Today was the day. The swarm’s royal procession would be arriving any minute now.

Gloriana stood at the steps of her palace, her heart pounding so loudly she wondered if her courtiers could hear it. The air itself seemed thick with tension; no one spoke, no one so much as shifted. She had extended the invitation. She had set this in motion. And now, it was far, far too late to regret it.

From across the city came the sound of chaos—an indistinct storm of noise drifting closer and closer. Shouts. Screams. Barked orders from the city watch. And above it all, that alien, bone-deep chittering, like a hundred thousand quills scratching parchment at once. The sound grew until it was inescapable, rattling in her teeth.

And then they arrived.

The royal procession swept into the plaza before her palace like a living tide. There were hundreds of them, insectids of every shape imaginable. Some strode upright on long, spindly legs, vaguely humanoid. Others scuttled low to the ground on countless limbs, or rolled and crawled, their armored bodies gleaming in the sunlight. Antennae twitched. Carapaces clicked. The air was filled with a faint, ever-present hum.

At the procession’s heart came the queen herself.

She stood tall upon a massive pill bug the size of a carriage, which trundled forward with ponderous grace. The queen’s body was a strange, impossible blend of humanoid and insectoid. Her four long arms rested with theatrical poise, her clawed fingers flexing idly. Her digitigrade legs bent backwards, each movement precise and unnervingly smooth. On her back shimmered a pair of iridescent dragonfly wings, casting dazzling flashes of color with every twitch.

Her face—oh, heavens, her face. At first glance, it was almost human, though cast in a cool green that contrasted the deeper emerald of her chitin. Yet the longer one looked, the more alien she became: her mouth, framed by twitching mandibles; the way her jaw seemed to unhinge too far when she opened it, hinting at the cavernous maw within.

And then… there were her breasts.

Enormous. Impossibly enormous. Smooth, heavy-looking, soft flesh sacs sitting brazenly atop her otherwise armored form. They gleamed faintly in the sun, untouched by cloth or covering.

Gloriana could feel the ripple of mortified confusion sweep through her gathered subjects. Courtiers shifted uncomfortably. Soldiers stared straight ahead with soldierly determination, their discipline visibly fraying. A child in the crowd gasped loudly. Somewhere, someone coughed just to break the silence.

And there the swarm queen stood, tall, radiant, alien… and bare-breasted before Gloriana, her court, and every horrified citizen packed into the plaza.

Gloriana’s lips parted, but no sound came out. She tried again, her throat dry. Oh no. Oh no, this is what I have invited into my city. The histories will never forgive me for this.

Then her two pairs of eyes focused on Gloriana.

“This one is thanking you for the invitation unto your cities!” Her voice rang out, strange and layered, as though two or three speakers echoed from the same mouth. “THIS ONE IS CHRYSANTHEMUM, QUEEN OF THE SWARM! You is all welcome to gaze upon this one’s magnificence!”

At once, the gathered insectoids erupted into a storm of chittering and clicks, a sound not unlike a hailstorm battering slate. Antennae quivered, mandibles clacked, wings shivered in unison. It took Gloriana a moment to realize they weren’t panicking—they were applauding.

They were an odd bunch. Loyal, yes, but odd.

Gloriana steadied herself, drawing her shoulders back, willing her court not to see her falter. She raised her chin and answered with practiced diplomacy: “Your magnificence is appreciated, Queen Chrysanthemum. We have a feast prepared for you and your closest courtiers, should you choose to partake. If I have erred in my arrangements, I beg forgiveness. No leader of the swarm has ever made contact with another monarch before.”

The queen’s wings vibrated with a sudden, thunderous buzz. Without warning, she leapt from her pillbug steed, soaring through the air with the grace of a hunting hawk. She landed before Gloriana in a fluid crouch, her four arms spread in a display equal parts regal and predatory.

And only then did Gloriana realize just how tall she was. The swarm queen loomed at least three, perhaps four heads higher, casting a long shadow over her.

