Chapter Text
A lure, the Adventurer’s Guild called it. “For the most experienced of adventurers only,” the old man behind the counter told me, gray bangs hanging over the edge of a fraying black eyepatch, his grizzled face dour, devoid of mirth like decades exploring the town mines had taken more than just its toll.
But I was an experienced adventurer. I owned the greatest tools, had explored to the very bottom of the mines, conquered the mutant bog, and delved deep into the desert caves. Young I may be, but I was no fool. I knew what I was getting myself into, I told him. Told myself. He nodded wordlessly, accepted the wad of money I offered, and handed over the innocuous bottle of brown liquid. It had a repurposed spray nozzle from a perfume canister and a handwritten label that read, “Warning: Monster Lure, Highly Dangerous!” and several other warnings I would commit to reading later.
I waited until the next day to give it its trial run in the mines; I couldn’t wait. My cat had responded curiously, raising its hackles and spitting when afforded with a cursory sniff of the bottle before bolting outside despite the weather. The void hens, on the other hand, couldn’t get enough when I collected their eggs that morning. A tiny smear had gotten on my hand from the poorly secured lid, and the hens followed me with interest about the coop; so enamored were they I had to shoo them back in with a gentle boot to keep them from coming outside in the rain.
My horse nickered in agitation but settled with time and gentle words, and when I was confident I had enough provisions to sustain me we road to the mines.
I restate that I am no fool. I took the ancient, creaking elevator down to the tenth floor, and as the machine rattled its way down into the monster laden dark I read the directions for the sixth time that morning. It was meant to be applied to the user’s body but warned not to be over-used. Not sure how much was over-using it, I applied it sparingly to my chest, arms, and legs and frowned when it left amber stains in the fabric; hopefully they would come out with bleach. The scent was not unpleasant. Almost spicy. Like cinnamon and hot peppers, but I thought I detected a hint of apricot. It was quite pleasant. If not for the ludicrous expensiveness of the bottle, I might use it as an actual perfume.
My heart thudded anxiously as the counter ticked closer to the tenth floor, lights flashing ominously as the ancient car descended into the earth.
The monsters here were no hassle for me. At first, they were daunting. But now I was a seasoned veteran of combat. My sword could fell the meager flies, grubs, green slimes, and duggies with a single swing, and my enchanted ring healed me of any injury each time I slew one of the creatures. I was not worried.
Maybe I should have been.
The affects were not immediately noticeable. The usual rabble of flies and sparse grubs were easily batted off, and soon my sword was slick with bug guts and slime juices. But eventually their numbers did increase, and I theorized it was because the smell of the lure needed time to suffuse through the cave. I soon found the hidden ladder and descended a few more levels deeper into the mine, determined to put my investment to the test.
It was no until I reached the labyrinth that the first inkling of trouble hit me, but by then my cockiness had dug me in too deep. I was deep in the labyrinth, the emergency ladder far behind me and the entrance to the lower level too far ahead when the swarm appeared. I was not worried at first; I’d faced fly swarms before and was not afraid. I swung my sword and winced when a splatter of guts splashed across my face, forcing me to shut my eyes or else be blinded. It was then a pair of flying creatures hit my legs about the spots where the lure was sprayed; I stumbled on the slimy carcass of a slain grub and went down.
I expected an attack, and when they all swarmed me at once—a dozen flies in a cacophony of buzzing—I thought that was exactly what I would receive. They did attack me, I thought. Countless needle-like legs latched onto my arms, legs, and chest, but when I expected bites they instead nosed about, burying their faces into the places I had sprayed the lure. My bewilderment was short-lived, for as I tried to shove off the nosy swarm I found my right hand and sword bound by the gooey form of a green slime, its thick, sticky body ensnaring my hand to the wrist. The same happened with my other arm, and soon both my legs until I was hopelessly trapped.
True fear came over me then, and I knew this was how I would be killed. I really could have listened to the old man.
I heard tearing and knew with dismay the insects were ripping at my clothes, tearing at the fabric drenched in lure scent. They gnawed until they reached skin, and I yelped when their mandibles struck my flesh; the healing effects of my ring could only be activated if a creature was slain, and I was in no position to do anything but struggle.
My pants and top were torn to ribbons, and I noticed with horror how to flies mouthed and nibbled at the spicy scent on my skin. It was a small relief that their bites were not immensely painful, nor did they even seem to break the skin, but fear came back three-fold when a particularly aggressive fly tore its way through the front of my jeans, and the icy cold, damp air of the mine invaded the seldom-exposed flesh of my pussy.
The flies were less violent by then, but their pushing, crawling, and buzzing were all doubled as they nosed into my exposed skin; I dreaded the idea of being found in this state should I lose consciousness, but I didn’t understand why the insects were no longer being truly violent.
Until their attention all at once seemed to zero in between my legs.
Realization struck me like a fallen tree, and I attempted to crush my thighs together, but the slimes that bound my ankles made it all but impossible. Rather, they shifted further away from one another as if working in tandem to force my legs apart, and I cried out when the first fly descended to its mark.
