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The Jestrym - Embracing Defilement

For Jestrom, by Rix Prime

At the age of nineteen years old, Naila had, along with two of her closest friends, been witness to an obscene and horrifying sight while back country camping. Drawn by what they had thought was the whimpering of an injured animal, the caracal and her friends had come across a largely furless timber wolf in a state that had burned itself into their memories for what likely would be forever.

A half dozen strange insects had been wrapped around the wolf, coating the furless flesh in a glistening sheen of sticky yellow fluid. Each one had to have been two to three feet in length, about two centimetres wide and covered in red and brown chitin, with a bulbous middle section about the size of a baseball. As Naila and her friends had watched in horror, one of the bugs had tugged its lower end out from under the wolf's tail, dripping that same fluid. Dozens of legs had uncurled from that lower end and it had subsequently wrapped the rest of its body around the wolf. A low whimpering moan had spilled from the furless wolf's lips, and the girls had seen that the creature's now toothless mouth had been limned with the same yellow fluid. And the wolf's belly, that had been distended, the taut flesh lumpy and almost touching the ground.

It had been at that moment that Keri, a border collie, had been violently sick and run in disgusted horror. Naila's other friend, a kobold named Ves, had soon retreated in kind, and so they hadn't seen when another of the insects had curled legs around its lower half and shoved it right into the wolf's puffy spade, drawing out a pained and somehow ecstatic moan from the wolf. Naila, however, had, and had subsequently been transfixed by the sight of another of the bugs shoving its back end down the wolf's throat.

When Ves had returned, tugging Naila's arm, it had snapped the caracal out of her moment of twisted fascination, and the girls had retreated. None of them had wanted to talk about what they had seen, and only Neila had hesitated when the suggestion had been made to cut their camping trip short. Keri had asked 'what if there were more of those things?'.

'What if?', indeed.

The girls had never talked about what they'd seen, and Naila suspected that Keri and Ves had either suppressed their memory of what they had seen, or had deliberately embraced some form of cognitive dissonance to protect their sanity. Naila herself tried to do the same, but over the next few months, she'd woken up to soaked bedsheets, her vivid nightmares of being embraced by the monstrous insects bringing her to levels of arousal that she'd known she shouldn't be feeling.

The three friends had drifted apart as they eventually went to different colleges and universities. It was as if being together reminded them of what they had witnessed. For Naila, she had been scared that her two friends would see that she'd been excited at the memories.

Over the three years since, Naila had researched tall tales and myths of the region where she'd seen the insects. Terrified that someone would catch on to her unnatural fixation, she'd hid her tracks as much as she could. It had taken her a year to find even the barest reference to the creatures. They were a parasitic species called the jestrym, and had never been seen in the area before. They reproduced by infecting or perhaps colonizing a female mammal in heat, and from that point forward, the victim would bear hundreds of larval young, most of which would not survive. The stories mentioned that the female OR male would be bred for the rest of their lives. How they did it was less clear, however, but it had been enough to goad the slender caracal to further heated dreams. Further obsession.

She'd become an adept back country ranger, even guiding other, less inexperienced campers on their trips. Her parents, immigrants from a rich family on the other side of the globe, had been scandalized and horrified that their beautiful daughter would take on such a common career. The job had been perfect for her to be able to seek out the object of her fascination, though. She just wanted to see them again, to verify that they were real and not just a remnant of a myth. Or at least, that's what she told herself.

Six years after that first encounter, she found the jestrym again, almost fifty kilometers away from the nearest ranger station, in a small half-cave by the side of a stream. Naila hadn't even known the nest was there until there were a dozen skittering around her feet... ignoring her entirely. It was as if they had no interest in her whatsoever. She wasn't behaving in a hostile manner, and well, she wasn't in heat, so she really had nothing to worry about, did she?

Over the next couple months, she'd come back a half dozen times to observe them, hoping to get a glimpse of whatever poor animal they had colonized, but Naila had been disappointed each time. As with her initial investigations, she'd tried to hide her fascination, and with every time she returned her desire to see that strange process grew.

