Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jimmy found himself unoccupied, yet again. Crashing the only thing you were supposed to pay attention to might lead to moments of dead air, but he hadn’t thought of that. He’s the captain, he’s in charge, everyone listens to him now, but when he’s done being pestered for every little thing, there’s not much else to do. He doesn’t need to check that the navigation is functional, or correct any mistakes the autopilot might make, they’re still, stuck, unmoving and lost without any sort of reassurance that things will magically mend and they can go home. 

What is there at home, anyway? Not much, at least not for Jimmy. This was the only job keeping him afloat, this petty lower-rank compared to Mr. Perfect, who probably will get kisses and praise despite everything being his fault. He wasn’t supposed to leap into the cockpit and try to ‘correct’ the ‘mistake’, the plan could have been executed flawlessly! He wouldn't be sitting here, grinding his teeth at the reminder that things aren’t fixed. 

Oh, Curly, Mr. Fuckin’ Perfect tried his best, but Jimmy was gonna fix things, better than that blondie ever could. Jimmy leaned against the wall, glancing at the entrance to the hall to the medbay. Curly was laid out in that cot, still managing to soak up attention, even as a pathetic, meaty husk of a man. It didn’t matter how worthless he was in his state, it was insisted he was kept alive, sponging up all the time and headspace of the in-name-only nurse. It didn’t matter that he did nothing but whine and bleed, because he’s Curly, and Curly’s always gonna have grovelers smooching the ground he walks on.

Jimmy huffed loudly from his nostrils, brow furrowing in frustration. His mind kept looping back to the ex-captain, no matter how any train of thought started. He didn’t understand how the man managed to be ahead of him, he was the most socially awkward person Jimmy had ever had to deal with in his life, excluding himself. Though, Jimmy wasn’t awkward as much as he was often misunderstood. They never got him, they’ll never get him, even the one person who he was convinced knew him sat there and argued when he betrayed them all, like he wasn’t getting exactly what he wanted without issue. 

The man couldn’t even take a joke; the memory burned into Jimmy’s head for years. It was perfect, just buy Curly something that makes no sense for him to need; he’s no woman, he didn’t need something like tampons. He remembers holding up the box, ‘I got you a little something’ with a squinty-eyed smirk, the bubbling feeling in his chest of holding back hysterical laughter. But, Curly didn’t seem to find it funny, he just… stared forward, like he’d gone through shell-shock. Jimmy punched his shoulder and chuckled, but Curly’s expression didn’t budge. He acted kinda odd the rest of that night, not even making a light chuckle at the movies that came on the TV. Jimmy thought back on that day periodically, mostly trying to figure out why Curly didn’t seem to find it funny, because it was, but Big Blondie didn’t seem to think so. He couldn’t even ask him about it, he’s sat there bleeding on a cot, less of a man than accepting that box of tampons ever did. …Why did he keep those, anyway? Maybe he was considerate of Jimmy’s money- no, Jimmy doesn’t need his pity. Maybe he’s got some secret girlfriend he’s never once mentioned? No, Jimmy could sniff out if any woman was near him, that man could never be anything but red when he was hiding something. 

…Come to think of it, that box made his face go red. Why would he be embarrassed? As if Curly, of all people, would be insecure about his masculinity. Sure, Jimmy poked fun at him, especially because his pecs never looked like anything but boobs, despite working out so much. He… always had those, huh? Was he always built like that before getting into weightlifting? Then it clicked, and Jimmy’s expression dropped from contempt to shock. 

“You’re a woman?!” Jimmy blurted as he practically leaped through the medbay door. 

Curly didn’t respond, not like he really could. Unlike his typical staring self, though, he seemed to actively avoid acknowledging the other man in the room. Jimmy glared, approaching with slow, heavy steps. 

“You thought you could get away with it, huh.” He mocked “No, not with me, I don’t believe in any tricks. I can’t believe you’d lie to my face, hiding what you are.”

