LJ mumble mumble...
5/22/06 09:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyI said LJ MPREG DAY!! *koff*
Ooooh-kaaaay, this wasn’t supposed to happen. This was never supposed to happen. This is mpreg—a theme which personally kinda gives me the heebie-jeebies. Not saying I haven't read some I found fascinating, it's just that I don't seek it out. Plus, you know--babies. not so much the baby person.
but the point is this--it's for Hero.
This was supposed to be a drabble but you know me…
Part one of Roxy Has Lost Her Damn Mind…or the alternative working tile
Whenever Clark thought back to that day, it seemed like it happened a million years ago, the afternoon that changed everything. And when he did he always wondered, if he’d known—would he have done things differently?
******
Those days he’d thought life couldn’t get worse. After the horror of Emily Dinsmore, the collapse of his friendship with Lex, the loss of Pete, he’d felt empty and frightened and lonelier than ever in his life and Lana had come to talk, to say goodbye…and like they sometimes do, things happened.
He could still remember that first kiss clearly, first the touch of his lips on her cheek, she’d stood so still, trembling like a rabbit, and then he’d kissed her mouth, she’d made a little noise. It was so small and meek and went right to his groin. Like every little noise she made, and every little move she made, had a string connected to his cock, and it kept tugging and tugging. She hadn’t stopped, not even when she’d realized he was hard, in fact, she’d rubbed against him, right there, over and over until he begged her please, “Can you touch me, is—is it okay to ask?”
And she’d smiled, and sunk to her knees. Clark thought he’d died and gone to—well, not heaven, unlikely you got blow jobs there that made you feel like your brains were being sucked out the end of your cock…at least that’s what it felt like at the time. It was the best BJ he’d ever had because it was the only one he’d ever had.
And after the two (maybe) whole minutes it took for him to come, she’d pushed him down and blew him until he got hard again and rode him like a pony.
‘God Clark, I missed this,’ he remembered her saying. ‘Please don’t tell anyone, please…’
He’d felt a weird wave of something, not orgasm, not anything he could pin down, it was almost like pain, almost nausea but not.
She’d squeaked. ‘Ouch!’ And stopped for a moment. ‘I’m sorry, I felt a pinch,’ and wiggled in a way that made his eyes roll back in his head and his poor semi-virginal cock couldn’t take the extra stimulation, he came with a yell, and a buck that’d nearly thrown her off the couch.
‘Oh gosh—I’m sorry--did you…’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I didn’t, who had time to? But don’t worry, there’s something you can do for me.’ It ended with her calling out Whitney’s name but in respect, Clark hadn’t mentioned it. They all missed Whitney, after all.
On the day Clark lost his virginity, he’d learned about fellatio, intercourse and cunnilingus. And ass play, but that was kind of accidental. He’d also discovered that love and sex didn’t necessarily come in tandem. He’d never received a word from Lana after she left for Paris. Not a call, or a card, nothing. He knew guys were supposed to be cool with getting sex anyway they could, and sex without strings was supposed to be the best—but he just felt used…kind of like if he’d said no, she wouldn’t have stopped. But that was stupid…wasn’t it?
******
Clark sighed. Now here he was, friendless, girl-less. Loveless. He groaned and rubbed his stomach. It itched all the time. No matter how much cream and stuff he put on it, it itched and if he rubbed too hard it burned.
He pulled up his tee shirt and gasped a little. The skin under his navel was all red, like he’d smacked himself hard--a lot. Crap. He pulled his shirt back down, unconsciously smoothing it flat. Lately his body had decided to go nuts on him. It was bad enough being an alien and not knowing what the hell was going to happen next—sometimes he dreaded waking up in the morning, worried that in the night, maybe tentacles had shot out of his ass. Crap. He stared at his crotch and worried about that, too. He was getting a bump on his cock. In it…he poked carefully at the slight swelling at the base. His cock surged a bit. And it was sensitive. Bad sensitive. Well, bad for being in public. He’d taken to wearing shirts so long he looked like some goofy rapper wanna be, but as long as it covered the boners that sprang willy-nilly…he snorted. Heh. Willy-nilly. He scratched carefully at his stomach and went down stairs to raid the fridge. Again.
*****
Clark scratched off the one hundredth and twenty-second day on the calendar. It had been one hundred and twenty two days since Lana had left and still no call. He idly chewed his way through a bowl of ice and eyed the cabinets. He was pretty sure Mom had picked up one of those party bags of Doritos at the Stop and Shop today. He ate the last piece of ice and sighed. If he didn’t leave for school now, he was screwed. And forget running—he’d tried to speed off to the back fields yesterday and nearly died. Dad had to help him back to the house he had cramps so bad, and then, they’d sat around looking at him, waiting for—for--*tentacles* to shoot out of his ass, damn it.
Clark grabbed his jacket and yelled good-bye, ran carefully to the bus. Shoot. It wasn’t their fault. He understood, he really did. They knew he wasn’t human and anything out of the ordinary he experienced could be…any damn thing. He slumped his way onto the bus and plopped down in the back. Alone.
Pete was gone, Lana was definitely gone, and Chloe and her dad had moved suddenly, so fast that he’d barely had a chance to say good-bye. She’d cried and snotted all over him and disappeared as effectively as Lana had. And not to forget Lex, former best friend and confidant revealed to be a lying bitch, he was nowhere to be seen. Not that he wanted to see him, like he’d told Lex, that friendship was over. That room…it was so…he shivered. And wondered in the back of his mind how much time Lex spent there. And a very fleeting thought wondered what he wore when he was in there…but mostly, Lex was a big fat liar who never even came to see if he was okay after Lana left him--Clark groaned quietly to himself. Why was his inner child a ten-year-old girl given to temper tantrums?