Gloriana’s mouth went dry. Not from fear, not entirely. It was the presence of her—the height, the alien confidence radiating from her posture. And, saints above, the breasts. The utterly inexplicable, bare, oversized breasts perched on her otherwise armored body, gleaming faintly in the light. They swayed ever so slightly with her movement, right there, impossible to ignore.

Gloriana forced her eyes upward, back to Chrysanthemum’s strange, many-eyed face. She swallowed hard. Focus, Gloriana. Eyes. Not… lower.

But still, the question itched at the back of her skull like an impolite cough: Why does she even have them?

“Yessss, this one finds it acceptable. Where is the cute one?” Chrysanthemum’s voice buzzed strangely in her throat, the words rolling out like stones tumbling over one another. She spoke as though the common tongue were a puzzle piece jammed into the wrong shape—and of course, she had no lips to form the softer sounds. Each syllable felt pressed through mandibles.

“Skitherix?” Gloriana asked, her voice catching on the name.

“Yesss.” Chrysanthemum’s mandibles flexed, clicking faintly in emphasis.

“She is inside, with some others, awaiting your arrival,” Gloriana said carefully.

“Is that one acceptable?” Chrysanthemum tilted her head, four arms folding in strange, elegant symmetry. “That one is of this one’s finest stock. Big trust for the hyoomee’s this one has placed.”

Gloriana’s throat tightened. Finest stock? The phrasing made it sound less like diplomacy and more like she was being offered a prize goat. “Y-yep! Great. Lovely… exoskeleton. Couldn’t not be happier.”

There was a pause. An awful, suffocating pause where the swarm queen’s two pairs of eyes bored into her. Unblinking. Patient. Immovable. Gloriana resisted the urge to tug at her collar.

Finally, Chrysanthemum straightened to her full height, mandibles twitching in what might have been amusement. With a sudden, decisive snap, she clacked her claws together. The sound echoed like a hammer on an anvil. “Yessss. This one has good taste. You understand. Very good. Very good.”

The insectoids behind her rippled with approving chitters, as if the queen had just passed some grand judgment.

Gloriana exhaled shakily, the weight in her chest loosening by a fraction. But the relief was short-lived. Deep down, she couldn’t shake the gnawing thought that she was digging herself deeper into something she had no way of climbing back out of. One wrong step, she thought grimly, and I’ll be trapped in this hole forever.

And Chrysanthemum, towering and radiant, seemed all too happy to keep lending her the shovel.

“If you would follow me.” Gloriana gestured with a careful smile, and Chrysanthemum’s segmented body shifted after her, the faint scrape and clatter of chitin on stone echoing through the hall.

They entered the dining chamber, and a massive table stretched before them, laden with platters of roasted meats, glazed fruits, breads, and delicacies from across Gloriana’s domain. Servants stood at attention, trying very hard not to stare too long at the towering insectoid queen.

On the far end of the table, two thrones had been prepared: one crafted for Gloriana, polished gold and velvet, and beside it, another that looked more like an armored dais, reinforced with iron and layered wood to bear Chrysanthemum’s bulk.

“Skitherix told us how… impressive in size you were, so we made suitable arrangements,” Gloriana said, her voice steady though her palms itched with sweat. “I know that traditionally, monarchs would sit at opposite ends of the table, but I thought it best if we could… talk more easily while we dined.”

Chrysanthemum lowered herself onto the reinforced seat, her carapace creaking faintly as her abdomen curled. Her mandibles clicked as she tilted her head. “Skitherix is not only exceptionally cutes, that one is also the smart! Yes, clever clever. You see this one is generous, yesss?” Her multifaceted eyes glittered like amber shards as she spoke.

Gloriana nodded quickly, forcing a thin laugh. “Yes. Very generous. We are most honored.”

“Good, very good. This one shares the table, this one shares the kin, this one shares the future. Big trust for the hyoomees.” Chrysanthemum’s claws tapped together, an oddly jovial sound despite the weight of the words.

