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Hornet awakens with a ringing in her ears and an ache in her body she's not lucid enough to place. Something solid constricts her, pinning her upright- the thick, dry, woody tendrils of Greyroot. Hornet scoffs in frustration, remembering the betrayal, and silently curses both it and herself. She should have known better.
Struggling against the brittle roots that bind her, she begins to break her way free, until suddenly a burst of effort sparks something revolting. Her stomach roils and throbs as tendrils burst forth from the spinnerets on her back, each orifice stretched wider than she would think possible. The sensation of it all is deeply alien and all-consuming, leaving her at a loss while the tendrils, far smoother and more flexible than those roots which hold her, finish the job of breaking her free and she tumbles to the floor, barely catching herself.
She takes a moment to catch her breath, hands on the expanse of ancient, twisted plants that forms the earthless ground. Unsteady, she stands. Feet planted wide to keep herself stable, she can't help but stoop weakly, leaning forward like she might collapse. She runs a hand over her pained abdomen. This feeling of aching tightness within her- Oh. There's an outward swell there, the feeling of heaviness not brought on just by pain and fatigue but by actual mass coiled within her. It's distended as though she's just eaten a regretfully heavy meal beyond her typical comfort zone. Hornet begins to understand. Slightly panicked, she reaches over her shoulder to run fingers over her spinnerets- they feel tender but are otherwise normal, back to their usual size, nothing emerging from within them. She breathes a sigh of relief. While her predicament fills her with a welling sense of horror, everything is under control for the time being. She looks around the thicket, intent on finding her way out.
The maze of tangled roots and vines holds no greater challenge than a few gnats, though in her pained and dazed state she takes a few hits from them. Though it wounds her pride, it's no matter. She can simply bind her silk and- It happens again. She lets out a grunt as the attempt to heal is hijacked, the parasite in her gut writhing as its extremities burst forth from her spinnerets. It's even more visceral a feeling now that she's fully awake. The tendrils wrap her tightly, as though trying to bind her with none of the gentleness or healing that her silk would provide. Terrifyingly, the lengths of tendril now outside her seem to provide no respite to the pressure within- if anything, she feels fuller, as though they aren't emerging so much as growing. After just an instant, they retreat, and she falls to the floor, no less hurt than a moment ago. This doesn't bode well, she'll need to be more careful.
Taking stock of her surroundings to ensure no further dangers lurk nearby, she leans against a wall of vines to once again examine herself. Her spinnerets ache, thankfully once again empty, but her stomach- Oh no. The curve of her abdomen feels even more pronounced now, beyond any state her body's seen before. It's not so large as to impede her motions much, save for the ache of its tightness. It's firm beneath her touch, carapace offering little give, though she does sense the faint vibrations of the gentle undulations of coils within her. She lifts her cloak to examine the swell of her stomach visually, and is mortified enough to drop the fabric and be done with the matter. Collecting herself mentally, she takes a breath and moves on.
By the time she's stepping along the jingling tunnels to Bellhart, she's wounded further and feels on the brink of collapse. The aching, stretching tightness has not lessened with time. It terrifies her to feel so vulnerable, even as she enters the threshold of one of the few save havens of Pharloom, and so she resolves to pull herself together, stand up straight, and make it to her bellhome without drawing any attention. Thankfully, her flowy cloak hides the state of her body well enough. She steps into Bellhart proper and avoids Frey and Pavo, immediately jumping and climbing the platforms upwards to her home. Tipp and Pill are, unfortunately, awake, and begin tittering at her to solicit deliveries. Her silent refusal isn't unprecented, though she struggles to stay composed and confident as she walks past. The roiling tightness within her is distracting, the wounded state of her body setting her on edge. Hopping past Scourge's bellhome and finishing the climb up to hers, she quickly shuts herself inside, locking the door behind her and collapsing against it in relief.
All facades dropped, she groans and rubs the swell of her abdomen. Wearily, she looks up to her spa tub, the ever-warm bath of silken water seeming desperately appealing right now... But she can't bear to do anything more than take the few steps necessary to drop her needle and collapse into bed, falling onto her side but still feeling the ache of the impact in her weighty stomach. Her needle clatters to the floor, and she groans, cradling herself in futile attempt to ease the discomfort. Despite everything, sheer exhaustion is enough to quickly lull her to sleep.
