Atlas

The first thing you become aware of is that you're fucking starving. You groan, now registering the way your whole body aches. Every part of you hurts, from your back and shoulders down to your hips and stomach muscles. Your eyelids flutter open to blindingly bright sunlight; you squeeze your eyes shut again.

What the hell? Had you forgotten to close the curtain in your bedroom last ni—?

And that's when you remember.

Last night, your stomach had been swollen and distended.

Last night, you'd experienced the most agonising pain of your life.

Last night, you'd come harder than you'd ever thought was possible. And that had only been the first time.

Last night, you laid an egg.

You force your eyes open again, searching the kitchen, a sudden terror seizing your chest. What if your precious egg was gone, what if someone had taken it while you slept? You had to—

A shaky breath escapes you as you catch sight of a shimmering green shape by your feet. The egg is even more beautiful in the day time, the light glinting off the ridged shell and reflecting off the white tile.

You're not really in any condition to fuck your egg again. With the way you're feeling, you'll probably pass out from low blood sugar and break your neck or, worse, hurt the egg. If you're going to do this—and really, that same sensible voice says, there's no if—you need to be smart about it.

So rather than giving into temptation, you curl your fingers into your palms and scoot away from the egg for now. Instead, you try to get to your feet, something that should have been easy enough. But your legs feel like those of a newborn giraffe, and you have to lock your knees and hold onto the counter to keep from face-planting back onto the tile.

You let out an unsteady, slightly disbelieving laugh. God, how had this become your life? Not that you're complaining; you just need to be a little more careful for the time being. You round the counter to get as close to the fridge as you can. Then, with a deep breath like you're about to take a leap off a very high ledge, you push off the counter and practically throw yourself at the fridge.

Honestly, you're beginning to feel a little silly. You let out a giggle before opening the fridge and peeking in.

Milk.

As soon as your eyes land on the carton, you're dying for it. You snatch it up and toss the lid aside carelessly, bringing it up to your lips and gulping it down. The cold is heavenly on your raw throat; you keep chugging it down until the carton is empty.

Fuck, had milk ever tasted so good? You don't think so. Continuing to rummage through the fridge, you chomp on anything that comes to hand, focusing on things that don't require any prep. Two apples, a raw carrot, a pear, you munch your way through them until finally your legs are steady beneath you again.

You finally feel like you can trust yourself near your egg. Walking over to it, you kneel down on the tile. That same reverence from before washes over you as you gently scoop the egg up.

It's strangely cool beneath your fingertips, and you wonder if that's because it's been sitting on the floor for hours. Even more pressing, you wonder what's inside it. Surely it'll have to hatch at some point, right? And just what the hell had even laid the egg inside you and how? The sensible part of you isn't sure you want to know.

The filthy slut who'd fucked herself on an unknown creature's egg last night is kinda dying to find out.

-0-0-0-

Freshly showered, you feel as though you're finally approaching normal. You stretch before towel drying your hair, and it feels like any other Tuesday morning. Just you in your quaint little house, naked and alone but for the massive egg placed carefully in the middle of your bed.

It had taken all of your self-control not to touch yourself in the shower. You wanted the next time you came—hell, every time you came—to be on your egg. You know without checking, though, that your cunt was utterly soaked. But while you'd avoided your still sensitive pussy, you had taken the time to examine the rest of your body.

Something that earth-shattering had to have left its mark, right?

It's probably your imagination—almost certainly—but you'd swear that your hips look a little wider, your tits a little fuller. But surely that can't be possible.

"About as likely as waking up one day with a massive egg in your belly," you mutter to yourself.

So, could your body have possibly changed after the events of last night? It's a definite… maybe.

But enough thinking for now. With every step that brings you closer to your egg, the butterflies in your tummy grow stronger. The anticipation is delicious, but you've never been a patient person.

Desire is thrumming through you, so much so that you can feel your hands trembling. You drop your towel carelessly on the floor as you approach the bed. The egg is so beautiful that it makes your breath catch. A fragment of memory from last night freezes you in place.

