Camp Queenlay: Epilogue (Insect Queen TFTG Preg) (Patreon)

Hello everyone, you may remember that I released the 30k story Camp Queenlay last month, centred around John the protagonist and his friends becoming transformed into alien egg layers. Well, now spacebanana has been kind enough to commission the epilogue to this particular story. See below, and even further below for a PDF of the entire story, epilogue included.

Camp Queenlay Epilogue: Five Years Later

The familiar pressure rolled through my being, and by instinct I pushed. And pushed. And pushed.

"Mhm - Ohhhh . . . OOOoohh!"

Several eggs squeezed from my gargantuan stomach, through the compressed passage in my womb, and deposited into my immense and bloated egg sac. The pressure squeezed further down, like fingers on a great tube of toothpaste, and I gritted my teeth and pushed again. The sensitive lips of my ovipositor glided open as several dozen eggs pressed firmly against them. I grunted, eliciting a soft feminine moan as they poured out my egg sac. My antennae twitched, signalling the automatic activation of my psionic powers. Despite the five feet of height at which my drooling, leaking ovipositor's tip was located, they fell as if in one-fifth of gravity. They came to rest softly on the pile of hundreds of eggs that lay around my chamber. They were the size of full blown toddlers these days, enormous eggs that stretched my sensitive female lips wide as they were birthed, causing discomfort, pain, and ecstasy all at once. And every egg in the chamber was mine.

“Ahhh . . . ahhh . . . oohhh. Mhm. A small break, until the next clutch.”

It was mainly spoken to myself; the drones in the chamber were not much company. They obeyed their masters, which in this chamber was myself, as it had been the case for the last five full years, to this very day. It was the half-decade anniversary of the day when the Queen Mother of Handorian hive race revealed to me the true nature of my origins; that I was not, as I thought, an ordinary human male born to my mother and father. In truth, I was an alien moulded to possess a human-like form, and settled with two mind controlled parents who loved me even though they knew what I would one day become. My true nature was a Princess Broodmare, an intelligent, thinking member of the hive blessed (or, as I saw it, cursed) with an incredibly prodigious brood cycle, capable of gestating dozens upon dozens of eggs a day, and more in older age. It was only at Camp Queenlay, the nerve centre of my real mother’s operation - the Hive Queen Mother - that I discovered this truth, I and three friends who were likewise Princesses, albeit with different roles. To our horror, our bodies were changing under the strange regimen and diet of the camp, and days later we were no longer human. Eli, the smartest of our group, led us to the Hatches, a series of mountains where he believed we could find the truth. But one by one we were captured and forced to adopt our destined biological roles.

Eli became Baruva, the drone-controller. In fact, the former male had embraced her role as a layer for the hive, and her greatly expanded braincase allowed her to control the many drones in the hive to further the Queen Mother’s plans for world domination.

Mia, former rebel, became Mirona, the feed-nurse. She was humiliated and overwhelmed to discover that even as her body remained perpetually pregnant, she was also developing dozens of milk-laden breasts to feed the hive’s young.

Ethan, the joker and prankster, became Etania, the gestator-imbimber. Her body has numerous adaptable vaginal passages through which eggs are inserted each day. Unlike us, the former male does not produce her own eggs, but is stuck receiving eggs from others, and gestate them yet longer before re-birthing them into specialised roles.

And I, I was John, and the truth was I was the most important Princess of all. I became Kalea, the heir to the hive, and the largest producer of eggs of all the princesses, as I was and still am destined to become queen one day, and rule the hive in truth. But that is not for many hundreds of years yet. Goodness knows, enough has happened in five.

For one, my mother’s plan to dominate the world has reached its fruition. With the aid of traitorous Baruva, our kind has been able to mentally control and coerce key members of the human population. Already, issues such as climate change are being strongly addressed, and global peace achieved. There are still small matters, but from what I understand, soon humanity’s wars upon the planet will be curtailed, and we will begin to reveal ourselves. We can become this planet’s custodians, and the humans our protected client race. Not slaves, no, well-treated under the law, in fact. But not the deciders, not the rulers anymore. But this last step can only occur once our numbers are overwhelming, and so it is that for five whole damn years I have been swollen to bursting with eggs.

