Slipping. . .slipping. . .grrr come on come on. . .
“Haaagh!” With a rather silly sounding “plop!” your titanic ass manages to finally squeeze through the cold and unforgiving stone, the force of your exertion nearly causing you to tumble headfirst into the open petals of the used egg beneath you. Luckily though, you manage to turn at the last second to only hit your collar against the egg’s leathery edge, the force of the impact eliciting a grunt from you. Groggily you climb to your feet and wipe yourself off, flinging a viscous rope of fluid to the other open egg with a wet “slack”.
As you collect your staff you suppress a shiver of delight as something in your abdomen churns, bringing your hand to your mouth to silence a moan, a thought comes to you.
“What if the fluid from these creatures acts as some sort of drug. . .” You know many spells which can displace or at the very least offset addiction, and you try a few to test your theory.
“Sooth blood, Clarity, Downpress, Narcan, Hands of Light, Gasp of the Undying. . .” Immediately the very slight fog in your mind is lifted and you feel more yourself. You aren’t sure which of the spells did it but. . .at least you’ve learned something about the creatures. Armed with your new knowledge you re-cast “rubber-organs” in anticipation of whats to come and take a step forward to save the TownsPeople. But, first you need to remove your Leotard as it appears to have torn in the process of squeezing through the hole and no longer supports your back-achingly huge breasts.
As you walk you steadily amp up the light from your holy staff and with growing worry you note the number of eggs seems to be increasing. None of them have opened yet but. . .you shudder, goddess above you surely don’t want to have to run from a swarm of those. . .things.
With your staff ready you round the corner and, pulling your gaze from one of the eggs as it shudders, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as a pit forms in your stomach. Staring you right in the face is a dead end.
Your eyes search the web-lined walls for any sort of opening, any further way past the current chamber but no! Not quite believing your luck you look back at the small entrance you just wriggled through, your gloved hand reaching down to touch the goop on your body and you feel its turned tacky.
You won’t be able to get out now.
Not unless you somehow manage to either break the structuring or tear through the solid wall of web. A small churring noise catches your attention and your eyes dart from egg to egg, watching in growing despair as they, all, seem to be opening. You ready your staff and take a defensive stance, knowing full well this might be the end for you. Judging by how soon these opened you guess you have just enough time to cast one spell. You’ve already cast rubber-organs and thinking quickly only a few spells manage to appear in your panicking mind.
A spell to render you temporarily infertile
A spell to buff your stamina and endurance, maybe you can outlast your attackers
A spell to potentially sooth the attackers and make them more gentile
A spell to reach out to your church’s astralwalker, a distress signal, one might call it.
Whichever spell you choose to cast you feel this will be your last action for the foreseeable future. . .maybe even forever. Who knows, maybe you'll enjoy being a breeder for the. . .what do you even call these things?