You wish you could see what your pussy looks like as the egg emerges.

Everything had happened so quickly last night, there would've been no way you'd have been able to watch. But tonight… you know what to expect, more or less. You can prepare.

If you do this right, last night could have just been the warm up.

It takes a few minutes—long enough that you almost give up and leave it for next time—but you manage to move your dressing table so that it's only a few inches from your bed. Beyond impatient now, you sweep your arm along its surface, sending make up and brushes and perfume bottles to the carpeted floor.

Nothing is going to impede your view tonight.

Within moments, you're finally kneeling over your egg. You take a moment to run your fingertips over the shell. While the base of the egg is the diameter of a cantaloupe, the tip is about three fingers wide. But with it lying longways on the pillow, there's no way it'll fit inside you. And… well, you're kinda intrigued by those ridges along its surface. And you can't help but wonder what it'd feel like to hump that gorgeous, iridescent shell until it's entire surface is slick with your juices.

After all, it serves a practical purpose, you reason. You're definitely going to need some kind of lubrication if you're to have any hope of getting your egg back inside you.

Biting your lip between your teeth, you cautiously lower yourself onto the egg. The shell is cool against your warmth, making you inhale sharply. You settle your weight onto it, and already the pleasure is enough to make you groan. Your clit is throbbing, your cunt overheated, and the coolness of your egg is a heady contrast.

Common sense heeds you to take it slow. The last thing you want is to crack the gorgeous shell. You ignore the voice of reason this time. Somehow, you're sure that the egg won't break. It belongs inside your body, and it will hold until it gets there.

You grind down.

Fuck, it's perfect. It takes you no time at all to build a rhythm, slipping and sliding along the ridges and relishing in the way they feel against your clit. Your eyes are fastened on the mirror in front of you; the little whore reflected there is gorgeous, eyes fever bright and skin flushed.

And there, between your thighs, is your egg.

Want burns through you, hot and bright, and you fuck down against it harder. You're driven by instinct now, relentlessly chasing the pleasure you know is waiting for you.

Faster, move faster.

Harsh, hungry little sounds escape your throat as you strain for your orgasm. It rushes through you like a freight train and makes your vision go dark. You gasp for air; it's almost impossible for you to stay upright.

Even through the aftershocks, you can't help the way you wriggle against your egg, smearing your wetness all over its surface. But now you face a terrible dilemma: do you keep riding the egg, or do you now try to get it back inside you?

A little more lube won't hurt, you decide.

It takes a little longer to cum this time. You have to grind down harder, working your hips as you slide along those perfect ridges. The extra effort is worth it, though. The orgasm seems to build from deep inside of you, right at your centre, before it engulfs your body like a mushroom cloud.

"Uh uh uh."

These little sounds spill past your lips, utterly shameless, as you continue to watch yourself in the mirror. The green of the egg seems to deepen, almost glowing as your juices coat its surface.

Once again, you spare a moment to thank whatever deity had decided to bless you with this majestic egg. Slightly delirious, you vow to devote your life to whatever it is. You'll be their most loyal, devoted servant, using your body and your cum to worship it and your egg. It's the last coherent thought you have before you collapse back against the mattress behind you, your cunt gushing as the pleasure pulls you under.

-0-0-0-

Your eyelids flutter open. This time when you wake, there's no confusion. You know exactly where you are and what you've done.

And you're ready for round two.

Sitting up on your elbows, you look down at your egg, expecting to see it glinting softly in the room's dim light.

What you're not expecting is the creature sitting on the end of your bed.

Had it been any other day, the sight would have made you shriek in terror. But today, after the miracle of pleasure you'd experienced, you recognise the creature for exactly what it is.

This is your god.

Its body is large, about the size of a grown Labrador. The creature is a lovely shade of pink, so dark it's almost red at the base of its skull; the colour fades further down its body until the tip of its limbs is a beautiful sea shell pink. A single enormous eye stares at you unwaveringly, and you would swear that the creature can see right through you.