It was on the seventh visit to the nest that Naila's life changed forever. As with other times, she sat quietly, only a few metres away from the nest. She'd seen them drag a carcass and other plant material along, dragging it into the dimness, but their prey were all much smaller than her. She brought up the memory of that fateful day six years before, and imagined what it might be like, had they taken her instead of the timber wolf. Months without a lover, combined with those terrible memories, had her slipping her fingers under the waistband of her shorts and started to masturbate, fingers massaging the tender nub of her clit and then dipping farther back to press gently into her passage. How did they do it? How did they breed?

Little sounds of pleasure spilled from Naila's lips as she watched the mass of jestrym go about their day. She tried to imagine feeling those things clutching onto her, shoving themselves into her, more flexible and dexterous than any male's cock she'd taken. Males that had always left her unsatisfied and unfulfilled.

She was moments from climax when she felt antennae brush across her ankle. She _screamed_in surprise and scrambled back, splashing into the shallow stream. For the very first time, one of the jestrym had taken notice of her. Unlike the others, it had developed a strange yellow sheen of wetness around its body, and it watched her intently.

Naila shuddered as she stared at the jestrym. The insect's eyes studied her, almost seeming confused that she would have tried to escape. A couple more had noticed her and had started skittering toward her, antennae twitching, also quickly covered in that yellow sheen of slime. She felt a knot of fear and revulsion swelling in her belly when she realized that her arousal smelled enough like proper heat scent that the jestrym saw her as a potential new breeder. If they were given the chance, they would infest her, turn her into a wanton and helpless creature like the timber wolf she'd seen six years before.

The caracal's sex clenched and she let out a moan. For a single instant, her mind's eye saw what she would look like. Eyes clouded with desperate arousal, fur gone, teeth gone, all three holes filled with the jestrym. Fat, wriggling, maggot-like larva wriggling up and out her throat, out of her ass, out of her womb. A half dozen or more wrapped around her, holding her tight, somehow keeping her fed and healthy despite being nothing more than their brood mother.

Before she thought better of it, before she could even consider what she was doing, she unbuttoned her shorts and tugged them down and off, and soon her shirt followed. The simple act of disrobing made her own scent waft to her, and immediately even more of the jestrym were quickly intent upon her. She moved back toward the nest and out of the stream, then leaned back against a rock and whispered softly, "You want me? You got me."

As if they understood, though Naila knew they couldn't, three of the jestrym started to approach, their dozens of tiny legs making a small sussurus of sound. What are you doing, Naila? Are you crazy? If you let them touch you, you're DONE. The truth was though, that from the moment she'd found this second nest, she'd somehow known she'd do it if the opportunity were presented. If they could be coaxed to claim her.

She splayed her legs out, baring her pussy to the open air. Nobody would find her, she knew that, not for a long time, if ever. There were hundreds of kilometers of forest wilderness to explore, and anyone looking would first try where she was expected to be. Where the ranger was supposed to be, really. Not here, baring her sex to a nest of bugs that would claim her and irrevocably change her life.

She looked at the deep red fur on her legs and belly and shivered at the thought of losing all of that. How fast would it happen? How long before her teeth fell out? How did they keep their breeders in a state of heat? How could she _want_this?

The jestrym weren't fast, but they were certainly quick enough to react to the caracal's rising scent of need, and soon the initial three were joined by at least half a dozen more. If she ever regretted her decision here, and she expected she would, there would be no way to step back. Infested. Colonized. Helpless and used for nothing more than incubating their young.

As the space between Naila and the lead insect diminished, she almost lost her nerve. She could scramble out of here and run away. They would claim some other helpless animal in heat, one that wouldn't understand what was happening. It would be better for her if she never came back here. But then, the dreams wouldn't ever stop, and she knew that she'd never be able to bring herself to return.

When the leading insect was barely half a meter away, she noticed that it was coated in a strange sheen of yellow mucous that trailed behind it. She shuddered involuntarily, thinking of the centipede-like thing wrapping around her, covering her in that wetness. No, she wasn't going to run. Instead, she reached her fingers back down to her sex and spread her lips in a wordless gesture of invitation.