The bus stopped and everyone pushed to get off. He was distracted by a sudden boner, and the smell of Jordan, one of those guys on the team…gee, he smelled damn good. Really, really, really good, crap. He was throbbing. He pressed his book bag over his crotch, and the pressure made him groan—he glanced around quickly and faked a cough or two. Wiped his nose and shouldered his way through the crowd of kids. God—he had to get to the bathroom fast.
******
All it took was a good hard squeeze and he was coming. He felt the bump swell and shift when he came, and that dropped him right out of the after. He stared down at himself. What the freak was it, and how did he ask if anyone else ever had that happen to them—and who? He groaned to himself. His friends at the moment totaled zero. That only left Dad. Double crap.
He zipped up and touched his belly and jumped. It felt like an electric shock. He looked down and gasped. Geez—he had some kind of bizarre swelling running right down his trail. He looked closer. It was red and raised slightly and looked bad. If it didn’t go away in a few days, he’d talk to his folks. Again—this was an example of how much his life sucked. It was so unfair. Other kids just went to their friends or the nurse or somebody. He only had his parents. Lex for some inexplicable reason crossed his mind. He didn’t know whether to smile or frown. Bet he’d love to take a look at this, he thought sardonically. A smaller voice he generally ignored said yeah, bet he’d figure it out and find a way to help with all this crap…
A few days later he was in the shower, washing up and singing something that was not a show tune, not at all. He attacked his armpits with vigor, and worked his way down, over his nipples, an area he liked to take his time washing carefully. He hummed, his cock twitched a bit and he washed lower, didn’t think about much, just kind of lazy swoops of the washcloth and suds, wondering if Lex had bought a new car and what he was doing, if he ever thought about—damn!
He fell back against the shower and quivered, his cock was hard as rock and pressed right against his belly. He tentatively touched the swollen line he’d run the cloth over a second ago—and his cock slapped upwards and spurt a jet of precome. His knees were shaky, and he touched himself again, running his fingertips lightly over and over it until his neck arched, his teeth ground together in an effort to keep in the scream that struggled to break free. He came so hard he hit right under the shower nozzle; the next few jets hit one after the other tracking down the wall. God.
What was happening to him? He looked down at his softening cock and the bump moved. He stared, swallowed hard—it had definitely moved. Pretty sure it moved…oh God….
******
The next few days passed like a horrible slow motion nightmare. Gym was a nightmare, the hallways were a nightmare. People bumped and jostled him and sometime, they hit him in a way that was nearly disastrous--and felt incredible. He was going nuts. At night, in the privacy of his room, it was completely different. That ridge must be some Kryptonian sex thing…he couldn’t stop touching it. And it was getting bigger, and now when he touched it, it puffed up a little and….
Clark arched up in the bed, shoulders clearing the mattress and come filling the handful of tissues he held over the end of his cock. The ridge throbbed in time with each spurt, and that bump moved each time and it felt like someone had a finger inside him, touching him in a real good way.
He fell back, panting, floating in that happy daze he got right after he came, grinning like a fool. Until he was calmed again, and then he worried. ‘Cause that what he did. He worried.
******
The next afternoon in school, he was walking past the art class and nearly died. He stopped in his tracks. His mouth watered, his nostrils quivered…the smell…something in that classroom smelled delicious. He crept into the empty classroom and sniffed around until he found…clay. It smelled like he had to have some and have it right now. It looked gross as hell, and felt nasty and sticky in his fingers but he had to taste it, and then he had to eat some, and then…and then….
The bus ride home was awful. His mouth felt weird--gluey and gritty at the same time, and his stomach felt like he had a rock in it. Kind of empty and full at the same time. And for some darn reason, every time Jordan looked his way, he blushed. Great. Be more gay, he thought…more gay…the thought was almost a relief. Was that what it was going on inside him? He was gay? Maybe he was experiencing some kind of gay alien thing. He looked at Jordan, stared at him hard, really checked him out, and waited for a reaction. Nothing. Except for Jordan hissing ‘fag’ in his face as he got off the bus. And the instant boner he got as Jordan walked away. What the hell?
******
Clark lightly massaged his groaning belly. Geez. He’d only been home for an hour and he’d been eating non-stop. He was still wandering around the kitchen, looking in cabinets, and so tired his eyes were crossing—and stuffed. So effing stuffed. Between the pound of clay (it had to have been at least a pound), and the chips and the darn ice and the pineapple and the effing green peppers, and oh God he wanted one now *so* bad, if only he hadn’t eaten them all—his stomach moaned, he moaned and then tears popped into his eyes. What the *hell* was his problem?
Suddenly, just like that, he knew. The knowledge was so enormous that he staggered to a chair and fell into it. Oh. Oh. Of course. It was so fucking obvious.
His head fell to his folded arms and tears ran, soaking his sleeves, soaking the placemat under his head. Oh…he was dying. He had some kind of alien disease, and he was going to die. He had a tumor on his privates and life was over. His sobs vibrated in his ears, and the next thing he knew, Mom was shaking him, yelling Clark, Clark.
He lifted his head and stared at her shocked face and it made him cry all over again.
