Two young lovebirds make silhouettes running eagerly along the sand where the rising Sun casts one side of them each into shadow and illuminates the surrounding world in a light that gradually grows.

The daring pair are both 27. Jack, an excited wolf with silky silver fur and occasional brown patches keeps pace with Layla, a well endowed mustang mare with fur a deep vibrant brown and a wide smile that seems to shine with joy.

Both are wearing only diapers. Topless and free, they traipse along laughing and enjoying the sand and the cool ocean breeze. Laughter echoes from them between brief teases and flirts, and they seem to wander the coastline forever in their playful escapade. Layla's breasts, free in the open air, bounce around just a bit with each step, to her amusement and Jack's arousal.

When they finally start to tire, a certain joy and love is still shining between them. And so, to rest their bodies while their spirits still soar, they sit and play in the sand not unlike children. Digging holes, building up miniature forts, and playfully tossing handfuls of sand at each other during lighthearted mock arguments are their choice of activity.

The Sun rises higher in the sky while they laugh and play, though soon they seem to run out of sandy activities to perform. Unheeded, they put arms around one another and relax. They gaze out into the distant horizon over the water.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

A peaceful warmth runs through them, and they content themselves to watch waves crash in comfortable silence.

Suddenly, however, they notice an odd shape in the sand. Two odd shapes, in fact.

"Layla, you see that over there?" the wolf points along the shoreline.

"Looks like... are those seashells?" the horse responds.

Jack hops up, "Let's go find out!"

He extends her a hand. She takes it.

The pair hurry forward to investigate, and sure enough, they come across a pair of enormous conical shells. The massive spirals are unlike anything they'd ever seen.

"Those are massive, aren't they?" Layla marvels at their sheer scale.

"Wow, sure are."

Compared to the usual fare of shells found scattered on the beach, these shells are unbelievable in size. Where the most one could fit into a smaller shell of that variety would be a finger, these seem like a person's entire head could fit in either of them.

The horse comments as such.

"It looks like you could fit your entire head in there!"

"Woah, maybe..." the pair both lean over to gaze at the shells. 

They look into the gaping holes at their bases that seem to yawn as perforations into an unseen abyss.

The aquatic rumble of a nearing rogue wave grows slowly to a roar behind them where they're distracted by the odd shells. They don't pay the sound any mind until it's already much too late.

The enormous wave crashes into their padded behinds. It dampens their diaper and shoves them over, sliding their heads directly into the twin shells.

Instantly, something seems to ensnare them. In tandem, the couple fruitlessly fight to get free from the shells' clutches, yet at the same time make no progress at all. They are well and truly stuck, and something seems to be prying at the back of their minds while the forefront of their attention remains on their present predicament.

They manage to get to their feet properly, though blinded by the covering cone shells. Points stick up in the air like the tips of dunce caps. Jack stumbles a little in his frantic attempts to pry the shell from his head, and he bumps into Layla, who hardly remains standing in her own futile struggles.

Indignant yells and shouts are muffled by their new impromptu headwear, and the sounds hardly reach beyond their shells at all. They slowly start to fall prey to another influence as well. Something is guiding parts of their body that they aren't making any effort to move.

The two shake their heads, push and pull frantically with their hands, and try to find some angle they can turn their snouts to loosen the shells, but they just don't budge. Layla struggles against her stuck shell while her tits flop about in the air from the motions of the rest of her body.

While they're busy struggling, the shells take advantage. They don't fully realize at first the way the rest of their bodies that they aren't actively using move and begin to dance and hop around ridiculously.

They prance around in their shells and diapers, gradually growing acutely aware of how ridiculous and shameful they must look, and at the same time, it becomes more and more difficult to fight the shell's pull.

Hopping one foot to another in a ridiculous diaper dance, the influence of the shells grows and grows within them. They spin about as they unwillingly perform their dance and begin to move toward the waterline as they do. They can't even tell what direction they're moving under the giant shells.

The shells seem to know.

The pair wade into shallow water. They still pry weakly at the shells covering their heads for a moment longer as the saltwater thoroughly soaks the padding of their pamps. Before long, they can't even control their arms with all the effort they can muster.