I thought originally when I arrived and was forced into my new role that my body had finished changing. In some ways, it had: I maintained my two immense, milk-laden breasts and rotund stomach, and my extra arms and antennae have remained, as has my blue skin. Nothing has been rearranged. Rather, it is a question of what has been enlarged, which is much. As my first months as an egg-laying insectoid broodmother began, I tried to find ways of escaping. None worked, and my ex-friend Eli - now Baruva - was able to anticipate what I would try. Mia and Ethan similarly failed, though their efforts were even more difficult, given how they were constantly being . . . latched on to. Still, I wanted to be human again - only my feeble human legs remain as evidence of what I once was, and those are subsumed into much larger insectoid legs anyway. The Queen was confident I would become accustomed to my new role, but spending each and every day bloated and pressurised with eggs, feeling my own large dick fucking my vagina and fertilising myself, and then pushing them not only from my belly to my egg sac, but then out my egg sac several days later, was not my ideal life. Nor did having my hatching brood briefly succour from my ripe melons, drinking my blue milk before racing off to their jobs, or how I needed to use my useless wings to continually fan myself. I needed to escape, and I knew I could find a way.

How wrong I was. The closest I got was across the lake before I fell into the agony of birthing, laying one of my largest clutches yet at the time. I was so overcome with the pangs and pleasures of forcing the large, rounded eggs from my sac that I barely noticed the drones come to collect me. That was the time I had tried to get Mia and Ethan out as well. Mia made it only a little further than I; she was so full of milk by that point that she was mute, unable to speak except to moan. She could reach even a tenth of her numerous breasts, and they were so bloated that Ethan and I could not suck enough to help her. The drones actually brought several freshly hatched young along just to sate her need to be milked, and she sighed, hating her position but still relieved, when they began to crawl over her and drain her many, many litres. Ethan was the most determined to escape. He lasted more than a day. I can still remember the cadence of his voice when he returned, yelling and screaming.

“A whole fucking day without your fucking eggs inside me! Without being impregnated down my goddamn throat. It was heaven, I tell you! One day without - Oohhhhh - AAaah - Mmhhmph!”

And then the drones were fucking him again, through every orifice, even his mouth-vagina, ensuring that he was good and wet to receive more eggs. The worst part was, hearing him reluctantly enjoy it.

That was the last true escape attempt we ever managed, and the reason is obvious. I have not gained any new growths, but the existing ones have swelled beyond all imagining. By the end of the first year, my egg sac was the size of a family van, and my pregnant belly looked full term with octuplets. By the end of the second year, my egg sac was now equivalent to that same van with a trailer, and my stomach could easily house ten. It sure felt like it. And now? Well, now my insectoid abdomen is the size of a damned truck, and my belly could contain a small car. I sometimes feel like a little pimple sandwiched between two gargantuan egg factories, and in truth that is what I am: an egg factor. I am simply far too large and far too perpetually pregnant to ever escape again, and my Queen Mother and Baruva know it both. My reproductive organs are so incredibly busy that even the thought of moving so far is tiring.

Each day is much the same. I wake, bloated with eggs in my rounded dome of a stomach and my truck-sized ovipositor. I always continue to lay unconsciously through the night, and the aftershocks of pleasure from the act often accompany my waking moments. A stupendous hunger is always present at waking, and the drones are always ready with a gelatinous mix like honey that they feed me. I suck at it greedily. I once fought these feedings, but no more. I need them, my alien body needs them, and my young needs them. And after five years of constant birthing, it’s impossible not to get attached to the many thousands of babies I have birthed into the world. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Once I have finished consuming vast quantities of what is simply called The Syrup, I spend some time groaning and grunting, overwhelmed by how much I have consumed. My blue skin becomes tight like a drum, and I spend most of that time breathing heavily, rubbing my stomach with my four arms and asking the drones to do the same. There is a cream they apply that feels wonderful, particularly when my pregnant womb is stretched to its limit, and they spend that time applying this to my incredible egg sac also.

Then comes the self-fertilisation. Sometimes I begin birthing before this, and sometimes it happens later in the day. It is unpredictable, and I have never sensed a true pattern, other than that it is now always three times a day. My large insect dick grows erect and throbbing, and I pulsate with a need to impregnate myself. Like a vestigial limb outside of my control, it shifts, before plunging into my alien vagina and thrusting into me. I gasp and groan, often calling out words of pleasure. My entire body rocks during this time, and my heavy breasts leak their bluish milk all over my naked form. My egg sac trembles, pulsating also, the eggs shifting as I rock my incredibly wide hips. And then I cum, and I feel the strange yet deliriously blissful sensation of my own seed shooting into my own womb, and fertilising future eggs yet to come.