When she wakes, still holding her parasite-bloated stomach, it takes her a moment to come to herself, remembering what happened, becoming aware of her state. She whines and rubs the taut carapace of her abdomen, taking yet another moment before she realizes it's grown further. She's swollen such that she looks gravid and ready to lay, weaver though she may be.
Aching, she drags herself from bed, feeling utterly weighed down by the tendrils within her core. It hangs heavy below her as she reaches to pull herself up the usually-easy steps to her bath, discarding her cloak when she finally makes her way to its edge. Naked, she slips into the water and lets it come up to her chin as she reclines weakly in the tub. Letting out a sigh of relief, she lets her eyes drift closed for a while, but before long can't bear to ignore herself any longer. She looks down at herself, body hazy but not obscured under the luminous water. Her abdomen is round, protruding far enough from her body that its widest point is not flush with her waist but beyond it. Its apex wound be nearly halfway to her knees, if she would sit upright. She lets her head fall back and eyes close, groaning in dread at what's happening to her. The soothing warmth does enough to comfort the ache that she can let her hands idle, ignoring her state for just a while more.
She eventually drags herself out of the bath, water rolling off her carapace. Carefully, she climbs back to the floor, feeling the weight of her stomach once again dragging her downward, and dresses herself in her cloak again. Looking down, she lets out a noise of disapproval. The flowing folds of her cloak's fabric are interrupted by the obvious shape of her belly, smoothing over it and conforming to its curvature. She fusses with the fabric, trying to find a way to obscure her body more, and is frustrated to find it isn't possible. Grumbling, she stoops with some difficulty to pick up her needle from the floor, and steels herself to leave the bellhome. There's really only one person she presently feels comfortable confiding in, let alone appearing in front of, but she really needs help.
Unlocking the door and stepping outside, Hornet glances around Bellhart. Nobody's looking, and nobody seems to be anywhere they usually aren't. She hops across to the platform outside the pinmaster's shop, steadying herself with a hand on its exterior while hoping he doesn't take this moment to exit. Catching her breath, she steadies herself and jumps from the far edge, letting her drifter's cloak catch the air and slow her fall.
It's not as effective as it typically is. Hornet's body is strong but light, and the solid mass of tendrils within her weighs her down enough to make the fall startlingly quick even after the cloak billows up around her. She belatedly realizes she's rather on display like this, and hopes no one is watching. Shakra, at least, is occupied by her work, sitting on the platform below and studying her maps. Hornet comes to a landing harder than usual a few paces away, drawing the taller bug's attention. She turns her head to see Hornet, bracing herself with a hand as she kneels on one knee, bent enough to obscure her form, though her weakness is apparent.
Shakra's antennas perk in alarm. "Gara Takana! What has happened to you, Child Wielding Needle, to cause you such brutal weakening?"
Hornet looks to her timidly. "You are seeing the effects of a parasite, Shakra, a writhing entity implanted by force. It will not kill me, not quickly at least, but its presence wears greatly on my shell." She stands unsteadily, lifting her cloak in a moment of agonizing vulnerability. At least her back is to the rest of the town, cloak shielding her body from all eyes but Shakra's.
Shakra recoils back slightly in surprise at the sight of Hornet's distended form. "Ka, va! It is massive within you. I would not think it possible. You look gravid to bursting."
Hornet feels her face heat up with embarrassment at hearing it spoken aloud, ducking her chin. "I feel it, too... It's so tight and heavy, and it's grown so much in such a short time. Before sleeping, it was half this size."
Shakra stands, stepping closer, before crouching down to Hornet's level. She gently reaches out to touch the black carapace. "Child Wielding Needle," she addresses, before taking Hornet by the hand and leading her further into the nook of the platform, "Let me examine you. Come, sit. Is the parasite afflicting you anywhere else?"
Hornet drops the cloak back around her and nods as she follows Shakra with weary steps. "It is. The tendrils emerge from my spinnerets when I try to bind- to heal myself, as weavers can. It's... dangerous for me, without that ability," she admits.
