Author: NamarieLorien (email@example.com)
Pairing: Craig Parker/Karl Urban
Warnings: mpreg and humor. Starts out a little gross, but trust me, it gets better. Oh, and don’t read this with any liquids in your mouth as I can’t be responsible for any ruined monitors or keyboards.
Disclaimer: I do not know, nor have I ever met, Mr. Parker or Mr. Urban. I mean absolutely no disrespect to either of these fine gentlemen. This is only intended to provide a little entertainment, and hopefully a few laughs.
Author’s notes at the end.
Word Count (according to MS Word): 703
Written for the lotrips_fqf challenge. rawiyaparand asked for “Karl/Craig Mpreg!” I hope this fulfills that request.
Craig rubbed his eyes and looked at the alarm clock. “2:37am” glowed ominously in red in the otherwise dark room. Wondering what could have awakened him at this ungodly hour, he looked over to see that the other side of the bed was no longer occupied by his lover Karl. The unmistakable sound of vomiting suddenly echoed thru the room. Quietly Craig padded to the bathroom, gently pushing the door open. There he saw Karl leaning back against the side of the bathtub, breathing hard, holding a wet cloth over his mouth. Kneeling beside his unusually pale lover, he gently stroked Karl’s hair.
“Luv, you’ve been sick for over a week. Isn’t it time we called the doctor? You can’t keep going on like this.”
Karl’s response was to throw his head back over the toilet and again empty his stomach.
“Mr. Urban, I must be honest with you. I’m at a loss here. You don’t have a fever, and your vital signs are normal. I cannot find anything wrong with you. I’m referring you to an allergist and an internist. Hopefully one of them can solve this mystery for us.”
In the following weeks Craig accompanied Karl to so many doctor appointments that he felt they were living in waiting and examination rooms. Poor Karl was poked, prodded, punctured, forced to give buckets of blood to vicious, sadistic, blood-thirsty nurses wielding sharp needles and rubber ties, and asked to pee in enough little cups to fill the Mines Of Moria!
With every doctor they got the same answer, “We can’t find anything wrong with you, Mr. Urban.”
In the meantime, Craig and Karl noticed that Karl was developing a slight “beer-belly”, although nothing even close to beer had passed his lips in a couple of months. Just the mention of beer sent Karl running to the bathroom. His moods fluctuated between excitement and tears. He cried while watching toothpaste commercials, if Craig looked at him with anything other than a smile on his face, and many times for no reason at all. And if that wasn’t enough, his eating habits took a decidedly strange turn. Sweet pickle omelets for breakfast, pb&j plus curry sandwiches and garlic ice cream for lunch, sardines and chocolate syrup on toast for dinner. The early morning bouts of worshiping the porcelain god ended at about the same time the new food preferences began.
And Karl’s stomach just kept getting bigger.
Meanwhile, somewhere in the Sandwich Islands…
“Dr. Frankenweenie, sir, there has been a break-in at our storage facility.”
“What is missing, Nurse Ratchett?
“The rum-flavored male pregnancy serum, sir.
Roughly seven months after we began this journey…
“Craig! Craig!” Karl’s agonized screams filled the house. Craig rushed to the bathroom where he was met by the sight of his now-very-rotund lover standing in a puddle of what appeared to be water, but smelled more like rum..
“Karl, luv, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know! I was brushing my hair and all of a sudden I felt something weird in my gut, and before I could even move, all this water came gushing out of me. Craig, what’s happening to me?”
Before Craig could even think of a reply, Karl doubled over in agonizing pain.
“Craig, help me, please!”
Hours later at the hospital…
“Push, luv! That’s it! Just a little longer!”
“Mr. Urban, we’re almost there. On the next one I want you to bear down as hard as you can, alright?”
“Craig, when we get back home, I’m going to kill you! YOU DID THIS TO ME! Unnngggg…” Karl’s rant was rudely interrupted by a killer of a cramp.
“That’s it, Mr. Urban, push hard!”
“Mr. Urban, Mr. Parker you have a son!”
Suddenly, a strange voice was heard in the delivery room.
“Unhand me, you scabrous dog! And, if you’d be so kind, where’s the rum?”
There in the doctor’s arms, wearing an insane grin, was none other than Captain Jack Sparrow!
Craig bolted upright in the bed. “Holy shit!” he muttered.
Next to him, Karl mumbled sleepily, “What’s wrong, luv?”
Moaning, Craig answered, “Bloody hell, I’m never drinking rum again! You’ll never believe the dream I had…..”
Disclaimer #2: I do not own the character of Captain Jack Sparrow. He belongs to Disney. His special appearance here is for comedy purposes only. No money is made from this, so pretty please, don’t sue me.
Author’s Notes: I intended to write a more serious story when I first set out, but the little plot-tribbles insisted that this had to be funny, which I hope it is. I admit that this has not been beta’d, but I did use the spell-checker on MS Word. Neither Word, nor I, know the correct spelling of “scaburous”, so if anyone else does, please let me know and I’ll fix it. And, please forgive the cross-over with POTC, Captain Jack just popped in and insisted on being included.