Into (and out of) the Hole
Into (and out of) the Hole
By Hauke
The mine's operations were coming to a pause. It never really shut, not all the way. There was a night shift and a day shift, with perhaps an hour's worth of coming and going between the two. The day's workers were leaving, but the nighttime workers were late.
Special circumstances were to blame; a local bandit had been caught, and his public execution was to take place at sunset. The managers had to take these things into account; in fact, many of them would be there. It was a rare spectacle in a tiny mining town almost devoid of other entertainment.
Still, some very devoted souls labored at the mine. Among them were the diminutive Snuffis, a rather sour-looking cat in charge of materials and tools, and a large bull named Nustuk Sims, skilled labor.
Both were a similar shade of brown, though the fur on Snuffis always seemed patchy. Not only was he short, he was also very slightly built--perfect for accounting jobs. "I'm glad you stayed behind," he said to Nustuk. "No one wants to work these days. Why, this sort of poor work ethic is what leads to bandits in the first place! I'll see to it that that gang who's supposed to be helping you is sent looking for work on the farms."
The much larger bull was stocking up on candles and other supplies. "Just didn't feel like going into the square to see it," he said. He actually didn't feel like doing much of anything; he'd been feeling out of sorts lately. There was a strange hunger that wouldn't go away, no matter how much he ate--and it didn't seem like he could eat as much as he used to. But, he was still putting on weight. He absent-mindedly patted his gut, which while as hard and muscled as ever, bulged outward. "A good bit of work will set me right again," he thought to himself, and he finished loading the cart with several long boxes of spikes.
"Now remember, just haul as much of that stuff down to the end of the new track so the next shift in can just pick up work setting down more of the track. I hope the prospectors were right, or we'll be laying this cart track to nowhere. Nowhere and deep underground!" The cat shook his head, then said "Well, I'm off for the night. Work as long as you like, and I'll see to it you're properly rewarded. The more the crew gets done tomorrow, the more I'll assume you've done." He wandered off, and Nustuk noted with amusement that Snuffis abruptly changed direction when he believed he was out of sight, heading for town.
"I suppose everyone is going to enjoy that show but me," he thought as he began wheeling the cart into the dark shafts of the mines. Walking made him feel a little better. When he had risen this morning, he felt sicker than he had felt in a long time. Heavy, slow, bloated. "Maybe there's something wrong with what I've been eating, lately."
It was dull, repetitive work; empty the cart in the depths of the mine, wheel it back out for more loads of the raw materials that the next crew would use to continue the track further along some natural caves that led past an underground river, then into a newly dug section where precious metals supposedly were inches from discovery. Whether it was there or not, Nustuk would get paid extra tonight, and he said aloud "And getting rid of this extra weight is a top priority tonight, too!"
The bull was essentially right; he would be able to leave that extra weight behind. Its source, as well as the way it would leave him, would be a surprise. He had been parasitized as he slept some time ago by a being, desperate for a haven that had since passed on. However, before it did so, it had taken refuge in his body long enough to complete one final very important work: the creation of an egg, which drew from the bull the nourishment that it needed until it had grown large enough to create a shell for itself, leeching minerals from the bull's diet and growing still larger.
This was Nustuk's extra weight; the reason he felt hungry, and seemed somewhat nauseous whether he had eaten or not. The new life, blind to its surroundings, had continued to appropriate what it needed and grew to a pre-determined size. No regard was given to anything the bull might feel; and no regard was given to the difficulties involved in exiting its provider. This would happen soon...in fact, tonight.
The first sign that something unusual would happen was a sudden clenching of Nustuk's gut; he was on his way up from the end of the trail when he almost doubled over. His thighs trembled, unable to support him upright; his tail lifted up high and quivered, and he felt as though he couldn't breathe. His whole torso and abdomen were squeezing in, as if a giant snake were constricting him. It passed, and he got back up, but remnants of that massive spasm remained in his buttocks, thighs and stomach. Muscles there quivered once in a while. "Aftershocks," he thought, and as he started to push the empty cart, he almost doubled over again.