The rest of the day is birthing. Pushing, pushing, ever pushing when the pressure comes. It is instinctual now, and I am used to it, though not every day comes easy. The Queen Mother has told me this never changes; even she in her ancient lifespan still has days where the birthing is more full on, or the eggs larger than normal, or possessing little breaks in between. It frustrates me, but at least it separates the days somewhat. There is not a lot of interest that comes in constantly laying large eggs, except for when they hatch, and my young are continually placed at my breasts for a brief drink. Apparently this augments their immune system.

As for what I can do during this time, I am allowed to read. I have an immense stack of books - human as well as the Handorian written equivalent - that has been brought to me. Baruva’s doing. I still hate her, but at least she’s given me this. I also have a modern gaming console, though I cannot send messages on it. It helps pass the time to play fun games, though my skill has taken a deep dive due to my need to pause or push through as I grapple with numerous eggs descending out of me. Many a death in-game has come from when an unexpected instinctive need to push came over me, and my hands seized as I trembled, struggling with a particularly large egg stuck against my birthing lips.

And of course, I still have the power to visit my friends, from time to time, when it is allowed. This is more often than it was at first, and I can only imagine it is because we no longer possess any chance of escape. I’m not sure we’d take it if we could: Earth is solidly under Handorian control now, even if the human race doesn’t know it yet. There’s nowhere left to run.

Still, it meant the world to visit my friends, and it was what I was planning to do on this anniversary. They were my first and only friends, after all, and despite our warped and constantly pregnant alien forms, they were my dear friends still.

***

It was rare, to all be in the same chamber, even for security reasons. Baruva and Queen Mother had allowed it: they were increasingly okay with us all meeting together, so long as drones were present to monitor us. I had just finished birthing a large clutch of thirty-four eggs, and my breasts were thankfully quite drained, though they were still heavy J-cup jugs sitting naked on my chest, and resting on my belly. And while I could always feel more eggs developing within me, I was luckier than Mia.

“It’s good to - ahhh - see you g-guys,” she stammered. She was on her side, as she often was forced to be these days. Like me, her ovipositor had swelled, growing longer. Except her birthing rate had only increased a little; much of its mass was instead dozens of large mammaries topped with long nipples, each of them perpetually filling with milk. The lines of boobs ran all the way between her legs and up her belly, with eight fat tits stacked upon her chest, gurgling awkwardly. She had fifty-eight breasts in total, and all of them were producing milk for the hive’s many young. She was the feed-nurse, after all, and not a single member of the hive did not drink from her at one point or another. She grunted as several larva-like hatchlings swarmed a couple of her vacant breasts. She lifted three of them with her additional arms - she had eight now in total, one for each of her torso breasts - and placed them at her chest to feed.

“MMmhmhmm . . . that’s better. Sorry, I really needed to be pumped there. Drink, my darlings. Drink you little buggers.”

Ethan chuckled.

"What a lovely devoted breastfeeding mom you turned out to be, Mia."

She flipped him off with five spare hands to his standard four.

“Don’t even start, Ethan! Of course I'm going to develop a maternal instinct when my entire body is devoted to breastfeeding thousands of babies - yours included, I might add, Ethan. Or should I call you Etania?”

“I’m still Eth - oh fuck! I didn’t expect you to start right now - I'm still  Ethan, I mean! Even if I'm always getting - oohhhh - fucked in all my vaginas."

The interruption came courtesy of a drone, whose long dick was being inserted into a vulva opening on Ethan’s rear. The former prankster couldn't help but squeak in ladylike fashion as two more drones joined in, finding their own openings.

“F-fuck. I was hoping they wouldn’t do this in f-front of you g-guys. Ahh! I was hoping it could just be us - oohhhh - three. No embarrassments.”

"Maybe don't make fun of all my m-milk-filled tits then!"

"Well, they are p-pretty noticeable. Shit, this guy's dick is big. Damn, that means - ahh, ngh! - it'll be a big egg going in me."

"Good. Watching you squirm while my eggs are shoved inside of you to grow even bigger will teach you not to be so damn rude."

I coughed, and three more eggs descended from my womb into my egg sac. My egg sac - easily three times bigger than Mia’s - trembled as they entered, making a loud gurgling noise.

“Look, Mia and Ethan, it’s just going to have to be like this, okay? I don’t think we should get embarrassed about this, anyway. It’s not like we have a choice, right?”

