"What the
fuck?
" Mary shrieks, desperately trying to make sense of what she's seeing. Gloria's crotch leaks bugs all over the infirmary's floor, cocoons clatter, larvae splosh and butterflies slowly fill the room's airspace.
If that wasn't enough, she arrived with a student suffering from the same condition!?
She crosses her arms and leans on the closed door, a thought crosses her mind:
Should I just run? Get away from this
madness?
For only a moment she entertains the idea, before dispelling these thoughts from her mind. She looks at the student again, her stomach bulges, she is alive and breathing, but doesn't seem to be present otherwise.
Gloria looks at her awkwardly and with a flushed face, panting exhausted.
They wouldn't be here if they didn't need my help.
Mary flings herself off the door and adjusts her blue skintight wool sweater, pulling it down so it doesn't ride too high. Its elastic hem long enough to just about cover her crotch, some teachers called it cruel, wearing such provoking clothes in a college, but it was great at ensuring male students weren't too shy about coming to see her. Men did tend to suffer in silence, to just bear it otherwise, though this tactic did hurt her popularity among the female students.
However, if Mary knew she'd have an appointment with the same sex, she'd wear pants, to make them less self-conscious. Though she couldn't do anything about her huge rack.
At least Clover made sure the girls were treated fairly in the eye-candy department, appointments to him were almost 90% girls, though not all problems women had was something they wanted him to handle.
Mary walks hesitantly to Gloria's side. "So, what's the situation?" Trying her best to act nonchalant, normal. "Anything you can tell me of your... ails?"
Gloria pants and moans before she's able to answer. "Floret slept in the forest yesterday and now she's been umh... giving birth for a while... She feels hot to the touch, well... probably more than normal for someone in her state..."
"I see, she probably just caught a fever from that, further amplified by the strain on her body. But, what about you?"
Mary places a hand on Gloria's forehead, her whole body shakes, unable to stay still. It's hot, but not out of the ordinary.
At the same time, Mary gently shakes off the larvae climbing up her shoes and legs.
"I-I'm fine."
"Yes, for the most part." Mary then directs her attention to Floret and touches her sweaty forehead. It's searing hot and her dress is rife with darker spots of sweat, it sticks to her body, her bright pink nipples shining through the wet cloth. "Can you hear me Floret?"
"Nnn..." She stirs but doesn't awake.
Probably safest to put her on drip to keep her hydrated.
Mary inspects her hair, skin and dress, all covered in insect eggs.
This will be a bit trickier... a proper rinse is what she'll need. At least they shouldn't be hatching before I can hopefully arrange that.
Placing a hand on Floret's stomach, Mary can feel movement, wriggling inside. A peek underneath her bumpy dress, reveals the obvious reason, she keeps on pushing out bugs and butterflies, breathing out hot air through her mouth, her eyes closed.
"How is she?"
"She'll be fine" Mary strides to a cabinet and searches through it, finding two buckets stacked inside of each other and a piece of cloth. She then proceeds to take out a cold pack from the fridge and puts on white rubber gloves.
"W-what are you going to do?"
"We have to get these bugs out of her womb, her condition should improve when her body isn't constantly strained."
"R-right."
"And out of yours too."
Mary hands Gloria a blue bucket, she looks back bewildered.
What in the hell are you doing? How did you manage to make this happen!?"
Mary desires to berate this irresponsible joke of a teacher, but she settles in placing a cold pack, wrapped in cloth on Floret's forehead instead.
Mary sighs loudly to keep her frustration in check and determines it useless to say or even ask further questions. Gloria revealing that Floret had slept in the forest told her enough to piece it together.
Mary scoops up the butterfly larvae and pieces of cocoons spilled onto Floret's dress and between her crotch, sploshing them into the bucket. The cocoon pieces clatter and the larvae try to grip the plastic sides of the container, but cannot climb it.
Five handfuls are enough to clean it for now, she quickly places a bucket at the end of the bed and then gently pulls Floret to the edge, hanging her feet over its end.
Peeling back her dress, the bugs start dropping down into the bucket with a steady sound, resembling heavy rain against a windowsill.
Mary presses both of her hands to Floret's round stomach and starts massaging the writhing inside. The rate of her birthing accelerates.
Frustrated, Mary glances at Gloria and orders the teacher who's in the way of her operation. "What are you doing still on the floor? Sit up on a bedside and keep it under your crotch."
"R-right." She gets up shakily holding onto her bucket, sits on the bed and spreads her legs. She places the container underneath her crotch, starting to strain and moan as she massages her stomach too.
Floret's face twists and changes, for a moment Mary thinks it pain and eases her massaging, but then she moans and sighs in satisfaction. "Jasmine~"
Curse you Gloria, this is so wrong. I-I'm basically masturbating a student!
"Right... there... Ja-Jasmine!"
While she even plays some fantasy in her head...
Mary sighs loudly and tries to think of something else than Floret's moaning.
I guess the rumors and stories weren't all exaggerated... insect pregnancy was a real condition.
It was claimed to be a rare occurrence, but it wasn't unheard of in the town's history. Discussed with hushed lips officially, but it was a staple inside joke in the doctor circles of Perennial Bloom. "Are you sure it's not an acute case of bugs up the wazoo?" somebody would quip when discussing some strange symptoms.
"Sounds like a clear cut case of Insectus-Infectus" wasn't an uncommon phrase either, Clover even claimed that he had said that to one woman as a joke and she had passed out on the spot. He hadn't thought an outsider could be aware of the implications of an inside joke.
We also used to call each other "Ant Anus" or "Bee Pussy", if they were being annoying, or some variation of that. Though if you weren't good friends with the recipient or they weren't in on the joke, it usually left them very offended. Ah, those were the days, sometimes I miss the days at the main hospital...
All the new doctors who came here were told horror stories of such infestations, women with stomachs big as gym balls, every single horror-insect shooting out of their pussy and anus all over the place. Of men who showing up to reception and at emergency care, who'd cum out thin and long white worms, their anus being a home to an anthill, and storing insect eggs in their balls. Some would of course would call it bollocks, but when everyone can chime in on the issue, the horror in their face when they realize that somebody like that might actually one day come to their reception. Ah, that was the best.
Though despite all the word of mouth, no documented cases existed, at least any public ones. Patients were entitled for privacy after all, one couldn't exactly share any black on white, when would a patient agree to that?
Every once in a while new rumors showed up and some claimed they had treated such patients. Haley said she had helped three women infested with cockroaches, while Vince said he passed a woman in the street who smelled of impossibly strong honey and buzzed like a million bees. She even had a pregnant stomach, though Vince had gotten stung when he tried to pursue her. Everyone just joked how the bee was her guardian angel, for sparing her from Vince's advances.
And here I really was, treating Insectus-Infectus, the Butterfly variant, not even as a doctor now, but as a school nurse...
A breeze passes from the half-open window, suddenly something thumps to the glass, followed by a creaking sound of the window opening fully.
From Mary's peripheral vision she sees as Gloria stares behind her, with a look of disbelief and something else, she would rather not acknowledge.