He leaned over, making eye-contact with Curly, who was noticeably starting to breathe more panicked. Jimmy’s eyes trailed up and down his former friend, his face becoming more amused. A hand traveled down and ran a finger against the ridge of Curly’s pelvis.

“Should’ve noticed those… birthing hips.” Jimmy muttered, a smirk on his face “Yours aren’t exactly as equipped, though, I know who is.”

Curly’s stare managed to become more intense than usual, his jaw clenching with air hissing through his teeth. With a large amount of strain and pained noises, he pulled himself up to nearly meet Jimmy’s face.

“…yoouuu.” A hot, breathy voice croaked behind interlocked jaws.

“…What?” Jimmy squawked, baffled.

Curly lied back down, returning to his typical still staring. 

“What the hell? You talk once and it’s to spout nonsensical bullshit at me?!” 

Curly didn’t respond, watching intently. 

“Answer me! You can fucking talk!” Jimmy barked, grabbing Curly’s shoulders, earning a shriek. 

“…Jimmy.” Anya had appeared in the doorway, shocked, yet stern-sounding.

Jimmy released the man from his grasp, ignoring the whines while wiping the newly wept fluids away on his uniform. He muttered under his breath before exiting, not wanting to deal with that nurse’s over-sensitive nonsense. 

Chapter Text

Jimmy awoke to the same red haze that greeted everyone since the crash. He huffs exhausted breath and blinks his tired eyes, pushing himself into a sitting position. A hand comes up to rub his face, only for an intense wave of nausea to snap him out of his slow rise. He groaned from partially parted lips, returning to lying down. He looked to see that Daisuke seemed to still be sleeping, maybe the others as well, though Swansea’s snores were absent. 

He felt a weight on his stomach, it churning the more attention was brought to it. He turned to face the wall, hoping he could just sleep it off. The last thing he needs is everyone in this stupid ship aggravating his nerves with this weird layer of sickness to make it all the more miserable. But it didn’t pass, and instead bubbled up into retching. A hand cupped his mouth as he suddenly righted himself and bee-lined to the bathroom, almost tripping over his unconscious coworker. The door slid open, barely making time as gags turned into proper vomiting, palms death-gripping the cool tile below. 

So, sick he was, …joyous. After flushing away the evidence, he tried washing up at the sink. Maybe he’d actually use mouthwash for its intended purpose, rather than as a sad excuse for a drink. The flavor of bile clung in his mouth, mildly burning his throat, even with the water. 

While at the sink, he caught a glance of himself at the mirror. God, he looked like shit. Sleep deprived, greasy, and… oh, that was new. A hand dropped down to his torso, fingers tracing down his stomach. Was he always that… round? He’s barely been eating, how the hell did he gain weight? His face too, why was it puffy? Why the hell would this happen, let alone overnight? 

He has so many questions, and as much as he hated to admit it, Anya would probably be best to talk to. That ‘nurse’ does have at least some basic understanding of medical nonsense, she’d know more than him. He hated to think about that, thinking about her of all people being above him to any degree. His stomach rumbled, urging him to begrudgingly seek out help. He made his way to the medbay, scowling with his arms around his belly. Did he always walk like that? With a slight waddle? No. No, this is weird. 

“Anya?” He called out, opening the sliding door 

She was hunched over Curly, jumping at her own name. Curly made a small shriek of pain from the cot, clearly having some sort of procedure interrupted. 

“…Sorry, Jimmy, you startled me.” Anya spoke, hand over chest “What did you need?”

“Ugh,” Jimmy furrowed his brows and looked at the wall “I fuckin’ woke up sick, and I don’t know what the problem is.”

“Oh.” She flatly replied “What’re your symptoms?”

“I feel like shit.” He said bluntly, flicking his gaze forward just to return it to the wall

“Could you specify?” She remained clinical

“Ugh, I can’t look at- Look, I woke up, threw up, and came here. You’re supposed to be the medical one, yeah?”

“I see.”