We all exchanged looks. Ethan shrugged, before shaking her shoulders a little at the sensation of being fucked by a drone. We chose to let her save face and ignored it.

“You’re not wrong,” Mia said, folding her available arms, of which only four were left now.

“Yeah, good point Kalea.”

I nodded, thankful that Ethan had used my new name. I hadn’t fully accepted this new life of never-ending pregnancy and egg-laying yet, but I had accepted my true Handorian name. Mia and Ethan hadn’t, and I respected that.

“Thanks.”

Mia sighed, picking up another larva and placing it at another spare breast on her belly. They were in her large chamber, since it made practical sense for her to remain by the young that she needed as much as they needed her. Still, her glowing green eyes seemed to give each of them a look of care as they latched, or when the drone workers helped them latch on her rear or underside of her pregnant belly. Ethan hadn’t been been entirely wrong; she had developed a maternal love for the many hatchlings that suckled at her never-ending produce. She sighed as yet another latched, and it was clear even without psionic powers that despite the discomfort of being constantly filled with milk, the relief that came from having it drained was almost organic.

“Well, what do we even talk about?” she said.

I idly stroked my belly, feeling more eggs being generated within. “Did you hear the latest proclamation from our Queen Mother?”

The two nodded, both looking a little sad.

“So that’s - ahhhh - so that’ - ooohhh - so that’s - ugghghh oh Jesus Christ can’t I get a break from being fucked!”

Mia looked sympathetically at Ethan. “So that’s it, then? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

He nodded wordlessly as his body was gripped by orgasm. The drone tensed, overcome with pleasure also as it shot its load within him, lubricating Ethan’s passage and making her ready to receive another egg.

“That’s the one!” she squeaked, coming down from it. “So, we’ve lost. Earth is doomed.”

“Not doomed,” I corrected. “Just defeated. The Queen doesn’t intend on killing the human race.”

“Just enslaving us,” Mia replied.

“Not us,” I countered. “We’re not human, remember?”

“Is this not enslavement?”

She had a point. I squeezed a few more eggs from my sac and psionically helped them to the ground as I considered it. “Yeah, okay. You’re not wrong. But at least they’ll still be allowed to live their own lives and the like. They just won’t run things anymore. We will.”

“Somehow Kalea, I don’t think we’re going to be in charge.”

Mia seemed to consider something as a larvae detached from a drained breast. It visibly throbbed, filling already with more milk. “You’re going to be in charge, Kalea. You’re going to be the Queen someday.”

“Yeah,” Ethan said. “Holy shit, she’s right! You can undo all of this!”

I shook my head sadly. “I won’t be Queen for hundreds of years. By that point I’ll be as big as her - though she thinks I might be even bigger. I’ll be laying at least five thousand eggs every single day. I’ll be completely immobile.”

Both had their struggles, but even they seemed to shudder at that.

“I can understand what that’s like,” Mia said. “Even with this psionic shit I can barely ever leave this chamber because otherwise I’m just full to bursting with all this fucking milk, and I have all these suckers who need me. I . . . well, I can’t abandon them.”

Another drone moved to approach Ethan. He sighed. “Fuck, I don’t even know if they’re planning to put eggs in me, I bet it’s just these damn pheromones. Look, you’d be able to get at least this member of Ethan’s Rangers out, right Kalea?”

I thought about that as I looked over Ethan’s form. Etania, as her Handorian name was. The princess gestator-imbiber had once been the tallest, fittest, and most stalwart of our group, back when we’d been human and she’d been male. Now, she was smaller than either of us. I was truck-sized just in my rear abdomen, and Mia was perhaps two-thirds my size, though a lot of that was her boobflesh. But Ethan was perhaps a third as big; her role was more specialised, and it was not a role she loved. Just as the last five years had seen my incredible growth in size, and for Mia had caused her to develop extra arms and a ludicrous number of breasts (with more, I suspected from the protruding points on the side of her sac, on the way), Ethan had experienced her own changes. For one, her skin was now an incredibly vibrant shade of pink, and it was a colour Ethan was still embarrassed over. Powerful glands had developed in her body, according to Baruva, that now spread intoxicating pheromones to the male drones, drawing them to her presence and serving as an aphrodisiac. That step was necessary for them to lubricate and ejaculate into her many vulva-like openings over her form, of which there were now many more; her egg sac was the size of a large family van, and was peppered with places with vaginal passages for insemination. Unlike my smooth sac, or Mia’s consistently breast-covered one, Ethan’s was unevenly surfaced, with odd bumps and pebbled bulges along its surface. This was due to the numerous differently-sized eggs that had been inserted into her body, destined to become higher-class drones: protectors, defenders, nurturers, infiltrators, living-computers, constructors, and so on. Mia and I felt a little guilty about Ethan: much of the eggs she was carrying probably came from us. If I ever came to lay my own queen egg - a very likely thing in several hundred years time - then it would be Ethan who would gestate it for several decades in her body, her womb constantly at work remoulding and growing it to maturity.

