Mother, Father, Moth
A poor drunken sod finds a new purpose in life under the delicate wings of a rare moth.
Mother, Father, Moth
Ch. 1 - Moth Bride
John was the biggest, baddest boy in town; or so he told his friends when drunk. Once the toughest football player on the local highschool team, able to run faster, farther, and tackle harder than anyone out there. After school he had worked odd jobs around town and eventually settled in to the local factory, working a metal shear for the last five years. He was still in his mid twenties and a part of him still hoped for something more, something greater. College wasn't for him, he knew, though he had gotten a sports scholarship, he had been kicked out after putting some fuckwad in the hospital as a freshmen.
Tonight he was on his way home, drunk as a skunk in a barrel of rotting apples. As he walked his way through the steamy summer night, he tried to sing something he only half remembered, but mostly just annoyed the few wandering raccoons. It was late, that was for sure and he had another mile of dirt road ahead of him so he did his best to distract from the creepy swamp on either side. It was the only place he could afford, three miles outside of town, a run down shack on the other side of Myrtle's bog.
He stopped dead as something hurtled past the road ahead. It shined with a strange greenish luminescence and left a cloudy trail in its wake. After a moment he just assumed, "Well good ol boy, you sure are pissed tonight." and continued on his way. Then he reached the spot where it had passed and there was still that glowing dusty cloud, drifting on the still air. He passed through it and coughed as he took a deep breath; then a second. For a moment he just stood there in it, trying to clear his wind pipes, but his coughing grew weaker and his knees began to tremble.
The big glowing... thing darted past him again, and this time as it fluttered right over his head he got a better look at it. "A fucking moth!" he shouted, then sneezed as more of the dust sprinkled in to his face. He had never seen one so large, at least two feet from head to tail and its entire body glowed with a queer green light, like that of glow in the dark paint. Suddenly his legs just gave way and he fell backwards with knees bending forth. He hit the dirt with a grunt and tried to rise again, but in his drunken state, nothing seem to work right. He lifted an arm and flailed it about, but his fingers wouldn't close. He kicked a leg, and it only limply splayed to the side.
The moth came again, larger than life and ugly as sin. It's jaw was a vicious array of pincers that looked like they might easily take out a jugular, but instead it just settled over him and began to step about, carefully. He couldn't lift his head at this point to see what was going on, but he felt prickly feet pushing and pulling as it walked lower. The sound of fabric tearing was quickly followed by a waft of humid night air across his groin and stomach. The insect had bitten right through his pants and belt and torn them apart. More rips as his jeans were stripped from his hips and his shirt was shredded to his chest. He mumbled something and tried to pull away but his muscles didn't respond, they just quivered in helpless impotence.
There was a stirring in him, a nonsensical lusty need. He was laying under the largest insect he had ever seen in his life, and all he could do was pop a boner. It was large, he had always been proud of himself, a good ten inches he would brag, though in truth it couldn't have been more than eight. Yet it was long enough that he could see it poking up over his gut, the purple head swollen and throbbing. It wasn't just an erection, it was the most powerful erection he had ever had in his life, he felt sure his dick would pop like an overripe fruit. As he watched the moth settled over his chest and curved its abdomen in. In the moonless night, her brilliant glowing body illuminated perfectly everything he had ever not wished to see.
That first touch of the cool slimy flesh as the insect's lower end enveloped his length. It made him cringe inwardly and gag. He could smell it, filthy sour scent with goopy messy dribbles running down in to his crotch. Before his eyes the insect's lower body undulated, a ripple of flesh and the lower end pushed down to kiss his pubic hair. There was a wet slurping sound as the insides of her cloaca shifted and he would have moaned if he could at the feel. It was pleasure, pleasure like he had never felt before, better than Andrea Hesten's mouth on prom night, better than Sarah's cunt in the back seat of her car. Each time the insect's flesh rippled, it swallowed, stroked and suckled at his length from base to tip.