The stench of bodily fluids struck his nostrils like a wet fish, mixing with the normal metallic odor of the Tulpar, and spilled mouthwash dousing everything in sugary mint. Nausea reared its ugly head again, making him clutch his stomach. 

“Urgh… fuck.” Jimmy hissed, leaning against the wall.

Anya stared, looking unimpressed. 

“Quit staring- what’s wrong with me?!” He barked, huffing

“Morning sickness.” She said, clinical.

“What?! What kind of jo-“ horked up whatever remained in his stomach without warning

“Morning sickness.” She repeated, resting an elbow in one hand “You’ll get that for the first trimester, it’s normal.”

“…Fucking what?”

“You’re pregnant, Jimmy.”

“What- what- what the fuck is this bullshit excuse of a joke?!”

“It’s not a joke, Jim.” She returns to facing Curly. “You should’ve considered the risks. Maybe, if you made different choices, you could’ve avoided this.”

Jimmy looked on in disgusted confusion, backing up slowly. 

“You’re- you’re-“ he couldn’t string together the words, he wanted to scream, he wanted to tell her how enraged this sad excuse of a prank made him. He couldn’t, though, he was…  shaking? She wasn’t serious, there’s no way that could be possible. He’s a man, a cis-het-male; he could never get knocked up! He trotted out, leaving the scene. 

His finger ran down his belly again. It’s just fat, it’s nothing, it’s not an inexplicable baby. It didn’t… squish like fat would, though. Pushing on it revealed it was stiff, unmoving. His stomach sank, his free hand pulling down his face. This isn’t happening.

Back to the restroom, he needs to check on his manhood. He yanked down his uniform, yep, still has his parts. See? She was bullshitting, she’s trying to fuck with him. His eyes met the mirror again. Wait, what was going on with his pecs? Fingers felt around his chest, finding a quarter-sized lump under each nipple. What… the fuck? What was happening to him? Of course the only medically inclined person on board wants to play pranks more than do her singular job. Of course he got on her bad side, she could send signs, but him answering the call was wrong. There has to be another option, anything. 

What if she was right?

Chapter Text

God, this was real, wasn’t it? Not only was this real, but he couldn’t even hide it. He was changing from the inside-out because of this thing he’d never asked for. Was this some sort of sick karma? Defying all worldly logic to spite him? He couldn’t even pace to try and get his mind off it, his strides became more waddle-like with each passing day. He couldn’t stand without being plagued with aches all over. This was miserable, how the fuck do people do this willingly? 

His uniform was snug around his torso, the belt feeling uncomfortably tight. Had the others noticed? There’s no way they hadn’t, he practically had tits at this point, as if the protruding belly wasn’t enough of a giveaway. Would they think he was a woman? He wasn’t! He was a man! Curly’s the woman trying to pose as a man! Attack him! Dogpile him! He’s the problem, the one to blame! Er… she? He couldn’t seem to flip those around in his head.

A small pain shot through him. These things move- kick?! This was so violating, his body wasn’t even his anymore, just a thing for this parasite to feed off of. Anya fixed her unwanted spawn, why couldn’t he? Where did this one even come from? She had to do with it, and Curly had to know, why else would he have hissed vague nonsense otherwise? They’re probably both giggling in the medbay, mocking his misery; that whiny bitch and a sad slab of meat.

He grimaced and made his way to medbay, Anya had to have something to do with it, that means she can reverse it, right? He hated having to go to her for anything, she could barely even handle giving Curly pills, let alone… whatever this is. 

The door to medical slipped open, Jimmy awkwardly stumbling through the entrance. Curly was splayed out on the cot, taking in large, somewhat shaky breaths. Closer examination showed his one eye to have a pinhole for a pupil, probably sleeping. Anya was absent, where would she be if not huffing in Curly’s stench? 

