the most blatant angles of her bedroom. The decor was comparitively spartan, the double-bed easily the most noteworthy feature in an otherwise mostly empty space. In the all-encompassing gloom of the night, the corners seemed far away, the small wardrobe a distant tower, the bedside table a hill beyond the near plains. Faint sounds of the city could be heard outside, distant sounds, far from these residential places but sufficient to leave a barely audible echo with each unpatterned strike.

Bethany Ormesson thought of herself as a reasonably ordinary sort of person. A young, working, single woman in her twenties. She was financially sound, lived alone in an urban flat, lived a healthy lifestyle and all that. Despite it all though, life seemed boring. Every night she would go to bed and simply lie there, staring into the dark and letting her mind meander over all the things she could have done... should have done... might do tomorrow, but never would. It wasn't for lack of inspiration, of course, but merely the cautious nature with which she conducted herself. But then it wasn't ever bad to be a bit cautious, was it?

Her eyes picked out the texture on the ceiling for a few moments before shifting to the undecorated light-fitting, silently cooling itself off and resting the way she probably should have been. The darkness began to stroke its way through her mind and pull her eyes slowly closed.

They opened again.

There was something, somewhere, that had changed. Bethany turned her sleepy eyes about the darkened room, but she couldn't pick out anything amiss. No doubt her imagination, teetering on the edge of dreaming, was playing tricks on her. Regardless though, she felt rather uneasy. By all rights she was too old to be afraid of the dark, and why would such a silly fear come upon her so suddenly. With a tut, she rationalised away her awkward feelings and closed her eyes again.

A soft gust of air wafted through the