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Hunger had clawed at my belly for as long as I could remember. Thirst, I quenched in the slippery mud around me. The pain though, that I couldn't reach, it was so deep in my passage and so diffuse and all-encompassing as to leave me crippled. It came in waves, ripples of suffering like fire spreading across a pond of oil. The previous burn never quite went away, it was only added to by each new blaze; it piled and piled on top of itself until I was thrashing and clawing at my navel in animalistic panic.

There came a sudden release, like a long held bladder. Something inside moved, deep inside, in a place I'd never before felt touched! It both disturbed and excited me, the sensation was pleasant amidst the pain, a soothing caress to smother the fire. It shifted again and I could feel myself stretching as if my lover was mating me from within. I stretched, I strained, and then at last my belly seized and vaginal muscles bared down. There arrived my first born; he slid out with a scrabble of tiny claws from my scarred passage.

Instinctively I reached for him, clutched him to my breast, and only after a brief delay did my mind catch upon the fact; he was not human. In my arms was clutched a foot or more of centipede like body, still soft shelled and possessing of a dozen limbs. He hissed aloud, piped, then laid limp upon me, resting. I was revolted as I stared blindly at my child. My hands caressed, counting the five segments, the middle three with six limbs each, the last oh so familiar; a caterpillar like rear with a cloacal entrance. The front possessed that six mandibled face, but I found no familiar tongue, only sharp teeth that nibbled at my fingertips. Somehow I couldn't bring myself to kill it or throw it away; it was my child! It was my--monster.

I had only a short while to contemplate the subject before I was distracted by a second squirming and shifting in my belly. A second centipedal shape crawled his way free of my womb and into the fetid air. There followed a third, fourth, and a fifth before my flaccid stomach was completely empty. Bits of leathery eggshell--soft and in pieces--littered my vaginal passage, but I didn't have the energy to pull them free. Fuzzy thoughts drifted into unconsciousness rapidly.

When I woke, it was to find my five children returning. I'd not felt them leave, but their return was far more intrusive. Familiar flesh, slippery, cold, and gritty with mud forced its way into my loose and abused vaginal passage. This time it was a small appendage, barely bigger than two fingers. A second was worming its way under and between my cheeks, prodding at my anus. A third insectile child had planted himself on my chest, his aft end smearing back and forth over my face; the earthy fecal scent potent, as well as the alluring odor of fresh insect semen. I'd smelled it so often, grown addicted to it, and dreamed of it! I couldn't help but moan and parted my lips to allow my child's phallus between.

I'd never before tasted him, my deceased lover, and so this was entirely new to me. A remaining flicker of self-respect and disgust had prevented me from considering it. Self-respect winked out as shame flooded my face along with my child's splatter of filthy semen across my tongue. Salty, sweet, musky, sour, cloying, slimy, filthy... horrible, just horrible. I desperately swallowed and nursed on him for more as a whimpering moan escaped my nose.

The others were there too, cuddling against me, nuzzling, searching. All five were desperate and aroused, I could feel the slug like penises dragging through the mud and over my skin or penetrating me. They were long enough that I was choking on the one in my throat while vaginally; it had penetrated my still gaping cervix. The third finally managed force himself through the tight, virginal sphincter of my anus. It hurt fiercely but I loved him in me, and endured willingly.

They had not nearly the endurance of their father; they spent themselves by ones and twos, then passed out curled about my legs or over my chest. I was messier than ever, the taste of their emissions filling my mouth and nose, trickling from my loose passage, and sloshing in my empty bowels. I wanted more, god I wanted more!

Their rest lasted only an hour or two before they woke and scattered. I didn't understand their frenzy, and forgot about it long before they returned. When they did, they were heavier, possibly larger. Instead of the mating frenzy I expected and craved, they crawled over me and positioned themselves, one at a time, over my mouth. I opened it willingly as the first cloaca nuzzled at my lips, and was rewarded with a sticky sweet gush. Once he was done, the next took his place. I drank from all five, filling my belly to near rupture. My hunger satisfied for the first time in memory, I drifted off to sleep--with a grin.

Every morning I woke to a breeding frenzy, every evening I fell asleep with a full belly. I was so happy, so content, and every morning excited as I discovered as if for the first time, my womb expanding again with life. The protruding, swollen mound of my vulva had grown another inch or two as well, in all directions, a fatty, soft, pleasantly plump cleft that dangled between my thighs and prevented me from closing my legs all the way. My memory was hazy, but it didn't seem like this was what I'd been born with, but I felt no discomfort, only pleasure when I masturbated.

Mindless eons passed, or perhaps days; it was impossible to tell. I woke one morning, not to mating frenzy, but to one of my children; now about the size of a small pony, holding my gravid, rubbery passage open as inner muscles rippled, clenched and pulsated rhythmically. Out emerged an egg larger than a softball, then another and another... I felt no pain, no discomfort, only a deeply satisfying sense of pleasure as each dragged free of my womb and slid down my elongated passage. They didn't go far; my beloved children washed them and carefully set them on dry ground above my head where I could reach them without rising. I made a practice of counting them, trying to keep the numbers straight. Ten I think.

