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Together, Dixon's weight supported by Tekel, they made their way to the bathing area. They waded waist-deep into a branch of the river that forked away from the village and Dixon slumped backward against his guide. He had no strength. He and Tekel had spent the night fucking and rehoming their brood, and now the sun was just past the horizon and already it was warming up. The cool water on Dixon's skin was too large a contrast to the heat.

Tekel leaned in and kissed Dixon's neck. "Come. Let us bathe."

Dixon groaned, turned in Tekel's arms, and rested his chin on the tribesman's shoulder. "I can barely stand and you want me to bathe." He was sore in bizarre areas and was just regaining the manual dexterity he'd lost while transporting larvae. "Do it for me," he said through an exhalation that was something like laughter.

"All right. Turn your back into me."

Dixon intended to tell Tekel he was kidding, but didn't have the willpower. He turned around and leaned against Tekel's chest. Tekel, the strong warrior with the gentlest touch, scooped water onto Dixon's aching body and washed away last night's sweat and other foreign fluids. He leaned back against a large river rock, submerging them both chest-deep, and poured water through and finger-combed water out of Dixon's hair.

Everything was confusing. Dixon's eyes were closed but it was still bright. He was near the verge of sleep, but there was an undercurrent of energy that kept him awake. There were Tekel's hands on him--rough and calloused by work--and some muttered words in his ear that he couldn't translate.

It was a force of will to pull away from Tekel, but Dixon managed. He rested against the rock and looked over at the tribesman, who smiled.

"I will bathe and we will head back to the village."

Dixon nodded and Tekel waded into deeper water, up to his neck, and began to bathe. He watched, fascinated, while Tekel combed out his long hair in the water. The strands floated all around the warrior and slipped between his fingers like fluid. Were Dixon not exhausted, it might have been erotic.

The sky continued to brighten. How had Dixon survived two nights of the festival? And how was it possible that anyone could survive two more? He was going to die. By the end of this, he was going to be drained of all vitality in a puddle of larvae.

Tekel waded back toward him and Dixon acknowledged something at the back of his mind that he'd been ignoring. They were both completely nude. Neither of them had brought a scrap of clothing, and Dixon cringed internally about the walk to the village he'd have to endure. How would the villagers look at the nude foreigner walking in the streets?

"You look concerned." Tekel reclined on the rock beside Dixon.

Concerned was a way to put it. In any other circumstance, Dixon might have been panicked at the thought of heading back to the village nude, though he'd only remain that way until he reached Tekel's hut on the outskirts. Instead, he was concerned.

"It was a big oversight that I didn't put pants on before we left."

Tekel laughed. "Do not be concerned. During the--" Tekel paused to call the festival by its native name "--our people abandon the shy we have."

Modesty, Dixon thought. The tribespeople abandoned modesty during the festival. He'd yet to see anything especially indicative of that--sans Ipael's unabashed arousal--but he anticipated that things would get more intense now that they were at the halfway point.

"Those who see you while we walk back may be more interested in you tonight."

"Why?" Dixon asked through a sigh. He didn't need things to be any harder for him.

"The size of your..." Tekel tapped Dixon's cock with the back of his hand and Dixon jolted and looked up at him. "What is your word for this?"

There were any number of clinical or obscene words Dixon could use. "Genitals," he decided. "You could use the word for both men and women."

Tekel picked up where he stopped. "The size of your genitals. I am sure many women and some men will be interested."

Dixon exhaled a laugh. The last thing he wanted was villagers ogling his cock and wondering whether or not they could seduce him. In the back of his mind, though, he wondered what percentage of the population was interested in the foreigner in their midst.

Dixon stood and eased into a stretch to prepare for the long, nude walk home. "What about you?" he asked while he leaned back into a catlike position in preparation to stand. The rock was killing his knees. "Doesn't your size get you attention?"

Tekel stood, also, and offered an arm to Dixon, who took it and braced himself. They used each other to balance and began to climb out of the river.

"I am shy with who I go with."

