Lashing out like a snake, the tongue shoots its way into your mouth once more and sprays deep into your mouth. You feel the urge to cough, but you can’t. A webbed, rubbery hand holds your mouth open in order to ensure you don’t get any bright ideas. The thought of biting down didn’t cross your fading mind, however, moving your jaw alone takes too much effort as the still-expanding belly seems to tug at the bottom of what’s left of your head back down in-between the legs.
It pulls harder and harder, even after the tongue finally leaves it won’t stop. The sides of your head have joined the tail nub, leaving you as nothing more than a rapidly deforming face. You try to scream again, feeling something blocking off the back of your ‘throat’. You push harder, and harder, you don’t want to, but something else is in control of you and forcing it out of your mouth. The eggs are pouring out once more, and not even just out of your mouth this time. Some shoot out of your nose as it begins to sink into the tail, your nostrils getting closer and closer to the tip of your mouth, which is being stretched thin vertically as your lower jaw comes to rest at the end of the tail.
The sides of your mouth begin to fold in on themselves in-between the waves of eggs, the pulling from the belly finally stopping as it shrinks back down with every batch laid, but that’s of little comfort to you at this point. It’s almost relieving when your ears disappear and seal up, no longer having to hear any more of the squeaks or squishes of the eggs as they fall out of your puffing orifice. The corners of your mouth are growing tighter and tighter along with your throat, it gets harder to push the eggs out, but as your throat rubberised and your tongue and teeth are sucked into the latex it becomes even easier than before. Your eyes are sinking back into the latex as your mouth gets tighter and tighter. You can’t think anymore, all that’s left is a dull sensation of pushing out the eggs, greenish-blue begins to coat your vision as the world fades from view and the last egg emerges from the she-frogs new orifice.
The two are quite content with the turn of events. The man-frog was so lonely for so long, and well… the new female wasn’t exactly able to complain. She was literally made for him, after all. The two gather their spawn and slink back into the dark waters of the lake, fairly certain that although they have a big job cut out for them, they don’t think these batches will be the last of their spawn for this mating season.