He lasted only a few minutes and when he came, it was with a silent helpless twitch. Never before had he felt so strange, an orgasm without moving his limbs, without bucking, without thrusting. His balls clenched, his stomach twitched, and his spunk spilled in to the insect's opening. The second his orgasm started he felt something change inside the creature, and a second later it's abdomen jerked downward, crushing in to his lap and something hard jammed in to the tip of his dick. He wanted to scream as the pain bloomed, but no sound came forth, just ragged breaths sucked through a lax throat. Something wiggled, slippery and muscular down his urethra. He was still coming, his balls still jerking, his stomach still twitching. It happened so fast that his penetrating became penetrated and he could feel whatever it was worming its way down in to him.
On the final release he was allowed, that appendage wormed its way in to his testicles, following the flow of his semen, and he could feel it, squirming in his balls. It was painful, it was damaging, and he could do nothing but lay there and suffer. Once again the insect's body began to undulate, but this time a fluid was pumping in to him, through his urethra, through his penis, and splashing in to his scrotum. It seared like fire and again he tried to scream, but all he could do was endure helplessly. Another muscular and another ejaculation of agony in to him. He could feel his testicles growing heavy, swelling with fluid and drooping down over his cheeks. Then it stopped and for the longest time the moth was still.
He felt hot, sweat beaded on his skin and his flesh darkened with a flush. His groin hurt, though a while ago the pain in his balls had stopped. His dick ached but he assumed that was from the constant erection and the rather intrusive something. The night shifted and still he lay paralyzed under the insect, at its mercy. Eventually it began to move again, its abdomen lifting and falling, stroking him once more. With disgust John felt himself in pleasure once more, but suddenly on the next pulsating thrust he felt something thick wedge itself in to the head of his penis and worm its way down. He wanted to squirm away and throw up, it was the strangest and sickest feeling he had ever had, that lump forcing its way in to his dick. Then another followed and another. Thrust after thrust, countless in their number his scrotum swelled further.
When the sun cracked the horizon behind the trees, the moth was almost finished. He could barely feel the eggs being deposited anymore and he had reached orgasm so many times he had lost coherency. He was delirious with fever, pleasure, and discomfort, so he barely noticed when the moth lifted off him and began to fly away, leaving him in the middle of the road.
Ch. 2 - First Down
When John woke, he was a mess. Every muscle in his body was on fire, to the point he could barely sit up without sobbing. Worse though, his groin felt like he had been kicked repeatedly in the testicles until there was nothing left. In fact when he reached down, he found his scrotum the size of a grapefruit, swollen sickly and cool to the touch. He also could find no testicle inside, though there was a mass of... something, it squished a little and resisted, but even a little squeeze hurt as bad as a kick.
When he looked down at himself he almost fainted dead away. His cock still stood rigid, swollen and lumpy; not just lumpy, disfigured. The head was wider, his urethra a gaping cavern that he could have slid a finger down, and the shaft behind it was covered in sickening bumps and angry looking welts. It looked like he had been stung by a dozen bees. His pride and joy was ruined, though larger sure, it was twice the girth and his urethra hung below it as a curtain of loose skin.
Eventually he gathered his wits about himself and rose, holding his tattered pants up about his waist and started the slow painful walk home. It was a rather difficult prospect with his never ending erection. A distraction started about half way back, it was a slowly building fire in his gut, a heat of lust that drove all other thoughts from his mind. He was hungry but that didn't matter, he was thirsty but that was just a dim need. He was in pain, but the pain seemed to just excite him further.
His dog Scruff came running and barking out from behind the shed as he turned on to his drive way. She was a friendly mutt, with sandy gray fur and a tongue that was always visible and never stopped drooling. She jumped on him and he caught her fore paws before they clawed up his exposed stomach. His pants fell about his ankles and for a moment he had a brief feeling of embarrassment, which passed the moment Scruff's belly fur brushed against his throbbing cock. In an instant he fell to the dirt and dragged the dog with, she rolled over for belly rubs but he had other ideas. He held her down as he slid himself atop, and with a sudden desperate jerk, he buried himself as far in to his beloved pet as he would go.