Dixon wasn't sure whether or not that meant Tekel was more steadfast in refusing advances than Dixon had demonstrated, but he didn't attach weight to the words. Tekel spoke a significant amount of English, but the cultural barrier remained.

"Are we heading back now?"

"Yes."

Their touch lingered until they reached the riverbank, where they separated.

"Let's go."

While they walked, the arid air dried their skin and the breeze reminded Dixon of his nakedness at intervals. His Western views of nudity and clothing caught up with him when they neared the first huts and slammed him with embarrassment when they passed farther in. The village plan consisted of a central area where the leaders and their families resided, with varied tiers of housing surrounding it in rings. The rings closer to the center were closer together than the rings farther out. As an unmarried hunter, Tekel lived in the second from the last ring of huts, so Dixon bypassed many of the villagers en route to his home. In total, he saw less than ten people before he was able to retreat into Tekel's hut and fetch his clothing. It smelled of sweat, but was better than parading around nude and chancing sunburn.

Dressing for Tekel was as simple as retying his grass skirt. Tekel then waited for Dixon, who fumbled in the dimness to put his clothing on. After what felt like five minutes, Dixon gave up, swallowed what remained of his modesty, and exited the hut to dress in the light.

"I must see the traps," Tekel said once Dixon had gotten his sleeves on. "I will see you at the festival this evening." Tekel touched Dixon's arm--Dixon's brain buzzed with last night's memories--gave him a smile, and headed away.

Dixon wanted him again tonight. His body was too exhausted to entertain excitement now, but his brain pulsed with scenarios.

---

Dixon tended to his duties. He helped transport resources around the village and napped in his hut after lunch--a blackout sleep that he woke from feeling revitalized. Two hours remained before sunset, so Dixon helped around the village awhile more until the tribespeople began to pack in preparation for the night. Anticipation buzzed in the village air--an anxious hum that quivered around Dixon when the sun started to set and he and the other villagers began to gather around the village center. Stoves were already outside, and the villagers stoked their flames and oiled their cooking surfaces.

Dixon found a seat beside Tekel, with Ipael on the other side. Dixon tried not to see the longing look Ipael gave him, and he wondered if Ipael had found any partners to satisfy her during the festival. Now that he'd experienced the aftermath of ant pods with someone, he couldn't imagine spending a night alone. The sensations, sounds, sights, and smells were fresh in his mind, and his head swam with desire for the festivities.

The sun set and the village center remained illuminated only by coals and leaf lanterns that cast long shadows. Memories almost overwhelmed Dixon. The larvae had stuffed him so full. They'd stuffed Tekel so full. They'd squirmed out of the tribesman and squirmed up into Dixon until his bladder was packed and he'd--

A hand slid into his lap and Dixon flinched and shifted his attention toward Tekel. Desire glinted in the tribesman's eyes and made Dixon's cock throb harder. He tore his eyes away from his translator and instead looked around the village square. He noted other villagers in predicaments similar to his own. They'd all yet to indulge in the ant pods, but the anticipation was aphrodisiac. Some villagers had given up modesty and let their cocks stand open in the air, and several women were huddled close to their partners, with either their partner's or their own hands up their skirts. Dixon envied that female stamina that he could only experience in part when the festival had reached its peak in his system.

Tekel slid his hand out of Dixon's lap and he simultaneously longed for the touch and was glad temptation was no longer so close. Ipael was breathing heavy next to him, and Dixon swore he could smell how wet she was, like the larvae not only impacted him while in his system, but had heightened his sensitivity to others' arousal even after they'd left. If she approached him again tonight, he wouldn't be able to resist her. His mind wandered into a half-fantasy of kissing her and her grinding her wetness against his thigh. It flickered between her and Tekel and then maintained images of both of them touching him at once, and--

The villagers stood and cheered. Dixon pulled himself from his haze and celebrated with the rest of them. There was no semblance of order or respect for rank when the crowd rushed for the sacks of ant pods. They clamored and shoved until they'd filled their pots, then rushed back to their stoves to fry the hard pods until their casings were crisp and gave easily to their hunger.

