But it wasn't the eggs that made Sol's skin crawl, it was what had hatched from them.
Sol could literally see the dark, curled-up shapes of the larval ants twitching and developing inside the fluid.
Writhing blindly over the egg clutches were thousands of pale, fleshy grubs. They were horrific, pale, segmented worms, also known as larvae, each the size of a large dog, possessing no legs, only a massive, gaping circular maw lined with tiny, hooked teeth.
They lacked the hard chitin and legs of the adults, consisting only of a blindly thrashing, bloated body and a horrifying, circular mouth filled with rasping, needle-like teeth.
They writhed blindly over one another in a massive, wriggling pile, emitting high-pitched, wet squeals that set Sol's teeth on edge.
Gods above, Sol thought, a wave of profound revulsion washing over him. I am never, ever complaining about spiders in my bathroom again.
Scuttle-scuttle.
