Average Gestation
title: Average Gestation
part: 1/?
rating: T
characters: Haruhi + mystery sperm donator
warning: has the word vagina. Ooooers.
fanfiction.net: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4825878/1/Average_Gestation
Average Gestation
3 Weeks Later
By: Kolinshar Benito
Haruhi slowly placed the white plastic stick down on the bathroom counter top. It was neatly laid beside a row of three other similar devices; all of which chemically reacted to the hormones now appearing in trace amounts in her urine.
No, she corrected herself silently. One specific hormone.
hCG. Human chorionic gonadotropin.
The glycoprotein’s name came to her mind effortlessly, as she sat on her toilet seat contemplating what it is she should do. Her eyes caught the blue cross of her final pregnancy test. It was the same shade as the grain freckled bar of soap that sat a little ways away from it, safely nestled in its plastic tray.
She rested her left hand upon her lower body, and lifted her shirt to stare at her abdomen. Slowly, she caressed her skin, her fingers feathering thin, sparse hair that lightly littered her skin. She had never considered herself a hairy individual, but it seemed like she was suddenly hyperaware of her body.
The words zygote, morula, and blastocyte filtered through her head as her hand stopped a few inches above her groin.
A finger now lightly circled her belly button. The nail that was grazing her skin had raw, rippled edges - a testament to a habit she had regressed back into. Her other hand’s thumbnail was grating against her teeth. She had unfortunately returned to an unhygienic childhood habit in the last few months, her nails being chewed down to grubby bits. She imagined her father to wail tragically at the malformation she was inflicting upon herself.
She pulled her hand away from her mouth at that thought.
She resolved within herself to make sure that the only thing her father would be wailing about, in terms of any physical changes happening to her body, would only be about her nails.
Drumming her fingers on her knee, she pulled her shirt back down to her waist.
Warily, and with a light touch, she quickly gathered the urine-contaminated plastic sticks lying on her bathroom counter top. They joined the wrappings they had come out of in the garbage.
She needed to find a book. A quick venture to the university library would be in order.
--------
She quickly shut the book on her hand, with her fingers serving as a book mark. The blood draining from her face, only one thought echoed through her mind:
Oh hell no.
She slowly opened the Maternal and Child Care Nursing textbook once more. Should anyone have looked at her at that precise moment, they would have concluded that her face would forever be permanently etched in a look of abject, painful horror.
Step by step, fully coloured, high resolution, half page pictures of the birthing process lay before her. A Caucasian woman, whose carpet clearly did not match the drapes, was spread before her. Literally spread before her. Large, cellulosed legs were spread wide open as an alien covered in what looked to be like cream cheese, was spat brutally out of her vagina.
Nope.
No more looking at books for her today.
To be continued.
AN: Haruhi strikes me as a particularly self contained woman. She’s rational, and within the series, is a person who thinks before acting. I don’t imagine her to go into hysterics upon finding out that she’s pregnant.
This is a series of shorts.
I hope you enjoy what’s to come.
K.
part: 1/?
rating: T
characters: Haruhi + mystery sperm donator
warning: has the word vagina. Ooooers.
fanfiction.net: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4825878/1/Average_Gestation
Average Gestation
3 Weeks Later
By: Kolinshar Benito
Haruhi slowly placed the white plastic stick down on the bathroom counter top. It was neatly laid beside a row of three other similar devices; all of which chemically reacted to the hormones now appearing in trace amounts in her urine.
No, she corrected herself silently. One specific hormone.
hCG. Human chorionic gonadotropin.
The glycoprotein’s name came to her mind effortlessly, as she sat on her toilet seat contemplating what it is she should do. Her eyes caught the blue cross of her final pregnancy test. It was the same shade as the grain freckled bar of soap that sat a little ways away from it, safely nestled in its plastic tray.
She rested her left hand upon her lower body, and lifted her shirt to stare at her abdomen. Slowly, she caressed her skin, her fingers feathering thin, sparse hair that lightly littered her skin. She had never considered herself a hairy individual, but it seemed like she was suddenly hyperaware of her body.
The words zygote, morula, and blastocyte filtered through her head as her hand stopped a few inches above her groin.
A finger now lightly circled her belly button. The nail that was grazing her skin had raw, rippled edges - a testament to a habit she had regressed back into. Her other hand’s thumbnail was grating against her teeth. She had unfortunately returned to an unhygienic childhood habit in the last few months, her nails being chewed down to grubby bits. She imagined her father to wail tragically at the malformation she was inflicting upon herself.
She pulled her hand away from her mouth at that thought.
She resolved within herself to make sure that the only thing her father would be wailing about, in terms of any physical changes happening to her body, would only be about her nails.
Drumming her fingers on her knee, she pulled her shirt back down to her waist.
Warily, and with a light touch, she quickly gathered the urine-contaminated plastic sticks lying on her bathroom counter top. They joined the wrappings they had come out of in the garbage.
She needed to find a book. A quick venture to the university library would be in order.
--------
She quickly shut the book on her hand, with her fingers serving as a book mark. The blood draining from her face, only one thought echoed through her mind:
Oh hell no.
She slowly opened the Maternal and Child Care Nursing textbook once more. Should anyone have looked at her at that precise moment, they would have concluded that her face would forever be permanently etched in a look of abject, painful horror.
Step by step, fully coloured, high resolution, half page pictures of the birthing process lay before her. A Caucasian woman, whose carpet clearly did not match the drapes, was spread before her. Literally spread before her. Large, cellulosed legs were spread wide open as an alien covered in what looked to be like cream cheese, was spat brutally out of her vagina.
Nope.
No more looking at books for her today.
To be continued.
AN: Haruhi strikes me as a particularly self contained woman. She’s rational, and within the series, is a person who thinks before acting. I don’t imagine her to go into hysterics upon finding out that she’s pregnant.
This is a series of shorts.
I hope you enjoy what’s to come.
K.