They ate, and they drank, and without coaxing, Dixon drifted to the dance floor. He was so hot. So very, very hot. He unbuttoned his shirt a few buttons, and then all of them. The breeze that cooled his sweating chest was a step away from erotic, and drew a noise out of him that he wasn't conscious he'd made. A villager took his hand and Dixon turned and met their eyes. It was neither Ipael nor Tekel, but a villager Dixon often helped while he carried out his chores and spoke to in broken bits of his native language. His skin was baked dark by long hours tending crops and Dixon's eyes raked over him without modesty. But then another tribesperson took his other hand and Dixon's attention shifted to her immediately. It was Ipael, evidently undeterred by his previous rejection. He pulled his hand away from the tribesman, who drifted off into the dancing crowd to find another partner, and took Ipael's hands and pulled her close to his body.

Ipael's breasts, covered only at their peaks, pressed into Dixon's bare chest, and the meeting of skin coaxed his half-hard cock into a complete erection. She responded to him with aggressiveness that matched Tekel's, pressing her front into him and pinning Dixon's cock between his stomach and hers. The larvae started to squirm within him. It was so much. Too much. Dancing bodies brushed Dixon's, but the only person who existed in his world was Ipael. They danced together in the bouncing, twirling, hopping fashion known within the village, working the larvae lower and lower in their bodies until Dixon's hit that pit that took his breath away, and Ipael fell against him and pressed the side of her face into his chest. Her hand dropped to Dixon's cock and he managed to swallow his moan when she touched him over his clothing.

"Go with me?" Her breath was raspy. She panted against his chest. "Please."

Dixon's mind lingered for a second on the fact that she was a married woman, but then she rubbed her palm along the length of his cock and that train of thought vanished.

"Yes," he whispered to her, and she looked up and shivered against him. His thigh was between her legs now, and she was so wet it soaked through his pants. He ached to feel that wetness against his cock, and the larvae squirming lower in him and becoming more active made that desire impossible to ignore. This was it. Dixon was officially lost to the festival.

He brought her out of the crowd and the two wound through the village to his hut. At its entrance, he looked into Ipael's eyes--the color desaturated black in the darkness, reflecting the broad bands of stars in the sky--and saw nothing but lust there. He pulled her inside and they went down to his straw bed, Ipael beneath him, legs wrapped around his waist, wetness pressed against his covered cock. He untied the scant clothing that covered her breasts and lowered his face to them, kissing them and running his lips across her hard nipples.

Ipael muttered something in her native language that Dixon couldn't translate, but he interpreted it as assent from the way she pressed into him. He ran his hands up her sides and hers dropped to his crotch. She struggled with the button for a few seconds, but managed to undo it and pull down his zipper. She encountered the second barrier of Dixon's underwear, and after a pause during which she glanced down his body--Northerners wore too much clothing, he figured--she fished his cock out of his underwear. Dixon groaned when she repositioned her legs on him, arched her back, and dragged her wet pussy over his cock. Never in his life had Dixon ached for a woman the way he did now. That fire was stoked by the way the larvae squirmed lower in his body--feverish, desperate. Their mass increased within him by the minute, pulling on his insides, and beneath him, Ipael suffered the same. He rested his palm low on her belly and the larvae squirmed with renewed vigor against his hand, drawing a whimper from Ipael and a sympathetic squirming from Dixon's own larvae. They writhed lower in his body and he panted as their fluids coated his insides and made them tingle.

Dixon wanted Ipael. Needed her. He couldn't stand being outside her for another second. He untied her skirt with one hand and threw it aside.

Ipael rubbed her wet pussy along the length of his cock again, then loosened her legs around Dixon and took his cock by the base. She must have wanted him just as much.

Dixon leaned in close to her and caught her open mouth in a kiss while she guided his cock along her pussy. She arched her back when the head of Dixon's cock settled at the right angle, and Dixon thrust into her.

