Unexpected Eggnancy
Standing before the terminal, Peterson took in a deep breath, let it out, and scowled when the inside of his mask fogged up.
"CausDek crap," he murmured.
Reflexively, he reached up to wipe it away, but of course his gloved hand could do nothing from the outside. Hoping that the tight plastic suit would be helpful on the inside, he tapped the terminal's screen.
"Requesting access," he said.
"Waiting, waiting," the screen replied in a grinding, mechanical voice, flashing the same words.
Peterson snorted at the redundancy. He folded his arms across his chest and waited...and waited...
And waited...
"Come on," he murmured. "Computer, did he report an abnormality?"
"Negative," the screen sputtered. "Waiting, waiting..."
Peterson's scowl reappeared. What was taking so long? No one ever wanted to stay in the dimensional disarray, at least not in the untold miles of mangled industrial deathtraps and anomalies torn from other realities not cleared by CausDek. The path ahead of him should be safe.
At this thought, the screen flickered, and a video feed of a similarly suited man appeared. Peterson squinted at the other man.
"About time," he said. "Are you Morel?"
"That's what they call me," Morel said.
Peterson kept his scowl. "What took you so long?"
"Oh." Morel shrugged and looked over his shoulder momentarily. "Just got a little involved in here. There's some...fascinating stuff. I'm sure you'll have fun."
"Hmm," Peterson grunted, eyeing the screen warily. "You went overtime. What's the real reason for that?"
"Oh, come off it. I don't report to you. You're just like me."
"Computer," Peterson said calmly. "Any abnormalities about subject Morel?"
"Seal intact," the screen said. "Physiologically intact. No foreign substances detected."
"See?" Morel said. "Listen to the computer. Nothing's wrong here. It's just, well..." He smiled and shrugged apologetically. "The science got to me. Be glad you're on shift now. Next cycle, CausDek will clean this place out. Learn what you can and make what you can is what I say."
"Aright," Peterson said with a nod.
"Alright? Does that mean I can leave?"
"Computer, initiate changeover."
"Affirmative."
The thick metal door next to the terminal groaned and slid open, after some shuddering noises that made Peterson shiver. When it had come completely open, Peterson saw Morel standing on the other side next to his own terminal.
"Phew," Morel said, moving towards the opening. "Thought I was going to go over-overtime."
"Mhmm," Peterson said, folding his arms across his chest. He nodded towards the inside. "Anything I should know about this place?"
"Well..." Beneath his mask, Morel smiled. "I won't ruin the scientific surprises. Don't be shocked if you end up going overtime too. Not much disarray, but dimensional leakage..." he nodded. "Fun stuff. Just...mind the eggs."
Peterson frowned. "Eggs?"
"Yeah," Morel laughed. "Nothing alive or incubating, but I wouldn't want you to get some yolk all over that nice suit of yours. Deep cleans are a bitch."
"I see."
Morel stepped forward and Peterson stiffened, still a little uneasy.
"What?" Morel asked. "You new to this?"
Peterson shook his head. This was hardly his first entry, and maybe that's why he found himself not quite trusting the other man.
"Then what's the problem? Thought this was a changeover. Aren't you coming in, and I'm coming out?"
Peterson sighed. "Right."
Peterson walked towards the terminal on the other side, and Morel passed him to do likewise. At the terminal, Peterson tapped the screen.
"Outside in," he said.
"Inside out," he heard Morel say and the metal door groaned, closing shut with a thud. Peterson couldn't help but shiver again. He looked back to the terminal and saw the feed showed Morel.
"Alright," Morel said, waving. "See--"
The screen went black. Peterson tapped it but nothing happened.
"Computer," he said. "What the hell happened?"
"Minor malfunction," the screen screeched. "Self repair in 27 minutes."
"Is he gone?"
"Uncertain. Will know in 26 minutes, 53 seconds."
"CausDek crap," Peterson muttered, turning away from the screen and towards what lay before him. Though he did have concern about what just happened, his inquiring intellect was more interested in what was in this place. No one went overtime when they were bored, because it was impossible to lose track of time in the absence of interest. He considered coming back in the time between now and the computer repair, but he made no promise to himself, especially since the other scientist's words made him so eager to explore.