She yelped and tried to squirm away, but his hands dug in to her chest fur and held her in place. She was so hot and slippery about him, not at all like the moth a few hours before. He thrust madly, jamming himself to the hilt inside of her as she yowled and whined. He had never been interested in bestiality, had never even thought about it to be honest, but at this moment he wanted nothing more than to empty himself in to her belly. After a few moments her struggles stopped and she began to lift up to him, panting and huffing along with him.
Something inside him popped, like a bubble; it was painless but a strange sensation none the less. Suddenly, without any warning, his hips jerked and he felt himself peak in to orgasm, but no semen came gushing, no blissful release poured in to his hound. Instead a slow building of pressure welled up in his stomach, and he felt something, slithering forward upward. He sobbed and leaned in to the dog, falling atop of her as the pressure grew. He lost control of himself for a moment, and laid there as the... something... slithered up his shaft. Behind it came a rush of fluid, a torrent of semen perhaps, it gushed from him like a fire hose and with it the... thing slithered free.
Clarity came like a breeze blowing smoke from his mind. He stared down at Scruff and pulled away, sickened by what he had just done, "Girl are you okay?" He asked as he sat back on his ankles. For the first time in half a day his penis went flaccid. John watched the dog, writhing in the dirt, a whine in her throat in obvious pain. Then she stilled and just laid there, panting and staring up at him. She was immobile, paralyzed just as he had been, though this time it was his doing. A trickle of blood leaked from her sticky pink spade, but only a touch, nothing he was too concerned about. With the utmost care he lifted her and brought her inside, wondering what he had just done.
Ch. 3 - The Wrong Way
It was two days before John's penis rose again, demanding; it would not be ignored. He was at work at the time, carefully cutting steel sheets in to two inch wide strips. His jeans bulged over his prominent erection, and for a while he tried to ignore it, tried to pretend it wasn't happening again. But By the end of his shift, any female he saw it took an insane level of concentration just to keep from raping them on the spot. Scruff still wouldn't move, he fed her milk from a bottle, but she was growing weaker by the day, he didn't want to do that to anyone else. At one point he thought of going to the hospital, but he was terrified of what they might do, not that he could afford it in either case.
He jumped in his truck and drove away, toward the bar. There he passed on a drink, but asked one of his buddies to go with him, fishing, "Come on man, its been months since we last went and I really need to get away." He kept himself covered, even going so far as to tuck his dick in to his belt so it wouldn't protrude awkwardly.
"Fine, but let me finish this beer." Chuck replied, then belched in the most manly fashion he could.
Together they drove out to the lake and dumped the canoe in the water. It was on the far side of the swamp from John's shack, but it was a nice quiet spot with only the occasional bird to interrupt the peace. He was feeling better now, his erection still present but being well away from work and the smell of a female... and the fear, he was able to relax. As usual there were no bites but they had brought a case of beer and just shot the shit for a while.
It was close to dark when John felt the tension rising in his gut again. It was just his bladder, thankfully, so he stood, fished his monster out and began to piss over the side of the boat. The feel of his length in his hands though brought a second tension to the party and his scrotum twitched upward. His mind started to fuzz, perhaps the beer, perhaps something more, and he glanced over toward Chuck who was doing his best not to notice; as any self respecting gentlemen would do.
John's sudden movement tipped the boat, and Chuck had only a few seconds of struggling before he felt arms encircle him and drag him toward the shore. At first he thought he was being saved, but as he was pressed face first in to the swamp mud he felt John's hand jerk his pants down. He thought for a moment this was a joke, John was just pulling a prank on him but as his anus stretched and tore he knew it for what it was. Two thrusts, two quick desperate thrusts, a single inaudible pop, and he started to cum. The slow building pressure in his loins as something squirmed its way up his urethra sent him to the edge of Ecstasy. He was lost in the moment, hips jerking involuntarily down against his friend's rear. Then it rushed free with such an exquisite release, he could only sob his moan to the dark cedar forest.
