Freshly hatched and vulnerable, the instinct of the infant aliens is to remain somewhere safe and comforting. The fluid around them makes it possible for them to survive without direct respiration, a fact He Ming might try to consider if he weren't so utterly overwhelmed. A literal gush of fluid exits him, landing with a wet splash on the ground as He Ming fights down another round of shuddering.

"It's alive," he whispers. "I can feel it. I can hear them." Voices much smaller and weaker than the parent's, but voices all the same.

Speaking of which, the adult creature is hovering over them again. Looking up, He Ming gives a weary exhale and forces his body to move. He can hear the desires it's conveying. Cehd'ra is encouraged to mimic He Ming's actions by pushing and prodding him back onto his front. In the process the tentacle at his back squeezes especially tight and gives him an extra tug.

"It wants them out." Propping a hand on the floor, He Ming raises himself back onto his knees. Oh, his legs hurt. He can feel cool air going inside of him, he's so loose. The sensation is replaced a few seconds later by the parent's much larger, stronger tentacles hooking into his hole and pulling it open. This time he keeps his hips down, letting gravity aid the creature as it wriggles its way out. He can't quite focus enough to squeeze.