Two months later

Everything hurts. The parts that aren't numb, anyway. You're fairly certain that even if you were released right now, your arms and legs wouldn't respond.

You feel movement in your distended belly, as you have for a couple of days now, but this time it's different. Some deep-rooted instinct makes you clench downwards as the first many-legged thing passes your cervix and starts crawling out of you.

As it pulls itself out, and its siblings follow, you feel tiny legs crawling up your slowly shrinking belly, and something latches onto your nipple. It takes a good drink, before skittering off to parts unknown (anything but your body, at this point).

After all of them have had a drink, you are left alone again. You only feel relief that your breasts don't hurt any more.

A couple of days later, you are brought down from the tree. There is no ceremony, you are simply picked up, in the position she bred you in before.

You wonder why you ever thought that this might be fun.

As the ovipositor plunges into your gaping cavern, something snaps.

Some time later

Incubator hangs from Incubator's tree.

Incubator knows it is Incubator's tree, because Incubator is always there. That makes it Incubator's, right?

Incubator knows that Incubator is called Incubator because that is what the voices which put things in Incubator's mouth call Incubator. Incubator likes those voices.

Incubator doesn't like the other voice, the one which puts things in Incubator's other part, but Incubator guesses that the other voice will come soon: Incubator emptied Incubator's other part not long ago.

Incubator knows five things:

This is Incubator's tree.

Incubator is called Incubator.

Incubator likes the voices that put things in Incubator's mouth.

Incubator dislikes the voice that puts things in Incubator's other part.

And, most importantly:

"You brought this on yourself when you hurt my daughter."