“Mom, Mom, I’m so sorry…”
“What is it honey, what’s the matter, Clark?”
Eventually she had to shake him pretty good to calm him down, who knew Mom had a grip like that? She managed to get some of the story out of him, and called in his dad to get the rest, and then they were finished and everyone sat at the table, shell-shocked.
“Ah. Son, can…do you mind…showing me?” His dad blushed and Clark wanted to beat his head against the table but, “Okay. All right.”
He stood and started to unbuckle his belt and his mom said, “I’ll just go sit in the living room, call me.” She started to walk past him when she stopped, looked. “Sweetie, lift your shirt,” He did and his mom frowned.
“Hmm. That’s really odd. It looks kind of like…” She touched the ridge before he could stop her.
“MOM! DON”T!” He stood as still as possible, bit the inside of his cheek violently and thought of math and dog puke and that warty guy at the gas station who cleaned the bathrooms with an eager smile…his knees shook but he didn’t come and that was a blessing. Everything else was a walk through hell.
“Oh!” His mom jumped back blushing furiously, and his dad looked terribly confused.
“What the hell was---oh. Never mind.”
“Is it like that *all* the time Clark?” she asked weakly.
Clark pulled his shirt over his head and wished for a swift death. “No, it just suddenly… I mean, it’s a little like that but never that…you know.”
She swallowed and leaned forward again. “Clark, there’s a--” She waved her finger around, carefully not touching. “A seam, I think…”
“What?”
“Maybe you should see, check it out carefully, but it seems like maybe there’s a cut there.”
Clark was curious and worried; he hadn’t noticed anything different about it this morning. but it hadn’t been nearly that sensitive in the shower. He blushed. He definitely would have noticed if it had. He went into his bedroom, shut the door and sat on the edge of the bed. He lifted his shirt, pulled it off and dropped it on the floor. He was kind of reluctant to touch himself, he just looked at it first. It was thicker, it was redder, and--he grimaced—he’d cut it somehow, there was a small slice running down the center of it…yuck. It looked like there was something coming out. Maybe it was infected. Maybe that was why it was so red and puffy…he touched it carefully, trying not to get *that way*. Nothing. Nothing happened, no reaction…no hard on, not a twitch. Nothing.
Clark let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and relaxed. Finally. He must be healing. Maybe this was all over and he could rest easy again. Boy, it’d be great to have his life back to normal. He pressed on the ridge, and it gave under his finger, the edges of the cut popped open and his finger sank in.
Hot, wet, what--
After what seemed like forever, he opened his eyes and drew in a long shaky breath, his throat was raw, and he ached all over. He felt warm stickiness under his chin, on his throat, his chest, he looked down, there was come all over his belly, his pants were wet, and his thighs twitched and jumped. The ridge oozed clear fluid and the edges gaped a bit.
Fuck.
What the fucking fuck was that?
What the fuck kind of people sent their alien babies out into the universe without even a note that said hey kid---by the way, some day you’re going to wake up with a pussy in your chest. He shivered and shivered. He felt the muscles in his butt contract, almost flutter, and he nearly screamed--please don’t let it be tentacles, please God, don’t let tentacles fly out his ass! At this point, he figured anything was possible.
He cleaned up—slowly--and wished he could be struck instantly blind when he came downstairs and his parents couldn’t quite meet his eyes. There was blushing, and coughing…Clark’s throat hurt.
He motioned for his dad to follow him out of the room—and told him what he thought had happened. It was a long night. A really long night.
In the morning, the ridge looked a lot less like it had the night before, it looked like…well, normal…it was just a swelling again. It wasn’t open, or oozing, and Clark hardly knew what to think. He’d feel better about it if the swelling in his cock hadn’t moved down though. Now he had a small lump mid-shaft. And he’d noticed lately, it was getting harder to pee. Really hard to pee. And it kind of hurt, burned sort of. He found it helped a little to massage it while he tried desperately not to bite his tongue off, and keep aiming at the bowl. He usually ended up panting, sweating, hanging off the sink and swearing off liquids. If he could shove his arm in a chipper, he could live without liquids.
His eyes filled with tears of frustration and he wanted to throw himself on the floor and cry, and he wanted to beat the crap out of himself for wanting to cry…lumps, burning pee…fuck.
Had he gotten some kind of STD from Lana?
He got something from her—he knew it. She obviously hadn’t been a virgin… obviously. Whitney had been a big popular jock guy, maybe he gave Lana something and she didn’t even know, and he couldn’t even tell her because who knew where the hell she was…maybe Lex? Lex who he refused to talk to anymore…the floor was wet with his tears, snot was dripping from his swollen nose and he wanted nothing more than to—to—eat, Damn he was hungry.
******
Mom and Dad were being cool about his problem. They were being cool about giving him space. They told him they were pretty sure it wasn’t an STD. They seemed pretty sure it was probably something to do with his alien physiology. Great. What a load off his mind. Right.
He snorted, pulled down the covers and lay back on his bed. He pushed down his boxers. Since it was so normal, maybe he might as well take advantage of it. He dropped a wad of tissues on the bed, squeezed a little lotion in his hand and started stroking; enjoying the feel of his fingers skating over his hardening cock. He let his head drop back onto his pillow, and concentrated on feeling boneless, floating. He sighed, and loosened a little more, spread his legs. He rolled his balls in one hand and thrust upward into the tunnel of his other. It felt good. The heat in his groin traveled up, pooled around his navel, got hotter and hotter. He felt the ridge tingle, throb…he touched it and was stunned by the intense shock of pleasure that shot through him. He looked, it was wet—*he* was wet and as he touched himself, he quivered and moaned. Every touch sent shocks of pleasure through him, the seam opened wide, and the building sensation made him push his finger in. It dipped in and out, and then his back was arching, muscles rigid, his cock felt like it was spurting but it just jerked and jerked, and shock waves of ecstasy swept out from under his navel.
