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It had seemed so simple a plan. Jiran, a fennec, and her best friend Wren, a rabbit with soft white fur and black speckles, had planned on seeking out a mummerfly. When they’d found it, the plan had been for Wren to let it take her, using the scent of an ur-wolf’s head to draw the thing in. Jiran would record with the drones as it happened, and then when it was all done, she’d call for help, saying Wren had been attacked by a desperate mummerfly.

All that they brought had been what you’d expect for a few days hike, maybe a week, with only Jiran’s brother knowing the true nature of the trip. If something happened, he’d come find them both. It had been such a good idea.

But at the end, with Wren’s body gravid with the insect’s eggs, and Jiran masturbating and aroused, smelling like another bitch in heat, the bug was focused on her. That chitinous, gleaming insect, like an over sized dragonfly with a too-large abdomen, was looking at her, intent on a new incubator. Jiran had wanted to do it as well, but she couldn’t be on camera. Unlike Wren, who was going through school on a full scholarship, the fennec was old money, and any Stehlman that did something like that would quickly find themselves disinherited. Well, any Stehlman that did that so flagrantly and obviously at least.

But here she was, legs spread, the sandy fur around her mound sticky with her arousal. The drone spheres were still focused on Jiran’s best friend, thankfully not capturing her in any frames. She’d made sure to program them to keep her out of any video they shot.

The mummerfly was watching her, inspecting her as she lay there, frozen with a mixture of fear, curiosity and, she had to admit, desire. Wren smiled at her through the haze of her need, murmuring softly, “You really should, Jiran. It’s wonderful. It’s everything you wanted. Turn off the drones.” The rabbit’s eyes were half glazed-over, and her lips were limned with the ichor left exuded by the insect’s ovipostor.

“Y-you’re just saying that b-because you’re… not thinking right. I shouldn’t, Wren. What about the plan?” She let out a surprised squeak when the mummerfly’s wings buzzed and it skittered a little bit closer. She’d watched her friend get filled with the insect’s eggs, she’d seen what would be in store. But it would be even worse if she decided to let it; the only one who knew what Wren and her had planned was her brother, Kol. It would be a couple days before he came looking for them, and during that time, all manner of animals would have their way with the two women. They’d both be helpless, wanting it more than anything in the world.

Wren grinned, wiping the ichor from her lips and then licking her fingers off. She slowly crept toward Jiran, saying softly, “So what if I am? You know you want to. I saw you when you realized that it wanted you for an incubator.” She was next to the insect now, and she reached out and touched one of its wings lovingly, “All the aching. All the swelling. Even now, you know, some thing has probably scented me. You need to, Jiran. Kol will find us eventually. Just turn off the drones. Let it happen.”

Jiran let out a tiny little whimper. Wren was right, even if she was half or even all the way in the thrall of the venom and chemicals that were flooding her system. The fennec had wished it was her being held by the mummerfly, her being pumped full of eggs. But this was insane, far past anything they’d planned. Kol would be furious with her, but… if she turned off the cameras, nobody would know she’d done it on purpose. She’d edit herself out of everything already filmed. She’d brought herself to a crashing orgasm twice already, and she’d only have them over and over.

The mummerfly regarded her impassively, seeming to sense her reticence. It buzzed its three pairs of wings a bit, abdomen twitching. Wren cooed at her and said in a hushed whisper, “If you don’t let it soon, it’ll just… fly away. I think it’s already not sure. Do it. Do it. Let’s just stay like this. A few days. We’re on our break, Jiran. Make it a vacation.” The urgency, the desire in the rabbit’s voice was genuine.

Jiran reached down to her quim, drawing her fingers between the petals with a groan. The mummerfly on her, holding her tight and helpless, mouth darting down to bite her. Venom filling her veins, making her even hornier than she already was. Pleasure and need and no inhibition. Wolves, lizards, all manner of animals seeking her out afterward and filling her with their spend. And the thought of her own brother finding her like that in a few days, filthy and crazed with lust.

Silently, Jiran unstrapped her terminal from her arm and tapped a few buttons. The drones all beeped and fell to the ground, inert. Seconds later, her terminal’s screen flickered and shut down, no longer sustained by her body. She looked over at the mummerfly, then at the beaming face of her best friend. “Go on, that’s right Jiran,” Wren whispered. “It’ll be so perfect.”

