I wrote this story for my friend Jen, she’s the best. Please be aware that this story contains body horror, zoophilia-adjacent thoughts, and some very slimy descriptions of sex between a human woman and a giant slug. If you are not prepared to read that, you should leave now.

Laurel worked at a pet store, and that’s where he went looking for advice.

“I walk in the park sometimes, during lunch,” the man said, cradling the spiral-housed creature in his palm. “She was out on a branch of one of the trees down by the creek. I… I don’t know. I picked her up, and then I didn’t want to let her go.”

Laurel had never met the man before, but she liked him immediately. He had a nice watch and shoes that shone even in the poor lighting of the pet shop, and he mentioned as they chatted that he was on his lunch break from his job in a lawyer’s office. That fact initially put Laurel off, but it turned out he was soft. He was tall, and had golden-green eyes and curly brown hair that Laurel wanted to touch. His round cheeks and sweet smile gave him a boyish charm, and he liked snails. When he looked at her, Laurel felt like he really saw her, like she was important, not just some sales clerk in a pet store.

“Do you know what kind she is?” He asked.

“Yes,” Laurel answered, taking a step back to give herself some space. “She’s a Haplotrema concavum, common name Gray-foot Lancetooth.”

“It’s pretty. The shell, it’s shiny. And she was friendly, and a little lonely, so I thought…” He cleared his throat. “Anyway. Should I take her back? Or do you think I can keep her?” 

“I think she likes you,” Laurel said, teasing. “You can keep her.” She glanced up to find him staring at her intensely. It made her feel funny, like he was looking right into her soul. But then he smiled again and the tension melted.

“Haplotrema, huh? I’ll call her Trema. So what do I need?”

When he left thirty minutes later it was with the same set-up that Laurel had for the shop snails. She even gave him the little castle out of her terrarium, after he admired it and it turned out they didn’t have it in stock. 

“Thanks,” he said, once everything was packed in his car. “For everything.”

According to his credit card, the snail man’s name was Bryn Evans. Laurel watched Bryn drive away and thought about how Trema had looked sitting in his palm, the slimy trail it had left on his fingers. She wondered how many of them he could hold in one hand, how the snails would cluster together, crawling over his skin, leaving him slick and slippery. He could slip those hands over her, transfer that sleek gloss to her skin, combine the viscous fluid of the snails with her own, spread it all over, make him wet with it too.

Shaking these thoughts out of her head, Laurel closed the store and prepared herself for her long walk home.

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The next weekend, Bryn was back. He said he had an idea for a long-term project, but he was cagey about it. Laurel didn’t mind; she liked having an excuse to see him, and the sales didn’t hurt either. So he loaded up his car–an Audi, nice–with more substrate and food. 

A week later he was back for more.

He came back every weekend over the summer and into autumn. If it was a slow day, which it usually was, they would play with Laurel’s snails in the corner, or he would look through the catalogs with her and help her pick out some things for her next order with the wholesaler. He usually came around lunchtime, and he always brought Laurel a nice fresh salad–the best meal of her week. Eventually, though, Bryn would have to go, and Laurel would help him load up and then she’d wave goodbye as he drove away.

She spent her evenings thinking about his hands, covered with slime.

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It was the end of September when Bryn announced his project was finally finished, and he invited Laurel over to see it. 

Bryn lived in one of the old brownstones that lined the streets close to the old city hall. Inside the house was clean and bright, old but well-maintained. Comfortable–like Bryn. 

Bryn closed the front door and paused in the middle of the foyer, staring at Laurel. It was the same kind of intense look that he gave her the first time they met, when it felt like he was looking into her soul.

“Laurel,” he said, stepping forward and wrapping a hand around her wrist. “You like snails.”

It was almost an accusation, the tone of it twisted her gut but her only reply was a nod. 

“You like them a lot.” He took another step, crowding her, and when Laurel shuffled backwards her shoulder hit the door. “You like them to crawl on you. You like to watch them crawl on me.”

Laurel froze. She thought she’d been subtle, but he must have seen it anyway. Her attraction; her obsession. And now she was in his house, alone, and he was calling her on it. 

Laurel was afraid.

Bryn licked his lips.

“I like to watch them crawl on you, too.”

The fear in Laurel’s chest eased, and something else swooped in to take its place.

“I want to show you,” he whispered. “Let me show you.”

Wordlessly, Laurel let Bryn take her hand and lead her through a wooden door off the foyer. Behind the door was a narrow staircase. When they reached the bottom they were totally wrapped in darkness. The air was noticeably colder; the humidity draped over Laurel’s skin like damp cloth.

Bryn led her through a second door, down another short flight of stairs. Then there was a click and the room was lit in an ethereal glow. 

Laurel gasped.

Bryn’s basement was a terrarium.

The floor was the same substrate that Laurel used, the stuff that she’d sold to Bryn by the bagful every week for months. The decor was familiar too, stone walls and a treasure chest and even a castle, but these were much larger than the ones she sold at the store. There were also logs and branches strewn around, and the rot of them tickled Laurel’s nose. The ceiling was abnormally high, at least ten feet. The gentle babble of running water filled the space.

“Oh my god,” Laurel murmured, turning around slowly to take it all in. “Wow.”

It was then that she noticed the snails. Dozens of them, maybe hundreds. They were crawling along the floor, over the logs and up the walls. She wondered if Trema was there, if these were her children; where he had found all these snails. Everywhere she looked, there was a telltale shine that could only be made by a thick layer of slime. “Fuck,” Laurel whispered. She took a deep breath, and turned to face Bryn.