They're entirely in the clutches of the shells now.

Jack bends over and reaches suddenly into the water. He comes up with a small fish in one hand, utilizing a swiftness and reaction time he could never muster on his own.

FWIP PLOP SQUISH

He pulls open his pamp and drops the fish inside. It begins to flail and writhe as one might expect of a fish out of water, and the trapped consciousness that's been severed from control of its own whims feels fresh shame as his body moves with the rhythm of the squirmy fish.

Layla meanwhile does the same with a crab. She feels something worse than just shame.

SNAP CLICK SNIP

The indignant crustacean snaps its claws at her and leaves harsh scratches and bruises all over the portion of her body it can reach from within the confines of her diaper. Its numerous legs struggle against the thick, soggy padding.

Despite their internal pain and shame and protests, the pair continue under the influence of the shells.

They grab starfish, sea urchins, and more unfortunate crustaceans to fill their tidal pool pampers with. The snagged sea specimens flail, wriggle, poke, snap, and squirm inside, but the pair are helpless to stop the whims of their controlling shells.

Layla even manages to snag an eel, much to her own silent dismay.

CRINKLE SQUISH CRK SNAP

Some remaining impulses not yet snuffed and replaced by the will of the shells allow the paralyzed pair's bodies to writhe and flail with the pain and discomfort they're experiencing, which can only add to their ridiculous display.

What's even worse, however, is when the shells override even these base impulses.

The pair gyrate their hips around and prompt the pamp bound creatures to fight harder in their moving and frightening environment.

Soon, though, they dart off. Wet prints are left in the sand as they return to shore and dash about. They run along in a sick mockery of their joyful dash when they'd first arrived for their beach day. Though they lack the control to speak or struggle, they'd scream if they could.

PLOP THUD

Fish, crabs, and urchins tumble out through the bottom of their degrading diapers, waterlogged as they are. They land in the sand behind them unceremoniously and flop or scuttle away. A sand dollar drops down Layla's leg. A large fish wriggles out the top of Jack's pamp from behind and lands itself on the ground.

The pair run together seemingly aimlessly for some time. They can only let their legs carry them on, heedless of their own desire for it to stop. They run along until they come across a nice, safe indent in the sand.

They're vaguely aware of the landmark they've stopped at, less so of its significance.

Regardless, their bodies stop there. And suddenly, Layla falls to the ground. Her legs spread themselves wide, and her tits press against her chest and slide slightly aside under gravity while she uses her arms to prop herself up.

Jack drops to his knees a short distance in front of her.

CRINK SQRSH

She pulls her pamp down to reveal her cunt, scratched as it may be by the wildlife that'd visited the interior of her diaper.

He leans forward and lines the shell on his head up with her sex. Then, after a moment, he stuffs the shell deep inside.

STREEETCHHH SCHLLRRK SHK

Jack pushes himself forward into Layla's exposed sex, and her body stretches somewhat grotesquely to fit the enormous shell inside. Her cunt has to spread beyond what it was ever meant to in order to fit the enormous cone topping Jack's noggin, and the lining of her vagina tears and breaks in places from the force and utter lack of lubrication.

The unwilling wolf is ceaseless in then pushing forward further. It's a sharp point that pierces through Layla, as though it were an arrow penetrating to her very core.  It's only halfway to its full entry, and already Layla is agonized and intensely violated, though she has no means to express this or resist what is happening to her.

SHLRRRRK

With one last lurch forward, Jack manages to fit his entire head and the entire shell covering it inside of Layla's sex. Despite her intense pain, her body remains in place, legs still spread wide to let the wolf in.

Stretched to an obscene degree, Layla finally manages the first act of her own will since she lost control of her arms. She lets out a horrified, agonized groan that reverberates around the inside of her shell and reaches no ears but her own.

She falls silent again, but certainly not for any internal feeling of relief or calm. Her abdomen is bulged out enormously to fit the conical shell, and the bulge takes exactly that shape with the point inward toward her womb.

