Discovery Litwaks Ep. 2 Unedited

Oh, hello there. Welcome to next installment of Discovery Litwak’s. In our last encounter with Insectus Ciberneticus, we observed an entirely new species’ prince and princess perform the intricate and complex Cybug mating ritual. We return to those specimens, much later, as a young and budding King and Queen. Our camera probes have been hard at work, constantly monitoring the pair with unblinking eyes.

 

We find the King, as he has been for the past few weeks, encased his taffy cocoon. Still resting nestled in his woven prison since the pairs union, he will remain there indefinitely, little more than a personal sperm bank, until the Queen deems him trustworthy not to run away, or until she incapacitates him.

 

“mmmnnn, no, don’t. . .”

 

The male is restless, and is apparently in some sort of nightmare.

 

“My leg. . .my leg. . .”

 

Whether or not this is precognizance, or simply biological instinct, is still to be determined.

 

After his nightmare, the male slumps back into his sleep mode. He savors his short naps well, for while the Queen is out on important tasks, they are his only chance at rest. For days now his existence has comprised of nothing but pure sex intermittent with brief moments or sleep. Around him, he is surrounded by his future offspring and subjects, thousands of eggs lay in ordered rows around the main cola pool; the future empire sleeps with its king. The queen has busied herself expanding the nest; beyond the royal chamber is an excavated a maze of caverns and tunnels leading to even deeper rooms filled to the brim with eggs.

 

What is more astounding is how the Queen manages to dig such a vast underground domain in so little time.  Such a monumental task would take a crew of a hundred engineers, armed with the latest construction machinery and explosives, entire months to dig out a fraction of what she has done.  The Queen literally eats the sugary ground, converting it into eggs and pure energy. Not a single grain of sugar is lost nor a watt of energy, as the sugar is completely transformed into eggs and the heat retained in the thorax.

But the Queen is not burrowing underground, no, she is outside and has been somewhere else. Like an expert tunnel spider, she crawls into her nest by lifting up a lid, camouflaged to the naked eye, and shuts it behind her quickly.

 

There is an urgency on her step, what remains of her old human form sweats, and there is a meticulous step in her legs. Though her steps are silent to our ears, the King immediately wakes up. He yawns, though he does not need to; a remnant of his old humanity.

 

“Hey dear, welcome home.” The King jokingly greets his master and mate.

 

The Queen is frantic, and does not notice him. Quickly she goes as close to the pool as possible, picks up an egg, and eats it.

 

“What the? Hey! That could’ve been our first kid!”

 

The Queen snarls something inhuman and points to a far larger egg the King had not noticed, silencing the him to watch curiosity. She lays down her enlarged thorax and begins to push, with muscles strong and flexible enough to lay a rhino, on the empty spot where she ate the egg. This recent labor throw of hers appears to be the most intense yet. At last, with a final push and a shout she and lays a massive egg; it is black and hard as stone, protruding with spikes and jagged edges, and lined with veins of lava. Most curious indeed.

 

“What is that?” The King demands, noting the divergence.

 

The Queen pants, taking a moment to catch her breath; of course, breathing is non-essential to Cybugs and acts only as a psychological relaxant.

 

“I said what the hell is that?” The King grows angered, but cannot do much. Even he realizes the Queen is in another one of her Cybug trances; a state of hyper metabolism.

 

Her four eyes no longer take on their human appearance, but now the grided cybug look.  All human mental faculties have been dropped, she answers only to her Cybug instinct. The King, only having to act for now as a pair of testes on the wall, never needs to enter this state and finds this most bothersome.

The Queen, having “caught her breath”, turns to another section of the cave and begins a combination of digging and feasting furiously. The king waits, listening to the rumbling beneath him as the queen makes an anthill out of the volcano. The queen uses her multiple visions on different wavelengths to avoid the veins of hot, molten cola and find the choices sections for a new tunnel system.

 

At last, the queen has been fed; her heart rate slows, human consciousness should return to her soon, but not yet.. Slowly, she crawls back up to the royal chamber to face her angry annoyed mate. The king has an expression of apathy and fury on his face, watching his still entranced mate move up and shed his covering. Following instinct, she stimulates him and once doing so mounts her mate and tries with all her means to arouse the king to fertilize her; no effect. After an hour without going anywhere near to finishing, she is confused and her instinct failing her, her cybug body slowly activates her human intelligence. She looks up, to see the face of an angry CynCent not looking at her.

 

“You resist. . .” the Queen half half asks, half demands in an equally half human half machine voice. The King only looks on in anger. Now her human mind returns to full, as she is capable of feeling emotion; specifically realization of his anger, and her own sadness. “What’s wrong?”

 

The King just looks on, and nods his head to the cola pool. “What. Is. That.”

 

The Queen turns to look around to see him staring at the egg she had layed only a moment ago. It’s veins of magma glowed and beat to a tiny heartbeat within.

 

“Oh don’t be silly van, that’s. . .one of my eggs. . .”

 

“That is not my egg, Vanellope.”

 

Fully human, it now dawns on the Queen that she failed to explain her situation. Indeed, only does she now remembers everything that had transpired earlier.

