The cave hummed with an electric anticipation as Yuri lay sprawled on the central nest, her belly swollen to a taut, round mound. Four weeks had passed since the forest festival, and her body had transformed—breasts heavy with milk, nipples darkened and leaking, hips wider, skin glowing with the hormones of pregnancy. The eggs from the ancient beasts, the cold beast, the warm beast, and the others had taken root inside her, growing rapidly, pushing against her insides. But the oldest monster's egg was different—it was dormant, waiting, its gestation requiring five full months.

Around her, the cave was filled with monsters. The two beasts coiled near the entrance, their tentacles twitching with paternal anticipation. The cold beast, a shimmering mass of ice-blue tendrils, hovered near her left side. The warm beast, glowing orange like embers, pressed against her right. Smaller monsters—the lithe forest spirits with vine-like limbs, the burly rock trolls with thick, stony cocks—crowded the edges, their eyes fixed on her swollen form. They had all come to claim their offspring. They had all come to drink from her milk, to feed their young once they were born.