Every sound makes me jump. Skirlings? Other predators? Him? But nothing enters the cave. Nothing finds me.
I try to sleep but can't. The proto-eggs are almost fully dissolved now, creating maximum need. My pussy throbs in time with my heartbeat. My skin feels too tight. Every nerve screams for what's not coming.
But I'm free. Suffering but free.
Tomorrow will be easier. Has to be. The withdrawal will peak and then fade. The purple fruits will be enough. I'll survive until the portal opens and go home with my body my own again.
I curl on the moss, alone in the dark, pussy clenching on nothing, and tell myself this is victory.
Tell myself I don't miss his coils.
Tell myself I don't need what my body is screaming for.
Tell myself twenty more days is possible.
In the darkness of my hidden cave, trembling from cold and withdrawal and isolation, I almost believe it.
Almost.
KASS
Iwake to my own screaming.
Not fear. Need. My pussy is clenching so hard it's actually painful, muscles cramping from the constant spasming. The proto-eggs have fully dissolved during the night, flooding my system with need. My clit throbs so violently I can see it pulsing in the dim cave light, jutting out like a tiny cock, angry and swollen.
The cave floor beneath me is soaked. Not just damp—completely saturated with my arousal. I've been gushing in my sleep, my body trying to prepare for breeding that isn't coming. The puddle extends three feet in every direction, making the moss slippery.
I try to sit up. The world spins violently. My hands shake so hard I can't grip anything. The fever started during the night—my modified body attacking itself without the breeding it's been trained to expect.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
Each word comes out as a sob. I crawl to my purple fruit stash. Ten left. I ate five during the night in desperation, but they barely touched the edge of need. My fingers won't cooperateenough to peel one. I have to bite through the skin, juice running down my chin, mixing with tears I didn't know I was crying.
The fruit helps for maybe ten minutes. Then the emptiness roars back, a physical thing tearing through me.
Water. I'm out of water. Drank the last of it trying to cool the fever. My mouth tastes like copper and desperation. I'll have to leave the cave. Have to venture out despite knowing the risk.
I can't walk. The realization hits as I try to stand and my legs simply don't work. The muscles refuse to coordinate, too overwhelmed by the constant clenching of my pussy, the radiating need that makes everything below my waist feel liquid.
So I crawl.
The cave entrance is twenty feet away. It takes me an hour. I have to stop every few feet when the waves of need peak, when my pussy clenches so hard I see stars. During one particularly bad wave, I find myself humping the cave floor, grinding my clit against rough stone until I come. It brings only a brief moment of quiet before the screaming need returns, louder than before.
Outside, the morning sun makes me squint. Everything is too bright, too loud. The bioluminescent plants pulse in rhythm with my heartbeat. Or maybe that's hallucination. Hard to tell anymore.
The nearest water is the small pool fifty yards from the cave. Might as well be miles.
I crawl through the undergrowth, leaving a trail of wetness behind me. My pussy is in a constant state of leakage, a systemic failure beyond simple arousal. My whole body screaming for what it's been programmed to need.
Halfway to the water, I hear it.
Chittering.
Soft at first, then louder. Multiple sources. They're communicating, coordinating.
Skirlings.
I try to move faster but my arms give out. I collapse face-first into the phosphorescent moss, ass in the air, the position my body keeps trying to assume. Presenting. Ready for breeding that isn't coming.