Peterson looked about, and his current position was a typical layout for the facilities that had been overtaken by the dimensional disarray, and remained unchanged in organization and structure. He was in a room filled with various workstations laden with dusty equipment and a few sheets of notes here and there. That is, it was mostly uninteresting, lacking any of the advanced effects of the dimensional disarray save that it had been abandoned. He walked by one table and looked down at some notes held by a clipboard. He quickly scanned its contents and then pushed it away with a shake of his head. Of course there would be nothing of interest here so close to where shifts switched out. He would have to dig deeper and take one of the five doors leading out of this one like Morel had. He turned back to the terminal.
"Computer," he said. "Time left in shift?"
"Five hours, 57 mins."
He nodded and puzzled over which door to take, looking over them one by one and finding them very similar, until he saw something shining softly out of the corner of his eye. He turned towards the source and saw the glowing was coming from the door furthest down.
"Computer," he called out, walking towards the slight ajar door. "Is there any radiation in this area?"
"Negative."
"How long has this area been open?"
"Six hours, five minutes."
Peterson froze just outside the door.
"I'm the second one on shift?"
"Affirmative."
Peterson felt something rise in him, and it wasn't fear. Instead, it was excitement. He chuckled at his own good luck and pushed the door open without hesitation. It opened with a creak and revealed a larger room than he had just left. Size wasn't the only difference, however, for while it had its own collection of laboratory instruments, they had not been abandoned so neatly as their ilk. Instead, the room was in disarray, with its overturned tables, notes scattered across the floor, and monitors with chipped or shattered screens, but more important were the objects of non-human origin, purple grasses that sprang from the floor, cracked shells of truly large eggs, and shining red orange pools of sticky looking liquid.
Peterson smiled at the sight, his eyes flickering from sight to sight before they ended up on what brought him here in the first place, a trail of brightly glowing yellow liquid that trailed from the door to the center of the room where purple grass had been bundled together into a high nest that sort of sunk into the floor, its contents hidden for the time being below and beneath. He looked away from the nest to the glowing yellow and then knelt down next to the source of the trail. He dipped a finger into the stuff, before bringing the luminous liquid up to his face.
"Huh," he murmured, digging into one of the packs by his side with his free hand. Feeling what he desired, he brought out a plastic package and stripped it of its covering, revealing a glow stick that contained the same yellow liquid as what lay on the floor. He frowned as he saw the similarities. It was puzzling. The liquid shouldn't be glowing unless it had recently been spilled, which either meant Morel had left this trail for him, or that this area had been hit by a dimensional disarray recently, so recently that it would have had to have happened on Morel's shift. Which meant what? Either he had indeed gotten very lucky or he was being played a fool?
He shook his head. He had to stop worrying so much. He was here for himself...and the science, of course. In fact, as his eyes caught sight of the purple grass nearby, he began to forget about Morel and the yellow liquid entirely. Instead, he set to work on taking samples of the stuff, holding it in his gloved hands, and wondering where it had come from. He followed the purple grass' growth around the room, wondering why in some areas it seemed to spring from the tiled ground, while in others it had failed to take root. As he did so, he unconsciously moved towards the center of the room, closer and closer to that nest of woven alien grass. He wouldn't have noticed had he not bumped into it.
Surprised, Peterson spun around and found himself standing in the yellow trail with the nest just right in front of him. It stood just slightly shorter than him, allowing him to place his hands on its edges and peer down below. Inside the nest were fractured eggs and a syrupy reddish orange liquid that clung to the strands of grass and pooled at the bottom amongst many other cracked eggs. The scientist would have turned away and looked for more accessible eggs had his eyes not caught sight of something poking out between two strands of woven grass so near him. It was a small black box, and on the end sticking out was the word "CausDek." His breath caught in his throat. A black box, here? It wasn't so crazy to find one so close to the disarray, but there was luck and, though Peterson wasn't religious, there was fate too. Whatever the case, he had to have the black box. Not only would it be worth a fortune to the corporation, but there had to be some interesting information on it as well, especially if it was related to the disarray.
He reached for it and strained to touch it even with the tips of his fingers. He tried again and only succeeded in pushing its edge away from his grasp. Now scowling, he gingerly stood on his tiptoes and leaned over, wincing as he stretched his arm further and further, until he had it!