Ipael broke the kiss with an outcry and wrapped her legs so tightly Dixon could hardly move. She tilted her head back and panted, chest heaving, and Dixon became acutely aware that he was wearing too much clothing. He propped himself up on a forearm and wriggled one arm free from his shirt, then repeated the process on the opposite arm and tossed the clothing aside. He wound his arms around Ipael and hugged her tight so that her bare breasts were pressed against his chest and their stomachs were flush. Their larvae met through that contact and their squirming was renewed by the squirming of hers. The sensation was bizarre--their skin pressed together, pinned by larvae. It made his cock throb.

She trembled against him as Dixon ground into her. But it just wasn't enough. Soaking in her sopping pussy made him ache for more--made him ache to pound her like an animal. He rested his forehead against the side of her neck and kissed her skin; Ipael turned into him and murmured in his hair.

"I need to fuck you," Dixon panted. He didn't know how else to phrase it and didn't have a good enough grasp of the local language to attempt to translate it.

"Fuck?" Ipael ground up into him and Dixon groaned behind his clenched teeth.

"Pound you. I need to..." Dixon propped himself up on his palms and eased backward, as far out of the grip of Ipael's legs as he could.

"Why--" Ipael's words died in her throat when Dixon gave a full, hard thrust into her. She jolted and moaned in a whimper. "Oh," she whispered. "'Fuck' me, then."

Ipael loosened her grip on Dixon's lower body and they locked eyes. Dixon withdrew until only the head of his cock was inside her, then slammed back in so hard that her resultant yelp made him worry he'd hurt her--but then she wrapped her arms around him and, in a tangled combination of her language and English, asked him to do it again.

Dixon did it again. Ipael dug her fingertips into his back, panting, and when he pulled back again, she met his forward thrust. No woman he'd been with had ever been so eager--so desperate. Ipael's physical pleas were overwhelming, and Dixon didn't know if he was responding to her desire or his own. He pounded her--fucked her into the straw bedding until she couldn't speak and could only beg for more by grinding against him and gasping.

The larvae writhed. Their fluids coated Dixon's prostate, and as they squirmed against it, a jolt of pleasure shot through his cock. He was close. He was so, so fucking close. He caught Ipael's mouth in another kiss.

She pulled away from the kiss and Dixon's thrusting faltered.

"What's wro--"

Ipael scooted backward. Dixon made a pained sound as his cock slipped out of her. He grasped for answers. She was probably more conscientious than he was. Was she concerned about pregnancy? Dixon could finish himself off.

He wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, but before he could push himself to climax, Ipael guided his cock back toward her. She rubbed his cockhead against her asshole and senseless lust crashed into Dixon again.

He wrapped his arms around her again and pressed against her. The larvae's fluids seeped out of her, viscous and warm. Dixon wanted them squirming against and around his cock, pressing into him and sliding deeper, to his bladder, and--

Ipael ground against him again, and with a slow press, Dixon slid into her. Her body took him easily--hot and wet and trembling--and he was balls deep in an instant. Ipael arched her back, clenched around him, and Dixon lost himself.

Everything was foggy and heavy, like he was wandering through a half-lucid dream. There were only Ipael's gasps and moans, her body hot against his, her nails digging into his back, and then--then that unreal sensation of larvae squirming at Dixon's cockhead. Ipael's chest heaved as he continued to pound her, reveling in her scent and every minute sensation.

One of the larvae slid its head inside Dixon's cock and he seized, thrusting ceasing for several seconds--during which Ipael made an impatient sound--before he had the control to continue.

The larva's body squished and compressed as it slid inside his cockhead, at first stretching him to almost uncomfortable widths, then slinking forward and becoming thin again. The larvae within his own body were encouraged by its brethren in Ipael's; that clear, tingling fluid seeped from Dixon's ass, but he fought it. Those larvae were going to stay inside him as long as he could keep them, squirming against his prostate and bloating up his belly.

The single larva that had wormed its way into him dove deeper. Dixon clenched his teeth and continued thrusting into a moaning Ipael, whose reciprocal motions had degraded into grinding against him off rhythm. The bug squirmed into him deeper, hitting that spot that sent a jolt through Dixon and made his thrusts falter again before he could continue to give Ipael what she wanted.

