Been thinking about rapid eggpreg...
Inserted with some sort of squishy egg, no bigger than a marble. There are enough of them in you at first that you can already feel them settling, despite being the smallest size.
After a couple minutes, you start to feel a difference. A little pudge around your midsection, shifting around as they change size - a pleasant fullness.
A few more minutes, and you're noticeably larger to anyone who looks at you. Still able to play it off as something else, your stomach is warm and beginning to stretch out. A tummy rub doesn't feel half bad.
Twenty minutes later, they fill you up enough that it's no longer avoidable - you've got something in you. Your clothes begin to feel tight; shed the shirt, unbutton the pants. Make room, you're far from done.
You're stomach is truly being stretched to its limits. It pokes out far enough that you can't see the growing wetness beneath you. Every movement you make jostles the eggs around, making you catch your breath each time. There's still some flexibility to your stomach, but poking your poor tummy does nothing but draw out moans and groans of pleasure.
Now it's harder to move. You might regret the way you asked for more and more eggs from whatever sap put them in you. You'd better waddle fast to wherever you want to lay these things, as you won't be able to much longer. Your stomach protests, tight and hot as it makes room for a clutch it was never meant to have.
You're pinned beneath the massive expanse of your gut. You can't reach yourself to tend to your slick pussy anymore - better hope you have good help. A couple eggs begin moving down, simply running out of space everywhere else. The sensations of egg and skin and fluid and touch begins to become too much.
You've become more stomach than person at this point. Your skin is like a stretched drum, no flesh left to give to any press. Each touch sends shockwaves through your body. The grapefruit-sized eggs press against every inch of you, making each breath a struggle. Panting moans aren't the only thing that comes from you, the eggs sliding out easier than they came in - or perhaps not. Maybe your help holds them in place, letting them bulge in and out, but never slip free. Maybe they let a few shoot out of you, before taking them back in hand and shoving them in. You've grown them so well, you can handle another hour, can't you? Two, three? Planting kisses all over your ever-growing tummy, telling you through the haze that this is what you were meant for, growing their spawn and being lost in the pleasure of it all.
And then after an agonized age, you never learn your lesson, and beg for way too many eggs than you can handle all over again <3