Chuck wasn't moving, his mouth was full of mud, but there was a gurgling breath sucking through it. John rose to his feet and stared down at his friend, horrified by what he had done, "I... I'm not a faggot." He cried, but his dick was filthy with shit and quickly growing flaccid. Chuck's rear was covered in blood from his badly torn anus, he had been an anal virgin and John's girthy length was far too much for him, especially without warning or lubrication. With sobbing breaths and tears in his eyes, John carried his friend to the truck and drove home. He didn't know what to do, he couldn't tell anyone bout this, they would just think he was a rapist, he would spend the rest of his life in prison.
Carefully he arranged his friend's limp body on the couch, and tried to reassure him, "It's okay Chuck, you will be fine... it will wear off..." But Scruff wasn't looking any better. In fact her stomach was beginning to protrude like she was pregnant.
Ch. 4 - From the Other Side
Stacy was working late, she had a long shift at the all night diner, and it was just ending. She was nineteen, fresh out of high school and working her way up toward going to the local community college. She had no car but her walk home was a short one, just a half mile past the bog outside of town. She noticed the headlights behind her and stepped to the side, allowing the truck to pass, it didn't; in fact it kept pace with her. She moved quicker and the truck followed suit, she stopped and the truck rolled forward until she was staring at the passenger side door.
"What do you want." She asked warily, but for the longest time there was no response.
Then, a soft, desperate, "Help me." Came from within the cab. She was a kind girl, willing to help others when they needed it, though perhaps a bit naïve. She opened the door and looked in side to see a man, trembling with his hands across his lap, "Please..." He begged her.
"What do you need? I can call you an ambulance." The diner was only a couple blocks back, she could run there and back quite quickly, even on her aching feet.
He slid over then and reached out. His fist found her hair and she screamed as he pulled her, head first in to the truck and started driving, with her legs kicking outside the open door. The vehicle sped up, faster and faster and she crawled in just in time to see the door slam shut as it struck a lamp post. The hand in her hair dragged her head down, in to his lap, and she had a glimpse of a monstrous erection, the shaft lumpy and throbbing, the head gaping with a wide dark urethra. Then it was in her mouth and she was choking as it struck the back of her throat.
"You bite, we both die." He told her through clenched teeth. Then he sobbed and she noticed there were tears in his eyes, glistening from the street lights... then darkness as he took a turn on to a dirt road and headed in to the bog.
She had a choice, but fear won out and she began to suck upon that blistered lumpy flesh. He tasted clean at least, not that she had tasted many dicks in her time, but at least he washed. Her nose buried in to his pubic hair and her chin bumped against his swollen scrotum, but she didn't notice anything amiss. Each suckle brought a shuddering pant from him, as if she was hurting him, but his hand in her hair never let her up. When he came to a stop, it was pitch dark out and she had no idea where they were.
"I will not ask for your forgiveness, but this is for the best, I promise you." He told her, then dragged her from the truck and force marched her toward a run down shack.
"Why are you doing this?" She asked, sobbing.
Silence stretched as he messed with the front door, then she was thrust inside, "I don't want to hurt anyone else, I don't want to fuck dogs, and I don't want to fuck men." His voice came out in sobs, half crazed and desperate.
She backed away from him, but she had no where to go, he was crazy, down right insane. He grabbed at her again and curled his fist in her long hair. She was thrown to a bed and dragged about so he could press his still monstrously erect shaft against her mouth. She wanted to resist, but didn't know what he was capable of, a blow job wouldn't likely kill her and maybe he would be calm enough that she could escape. Her lips parted and she took the gross flesh in to her mouth, it hit the back of her throat and he kept going. Her head hung off the edge of the bed and his hands pinned her by the hips, his thighs crushed against her shoulders, and she couldn't breathe. Her face was smothered in his crotch with his heavy testicles laid over her nose and eyes.
He thrust brutally, fucking her mouth as if it was her sex. She choked and gaped, only getting a breath of air every so often. It hurt, her lips were bruised, the back of her throat was ragged and horse. She wanted it to end so badly... and then it did. He went still, jerked, bucked a little, but the thrusts had ended. She gaped and gasped, but he lodged himself as far down her throat as he could go. She felt his urethra swelling under her lips, bulging around something as it squirmed down. She could feel it moving, like an earthworm. Then it reached his head, and came out with a sudden gush of pressurized fluid. She choked and almost drowned as it rushed in to her lungs and down her throat. She swallowed, the only thing she could do if she wanted to survive.