So suddenly that he had no time to draw a breath, pleasure turned to extreme pain—pain that made him want to throw up, pain that made him want to scream but he could only gasp desperately for air…the swelling, the bump in his cock, was moving downward. Clear fluid ran out the end and then with one last ripping stab of pain, something oozed out of him, a small globular mass, followed by a rush of watery come. He stared down, panting horrified, frozen…he couldn’t move. The globular thing split open, a thin needle like claw split the little sac it was in. It crawled toward him. Clark was hyperventilating, his muscles twitched and jumped but he was paralyzed. He squeaked in terror, it was worse than any horror movie ever—he was completely frozen, locked in place and about to be eaten alive and from the size of the thing, it was going to take a really long time. Tears clouded his eyes, he blinked wildly and he managed to squeeze a weak, “Mommy.” out of his tight, dry throat.
It was smaller than the tip of his finger and moving relentlessly and horribly quickly, it was moving up his leg and he felt tiny pinpricks on his skin and he closed his eyes and moaned, no, no, no--it was going to crawl back inside him--his teeth chattered and moans leaked out between the gasps for air and he felt something on his belly. He looked down and it was crawling to the open seam in the ridge. He couldn’t move, only his head, his neck responded to his wild attempts to move.
He had a terrifyingly clear flashback to a program on marsupials and started laughing…I’m a possum, a giant fucking talking possum…It slipped inside and the ridge sealed shut…I’m Kanga.
His muscles released all at once and he fell over the side of the bed and vomited until his throat burned. When he could, he sat up and with his eyes and nose running, he gagged as he rolled up the rug he’d ruined, dragged himself down the hall to the bathroom, and tried to throw up some more.
He ended kneeling on the floor of the bathroom, his forehead resting on the edge of the toilet. He was finally breathing normally, he was finally *not* trying to throw his guts up. Even his ribs hurt, every muscle felt like it was pulled to the ripping point. He rolled his head towards the doorway. In a minute, he’d think about what just happened. He’d apply all his brainpower to it. He’d come up with something more reasonable than ‘Kryptonians were naked talking possums.’ He laughed, a short snort of sound. He did it again, and did it again, his shoulders began shaking and he giggled helplessly. He giggled and tried to stifle it and tears began to run, again. He felt a tiny flutter in his gut and the giggles cut off—he stopped breathing for a moment—and began to scream.
******
Ooooh-kaaaay, this wasn’t supposed to happen. This was never supposed to happen. This is mpreg—a theme which personally kinda gives me the heebie-jeebies. Not saying I haven't read some I found fascinating, it's just that I don't seek it out. Plus, you know--babies. not so much the baby person.
but the point is this--it's for Hero.
This was supposed to be a drabble but you know me…
Part one of Roxy Has Lost Her Damn Mind…or the alternative working tile
Whenever Clark thought back to that day, it seemed like it happened a million years ago, the afternoon that changed everything. And when he did he always wondered, if he’d known—would he have done things differently?
******
Those days he’d thought life couldn’t get worse. After the horror of Emily Dinsmore, the collapse of his friendship with Lex, the loss of Pete, he’d felt empty and frightened and lonelier than ever in his life and Lana had come to talk, to say goodbye…and like they sometimes do, things happened.
He could still remember that first kiss clearly, first the touch of his lips on her cheek, she’d stood so still, trembling like a rabbit, and then he’d kissed her mouth, she’d made a little noise. It was so small and meek and went right to his groin. Like every little noise she made, and every little move she made, had a string connected to his cock, and it kept tugging and tugging. She hadn’t stopped, not even when she’d realized he was hard, in fact, she’d rubbed against him, right there, over and over until he begged her please, “Can you touch me, is—is it okay to ask?”
And she’d smiled, and sunk to her knees. Clark thought he’d died and gone to—well, not heaven, unlikely you got blow jobs there that made you feel like your brains were being sucked out the end of your cock…at least that’s what it felt like at the time. It was the best BJ he’d ever had because it was the only one he’d ever had.
And after the two (maybe) whole minutes it took for him to come, she’d pushed him down and blew him until he got hard again and rode him like a pony.
‘God Clark, I missed this,’ he remembered her saying. ‘Please don’t tell anyone, please…’
He’d felt a weird wave of something, not orgasm, not anything he could pin down, it was almost like pain, almost nausea but not.
She’d squeaked. ‘Ouch!’ And stopped for a moment. ‘I’m sorry, I felt a pinch,’ and wiggled in a way that made his eyes roll back in his head and his poor semi-virginal cock couldn’t take the extra stimulation, he came with a yell, and a buck that’d nearly thrown her off the couch.
‘Oh gosh—I’m sorry--did you…’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I didn’t, who had time to? But don’t worry, there’s something you can do for me.’ It ended with her calling out Whitney’s name but in respect, Clark hadn’t mentioned it. They all missed Whitney, after all.