 

Cybugs are a fantastically diverse and flexible race, not only capable of assimilating weapons and tools, but the DNA and genetic material of other life forms.  Occasionally, when under a trance, the Cybug Queen will go out in search of new adaptations or genetic material to assimilate into the hive. This ensures genetic diversity and prevents detrimental inbreeding for the survival of the colony. As such, should they see any potential sources of unique adaptation within another life form, but cannot at the time assimilate it due to its strength, speed, or size, they will readily mate to obtain it instead. This is almost guaranteed if the species in question is also an insectoid.

 

In Particular, Cynellope, has recently visited the nearby world of Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker; the egg by the pool contains both her genetic material and that of the great fire worm Gohma, of the Island of Dragon Roost. This is an excellent choice, as their current nest rests within the heart of a volcano as well.

 

The reactions of the King to eggs not of his own descent vary greatly, from acceptance and care to outright destruction of the eggs. This is why Queens often subdue and cocoon their mate, to prevent this. Cyncent, however, still clings to his humanity and though he is not impressed, he is not violent. Apart from any human notions of morality and ethics, this is a direct challenge to his lineage. All he does is give her an icy stare.

 

Cynellope looks at the angry face of her mate, and begins to tear. “Please don’t be mad, it-it wasn’t my fault! I swear! I-I wasn’t in control. . .” Regret and fear sweeps through her, as she does her best to explain. Cybug Queens perform rituals of their own to ensure the survival of their offspring in the face of the king. The King stops to look down at his crying mate, who continues to persuade him. She releases human tears and mucus, and her voice becomes raspy.

 

“I’m sorry! Please. . .don’t be mad. I-I tried not to, I just- it’s- I couldn’t- I felt too good I couldn’t. .I. .” now her attempts at asking for forgiveness lose cohesion. Her human sobs of grief are mixing with confused mechanical chords, as her digital speech cannot decipher emotion correctly.

 

“Vanellope”

 

The queen looks up, eyes tearing and still sobbing.

 

“I don’t like what you did. I feel betrayed.”

 

“Please! Believe me I-“

 

“Wait, listen to me. I don’t even know whose egg it is. I don’t want to know whose egg it is. I don’t even know if this is the last time you’ll do this to me.” The King takes a deep breath, “But I believe you.”

 

The Queen looks up to see her King looking down at her, and he smiles; he shows approval. Cynellope moves in close, and sobs into his cocoon. The King moves his head toward her, and she lets out sobs both human and machine. The King is whispering something, I would move the camera probes in closer but I fear they would take notice; it can be assumed they are words of comfort mixed with cybernetic tones meant to sooth. The air is filled with these soft, graceful, haunted tones; they are speaking in a language both non-human and more human than our own.  They express more emotion, more compassion with each tone, than books and volumes of our limited vocabulary.

 

Slowly, the mechanical sob and song dies down to the slow and steady the sound of breathing. The pair enter sleep mode together.

 

Dawn, a new day, but underground time seems still. The royal monarchs have rested soundly throughout the night, surrounded by their thousands of sons and daughters. Two in particular, one larger than the rest, and one of lava and stone, sit side by side closest to the fire. As the Queen rests next to her mate, something disturbs her. She slowly opens her eyes to feel something tusling in her hair, and looks up to see the King eating candy; flakes of hair were on his mouth. A look of pure confusion is on both of their faces.

 

“Hey, bugbrain, um. . .why are you eating my hair candy?”

 

“Er. . .I’m hungry. . . Nell, I haven’t eaten in days. . .”

 

“oh. . .right. . .”

 

The Queen has indeed failed to feed her mate. The constant extraction of his genetic material coupled with the intensity of mating and emotional stress has left him weakened. Without a source of energy he cannot release a single drop of seed even if he wanted to. If he did not eat the candy on her hair, he might very well have died. There is a moment of silence, as the King takes a final gulp of candy and the Queen attempts to explain something.

 

“I have food if you want. . .honey”

 

“Honey? I'm the husband remember, I should be calling you that. I'm bugbrain or bugbreath or-“

 

“No you nitwit”

 

“-or that”

 

“I mean I can feed you honey. Honey I made.”

 

“You made it?”

 

“Yes. Don’t ask me how, but I feel like you should eat it.”

 

“Okay, where is it?”

 

“Let me  show you.”

 

The queen moves in slowly, her face close to his. They stare at each other, and the King can actually smell the strong sweet odor of honey. He knows not where it is, only that he can see her face very up close, and her lips tremble a bit.

 

Then she moves in, putting her quivering lips on his, and he finds the honey.

 

“Mmmmmm”

 

Similar to bees, Cybugs too can produce honey within their body. By digesting large amounts of sugar and sweets within her stomach, the Queen hasdiles tons of sugar a fine, gold, intensely rich honey. The amount of sugar needed to make a single drop of this honey is enough to fill a lake; it is such an extremely sweet honey, its odor alone could knock a roomful of people unconsious, and to eat more than a few drops of it pure would kill a grown man. A single cup of this honey contains enough nutrients to feed a city for 20 years. The pair pulls apart slowly to catch their breath, a thread of gold honey connect their lips.

