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Nov. 1st, 2008 04:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
h_hollisterThe feeling of discomfort had followed her for the last forty-eight hours or so.
She knows how lucky she is, in that Sammy seemed content to not kick. Sure, he would wiggle, he would change position, but he wouldn't kick. If he tried to, she was certain she'd suffer from a lot worse than bruises. Six legs...
As the last month wore endlessly on, Hips felt more and more and more lethargic. She'd taken to eating nearly-raw steak, as much as she could stomach. Vegetables made her nauseous. Sugar, anything with sugar in it, even sugar substitutes, made her vomit. Sammy would, more than likely, not have a sweet tooth.
She felt the build of preparing to give birth, every second closer to a new life. It made her heart race, sometimes, knowing how close she was to finally holding her son. It was almost musical, a crescendo in her parasite's singing, building and building and building...
Oops.
She'd been napping when she awoke with a start, amazed to discover that she was lying in a puddle of wetness. Her first, immediate thought was that she'd had an incontinent episode again, and she flushed with embarrassment. Then, her stomach lurched...as Sammy kicked.
She gasps and winces, not even trying to sit up or move. Oh. Oh. Well, then.
...Wait. Wait, no, it's too soon, he's early.
{RAMON!} She puts all of her not inconsiderable strength into that parasite call, knowing that he'd hear her even if he were on the moon in this world. She's got a good set of lungs on her, even through parasite chatter.
She knows how lucky she is, in that Sammy seemed content to not kick. Sure, he would wiggle, he would change position, but he wouldn't kick. If he tried to, she was certain she'd suffer from a lot worse than bruises. Six legs...
As the last month wore endlessly on, Hips felt more and more and more lethargic. She'd taken to eating nearly-raw steak, as much as she could stomach. Vegetables made her nauseous. Sugar, anything with sugar in it, even sugar substitutes, made her vomit. Sammy would, more than likely, not have a sweet tooth.
She felt the build of preparing to give birth, every second closer to a new life. It made her heart race, sometimes, knowing how close she was to finally holding her son. It was almost musical, a crescendo in her parasite's singing, building and building and building...
Oops.
She'd been napping when she awoke with a start, amazed to discover that she was lying in a puddle of wetness. Her first, immediate thought was that she'd had an incontinent episode again, and she flushed with embarrassment. Then, her stomach lurched...as Sammy kicked.
She gasps and winces, not even trying to sit up or move. Oh. Oh. Well, then.
...Wait. Wait, no, it's too soon, he's early.
{RAMON!} She puts all of her not inconsiderable strength into that parasite call, knowing that he'd hear her even if he were on the moon in this world. She's got a good set of lungs on her, even through parasite chatter.