You want so desperately to hold that gaze, to prove yourself worthy, but you can't help being captivated by the sight of the creature's limbs.

By its tentacles. There are so many, some curled up around you, others hovering over the bed.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Instinct has served you well thus far. You have no idea if you'll be able to communicate with the creature at a later stage and, at that moment, you don't care. All you can think to do is meet that single eye and spread your legs as far as you can.

An unmistakable invitation. Your god—perfect and omniscient—takes it for what it is, and reaches towards you with its tentacles.

The first touch of those long limbs makes you gasp. They're cool, like the egg, and seem to be coated in some kind of secretion. Your eyes flutter shut, mouth dropping open in a loud gasp, as your skin begins to tingle everywhere the creature touches you.

It takes its time learning you. The creature feels the curve of your cheeks and the arch of your neck, tests the weight of your tits and teases your nipples with a feather light touch. But as good as that all feels, you can only concentrate on one thing.

A long, thick tentacle is approaching your cunt..

"Please," you gasp. "Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease."

The creature, most holy and divine, seems to understand your desperation. And it rewards you by thrusting the tentacle inside you with one hard push.

You wail as your pussy accepts the tentacle greedily, your wetness easing its way in. The sound the tentacle makes as it withdraws slightly before pressing in again is obscene, loud even over the sound of your whining. It's pressing in so deep now, impossibly deep, the tip of the tentacle touching your cervix. Whatever secretions that glaze the creature's skin are coating you now, inside and out.

Want unlike anything you've ever experience before has taken over you. You feel almost feral with lust, beginning to thrash on the bed in an effort to take the tentacle even deeper still, to force the creature to fuck you.

More tentacles surround you now, curling around your wrists and ankles in an unbreakable grip. And then, to your utter horror and dismay…

The tentacle inside you slowly withdraws, making your cunt slurp in protest.

"No, no, please, I'm… I'm sorry, I'll—"

It shoves that same tentacle into your mouth, all the way to the back of your throat, cutting you off with a gluck. The combined taste of your cunt and the creature's skin tips you over into an agony of bliss. Your scream as you orgasm is muffled; your vision whites out as your cunt clenches around empty air.

Supplication. That is what the creature is demanding from you. You will take everything that it gives you, no more and no less. And so you force your body to go lax. Sucking eagerly on the tentacle rather than fighting to get it back inside your pussy. Working only to spread your legs wider rather than to buck your hips at the creature in invitation.

Your god has given you so much pleasure already. More than a hundred lifetime's worth. It will give you what you need, if you're patient.

And so you wait, staring back at your god, hoping your adoration for the creature shines through.

A long moment passes. Where you'd been so impatient before, now you're content to wait for the creature to begin. The tentacle in your mouth is delicious, better than anything you've ever tasted. You're drooling around it the same way you can feel your cunt drooling in preparation for whatever comes next.

What comes next fills you with delight.

The creature has curled some of its tentacles around the egg and is bringing it up the bed towards you. Its intent is clear.

You whine, sucking hard at the tentacle in your mouth to signal your eagerness. Not that it would have mattered. The tip of the egg kisses your opening, blissfully cool against your heated core. That single eye is transfixed on your cunt as it slides the egg up and down your slit, gathering more of your wetness and smearing it across the shell.

And then the creature begins to press the egg further inside you. The initial stretch is divine, good and necessary and vital. You groan around the tentacle, wishing you could reach down to hold yourself open to it further. But ultimately, that isn't necessary.

Your body accepts the egg deeper and deeper, until the stretch becomes almost impossible to bear. You begin to shift restlessly, the pain a delicious counterpoint to the ecstasy of being filled. Every inch of the egg that slips inside you sends shards of pleasure piercing through you until you can scarcely breathe.

The egg has stretched you to your zenith, and it's barely halfway in. It seems to occur to the creature at the same time because it pauses. The devotee that's taken over your body is devastated at the possibility of displeasing your god, and you want to beg the creature to force the egg inside you, to make it fit.