"What...the..." he wheezed, crouching next to the cart. It was different this time. During the midst of that contraction of every muscle in his abdomen, he felt something move. It was as if something burst; he felt warm inside, almost like a fluid running, but something else. It was a rather coarse thought of a particularly messy evacuation of his bowels that crossed his mind first. It was, of course, an evacuation, but not what he was thinking. He hurriedly grabbed some candles and paper wrappings from the bottom of the cart and trotted down a seldom-used side passage. "No one'll care, back here," he thought as he rounded a few corners, pausing every once in a while to wince and clench his teeth as another wave of contractions hit.
Nustuk came to a dead end, and set the currently burning candle on a ledge where it illuminated the chamber. It was narrow, perhaps 10 feet by 4 feet. Apparently, others had used this area for the same purpose, but not for quite some time...it was bearable to stay here. This was lucky, because Nustuk had no more time.
As he fumbled with his trousers, he noticed the back was totally wet. He closed his eyes and made a disgusted face as he felt around much more gingerly; to his surprise, there wasn't a smell...he peeked at one hand and then opened both eyes to look closely.
He was leaking something from behind, something very clear, but thick and slick. It reminded him of mucus. More was coming; that was what he had felt sliding around his gut earlier. The back of his trousers were covered with it, as was the fur down the back of his thighs, and more was coming. "What the hell is this stuff," he asked himself as he set about trying to wipe himself off.
As he was doing so, another massive contraction came, and he felt something definitely solid making its way through his bowels. More of that thick, sloppy juice emerged from his butthole, making a splash on the ground. He grunted, falling to a crouch, unable to stand up as ...as *something* made its agonizing way along some unfamiliar path inside him, ending at his rear. "Whu..." he started, and then groaned. He had never felt so full in his life.
Reaching back, he felt at his butthole, and was surprised to find that area bowed outward, stretched from the inside. The ring of his anus was not quite closed; he felt around it with a finger and then touched inside, brushing against something hard, and flat, just inside him. "What...the...hell..." he whispered, feeling it carefully.
It was huge. That was all he could tell from what he could feel. Another contraction brought his hand away from there, as he needed it to keep his balance, bent over as he was. Even so, he still ended up on his side, curled into a fetal ball, groaning and holding his stomach with his clean hand, and his slime-covered one. "Ohfuckohfuckohfuck," he whispered, dreading another one.
It came, and he managed to squeak "Someone..hellggghhh...." but then his speech degenerated into groans of effort, with occasional gasps. He lifted one leg slightly, as it seemed to relieve some pressure, which exposed his anal ring to the air. The shell of the coming egg was just barely visible, a pale dot against the reddish ring and brown fur.
Nustuk endured this contraction, and then felt back at his butt. At his touch, the egg shifted and disappeared back inside of him. "Fuck!" he cursed, and made fists of his hands, pressing them against his gut. "How did this happen," he said, shaking until the next contraction gripped him, making him freeze, a contorted grimace on his face as he wheezed.
It didn't seem to last as long this time. Nustuk lay on the floor of the chamber, panting and whimpering. There was no doubt, it was something big inside him, it felt like an eggshell, which was bizarre...could he break it? He decided against that, for fear of pieces ripping him to shreds...and he'd bleed to death in this makeshift shithole, deep underground. No, that wasn't an option. He'd just have to endure this freakish labor and hope it ended with him still able to walk.
The next contraction was weaker still. Nustuk let it wash over him, relieved when it was finished, but disappointed. He didn't dare reach back to feel the egg, but he was sure it hadn't made much progress. He held his breath and gave an experimental push.
His reward was a painful stretch to his anus...but it was definitely more than he felt during the contractions. Were those involuntary spasms merely going to transport the egg to the door, but not move it through? Was it up to him? Curiosity got the better of him, and he reached back to feel what was happening.
Down the length of the underside of his tail, his fingers crept as he continued to strain and push. They touched down against the strange eggshell, which stayed put. Relieved, Nustuk exhaled. The egg slowly retreated, almost disappearing again; but he could still feel the shell. "Then it's up to me," he thought to himself, panting.
He considered sitting up, or crouching, but decided instead to continue on his side. He took a few deep breaths and pushed as hard as he could. He could feel the egg move; it seemed to take most of his rectum with it. Damn, it was big--but he knew that already. Discomfort at being stretched wider and wider open began to compete with his desire to finish, and he had to stop. He felt the egg slip most of the way back in. It was an endurance test.
