Blackfeather Woods [m]ama's gonna make all of your nightmares come true

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Gross things ahead. Proceed with caution.

Eventually, Maegi knew she would have to face the pain. All other women did, and now, as it shot through her, wave after cramping wave of agony. . .she was fully aware that it was her time. She circled the center of Spiderlings' Glen for a time, then flopped back down, then was up and circling again— On and on she went, for what could have been simply minutes or, gods, it could have been days.

But they were almost here. Her boys. Mou's children. The excitement of them trumped anything and everything else; even as she cried out, even as her muscles trembled and her body ached, the joy was there, a haze above it all.

She felt a contraction more excruciating than all before it and lurched halfway to her paws, caught in an awkward semi-squat, slightly laying upon the ground, her hind legs splayed behind her. With a grunt of effort, teeth gritted, Maegi got into better position to birth children (or something of the sort, she assumed, based on the way her discomfort eased when she did it) and fucking pushed.

She pushed, shrieked, and felt suddenly lighter, turning to look behind her with an expectant gasp that died into a soundless void of horror between her lips.

Not a pup, alive or dead. Nor yet a bat, a spider, a bird like Blue, who sat among the branches above her head, staring with much concern. Nothing of this world—well, somewhat. Nothing that she'd ever want to call hers.

Her 'baby boy' was a runny pile of feces, and amid the waste were a mass of long, pale worms, ghostly cousins of things you'd find after a rainstorm.

Maegi gagged, stumbling backward, only to double over in further pain. 'Contraction' after 'contraction' came, somehow even more intense than before. She shook like a leaf, trying not to stare at what had left her body moments before, hoping against all hope that this was the true labor, and that had just been an anomaly—

Excrement splattered out behind her, weak of constitution and tinged slightly with blood. And worms, more worms. Somewhere, within the chorus of voices she heard in her ears, she caught the barest sound of Peryite, pride in voice—

Your twin boys, born of pestilence! Aren't they beautiful, Maegi, my daughter, my princess?

She began to sob, tears streaming down her face, vomiting up the thin, formless contents of an empty, aching stomach. . .

The companion to an empty, aching womb.