A small eternity passes; it could only have been a few seconds. And then something miraculous happens, temporarily distracting you from the egg. The tentacle fucking your mouth… it swells before it begins releasing some kind fluid, pumping it directly down your throat.

You have no choice but to swallow. It's cool and slightly sweet, thick like honey and as smooth as the finest whiskey. Soon, you find yourself nursing on the tentacle, guzzling every drop you can and lamenting any that spill out of the corners of your mouth. You're lost in a haze of pleasure, your mind blissfully blank, when you feel it.

The egg, treasured manifestation of your god's love, is slipping further into you. Your cunt is stretching wide to accept it, hungrily pulling it back into your body. Somehow your hips are widening, the muscles of your cervix softening and relaxing to allow the egg passage. You're engulfed in a deep sense of satisfaction with every millimeter of the egg your body accepts.

It's unimaginable agony. You're going to burst.

It's ecstasy in its purest form. You want to stay suspended in this moment for the rest of your life.

By now, it's impossible to tell where one orgasm ends and the next one begins. You're limp and trembling. Your whole body is loose and relaxed, leaving you helpless to do anything but accept what the creature is giving you.

The ridges of the egg drag along the walls of your cunt as the creature continues to press it up inside you. You feel the exact moment the tip of the egg kisses the head of your cervix and you can't stop the muffled scream that tears itself free.

More. Fuck, you need more.

And yours is a loving god, because that's exactly what you get. The egg stretches out your cervix impossibly, making your stomach bulge. Dazed, you stare as the swelling moves beneath your skin. You watch as the egg presses in further, rounding your belly to where you seem even bigger than you were last night.

Divine conception taking place right before your eyes, right here in your bed.

You live in a pretty secluded part of town, near the woods. It's fine, you like the privacy. This way, if you want to walk around naked, there aren't any nosy neighbours close by to ogle you. It's great.

It's a warm spring day and you've decided to spread a blanket out in the back garden. You've dozed off in the sunshine more times than you can count, and you're looking forward to a well-earned nap after a difficult week. As you stretch out across the blanket and bask in the feel of the breeze caressing your face and bare skin, you could swear you hear a rustling in the woods. But before you can lift your head to check what it might be, exhaustion pulls you under into a deep sleep.

When you wake up, it's already getting dark.

Wow, you must've been more tired than you thought. You stretch and yawn and…

Something feels different. You push yourself up onto your elbows and your mouth immediately drops open as you catch sight of your midriff.

Holy. Fuck.

Even in the dark, you can see that your belly is swollen and distended. You look like you're about to burst.

No, this… this can't be real. This isn't real. You squeeze your eyes shut, convinced that when you open them again, your tummy will be back to its usual gently rounded state.

Only… it doesn't. You're as big now as when you woke up.

God, how are you even going to get up?

Cursing, you roll over onto your side and struggle to get your knees under you. It takes you a moment to lever yourself up, and you take a big breath as you heave yourself to your feet. You can't even see your toes past your enormous belly.

Just get into the house, you tell yourself. Maybe you can... call an ambulance? But what the hell would you even tell them? That you went to sleep and woke up eight months pregnant?

Fuck, what are you going to do? A fissure of panic runs down your spine, along with the ghost of a feeling you're trying very hard not to think about. Your hand moves instinctively to cradle your tummy, and it's blazing hot beneath your taut skin. Mind racing, you can't help but think back to the few other times you'd felt someone's pregnant belly. This didn't feel anything like those times.

Maybe it's an egg, you think hysterically. A short bark of laughter escapes you as you stagger off the lawn.

You've barely made it into the house when the first wave of cramps hits you. Your legs threaten to give way beneath you as you only just managing to stop yourself from falling over. Your whole body breaks out into a sweat, tickling between your breasts and down your back.

"Oh, fuck, fuck," you moan. You're in the kitchen now, scrabbling for the lights. As they flicker on and you get a look at your abdomen, you wish you'd kept them off. The tile feels blissfully cool against your feet and you don't think before you hunker down onto your hands and knees. You can't help but wonder what you look like, what someone else would see if they were to walk in there right now.