The sensation was sudden and horrific. Every muscle in her body felt like it was on fire, she wanted to scream but he was still buried in her throat, still gushing that watery fluid down her gullet. Then the pain faded and there was numbness, horrific, terrifying numbness. She couldn't move anymore, she couldn't even feel him in her mouth though she did feel the pain of her throat; thankfully she could see and hear, but that was small compensation.
Eventually he pulled free as his cock went flaccid. It hung before her, bent and wrinkled, looking diseased. It was over, but she couldn't move. That watery issuance dribbled slowly back up her throat and in to her sinuses, she wanted to sneeze but she couldn't manage to make it happen. Then he dragged her across the bed, laying her head on the pillow, "Rest now, I will feed you in the morning." He told her, then laid down with her and embraced her like they were married.
Well in to the night and morning she lay awake, feeling the horrific numbness. Some time in the wee hours she had felt a sharp pain in her gut, something that would have made her scream and double over in agony, but she was helpless and immobile. Eventually as that pain dulled to a low throb she drifted in to a fitful nightmare filled sleep.
Ch. 5 - What lies within
It had been twelve days since the moth, twelve days since John's life was turned upside down. Every three days the erection returned and no matter how hard he tried to resist it, he eventually succumbed to it's demands, he had put it off for two days the last time but last night... Last night he had taken an innocent girl and brought her in to his nightmare. She was beautiful though, if a bit on the heavy side, he didn't mind. Scruff wasn't doing well on the other hand, all morning she was making a breathy whine, even as he tried to bottle feed her. Her stomach bulged further than ever, almost sickeningly so, but he gave it a gentle rub, hoping to calm her.
Under his fingers he felt movement, and even as his eyes watched saw, something, like a thick rope under the skin, segmented in shape as it shifted about inside his mutt's gut. He stumbled back in horror and watched it ripple across the taut surface again. He guessed it was at least four feet long and six inches wide. An hour later and the stomach was still, he couldn't feel any movement but for the slow rise and fall of Scruff's breathing. At that John was thankful, but he wondered what he should do, this was too much for him.
Chuck was also beginning to show, his stomach protruding upward over his belt. He had always been a trim guy, careful about his weight, but now he looked like he had downed a twenty four pack. John paced back and forth, crying to himself, mumbling, frantic. By evening he knew what he had to do, he tenderly picked Scruff up and carried her outside. Then just as gently he laid her in the dirt behind the shack and told her, "I'm sorry girl, I'll end this, you won't have to suffer any more."
He went back to the truck and found his sledge hammer, then came back around, just in time to see the dog's stomach bulge sickeningly, then split. Under the skin a blood smeared segmented bulging whiteness was visible. Then it too split with a sticky wet pop, and slowly, from the belly of his beloved pet rose a moth, glistening wet in the evening sun. He stared, slack jawed as it climbed on top of Scruff and began to inflate its wings before his very eyes. Then he rushed with a panicked fury and brought he hammer down on the moth. It sidled aside and he only managed to land it in the grotesque slushy mess of his mutt. She was already dead by then, her stomach split like a melon with a huge hollow cocoon inside, creamy white and smeared in blood. A few more swipes and dodges, then the moth took wing and fled in to the bog, away from the mad man with the hammer.
-
Stacy woke in pain. Her stomach gurgled angrily and she could feel a constant slithering movement as something crawled back and forth through her guts. Occasionally there would be a sharp pinch or a twist of pressure, but generally it was just a constant queasy motion. Her captor didn't seem to notice her discomfort though, every so often he would come to her and bring her something to drink and just pour it down her throat, half drowning her. He was almost kind, all smiles and gentle touches, but there was a sickness behind his eyes.
On the third day of her capture, her stomach protruded lumpy and uncomfortable. He on the other hand just touched it with an almost reverent caress though also a strange wariness in his eyes, "Our time is coming again." He told her, and then began to undo her clothing, stripping her naked before his eyes. She was long past shame, but she felt sick at his touch, though that might have also been the twisting in her gut as what it ever it was squirmed upward.