Or so he did for a second. It slipped out of his grasp and he snarled, leaning over to make another desperate grab. He succeeded only in losing his balance, sending him stumbling over the edge of the wide nest. He yelped and tried to catch himself, but his seeking hand caught onto an egg shell sticking out of the strands instead. Hearing a rip and wincing as the egg scraped against his hand, he pulled it away and began to uncontrollably roll down the inside of the nest. He flailed about and tried to stop his descent again, but only succeeded in earning more minor tears in his suit. He cursed and cursed again as he careened right into a rather jagged egg that tore his suit right down the middle. Now nearing the bottom, his eyes widened once he saw the red orange pool that lay below. He fell into it with a splash and immediately sat up. He yelled, his hands worked to clear his visor of the sticky red orange liquid as he felt some of the stuff sticking to his skin. With his visor now clear, he tried to wipe it away with his hands, realizing all too late what a bad idea that had been when the liquid clung to his exposed hand. He shook his hands off and began to breathe consciously in his nose and out of his mouth as he got to his feet, the liquid miring him up to his ankles. He lifted one foot and it came out with a little effort. He placed it out of the pool and then did the same with the other, shivering as he felt the liquid soak into his skin.
Now that both feet were free, he scrambled out of the nest, his adrenaline carrying him up and over its edge. He landed on bare floor and noticed some of the liquid still clung to his boots. However, he was far more concerned about the torn front of his suit and his ruined glove. He shook the tattered glove off and stared with unease and disgust at the yellowish yoak seeping down his hand. He shook it off as best he could and flinched as he heard it splatter onto the nest and sticky liquid below him. He would have continued staring at his hand had he not felt a strange heat in his chest that made him pant and fear that he had been injured. He began to strip the top off the plastic suit, panting and panicking until he heard a gurgle. He froze, thought better of it, and looked around. Then he heard it again, coming from close by. He stumbled away from the nest and reached for the knife in his pack. He took it out and shifted into a defensive stance. He had heard of what creatures came of the dimensional disarray and he doubted his small blade would do much good. Then the gurgling sounded again and he realized it was coming from him, especially when his stomach started to pain. He winced, the pain so intense that he dropped the knife before bending over double, eyes closed and clutching at his stomach with both hands as it gurgled and swelled. He groaned as his expanding stomach pushed his hands away from each other, only opening his eyes when his uncovered hand felt a vaguely oblong shape pressing out from his stomach.
Blinking away discomfort, Peterson stumbled further away from the nest and searched around the room for such a shape. He found it within a few seconds, a trio of mostly intact eggs clustered near him that were in fact oblong shaped.
"Hell no..." he muttered and looked down to his stomach. It had a definite swell to it, and it wasn't because he had suddenly put on a few pounds. Well, he had, but the weight certainly wasn't fat. His eyes went back to the eggs. He snarled and kicked out of them, feeling some satisfaction as they flew up in the air and shattered against an overturned table. Afterwards he winced, doubling over again as his stomach swelled slightly larger so that it was beginning to feel constrained by his clothing. Taking his hands away from his stomach, he tugged at the bottom of his plastic top and managed to pull it out of his pants. He had only momentarily relief, for he felt more shapes moving within his stomach, and he certainly felt their weight down below. It was painful, but he had to fight through the pain, he had to get out of here.
He turned away from the nest and found himself staring at the glowing path out of the door. He followed, each step more uncomfortable than the last as he felt the...the eggs shift around in his stomach...no, not his stomach, it was his--what? His proto womb? Why did he have one anyway? He stopped and lifted his head back, laughing hysterically for a few moments before he realized what he was doing. He shook his head and looked down at his stomach. There was no doubt in his mind that he was pregnant, or at least gravid with eggs thanks to contact with the liquid. Had it been yolk? He shivered and pushed the thought from his mind, just as he might push an egg from his--
No! He shook his head and continued down the trail while doing his best to ignore how his stomach was so swollen it drooped out over the top of his pants, or how one of those oblong eggs had settled into position right over his urethra that not only made him want to piss but pained so much that he just wanted to squat down and lays the eggs like a proper--
"No," he said audibly this time, idly scratching at his exposed hand and sighing in relief. It felt so good that he could almost forget that was now carrying a clutch of eggs, but how could he forget that? Still, it felt right enough, especially once his skin slid off and the cool scales that had been waiting beneath breathed in the interior air.
He paused and stopped scratching, now near the door that had brought him here in the first place. He looked down at his exposed hand just as he scratched, eyes widening at the sight of skin shedding away, revealing shining cream colored scales no different than the ones near his wrist. Peterson shouted and lurched back, his hands held out in front of him away from each other. He immediately regretted the action, his stomach gurgling and jiggling and that one egg pressing painfully downwards. Worse was how his torso had begun to itch just like his exposed hand was.
