But who is there to breed?

The need is overwhelming and all consuming, and you feel an enourmous preassure in your abdomen screaming for releaf, but unfortunately there no one else here but you. You wish your mother had survived, a high quality elf like her, molded into the perfect broodmother, stuffed full with your eggs, being bred again and again, and...

You snap out of your daydreaming by the sensation of something prodding your elven vagina under your torso, hidden beneath the thick spider hairs.

Its your ovipositor, its as thick as your fist but tapered to a sharp point at the end. It glisens with some sort of substance.

You hesitate for but a moment until you stick it in. It feels amazing, as much as your instincts scream at you to pump the eggs inside your womb as quickly as possible, you want to relish the feeling of getting filled, fill and emptied, filled, emptied, filled emptied, until you cant take it anymore and penetrate the cervix with your tapered point, which to your shock does not hurt at all, the point splays out like the petals on a flower and anchored themselves inside your womb.

You feel the eggs loosen from their chamber, you can see them traveling up your ovipositor bulging it out as they go, three at the size of a golf ball and one at the size of a tennis ball. Theyre close now! Here they come! As the eggs enter your vagina you orgasm for each one sliding in, pressing at the back of your clitoris. The eggs are dumped inside your womb together with an adhesive to fasten them in place and to seal up the entrance to your womb.

Your head clear up from the ordeal and you realise youre on your 8 knees. You stand up and your ovipositor falls out leaving some adhesive to splatter on the ground. The bulge on your belly is small and 4 eggs really isnt much, but hey, you have to start somewhere.

Something suddenly catches your attention, you turn your head and see half a face peering at you from behind a corner.