The work certainly took a toll on my friend. She still remained the inventive, outspoken, and daring individual she had been as a human male, but much of her daily effort was focused on growing the clutches that were unbirthed into her, and pushing them out of whichever hole they happened to exit from. More than once I had seen my friend suddenly pause, stop speaking, and begin to gag and cough, her throat bulging as an egg travelled upwards and out her distended mouth. Despite the strangeness of it, it was clear that even her throat now had erogenous nerves that were stimulated by such action, and her pink eyes would roll back in pleasure as she finally birthed the egg from her mouth and psionically directed it into the hands of a waiting caretaker drone. In many ways, Ethan had always liked being in the centre of attention, and it was a dark joke she made now that she received ‘special attention’ from everybody. Even as overwhelmingly pregnant and constantly laying as I was, I couldn’t quite imagine what her life was like, being constantly fucked and inserted with eggs, and birthing them from numerous sensitive and wet orifices..

“Kalea? You’d rescue me right?”

I brought my large mind back to her question, and smiled. “Of course I would, Ethan. You were my first friend. I’d get you out.”

Her body trembled, a large inserted egg pressing against her belly button. Her vagina-like opening there expanded, and she grunted as yet another egg - one I recognised as belonging to myself - slowly pressed out of her.

“Oohhhh - thanks buddy, that means a l-l-lo-ooooohhht.”

It drifted to the ground.

“God, at least that was a small one. I swear Mia, you lay the biggest fucking eggs that go inside of me. It took them like five freaking minutes to push one up my friggin’ ass the other day. I was drooling by the end of it.”

“I’ll be you - ahh - were,” Mia said, as several litres of milk dribbled from her belly-breasts. She gestured psionically to some drones, who immediately went running for more infants to feed from her. Her large nipples throbbed, needing release, and she clenched her eyes shut. “I make them real b-big just for you Ethan, ha!”

That did give us a laugh. It felt like old times, before we were alien monstrosities trapped in endless cycles of laying, self-fertilising, and . .  . whatever Ethan’s deal could be described as.

“Hey,” Etania - I mean, Ethan - said. “What will you do? You know, when you’re queen?”

“That’s not for several hundred years!” I protested. Even just thinking about it made me have to bear down and push what felt like four or five eggs through my canal and into my egg sac. I grunted as they passed.

“Yeah, but let’s - ohh - let’s just say you were queen today. What would you do?”

I considered it. Mia’s own antennae twitched with interest, and for a moment, she forgot to take the squalling infant being passed to her many arms. It was only when another great spurt of green milk erupted that she hurriedly attached it and several others.

“Well, for one, I’d let us access the internet.”

“Hell yeah!”

“Fucking finally.”

“Hm, I’d also let us travel.”

“Won’t you be too big?” Mia asked.

“I think there should be a way, even if we have to spend a few years making the tunnels bigger. Even Queen Mother can fly psionically, so I should be able to, right?”

Ethan shrugged. Her pink breasts were leaking fluid, and out of kindness, Mia psionically carried a hatchling over to feed from her friend. Ethan grinned sheepishly in thanks. “I guess that could work.”

“Anyway, I’d let us travel the world. We’d be rulers of it, wouldn’t we?”

“You would,” Mia corrected.

“Still, I’d let us travel. See Paris. Fly by the Eiffel Tower. Go to Australia - I’ve always wanted to see it. Get out of this place.”

“Oh, I’d love that,” Mia said, “fuck that would be amazing. We could go to Hawaii, and lounge on the beach like I always wanted.”

“Yeah, you could wear a hot bikini,” Ethan suggested, trying not to laugh.

Mia shot him a glare, and all eight of her arms folded on her hips.