The fennec moved herself forward a little so her legs hung fully off the edge of the rock she’d laid back on. Her tail hung down slightly, and she felt a blush heat her face when it began to wag excitedly, betraying how much she liked the idea. If she was going to do this, she wanted to do it in a way she’d always wondered if it was possible to do. She laid her arms at her side and spread her legs, baring herself to the insect and going still.

“Like that, Jiran? On your back? I don’t know if it will understand…” Wren said dubiously. Jiran craned her neck so she could see the insect. It was at most a few metres away now, but it had gone still, inspecting her. It could scent her excitement, it knew there was a female in heat here, but she wasn’t in the position it was looking for. It must think that Jiran was the strangest breeding creature ever.

Seconds ticked by with the mummerfly just studying this strange new breeder it had found. Her scent was right, she wasn’t moving, but she wasn’t in a mating position. It had released its own mimicked pheromones, adapted to the scent it detected from her. The breeder was looking right at it. It skittered a few more steps toward her, and the breeder averted her gaze. Oh yes, yes, this was a breeder, it had to be. In its limited intellect it knew that it would have to be quick, assailing the new breeder like it would if it were desperate to lay.

Jiran thought that maybe she’d have to get on all fours to lure the insect, but suddenly its wings buzzed and it dashed for her in a rush. She let out a loud squeal of shock as it all but leaped on her, legs scrabbling and dragging, tearing her light tank top in its haste. The grip wasn’t careful in the least, and the insect’s wings buzzed constantly. When finally the legs found purchase, they held her in an almost vise-like grip, two legs actually pressing on the inside of her thighs, holding them open, two around her back and two over her shoulders, curling around, with the mummerfly’s head inches from her face. Its body lay between her small breasts, and she could feel the softer underbelly against her. She saw herself reflected in its alien eyes an instant before its head flashed forward, delivering four bites to her neck and shoulder in rapid succession.

The fennec screamed, a ragged sound that pierced the air. The dose of venom, four times as much as had been given to Wren, spread through her like wildfire. “Oh, Jiran, it likes you… I don’t know why it’s being so rough…” the rabbit said in a singsong tone. “It was so much nicer to me…”

Jiran squirmed and bucked for a few seconds, but then the initial fiery pain subsided and a new sensation washed over her. In a matter of seconds, she felt every single inch of her body grow infinitely more sensitive. When it hit her cunt, she let out a loud howling and yipping sort of scream as blindingly powerful arousal made her insides clench and pulse. She couldn’t make herself move; she couldn’t even form words, the potency of that venom turning everything to pure bliss and desire.

There was a wet slurping sound, and then a sudden pressure, not at her vagina as she’d expected, but lower. The ichor-slick ovipostor pressed against her anus with surprising force, demanding entry. This wasn’t how it had happened for Wren, her panicked mind realized. That tight ring of muscle spasmed and clenched, fighting against the intrusion despite her original desire for exactly what was happening. But there was no stopping the slick and powerful organ, and it forced her wide open. Despite the force and the blazing pain, she felt herself growing more and more desperately excited, her quim literally drooling her excitement over the ovipostor as it pressed deep into her.

“Oh Jiran, oh, it’ll be okay, you’ll feel better soon… I know it hurts, it must be used to going for the lower hole first. I’m so sorry…” Wren cooed right into her ear. Jiran hadn’t even noticed when Wren had laid next to her. She took Jiran’s hand and held it to her swollen belly, drawing it over the taut flesh. Even as she felt the lumpy shapes of the eggs that were within, packed tightly in every hole the bug had been able to put them in, Jiran felt the ovipostor in her churning her insides in places she’d never imagined possible. “Ohhh, I see it Jiran, the first one!” Wren said, excitement in her voice.

With the ring of muscle aflame from the intrusion, Jiran hadn’t even had the time to consider what the added width of the eggs would feel like. She felt the mummerfly’s ovipostor flex and then new pressure on her rear. The stretching sensation became even more intense, and Jiran could do nothing more than let out a long, high pitched howl. She had a smaller body than the rabbit, which made it that much worse. Just when she thought she would tear, when it was nearly too much to bear without passing out, the pressure released and she felt a soft pulse of relief. If she’d taken the mummerfly like Wren had, by now she knew she’d have started to feel better, the pain would have been good. “No, no, not anorrur un…” she slurred as she felt the second prying her open again.