Peterson gritted his teeth and stumbled through the door, finding himself back in the mundane, abandoned lab room without egg or exotic grass in sight. He walked towards the terminal, having to waddle slightly thanks to an even heavier stomach while also trying to ignore his greater discomfort, and the temptation to do away with his soaked shirt and scratch away the itchiness beneath. Worse was the fact that the itchiness had spread slightly, creeping up to his elbows and to just below his hips. Even worse, however, were the urges to squat down here and now and just start pushing so that the eggs would come out, but how? He didn't have the apparatus for it and he certainly didn't want to encourage the development of it.
Or did he?
He shook his head and took the last step towards the terminal. Though his mind felt solace at the sight of the screen, his body was more burdened than ever.
"C-computer," he huffed, resting his hands on his hips. "Emergency recall, code 73."
"Negative," the screen said. "Changeover required."
"No!" Peterson screamed. "No changeover! My shift isn't over yet!"
"Affirmative, labor in progress."
"Ha ha. I--urgh..."
Peterson doubled over and felt some relief as the eggs shifted around in his proto womb. Then the discomfort came again as not one, but two eggs pressed down on his nethers. He groaned and leaned forward, resting his exposed hand just below the screen. He glanced at it and saw there were more shiny scales than there had been before, and they had a pattern of red and orange bands in between the cream coloration. Even now, he watched some skin flake away while his thumbs and pinkie stubbornly stuck to their closest counterpart.
"Code 73," he repeated. "Get me help!"
"Contacted," the machine said. "Help will arrive in 5 hours, 22 minutes."
"Fuck that!" Peterson said. "I've got eggs inside me, eggs! I need help now?"
"Negative. You are fine. Slight swelling may be relieved by easing pressure on--"
"Easing pressure? They're inside me and these scales--"
"Scale of pressure is dependent on stance. In case of emergency birth, squatting is the preferred method to--"
"Oh for fuck's sake! I'm getting out of here, and you're helping me!"
"Negative. You are fine."
"You were just talking about giving birth!"
"You queried it."
Peterson slammed his hand against the screen and succeeded in shedding away only more skin. Sighing, he squeezed his legs together.
"Can I at least go to the bathroom?"
"Your suit is designed to--"
"Your suit's design is crap! CausDek crap! Couldn't even keep egg shells from...urghh..."
He clutched his belly with his covered hand, feeling another egg join the clutch. Though he was more burdened, it felt somehow satisfying knowing that his clutch and children would be plentiful.
"Walking on eggshells commonly refers to being careful to-"
"Shut up!" Peterson yelled, one hand in his helmet. "Just shut up! I've got to...got to..."
What did he have to do? Solve this, he knew, figure this out, which meant...what? It was so hard to think, so much pressure on not only his body but his mind, he needed relief.
Relief.
He turned away from the terminal and began to walk back towards the door. He clutched at his swollen belly in both hands while he thought of what to do. He was so full, so heavy, and he couldn't just wait this out. Somehow, he knew what he had to do. The source had started this and so would the source have answers.
Panting and huffing, he made it through the door again and followed the shining trail to the source, the woven nest and the liquid that lay within. Standing before it, he looked down at his belly and had no doubts about his status. He was positively pregnant, but without the means to carry out the term he feared might soon expire. He just had to have some relief, one egg, maybe two and he would be fine, he would be able to think rationally again, not about clutches or children, or motherhood for that matter.
He approached the nest and knew he did not want to crawl over into it. Instead, he waddled around the side until he came across a spot he could access the red orange liquid. Before he could carry out that plan, however, he first had to divest himself of his clothing. How else would he be able to make this easier?
Awkwardly, he sat down, and though his mostly scaled hand's fingers were mostly stuck together, he managed to take off his boots, then socks, and somehow wriggled his way out of his plastic pants and the ones that lay beneath. Afterwards, he removed his helmet, throwing it to the side and taking a deep breath of air that tasted fine. More than fine, really. It was almost sweet. Next, he removed his shirt, exposing his pale, swollen belly and the smattering of creamy scales spread over it, below it, and to his thighs. Finally, he forced himself to his feet with a great amount of effort and grunts, and with a little less effort, he tugged down his underwear down to his ankles. Shuffling awkwardly at first, he managed to step out of it.
