Chapter Text
Originally posted to the Glee Kink Meme here.
Based on this prompt by the talented jemima_oxford (NOTE: there are story spoilers in the prompt. Scroll past the italics to avoid):
There's a type of worm that nests in the host animal's anus, grows to maturity, then lays its eggs inside the host. The worm is highly prized for bedroom fun because it stimulates the prostate.
Burt gets hold of one, ties Kurt down to the bed, and lubes his asshole and feeds the worm in. It's uncomfortable and gross, Kurt is crying and asking his Dad to stop, but a few seconds later the worm is wriggling against Kurt's prostate. Burt spreads Kurt's asscheeks so he can watch the tail of the worm sticking out, wiggling as the worm wriggles inside Kurt's body and stretches his asshole. When Kurt comes, it's the most powerful orgasm he's ever had.
Burt cleans the tears from Kurt's face and comforts him, Kurt's all shaky and weak from coming so hard. Burt tells him how well he's doing, and that they have to take care of the worm so it can grow (he can even give the worm a name).
Days pass and the worm grows little by little, and Burt pulls it out of Kurt's anus sometimes to give him a break, and the worm's always wriggling and desperate to get back inside. Burt puts a pillow under Kurt's hips and fucks his ass, getting off on how nicely Kurt's hole takes him because the worm has stretched and lubed him. Kurt is humiliated by turned on. Burt comes in him then guides the worm to Kurt's crack and lets it crawl back inside. He talks dirty, saying how the worm will eat Burt's come inside of Kurt. Kurt feels so dirty for getting off on what Burt says, and for moaning and loving how the worm feels wiggling its way determinedly into him.
There can be times, in the night, when the worm starts to wriggle and Kurt can't do anything, and Kurt comes just from his prostate being stimulated, but the worm keeps going until Kurt gets hard again.
Finally, the worm is ready to have its eggs. It slides out of Kurt's ass, turns around, and inserts its back end into him, pumping him full of eggs.
The worm then slips out and dies, leaving the nest of eggs inside. Burt spreads Kurt's ass cheeks and is so aroused by the sight of one of the eggs visible inside, he jerks off on Kurt's stretched asshole.
Kurt has to keep the eggs in for 24 hours, then he pushes them out, it's a long process.
The sticky collection of eggs start to hatch into little worms which Burt puts in an incubator. Maybe Burt is actually a breeder of these worms and intends to sell them on and he loves using Kurt for that purpose.
--
This season’s breeder worm arrives by overnight delivery, packed carefully in a sealed styrofoam case. It’s a little early, but once the worm is ready to nest, Burt’s supplier doesn’t call to consult his host’s high school schedule. The worm just gets packed in dry ice and flown to Burt’s door as quickly as possible.
Breeder worms cost a small fortune, but just like the past four summers, Burt plans to make back his investment plus a hefty profit. Kurt is a model host; young, healthy, responsive. There are few hosts in the mid-east that produce the consistent high-quality that Kurt can.
As Burt’s reputation grew for breeding only the thickest, most energetic worms, he’d been able to sell the last two crops sight-unseen. Before the eggs had even hatched he’d had buyers lined up, deposits paid, and even a waiting list for a possible second harvest.
Burt cuts the tape seal around the lid of the case with a flick of his pocket knife. A cascade of mist spills out and over the kitchen table as he carefully lifts the lid. He just wants a peek; the worm will need to stay on ice until he has Kurt prepared.
The translucent white of the worm is just barely visible through the layers of medical-grade plastic sheeting that envelops it. It looks like a good breeder so far; thick in the middle, both ends tapering flat and blunt like a squid tentacle. Whole and unblemished, as far as Burt can tell. Should make for a promising crop.
The worm is still and unmoving, distorted by the plastic sheeting, but just its presence here in his kitchen has Burt stiffening in his overalls. The worm will keep until Kurt gets home from school, it’ll have to for Burt to make the final preparations in the basement, but Burt might need to rub one out like a goddamn teenager just so he can function.
--
Burt feels mildly guilty each time he has to ambush his son. It’s a means to an end though, and an end where Kurt is happiest, despite his protests and arguments against disappearing off his little social grid for two weeks.
When he was younger it was harder for him to accept the soft restraints necessary to keep him prone and ripe for hosting the worm. But as he went tripping into puberty, he submitted more easily, likely due to his anxious teenage libido welcoming the two-week stimulation marathon.
Never the less, Burt has a tiny window to get the worm into Kurt. To avoid any time wasted by Kurt’s negotiating, Burt sedates Kurt as soon as he walks in the door, a pelotalon-soaked washcloth held to his mouth and nose.
He carries Kurt downstairs cradled in his arms. At 15 Kurt is still a slip of a kid, so tiny when Burt catches their reflections side-by-side. His hair smells like apples and flowers under Burt’s chin, and Burt’s heart trips as he lays Kurt down, revealing himself to be even tinier under his multitude of scarves and sweaters.
His son is heartbreakingly beautiful, naked but for the sheepshear and leather restraints that Burt gently buckles around his upper arms, around his slim, soft thighs. The straps of the restraints run off the bed, securing Kurt to the clean sheets, but still giving him a little room to adjust without agitating the worm. Burt will turn and rearrange him often during the gestation period, but for the insertion he has Kurt’s legs up and wide, his little ass tipped up and supported by a special padded block.
“Just perfect,” Burt mutters to himself, rolling his stool to the foot of the bed and running his hands lightly down the back of Kurt’s thighs, pulling Kurt’s ass cheeks even further apart. His little hole is a rosier pink than the flawless skin of his thighs and ass, puckered and neat, perfect. As if Kurt would let his body settle for anything less than perfection.
Burt’s mouth waters, knowing that the pucker will be gorgeously stretched and swollen and red and gaping by the end of the egg expulsion. Photos. This year he should take photos.
Burt pulls the little cart with his supplies closer, beside Kurt’s dangling right foot with its little pink toes, relaxed in sleep. Soft cloths, wet and dry. Lubricant. A clean speculum. Latex gloves, though he likely won’t use them. His son is clean and sleek and Burt has been waiting nearly a year to touch him again, to feel the smooth, hot channel of his little anus. Stretch it and rub it with his fingers. Make Kurt slick and ready for the worm, rousing and whimpering while he’s plugged by his father’s bare hand.
The snick of the lube cap is what has Kurt’s eyes fluttering open, blinking in the dim light. Burt keeps the basement dark during the hosting, to keep Kurt calm and docile while the worm wriggles and grows within him. Just a single swivel lamp that he has trained between Kurt’s legs, so Burt has plenty of light for inspections, so he doesn’t accidentally hurt his son, so he doesn’t miss a single beautiful detail.
“What...Dad?” Kurt croaks, and the leather of the restraint system creaks.