On the day Clark lost his virginity, he’d learned about fellatio, intercourse and cunnilingus. And ass play, but that was kind of accidental. He’d also discovered that love and sex didn’t necessarily come in tandem. He’d never received a word from Lana after she left for Paris. Not a call, or a card, nothing. He knew guys were supposed to be cool with getting sex anyway they could, and sex without strings was supposed to be the best—but he just felt used…kind of like if he’d said no, she wouldn’t have stopped. But that was stupid…wasn’t it?
******
Clark sighed. Now here he was, friendless, girl-less. Loveless. He groaned and rubbed his stomach. It itched all the time. No matter how much cream and stuff he put on it, it itched and if he rubbed too hard it burned.
He pulled up his tee shirt and gasped a little. The skin under his navel was all red, like he’d smacked himself hard--a lot. Crap. He pulled his shirt back down, unconsciously smoothing it flat. Lately his body had decided to go nuts on him. It was bad enough being an alien and not knowing what the hell was going to happen next—sometimes he dreaded waking up in the morning, worried that in the night, maybe tentacles had shot out of his ass. Crap. He stared at his crotch and worried about that, too. He was getting a bump on his cock. In it…he poked carefully at the slight swelling at the base. His cock surged a bit. And it was sensitive. Bad sensitive. Well, bad for being in public. He’d taken to wearing shirts so long he looked like some goofy rapper wanna be, but as long as it covered the boners that sprang willy-nilly…he snorted. Heh. Willy-nilly. He scratched carefully at his stomach and went down stairs to raid the fridge. Again.
*****
Clark scratched off the one hundredth and twenty-second day on the calendar. It had been one hundred and twenty two days since Lana had left and still no call. He idly chewed his way through a bowl of ice and eyed the cabinets. He was pretty sure Mom had picked up one of those party bags of Doritos at the Stop and Shop today. He ate the last piece of ice and sighed. If he didn’t leave for school now, he was screwed. And forget running—he’d tried to speed off to the back fields yesterday and nearly died. Dad had to help him back to the house he had cramps so bad, and then, they’d sat around looking at him, waiting for—for--*tentacles* to shoot out of his ass, damn it.
Clark grabbed his jacket and yelled good-bye, ran carefully to the bus. Shoot. It wasn’t their fault. He understood, he really did. They knew he wasn’t human and anything out of the ordinary he experienced could be…any damn thing. He slumped his way onto the bus and plopped down in the back. Alone.
Pete was gone, Lana was definitely gone, and Chloe and her dad had moved suddenly, so fast that he’d barely had a chance to say good-bye. She’d cried and snotted all over him and disappeared as effectively as Lana had. And not to forget Lex, former best friend and confidant revealed to be a lying bitch, he was nowhere to be seen. Not that he wanted to see him, like he’d told Lex, that friendship was over. That room…it was so…he shivered. And wondered in the back of his mind how much time Lex spent there. And a very fleeting thought wondered what he wore when he was in there…but mostly, Lex was a big fat liar who never even came to see if he was okay after Lana left him--Clark groaned quietly to himself. Why was his inner child a ten-year-old girl given to temper tantrums?
The bus stopped and everyone pushed to get off. He was distracted by a sudden boner, and the smell of Jordan, one of those guys on the team…gee, he smelled damn good. Really, really, really good, crap. He was throbbing. He pressed his book bag over his crotch, and the pressure made him groan—he glanced around quickly and faked a cough or two. Wiped his nose and shouldered his way through the crowd of kids. God—he had to get to the bathroom fast.
******
All it took was a good hard squeeze and he was coming. He felt the bump swell and shift when he came, and that dropped him right out of the after. He stared down at himself. What the freak was it, and how did he ask if anyone else ever had that happen to them—and who? He groaned to himself. His friends at the moment totaled zero. That only left Dad. Double crap.
He zipped up and touched his belly and jumped. It felt like an electric shock. He looked down and gasped. Geez—he had some kind of bizarre swelling running right down his trail. He looked closer. It was red and raised slightly and looked bad. If it didn’t go away in a few days, he’d talk to his folks. Again—this was an example of how much his life sucked. It was so unfair. Other kids just went to their friends or the nurse or somebody. He only had his parents. Lex for some inexplicable reason crossed his mind. He didn’t know whether to smile or frown. Bet he’d love to take a look at this, he thought sardonically. A smaller voice he generally ignored said yeah, bet he’d figure it out and find a way to help with all this crap…
A few days later he was in the shower, washing up and singing something that was not a show tune, not at all. He attacked his armpits with vigor, and worked his way down, over his nipples, an area he liked to take his time washing carefully. He hummed, his cock twitched a bit and he washed lower, didn’t think about much, just kind of lazy swoops of the washcloth and suds, wondering if Lex had bought a new car and what he was doing, if he ever thought about—damn!
He fell back against the shower and quivered, his cock was hard as rock and pressed right against his belly. He tentatively touched the swollen line he’d run the cloth over a second ago—and his cock slapped upwards and spurt a jet of precome. His knees were shaky, and he touched himself again, running his fingertips lightly over and over it until his neck arched, his teeth ground together in an effort to keep in the scream that struggled to break free. He came so hard he hit right under the shower nozzle; the next few jets hit one after the other tracking down the wall. God.
What was happening to him? He looked down at his softening cock and the bump moved. He stared, swallowed hard—it had definitely moved. Pretty sure it moved…oh God….
