I Wanna Scream 'I Love You' From The Top Of My Lungs (Peterick Mpreg)

What's The Prognosis? (Chapter 5)

(A/N hai tharr. So I'm failing science with a 62 whoops grades go in like in a week and how am I going to bring my grade up like 25 points. Bro I'm scared. ILY. ~Samantha~ PS I WAS IN HISTORY AND SOMEHOW WE GOT INTO THE DISCUSSION OF THE MALE UTERUS THING MY TEACHER IS LIKE THEY CANT DROP EGGS SO THEY CANT HAVE BABIES. I LAUGHED AND SAID SOMEBODY FOUND MY WATTPAD. Everyone knows they can't get pregnant. It's a fan FICTION. Whoops.)

*Pete's POV*

"Oh god," I said under my breath.

Patrick and I came downstairs to see my concerned mother.

"Check this out," she points to the TV.

I looked at the TV to see the church lot on the news. It's gone. Givhans Baptist Church is gone. Patrick and I looked at each other, and then looked back at the TV. Our mouths were in a perfect 'o' form. It was hard not to laugh, but I was able to maintain a believable seriousness and concern. After a while, I kinda felt bad. Oh, well.

*Four Weeks Later* *Patrick's POV*

I woke up feeling horrible. I ran to the bathroom an ended up puking not only in the toilet, but a little bit around it.

"Patrick?" My mom asked. (Wait is that even a question ~Sam~)
"What?" I said, throwing up once more.
"Are you alright?"
"Obviously not."

My mom guided me to the couch and put a trash can beside me. She brought me water and something to settle my stomach.

"My back hurts," I complained.
"Lift up your arm," she said, sticking a thermometer in my armpit. "Hm, no fever."
"It's just a stomach bug, it'll be gone by the end of the day."
"Hopefully."

*Next Day*

I threw up, once again. What the hell is wrong with me?

"I'll make an appointment with Dr. Jeovie," Mom told me. (Hehe Jeovie is my doctor whoops sorry not sorry. ~Sam~)

A few minutes later, she came back to me. She rubbed my cheek and said, "You have an appointment at four."

It was already three, so I guess I should get ready now. I trudge up to my room and threw on clothes. I'm sick, I'm gonna look horrible.

"Patrick! C'mon sweetheart!" My mom yells from downstairs.

I slowly walked up to her. She helped me walk to the car, I was that uneasy. My mom didn't play any of that dumb Christian music, it was silent. Which I liked. Once we pulled up, it's already 3:55 so we're perfectly on time. The office had that strange smell of cleanser and latex gloves. Gross.

"Patrick?" A nurse called.

My mom and I stood up and followed her to the room.

"Dr. Jeovie will be here in a few."

My back hurts really bad, and that's a symptom of a fever. That I don't have. Again, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?

"Hi Patrick," Dr. Jeovie said, walking through the door. "Alright, what seems to be the problem?"
"Well, he's been throwing up a lot," she started.
I cut her off, "And my back hurts really bad."

He started typing on his laptop. "Mm-hm. Have you had any sexual contact in the last-- month or so?"
"He wouldn't do anything like that," my mom stated.

I gave a fake, sarcastic laugh.

"PATRICK!" My mom yelled. "We will talk about this later."

I can tell my mom is infuriated with me. I'm so dead.

"Okay, well, I'll be right back," Dr. Jeovie said. He came back a few minutes later, "Patrick, can I talk to you out in the hall?"

I swallowed hard, nodded, and headed out the door.

"Okay, Patrick. So there's this rare condition. That very few men have in the world. It's where a male is born with both reproductive parts. Patrick, you are pregnant."
"Woah, woah, woah, wait. Are you serious?"
"Yes. I don't know if you want to tell your mother or not, that's why I pulled you out here. Do you want to tell her?"
"Can you do it? I'm afraid she'll kill me even harder if I do it."

He goes back into the room, and after a few seconds I hear a loud: "WHAT?!"

She storms out of the office, physically dragging me with her. The car ride was an awkward silence until she started ranting.

"I can't believe you! You're sixteen! What do you think your father will say?"
"I don't know."

I sighed as we pulled up to the house. What is he going to say? I start to get out the car.

"Wait--" my mom said. "I'm still angry at you, but I'm sorry I snapped at you."

Oh, so you're mad at me, and are most likely to disown me, but you're sorry for yelling? Like that makes sense. I rolled my eyes and continued out the car.

"What's the prognosis?" My dad asked as I walked through the door.

(A/N oh my. Oh my. My friend is blowing up my notifications on Instagram help me. ILY. ~Samantha~)