“Let me help you, Jiran,” Wren murmured. “I think it works on you better on you when you reach a peak…” There was a gap between Jiran’s dripping-wet sex and the mummerfly’s abdomen, and Wren wriggled her hand into that gap. The surprised and pleased groan that came from the fennec’s throat made the rabbit grin. She drew her delicate fingers between Jiran’s labia, and soon found the firm little nub of her clit and began to massage it. “There, doesn’t that feel good?”

Jiran’s mind was reeling, and she felt her muscles twitch, the closest she could get to an involuntary bucking of the hips. The feeling of Wren’s fingers stroking and massaging and touching while the aching stretch of the second egg grew more intense was making it so hard to think. This is what she’d wanted, what she’d given herself over to do, why couldn’t she allow herself to derive pleasure from it? “Uhhh… huhhh…” she groaned. A blaze of painful stretching as the egg reached its apex and then temporary relief. Before she could even recover, the third was pressing at her and she gurgled.

Wren drew in a deep breath, her voice excited, “oh, it’s going faster than with me. I think I know what happened. You confused it… you made it treat you like it was desperate. Such a mean fennec, confusing our lover like that…” All the while she kept massaging Jiran’s clit, occasionally drawing her fingers down to press them into the fennec’s passage. An idea came to her then, and she reached lower, gathering up the ichor as much as she could from the mummerfly’s slit and then smeared it across Jiran’s mound.

While the third egg began to pry her rear wider, Jiran let out a gurgling groan as the yellow ichor was smeared all over her petals and even a little bit into her. Everywhere it touched she grew more sensitive, and it wasn’t long before she felt an inner pressure building. Dim awareness and a single clear thought shone through. If I come when it’s stretching me it’ll hurt even more. She tried to say 'Wren, stop', but she couldn’t form the words yet, coming out only as "Ennn, opp!" Pressure without and a different sort of pressure within, and nothing she could do to hold back either. She twitched and squirmed and rolled her eyes, trying to hold back the pleasure, but Wren knew what she was doing, having used those fingers on her more than a few times.

It was only sheer luck that the third egg passed its apex a mere second before Jiran came, a very small gush of her nectar spilling out onto Wren’s fingers. Jiran howled, this time in ecstatic pleasure. The orgasm was more intense than any she’d felt that day, if not in the last few months, and though her rear still ached, even more so as her muscles clenched and pulsed around the ovipostor, she found herself wanting more. Wren had been right, it seemed, because after that climax, Jiran felt a little clarity coming back to her mind, just a little, and with it a strange and unnatural happiness. It wasn’t quite enough for her to want the agonizing stretch, but it helped her endure, gave her a little relief when the next few came. All the while Wren kept whispering in her ear, stroking her fingers between Jiran’s petals, occasionally working more of the ichor into the sensitive flesh.

The mummerfly pumped so many into Jiran, whose cries grew less and less strident with each, that at the end the throbbing ache was almost maddening. She wondered when that would change and she’d start to love the sensation. When the mummerfly tugged the tip of its ovipostor free Wren withdrew her fingers, understanding somehow the punishing pace the insect was driven to would have it quickly continuing. Without even a half a second for Jiran to rest, it shoved the fat tip against Jiran’s passage and drove it deep. Aided by the fennec’s own lubrication and that of the ichor wren had spread all over her and in her, it was almost effortless.

“Oh fuuuck,” Jiran yelled, feeling her body try to buck and squirm, but the insect had her in a vise like grip. Her inner walls parted for the flexible organ, and this time it was only pleasure, only the satisfaction of a desperate need that had only grown worse as whatever was in the ichor had started to work on her. If Jiran could have seen her quim right then, she’d have seen puffy labia like Wren already had. Finally able to move her head just a bit, she looked to Wren, who peered back at her with wide, almost mad eyes.

The rabbit’s eyes had again glazed over a little, and she was panting a bit. Her hands went to her breasts and massaged them, teasing and twisting the nipples. She kept trying to reach over her swollen belly, but it was hard for her. Jiran knew the look, one she’d only seen once before, when they’d tried an aphrodisiac Kol had procured for them. Wren was in heat, powerful and unrelenting, and only her excitement at watching Jiran was letting her keep any focus at all. My god, I’m going to look like that.

