“I can feel each one,” I say, tracing the glow patterns. “They're warm. Alive. Moving slightly.”
“They settle into final positions. By tomorrow female's body will have fully adapted.” His tentacles wrap around me protectively. “Did this one hurt female? The stimulation was necessary but perhaps too intense?”
“No. It was perfect. Overwhelming but perfect.” I shifted in his embrace to face him. “I needed that pleasure to accept them properly. My body needed to stay open, eager. You knew what I needed.”
“Female's pleasure was this one's guide. Every time she climaxed, her womb opened further, accepted more readily.” He kisses me gently. “This one has never felt anything like sharing that continuous pleasure. Never knew such intensity was possible.”
I'm exhausted in a way that goes beyond physical. The transfer took everything from me, wrung me out completely. But I feel full. Complete. The eggs pulse steadily inside me, and each pulse sends a small echo of pleasure through my system.
“Sleep,” Aylth commands gently. “Female needs to recover. This one will watch over her and the eggs.”
“Will they be okay?”
“They are more than okay. They are perfect, protected, growing already.” His hand covers mine on my belly. “Female's body knows exactly what to do. Trust it.”
Epilogue: Three Months Later
I wake to pressure that's become familiar over three months of carrying, but this morning it feels different. Purposeful. The eggs aren't just shifting anymore. They're pushing.
It's time.
My hands move to my belly, finding the glow brighter than usual. The eggs pulse in quick succession, one after another in a pattern that makes my breath catch. They're ready. After all this waiting, all this growing, they're finally ready.
“Aylth.” My voice comes out steady despite the adrenaline flooding my system. “They're coming.”
He's beside me instantly, tentacles already reaching. “Female is certain?”
“I'm certain.” Another pulse of pressure makes me gasp. “We need to get to the nest.”
The swim to the warm shallows takes longer than usual. My body moves slowly, carefully, every movement focused on protecting what I carry. The eggs seem to understand, their pulsing settling into a steady rhythm that matches my heartbeat.
When we reach the nest we built two months ago, I settle into it gratefully. The soft materials cradle my swollen belly, and the warm water from the volcanic vents below soothes muscles that have been working for hours without my conscious awareness.
Aylth arranges himself at the nest's edge. His tentacles spread in a protective circle, but he keeps his distance, giving me space. “This one is here. Female is not alone.”
The first egg begins to crack an hour after dawn.
I feel it split inside me, the shell fracturing along invisible seams. There's no pain, just intense pressure and a sensation like nothing I've experienced before. The egg is opening, and something inside is moving.
“It's happening,” I manage.
“This one sees. Female's belly glows differently now.”
He's right. The bioluminescence has changed, becoming brighter, more focused. I can see the outline of the first egg through my skin, can watch as tiny movements break the shell into pieces that my body immediately begins absorbing.
The baby emerges slowly. First a hand, then an arm, then a small head crowned with something between hair and delicate tentacles. When the child finally slides free into the warm water, I'm crying.
She's perfect.
Small enough to fit in my palms, her skin glowing faint blue-green. She has my nose, my mouth, but Aylth's eyes. Silver-blue and already focusing, already aware. Her legs are human-shaped but webbed between the toes. Her fingers too. Two small tentacles sprout from her lower back, moving experimentally in the water.
“Hello,” I whisper, bringing her to my chest. “I'm your mother.”
She makes a sound, half cry and half something else. The translator can't parse it, but I understand anyway. She's hungry. Tired. Overwhelmed by suddenly existing outside the safety of my womb.
Aylth moves closer, one tentacle extending to stroke the baby's head gently. “Female has created beauty.”
“We created her.” I'm still crying, can't seem to stop. “She's ours.”