“Worried about packing on the pounds, eh?” Swansea mocked from the entrance, raising an eyebrow

“The last thing I need is you to cause more issues.” Jimmy hissed

“More issues than you?” He sneered “Please, if I was tryin’ to outcompete you, I’d be a lot less sober.”

“The hell are you doing here, anyway?”

“Walkin’ past, door was open, simple as that.”

“Get back to work.”

“As I was doing. …By the way, might wanna reconsider the belt, wife says it ain’t good for that.” He snickered as he walked away

Jimmy growled, seeming to awaken Curly from his shallow slumber. His head snapped to look at him, baring his teeth.

“You had something to do with this.” He hissed, nails digging into the stained bedding “You knew. You knew and you wanted to fuck with me, didn’t you? You and that- that-“

He snarled again, evolving into a shout and raising his fists in the air. His fingers unfurled and his hands dragged down his face, kneeling beside Curly, elbows in the cushioning. 

“…You… What did you do to me?” His rage dissipated into fear, not an emotion Curly often saw out of Jimmy. “It’s fixable, right? I can’t do this, Curly, t-there’s gotta be something- anything?!”

Curly stared silently, as he always did. No blinking, no frown or smile, just an ever-watching blue eye.

“Fuck.” His hands folded behind his head, a moment of silence appearing. “Fuck, fuck, fuckity, FUCK!!” His rage reappeared, practically throwing himself upward. “You knew! You knew! You didn’t stop it! Oh, no! That’s too much to ask, isn’t it?! You’ve got her sucking your teeth and couldn’t save your pal, huh?!” 

Fists slammed into raw flesh, staining knuckles red with freshly oozing blood and fluid. Jimmy screeched swear-filled nonsense as Curly cried out after each blow. This was his fault! He should’ve stepped in, maybe making a pathetic little squeal before anything happened! He can cry, why can’t he prevent this horrific bullshit?!

Now Jimmy was the one heaving, a wave of dizziness washing over him. He stumbled into the wall, sliding down to the floor, defeated. His gaze went to the ceiling, trying to catch his breath. This was also new, he never got winded punishing Curly, but it’s like his lungs weren’t big enough anymore. 

“…Jimmy?” Daisuke appeared, having his elbows slightly bent as he leaned toward the man splayed out against the wall. “You seen Anya?”

Jimmy grumbled at the intern, furrowing his brows, but not having enough energy to quite ignite the flame. 

“No.” He stated, flatly

“Oh,” Daisuke replied, straightening his posture “weird, I coulda sworn I saw her in here a second ago.” 

“Nope.” Jimmy replied, popping the P loudly. 

“Well, uh, if you see her, let me know, I was gonna invite her to game night.” 

“Mhm.”

Daisuke left the room, Jimmy left alone with his thoughts, and a live punching bag he couldn’t use.

Chapter Text

Jimmy never understood why people found showers so supposedly relaxing. It’s just standing… but wet. They never really got rid of the filth, it just made it moist, adding water to existing grease. The crash made it so such mundane routines such as this were sparingly partaken. He should’ve considered that one asteroid wasn’t enough, though, at the time it seemed like it. 

But now he’s here, still living, having streams of mildly odorous water sprayed onto him. How many times had the cleaning water been recycled? It didn’t matter, it always stunk, there’s a reason it’s not drinkable. It ran down his face, to his chest, to his stomach, to the floor. His abdomen was so bulbous now, he actually had to make an effort to rinse down there, instead of just standing motionlessly and calling it a day. 

He hated this. He hated having to acknowledge it. He hated looking at himself even more than he did anytime before. He lost count of the stretch marks, he could actually scoop the tits up in his hands, and every waking second of finding anything else robbing him of his masculinity made his stomach twist in on itself. He couldn’t even look below the waist anymore, the only assurance that he hadn’t lost the sole remnant of male-ness was by hand. 