Covered in the gore of the hive mates I had slain, the fly lighted atop my pubic mound and curled its body as if cradling my sex, and I felt with dismay (and a morbid kind of fascinated, fear-induced arousal) as a long, thin shape emerged from the end of its thorax.
Let me say that I am no prude. A few of the local townspeople and I have shared drinks and gone back to one another’s homes to enjoy each other’s company like consenting adults, and I’d be lying if I said I had no bizarre fetishes I wished to keep hidden with every ounce of my being. So when that long, thin proboscis emerged from that fly’s abdomen and probed searchingly about my sex in a manner that made its intentions clear beyond any hint of doubt, I felt my insides quiver. Not purely in fear, although there was some, but with anticipation. My pussy throbbed.
Good god, the spray didn’t merely attract the monsters with an alluring scent, it was a pheromone beacon! The insects came not to investigate a threat or dine on some delicious smell, but to mate with its source! I was not just the bait, I was also the reward!
I was anxious, afraid of what could happen. If differences in anatomy could hurt me badly in some way. If what I felt was not a sex organ but some form of twisted, nightmarish stinger I had no idea.
But I had my answer when the fly arched its abdomen and curled its body suddenly downward, plunging its proboscis suddenly into me. Impaled on its thin, long length I winced but withheld a scream; it might attract with sound what creatures did not catch the smell. Its entrance into me was not smooth; I wasn’t exactly wet, but the fly’s organ was small and blessedly not a stinger. It was certainly a sexual organ of some kind, and god now it was inside me!
I was being fucked by a fly, and if the earnest nuzzling, buzzling, and nibbling of the dozen more flies crawling across my body were anything to go by the others had the same idea.
It wasn’t gentle; it was an animal, after all, and I was grateful it wasn’t bigger. It pumped its abdomen up and down, the smooth, cool carapace of its belly rutting against my pubic mound as it fucked me. I wriggled in protest, trying to jostle the creature off, but failed at every turn. God, this was so wrong, but the creature was seemingly enthralled. It buzzed and fluttered in a frenzy as it pistoned its organ inside me, and I bit my lip as blood rushed to my face in a mad, humiliated blush. Humiliated not at what was happening, but that I was enjoying it.
The fly’s proboscis was narrow, smooth, but strangely fleshy. Like the bug meat I would use for fishing bait. It was thin, but it was long, and after its first few thrusts I could feel the tip of it striking the very end of my passage. I winced and hiccupped, a reflexive buck serving to startle the insects crawling on me. The slimes holding my legs moved even further apart, and the ones holding my arms seemed to somehow tighten my grip. I didn’t understand how one race of monsters could be helping another; did this mean they were sentient? Or was there a symbiotic relationship here I wasn’t aware of yet?
But my scientific wondering was gone in a flash, for with another reflexive buck of my hips my chance lover tightened its hold until tiny, claw-like graspers dug firmly into my skin creating painful red welts. It let out a cacophonous, buzzing cry, curled its abdomen sharply down again, and buried its organ into me to the root. I cried out at a discomfort inside me, a soft pop followed by a quick singing sensation, and I knew instinctively the narrow head of the insect’s cock had penetrated the small opening of my cervix. My eyes flew wide and my head fell back, mouth agape in a mute cry of shock as I felt the utterly alien sensation of a hot, viscous substance pouring into me in what felt like gallons.
The fly’s cock pulsated as it came inside me, thick bulges undulating down its length and into me, into my womb.
It was trying to impregnate me!
Can I actually get pregnant from this?
Oh god, what if it’s not just cum? What if it’s eggs, too? Will they grow in me? Hatch in me and eat their way out of me? I’m going to die, eaten alive from the inside by parasitic grubs, and holy shit I’ve never been so fucking turned on and grossed out at the same time, how can it still be cumming so much?
I must have blacked out at some point because when I came to it was to the distinct feeling of something leaking out of me, and I saw the fly buzzing sluggishly away, the lower part of its abdomen drenched in a thick white substance. For just an instant, I thought the act was done. I was free. Delivered. Safe to retreat to some corner somewhere to clean myself off and push out whatever the fuck that thing had pumped me full of.
But then another fly swiftly took up the newly emptied place between my legs, and I counted that the swarm had doubled since I was first taken down. God, there must be more than twenty by then, and there looked to be even more coming this way. I moaned heavily, struggled meekly, and cringed when the slimes held fast. The second fly wasted no time. It plunged into me, and my head fell back in resignation and a dull, sweaty moan as I thought: hey, this isn’t so bad. There are worse ways to die than fucked to utter oblivion by a horny swarm of monster insects, full to busting with buckets of cum and who the fuck knows what else.
So I accepted my fate, lay back, and let out my first truly pleasurable moan as my new lover’s cock pistoned feverishly within me, stirring up the sea of fluid left behind by my previous user. Blackouts occurred in greater frequency after that, but they just kept mating with me. One after the other. One would fuck me until I could barely breathe, dump a veritable mountain of cum and small, soft shapes through the narrow gate of my womb, and flutter off in time for the next to take its place. I lost count somewhere after fourteen, and by then I was exhausted. The swarm just kept growing. They crawled all over me, nibbling the tender flesh were the spicy scent lured them in.