He looked nervous, and hopeful. 

“I love it,” Laurel said, her heart ready to burst out of her chest. “I love it so much.”

“Good.” He took a step closer, being careful not to step on any of the snails. “I’m really glad you like it.”

“You made this for me?” She couldn’t believe it.

“Yes. But that’s not all.”

“Oh?” Laurel couldn’t imagine anything more perfect than this. “What else is there?”

“It’s about me.” He ran a hand through his hair, and something in Laurel began to tighten again. “I think… I think you’ll like it. You see, I’m a slug.”

Laurel erupted with a bark of laughter, but she silenced it when his face fell. She chided herself. She’d never done role play, although she’d read a few articles about it. If the cost of being with Bryn was pretending that he was a slug, Laurel figured that would be a price worth paying.

“I’m sorry,” she said, scooting close enough to Bryn that she could rub a thumb against his soft pink cheek. “I shouldn’t have laughed. You just surprised me.”

Bryn nodded warily. “Do you want to see?”

“Uh, sure?”

“Okay.” In one quick movement he pulled his shirt off over his head, tossing it away without looking where it landed. “Just need to take off my clothes.”

Before a minute was up he was completely disrobed, even his socks, and Laurel had to admit that she liked the way he looked. She couldn’t help but take a peek at what was between his legs, and… oh.

There was something a little strange about his cock. 

It grew as she watched, thickening and elongating and turning… white?

“Sorry, that’s how it starts,” Bryn said, apologetically. His cheeks were very pink and his breathing sped up. “Once the transformation is complete I won’t be able to talk, but I’ll be able to understand you so please talk to me. Okay?”

“Bryn?” Laurel said, very confused. “Bryn?”

He changed. His muscles and bones softened, legs fusing together and arms disappearing into the side of his body. His skin took on a deep gray shine.

“Talk to me, Laurel,” he said one more time, before his mouth disappeared and he collapsed onto the ground.

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Although Laurel had had a thing for slugs and snails for as long as she could remember, she’d never thought about having sex with one. But being faced with a giant slug–a giant slug that she knew was Bryn Evans–sex with a mollusk was the only thing she wanted.

She stripped as quickly as she could, but took the time to fold her clothes and lay them carefully on top of the little castle. Bryn watched her, his little eyes twitching at the end of stalks. When she finally got close to him again and could see the golden-green of the eyes, she knew that this really was Bryn.

“Hello, Bryn,” she said. “Do you want to play?”

He lunged at her hard enough to knock her down. She laughed, then checked quickly to make sure she hadn’t landed on any snails. But they had gathered on the far wall, leaving the rest of the space clear for her and Bryn. Bryn began to crawl over her, starting at her feet and then slowly working his way up her body. 

He was cool and slimy and perfect, and Laurel groaned at the weight of him. “So good,” she moaned, his foot pressing against her mons, then her stomach. “So fucking good.”

He paused at her chest, and she thought perhaps he was afraid he was too heavy, and might crush her. She reached up to cradle his head, pulled it down closer to her. His eyes gazed at her from their stalks.

“You don’t have to worry about hurting me,” she said. She spread her legs apart and wrapped them around the thickest part of his body. His foot fringe tickled around the backs of her knees, making her shiver. “I’m not going to break.” He moved again, another slide up her body, and when he did she could feel his cock probing between her legs. It felt good, combined with the slickness of the slime, and Laurel shifted her hips and moaned, urging him to press on into her.

But Laurel knew a bit about slug reproduction, and through the haze of her own lust, she had an idea.

“Do you want to do it sluggy-style?”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth Bryn lurched off of her and slid towards the wall. Laurel watched him from her bed of substrate. She was slimy and dirty and gross but she felt happier than she had in ages–maybe ever. 

Bryn slid up the wall and then made his way across the ceiling, until he was right above her. 

“Hello, Sexy.” She wiggled her fingers at him. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Bryn preened for a few seconds, and then he got to work. Laurel moved over so she could watch as he attached a slime thread to the ceiling, and then slowly released his grip. Eventually his entire body was hanging. He expressed thread until his head was almost touching the ground, his thick slug penis hanging heavily down the entire length of his body.

It was a thrilling sight.

Laurel didn’t want to wait any longer. She jumped up and grabbed Bryn, and although he was very slippery, he was ready for her. He quickly wrapped his penis around her, and helped her to turn herself around so she was hanging upside down, too.

“Hey,” she breathed, face-to-stalks with Bryn again. 

Bryn flopped from side to side, a happy dance which made Laurel giggle. The length of his penis held her tight, but the tip of it was angled between her legs, just enough to rub along her slit and up her clit. 

“Bryn, please,” she whined, grinding her hips against the top and reveling in the slippery slickness of his skin. “I’ve waited so long, wanted you for so long. Please.”

Bryn took pity on her, and pushed the tip of his penis into her. There was so much slick it slid right in; it was thicker than any cock she’d taken before but he was gentle with it, and paired with the rubbing against her clit she came in no time at all.

As soon as she was done shaking, Bryn lowered them both to the ground, and a minute later he was a human again. 

She liked him like that, too.

“That was amazing,” she whispered much later, stroking a gentle finger along the shell of a Helicodiscus lirellus that had found its way onto Bryn’s shoulder. “I never knew it could be like that. That I might find somebody who understands me.”

“I never thought I would find somebody who understands me, either,” Bryn said. “I’m glad it was you.”

Laurel was glad it was her, too.

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