Naila let out a little whimper when the first came within a hands-breadth of her splayed legs, antennae twitching. Within a few seconds, the next two were similarly close, with a half dozen more approaching. The caracal knew that she was mere moments away from being claimed by the nest. If she made a fight of it, she could... she could... And then, as one, the jestrym surged forward as one, moving with a speed she hadn't imagined them capable of.

The first scrambled right up toward Naila, and she felt dozens of the thing's tiny legs scrabbling through her fur, the heavy bulb of that midsection drawing across her exposed sex. It dipped down to her side, underneath her right arm, and she felt those legs on her lower back before it came back around to the other side. The other two that had come with it wrapped around her legs and skitter-slithered around them twice, then across her belly. The first three were soon joined by the other six. She whimpered as two wrapped around her arms, and another two across her torso. She couldn't even track where the next two went, all she could feel was a mass of pinching legs all over her body. Hundreds of tiny legs were clambering all over her before even a half a minute had passed.

"Oh god, oh my god," Naila groaned, feeling them tightening their grip. She felt legs on her neck as one of them wrapped around it multiple times, partially forcing her to tilt her head. That yellow fluid was soaking into her fur, and when one of them drew itself across her stiffened nipples, she felt the nub of flesh start to tingle. Warmth spread from that point, and the caracal understood that this was how they worked. A single surge, meant to douse their intended victim in that substance, to overwhelm them so they could do their work. Any animal would fight and thrash and try to escape, but so many all at once would be impossible. Even as warmth spread from where exposed skin had come in contact, she felt more points of warmth where the mucous had soaked through her fur to the skin beneath.

"I w-won't fight," the caracal whispered. When they bred her, that substance would be absorbed even faster. It would change her, overwhelm her senses. But they already had her, she had been theirs before they'd even touched her. She rolled onto her hands and knees, careful not to try and hurt them. They let her move, though they kept exploring her body freely. She felt antennae at her ears, and for a single horrified moment Naila thought they would try to go in there, but the touch was gone as soon as she'd felt it.

As if her new position told them it was time, she felt the one around her neck almost nuzzling at her throat as it unfurled it's lower half. She watched as its legs curled in against its segmented body and then retracted slightly, leaving a two centimetre wide bumpy length of flesh prodding at her mouth. She could see that the end had a little slit on it that ran its entire width. At the same time, she felt two more uncurling from her legs, skittering backward so that they could ready themselves for breeding.

Shuddering, Naila felt a gentle prodding at the lip of her sex, and another at her tail-ring. The touch of that mucous-slick flesh against the furless flesh there made her moan out desperately, urgently, "Please..." The warmth in her body was growing, and it was like a fever was spreading through her. Her need, previously only brought forth by her twisted fantasies, was growing unnaturally strong, making it hard to think clearly.

The grip on Naila's neck suddenly tightened, and in the second it took her to gasp in surprise, the jestrym at her lip shoved its length into her mouth. The mucous, almost sickeningly sweet, made the thing's progress quick and effortless, and some part of her wondered, as hard chitinous flesh passed her teeth, why it would result in losing her teeth. The tube-like, muscular back end of the jestrym shoved into her throat, and she gurgled as her breath was cut off completely.

Somehow, Naila didn't panic, especially when she felt the other two press into her rear and her cunny, pushing smoothly into her. She moaned, and felt her inner walls ripple and clench, the ecstatic pleasure of an intense climax washing through her. As the heat-inducing mucous liberally coated her insides, her need to be bred grew exponentially. This was right, she knew, right for her, a perfect fate that she had embraced. Even as the jestrym in her throat came to a stop, she felt wiggling in her belly. It had breached all the way into her stomach. Now she would find out how it all happened. She didn't even squeal when she felt a pain in her loins as it painfully shoved into her womb, spreading her cervix wide.

She watched, eyes half lidded, as the middle bulb of the jestrym buried in her throat shrunk just a tiny bit, and something started to swell down its lower half. Eggs! It was going to lay eggs in her. That realization made her shiver, even as the egg started to stretch her throat painfully, with another behind it, and a third behind that one. She felt the tight ring of her anus stretched as an egg passed into her there as well, and another into her vagina. The sensation wasn't pleasant, exactly, and brought to her a dull ache.