Now that he was naked, Peterson was ready. He reached out between the tangles of the grass and scooped up some of the stuff in his still gloved hand. While some dripped between his fingers, most remained in his hand. He gripped the table with his scaly, shrunken hand and bent over. He brought the gloved hand to his thighs and then shuddered as his stomach swelled slightly larger with a liquid glorp. Two eggs pressing down below became three and he could take it no more. Without a moment more of hesitation, he slathered the stuff over his stomach before rubbing it at his thighs.
At first, he felt some relief as the liquid smoothly sank into him. However, much to Peterson's dismay, his stomach gurgled and swelled even larger. He bent his knees and sank lower, hissing in distress. He had to do something, so many eggs, so heavy...
He desperately rubbed the liquid up past his thighs to his crotch. Although his stomach continued to swell, his genitals began to diminish, his shaft shrinking away while his testicles pulled up tight against his crotch. Though this should have bothered him, his mind was on the eggs and the eggs only. There were so many of them now, and their weight was more real and pressing than some parts of him shrinking away that kept them in. In addition, the split second sensation of the liquid sinking into his skin was like a panacea to the weight of his form, making him feel momentarily ethereal, the eggs still there but not a detriment. If he felt that way all over, then he wouldn't have to feel at all.
Hastily, he scooped up more of the yolky liquid and applied more to his distended stomach. When that did nothing, he hissed and brought his hand further up, rubbing the liquid into his upper chest. Immediately he felt weightless, but it only lasted so long before the weight of the eggs in his still developing womb were all too real. While his genitals twitched and shrank closer to his crotch, he rubbed it all over his neck and sighed in relief when he reached his face, the reddish stuff slipping in between his hair right into his pores. Still, it wasn't enough, causing him to scoop up more and more of the goopy yolk, madly spreading the stuff over the rest of himself in order to stave off the painful weight.
It only helped for less than a minute, and when he came out of his weightless reverie, head staring forward, other sensations had crept upon him. He was itching all over now and what remained of his masculinity was pulling in painfully tight against his crotch. Awkwardly he shifted around, belly wobbling, and spread his legs. He let out a deep breath as some of the pressure on his crotch went away. Curious why that was, he looked down and saw that most of the hair on his crotch had fallen away, smooth cream colored scales having taken their place. More interesting was that his male genitals were nowhere in sight; instead, there was a start of a horizontal slit that even as he watched was developing wider and slightly curved. He blinked, shaking his head and feeling some hair fall away. He knew he should feel some sense of loss from no longer having his manhood, but there was only elation instead. What he had down below was what he needed to relieve the pressure. He just had to help it along...
He eased himself up on the table, hissing in pleasure as his skin rubbed against the surface, before falling away and leaving scales behind. With his gloved hand, he scratched against his stomach, and it felt surprisingly good, not only from the feeling of shedding more skin for scales but because of how big his stomach had become. It meant many eggs, many children, and that was good right? Why else would he be carrying these eggs?
Peterson scratched at the side of his head with his exposed hand, and noticed that not only was his ear missing, but his fingers had become locked up. He brought his hand away and held it in front of his face, seeing that five fingers had become three, and that most of the arm was now scaled. He tried to move his fingers, but they only wiggled weakly and even holding his arm up as he currently did taxed its waning strength. He shook his head and gasped as he felt his skull suddenly wrench forward. He fell forward, catching himself on the desk with his gloved hand, and his head ached horribly. The scientist wanted to scream, but could only hiss as his skull flattened while simultaneously stretching forward, shedding what remained of his skin in favor of scales banded in patterns of red and orange between greater expanses of cream coloration. His eyes screwed shut as they quite forcibly moved apart, and his mouth was forced open as it reshaped into a serpentine snout, his teeth falling out onto the floor while a set of fangs grew in. Inside his new reptilian muzzle, his tongue wiggled about, thinning and slimming and forking out at its end with a surprisingly pleasurable twinge. Peterson forced open his eyes and found that everything appeared different, appearing in shades of heat and not so much of hue. He tried turning his head just as his neck thickened and bulged, scales scattering over its surface, while a seemingly unseen force tugged forcefully at his spine. The scientist almost felt like he was on a rollercoaster as his neck stretched out, his field of vision moving beyond his control even as something tugged out just above his rear, a stretch of twitching, scaled flesh that pulled out and out and out. Somehow, he managed to turn his still lengthening neck around to see that it was a tail that was growing out just above his rear, thick and heavy, and banded by the same patterns as his skull. Not only could he see it, he could feel it flail about, and it had such strength. Such strength, and yet it had its toil, for his legs faltered and shook as the tail continued to grow.