Her soggy pamp remains stretched out where it's been pulled out of the way for Jack to penetrate her.

After just a moment, Jack leans back and, with the force of his whole body swaying in tandem, slides the shell covering his cranium out again from his girlfriend's snatch. It takes a moment of straining to get it loose.

SHRRKKK POP

But eventually, it's finally freed with a loud pop. Layla's pussy gapes wide enough that an entire balled fist could fit inside it without touching the sides, not that Jack gets to appreciate the wide cunt of his own lover at the moment. With his head covered by the shell and his body servant to it, he simply pushes forward to bury it inside of her again.

SCHLRRRRFK

And repeat.

SHKRRRK POP SCHLRRRRK

He settles into a steady motion. In and out, in and out, some mocking simulacrum of the couple's bedroom activities. As he moves his body to work the shell he's enraptured by in and out of her again and again, her sensitive sex begins to loosen up.

Layla's cunt, repeatedly stretched wide, begins to have less and less resistance to bear to the repeated reentry of the shell. Though the lining of her pussy bleeds from the abrasion of the cone shell, it regardless slides in smoother and easier each time.

SCHLRRRRK POP SHLRRRFFK SHRRRRK SHLRRRRK

In time, there's not enough resistance to cause the shell to pop suddenly out of her. It becomes easier and easier a process to pull it out and slide it back in over and over. 

Eventually, Jack is moving swiftly and continuously like a well oiled machine, or in his case, a well controlled pawn. His cone head slides deep inside until the tip probes Layla's cervix with each motion.

A small opening at the very end of the shell that prods repeatedly at her deepest depths seems to bubble slightly with a strange fluid, as if in anticipation of a greater release. 

SCHLRRRRRK SHRRRRK SHCLRRRRFK

Throughout all of it, Layla is eerily silent. One might mistake her demeanor for stoicism over her present predicament, but her internal world is a different story entirely. Unheard screams and groans and sobs fight against the unbudging body that remains steadfast in its exposed position.

The mare's body refuses to budge an inch to resist what the shell has dictated. She simply remains and takes it deeper and deeper.

SCHLRRRFFFF SHRRRRK SCHLRRRRFFK SHRRRRRRWK SCHGLRRRKKKK SPLRRRRFFGHT BLORPT

Jack's captured body continues ceaselessly. 'Harder' and 'faster' are the only goals his muscles work to oblige. The fluid foaming from the shell's tip trickles out in a constant flow as the wolf presses it deeper and deeper until finally, it erupts all at once, and Jack leaves himself with his entire head and a portion of his neck buried fully in his girlfriend's pussy.

Layla manages the slightest twitch from her overwhelming urge to squirm and fight and struggle that every part of her overruled mind screams for as the viscous fluid pumps directly into her womb.

The fluid from the shell comes out in dense spurts that each run against the upper lining of Layla's womb before settling into a growing pool that's enough to bulge out her belly just slightly further than the shell alone can. It's such a disgusting, violating feeling, and surely a shameful display where she's laid out with her boyfriend in mutual forced lunacy on the sand.

But none of what she feels matters to the shell, and none of what she wants gets through it to her nerves and muscles. As much her mind is fixated on her horrific situation, however, her attention soon shifts to something worse still.

While Jack remains motionless with his head and worn shell inside of Layla, she feels something starting to grow inside of her. It's subtle at first, but over the course of several minutes, she can only conclude it to be palpably true. Something or somethings inside of her womb are expanding.

If nowhere else, this is where Layla would weep in her violation and fear and shame and uncertainty. This is where she'd scream bloody murder and let her tears stream into the salty sea so near. But she's granted not even that.

Her body, compelled by the shell atop her head, remains put in dutiful stillness. The womb that once might have given life to a family now grows something alien and vile. Layla's body is little more than an incubator for something else.

Time creeps by in hours as the little masses in the mare's belly go from pebble sized to football sized to basketball sized. The smooth, oblong objects are unmistakable: eggs. Layla can't put a clear estimate on their number from the physical sensation alone, but her best guess is more than alarming. The shell had already bulged her belly plenty, but now it's not even comprising half of her grotesque belly bulge.