With surprising abruptness, the jestrym in her throat tugged itself out after laying only a few eggs in her stomach. The process had taken less than a minute, not even enough time for her to be scared she was going to pass out for lack of air. The two other jestrym in her took a bit longer, laying at least a half dozen marble-sized eggs in her womb and bowel, but soon they, too, had pulled out. She was left feeling empty, desperate for more,needing more.

The host of jestrym curled and clambered over her body, repositioning, smearing her fur, at least two more joining the nine covering her. An observer would see very little of the caracal at this point, just a writhing mass of segmented crimson and brown bodies wrapped around their newest victim. Legs uncurled and others retracted, gripping Naila tightly all the while.

"Oh god yes," she babbled when two jestrym invaded her tailhole at the same time, stretching the tight ring of flesh painfully, while another bred her in the much more conventional place a second time. When the back half of another of the insects brought itself to her lips, she opened her mouth almost eagerly. She could sense there were dozens of the jestrym surrounding her, waiting their turn. With a groan, she came again as an egg swelled inside her pussy, massaging the bundle of nerves inside. Slowly, she reached an arm back, leaning on her other forearn, and started to play with her clit. Almost immediately, she came a third time, and a fourth even as the fluttering and twitching of her pussy faded from the third.

As the fifth climax rolled through the nearly insensate caracal, Naila felt a second jestrym join the first one in her pussy. The pain of her cervix being stretched even more made her holler and gurgle around the thing in her throat, and as it tugged out, she followed it with a ragged, gurgling scream. She kept mashing and massaging her clit, desperate for another climax, sobbing all the while. It was too much for her, it was just too much!

Two tugged out of Naila's ass after delivering their payload, and her cries became gurgling moans as another invaded her throat. They thankfully seemed to know that two in her throat would kill her, but that was the only respite she had. The writhing host of jestrym all seemed to want a piece of her, and even as she sobbed, she felt herself rocking against every invasion, desperate for more. Desperate to be bred, to be filled.

The caracal was only dimly aware when the aching swell of her belly was too distended to play with herself anymore, but by that point, she was locked in one endless wave of pleasure, orgasm piling on orgasm. Mindless cries spilled from her lips whenever her throat wasn't being used, and some dim part of her mind, some remaining consciousness said to her 'you knew you'd regret it'.

At some point, she coughed up a mass of the eggs, and stared dumbly at them. They weren't weren't eggs at _all, they were squirming, wriggling little larvae._One of the jestrym seemed to inspect the bundle of larvae, and from that point forward, no more were laid in her stomach. There was no chance, though, that the nest was done with her. Minutes became an hour. One hour became two, the procession of writhing, multitudinous insects filling her with tiny clutch after tiny clutch of their larvae. As the light of day faded, the waves of pleasure were starting to fade, replaced by a growing, unending ache. "Someone help me..." she croaked out.

Nobody came.

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Naila woke the next morning without having any clear memory of when she'd lost consciousness. The desperate need she'd felt during the breeding was still pushing at her senses, and she knew her yellow-stained pussy was slick with her arousal, but it wasn't as compelling as before. Six or seven jestrym were wrapped around her still, though her gaping pussy and abused rump were mercifully not being rutted. The jestrym weren't moving, but she could feel them pulsing and flexing, holding her tight. The ache in her belly was maddening, and she felt a constant pressure inside as the larvae wriggled and moved. "Help..." she croaked, but it came out as little more than a ragged, pathetic whisper.

She looked down and let out a horrified moan. Her fur lay in clumps on the ground, and her now hairless belly was huge, the taut flesh misshapen rather than round like a proper pregnancy would have presented. She tried to push herself to her hands and knees, but found herself unable to. A choked sob came from her lips. She'd really done it, she'd... she'd been colonized. She tried to tug one of the jestrym off her, but that prompted them to grip tighter around her, to constrict painfully wherever they were. The message was clear to her; they would not let her peel them off of her.

She saw then, a few feet from where she lay, the sight that made her blood run cold. Scattered about were the yellow-stained remnants of her teeth. She knew then that it wasn't that they fell out, exactly, but that they partially dissolved, like her fur.

