How The Hell?!

Alienated Affections

"Sir, you should really go to med bay and get checked out." What was with all these soldiers and telling him to go to med bay? He felt fine! He wasn't even missing for a day and they're all acting like he was captured by the enemy.

"I have said numerous times that I am perfectly fine, I did not ask for the peanut gallery to give commentary. Go back to your station and stop slacking off." He turned on heel, walking to his office to catch up on some of his paperwork. He could hear the whispers and feel the stares on his back. It wasn't like it was new to him or anything, it'd been happening for the past three months at the least. Stepping through the door to his office, he leaned back against the door trying to catch his breath. His normal pace and manner of walking was difficult to proceed with in his… condition. He really couldn't blame the soldiers for being worried, especially with the shape of his body changing so quickly. But he has a feeling that there wasn't anything to worry about.

'If only there was a way to get everyone off your back about it.' He knew that the only way they stop bugging him would be to go to med bay, but that would take too much time and he was extremely busy. In fact he had three meetings he needed to attend later on. Stepping over to his desk in a more comfortable way, he sat in the chair as well as he could. He must've been there for a few hours, finishing up with whatever paperwork had been given to him. His back ached from sitting for so long as well as the weight pulling his torso down.

'The first meeting isn't for another half hour. What to do in that time? I've already finished the paperwork and cleaned my desk…' Using the surface of the wooden desk to push himself up out of the chair, he felt his gut shift as it hit against the edge of the dark oak surface. Well that didn't feel nice. Maybe it was about time to heed the worry from his entire command and go to the med bay.

Stepping across the floor towards the door, he felt something force him to the ground. Using his mechanical arm to hold against his stomach, his fear spiked as he felt whatever was inside him that also forced him to the floor nearly thrashing in his gut.

Okay, he admits that they were all right to encourage him to go to med bay. He was an idiot for not trying till now of all times.

Letting a low groan leave his throat, he flinched as whatever was in him hit hard against his skin. Dragging himself back to his desk in hopes of calling for someone, he practically ripped his uniform buttons open to get the thick fabrics off. His legs were of absolutely no help, not wanting to move properly. And it wasn't like he could reach the ties on his boots easily. So that led to him sitting under his desk, coat, sweater and tee off as he used both arms to spread his legs enough to lean forward and not press into his stomach. He didn't like whatever was in his gut and causing all these problems, but he didn't want to risk it causing anything else to happen.

Throwing his boots across the room one at a time, he leaned back against the wood of his desk, breath coming in short pants. That took way too much effort. Reaching under his gut, he took a second to get his belt off before unbuttoning and shoving off his pants. Those ended up halfway across the room too. Now, with only his boxers on, he could not only feel the rough shifting, but he could see it too. Each press outward making a small bump in his skin, he'd be intrigued and all if he wasn't in so much pain. This entire thing was giving him vibes of a movie he watched years ago, and he wasn't sure if he was alright with those implications.

Managing to open one of his desk drawers and grab one of the pocket knives he shoved his boxers off his hips. He was about to carve himself open before whatever was in him ripped open his skin, when in shock he dropped the knife as he felt fluids leave him at another sharp pain. Glancing between his legs as best as he could, he could see the sheen of clear fluids mixed with electric green across the wooden floor, blood dripping into the puddle from his leg. So that's where the knife went.