******
The next few days passed like a horrible slow motion nightmare. Gym was a nightmare, the hallways were a nightmare. People bumped and jostled him and sometime, they hit him in a way that was nearly disastrous--and felt incredible. He was going nuts. At night, in the privacy of his room, it was completely different. That ridge must be some Kryptonian sex thing…he couldn’t stop touching it. And it was getting bigger, and now when he touched it, it puffed up a little and….
Clark arched up in the bed, shoulders clearing the mattress and come filling the handful of tissues he held over the end of his cock. The ridge throbbed in time with each spurt, and that bump moved each time and it felt like someone had a finger inside him, touching him in a real good way.
He fell back, panting, floating in that happy daze he got right after he came, grinning like a fool. Until he was calmed again, and then he worried. ‘Cause that what he did. He worried.
******
The next afternoon in school, he was walking past the art class and nearly died. He stopped in his tracks. His mouth watered, his nostrils quivered…the smell…something in that classroom smelled delicious. He crept into the empty classroom and sniffed around until he found…clay. It smelled like he had to have some and have it right now. It looked gross as hell, and felt nasty and sticky in his fingers but he had to taste it, and then he had to eat some, and then…and then….
The bus ride home was awful. His mouth felt weird--gluey and gritty at the same time, and his stomach felt like he had a rock in it. Kind of empty and full at the same time. And for some darn reason, every time Jordan looked his way, he blushed. Great. Be more gay, he thought…more gay…the thought was almost a relief. Was that what it was going on inside him? He was gay? Maybe he was experiencing some kind of gay alien thing. He looked at Jordan, stared at him hard, really checked him out, and waited for a reaction. Nothing. Except for Jordan hissing ‘fag’ in his face as he got off the bus. And the instant boner he got as Jordan walked away. What the hell?
******
Clark lightly massaged his groaning belly. Geez. He’d only been home for an hour and he’d been eating non-stop. He was still wandering around the kitchen, looking in cabinets, and so tired his eyes were crossing—and stuffed. So effing stuffed. Between the pound of clay (it had to have been at least a pound), and the chips and the darn ice and the pineapple and the effing green peppers, and oh God he wanted one now *so* bad, if only he hadn’t eaten them all—his stomach moaned, he moaned and then tears popped into his eyes. What the *hell* was his problem?
Suddenly, just like that, he knew. The knowledge was so enormous that he staggered to a chair and fell into it. Oh. Oh. Of course. It was so fucking obvious.
His head fell to his folded arms and tears ran, soaking his sleeves, soaking the placemat under his head. Oh…he was dying. He had some kind of alien disease, and he was going to die. He had a tumor on his privates and life was over. His sobs vibrated in his ears, and the next thing he knew, Mom was shaking him, yelling Clark, Clark.
He lifted his head and stared at her shocked face and it made him cry all over again.
“Mom, Mom, I’m so sorry…”
“What is it honey, what’s the matter, Clark?”
Eventually she had to shake him pretty good to calm him down, who knew Mom had a grip like that? She managed to get some of the story out of him, and called in his dad to get the rest, and then they were finished and everyone sat at the table, shell-shocked.
“Ah. Son, can…do you mind…showing me?” His dad blushed and Clark wanted to beat his head against the table but, “Okay. All right.”
He stood and started to unbuckle his belt and his mom said, “I’ll just go sit in the living room, call me.” She started to walk past him when she stopped, looked. “Sweetie, lift your shirt,” He did and his mom frowned.
“Hmm. That’s really odd. It looks kind of like…” She touched the ridge before he could stop her.
“MOM! DON”T!” He stood as still as possible, bit the inside of his cheek violently and thought of math and dog puke and that warty guy at the gas station who cleaned the bathrooms with an eager smile…his knees shook but he didn’t come and that was a blessing. Everything else was a walk through hell.
“Oh!” His mom jumped back blushing furiously, and his dad looked terribly confused.
“What the hell was---oh. Never mind.”
“Is it like that *all* the time Clark?” she asked weakly.
Clark pulled his shirt over his head and wished for a swift death. “No, it just suddenly… I mean, it’s a little like that but never that…you know.”
She swallowed and leaned forward again. “Clark, there’s a--” She waved her finger around, carefully not touching. “A seam, I think…”
“What?”
“Maybe you should see, check it out carefully, but it seems like maybe there’s a cut there.”
Clark was curious and worried; he hadn’t noticed anything different about it this morning. but it hadn’t been nearly that sensitive in the shower. He blushed. He definitely would have noticed if it had. He went into his bedroom, shut the door and sat on the edge of the bed. He lifted his shirt, pulled it off and dropped it on the floor. He was kind of reluctant to touch himself, he just looked at it first. It was thicker, it was redder, and--he grimaced—he’d cut it somehow, there was a small slice running down the center of it…yuck. It looked like there was something coming out. Maybe it was infected. Maybe that was why it was so red and puffy…he touched it carefully, trying not to get *that way*. Nothing. Nothing happened, no reaction…no hard on, not a twitch. Nothing.
Clark let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and relaxed. Finally. He must be healing. Maybe this was all over and he could rest easy again. Boy, it’d be great to have his life back to normal. He pressed on the ridge, and it gave under his finger, the edges of the cut popped open and his finger sank in.
Hot, wet, what--
After what seemed like forever, he opened his eyes and drew in a long shaky breath, his throat was raw, and he ached all over. He felt warm stickiness under his chin, on his throat, his chest, he looked down, there was come all over his belly, his pants were wet, and his thighs twitched and jumped. The ridge oozed clear fluid and the edges gaped a bit.
Fuck.
What the fucking fuck was that?
