[Untitled work regarding flesh, purpose, and insatiable loneliness]
CW: allusions to body horror, eldritch abominations, and transformation of the self
Grasping claws reach out from the mass of bodies. Feelers extend and taste the air as countless mouths open to chitter and beg for care. Their fangs drip with venom as a voice laced with honey calls out to soothe them. Eyes, too many to count, appear as flesh begins to differentiate; mouths become snouts and snouts become individual heads as they writhe to separate from their kin. It's a beautiful sight, and it fills your heart with pride.
They are your children, not of flesh but of soul. Each of them carries a sliver of your mind, of your will. Each of them was once lost, but you found them. Now, they are home. They are reborn in your image.
Each voice takes a name, and with that name a purpose. Everyone needs a purpose. Theirs is to hunt, to burrow, to nurture the next generation. Yours is to guide them. You pick a runt out of the mass, a little thing whose serpentine body wraps around your hand as you life them to your face.
"And who are you, little one?", you ask with your many mouths. Their eyes blink warily as it's gaze levels with your center-most face. The question was rhetorical, you know who they are, but it's best to let them speak for themself, it builds character.
"Wormwood", the small voice squeaks.
It's not a name you hear often, but looking at the creature intertwining with your claws you decide that it fits them perfectly. Still, they are small and unfit to serve the greater whole. Another of your hands reaches out to stroke their face, their whiskers extending to examine the golden tips of your fingers. You grasp them, firmly but gentle enough so that they know you mean them no harm. You place them within the hollow of your ribs; the perfect environment for them to feed and grow into something truly beautiful.
The rest of them scatter to the corners of the warren, following instinct and the instruction of their caregivers. It makes you happy, to see your brood grow. It makes you proud to see them grow. You call out to them, letting them know you love them and that you will see them again soon. Once they have all left you begin again, calling out into the places beyond. Calling out for more lost souls to return home, to be reborn.