To her surprise, Naila realized that though the jestrym would not let her remove them from her, they were letting her move. Her aching and gravid belly was the only thing keeping her from getting up and running. She noticed then that she was ravenously thirsty, and the caracal all but dragged herself toward the nearby stream, to the pool of water at its side.

IN the dim morning light, the sight that met her eyes when she looked into the water made her raw pussy twitch. Her reflection was almost alien to her, her red fur long gone, replaced by bare skin. The jestrym around her neck looked like a crimson collar. Her skin was coated in a sheen of yellow slime, some places thicker than others. Somehow she found she... liked what she saw. The sheer obscenity of what she'd allowed to happen, what she'd done to herself, was a fantasy fulfilled, changing her life permanently.

Naila tried to reach for her pussy, to try and play with herself, but with a frustrated growl, she couldn't easily reach it. It was then, as she tried to pleasure herself, that some strange scent reached her nostrils. She opened her mouth and drew in a deeper breath of it, and she felt the mass of larvae within her churn. She had to find the source of that scent. It was familiar, but she couldn't place it. She knew, though, that it made her whole body flush with unreasoning, desperate need. Her brood demanded she find the source, and a surge of energy filled her. She found herself finally able to rise to her hands and knees, and went off in search of the maddening scent.

As she moved, more familiar scents filled her nostrils, and each one of them made her more desperate to find their source. Fifty meters down the stream, she found the source of that first tantalizing scent, and she went utterly and completely still. Snuffling around the banks of the stream was a young black bear. She let out a squeak of pure terror before she could stop herself.

The bear's nose twitched and his ears twitched before he fixated on Naila. That scent spiked all of a sudden, and the caracal moaned. The mass of larvae within her squirmed and churned even more, and something told her she should stay completely still as the bear started trundling toward her. His gait was purposeful, but somehow casual at the same time, very much not the behaviour of a predator seeking his meal.

Terror, curiosity and need warred within Naila's mind. She felt like she was on the cusp of some amazing revelation, some secret that needed to be deciphered. When the bear stopped moving mere metres away from her and fell back on his haunches, the caracal saw the long, pale pink shaft that poked from his sheath, she understood. The sight made her inner walls ripple and pulse, and a small rivulet of pure desire trailed down her thigh, pooling where one of the jestrym had wrapped around it just above her knee.

Her conscious mind screaming at her to flee, to stop what she was doing, that this is what the jestrym wanted her to do, Naila crawled on hands and knees through the mud and water toward the bear. Just before she reached the bear, she had a moment of complete clarity. If she fought against it, she could break free. If Naila stopped herself from this last, damning act, she could reach help, reach salvation. She'd have to explain herself, make excuses for what had happened, but she'd escape. The larvae within her body would be starved of the nutrients they needed, they would wither and die. Her brood would be lost, and the jestrym would lose their hold on her.

For an eternity, Naila teetered on the brink of a precipice. She was a living, thinking being that could fight the unnatural compulsion laid upon her. This was enough, she'd done enough, she'd fulfilled a vile fantasy that no sane individual would willingly embrace, a defilement that was even more wrong because she'd consciously let it happen. What's more, she'd _invited_it.

"But it's not enough," she said, and closed the distance between her and the bear. She gave into the urges that pushed at her, and wrapped her lips around the bear's shaft. Her conscious mind screamed at her, told her she was actively fellating a wild animal, but that knowledge only served to bolster her desire to see her defilement to its ultimate end.

As her lips glided down the bear's shaft, she felt a pure, unrestrained joy fill her. This was all that she needed, all she could ever be. She had to feed the babies in her stomach, in her bowels, in her womb. In return, what the bear gave her would feed her as well, and the cycle of need and fulfillment would consume her being.

There was a sudden rustling in the underbrush only metres away, but she ignored it. She was feeding her brood, serving her nest. She was embracing the obscene fascination that had gripped her for half a decade and more. The taste made her stomach turn, but as she started to bob her head on the bear's shaft, she started to purr, a deep thrumming sound of complete satisfaction.