He climbed over her, his bulbous phallus looking worse than before. It was down right blistered now, with sticky weeping wounds here or there and it was bent around a swollen knot on the right side. His hands parted her thighs and lifted her hips to meet him. She couldn't feel much, but the deep pressure of his hands, and then the sudden intrusion as he penetrated her. She wasn't a virgin, but that member was so grotesquely large and inhuman, it tore her entrance. He sighed out in bliss as he sank to the hilt in her belly, then began to thrust, panting and grinding like an animal.
He couldn't help himself she realized, he was driven to desperate madness by whatever it was. For a moment she felt almost pity, that was until his orgasm rushed up, only seconds after starting to rape her, and the second larva was washed in to her. The flood of liquid pooled in her vagina, along with a single squirming parasite that took only a few seconds before it began to chew through the wall of her vagina and burrow in to the soft flesh of her body. Blood leaked from her mixed with his liquid release... then he pulled away satisfied, his penis going flaccid once again, "Thank you..." He told her softly, then added, "Now I will not hurt another with that one.." His eyes were glistening with tears as he spoke, but his eyes gazed upon her pregnant looking belly with reverence.
Ch. 6 - The loss of Sanity
Chuck died the night before and now Stacy was a battleground, her stomach a bulging mass of flesh where two larva fought for dominance. John was watching with rapt interest, his hand upon her rippling, twisting stomach as lumps and curves formed at its surface, then squirmed away. She could see them now, large as they were, they slid along organs ate through muscles and fat, and grew heavy with her blood. It was almost time again and John's erection was already showing. She knew he would implant her once again and she wondered if she would survive a third.
Her vagina and anus bled constantly, he had to keep a towel between her legs just to keep the bed from getting wet. Her intestines were long since eaten and they were beginning on her womb. Then he climbed over her, his smile wild as he said, "I have another gift for you my love, our babies will be so beautiful when they are born." His thrusts were quick and painful, they made her stomach bounce and wobble, as if it were filled with gelatine. To be honest she just wanted it to end, and hoped they would kill her, she didn't want to spend another day as host to his 'babies'.
When he came, nearly as quick as the first time, he stayed in her for a long long time, laying across her stomach and kissing her limp gaping lips. He seemed to take great pleasure in it and probed her mouth with his tongue. She would have bitten it, or spit if she could, but she could only endure as his saliva drooled in to her mouth and the last of his release dumped in to her womb.
The third larva burrowed in and joined the fray, flailing about trying to eat as much as it could before the others got to it. Organs were fair game, and her body was quickly failing while John looked on. Her breath came in short shallow gasps and her stomach hung limp, wide, and translucent. With nothing more than her slack skin between the air and the larva, they could both see them, squirming around inside of her, a mass of rope like tendrils in a pool of half blood that warred for food and dominance. Even her legs from pelvis to knee had been stripped of muscle, there was nothing left. Then one of them went upward, burrowing under her ribs. Stacy felt her heart stop in that instant as powerful larval jaws tore it to shreds and began to feast. With a silent whisper of thanks to what ever divine being saw fit to let her go, she died before the maggots could be born.
John watched her life fade, but still he hoped it would be long enough, it had only taken them a few hours to go from larva to birth. But no, as her body cooled his children died. With bitter tears the man, half mad, dragged the dead woman from his shack and buried her with a few bitter words, blaming her for being too weak to bare his young.
-
When next the hunger came, John didn't hold back. He hunted in town that night, seeking his next wife. When he found her, she was carrying her shopping from the store to her car. He offered to lend her a hand, then dragged her kicking and trying to scream in to his truck. Instead of taking her back to his home, he raped her on the spot, hanging from the passenger side door of his truck. It was quickly over, he was becoming proficient at breeding, a few thrusts and his peak came with a high like no drug he had ever tried. Even the release was quick, where once it had taken nearly a minute for the larva to emerge from him, it now slid free in seconds, his urethra loose and gaping from scrotum to head.