For a moment, Peterson was able to remain upright. Then, his legs simply didn't have the strength, and he fell onto his knees. He hissed as his belly rubbed against the ground. So heavy, so many, and he needed relief now. It was no matter that his head was no longer human, or that he now had a thick tail that still strained with growth, or that as he looked down at his body, he saw more scales than skin--he needed to lay and soon. His gaze moved further down his body to the scaled slit that lay where his crotch was. It looked so tight, so unsuited for laying, but there must be something he could do. He hissed, his tongue flicking out and tasting the air as an idea sprang to mind.
His still gloved hand and legs shook as he pulled himself up onto the table, pressing his scaled crotch against the edge of its surface. While his tail tugged back and fought him in his growth, he vigorously grinded his cloaca against the table's edge. At first, there was nothing, only the sensation of the eggs weighing him down and his limbs weakening as his tail siphoned their strength, but then he felt a spark of something below. He increased his efforts, hissing in pleasure as his cloaca began to open slowly, ever so slowly, the passage between it and his egg chamber beginning to burrow its way into existence, digging inch by inch as his slit opened bit by bit. Despite the pleasure, Peterson was more maddened by how long it was taking, putting all his energy into getting it wider and wider, while his butt cheeks closed off and his rear merged with the rest of his tail. He shrugged his shoulders, shivering as the last of his skin shed away, and the rest of his body began to streamline into a sinuous shape not so unlike his tail. The scientist squirmed as an inner passage finally reached his egg chamber, so heavy and full, and yet his cloaca was still unready for letting anything through.
Desperately, he reached his exposed hand down and hissed in frustration when his arm could only reach to his stomach. He looked over to it, still grinding away, and saw that it was shorter now, shrunken and still shrinking, little more than a solid mass of scales that were returning to their source. Upon this realization, he glanced to his gloved hand just in time to see what remain of his hand slide out of his glove. With no more grip, he hissed, his cloaca getting one more good grind before he fell onto his side. He writhed on the ground, his arms and legs little more than stumps that were withdrawing into his body, their mass being repurposed into mass that would allow movement of his new form through slithering, not walking. No longer able to stimulate his slit, he hissed out his frustration, his complaints becoming quiet as he felt new movement within himself. His reptilian pupils dilated, and he twisted his rather lengthy neck around to stare at his full belly, so many oblong shapes pressing out against its scaled surface. There were so many, at least eight he could count bulging against his belly. He looked over them, then recoiled as something flickered in his face. He hissed and flicked his tongue out only to see that it had been the tip of his tail that had come so close to his serpentine visage. His tail was so long now, but its growth seemed to have stalled now that there was so little left of his arms and legs, so little left of him that was human.
Human? Yes, he was human despite all appearances, a scientist beneath the visage of a very pregnant, very large snake. Or was it the other way around? Was the scientist just some figment of this very egg laden snake? No, not that didn't make any sense, he was...she was--
The snake hissed as she felt that new movement again and recognized for what it was even as the smaller, scientific side of her puzzled over it. Of course she knew what that movement meant, and she hissed in delight at it even as she felt the first egg start to slide down her passage. It felt so good, so right, and even the scientist couldn't argue with that. In fact, the snake and scientist weren't so far apart in mindset, and why would they be? They were...she was...
She was thinking too much. She was to be a new mother; there was no reason to think through that when the instincts were there. They told her how to move, how to position herself, how to let the eggs lay, and that was much easier than worrying about shifts in form or the integrity of her mind, whatever that meant. Instincts were easier, instincts were what animals like her knew, instincts were what she was going to rely on. After all, the first egg was coming, and it certainly wouldn't be the last...
The snake hissed and slithered away from the table and towards the nest. She hardly cared why it was there or who had made it, only grateful that it was there for her. Weighed down by her eggs, with some effort she slithered over its slope, the remnants of her alien appendages absorbed into her as as she moved down to the center. The lack of limbs was oddly freeing, but why had she needed them anyhow? She had a tail and sturdy scales to slither around on. It was all she needed along with the eggs.