Gloriana sat down stiffly beside her, her crown suddenly feeling much heavier on her head. As platters of food were carried forward, she realized she had no idea what Chrysanthemum ate, or if offering the wrong dish might be considered some kind of insult.

And worse—when Chrysanthemum said shares the kin—did she mean Skitherix?

Chrysanthemum gave a delighted hiss when her abdomen slid neatly through the wide slot cut into the back of the reinforced throne. “Yesss, most considerate. This one fits, this one sits!” she clacked, mandibles flexing in a way that Gloriana could only hope was a smile.

Gloriana lowered herself into her own chair with more dignity, though her stomach twisted as she smoothed her skirt. One by one, the other invited nobles and courtiers filed into the chamber, bowing deeply before taking their places along the table. Conversation was hushed, uncertain. The air shimmered with the weight of ceremony, accentuated by the faint musk of resin and pheromones that radiated from the swarm queen.

Skitherix approached last, gliding on delicate limbs, her polished carapace gleaming in the torchlight. Without hesitation, she curled gracefully on the floor to Gloriana’s right, resting her spindly arms across her knees and lowering her head in a pose of quiet devotion. Gloriana shifted uncomfortably but placed her hand upon Skitherix’s shoulder, the gesture both awkward and oddly reassuring.

Rising, Gloriana lifted her goblet. Her voice carried through the hall, steady despite the tremor in her chest.

“For the first time in known history, we dine with the leader of the swarm. We are honoured by their… shows of good faith, and we can only hope that our gestures are appreciated in turn.”

A silence fell. All eyes turned to Chrysanthemum. The insect queen tilted her head slowly, antennae swaying. Then she raised her clawed arms high, clacking them together in a thunderous rhythm that echoed like drums through the hall.

“Yesss, this one hears! This one sees! The hyoomees show the food, the place, the kin. Big honour, big feast!” Her many eyes gleamed as she bent toward Gloriana. “This one… approves.”

The courtiers exhaled as though they had been holding their breath as one. Gloriana forced a smile, but her heart still pounded. 

When the feast was finally signaled, the insectoid guests fell upon the spread with an eagerness that could only be described as ravenous. Plates clattered, mandibles clicked, and the sound of chittering satisfaction rolled through the chamber. Some of them simply upended bowls of stew into their open maws, others cracked bones for the marrow with unnerving ease.

Much to Gloriana’s… let’s say, delight. Yes. Delight. The queen of the swarm herself was no different. With a single flex of her claws she reached across the table, seized an entire roasted hog, and dragged it toward herself. Before anyone could blink, she had split it in half, mandibles snapping and jaws opening far wider than any human mouth should, tearing through flesh and cracking joints with mechanical efficiency. Within minutes, she had reduced the hog to a neat pile of bones stacked at her side.

Several of Gloriana’s nobles lowered their meals quietly after witnessing that spectacle, pale and wide-eyed. One knight looked as though he might faint.

“The hyoomees do the food good,” Chrysanthemum declared with relish, bits of meat still stuck in her mandibles. “This one appreciates! We do food ball. Ten a day for the big ones, five a day for little ones. Food ball good, but not good like this one here!” She clacked her claws together and leaned forward, her massive eyes gleaming. “This one demands chef trade! You get food ball preparer, we get… hog.”

Gloriana froze with her goblet halfway to her lips. Her courtiers looked at her expectantly, some clearly horrified at the casual demand. She forced a smile, throat dry.
“I–I don’t know if we can spare our chefs,” she managed carefully. “But… we could have some of ours teach your… food preparers. Share knowledge, rather than trade bodies.”

Chrysanthemum tilted her head, antennae twitching. For a long, uncomfortable moment she stared, mandibles clicking in thought. Finally she gave a low hum that rattled the plates on the table.
“Yesss. Teaching is good. This one accepts… for now.”