What the fuck kind of people sent their alien babies out into the universe without even a note that said hey kid---by the way, some day you’re going to wake up with a pussy in your chest. He shivered and shivered. He felt the muscles in his butt contract, almost flutter, and he nearly screamed--please don’t let it be tentacles, please God, don’t let tentacles fly out his ass! At this point, he figured anything was possible.
He cleaned up—slowly--and wished he could be struck instantly blind when he came downstairs and his parents couldn’t quite meet his eyes. There was blushing, and coughing…Clark’s throat hurt.
He motioned for his dad to follow him out of the room—and told him what he thought had happened. It was a long night. A really long night.
In the morning, the ridge looked a lot less like it had the night before, it looked like…well, normal…it was just a swelling again. It wasn’t open, or oozing, and Clark hardly knew what to think. He’d feel better about it if the swelling in his cock hadn’t moved down though. Now he had a small lump mid-shaft. And he’d noticed lately, it was getting harder to pee. Really hard to pee. And it kind of hurt, burned sort of. He found it helped a little to massage it while he tried desperately not to bite his tongue off, and keep aiming at the bowl. He usually ended up panting, sweating, hanging off the sink and swearing off liquids. If he could shove his arm in a chipper, he could live without liquids.
His eyes filled with tears of frustration and he wanted to throw himself on the floor and cry, and he wanted to beat the crap out of himself for wanting to cry…lumps, burning pee…fuck.
Had he gotten some kind of STD from Lana?
He got something from her—he knew it. She obviously hadn’t been a virgin… obviously. Whitney had been a big popular jock guy, maybe he gave Lana something and she didn’t even know, and he couldn’t even tell her because who knew where the hell she was…maybe Lex? Lex who he refused to talk to anymore…the floor was wet with his tears, snot was dripping from his swollen nose and he wanted nothing more than to—to—eat, Damn he was hungry.
******
Mom and Dad were being cool about his problem. They were being cool about giving him space. They told him they were pretty sure it wasn’t an STD. They seemed pretty sure it was probably something to do with his alien physiology. Great. What a load off his mind. Right.
He snorted, pulled down the covers and lay back on his bed. He pushed down his boxers. Since it was so normal, maybe he might as well take advantage of it. He dropped a wad of tissues on the bed, squeezed a little lotion in his hand and started stroking; enjoying the feel of his fingers skating over his hardening cock. He let his head drop back onto his pillow, and concentrated on feeling boneless, floating. He sighed, and loosened a little more, spread his legs. He rolled his balls in one hand and thrust upward into the tunnel of his other. It felt good. The heat in his groin traveled up, pooled around his navel, got hotter and hotter. He felt the ridge tingle, throb…he touched it and was stunned by the intense shock of pleasure that shot through him. He looked, it was wet—*he* was wet and as he touched himself, he quivered and moaned. Every touch sent shocks of pleasure through him, the seam opened wide, and the building sensation made him push his finger in. It dipped in and out, and then his back was arching, muscles rigid, his cock felt like it was spurting but it just jerked and jerked, and shock waves of ecstasy swept out from under his navel.
So suddenly that he had no time to draw a breath, pleasure turned to extreme pain—pain that made him want to throw up, pain that made him want to scream but he could only gasp desperately for air…the swelling, the bump in his cock, was moving downward. Clear fluid ran out the end and then with one last ripping stab of pain, something oozed out of him, a small globular mass, followed by a rush of watery come. He stared down, panting horrified, frozen…he couldn’t move. The globular thing split open, a thin needle like claw split the little sac it was in. It crawled toward him. Clark was hyperventilating, his muscles twitched and jumped but he was paralyzed. He squeaked in terror, it was worse than any horror movie ever—he was completely frozen, locked in place and about to be eaten alive and from the size of the thing, it was going to take a really long time. Tears clouded his eyes, he blinked wildly and he managed to squeeze a weak, “Mommy.” out of his tight, dry throat.
It was smaller than the tip of his finger and moving relentlessly and horribly quickly, it was moving up his leg and he felt tiny pinpricks on his skin and he closed his eyes and moaned, no, no, no--it was going to crawl back inside him--his teeth chattered and moans leaked out between the gasps for air and he felt something on his belly. He looked down and it was crawling to the open seam in the ridge. He couldn’t move, only his head, his neck responded to his wild attempts to move.
He had a terrifyingly clear flashback to a program on marsupials and started laughing…I’m a possum, a giant fucking talking possum…It slipped inside and the ridge sealed shut…I’m Kanga.
His muscles released all at once and he fell over the side of the bed and vomited until his throat burned. When he could, he sat up and with his eyes and nose running, he gagged as he rolled up the rug he’d ruined, dragged himself down the hall to the bathroom, and tried to throw up some more.
He ended kneeling on the floor of the bathroom, his forehead resting on the edge of the toilet. He was finally breathing normally, he was finally *not* trying to throw his guts up. Even his ribs hurt, every muscle felt like it was pulled to the ripping point. He rolled his head towards the doorway. In a minute, he’d think about what just happened. He’d apply all his brainpower to it. He’d come up with something more reasonable than ‘Kryptonians were naked talking possums.’ He laughed, a short snort of sound. He did it again, and did it again, his shoulders began shaking and he giggled helplessly. He giggled and tried to stifle it and tears began to run, again. He felt a tiny flutter in his gut and the giggles cut off—he stopped breathing for a moment—and began to scream.