She slid around the reddish orange pool, especially careful to slick up her cloaca. Then she slithered into a comfortable laying position and began to push. The egg slid down her slick passage easily enough, and even having one less egg in her swollen stomach brought her so much relief and satisfaction. She hissed and flicked her tongue out, eyes totally focused on tracking the egg's travel down her lengthy body. She shook as it came so close to its exit, and as she shook she rubbed against something. She twisted her head and saw a black box poking uncomfortably against her form. She nudged it away and returned her attention back to her flaring slit.
Just as the egg crested her cloaca, the scientist returned at the forefront of her mind. She hissed in annoyance as so many complex thoughts filtered through what should be a simple mind. There was so much discomfort and anxiety she just didn't have time for when she had a full belly to lay today. She snarled and pushed back against those thoughts just as she pushed the egg farther out of her, and they both moved away. She pushed again, and those alien thoughts faltered. With another push, the egg plopped out and there was suddenly less pressure on both mind and body. She shuddered and shook, the egg rolling wetly down her form before resting quite close to her at the base of her nest. The snake had a second of supreme satisfaction, before she felt another egg make its way out of her still full womb and down her passage.
The human thoughts resurfaced again, but they were weaker this time and easier to silence as she concentrated on pushing, moving that part of her clutch, her child out of her and to the world it would hatch in. The second egg came out without a hitch, leaving her cloaca wide and ready, and her body seemed to notice, for not one, but two eggs dropped down the path out of her. She relished the challenge and as the thoughts resurfaced, they were different, more similar to her own. As her third and fourth egg traveled so closely together, the pain of their mutual journey only eclipsed by the pleasure of having less and less in her swollen stomach, those alien thoughts became less alien. They wanted to relieve the pressure just as much as she did and be rid of the eggs that kept her from speedy slithering, just as much as they wanted to be rid of the pressure of fear and uncertainty, and there was certainly less and less of that now. Though her current situation wasn't quite so comfortable, she certainly was becoming more and more comfortable with it, the third and fourth egg leaving within a minute of each other and the fifth and sixth soon on the way. What she was doing was natural for her form, natural for her function as a broodmother, natural for it is what she was meant to do. It only made sense. After all, eggs and such a serpentine shape did not just materialize out of nowhere.
So, the snake continued to lay, pressing out egg after egg and stretching her cloaca wider and wider while culling what remained of her humanity. There was just no room for such thoughts, not when she still had a bellyful of eggs and soon a belly's worth of a clutch, or, as it turned out, quite a bit more, for as the snake laid, it seemed that more oblong eggs formed in her womb, though thankfully slower than she was pushing them out. By the time she had made through a little more than two dozen eggs, she was exhausted, but no more eggs had moved on their way down and out. It seemed she was done for now, so she curled around her clutch and sank swiftly into sleep.
The snake awoke some time later to the sound of a rusted rumble. She lifted her head, nuzzling her eggs, before slowly slithering out of nest and flicking out her tongue. She tasted something on the air that seemed familiar, but something in the back of her mind told her she hadn't smelled that scent this way before. Though curious, she stuck by the nest and peered towards a door as she heard someone shuffling. She flicked out her tongue, taking in that scent again just as the source appeared in the door frame. She saw it for a split second, some bipedal creature covered in something that did little to hide its vibrant heat signatures. It turned its head, and she slithered back behind the overturned table just in time to avoid its gaze. Still, she heard it come towards her, saying something as it neared her. She meant to slip away, but then she felt her cloaca contract and an egg fall into her slickening package. She hissed and shuddered, reflexively slithering back towards the nest, exposing herself and coming into contact with something else.
She looked down at discarded clothes that seemed so familiar and then to the similar suited man standing by so close to her. She hissed at him, lifting her head high and showing her fangs while doing her best to hide her vulnerable egg laden stomach and the contractions that even now ran through her body. Beneath his mask, the man's eyes widened and he ran. Instincts drove the snake to pursue him, but something held her back as she watched him run. He didn't get far, a few steps or so before he ran over the edge of puddle of reddish orange liquid. He yelled and fell, splattering himself with the stuff as he flailed around in it. The snake let out an amused hiss and watched as the man tore away his gear, screaming something she had heard before but now had lost meaning. She watched him just long enough to see him yell again as he clutched at an expanding stomach, before she turned her attention back to herself and the egg that had just started to poke out of her cloaca. She hissed and set to laying even as the man so near to her began his own unexpected pregnancy.