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Sif pressed her lips together, felt her nostrils flare out in a slow, deep inhalation of breath, wrenched her eyes shut, covered her mouth with a paw to stifle the incoming grunts of effort, and bore down once again, as hard as she could. She pushed until her head started swimming and her pulse rushed in her ears, her shoulders tensing up, her back arching – and then with a barely suppressed woosh sighing that breath back out, the dragon relaxed in her seat here in the lecture hall, the ongoing drone of the professor’s voice slowly thrumming back into words as the blood flooded back out of her head.

Why here? she thought for what had to be the tenth time across the past fifteen minutes. Why – now? I thought I’d planned it out all properly. Of course I’d felt this thing growing, and I have everything back in my dorm ready for it, but…

...the roughly head-sized egg now wedged about halfway out of her body wanted to make its way out now. Or, really, it had wanted to make its way out at the start of those fifteen minutes, with the first familiar convulsions and contractions echoing through Sif’s body where she sat near the back and off to one side of the lecture hall. A cold, urgent sweat had begun trickling across the dragon’s smooth skin, and as nonchalantly as she could manage, she had scooted off towards the side of her seat, slid her open bag underneath that protruding leg, and shifted to wiggle her panties to the side beneath the skirt she wore today, which thankfully hung down far enough to nearly brush the top of her bag.

Please, please, please, she begged whichever entity would be gracious enough to listen, let this go through without a hitch… She could imagine it now, the straining and pushing turning to that sudden smooth, sleek relief past the halfway point, with the massive, hefty egg slopping free and bumping down into her bag without any of the other students noticing, so that she could then finish up the lecture and head back to her dorm to get everything else taken care of.

Heart pounding, womb sizzling warm from the sensation of holding the egg so long, sex stretched and pulsing with the maintained pull, hormones flooding throughout her system to ease the process along, Sif licked her lips, shifted in her seat again, and then carefully started to push again. She felt her belly flatten out with the effort, muscles squeezing inwards and wedging down against the solid mass from behind; her long, thick tail curled around the back of her seat twitched nervously, the free tip flicking; again the lights through her closed eyelids started to dim, and that rushing noise in her ears resumed again. Bit by bit the heat sizzled out between her legs, her lower body angled off to the side and down towards the mouth of her bag, the sticky, slimy wet slickness of her body’s natural lubrication dripping down her bared thighs, and surely smearing across some of her textbooks and homework.

Normally when this happened she was cozy back in her dorm, towels spread out underneath her, legs lifted up to her chest and head back, working in turn with the rhythmic contractions – but here in the middle of her class period, surrounded by other students, she had no choice but to strain out of rhythm and try to squeeze it out now.

Where it was now, still not quite halfway pushed out of her, she could pause and relax to catch her breath and still the smooth, silken surface would remain stuck in place. Sif could feel the stretch pushing out at her thighs from in between, keeping her legs from being able to clamp fully shut; her broad tail remained hiked at the base from the exertion, nerves constantly firing, muscles ceaselessly tingling; it’s a good fucking thing I pissed after last period, she thought, or else I’d be fucking soaked...

Every time Sif shifted in her seat she could feel the meat of her guts shift and squelch around the shape of the thing: she often enjoyed filming herself when she had to do this, and afterwards would marvel at the way her tailhole would stretch out and flatten, how her sex would deform from inside and pull around the evacuating mass, how all of the overlapping wrinkles would bulge up and smooth out, all stretching and slurping and sliding across the smooth surface – and in her seat now when she scooted side to side she could still feel the egg, caught right behind its tipping point, waiting to come out alongside her ongoing pushes.

I don’t think there’s… any way I can avoid… The dragon leaned over to the side, deliberately avoiding looking around herself, and tugged her bag back a little bit further while pretending to leaf through some of her papers. Many of them stuck together, glued in place with the ongoing slick dribbles oozing out from inside of her, her body naturally lubricating the egg’s release. God. Fuck. Why here? Why NOW? Why…

Something inside of her, something right there at the rim of her tensing muscles, her clenching walls, her squeezing nerves, made a small twitch and shift – and suddenly Sif straightened up, her back reflexively straightening and bending forward against that change from inside. It’s coming, her body told her, rather than her mind forming the coherent thought: it’s coming, right now, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. It’s coming and – it-

-_moved, slid, slurped… _shlicked its way out, the smooth, rounded taper of the egg’s surface wedging through, hitting that tipping point, and then squeezing free, the dragon’s muscles turning from pushing to clenching. Yet again Sif pressed her paw to her muzzle, her jaw clenched and eyes tightly shut, the deep, rumbling groan within her chest quickly giving way to a smoother, higher moan of relief and pleasure. Her entire abdomen tingled with the sweet, delightful relief of the release, stretched sex slurping back into place, tailhole winking, flexing, clenching.

Heart pounding, head swimming again, Sif sighed, swallowed, and straightened up, finally taking a moment to wipe her paw across her mouth, fix her hair, and then just as nonchalantly slip her panties back up into place, not even bothering to wipe off the dripping, gooey sludge that had also made its way out of her, easing the egg along. A quick glance around her classmates showed that only a few of them had noticed anything, with them looking away as soon as her gaze fell across them; hormones still swirling, nerves still tingling, now all of that nervousness and anxiety gave way to the downhill of adrenaline and sweet, tingling enjoyment and relief: I made it. I did it.

Sif leaned much more openly over towards her bag again, this time stuffing the slick, slimy body-warm egg a little bit further down. God. Fuckin’ damn…

Pulse slowly settling down, Sif sat back in her seat, took a few moments to catch her breath, and then finally reached for her pen to continue focusing in on the lecture. At least the professor didn’t notice… Her gaze slid off to the side, a few desks down, where she knew her crush usually sat. From here she could see his paws, his shoulders, and his tail swishing around – and then the person sitting in between them sat back, stretching his arms over his head-

-and Sif’s crush glanced up from her bag, to her face, then back down to her bag again, and then finally realized she was looking at him, and jerked to face forward again. Her heart skipped another beat.

...Oh.