The bear huffed, and she felt hot breath wash over her back. As she smelled the faintly rotten scent of its breath, freshly sated from a recent kill, the jestrym on her started to move a little, slithering and skittering over bare flesh.

When the coyote that had emerged from the forest suddenly reared up behind her, its hind-paws splashing in the water, she reached back and guided the tip of the canine shaft to her anus. She would feed her babies as much as she could, give them the seed they craved. The coyote's claws gripped around her waist, scraping her flesh and drawing tiny little furrows in her naked flesh.

A second later, Naila howled in pain as the thick canine shaft speared into her. Her brood writhed inside her, somehow aware they were soon to be fed, like baby chicks crying for their mother to give them their daily meal. She could feel the cool water flowing around her distended belly as the coyote started to buck his hips. All the while, she bobbed her head on the bear's shaft, her tongue wrapping around the sensitive flesh. She understood why she had to lose her teeth; they were useless to her and would only hurt the males who fed her babies. What male would enjoy sharp teeth dragging on sensitive flesh like that?

The bear's breathing grew ragged, and he started to rock his hips. That little remnant of conscious, sentient thought recalled how bears in captivity would fellate each other for release. She was just expressing a wild version of that. No wild animal would hurt her, the jestrym, her mates would protect her. She was as sure of that as she was of the sun rising each day.

With no more warning than a sudden stiffening of the bear's body, a torrent of watery semen filled Naila's muzzle, and she swallowed greedily. As the mouthfuls of feral semen, somehow made more plentiful by the jestrym's presence, settled in her stomach, Naila came, her whole being suffused with ecstatic pleasure.

The coyote fucking her ass didn't miss a beat as her anus fluttered and gripped, and with a savage growl, he shoved his knot into her. Pain flared within her, but Naila welcomed it. Eventually she'd be so loose that it wouldn't hurt at all. She would simply have to endure the pain in the meantime.

The bear didn't move at all, and Naila was only too happy to keep bobbing her head up and down on his cock with reckless abandon. When the bear's second load spurted into her mouth seconds later, she swallowed even more greedily. Inside her, the coyote's knot swelled, locking in place inside her as he hopped off of her and tugged lightly in the instinctive mating tie.

A sudden inspiration struck the caracal, and when the bear's third load, only slightly less voluminous as the first, filled her muzzle, she held as much as she could in her mouth as she could, only swallowing what she couldn't keep there. It was important to not waste any more than necessary. She drew her half-numb lips off the bear and without a sound, he got up and shuffled off, looking somewhat dazed.

She spilled the mouthful of the bear's seed into her hands and contorted herself almost painfully, mashing the cupped palmfuls of seed into her sex. She should feed her babies equally, as best as she could. It was only right. She wasn't a dumb animal, she was a loving, caring mother to a beautiful brood. She could do so much more than any four-legged beast.

Naila gasped as, with a lewd, squelching slurp, the coyote tugged free, having left copious quantities of seed in her. If not for the brood, the volume would have drooled from her lewdly stretched tailhole, but within her, they writhed and fed on the bounty they'd been given.

When a wild boar next emerged from the forest, Naila, still purring contentedly, presented her puffy netherlips to him as eagerly as she had for any lover she'd taken. She knew that she was a beacon for every male of every species that could scent her. 'Here's a female of your kind in heat,' her body and scent told them. By the end of the day, she'd taken more lovers than she had in her entire life. By the end of the second day, she'd taken three times that number. By the third, there was next to no conscious thought in her mind other than the need to fuck, the need to breed, the need to feed her monstrous brood.

Naila belonged to the jestrym, and they belonged to her. She would feed her babies as often as she could. That was her only purpose,her only reason for being.

She was home.

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The mother knew no sense of time, no sense of the days that passed. She had only one purpose, and that was to nurture her brood. When she could no longer move, her belly even more obscenely bulbous and shiny from the growth of her brood, she simply lay there and let her lovers come to her.

When two strange two-legged animals found her, she felt a flash of fear, that they would take her away from her nest, from her brood. Some part of her knew that they were dangerous to her babies, that they would take them away, steal her mates from her. But her scent lured them to remove their strange, detachable skins. Lured them to leave their own donations of nourishment and seed for her, and wander off, carrying their strange discarded skins with them, their cocks hanging free. They would not remember her, not enough to know.