Ipael brought her knee up to his chest and eased him away. When his cock was out, she pulled him back to her, sliding him into her pussy again. The sensation was so different--so familiar and comfortable. Dixon fucked her again, her moaning and bucking into him, until she eased him away again and led him back into her ass.

She guided him to switch back and forth. Dixon lost the ability to tell her ass from her pussy, concerned as he was with pounding her until she was a groaning mess. His larvae squirmed against his asshole, ready to break free, and Ipael's swarmed his cock and forced inside when he was in her ass. She guided him to her ass again just as Dixon's body could no longer withstand the internal onslaught from the larvae.

They burst out of him and Dixon seized in orgasm inside Ipael, but nothing came out. The larvae within her plugged his cockhead, forcing their way into him despite his orgasm. It was how it had been with Tekel. The larvae made a desperate attempt to escape his partner, forcing themselves not only into Dixon's cock, but around it and out of Ipael, squirming on his balls and then dropping to the straw to pool with the ones exiting his body.

A lump of larvae shoved inside Dixon's cock to the midway point, and a tidal wave of larvae behind them forced them through. It was a massive stretch of everything in his cock, up until the ball of squirming young burst through into his bladder. More flooded in, pressing past his body's every resistance. Their fluids tingled in his cock, prostate, and bladder, dragging another bucking, dry orgasm out of him. His bladder bloated from them. Ipael put her hand low on his belly and he looked up and met her eyes. The swelling of his bladder pushed her hand outward--a sharp visible representation of just how many were cramming themselves inside him. Ipael's own trembling belly slowly deflated as the larvae exited her body for both Dixon's cock and the outside environment.

He didn't know how long it was before he could move again, but when he could, he was sluggish. His arms had locked, suspending him above Ipael, who combed her fingers through his sweat-damp hair and continued to gently grind against his cock. He shifted to one side, unlocking his joints, and then shifted to the other side. Something in Ipael's eyes said she wasn't quite done with him yet, but Dixon didn't know how much more he could give her.

She slid his cock--still impossibly hard--out of her ass and into her pussy again. Dixon kissed her and both her hands dropped to the bulge of his bladder and rubbed.

It jolted life into the previously dormant larvae. The squirmed furiously in his bladder, against its opening, until they burst out of him. Dixon fell against Ipael, arms wrapped around her, as he withstood the assault of the larvae working their way down his urethra and stretching him all over again.

Ipael must have been able to feel them in his cock. Her breath hitched and she pressed tighter against him when, finally, the larvae burst out of his cock and into her.

Dixon expected that intense squirming of the larvae writhing around his cock as they slid out of both him and Ipael. But they didn't burst into Ipael and then worm their way out. They burst into her in a flood, and Ipael's toes curled as her body spasmed. Like they had in Dixon, they packed into her. His cock pulsed and he reached down and put his thumb against her clit, rubbing it in a slick combination of larval fluid and Ipael's own arousal. It had felt so good when those larvae packed into his bladder. He couldn't imagine the swell of pleasure that must be washing over Ipael as they packed inside her womb, tickling every part of her deeper inside than any man could.

She spasmed around him in orgasm and Dixon groaned from between his teeth. He hadn't thought he could come again, but the squirming and Ipael's own orgasm brought him to the edge.

He couldn't tell if Ipael was coming on rapid repeat or if she was in one long, pulsing orgasm that worked his cock until he couldn't take it and came again, forcing a gush of larvae inside Ipael.

"Vi'lassi. Look," she panted.

Dixon, shaking, brought himself up onto his elbows. He looked down her body and to her hands, which were positioned over her belly. It bulged under her hands, swelling continuously as the larvae exited Dixon's overcrowded bladder for the luxurious insides of Ipael's womb. As her belly grew, it moved her hands. Her fingertips, which were once touching, crept slowly away from each other.

