You carry the progeny of your colony in your back. You scout the outside of your home, looking for potential threats. You lay in the centre of the colony, being impregnated by two multi-gendered drones; exhausted, you begin to eat both impregnators. You have given your seeds to the colony; your consumed body is broken and irreparable, useful now only as a source of nutrients.
You feel the tentacles of the unborn children caressing your face, puncturing your skin and feeding on the blood-like liquid that oozes out. You see a predator's tracks; your optic nerves throb in pain when you eject clouds of poisonous spores as a protection measure against this menace to the colony. With your proboscis you penetrate the uncovered, pink, shivering flesh of the impregnators; you first drink their liquified reproductive organs. You scream and thrash about, confused with the sensation of being eaten and seeing yourself being eaten.
You slap the tentacle away; it does not surprise you when you feel the pain yourself; the unborn is hatching and becoming a part of the colony's mind. You hear movement behind you and look at the approaching predator. Your meal is interrupted by the news of a threat; you recoil your proboscis and stare in its direction. Your death throes are interrupted by the whole colony turning its attention to a nearby predator; you do not feel any pain, only apprehension.
You are running. You are running. You stare, hearing the commotion around you, but you cannot move. You climb over the progenitor, trembling, protecting it to protect the colony.
You see yourself being struck down by the predator. You fall to the ground and see yourself seeing yourself being disembowelled. You are a legion of beings, falling on the enemy with blind rage.