A Horrible Attempt at Horror, possibly
Title: Invasion Incubation
Rated: R, possibly?
Disclaimer: disclaimed.
Summary: Written for prompt here. Kirk ends up an incubator for alien babies. It's not pretty.
Kirk could feel the tube all the way down his throat, stretching his mouth impossibly wide; it made his stomach feel heavy and distended. There were tight straps holding him to the table, biting into his skin. In the corner of either eye, he could see failed experiments - his own security guards, red shirts torn open and bellies rounded.
Sometimes, there was movement from inside them, but Kirk was pretty sure they were dead. Vaguely, he wondered if he would end up the same.
Something large and round passed through his esophagus, momentarily cutting off his air, attaching itself to his stomach lining. It was followed by several more until he thought his gut would bust, like eating too much but not stopping.
There was no one around him - living, he reminded himself - when the tube was removed. Bile followed it, but he couldn’t puke up whatever had been planted into him. If this was what the people of this planet considered sex, well, it was the worst he’d ever had.
A shriek resounded through the darkened room, and next to him the dark-haired security guard arched his back, eyes open and lifeless. His stomach stretched and moved, looked like some disfigured hand pressing against thin skin, trying to escape, joined by several more.
The shrieks were joined by another noise, like wet suction and grinding bones. It sent chills up Kirk’s spine as he watched the body split open, an explosion of entrails and organs falling past the rib cage and…
What the hell was that?
It was a creature, a rigid mass of…goo? Jim didn’t know what it was, but it had sharp teeth, beady eyes - if those were eyes - and what could have possibly been hands. And there were several of them, shifting and growling…
They stopped moving suddenly, deflating with an irritating squeal. Jim swallowed nervously.
Then it happened again, the same creature ripping out of the other security guard, still dead and then dying again. It made Jim shake.
Something started moving inside him, and he could feel his stomach stretching impossibly far, things moving and breaking apart. Something was shredding him from the inside out, burning and biting and clawing.
He thought he might’ve screamed, watching the skin across his abdomen move and stretch shapes into the air. It was like a really bad horror film that he may have seen once, but he wasn’t sure anymore. Chemicals shot things into his mind, made him think without thinking.
Jim felt everything.
Nails scratched the inside of his skin, little teeth gnawed on his organs, eggs hatching and starting to feed. He was sure he was screaming now.
He was going to die by becoming food for strange alien babies - an incubator and buffet in one. Just when he thought it really might be his last adventure, he heard phaser fire and the distant commanding voice of his first officer, the mild curses of his CMO.
There were human hands - hopefully human - and then something too cold for comfort beneath his back. A scalpel cut into him, that shrieking noise again, and then doctors hands, medical equipment that may have been primitive, may have been state of the art - he didn’t care.
Things were taken out, screaming and squealing and he wasn’t sure he was doing it or not, but there was blood, and liquid fire pouring into his veins, out of his arteries…
His heart was pumping too fast, and there were still eggs hatching inside of him.
There was stitching sometime later, hours of cursing upon hours of sewing and the green regen gel was readied.
Jim wasn’t sure how long he took in that, too long, if the inane conversations around him were anything to go by. He became aware as often as he was unaware, supposedly unconscious and unfeeling.
There were no physical scars when he came to finally, nothing he could trace to remember, even though he did quite clearly remember. It almost felt like a dream, but the haunted look Bones got every time someone ordered eggs won’t let him forget.
Not that he eats eggs either. For some reason, he can’t really stomach them just yet, if ever. He doesn’t use straws anymore either.
Bones can’t really blame him.
The nightmares never go away.