A few nobles visibly exhaled, though the tension at the table did not fully ease.

After decimating several more dishes—each intended for a family of four, now reduced to nothing but bones and scraps—the clatter of cutlery slowed, and the feast drew to a close. Courtiers exchanged wide-eyed glances, whispering nervously among themselves. Some dabbed at their foreheads with napkins. Others stared at the empty platters in disbelief.

Chrysanthemum leaned back in her reinforced throne, wings flicking lazily, antennae twitching with satisfaction. One claw idly picked at a remaining fruit, rolling it over before finally dropping it to the floor. Her many eyes scanned the room, landing on Gloriana with sudden focus.

“So,” she began, her voice buzzing in its strange, layered way, “did you find this one hyoomee gurlfriend, like this one asked?”

Gloriana blinked, her throat suddenly dry. She straightened in her chair, hands clenched tightly in her lap. “Y-yes,” she stammered, careful to maintain a calm, regal tone. “We… we have some volunteers who have offered themselves to be your—uh—girlfriend. You may choose amongst them after this, if you wish.”

Chrysanthemum’s mandibles clicked once—an approving sound, perhaps a smile in insectoid form. “Yess, yess. Good.” She leaned forward slightly, wings vibrating faintly behind her, a gleam of anticipation in her eyes. “It is soon time for the romance to be happening.”

Gloriana forced a small, polite laugh, her chest tightening. She could feel the weight of the swarm queen’s gaze as if it were a physical pressure. Around the table, murmurs rippled through the courtiers. Some whispered in fascination, others in horror.

Soon time for the romance to be happening. The thought replayed in Gloriana’s mind, like a drumbeat she couldn’t ignore. She realized that she had, in her well-intentioned hospitality, opened the door to something entirely unprecedented. Something that could not be reversed.

And somehow, somewhere, the thought of Skitherix curled quietly at her side made the prospect both terrifying and… oddly endearing.

 

 

 

In front of Chrysanthemum, an assortment of ladies had been arranged. From where she sat, the swarm queen squinted—or rather, flexed her eyes in all directions at once—trying to make sense of the gathering. She was pretty sure they were all hyoomees, just as she had requested, but their shapes and appendages were confusing.

One had a fluffy orange tail and pointed ears, like some small fox creature. Did hyoomees sometimes have tails? Chrysanthemum had no reference. She assumed it was fine. Probably fine.

“You.” She jabbed a claw toward one of the girls, the gesture more deliberate than polite. The chosen one had a dreadful reptile-like tail and spiraling horns that reminded Chrysanthemum far too much of the predators lurking in the dark edges of her swamplands. But she would give her a chance. Perhaps she is brave, yes?

“Have you… been done the romancing before?” Chrysanthemum asked, her voice a strange mix of curiosity and blunt command. Mandibles clicked faintly as her gaze swept over the girl, assessing her like a predator sizing up a potential prey—but the kind of prey one might also… keep close.

The courtiers shifted nervously, glancing at Gloriana for guidance. Gloriana herself flushed, unsure whether to answer, intervene, or simply pray the girl did not faint.

The girl swallowed hard, straightening her shoulders. “I… I have… some experience, my queen.”

Chrysanthemum’s wings twitched. “Good. This one… approves. Brave, yes. Worthy of being tested. We shall see how… cute she is when romancing is attempted.”

Skitherix, curled quietly at Gloriana’s side, gave a tiny chirp of warning, antennae flicking nervously. Gloriana’s chest tightened. Oh, gods, this is really happening.

“In the books this one reads, the romancers do face smushing. This one does not understand the face smushing, but this one wishes to experience all of the romance.”

The weirdly reptilian human’s cheeks turned a deep, panicked red. She ducked her head slightly, clearly mortified by her own words.

Chrysanthemum bolted upright in her throne, her four arms flexing, wings flaring. She loomed over all the women assembled, a terrifying shadow of green chitin and mandibles. A hiss rolled from deep in her throat, vibrating through the air like a low storm.