As the mummerfly’s ovipostor slid deep, Jiran let out another cry. She knew what was coming, knew that it would hurt, if not nearly as much as when it had been under her tail. There were a few more prodding thrusts, and one of them rubbed against the same spot that had driven Wren wild, drawing a shuddering moan from Jiran’s throat. Then it came, the expected stab of pain as the ovipostor’s tip found its mark and shoved even deeper. But the pain was muted somehow, not nearly as bad as Jiran had expected. “Oh god, it’s working, Wren,” she gasped. She felt the first egg already starting to pry her passage wider. She’d always been able to take more than Wren in her quim, her body one built to take knots easier, and so as the first egg slipped in with a lewd, nearly slurping sensation, she let out a hungry, desperate moan. The next egg followed almost immediately after the first; the mummerfly was most definitely pumping them in faster. By the time the first egg stretched the ovipostor right against that most sensitive area within her, Jiran felt a fourth one prying her open… and she came again, loud and desperate and hungry for more. “Oh fuck, Wren oh shit…” Her inner walls clenched and massaged the ovipostor even more tightly for the duration, which seemed to go on longer than before.

Egg after egg swelled the entrance to Jiran’s vagina and passed into her, so fast that even as she felt her cervix painfully stretched, it was accompanied by pressure on her g-spot that drove her closer and closer to climax one more time. She soon lost count, lost any semblance of coherent thought while the mummerfly did its thing. By the time she’d been packed to aching, throbbing fullness, she was only half conscious, having felt the last few eggs as one unending sort of climax.

Jiran was only dimly aware when the mummerfly’s legs released her and it quickly swiveled around. Its grip this time wasn’t as hard as before, and its head rested on her now swollen belly. Wren helpfully held her head still and to Jiran’s surprise, the insect let her help guide its rear legs to where they needed to hold the fennec’s head still. “Open your mouth, dear. It’s almost done. Just a little longer.”

The fennec whimpered, knowing how unpleasant this next part was going to be, but it was with eagerness that she opened her mouth, sticking her long tongue out to give the fleshy, ichor-coated organ an easy passage. She really marveled at how clean of anything it remained, just that thin coating that kept replenishing itself… and then it was shoving into her mouth, coating her tongue with that foul-sweet-sour tasting ichor. It wasted no time forcing its way down her throat. Her eyes went wide and she gurgled like Wren had that first time.

“Oh sweetie…” Wren cooed, “You’re doing so well. You didn’t cry. I did. But you got more of its bites.” The only response Jiran could give was another gurgle, eyes rolling and wild. “I’d finger you more, but I think the thing might bite me again.” Wren almost clapped her hands she was so delighted. When the first egg started pushing past Jiran’s lips, the rabbit said something into Jiran’s ear that reminded her of what was to come, and it nearly made her panic.

“I can feel them. Smell them. They’re waiting, just in the underbrush. They’re not going to come for us until it flies away. Ur-wolves. They smell their strange little bitches in heat. You’ll be more familiar to them…” Wren murmured in her ear.

Gurgling, Jiran started to squirm, but the mummerfly held her completely in its grip. Wren’s fingers laid on her throat so she could feel the first egg distending it. As with the rabbit, there weren’t many for Jiran’s stomach, and within a minute the slimy organ pulled out of her mouth, slapping one of her cheeks when it came out. She stared at her friend and knew that she looked just like Wren.

Jiran felt a deep wonder and sense of fulfillment begin to creep into her emotions. Warmth and wetness only grew in her loins. She only needed to look at Wren, who had returned to her blanket and was watching the forest, to know how she herself looked; swollen abdomen that was more than just her womb. Lips, ass and mound smeared with yellow ichor. Massively swollen labia that dripped with excitement, the lubrication having its own yellowish tinge. The mummerfly buzzed its wings a few times suddenly, then launched itself into the air, its job done. It would stay in the area, of course, to ensure its brood was safe, but for now, it would leave its incubators to do their job.

She knew that inside her, the eggs would have started to grow little feelers that would rest where the animals would blow their load, little tendrils that would drink in the semen and hormones and everything that the males that mounted her and her friend gave them. Until Kol came to rescue them, that’s all they’d be able to digest and feed on. Water and semen.

Rolling onto her side, Jiran watched with wide eyes as two huge ur-wolves stepped out from the underbrush. Their bluish-green veiny cocks were already pushed out of their sheaths. “Oh good, Jiran, it’s one for each of us.” But even as the words were spoken, Wren went still, an excited grin on her lips. A third had stepped out from behind the first two. And then a fourth. Before she knew it, there were eight of them, all males. All obviously focused on them.

A whole pack had come for them.