An unfortunate thrum of arousal races through you, despite the cramps wracking your body.

God, why is this happening? What the hell is going on?

Another cramp, this one stronger than the last, and you drop down onto your elbows, resting your forehead on the tiles.

I'm think I'm giving birth.

Impossible. You aren't even pregnant. But the… thing… inside you seems to be dropping. Through the agony, you try thinking back to your high school biology classes. As the cramps… contractions… get stronger, you realise that your cervix must be dilating. Your body is trying to expel the intruder.

Shivers wrack your body. Because beneath the pain, there's something else. Something delicious. The thing presses down lower between your hips and you can feel tendrils of pleasure snaking through you. Your cunt clenches around nothing, halting the thing's descent and inching it back up further and… fuck.

A loud moan echoes throughout the kitchen. It takes you a long moment to realise that it's you.

I just need to get it out. Just get it out, and I'll be fine.

The tiny sliver of your brain not occupied with the horror of what was happening was fascinated. What is it that's taken up residence inside of you?

Only one way to find out.

Once again, you think about the secluded part of town you live in, without any close neighbours. No one to intrude on your privacy.

No one to hear you scream.

You've never heard such a sound before. It's a strange mixture of incredible pain and indescribable ecstasy as you bear down on the thing, pushing with all your might. You can feel your body straining to accommodate something round and gently ridged. With the first stretching of your soaked cunt comes utter rapture. You wail as you automatically clench down again, once again forcing the thing further up inside you.

And on it goes, a seemingly endless cycle.

You push and strain and groan. Sweaty and exhausted, you somehow manage to maneuver yourself onto your back, your legs spread as wide as they can go. It's a struggle to reach down past your belly to your pussy, but you manage. And that's when you feel it.

Hard and round and slick, it can only be an enormous egg. Your mind struggles to comprehend the reality of what's happening. As you feel explore its surface with clumsy fingers, your fingers brush over your clit.

You cum.

The force of the orgasm takes you by surprise. It's a good thing you're on your back, or you'd have fallen onto your stomach. You're sobbing, gasping for air, as the orgasm works its way through you. It's almost enough to drown out the pain.

You don't know how long you lie there for. The egg is still lodged inside you, just kissing your opening. Weakly, you lift your hand again, wincing as your overheated skin sticks to the tiles.

With trembling fingers, you lightly touch your clit.

It feels so good, unbelievably good, but you don't cum again.

I'll have to work for it this time, you think, half delirious.

You drop your head back, barely feeling the way it thunks against the floor. Squeezing your eyes shut, you push down again, driven by instinct. The stretch of your pussy is unbearable; you're greedy for more of it. But with every inch of the egg your body expels, your clenching cunt drags it back in by millimeters.

The egg's effectively fucking you.

Impossibly, you cum again, even harder than before. You shriek, and the bliss overtakes any pain. For a small eternity, you're reduced to nothing more than a writhing ball of sopping wet ecstasy.

Everything goes black.

It could be minutes later, it could be hours. Your eyelids flutter open, and you stare blankly at the ceiling.

Had it all been a dream?

The thought has barely crossed your mind before you feel another contraction. It's a sharp, delicious agony. You become aware of the stretched out feeling of your cunt, impossibly wide, and a small pool of wetness beneath you. While you'd been unconscious, your body had been working to birth the egg. It takes you a long moment to lift your arm again to reach down between your legs.

You aren't sure what you'd been expecting. But it isn't this. The egg… it's ridged. The base—God, please, let that be the base—is huge, It's bigger than your whole hand, the size of a cantaloupe. For a moment, you can't breathe, wishing you could see what your cunt looks like, dying to see the stretch.

An utterly insane urge seizes you and you're thisclose to pushing the egg back in just so you can birth it again.

No, not yet.