“Q-queen Chrysanthemum, what’s wrong?” Gloriana stammered, rising from her seat, eyes wide. Panic threaded every word.

“THAT ONE THREAT DISPLAYS AGAINST ME! THAT ONE IS AN AUDACITY!” Chrysanthemum’s eyes gleamed, antennae flicking aggressively. Her claws flexed like she was ready to strike.

Gloriana waved her hands frantically. “No! No, Your Majesty! She wasn’t threatening! She’s embarrassed! Human threat displays are… much, much more subtle than yours!”

Chrysanthemum paused, tilting her head, mandibles clicking thoughtfully. “Oh. Okay.” Slowly, she sank back onto the reinforced throne, wings folding neatly behind her. She began appraising the assembled girls once more, as if nothing had happened, her gaze sweeping with the same meticulous intensity as before.

Of course, everyone else in the hall was far from acting like nothing had happened. Courtiers whispered, gasped, and some clutched at their hearts. Several of the volunteers stared frozen in place, unsure if they should flee, faint, or apologize.

Only Skitherix remained utterly unshaken, perched quietly on the floor by Gloriana’s side. Her antennae twitched in quiet amusement. She knew Chrysanthemum well enough to understand: to the swarm queen, this was simply part of her rigorous, alien appraisal of potential partners. Nothing personal.

Gloriana exhaled shakily, placing a hand over her heart. I am going to regret hosting this, aren’t I? she thought, watching Chrysanthemum’s multifaceted eyes settle once more on the gathered volunteers.

The swarm queen rose from her throne, her wings fluttering faintly behind her, and moved with a surprising grace toward the line of women. The hall seemed to shrink under her immense presence, her four arms swinging slightly as she approached each volunteer with the air of someone conducting a most important inspection.

She bent down in front of one of the shorter women, tilting her head so that she could take in every detail. The girl, however, seemed utterly fixated—not on Chrysanthemum’s face, not on her intricate chitin, but on the enormous, bare flesh sacs that hung from her chest.

Chrysanthemum’s mandibles clicked softly in confusion. She shifted from side to side, subtly, trying to catch the girl’s attention elsewhere. But the woman’s gaze stubbornly followed the swaying breasts, flicking up and down as though studying them like some strange, alien architecture.

“This one is staring at the flesh sacs. Why?” Chrysanthemum hissed quietly to herself, antennae twitching in what might have been indignation—or perplexity. She leaned closer, mandibles flexing as if to demand an explanation, and a low, curious buzz vibrated from her throat.

The girl’s face turned bright red, stammering as she tried to tear her eyes away. “I-I… I’m… I’m just… trying not to… look!”

Chrysanthemum tilted her head again, regarding her like one would a particularly curious insect. “Hmph. This one does not understand humans. Very strange. Very… fascinating. This one shall note behavior for future observation.”

Skitherix, curled quietly on the floor nearby, let out a tiny, almost inaudible chitter of amusement, antennae flicking rapidly. Gloriana’s fingers gripped the edge of her chair. Oh gods, she thought, this is going to be a long, long afternoon.

In the end, three women were chosen.

The first was the short one who had been audacious enough to stare at Chrysanthemum’s… unusual flesh sacs. Her cheeks still burned red, but there was a spark of determination in her eyes.

The second was the strangely both appealing and unappealing reptilian hyoomee with spiraling horns and a tail that reminded Chrysanthemum too much of predators from her swamplands—but who, somehow, exuded a strange charm.

The third was a very big, wide, green-skinned woman whose muscles rippled beneath an exoskeleton that was harder, less yielding than the others—but Chrysanthemum approved of this. Very good, she thought. Strength for romance is important.

Chrysanthemum leaned forward, antennae twitching, mandibles clicking in excitement. “This one… will go on the dates with yous. This one… will find best candidate. Then… you will be girlfriend to the queen of the swarm! Great honour. Much romance!”