In the month that followed, Xue Tuzi's belly grotesquely ached as the parasite grew within him. His skin grew dark, veins threading like a map across his abdomen. It was only through the steady, grounding presence of the Great Sage and Xue Laohu, that he was able to keep from spiraling into madness. More than once, Xue Tuzi had clawed at himself in the middle of the night, desperate to cut the thing out. But each time, Xue Laohu had been there—hands firm, voice calm, whispering words of grounding in his ear.
"You're not alone," Xue Laohu said, pressing his palm to Xue Tuzi's damp forehead. "Breathe. Let it pass."
Xue Tuzi would breathe, shivering as the thing curled inside him like a knot of knives.
Then the day came.
It began with a sharp jolt that ripped through his intestines, snapping his body into convulsions. His breath hitched, back arching off the sweat-drenched sheets as his fingers clawed helplessly at the mattress.
"Shizun—!" he cried out, voice breaking.
In the next room, Xue Laohu froze. His hand hovered over the kettle he'd just set on the fire. The air changed. Something cold slid over his skin, as if the world had inhaled and refused to exhale.
Xue Tuzi's screams pierced the silence, raw and animalistic.
His Shizun burst into the room, eyes going wide at the sight. Xue Tuzi's body spasmed violently, muscles twitching beneath pale, clammy skin. A sheen of sweat glistened on his face, pooling at his collarbones. His hands gripped the edge of the bed so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"It's happening—it's happening—it's—" Xue Tuzi gasped, voice ragged and hoarse. "It's trying to tear its way out—!"
Beneath his skin, something moved. The parasite writhed like a serpent in a sack, pushing outward, testing the limits of its prison. Xue Tuzi cried out as it clawed and scraped from within, its jagged limbs battering his insides like broken glass. Xue Laohu's heart pounded. He couldn't help but take a step back, horror warring with duty. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to breathe.
Then the air shimmered, and a bright chime rang in his ears—a nauseating, raspy tone that made his bones ache.
A neon screen flared into view before him, its light harsh in the dim room.
PARASITIC HATCH INITIATED
STAND BY FOR EXTRACTION PROTOCOL
Xue Laohu's breath hitched. It was time. He paced the hallway, knuckles whitened against the damp stone wall as a wet, guttural hack ripped through the chamber door. Not human—not anymore. It sounded like something tearing free from a meat sack, a symphony of choked gagging and splattering fluids that made his stomach coil. He could smell it even outside: acid sharpness laced with rot, the tang of bile and something older, darker, like spoiled incense.
How does a parasite like this even come out? His mind flickered with unwelcome visions—Xue Tuzi's belly splitting like overripe fruit, a clawed thing being pushed down a splat of thick blood drenching his legs. Would it slither out coiled in intestines, glistening with fluid? He gripped his own stomach, nails digging into fabric. Stop. Stop. But his traitorous brain conjured worse: a larval mass erupting from his disciple's navel, mandibles clicking, still tethered to Xue Tuzi's organs by translucent veins…
A wet, guttural hack shattered his thoughts.
He froze. Not a scream. Not a tear. A vomit—violently human, yet wrong. The sound alone was a violation: mucous-thick heaves, a sloshing like a drowned rat being dragged up a throat. Xue Laohu's own mouth flooded with saliva, his body reflexively sympathetic. It's coming out his mouth. Of course it's coming out his mouth. The Great Sage's words from weeks ago hissed in his memory: "Parasites nest deep in the intestines absorbing as much negative energy as they can. Latching onto their hosts core."
The retching intensified, each gasp punctuated by Xue Tuzi's whimpers. "Ngh—hk—ah—" A wet crack echoed, like a joint dislocating. Xue Laohu's earlier visions curdled into something worse—this wasn't surgery, wasn't birth. This was extraction. Something ancient and ravenous being hauled into the world against its will, clawing at Xue Tuzi's esophagus on its way up.
The retching increased—Xue Tuzi's voice fraying into a raw, animal scream. A thud shook the floor, as if he'd collapsed onto hands and knees. Then came the sound of it: a torrent of viscous slop hitting the ground, not liquid but thick, like a carcass being turned inside out. Xue Laohu imagined strands of mucus stretching between his disciple's teeth, the heave of his ribs as something pulsed up his throat.
The Great Sage's chanting sharpened, words like glass shards. "Breathe! You must—"
A final, wet roar cut him off. Something heavy slapped onto the floor with a sound like dropped offal. Silence. Then—movement. A skittering, too quick for a newborn, accompanied by a low, warped hum. The air itself seemed to vibrate, as though the parasite's very presence warped the room.
Xue Laohu pressed his ear to the door. A weak, rattling groan escaped Xue Tuzi lips before he collapsed.
"It's Alive," the Great Sage muttered. "And hungry."
The Gu worm hissed. Not a sound—a vibration, like a wasp's nest stuffed down a throat. Xue Laohu recoiled, his own breath shallow. Whatever just slithered into the world, it wasn't born. It was coughed up from somewhere deeper than guts.
CONGRATULATIONS, USER.
PARASITE HAS BEEN SUCCESSFULLY HATCHED.
The system flared to life with an almost mocking cheerfulness, its neon interface pulsing with vibrant color. A burst of virtual confetti exploded across the screen, and from the distant, hollow corners of Xue Laohu's mind came the faint, absurd sound of party poppers—bright, festive, and utterly wrong. He winced, placing a hand against his pounding temple as the discordant celebration rattled through his senses. Somewhere in the background, the soft chime of coins clinking echoed like falling rain, each one adding to his accumulated life points, each one a cruel reminder of what had just been exchanged.