With his release, her struggles stopped and her body went limp in his arms. Carefully he finished loading her groceries in to the back of his truck, then drove her out of town as she sat there, glassy eyed, staring forward. He didn't know her name but she was his now, for the next few days at least. Once again he laid the woman in his bed, stripped her naked, and fell asleep, cuddling her close and stroking reverently over her flat smooth stomach.
Day after day he watched her, caring for the beautiful growing child in her belly. When the need came again, he found a second and brought her home as well, to share his bed. The news was filled now with missing persons, but no one suspected him. He knew it was only a matter of time, but he couldn't stop.
He began to take other pleasures with his brides, tasting them, stroking them, exploring their bodies. He did things to them that he had never dreamed of doing before, things that would have once made him sick. He did them because he could, because just breeding them wasn't enough. Both of the women watched helplessly, humiliated and tortured.
When the time came again... he found himself without erection. A gentle inspection of his scrotum found it flaccid and empty. He sobbed and paced, wondering what he would do now. He felt no burning need, no overwhelming hunger to rape and breed, but in his heart and mind it was there, a lasting impression that made him desperate.
On the day the first of his two brides was ready, he carried her out in to the bog and laid her gently in to shallow water, with her head resting on a log. She was in pain but he only saw joy in her, "It will be wonderful my love." He whispered with a hand laying over her tight hard stomach. He could feel movement, the slow pulsing of his child's body stirring to life. It shifted and bucked then pushed upwards against her navel. Skin stretched and bulged, he could see the segmented creamy shell, outlined through the thin skin. Then it split with a wet sticky sound and he carefully pulled the cocoon out of her. Her stomach cavity was nearly empty, a few bits of organ, blood stained and sticky. Her eyes were still alive though as he held his child up, "See? Here it comes."
The cocoon split and the moth slithered out from it, squirming in to the daylight. John held it in his hands, seeing beauty in its pearly skin with streaks of pale blue and green. He leaned down and kissed the insect on the abdomen, then laid it atop his dying bride, "Oh isn't it beautiful my love?" He told her.
Ch. 7 - End Zone
A few days later the other woman died in his arms as he carried her out in to the bog. But it was late enough that the cocoon hatched without complication. Then John was alone. No matter what he did, his penis never came to life, it hung limply, weeping from a dozen broken blisters.
For the first week he was happy, his children were born and he felt no compulsions, but day after day he grew desperate. He had to be quiet though, two of the bodies had been found out near the lake where he had dumped them. Though the rangers blamed it on wildlife and called off the police investigation.
One night with his thoughts twisting back and forth he ran in to the bog, naked, calling for his babies. He wanted to meet one, any of them, just to experience their love again. But the only thing he met was a man, standing nude in the dark. He took one look at John and started chasing. At first John thought he had been caught, the police were going to take him... but as a hand closed on his neck and pinned him bodily to a tree, he came face to face with a blistered, twisted penis, standing proud and erect as a gnarled oak branch.
"No!" John cried, but the man's crazed eyes told him his fate. At last he stopped struggling and looked in to those eyes, seeing an echo of himself, "My loves, you want me to be a mother?" he asked, then gagged wetly as the bulbous head was shoved between his lips. He accepted it and began to suck and swallow, pleasuring him with as much hunger as he had felt when he raped his wives.
I am no fag he told himself, but his penis came to life for a while as his mouth was fucked and bruised. He pushed away for one moment, holding the hungering beast of a man off him, and said, "I forgive you, take care of me, please." then sank in again and swallowed as he felt the man seize.
The larva slithered down John's throat with a rush of sticky bitter wetness, and he welcomed it all in to himself as the fire began to burn his nervous system away, leaving him as limp and helpless as a child. He watched, joyful as he was slowly lifted and carried from the forest and laid, tenderly in the back of a van, "I... I had to." Was all the man said, then shut the door and drove off. In darkness he felt his child chew through the wall of his stomach and begin to feast on his flesh. It was so painful, so horrific, but at the same time it brought tears of joy to John's eyes.
End