Perhaps she should consider herself lucky not to be able to see out of the shell. Were she to see herself now, she'd certainly be sick at the horrible sight. She feels sick enough with only the physical sensation of the wretched fullness.

The Sun is hanging low in the sky by now. The eggs are each a bit smaller than the shells the pair wear, and evidently they're ready to be released.

POP

Jack pulls himself from Layla's cookie and sits up in the sand with a slightly hunched posture.

Layla props herself up against a mound of sand and positions herself to push out the eggs inside. She's unsure if she feels relieved to be rid of them more than she does horrified to birth them, but her body carries out its new duty either way. She certainly doesn't get a say.

Her stomach turns. Her body convulses, and she's not sure if it's even the shell making it do so.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, something pushes its way out of her womb. It'd certainly hurt more if not for the oversized cone shell that'd stretched her out plenty prior, but that's only a small comfort.

The rounded tip of an egg reaches her lower lips and begins to press out.

SQRRRCH POP

With a horrible sound, it drops into the sand and makes a thud as it embeds itself slightly. Already, Layla feels physically lighter.

Immediately, another follows.

SQURRGCH POP

And another.

SQURRRRRGH POP

Layla would be writhing in pain if she had control over herself. Instead, she can only wait through the agony as she births egg after egg that'd been forced upon her.

The eggs pile up gradually in the sandy alcove. Jack arranges them carefully to give them all room while they continue to emerge. When the mare pushes out the final egg of the bunch, they number nearly double digits.

It's an understatement to say Layla is exhausted after the pain and humiliation of the day and the forced egg laying, but for a brief moment, she wonders if it might be over. If some twisted cycle were complete and these horrible things controlling them might be finished and release them. In tandem, Jack silently questions the same, though he is not as potently aware of what's happened as his girlfriend is. She'd experienced the worst of it first hand.

But neither rest nor release are granted to the shells' hosts. After only a moment, they both stand again in unison and run off along the beach together once more, back to their quickly abandoned sunny spot with their possessions and fresh pamps.

CRK SQUISH PLOP

Before their feet even stop moving, they're both undoing their soggy, ruined diapers and dropping them to the ground. The shells direct them to reach for their supplies and retrieve fresh ones.

Aching hands are willed forward. They can only oblige.

CRINKLE CRK CRIK CRINK

They put on their fresh pamps and return to their bizarre, shameful diaper dance as the Sun sets on the horizon. Throughout the night and the following day, though their minds will long for sleep and their bodies for stillness, they will repeat their gruesome cycle several times over. As breeding stock, they will produce a whole fresh generation of their hosts, and their thanks will be nothing at all.

SHING

It has been just over 48 hours since the young couple arrived for their carefree day at the beach. Their bodies are battered and barely standing. If foreign parasites didn't force them to remain on their feet, they'd surely collapse on the spot.

Now, the pair have become useless to the shells, unable to perform their reproductive tasks or degrade their bodies any further. With a sound like the glint of blades, sharp teeth appear around the ring where their heads enter the shells. The pointy tips poke their necks on all sides.

RIIIIIIIIIP SPLATTER

All at once, they receive their final rewards. The teeth dig deep and decapitate them both simultaneously with a gratuitous crimson spray in all directions. Their bodies slump and fall over into the sand to become prey to decomposers. 

Their heads fall with their shells to the sandy ground with a thud, then they slide out meagerly and come to rest slackjawed and with tongues lulling loosely out of their maws. Empty half-open eyes stare blankly across the shoreline that the couple had chosen to spend a lovely day on together two days ago, and the giant shells roll a small distance away.

In time, their messily severed heads are discovered by curious creatures roaming the beach. A pair of enormous hermit crabs wander up and take notice of the empty, dead-eyed husks.

With a bit of finagling to empty out their skulls, the crabs fashion wonderful new shells from the pair, and such is their final 'rest': carried along the shore on the back of the crabs with their deceased, undignified expressions in open view.

They didn't quite get their day at the beach they wanted, but they did get a lot more than they bargained for.