Minute after minute, a cycle developed. Push, rest, and push really hard. Clenching his teeth, screwing up his eyes, trying not to take a breath because that'll break your concentration. He'd feel himself reaching a new limit, gaining another eighth of an inch. Then, he'd have to breathe. He'd inhale, and suddenly his progress was gone.
But not forgotten. The next cycle would begin. Push hard, push harder. The previous point became easier to reach. Hold it there, hold it there, c'mon you're a bull, you're strong...you can...you can do...arrggh, no you can't. Not yet. The egg slips back inside, you sigh inwardly, pant to build up your strength.
Nustuk had counted the number of attempts, but he had stopped that some time ago. He couldn't think about the bigger picture; he had no time to spare to ponder how or why this was happening. Just pushing, straining for the goal, lay that egg...this was all that he could think about, and all that mattered now. He was in the middle of one of what seemed to be an endless stream of cycles of pushing and relaxing, when something got his attention: the candle sputtered.
"Damn it," he cursed, as the egg returned to its resting position inside him. The chamber grew dark, and he strained to see despite the absolute darkness. Well...he thought he could find the candles and the tinderbox. Not like being able to see would help him now. But it made him realize how long he had been here--close to an hour. Almost an hour of pushing and waiting, pushing and waiting for the next chance to push again. Would this damn egg ever drop out?
Resigned to labor in the dark, he grunted and began pushing again. Whether it was the darkness, or if it was just that he had made a lot of progress, this felt different. He thought of pushing the cart, loaded with ore, along the older tracks. It had been hard work; he owed his physique to it. Imagining himself straining along helped him channel his efforts. It helped block out the pain of being stretched. He pushed until he started to whimper at the feeling of being stretched...and he let go.
He imagined the job he had as a calf, pulling up dead trees. He'd grasp the roots and yank hard. The stubborn stump wouldn't move, but you just had to keep working. It hurt, it hurt, but it wouldn't move...never mind. Finally he let go and topped backwards in his head; in the dark cave, he relented, and the egg slipped slowly back.
He imagined a great godlike minotaur pushing around the wheel of the earth, every day finishing one complete cycle. He was that being, moving the weight of the world along. No matter what, it had to finish...but this day would never see the end, he had to give up. The egg slipped slowly back.
How many more of these fantasies past by? He couldn't remember if one was new, or one was old. They were written down in scrolls, he had to push them all uphill, cram them through a small hole. He HAD to .
There was agony. He could scarcely stand it, and he screamed, and then sobbed. But the egg didn't slip back; it stayed where it was. "This is an improvement," one part of his mind said, but this was rapidly dismissed. His hands clenched and opened spastically, he shook his head, knocking his horn against the floor of the cave as he moaned and wept from pain.
The egg wasn't slipping back inside. Did it mean this ordeal was coming to an end? Did it mean he had been ripped open irreparably? He couldn't breathe in more than gasps and pants, punctuated by sobs. One last image, one last picture--he had to crawl out of this cave, dragging himself and all his tools along. There was daylight: a phantom speck of light above him, he had to reach it. Struggle, fight for it, you'll never get out of...
Get out!
It happened. The egg slid from its host, who continued to sob, but for different reasons. Of course, his butt was throbbing, aching, sending screaming messages to his brain about what it had suffered. But the rest of his body ached as well, having repeatedly tensed and relaxed on the cold stone floor of this chamber. He didn't know if he fell asleep or not, but suddenly he saw a light out of the corner of his eye and heard voices.
He sat up, and his leg bumped into something. Reaching in the dark, his palm rested on the foreign object, now expelled. It was the size of a cantaloupe. Definitely an egg. "A bull egg?" he thought to himself, and he started to laugh.
He quickly planted a hand over his muzzle, silencing himself. There were others here, what would they think if they found him like this? He felt around for his things, found his trousers. They were dried but crusty; he'd have to make do. He found the candles, lit a new one, and turned to look for the first time at the product of his labors.
It was frightening. There were streaks of blood on it where he had been torn. It was a giant thing, almost too big for him to believe it had come out of him. Maybe it had grown since then? "A miracle," he whispered.
He picked it up, tucked it into the front of his pants and carried the papers and extra candles he had with him low over his front, hoping that no one would look at him too closely. He'd have to get home, he was starving...and he was happy to see that he had his figure back.