It was months later (the last days of summer?) that she felt compelled to return to the nest. Though she had ranged far in her search for her brood's care, she knew without a doubt where her nest lay. She had to be there, soon. It took a great effort of will to bring herself to move again, clutching her belly and letting out pained moans, but

"Oh, my loves," she said as she finally reached the little half-cave of her nest and saw the dozens of jestrym grow active as she approached. For the first time since she had become mother, her lovers unraveled from her body to join the others. They were beautiful, she thought, truly unlike anything she had ever laid eyes upon. A faint memory of her uncertainty, of her years before this, came to her, but she quickly forced those thoughts down. "It's time, isn't it?" the mother asked, surprised she could still form the words.

Pain, sudden and intense, blossomed in her abdomen, and the mother cried out. There was no pleasure this time, at least none of the physical variety. Her elation only grew, though, as she felt her whole body wracked with sudden muscle spasms. It was, most definitely, time.

A dim memory came to the mother, of that time before, of when she'd eaten something foul and gotten sick for days. Along with it were cramps ten times worse than any monthly she'd dealt with. Her brood started to churn and writhe as one. The mother fell onto her side and started to retch while her abdominal muscles contracted. Her eyes filled with tears and she howled, a sound that was choked off by something that was coming up her throat. At nearly the same moment, she felt something wriggling out of her tailring and something else coming out of her now gaping and dripping cunny.

With bemused fascination, the mother watched the first of her brood emerge. It was fat and looked like nothing more than a dull red and brown worm, one of the larvae she'd seen during her first breeding, grown fatter and longer as it fed on the seed of dozens of males. She could barely catch her breath before the next cut off her air, birthed from her lips and throat, trailing yellow slime behind it.

The birthing lasted days, the mother's body wracked by the spasms of pain, before the last of her brood was born. Her lovers, the jestrym, herded her brood deeper into the nest. She had long since screamed herself hoarse, and she just lay there twitching and whimpering. It was done. She knew that not all of her brood would survive, it was the way of life, but enough would, and someday they may well lay their own eggs within her.

"Naila?" came a sudden, horrified whisper from across the stream. "Oh god Naila, what happened to you. You... you let them get you. Oh god, I thought I was the only one... who... tried to find them."

Naila? Oh yes, that was her name. It had been. But the mother was just... the mother now. Her eyes fixated on the source of the voice, and her eyes came upon a fit young border collie. The horror, the fascination in the female's eyes was familiar to the mother. She remembered that exact fixation. And she knew well the scent of arousal that wafted from the girl.

"Keri..." the mother whispered, her purr returning, her voice little more than a ragged whisper. She knew her nest would grow, then, that there would be another mother alongside her soon. Her skin was in folds and flaps, stretched still from the brood she'd carried. "It's wonderful, Keri. Join us." Already the mother felt her heat rising, both from the idea of being bred again, of feeling new eggs laid in her, and the idea that she might help another become like her.

The border collie's hand was in her shorts, playing across her unseen netherlips, her mouth hanging open. "But... it hurts, doesn't it?"

The mother felt one of the jestrym start to wrap around her legs, and she got on her hands and knees, still watching the border collie intently. "Oh yes. Yes it's wonderful, Keri. It hurts and it's beautiful. They'll love you as much as they love me." She trailed off, another memory coming to the fore, and she smiled even as another of her lovers skittered across her bare skin. "Do you think Ves will come, too?"

The border collie shuddered and was soon disrobing, leaving her clothes alongside the tattered rags that the mother had left on the day she'd found her new life. Splashing across the stream, she got on her hands and knees in front of the mother. Unlike the mother that had been Naila, Keri knew the pain that would eventually come. She touched her nose to the mother's and whispered, "probably."

"It'll be alright, Keri. I promise. Let it happen," the mother whispered. Their hands locked together, and the mother let out a sigh of contentment as she watched her lovers, her nest, wrap around the new mother. The nest would grow. The jestrym would thrive.