The gaping maw of Grubfather loomed before him. He knew what to do. Gathering up what courage he had in his young, soft body, the grub leapt clear of his egg into open air. Grubfather reared back, following the arc of his jump, and he fell head first into the soft folds of Grubfather's open mouth. Bands of muscle closed around him, and he slid helplessly down Grubfather's throat.

Grubfather's stomach was already filled with the other grubs. He pushed against them, burrowing down in the squirming mass of grubflesh. They all sought the same thing. Life. Dozens of sacks pulsed along the lining of Grubfather's stomach. He fought his way past the ones that had already burst, his brothers crowded around to drink the spilled juices, until he found one still intact and unclaimed. Opening wide, he closed his mouth around the sack, squeezing with his jaw until it ruptured and vital fluids poured down his throat. The taste woke something lying dormant deep in his own body. Life and growth sprang up within him, starting a transformation.

Still he burrowed deeper inside Grubfather, fulfilling his appetite by sucking fat through the wound left by the burst sack. The hunger of his metamorphosis drove him on until the hardy bulk of Grubfather's body reduced to withered skin. All around him his brothers devoured their way toward that final layer cocooning them from the world, until the thin barrier strained from the pressure of their growing bodies. His mouth pressed against skin, every muscle in his body pushing against the veil separating him from the world. Rubbery flesh split, and he lunged free.

He stepped out of the womb for the second time in his life, not as a grub, but as a grubberfly. The body of Grubfather lay behind him, a burst sack now emptied of its fluids. The hard ground beneath him was the same, but his feet, and his entire body, was different. His brothers wriggled out beside him and took flight in the still air. Each would make his journey alone. By impulse he flicked his wings once, and then again. Tiny new lives writhed in his belly, and instincts burned in his heart. His journey could wait no longer. His wings carried him away from home, his brothers, and the scant remains of his father.

Food. Territory. These were the only things important to him now. The lives he carried demanded nothing less, and needed nothing more. Everything he could stuff into the soft folds of his mouth fell prey to his hunger. Even as he fed relentlessly, he searched always for a place where he could build his nest. He flew without stop until he came upon barren ground unclaimed by plant or predator. Landing delicately in the chasm, he tapped along the jagged rock floor and coarse walls, feeling the vibrations come back through his feet as they bounced off stone and geo. This place would suit his needs. He set to work immediately. His grubs would come soon.

Earth dissolved as he carved his path. His saliva melted even the hardest stone, and his powerful jaws mashed the soil to paste. He ate constantly, every mouthful shaping his territory from a ragged chasm to an open chamber. His tattered wings, finally spent, cracked at the base and dropped off. He devoured them too. He needed all the nutrients he could get. Every day the grubs in his belly grew more active as they burrowed their own paths from his womb to the surface. Pain ripped through his skin as his first son pushed himself into the world. The rest of his children wouldn't be far behind. The time to feed ended. Now when he ate, it was to build.

He continued to gnaw at the earth constantly, but now the mouthfuls he took weren't for him. Instead he spat out the sticky wads of soil to form his nest. He shaped the pulp he made around each tiny grubbling like an egg. They would chew their way back out, growing fat and strong on the minerals in the earth and the nutrients he excreted in his saliva. He smoothed the rest of the pulp around his own body. It would speed the healing of his ravaged flesh, and he'd need that intact once his grubs had grown. Soon enough he'd swallow his children back into his gullet, where they'd gorge themselves on his reproductive organs. Once fertilized, they'd suck back his fat stores to fuel their metamorphosis, and then burst free to build nests for their own sons. The cycle of life had started anew. He was now a Grubfather.