His uniform didn’t fit quite right anymore, having to leave it unzipped the majority of the time. No hiding this anymore, he had to face his crew with the bloated belly and swollen breasts of maternity. Even the pants of the suit were all-too-snug around the hips. They had to think he was a woman now, eugh. He wasn’t! He can prove it! He did! It didn’t matter, though, because in spite of logic, this was real, this was happening, and now he’s got a kid he never wanted within him. His body was its home, and it could shove or squish any organ it wanted out of the way to make room. He was gonna nearly piss and shit himself daily, cry like a bitch, and live with it.

Should he swallow his pride and beg? Pwease, Anya, I don’t wanna be a baby mama! Take it away! No, that’s stupid. God, what was he gonna do? What could he do? 

He went to the medbay, yet again, meeting Curly’s eye and no Anya.

“Fuck.” He hissed, grasping the sides of his head “fuck, fuck, f-“ he sank down to his knees and held back tears

Curly watched silently, his staring seeming almost mocking. Jimmy’s stomach churned, hands shaking as he looked at himself again. 

“I’m… I’m sorry- I’m so fucking sorry, Curly!” His palms on the ground as he screamed “Please, get it out- I don’t want this- I’ll do anything! Fix this!!”

Curly didn’t respond, staring, per usual. He could imagine the response he would’ve had; something, something karma, something, something responsibility. Ugh, even imaginary Curly got on his nerves.

“…Anything?” Anya’s voice echoed behind him.

Jimmy’s head spun to look, wide-eyed and snotty-nosed. 

“What did you do to me?!” He demanded “Get it out! I don’t want it!!”

“…Neither did I, Jim.” She spoke, solemn.

Jimmy hissed air through his teeth, eyes flicking around the room. He tried saying things, but all the words flopped around in his mouth. He growled, balling his fists in frustration.

“Just- I- FIX ME!!!” He snarled “I wasn’t made for this!”

“Neither was I.” Anya replied again, calm, but stern, glancing at the desk. “…consider that this is not the fault of others, Jimmy. It was you who acted, you who risked, and you who faced consequences because of that.” She looked at him again, her dark eyes seeming to sear holes where they gazed. “We aren’t defined by our worst moments, but that doesn’t mean our worst moments are free of consequence.”

“This isn’t consequence, this is torment!” He barked “You putting your problems on me isn’t gonna fix anything!”

“Hm.” She looked away again “It was never me, Jimmy. This is your problem, not mine. I can offer help, despite you never doing the same for me, because unlike you, I consider the struggles of others.”

She walked over to Curly’s side, glancing down at him, his eye glancing at her nearby hand. Jimmy huffed infuriated breaths, but felt a tingly feeling in his chest rise up and spreading to the rest of his body. He shouldn’t be seen like this, fuck- why the hell was she just standing there?! Why wasn’t anyone gonna help him? Why did this happen to him? Why was no one as horrified as him? For once he had to admit to himself that he was scared, helpless. His stubbornness could only get him so far, and now he was stuck with this chest-squeezing fear; no one to help, nowhere to hide, a countdown of misery ticking until it’ll stop without warning. The final sting? Curly managing to wheeze out a chuckle to rub salt in the wound. 

He fled the scene, trying to get as far away as he could from them, from anyone. He slipped into the cockpit, reddened with the cracked warning screens, and caked in emergency foam. No one would need to go here except him, the captain. He slid down to the floor with his blood running cold. This is where this all started, wasn’t it? If he didn’t butcher his plan, he wouldn’t be here, unable to even bring his knees to his chest. Every negative emotion washed over him like dozens of crashing waves until he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Now, here he was, the fully grown man, the Tulpar’s new captain, sitting and… how’d he put it before? Crying like a bitch. 

Chapter Text

It hurt. Waking up to felt like five charlie-horses in his belly, fingers unable to do anything but try and rub it away. Of course Daisuke noticed, Jimmy wasn’t exactly the quietest when it came to complaining. The kid wanted to help, and be a good little obedient thing, but Jimmy didn’t appreciate it much. He just begged for this living nightmare to end. He felt like the stupid Polle statue stood atop his abdomen, spouting pre-recorded lines to mock his pain. 