She came again, hard, and Dixon came with her.

For what must have been hours, they pressed against each other, both hardly moving, yet orgasming back-to-back. When they finally pulled apart, stuck by larval fluid and sweat, blue early-dawn light had crept into the hut. His body felt like gelatin, but he couldn't rest. The squirming larvae on the ground beneath him and Ipael needed a good home.

They began to collect the larvae in tandem without needing to speak to each other. They pooled them inside their clothing for lack of a better container, then crept out of the village and into the forest, where they scoured for logs and leaflitter yet to be habited by the brood of the other villagers. Once they found a suitable place, they deposited their offspring. Dixon unloaded his clothing into the humid leaf litter, and beside him, Ipael unloaded the remainder of the gathered brood and then squatted.

Dixon came up behind her, kneeling as support while she bore down to encourage the larvae to leave. She trembled against him, panting while the first larva wriggled free from her and dropped onto the ground. She bore down again, harder, grunting with the effort, and larvae gushed from her pussy, coating her in that tingling, viscous fluid. Orgasms wracked Ipael as her womb emptied, and Dixon encouraged her pleasure by reaching around and rubbing her clit and belly while she expelled the brood.

Over the course of a few minutes, Ipael's belly slowly flattened beneath Dixon's palm. Once the last larva slipped out of her soaked pussy, she leaned back against Dixon, breathing hard. Dixon held her up until she'd caught her breath, then the pair stood. He turned to head for the river, but Ipael took his hand and led him into a part of the forest he'd yet to explore. She led him to a place where water filtered down a rocky outcropping and pooled at its base before draining away in a small stream. They waded into the water, waist deep for Dixon, and Ipael started to bathe him, pouring water down his chest and washing away the sticky layer of larval fluids that coated them both; Dixon returned the favor.

He combed his fingers through her wet hair and Ipael leaned backward and hummed. She was gorgeous. Not just her body, but her everything was beautiful. Her features were strong and her mannerisms confident, inherited from a family line of religious leaders and storytellers. She pressed close to him, breasts against his chest.

"Feel where they were," she said.

"Where they were?" Dixon asked in a mutter.

Ipael took him by the wrist and brought his hand down between her thighs. He pressed his middle fingers into her--she was still pliant and slick.

"More in."

Dixon tilted his hand and pressed his fingers deeper, until his knuckles smushed her vulva. On the tip of his longest finger, he felt the firm surface of her cervix.

"Feel it."

Her could barely touch her cervix. Dixon traced its outskirts with his finger, then moved it to the center. Ipael bit her lower lip and bore down, tightening around his fingers and bringing her cervix farther down. He could reach it more easily now, and slipped his finger deeper into her.

Deeper into her? Ipael trembled against him.

"More. Do you feel it?"

Dixon nodded and met her eyes. Sexual desire didn't seem to be driving the contact. Instead, Ipael seemed giddy to show Dixon how much the larvae had stretched her insides. He fit both of his fingertips into her cervix, though the fit was tight.

"Will you be okay?" This was probably bad for her body, right?

Ipael laughed, took his cock in hand, and easily slid her middle finger into his urethra. Dixon jolted at the abruptness, but understood her point. The same way his urethra would gradually return to normal, her cervix would, too.

He kissed her on the mouth--lingering and sweet. After they'd parted, she smiled and splashed water onto his face, and he laughed and dumped water over her head. Dawn had already passed. They needed to finish washing up--and washing their clothes--and return to the village.

---

Washing his clothing was easier said than done. The larval fluid had an oily quality that Dixon hadn't previously registered and stained most of his white shirt with a grey splotch. Ipael's own clothing lacked absorbency and the fluid washed off without a trace. Dixon resigned himself to wearing stained, wet clothing to protect what little modesty he had left, and he and a nude Ipael--who chose to wait until the coat of moisture on her skirt had evaporated--made their way back toward the village.

Night one of the festival he had spent alone. Night two, with Tekel. Night three, with Ipael. There was one night left and Dixon already knew how he wanted to celebrate it.