******
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
5/22/06 02:08 pm (UTC)I shouldn't laugh at poor Clark, he's in pain. *laughs more*
I eagerly await the next part. :D
(no subject)
5/23/06 02:22 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/22/06 02:37 pm (UTC)Your view is so freaking unique! I can't beleive Lana impregnated Clark! Bwah!
But the other parts of the story - Clark's aloneness and his terror and dispair are so achingly real, it makes me hurt for him.
Damn girl, you're writing a real MPreg story here. More, please?!
(no subject)
5/23/06 02:25 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/22/06 02:56 pm (UTC)We're gonna have to kill this one and bring Lex to do the job right, you know that, right?
*grins*
Heee, My Roxy writing MPreg, I'm LOVING it!!!
:D
(no subject)
5/23/06 02:25 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/22/06 03:06 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/23/06 02:27 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/22/06 03:11 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/23/06 02:27 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/22/06 03:37 pm (UTC)Heeeeeeeeee!!
OMG, poor Clark!
:)
(no subject)
5/23/06 02:28 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
5/22/06 03:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/23/06 02:29 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/22/06 04:24 pm (UTC)He had a terrifyingly clear flashback to a program on marsupials and started laughing...I'm a possum, a giant fucking talking possum...It slipped inside and the ridge sealed shut...I'm Kanga.
HAHAHAHA! Awwwwwwwww!!! Poor Clark.
(no subject)
5/23/06 02:31 pm (UTC)Clark needs some hugs, poor baby. I'll see what I can do about that.
(no subject)
5/22/06 04:46 pm (UTC)Is it weird that I want to read more??
(no subject)
5/23/06 02:31 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/22/06 05:25 pm (UTC)So that's a longwinded way to say that I love this story as a piece of Clark characterization, but I also really like the way you've kind of extended the metaphor that SV uses about Clark's powers. Ordinary mpreg stories tend to focus a little on how pregnancy alienates a person from their own body, but you've really done it SV style in a way I haven't seen before. Here, pregnancy is literally alienating, and I love the way you've conveyed the horror of Clark's experience of transformation.
(no subject)
5/23/06 02:44 pm (UTC)Which is my long-winded and entirely too personal way of saying, I kind of think he should be experiencing this horror, poor thing.
(no subject)
5/22/06 06:43 pm (UTC)*dm swallows and tries hard to hold down her lunch*
I don't usually like mmpreg so I'm hardly an expert on the form, but I think that this one is... ah... unique.
It's like a car wreck you drive by on the freeway.
You don't want to see but you can't help but slow down and take a closer look...
(no subject)
5/23/06 02:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
Posted by(no subject)
5/22/06 07:14 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/23/06 02:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/22/06 07:15 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/23/06 02:47 pm (UTC)*hugs the babybee*
Baby! What? *looks all innocent*
(no subject)
5/22/06 07:34 pm (UTC)IS DED...cries while laughing, hilarious does not cover it close!!
DAMN; chocolate truffle, where is the TBC!!!111111
*I am going to repost this at ff.net under a pseudonym!!BWAHHHHHHHH!
(no subject)
5/23/06 02:48 pm (UTC)Oh, there's always more in Roxyland. *G*
(no subject)
5/22/06 08:48 pm (UTC)...okay, so not the *exact* reason, but risk of STD or pregnancy are darn good reasons (seriously, it's so unbelievable that Lana never slept with Whitney. Bullshit on that, Smallville).
This was quite disturbing, which is what I'm sure you were going for, so, mission accomplished. Clark really needs Lexy to help him or make him feel better or be the daddy or *something*.
It's too bad Clark is a geek and all of his friends left and he didn't get sucked into the wall to lie there naked for the summer, otherwise he'd have people to talk to.
But really, if you slept with Lana would you want to let anyone know?
(no subject)
5/23/06 02:49 pm (UTC)Right? Deep dark secret time! Poor Clark!
(no subject)
5/22/06 10:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/23/06 02:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/22/06 11:56 pm (UTC)That was...actually, I don't have the words to do it justice.
So, where's the next part?
*refreshes flist hopefully*
(no subject)
5/23/06 02:51 pm (UTC)Oh, there will be more....*evol Plankton laugh*
(no subject)
5/23/06 01:12 am (UTC)(no subject)
5/23/06 02:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/23/06 02:04 am (UTC)(no subject)
5/23/06 02:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/23/06 02:26 am (UTC)Poor possum!Clark! You are evol! I think p!Clark is going to need some brainy!Lex help figuring this one out as Clark's brain is clearly melting... I can't wait to see what happens next...
(no subject)
5/23/06 02:52 pm (UTC)you know me so well, my darling!
(no subject)
5/23/06 04:49 am (UTC)(no subject)
5/23/06 02:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/23/06 06:08 am (UTC)PS, don't leave us hanging! :D
(no subject)
5/23/06 02:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/23/06 08:19 am (UTC)(no subject)
5/23/06 02:54 pm (UTC)Priceless!
5/23/06 11:31 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/27/06 04:23 pm (UTC)I never, ever, ever thought I would get to a place where I could consider myself a connoisseur of m-preg, but I was just thinking, "Oh, wow, Roxy has created an entirely new way of creating and carrying manbabies. Go her." And then I had to take a moment and calm down because apparently I am not only a connoisseur of m-preg, but I also become really, really excited by new ideas in the genre.
And? You are glorious and perfect in every way. I thought you should know.
(no subject)
5/27/06 06:07 pm (UTC)