He had to get up, he had to fight through it. He’s a man, not a puss! …Maybe he might be a little bit of one. Attempting to stand resulted in a stumble and involuntary cries of pain. 

“Jimmy,” Daisuke began, looking behind him momentarily “if you aren’t feeling good, shouldn’t you, like… not try to get up?”

“I’m fucking fine.” Jimmy snarled “just- hrngh!”

He wasn’t exactly disproving his point. 

“L-Look, I’ll go get Anya, she’s-“ Daisuke ran off before finishing the sentence

Jimmy laid his head back down on the bedding below, huffing strained breaths, hands cradling his stomach. His eyes fell shut, teeth clenched. Anya appeared, squatting beside him with folded hands.

“Jimmy.” She started, clinical in tone “Tell me exactly how you’re feeling.”

“Fuckin’ peachy.” He spat

“Jimmy.” She repeated sternly, “We need to know what’s going on, and I’m gonna have to ask you to cooperate.”

“Nngh-“ He’d argue, but god it really hurt. “Stomach’s killing me.”

“Is it constant or periodic?”

“Both? Mostly periodic, I guess.”

“Anything else?”

“Urgh… I don’t know, my back’s killing me too? It feels like there’s a 20-pound thing on me- oh wait, there is, who knew?”

“Well, you’re being vague with me, so I can’t be too much help.”

“The hell am I supposed to say?”

“Well, Jimmy, you’re not gonna want to hear this, but I think it’s time.”

“What? Time for w- AGH”

“…You’re probably going into labor.”

“What?! How?! I can’t! I’m not a woman! I’ve still got a cock! I checked!”

“I don’t know, Jim, but that’s what’s probably causing your pain.”

“Horseshit! Where would it even go?”

He grimaced and whined again, face red. Was it from embarrassment or pain? Only he would know. His pants were soaked in fluid, there was no amount of denial that could stop it. Panic set in quickly, eyes darting between the witnesses as his breathing sped up. 

“We need to get you in medical, okay?” Anya said, trying to nudge is farther shoulder

“No! Fuck! This isn’t happening!” He writhed at the touch, denial dripping from his every word

“I never took a labor and delivery course, but I’d be of more help than not. Even if this is… not typical.”

“I’m not letting you do anything to me!”

“…Daisuke, could you get Swansea for me?”

Daisuke nodded with certainty before running off again. 

“Daisu- FUCK!” Jimmy tried to call out

Shortly after the kid disappeared, Swansea entered the room, arms crossed, eyes unimpressed. 

“What’s’t you need?” He sighed

“He’s being uncooperative.” She stated, almost like a disappointed parent. “I might need your help to move him, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“M’kay.” Swansea said with a nod, squatting down and wrapping his arms around Jimmy.

“Get the fuck off me!” Jimmy screeched, thrashing his limbs around, but pausing between

Daisuke swooped in to try and help, holding Jimmy’s fists, whilst Swansea held down the kicking legs with the nook of his elbow. Jimmy tried wiggling, kicking, screaming, but winded himself more than loosened any grip. He was carried bridal-style to the medbay, Anya pulling out the spare cot and trying to straighten it out. Jimmy was unceremoniously plopped down, sending electrifying shockwaves up his back and belly. He returned to his previous pose, massaging the skin with unclean fingers.

How long did this last? He never witnessed this stuff before, it was always just glossed over in the movies. Maybe it wasn’t that long, if nothing ever focused on it, he recalls episodes of things that had it completely off-screen. Maybe it’ll just feel like it’s longer because it’s painful. This felt hellish no matter what. He rolled his head back, seeing that stupid, bloodshot eye staring back at him.

“The hell are you looking at?!” He hissed

Curly didn’t respond, not even changing the direction of his glance. It’s almost like he could hear the bastard’s voice saying ‘you did this to me, this is karma doing this to you’, shrugging his broad-ass shoulders with a smug expression.

