It had all begun in snatching a statuette from some spooky-dooky temple. She thought she could ‘Daring-Do’ in a little adventure and prove how brave she was, yet that far away mist-shrouded site might not have been the best place to try. Not that she had gotten caught by anything big ‘n terrifying; she had only plucked up the little golden statue to show to her friends, a shiny golden ‘bug’ thing with wings. It would look awesome on her mantle-place she had been sure. Since then the statuette had been lost, unimportant to the things now living within her swollen stomach. She wanted to be so alone this far-flung cloud made her feel safe for whatever reason as the slow lurch and gurgle of her guts made woe her mind. She had only gotten bigger and ‘fatter’ since flying up here. Like a spider made to create chaotic webs in madness, Dash had been urged to seek solace and solitude by the mass maturing in her belly. She didn’t know at the time why this was, even given how quickly she had become more gravid, almost unable to fly up to her lofty cloud perch. She felt oddly calm, if a little afraid. Afraid of the things she could feel inside of her, afraid more of company. Just what was coming? What curse had done this to her? Her mind in more an addled state than she’d realise these worries and concerns never got too far; thoughts repeat like the skipping of a record and before long time is near meaningless. Moments of lucidity lend meaning to the weight distending her guts and contorting her insides. How quickly she had become huge—stomach swollen up to the size of herself again with moving, squirming ‘things’. These moments of clearer thought made quick the heart and short the breath, an action already pressed by the weight of the things she was carrying pressing against all of her insides. All Dash could do was stare down at her enormous belly as its stressed walls churned and shifted; an horrific active pregnancy not of her own doing or by her own will, filling her mind with all kinds of panic. Such was fleeting, however, as whatever was inside made dull the worry and sense of self-preservation. In one of these moments, one of her living cargo had had enough time in its dark ‘n wet incubator. The poor Pegasus incubator could feel it inside her belly; a pressure and force seeking an out with intent, making the rest of her shift and squirm. She could flail her legs as much as she wished in hapless throes as the meaty bundle pushed and squirmed against the inside of her donut, its girth and movements pinging on nerves Dash wished it didn’t as it pushed out at her ring. It felt horribly sensational; an awful relief as this first ‘baby’ wetly forced its way out of Dash’s asshole, a fat maggot like larvae that had dwelt and grown within her now stretched out her ring. It slurped slowly from the magically aloft Pegasus. A curse of perfect evolution tells that this thing, whatever it was, had expected it’s bloated incubator to be airborne. Alone. The tail of the fat maggot hooks into Dash’s glorious tail; marring it with slime and new awful purpose, to be a hold for its chrysalis. A thing it spins after flopping out of Dash’s gaping tailhole to hang by icky bug-spun rope from the hair of her tail. It was the first to push its way out of Dash but was by no means the last; her stomach was enormous and squirming with the things, sick with new life. Her belly was completely infested with these huge maggots. It made useless tears well in her eyes. By this point she can do nothing to help herself; too big and fat with this swarm of things contained in her belly, the urge to flee and escape this fate only makes her thrash her small limbs, coming out as futile wiggles. She was pinned by her own infested weight. Another, then another of the mature fat things pushed their way out of Dash’s backdoor. They too in passing made her body tingle with pressed nerves and desperation apparently eased, at least for a moment, joining the first in making their mocking chrysalis’ from Dash’s rear. Some mingled into her tail, some hanging from the rim of her puffy donut. The pupating maggots transitioned from mighty meaty thing to something terrifyingly elegant all too quickly. Perhaps Dash had lost more time? Perhaps the magic these pests fed on from her made things happen all too fast. Whatever the case may be, the pupa lurch open with the efforts of the adult things within sooner rather than later. The drab browns of the spun cocoons forced open by the invertebrate backs of shiny, hard looking things. Born with armoured skin in Dash’s powder blue colour, they extract themselves at first like untightened mechano only to establish themselves on the open pupa and let their wings fill-out. Big big wasps. They are lithe iridescent things akin to none Dash had ever seen before—not that she could seem them immediately. In her prone gravid state, that would come a little later. For the Mist Hawks did not waste much time idling; indeed their only biological imperative now was to procreate, to create yet more of them to flit out and seek more Pegasus’. Yet more clouds on which to be born. It is in flits of some uncannily majestic mating dance, mid-air, that Dash sees them with wet distressed eyes. The adults entangled in glimmers of shiny armour and legs to create yet ever more of their brood. A brood that would have to go someplace. While the male insect then flit and flounders to a quick death, there are two females now fertilised and ready, and a hexed Pegasus right on a cloud near-by. It didn’t matter that Dash was already woefully bloated with more of them; their eggs could join the others and mature and grow until they were ready, the imperative of laying was much too great to pay much concern to the meat that incubated them. As they landed on Dash to find one of several handy openings in their incubator, the Pegasus could swear their abdomens were even larger than they had been moments ago. Swollen with what was to be forced into her. Given gap enough of mature fattened maggots, fed upon Dash’s latent magic, coming from her asshole the wasps with no patience to wait land upon Dash and her cloud. They clearly share, or stole her magics in being able to touch the thing as if it were more than mist. They both grapple a good position of their horribly distended host, before probingly sinking one luridly green appendage into that slime-slicked and twitching donut. It makes Dash mewl out in discomfort, but ever more so as those twin ovipositors get to work laying. Rhythmic contractions of both of those bloated abdomens pump the wasps young into Dash’s asshole; filling her writhing guts with the next generation still to add more to the hive growing inside of her. Dash could feel herself getting ever fuller, heavier. Her stomach already large was becoming turgid with the weight pumped inside of her; her skin taut and marked by stressed veins. More life poured into her to be given warmth and safety—for some reason despite her desperation the Pegasus couldn’t hate them for that. She tried to cry out but all that came was more desperation. A wetness, at first, bubbled up her throat from the immense mass filling her stomach—drowning out words and thoughts with fresher panic. There were too many by now, weren’t there? She tried to fight it down, desperately, but akin to having eaten all too much the moving weight in her belly was coming up. Yet more fluid from within made her cough and splutter before something more heaved its way up her throat. She could feel the mass of maggots bulging her throat. As the girth of horrid infestation fattens her neck out Dash wanted to scream; but the urge was to be trapped within though, by the wet writhing weight that filled the mare’s mouth with a gushing surge of wiggling bodies. Their meaty rubbery mob fills everything. They squirm into the back of her throat; to the rolling of Dash’s tear-filled eyes and ajar mouth they push their way into her nostrils and ears alike from within the struggling wet of her throat. Though those smaller ones didn’t seem to want out just yet—they still had growing to do! With the things squirming inside of her ears, nose and mouth Dash chocked. The wet writhing mass filled her throat entire and its movements sickened; feeling as though they were wriggling into her very mind with their sway and presence, quickly the lack of air begins to blush and daze. With the adults now done using her as a safe repository for their young, they flit away. Leaving Dash to the ‘nest’ cloud she herself had chosen. It isn’t long before the churning, gurgling of her hugely swollen stomach produces yet another mature plump maggot, its ponderous passage through her slimed donut this time mixing with the daze of airlessness that swims her larvae filled head. Setting off a surge of nerves that plays out in her engorged pussy, the sprits of pressured orgasm flailing her useless legs as she births yet more. Her whole body seems to tingle. With a belly now twice her own normal size, this was her new life it seems. A part of these things cycle, trapped by her own body and twisted mindscape, trapped on this nesting cloud.