“Fuck you Ethan. Jesus, I was never a bikini girl before, and you know it, but I’d give everything now to be one instead of . . . this.” She gestured to her numerous mounds of mammaries.

“You could always wear whatever half of fifty-eight bikinis is,” he said with a chuckle.

“It’s twenty-nine, you innumerate idiot. And, well, uh . . . I think I’d need thirty two by that time. M-maybe more.”

Her green skin flushed a little purple with embarrassment as she pointed several arms to her large egg sac, where several obvious points were developing into new nipples.

“I’m still, uh, still growing more,” she said with an embarrassed smile.

“I’m sorry Mia.”

“It’s all good. It’s not like I’m not used to being f-filled with - ahhh, that was a good latch - with milk. Now, I’ll just be m-making more. But who cares, if we can one day relax on the beach right?”

“Fuck yeah,” Ethan said. “Nude beach, on account of us. And we could play psionic beach volleyball. Maybe I could even pick which drones got to fuck me; that’d be nice. Some are b-better than others.”

I smiled. It did sound amazing. “We wouldn’t be free, but I don’t think that’s ever happening. But maybe one day we can see more of the world, and shape it how we think would be best.”

“Ooohhhh,” Mia groaned. She rubbed two of her free nipples. “Sorry! I’m fucking myself right now, shit! I didn’t expect it s-so sooooon! The whole travelling thing just got me so excited! MMhhm!”

We both gave her a sympathetic look as her alien dick began to fertilise her body. Her belly visibly expanded as she groped her many breasts with her many hands, expelling large quantities of milk. Somehow, the sight of it was turning me on, and my own dick was hardening. Ethan’s was too, though at least his wouldn’t impregnate him; but it would work to help develop his eggs. What it did mean, however, was that his pheromones were also going wild. I could even smell them. A drone entered from around the passage and moved promptly towards Ethan, holding its erect cock in its hands. Ethan groaned in irritation as it rounded about to her face. Her face drooled reluctantly, ready to receive the male’s payload.

"Oh dammit. Sorry guys, this guy is going to lubricate my damned vagina throat with his cock. I won't be able to talk for a few minutes, and an egg will be coming not too long after. I'll try to listen. You just enjoy a little side chat while I swallow his cum."

"Eww," Mia said.

"C’mon Mia, no embarrassments, right? Besides, my stupid alien tastbuds are addicted to tasting their sperm. It's so damn good it's embarrassing. The Mother told me it helps my body perform its function. All I know is I can't resi-mmhmphh!"

He didn't manage to finish the sentence, as the male thrust his big cock down Ethan's moist, sensitive throat, parting his vulva-like lips. Ethan moaned in ecstasy, before rolling his eyes at us, as if to say 'this is my new normal now, get over it.'

“I have to go anyway, I’m getting a bit too pregnant - ahhh - and need to get my eggs out.”

It was true. My belly was becoming increasingly tight, and my egg sac was practically stuffed with hundreds of eggs that I was overdue to lay. It would be a long, long afternoon of laying, and I needed to be back in my chamber, alongside the Queen Mother. It was the price I paid, for visiting my friends from time to time. It was the price we all paid; even Mia had fallen behind in her feeding schedule, and I had the sneaking suspicion that the growth of new tits was partially a bodily response to our occasional catch ups.

“It was so great to see you both.”

“You too John. Kalea,” Mia replied. She looked a bit overwhelmed, and I could sense with my antennae that she wanted to simply lie back and let hundreds of young suckle away at her like piglets to a sow, and simply be. “You t-take care. One day we’ll have Hawaii.

“One day,” I replied, beginning to psionically lift my enormous, truck-sized heft.

‘One day,’ Ethan said in our minds. A drone worker was beginning to insert a large egg into her body between her legs, and she cooed even as she swallowed the other drone’s issue right down her throat.

“I promise,” I said, and left the two of them. Soon we would all be back in our chambers, still ever-pregnant, still ever-laying, still ever-feeding and self-fertilising. I didn’t know if my words were right, but I could only hope.

‘Kalea, it is time to return to your chamber. You must continue to lay for our hive.’

Bavura’s voice echoed in my mind. I didn’t fight her. She knew that one day I would be her boss, but for now and a few hundred years, she could ‘guide’ me to where I was meant to be. It made no difference, I was already moving back.

Back to push and push and push, and lay my endless clutches of eggs for uncountable years yet to come. It was, after all, my destiny, to become a mother to millions. To one day become the hive broodqueen.

The End