The door creaked open, its groan slicing through the tense silence of the dimly lit corridor. The Great Sage emerged, his skeletal frame silhouetted against the flickering candlelight from the bedroom. His sagging, parchment-like skin glistened with sweat, and his long white beard—yellowed at the edges—trembled as he methodically wiped his bony hands on a stained rag. The sleeves of his white robes, too large for his frail arms, billowed like moth-eaten curtains as he turned to shut the door with exaggerated care. When he spoke, his voice rasped like dry leaves, yet carried an unsettling calm.
"Your disciple was able to expel the Gu worm."
Xue Laohu lurched forward from where he'd been pacing, his loose robes gaping to reveal a heaving, sweat-damp chest. The flicker of the hallway torches cast shadows across his face, deepening the hollows under his eyes. His shaggy hair fell in disarray, wispy bangs clinging to his furrowed brow. He dragged a trembling hand through the mess, fingers catching on knots, as if the physical pain might steady him.
"Gu worm?" he breathed, the words barely audible.
The Great Sage tilted his head, studying Xue Laohu with milky, unblinking eyes. He folded the rag into a precise square, staining his gnarled fingertips crimson as he tucked it into his sleeve. When he stepped closer, his gait was unnervingly fluid for a man so brittle, like a spider skittering across its web.
"Yes," he exhaled. "Insect demons… they find a suitable host and mate. Imbedding the parasite deep within them." His withered lips twitched, almost amused, as Xue Laohu's knuckles whitened around the folds of his fan. "Once the parasite has devoured sufficient nutrients… it develops into its larva form. And thus, a Gu worm is hatched."
Xue Laohu's breath hitched. He staggered back, shoulders hitting the cold wall as his free hand flew to his mouth, the Great Sage watched, unflinching.
"Your disciple is very lucky to have come out alive," the old man added, tilting his head toward the closed door. "Most Gu worms are vicious demonic little things… they tear their host apart. This one…" A dry chuckle rattled in his chest. "It has already latched on. And is currently feeding."
The Great Sage patted Xue Laohu on the shoulder "come now the worst has passed let us have some tea" Xue Laohu's took one last glance at the room before departing with the Great Sage.
Inside the dimly lit room, a sickly warmth hung in the air, heavy with sweat and the metallic scent of blood. Nestled snugly within the cavity of Xue Tuzi's chest, the newborn Gu worm pulsed with life, her glossy carapace a translucent, fleshy pink that glistened with afterbirth. Her tiny antennae—soft and downy like a moth's—twitched gently as she suckled, mouth latched to the anchor point just above his heart.
Xue Tuzi gasped, a sharp pain lacing through his body like a hot needle. His brows knotted as waves of exhaustion overtook him, his limbs heavy, his head pounding like a drum in a storm. He could feel her draining him. His breath came in shallow spurts, lashes damp with tears. Slowly, he opened his eyes.
Through a haze of tears and pain, he saw the small lump nestled against him, feeding with quiet contentment. "Xiao Jiao…?" he murmured weakly, voice hoarse and trembling. His eyes struggled to focus, but as his vision cleared, something in him froze.
The creature staring up at him—blinking innocently with too-large, milky eyes—was not Xiao Jiao.
Not him. An imposter.
His pupils dilated, trembling, then constricted into pinpoints. The warmth in his gaze drained in an instant, replaced by a hollow, bone-deep terror that quickly twisted into rage. His breathing quickened, ragged and erratic. Darkness bloomed across his vision like ink in water.
"No…You're not Xiao Jiao!" he shrieked, his voice cracking as madness overtook him. With a cry of anguish and fury, he slapped the Gu worm with trembling hands, her fragile, newborn body sailing through the air. She hit the vanity mirror with a sickening crack, the glass shattering beneath her tiny form as she slid to the floor with a broken whimper.
Xue Tuzi's chest heaved. His hands trembled violently as reality crashed back down on him. He heard it—soft, high-pitched, barely audible.
"It hurts, Mama… It hurts…"
The words stabbed through him like a blade. His knees buckled as he scrambled toward her, his voice cracking with panic. "No—no, no, I'm sorry—I didn't mean to—Xiao Jiao—I didn't—!"
But before he could reach her, the door burst open with a thunderous slam.
Xue Laohu stood in the doorway, his robes billowing behind him, eyes sweeping the scene in a heartbeat. He saw the shattered glass, the trembling Gu worm curled near the vanity, her carapace glistening with a thin line of blood trailing down her face.
Then his gaze locked on Xue Tuzi—wild-eyed, unhinged, stumbling forward.
He's going to kill her, Xue Laohu thought, instincts snapping into place.
Without hesitation, he reached into his robes and flung a sedative dart. It struck Xue Tuzi's neck with a soft thmp. He froze, eyes wide, then collapsed to the floor in a heap as the drug took hold. Xue Laohu was already at the Gu worm's side. He knelt, cradling her delicate form in his hands. She whimpered, her antennae twitching feebly, tears rolling down her chubby, quivering cheeks.
"Mama," she sobbed softly. "It hurts… it hurts, mama…"
Xue Laohu's chest tightened as held her close.
Blah Blah Blah:
I want to remind you again that this is not MPreg. This is loosely based on Giardia and Roundworm. I took inspiration with how Roundworm travels up the lungs after maturing causing its host to have fits of cough and thus swallowed back down for a second cycle. Of course this is a work of fiction so instead of the cycle repeating Xue Tuzi is able to expel the parasite via vomiting. The cycle of a Roundworm from egg to larva is about 2-3 months. Again this is a work of fiction but based on science loosely. Sometimes.