Biological Conflict: Installment 5 by @batkaren

 

Read part one here

Read part two here

Read part three here

Read part four here

My father passed when I was fifteen. At seventeen, I knew it was time for me to reproduce, and to begin the training process anew. A Hunter’s lifespan is sadly not long

I went to a queer bar downtown and met a gorgeous boy. His pretty face and skinny body dazzled me. I told him there was absolutely no worry of my becoming impregnated, which was true, because it was in fact my goal, not my concern. And I certainly had no intention of ever worrying him with a child. We had sex in the back bathroom; I bent over the sink and he took me from behind. Despite what I’d read about pain the first time, I found the experience quite enjoyable. I left sticky with his ejaculate, clenching my kegels to keep his seed inside me.

Luckily, I was young and fecund, and the fertilization took. Unluckily, I very quickly rode low and heavy, and my hunting abilities became impaired. During the seventh month of my pregnancy, I had an encounter with an Affected wherein I was knocked down. I then watched as my attacker’s teeth grew, ready to sink into my flesh. I was still somehow able to kill it, but I retreated back to my apartment deeply shaken. Something was happening to my body’s chemistry. My most cherished and taken-for-granted gift of odorlessness had abandoned me.

I could no longer rely on this trait to protect me, and I still had ten weeks until my child was born. Aside from food deliveries, I mostly remained barricaded in my apartment. But while the internet had begun blossoming by this time, it was not yet in full bloom. There were necessities that required me to occasionally emerge,

In my eighth month, the taps in my building shut off, and I had to stock up on bottled water. I tried to make the shopping jaunt a quick one, but of course an Affected found me. By then, I felt as though my smell had become a beacon, perhaps more powerful than most humans. At least my lack of ability to smell in return allowed me to keep my wits. I fought as powerfully as I could, but I was so large by then, you’d have thought I was carrying a four-year-old.

The resulting expulsion of all my innards naturally included the gift I’d been carrying in utero. When I finally regained consciousness in that back alley, I was covered in my own entrails, and my thirst was already kicking in. But I saw the two cooing babies and knew I had to get my premature darlings to an ER. There was one boy and one girl, or at least that was their physiology – I have no idea how either has since chosen to identify. I managed to find a nearby hospital and left my disgusting bundles of joy out front by the ambulances. Most newborns are slathered in biological detritus, but I think mine may have truly repulsed the on-duty emergency medical staff. Aside from the copious smears of fecal matter, they would have also recognized the tissues from myriad internal organs. God only knows what they thought became of me.

Forgive me all my ramblings, but I have finally arrived at my point. I’ve made it my task these last seventeen years to document all the information conveyed to me by my own father. A book to compile, explain, and detail the knowledge acquired by centuries of Hunters.

I’ve done this, because I know you’re out there. I’ve begun sensing you two, the way I used to sense my own father when we would hunt together. Your biological instinct clearly kicked in – you need to kill the Affected. I can feel it in you, just as I can feel you coming for me now. You must be so confused by everything, which is why I wanted to include this explanatory preamble. I simply had no idea it would take me so many weeks to complete. I’d have preferred to communicate verbally when you arrive, but my tongue recently crumbled to powder in my mouth. It had been nothing more than a thick flap of sandpaper for years, but I never thought I’d miss it so much. Not nearly as much as I missed Fleck after she died, of course, but still…

Everything has become so challenging. My once quite formidable brain fails me more often than not. One of my eyes has been reduced to crumbs, and the other’s vision is painfully dim. I just want it to last somehow until you get here so I can look at you, my beautiful children, just once. I hope you’re as pretty as that young boy from all those years ago. I hope my arms can make it too, so I may hold out my manuscript when you arrive. So I might even touch you, perhaps, and you’ll know that I’m your father.

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