 

“Do you like it?” the Queen asks, breath literally foggy with heat.

 

“No. I hate it."

 

The Queen is shocked.

 

"I hate. . . that you’ve stopped.” He moves in, she begins feeding him again again.

 

This is the tastiest meal the King has ever eaten in his life and ever will. Starving, he greedily eats his meal, exploring her mouth, feeling for more; the Queen is happy to oblige and reciprocates, using her own tongue to deposit honey and meet his tongue. He is utterly lost in multiple lusts of not only hunger, for the honey itself is also a chemical aphrodisiac.

 

Probing each other’s mouth for minutes on end soon transforms from feeding to the precursor of another mating ritual. Now invigorated with the miraculous nectar, the King gains the strength of ten Cybugs, and bursts out of his cocoon shell and unleashes his wings. They result of a metamorphosis within the cocoon, his wings are dazzling with color and hues of all kinds that would put a peacock to shame. It is his royal robe, deeming him worthy of being the king.

 

The Queen is taken by surprise, and the king grabs her by the arms and pushes her across the room. His body did not suffer atrophy, no, conversely it was in the cocoon that he gained strength. With well-toned muscles pins her down on her nest of wrappers, and holds her there.  The Queen, in shock, can only thrash. After easily holding her down for a while, she stops, and stares at him. His breath is heavy and full of honey, and eyes and mind clouded with lust and rage and emotion. But he is still there.

The Queen stops to stare at her mate, and grins back up at him.

 

“hah, what are we going to do on the wrappers?”

 

The Kings massive wings folds over them both, like a regal bed cover, hiding them from even our sight. At least for now.

-------

The King awakes again well rested, and very happy, though he knows not why. His mind has been jumbled by the events that passed. Groggily, he tries to get up, only to find he can’t move. He looks around, and sees that he is once more cocooned.

 

“Aw, what? Dammit. Not this again. I, whoa-“

 

The King looks around, and is astonished to see the royal chamber. The walls and the ceiling are covered with glistening, sparkling honeycomb cereal. He turns to see his beloved mate, placing the final one into a wall. With that, the queen turns to see her mate and hobbles painfully toward him. Her step is slow and awkward, as though she were in pain.

 

“Finally, you’re awake. Took you long enough.”

 

“And good morning to you too, why am I tied up again?”

 

“After what we did the past four days straight, there’s now in hell I’d ever you escape now.”

The King is shocked. “Four days? What the hell would I do for four days?”

 

“Does it look like I’m walking funny on purpose, beetlebrain? Ow. . .”

 

The King grins, the memory of the past few days returning to him. His humanity had long been repressing his animalistic instinct for too long. At last he had a chance to release it, and they both had the battle scars to prove it. Vanellope gently hobbled by with small bit marks around her neck and shoulder, while he on the other hand could not feel his own legs.

 

“I see. you’ve done some redecorating”

 

“Yep. We really trashed the place, smashed up a whole lotta eggs too.  But I think we’ve made at least 20 times as many as we smashed. Also, I thought I’d put somewhere to store all this honey, since you and the kids seem to like it.”

 

“Kids?”

 

“Oh right, you were out longer than I was. Over there.”

 

The King turned his head, and saw something that made his eyes widen. In the corner of the room something red wrapped around something green. A cybernetic Magtail with a solitary eye is wrapped around a tiny cybug, giving it heat, protecting it from harm. Instantly, the siblings have developed a symbiotic relationship.

 

“They took to each other like bread and butter. The little one hatched first, and then the big one the next moment. Little one starts crying, next thing you know the big one wraps around it and  they get real quiet and fall asleep.”

 

Cycnent was dumbstruck. For weeks he had seen nothing but eggs, something he could not relate to. Now, living proof of his parenthood stood before him, his own flesh and steel. He was a father, and now that was clear.

 

“The little ones a girl by the way, and the one wrapped around her is a boy. Though I don’t know how. . .I just do.”

 

The King looks at the pair, a sense of pride and love for both swelling up in him. He would care for them both, raise them, watch them grow.

 

“Hello? Earth to bugbrain? I said, what should we name them? You wanna name the boy or the girl?”

 

At this the King pondered. He had always wanted a son, but now that he thought about it, was the thing wrapped around his daughter really his? It contained no connection to him whatsoever. . .No. It mattered not. He would treat him as his own. A father to him he would be. Cybugs monarchs are often fond of taking in the young of others and raising them as their own, he is no exception.

 

“Vander”

 

“What?”

 

“His name is Vander Von Schweetz”

 

The Queen looks at the magtail. “Vander, I like it. I think the girl should be named, Vespix”

 

“Vespix?” The King looks at his daughter, sees the sleeping infant. A childs face and body atop a cybug thorax. “Yes, I like it too.”

 

As the pair stare at their children, as if on cue, the King’s stomach grumbles.

 

“Hungry, bugbrain?” The Queen askes, tentatively crawling to her mate.

 

“Oh you have no idea.”

 

With that, their morning began with something all mornings should, with breakfast with love.

-----

Far above in the air, eyes of malice and hate sweep the ground, in search of them. And one day soon, it would find them.