“Jimmy…” Anya’s expression flickered between horror, disgust, and contempt, not able to maintain eye contact. “I… I need you to…” she couldn’t get the words out, holding her hands over her chest “Your uniform.”

“…w-What?” He growled between his clenched teeth

“Jimmy, you have to take it off.” She almost whispered, cringing at herself saying those words. “W-We should have another gown if you’re more comfortable with-“

“You want me to strip for you now?!” He almost shouted in disbelief “grgh- What happened to not liking the show?” 

“I’m not gonna justify myself to you.” She spoke sternly, furrowing her brows. “If you want to not have the fetus rot inside you, you will follow instructions.”

“F-…f-FUCK!” He squeaked in frustration

God, this was really happening, he was really gonna do this, this isn’t a dream, this isn’t some weird fucked up drug trip. He slipped out of the jumpsuit, straining himself to not collapse back down on the cot, completely fluid-filled pants falling down to his ankles. Now his thing was just on full display in front of his coworkers, fuckin’ fantastic. Just add humiliation onto the multi-layered misery cake he was experiencing!

His face was red, doused in sweat, practically cracking his teeth from how hard he was clenching his jaw. He could feel his innards twist within him, squeezing, ripping, rearranging, it’s like the little bastard was playing with his organs on the way out. His fingers clawed at the cheap fabric, balling into white-knuckled fists.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. 

He couldn’t stop his vocal cords from crying out, going from grunts to extended moans of agony. He sounded worse than Curly without meds, louder, rougher, and… a lot more swear-heavy. He didn’t know how long he was laid there, feeling throbbing from his stomach to his member, soaked in sweat, throat raw from his screaming. 

Wasn’t there a way to bypass this? Couldn’t he just skip the process by scooping the fucker out? That required surgery… and of course no one on the Tulpar could do that. They had nothing to knock him out either, otherwise Curly would be staring a lot less. He was fucked. He didn’t even have some sort of medication he could take. He’d steal from Curly, but Anya would probably guard those like a dog, because poor widdle Curwy needs his boo boos to stop hurtin’. Cramps snaked through his gut, things tearing and opening up with each contraction. He felt the pressure and weight shift ever so slightly, making any nearby star system know he was not having it. 

Now came the worst part, as if his aching stomach and newfound incontinence wasn’t enough. He didn’t have a puss, where the hell was this thing heading? Oh, oh god, it wasn’t gonna-

Yes. Yes, it was. 

A penis was never meant to do this, but now it had to. This was worse than any kidney stone, worse than any UTI, this was hell. Fingers dug into the cot again, tears filling his eyes, a sound jumped out of his throat he didn’t know he was capable of making. Anya was at the foot of the bed, seeming to use the discarded uniform in place of a blanket, her expression horrified, disgusted, but determined. 

The thing squeezed its way through the narrow passage, blood starting to drip out. Skin stretched and began tearing, warranting more squeals and mattress-punching. It ballooned around the vague shape of the head, red oozing from ripping flesh, taut strands popping open as it traveled down. He had no idea how he hadn’t passed out from the pain. Was this sick, magic karma just wanting to drag him through the fire, kicking and screaming, unable to feel relief? He felt so sick, this all was unbearable, his eyes sopping wet with unending tears, his face ached from how long he’d had it scrunched. Wounds expanded, squirting blood as it trailed from the tip to the base. The final stretch, last snapping of tissue, whatever was left was beyond recognition. 

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

“O-oh!” Anya looked mortified “You’re… done, Jim. Um…”

She held the wad of fabric, wrapping the sleeves around like a blanket, approaching the exhausted man slowly. He heaved breaths, feeling waves of relief, finally unclenching his jaw. The bundle was placed on his chest, his arms subconsciously wrapping around it. His eyes creaked open at the little bastard, whatever it was. 

“POLLE SAYS: Hiya, Daddy! Or… what should I call you, old man?”