The forest wasn’t typical.

  The air was too still. Trees swayed without wind. The ground felt soft—like it had lungs beneath it. Every few steps, I heard a hum. Not birds. Not machines. Something deeper.

  Rumors spoke of a young brood mother cast out from her hive. Some called her a monster. Others denied she existed. But the fear in those silences told me otherwise.

  So, I let myself get caught.

  The trap was elegant. Silk threads, barely visible, stretched low like fallen vines. The moment I stepped on one, it snapped tight. The ground beneath me opened.

  I didn’t fall—I descended.

  Silk strands caught and wrapped around my limbs, slowing me down through a tunnel of glowing wax and living warmth. By the time I reached the end, I was suspended in a dim chamber. Silk had already started binding my chest and arms.

  It went dark for a time. How long, I couldn’t say.

  Eventually, the world returned in fragments—shadows pulsing around the edges of my vision. A strange glowing bulb illuminated the space at the center of the chamber with a soft amber light. It pulsed gently, casting a living heartbeat across the walls of resin and wax.

  And beneath that glow, she waited.

  The chamber walls pulsed faintly. Resin coated the floor. I was upright, bound but not painfully.

  She stood in front of me.

  Young. Tall. Insectoid. Almost like that of an ant and bee mixed.

  Her hair was braided down one side. Her upper chest and backbore honeycomb patterns, while the rest was armored in matte-bck chitin. Her abdomen was segmented and broad, and her lower half was designed for something far from human.

  Around her, small insect-like creatures clustered silently. They didn’t touch her, but they stayed close. Watching.

  Beneath her abdomen, a swollen egg sack pulsed faintly. Alive but unfulfilled.

  "They never took," she said. "None of the drones I caught gave me enough to start the nest. These die a day after birth and grow weaker each generation."

  She stared at me.

  “You’re not afraid,” she finally said.

  “No.”

  “You let yourself get taken?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I was looking for someone. A young broodmother.”

  Her shoulders stiffened.

  “You called for me... like so many others."

  "I did not call you," she snapped.

  "You did... not with words. But I heard you."

  She circled me, clicking softly. "They said I’d repce the queens. So they tried to kill me. I fled. Thought it was the right thing."

  “You survived. That’s enough.”

  She fell quiet.

  Then, our eyes met.

  Something shifted. Her gaze widened. Her breathing changed. Her hips tilted subtly.

  Desire.

  A vision overtook her.

  She saw herself lowered onto a nest floor, her abdomen lifted, and her egg sack pulsing. Her legs spyed instinctively. I was behind her, careful, guided by instinct and understanding. She imagined me inside her, every slow motion syncing with her body.

  She saw her ovipositor twitch, feelers writhe, and her hive watch silently. She wanted to be filled—not just with seed, but with purpose.Her breath hitched. Fluids pooled beneath her. She blinked back to the present—shaky, unfocused.

  I still couldn’t move. Bound by silk.

  But I waited for her.

  She moved slowly, each step calcuted. Chitin's legs clicked softly. Her cws hovered near my chest, then slid down.

  “If I free you... will you take what I offer?”

  "Only if it’s what you truly want."

  She sliced two strands. Not all—just enough.

  She leaned closer. Her breath brushed my throat. Her cws parted the silk around my waist. My arousal was visible, and her eyes lingered.Her abdomen pulsed. Ovipositor twitched.

  She lowered herself.

  Thorax aligned. Abdomen curled beneath. Her canal parted, warm and slick, guiding me inside.

  She gasped. Her cws dug into the floor. Her body rocked, and I arched instinctively into her.

  She began to ride—slow, steady. Her rhythm was natural, biological. Not rushed.

  Her muscles flexed, drawing me in. Her breath grew ragged. She trembled.

  “More…” she whispered.

  Bound, I met her pace, thrusting up with each stroke.

  Her ovipositor pulsed. Her egg sack throbbed.

  The hive glowed softly. Pheromones thickened the air.

  She cried out when she came—her body locking, fluid releasing across her underside.

  But she wasn’t done.

  She pressed again, harder. Faster. Her cws scraped the nest floor.When I spilled into her, she screamed—a mix of need, shock, and instinct.She colpsed over me, panting.

  But her body didn’t stay still for long. She adjusted her stance until her lower half settled flush against my thighs, abdomen pressed to my pelvis. Her ovipositor twitched again, overstimuted and still hungry.

  Her hands trailed across my chest, no longer hesitant. Her thighs trembled. She lowered herself again, grinding, milking out the st remnants of warmth I had left.

  And then, slowly, her rhythm returned.

  She rocked back and forth, her walls tightening again. Her cws found my shoulders for leverage. Something primal had awakened.She moaned low as she rode harder, wet sps echoing through the chamber. The resin flexed beneath us. Her swarm remained still, the air alive with their silent approval.

  She arched as another climax overtook her—this one more violent. Her abdomen clenched. Her ovipositor glowed faintly. Her nectar soaked us both.

  Still, she moved.

  I met her thrust for thrust now, freed enough to grip her waist. Her breathing was ragged, and her cries were desperate.

  "It’s enough," she whispered. "This time... I can feel it."

  She buried me in the base one st time. Her whole body shuddered—then stilled.

  Her egg sack pulsed. Her ovipositor sealed.

  Then she slumped, spent.

  She y atop me again, smaller now. Fragile in her stillness.The silk bindings melted away.

  The hive was still.

  Only breath remained.

  Only her.

  She stirred after a while, breathing slow but steady. Her head lifted slightly. She curled against me—not as a broodmother now, but something closer.

  I wrapped my arms around her gently. Held her close, as I had with others who came before—each different, each broken in their way, but never lesser.

  “You’re not alone anymore,” I whispered.

  She didn’t speak. She only pressed closer.

  “There’s a pce I keep. Hidden. A haven,” I said. “It’s a home for misfits—for those cast out. You can be yourself there. All I ask is one thing.”She looked up at me, quietly curious.

  “Treat everyone in that pce as your equal,” I finished.

  She didn’t answer.

  But she didn’t pull away.