Shakra sits with her back to the wall of bells, legs spread, and gently guides Hornet to sit between them, facing away. "Child Wielding needle, may I remove this cloak?" she asks with grave respect, only proceeding when Hornet gives a hum of assent. She removes the cloak and gently runs fingers over Hornet's slim, well-muscled back, tracing the grooves in her inky carapace to the subtle indentations of her spinnerets. Hornet stifles a soft groan of discomfort as the still-tender orifice is touched. Shakra gives a good look over all six of them, though avoids touching any more directly. "Do they hurt? I do not see any visible damage or signs of the parasite. Though if they are inflamed, I would not be familiar enough with your anatomy to discern."
Hornet replies, with hands gently resting on her swollen abdomen, "They're just sensitive. It only happened twice, very early into the process. I haven't tried since. I wonder if it might still be possible to bind without rousing the parasite..."
Shakra hums in thought. "Perhaps I could be of assistance. If I gently massaged them, it may help to draw out silk without so much strain from you."
Hornet takes a nervous breath. "I would try, in hope of my healing returned... Seeking a cure will be all the more difficult without it. I will trust you, Shakra." She looks out shyly to the town, much of it open to their current spot. Nobody is directly in line of sight except for Pill and Tipp, though they're far enough away... Scourge is a bit closer but they never seem to leave their bellhome. Still, being so exposed in such a state makes her nervous.
"Garrok! I will begin. Let me know if I should stop, I do not wish to hurt you." Shakra places her palms outspread over Hornet's back, thumbs just outside the indentations of the two lowest spinnerets. Gently, she begins to apply pressure and massage, coaxing gently toward the hole as if milking. Hornet lets out a soft breath of relief as the attempt proves not disastrous, and even slightly pleasurable. Before lingering too long on the same pair, Shakra moves up to the middle set and repeats her motions, relaxing Hornet's back and silk glands, and repeating again with the topmost pair. She gently presses a thumb to a spinneret directly, testing its tension. "You seem looser, Child Wielding Needle. Would you try to attempt by yourself, or shall I continue and try to coax the silk out of you?"
Hornet hums, uncertain. "I'm not sure. I would hate for you to be-" Shakra's thumb shifts in a way that sends a shiver down her spine, and the stifled whine she lets out is all the warning Shakra gets before tendrils erupt forth from Hornet's back, wrapping them both within its tight embrace for just a second before releasing them. Bells of the cave nook ring out around the pair while Hornet presses both hands to her mouth, stifling her panting moans of pain. Shakra is shaken by the surprise, drawing her own hands far away from Hornet's spinnerets, and Hornet promptly collapses back against Shakra's chest. The view of her body quickly explains why she has to silence herself.
Hornet's abdomen has grown even more swollen with the parasite, the undulations of its writhing within her just barely visible in the shift of her carapace's sheen. The seams between plates of her armor have stretched to their limits, lines of sinewy skin, as dark as the rest of her, just barely holding the carapace together. She breathes shallowly and with strain, obviously panicking and deeply uncomfortable. Her gaze flicks out to the town, hoping desperately they haven't drawn any attention.
Shakra recovers from the fright quickly enough to place gentle hands to Hornet's heavy stomach. "Te' bakk! My apologies, Child Wielding Needle. It appears I have simply made things worse..." She runs her hands gently over Hornet's straining carapace, applying no pressure, only the soft friction of a soothing touch.
Hornet takes a few seconds to calm herself before removing her hands from her mouth and panting out, "It is no fault of yours, Shakra... I was willing to take on this risk... It simply didn't pay off..." She groans, legs shifting in vain to seek comfort, heels pushing against the floor. "I feel as though I might split open... I... I don't know if I can take this happening again..."
Shakra continues to gently trace over Hornet's distended form, long arms effortlessly wrapping around to rub at its apex and underside, where Hornet herself would struggle to reach. "I must take responsibility for my part in this. It would be wrong of me to let you seek a cure yourself in such a fragile state. I will find someone who can help, and you stay here in Bellhart. Do not let yourself attempt to loose any more silk."
Hornet places her own hands to her stomach, having planty of space to not interrupt Shakra's gentle strokes. Her breaths are strained and shaky, and she just nods while Shakra continues gently soothing the swollen abdomen, stretched rock hard under her touch. "I think I may need to be carried back to my bellhome."