The fact that it's still a possibility is a testament to how far gone you are. Rather than dwell on that, you struggle up onto your elbows to peer down at your belly. The swelling had moved down to your lower abdomen and between your hips while you'd been out. And fuck, you wish you could see what the egg looks like, almost as much as you wish you could see your pussy looks like as the egg emerges.

Well, not much you can do about seeing your cunt, not unless you do this in front of a mirror next time…

Next time?

Yeah, don't think about that now.

Instead, you concentrate on the egg. You give a huge, experimental push, testing out the sensations as they flood through you. It borders on too much, pushing you a hairsbreadth from orgasm. Your cunt spasms, hungrily reclaiming the bit of the egg that you'd managed to force out.

You shiver. That feels amazing. If you bear down harder, will it make you cum again the way you did before?

Something to look forward to, you think hazily.

This time, you push down almost gently, more of a constant pressure than a tremendous heave. A groan tears itself free from your throat now. You can feel the ridges of the egg dragging through your folds, one millimeter at a time as it slips from your cunt. It's so excruciatingly slow that the sensation makes your eyes roll back in your head.

Again, your greedy pussy pulls the egg back in as soon as you've stopped pushing.

Despite your exhaustion, a grin fights its way across your dazed expression. You deliberately clench your muscles, purposefully sucking the egg back inside you.

You're almost expecting the orgasm this time, although there's no way to prepare for the force of it. You keen, arching your back as the egg threatens to disappear back inside you. The fullness is incredible, the pain only adding to the sublime pleasure, and you wonder what you've done to deserve this. What kind of ancient, lecherous deity has decided to gift you with such pleasure?

I can die here, and it'd be worth it.

And you mean it. But not without wringing out every drop of pleasure you can from your precious cargo.

By now, the sun has set completely, leaving it pitch black outside. You distantly wonder why you aren't hungry or thirsty. Does it matter? No, you decide, almost immediately. All that matters right now is cumming, long and hard and as many times as you can.

After some more experimenting, and another two or three orgasms, you settle into a rhythm. You bear down at a constant pressure to the count of ten; any higher and you lose concentration. Then you push down with all your might for one beat before clenching your cunt as tight as you can the next.

It takes forever to get it even a third of the way out. You'd probably have birthed the egg by now but you're having too much fun fucking yourself with it. Adding to the orgy of your moans and grunts and whines is the luscious, sucking sound your pussy makes every time it slurps the egg back up. You're shaking continuously now, verging on overstimulated and loving it.

But as much as you want to keep going, to keep fucking yourself with your egg until you pass out again, you're also dying to know…

What happens when the egg comes out?

You shiver in anticipation.

And bear down on the egg as hard as you can. The sounds that escape your throat are wild and animal, completely unrestrained. Harsh, guttural grunts as the orgasm builds, broken by loud squeals as it crests. Your mind is hazy, and more than once you forget what you're doing, why you keep pushing. You should just keep your beloved egg inside you forever, never to part with it.

No. Just keep… just keep going…

It seems to take an eternity, and that's when you feel it.

The egg is beginning to narrow.

Last chance, you tell yourself. If you push it out all the way now, you might not—probably won't—be able to get it back in. The thought makes you almost unbearably sad. But somehow, you know that as good as you feel now, feeling the egg finally slip out of your pussy will eclipse everything else you've experienced thus far.

That certainty wins out.

You bear down one last time.

The egg slides out of your drenched cunt. You want to take a look at it, glance down at your belly now to see what it looks like, but your mind has gone completely blank. In that moment, you are pure blinding light and pleasure. The living embodiment of ecstasy and carnal desire. You cunt squirts, your wetness coating the insides of your thighs and the tile beneath you. First you scream, and then you sob.

You never want to do that again.

If you had the strength, you'd crawl over to your precious egg and force it back inside yourself so you could birth it again.

With one last heaving breath, you roll over onto your side and scan the kitchen with blurry vision to look for the egg. It hadn't gone far, rolling only an inch or two away from your left foot. It's an iridescent green, glinting wetly under the kitchen lights.

It's beautiful.

You want to sleep. So badly.