The weight in my stomach was palpable by then, and it grew with each use. Dozens of tiny mouths nibbled at my skin. My thighs twitched apart, knees curled just enough that I could occasionally rock weakly into some insect’s earnest rutting. I was moaning freely by then, my are neck and chest being explored by countless little mouths. I cried so sweetly when they found my nipples and nibbled on them almost curiously. I came so hard the fly fucking me in that moment was thrown off, but it mounted me again with a fury that seemed almost annoyed to have been dislodged in the first place. So, when it came, it impaled my womb like it owned me, and I sang as it dumped a geyser of its seed into me.
If there was such thing as a breeding haze, I was lost to it. Racing through my head were thoughts of how fertile I might be, and whether or not all these broods would take. If in a few days or weeks I might be birthing a whole new swarm. That the grubs would just hatch inside my womb and crawl out of my pussy when they were ready I was almost positive. God, I wanted that so badly. To fuck and be bred and birth whole swarms of these fucking monsters sound like the perfect way to go.
I felt dopey. Heavy. Horny. Hungry. I wanted them to never stop. Wanted them to keep fucking me. Keep using me. I passed out several times while getting fucked, came to still being fucked, knew I was being pumped up with cum and fly cock even while I was dropping unconscious over and over. They were using me, breeding me, and I fucking loved it.
At some point it must have become clear I could hold no more, because I was slowly becoming aware of a thick, sticky wetness growing under my ass and legs with each consecutive mating. They would mount me, fuck me, cum their blessed little hearts out until they had nothing left to give, but now it was all spilling out in excess. I tried to look down, but found I could not see beyond the great mound of my belly.
God, I really was pregnant. I had to be. How long had I been down here? Hours? Days? Weeks? The faint flash of worry petered away as the next fly’s cock sank easily into me with an obscenely wet sound, and I let my head fall back to the cave floor with a breathy, needy moan.
Awareness trickled back to me. I felt sore, sticky, and really fucking thirsty. I tried to move but gasped, and my eyes flew open as my jaw dropped. A small flex of muscle in my abdomen was all it took and a torrent of cool, sticky fluid poured out of me.
Remembering, I looked around, but the cave was barren. I was alone, naked, and left to lie in a filthy concoction of dirt and cum that mixed into the foulest mud imaginable, worse than the witch’s swamp by an incredible margin. I had no idea how long I’d been here; I needed to get back to my farm before I was found like this. How long had I even been gone?
And I needed all of this out.
I must have laid there delicately flexing the muscles of my tummy for a solid twenty minutes, just trying to push enough of this monstrous brew out of my pussy to be able to sit up. With each flex a torrent came spilling out, and by time I was able to finally sit up I felt the first of many small shapes slip free. I pulled my legs up with some difficulty and pushed harder, letting out a startled gasp of pain and pleasure as a succession of identical shapes slipped free of my womb.
They came out with the next rush of cum, and all doubt was swept away as a cluster of small, greenish-white orbs tumbled out of my pussy with the thick white soup. Eggs. God, I truly had been knocked up by flies. Been bred by flies. They really meant to make a broodmother out of me, the fuckers!
Whether the eggs were viable or not, I didn’t care. I wanted them out of me. So the next hour was spent contorting my body, rolling my hips, and flexing my lower stomach and cunt walls until cluster upon cluster of eggs tumbled out of me. I didn’t care how obscene of a view I must be. Didn’t care how filthy I was, or even that I might still be in danger. Let something attack me now and I’d kill it with my bare teeth.
By time I was confident I had expelled my body of its brood, I had to sit back and admire the sheer scope of what the swarm had put inside me. That my body was capable of holding such a mass was astounding. Each egg was no bigger than a marble, yet if neatly piled together I imagined they could have reached knee-height! There had to be hundreds!
My clothes, sadly, were not salvageable. Among the remains of my gear I found my bag and boots blessedly intact and my sword not far away. I ate all my food, grabbed enough of the large subterranean leaves to haphazard some makeshift clothing, and limped my way to the end of the labyrinth and to the elevator to the surface. It was on the way to the surface while rifling through my bag for water that I found the bottle of Monster Lure, untouched by the swarm.
Part of me wanted to throw it out then and there, but another part of me that was still weak in the knees and dopey from the gallons upon gallons of monster cum fucked into me. Maybe, just maybe that part whispered, I could still find use for it. I still didn’t know what other monsters might be affected by the lure, after all.
Chewing absently at my bottom lip, I made up my mind and slipped the bottle back into my bag. I’d spent good money on it, and the farming lifestyle taught me never to be wasteful.
It was while I waited to reach the surface that I shifted from hip to hip, rubbed my filthy thighs together, and hoped with a distant feeling of dread that I had gotten all the eggs out. That I wasn’t accidentally bringing something home with me.