Once I'd laid my last, the five took turns mating with me again, all vaginally this time, and in different places in my womb. It was such an incredible feeling as they slid up my sloppy passage. I held it up for them, the hefty mound had now become more of a protruding tube and so incredibly sensitive. I was in heaven every second my sons were inside of me, fertilizing my willing flesh. In reality, I was in a state of perpetual orgasm; rising, falling, and peaking constantly.

Time passed, and the eggs began to hatch. They were of various forms, all relatively small and frail at the start, but quickly grew to maturity. The soldiers came first; sharp, fierce, and constantly quarreling with one another when my children weren't watching over them. They were almost wasp like, but for the number of limbs and segments. Then there were more Crèche Kin like my first born children, centipede like, wingless, and perpetually lusty for mommy's flesh. And lastly there was a single, very familiar shape; something like a five segmented ant with wings that walked upright; my prince, just like the one who had sired my children on me in the first place. He was kept distant from the other children and myself, and within a day he was gone... I knew what he was doing, I dreamed of some lucky woman falling into his tender arms.

Day by day my body distorted. There was no discomfort, but some confusion and worry every time I touched myself. My vulva, once pert and cute--if I do say so myself--had become a bulbous slug of flesh, covered in stretch marks and filthy. Even my anus had been dragged along it, empty bowel stretched halfway to my knees. I couldn't walk anymore, but crawling; it trailed in the mud behind me, sending me into convulsions of pleasure every few steps and constantly drooling a trail of stale semen and my own perpetual lust. My loving sons though, no matter how long my passage grew, seemed to always be able to reach my gaping cervix and womb; for every day I had more eggs to lay.

My routine was simple and mindless now, awake or asleep it remained the same. I was bred thoroughly by each and every one of my Crèche Kin offspring, in every available orifice. I long before lost count of their number now, but it was more than fifteen. By the end of the morning orgy I would be drenched head to toe, half drowned, and vaginal body swollen with gummy semen and filth between my knees. Then the children bathed me completely, cleaned me inside and out until my skin felt raw and tingly. Then I napped for a time until eggs began to slide freely from my womb to be gathered up by my caretakers.

There were so many eggs some days, hundreds of small ones, dozens of larger ones. The small ones always hatched little slug like things about the size of my thumb; the soldiers took those for themselves immediately after hatching but they were the only light in the darkness. The little ones glowed faintly blue, like something from the deep sea with little stripes along their sides. I yearned to hold them, to stare at their dim illumination for hours--but it was never to be. I touched one once, and it bit me, tried to crawl into the flesh of my palm even! A nearby Crèche Kin rescued me. Still; I loved to watch the little clusters of eggs hatch and the tiny gleaming worms uncurl. Such beauty, the only beauty in my perpetual night.

There I came to a period of laying which began with an incredibly bloated stomach; so large I couldn't reach around it--not that I could remember being flat anymore. That bloating evolved into agony as flesh struggled to evacuate the massive egg within. I strained and stretched for hours until at last my children were fed up. They parted my legs, one on either side grappling my ankles. A third child settled between and put pressure on my pubic mound. As usual I didn't understand--not at first.

Gentle pressure became agonized crushing and firm pulling became joint ripping torture. Tendons popped, bone ground, then at last they achieved what they wanted all along; my pelvis shattered under his claws and was wrenched apart. The following period was lost in a haze of suffering that remained with me even through my fuzzy broken memory. Perhaps it was simply the duration, or the intensity, but it stayed. I woke to nightmares where I was being ripped in two. The memory resurfaced time and time again. I even for a time grew to fear my children's touch.

The result of their effort was that the massive, basketball sized egg managed to rip its way free. Then it was back to business as usual. There followed many horrible periods of consciousness interspersed between trauma induced dreams before my body began to heal. I did not heal properly however, for they forced my bones apart and pinned my legs in the splits with rocks and rubble. When at last I could move without mind searing agony, my legs didn't properly work and my belly had grown into my trailing vaginal flesh to form a breeding chamber larger than my entire body combined. My purpose in life was clear, and my body was accommodating.

I was a bloated, fleshy horror, more womb than person--and I loved it. I laid there, day after day, just stroking my pulsating, gravid flesh. It was so sensitive, slick with mucous secretions; perpetually laying, perpetually open to any of my children who wished to breed, perpetually in a state of orgasmic bliss--to one degree or another. I barely thought at that point, my mind a vestigial attachment to my wonderful purpose.

The large egg, the one that had broken me; it hatched. From the leathery shell emerged a relatively huge male shaped not unlike the Crèche Kin, centipedeal in form. The differences however were oh so very important; his size for one, and his purpose. Within minutes after hatching he pressed his swollen, engorged phallus into my trembling hole and began to mate. Nothing else mattered to him, just mating. The others fed him, fed me, cleaned us; but he never pulled himself free. I laid eggs while he pulsed and throbbed in my womb. His cloacal flesh remained embedded inside of me--for life.

My King, my dedicated sire, my husband; he grew rapidly, remaining atop, his clawless limbs enveloping me in a cage like hug. He grew to fill the tunnel above me, as my breeding flesh grew to match. I would never leave that chamber alive, nor would my King; our purposes were matched and those purposes were love. Every day, all day, around the clock; I could feel him jetting his potent seed into my flesh. I was content.