♥ Preganancy scare ♥ Be afraid, be very afraid ♥ Variable aphro ♥
It was official. She was fucked.
Pasha felt utterly sick. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t part of her plan. Not that being stuck in this damned place was part of her plans. But there had been ways around that, thinking of this as a sabbatical of sorts from her work with Starfleet or even a chance to properly socialise herself into ‘normal’ teenage attitudes. But this…
Pasha raked a hand through her hair, looking fraught with panic. She would never be able to manage with a child of all things. She could hardly remember to feed herself sometimes, how was she supposed to take care of something that small, that fragile and that depended on her? She’d already checked the results that the doctor had given her three times with her own tricorder, not trusting the technology the hotel used, but there was no hiding that her stomach was rounder then it had been even last night.
Five month. Five month and there would be a squealing, sticky, irritating thing taking away her freedom and ruining her life plan. The young genius knew many things, but this? She didn’t even know how to begin to cope with this. Desperately she waved the tricorder attachment over her stomach once again, praying that it had been wrong. It did something worse then that though. It confirmed that she was in fact very pregnant and that the father was only a few feet away. Yanking a men’s large shirt on over her underwear, Pasha dashed out of the door. She needed to know who it was so she could figure out how to handle this.
The tricorder bleeped and whirred in confirmation. And there they were.
Fuck.
[OOC: Yes, I live off being mean to this poor girl. Obviously she's up the spout and not best pleased. Anyone she's slept with, or even if she hasn't slept with them and the tricorder's just being faulty, is welcome. For extra funzies, I would actually love a female muse to tag in. But there's just one disadvantage to being preggers, with Pasha's already unstable hormones, it's likely to either make her aroused or extremely pissed off. Be afraid. Just plain CR is fine.]
Pasha felt utterly sick. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t part of her plan. Not that being stuck in this damned place was part of her plans. But there had been ways around that, thinking of this as a sabbatical of sorts from her work with Starfleet or even a chance to properly socialise herself into ‘normal’ teenage attitudes. But this…
Pasha raked a hand through her hair, looking fraught with panic. She would never be able to manage with a child of all things. She could hardly remember to feed herself sometimes, how was she supposed to take care of something that small, that fragile and that depended on her? She’d already checked the results that the doctor had given her three times with her own tricorder, not trusting the technology the hotel used, but there was no hiding that her stomach was rounder then it had been even last night.
Five month. Five month and there would be a squealing, sticky, irritating thing taking away her freedom and ruining her life plan. The young genius knew many things, but this? She didn’t even know how to begin to cope with this. Desperately she waved the tricorder attachment over her stomach once again, praying that it had been wrong. It did something worse then that though. It confirmed that she was in fact very pregnant and that the father was only a few feet away. Yanking a men’s large shirt on over her underwear, Pasha dashed out of the door. She needed to know who it was so she could figure out how to handle this.
The tricorder bleeped and whirred in confirmation. And there they were.
Fuck.
[OOC: Yes, I live off being mean to this poor girl. Obviously she's up the spout and not best pleased. Anyone she's slept with, or even if she hasn't slept with them and the tricorder's just being faulty, is welcome. For extra funzies, I would actually love a female muse to tag in. But there's just one disadvantage to being preggers, with Pasha's already unstable hormones, it's likely to either make her aroused or extremely pissed off. Be afraid. Just plain CR is fine.]