One Bad Mother
rating: +126+x

The Conception

Dr. Kald and Dr. Mann waited in the main chamber of 542's new accommodations, sitting in the lush chairs they had arranged for their charge.

It had taken them months to get access to 542, months yet to be made co-chairs of his case. They had wheedled and pleaded for the best accommodations for 542 they could from the Foundations. It had been worth it.

Dr. Mann purposely did not look at Dr. Kald. He glanced at the clock on the wall, and at the old-fashioned radio (really an MP3 player with Chirurg's favorite songs loaded into it), and occasionally at the set of medical encyclopedias lining the walls. He looked everywhere in the room except at the door to Chirurg's bedroom (he looked away bashfully) and at the other doctor (he looked away pointedly). Kald just glared at Mann.

They had both fallen for the old doctor. His wit, his charm, his large collection of organs… What wasn't there to love? So they had both done their best to woo the SCP, maintaining as much secrecy as they could (though surely the Foundation must be aware of their torrid affair). They had spent many fascinating hours with Herr Chirurg, drinking the finest wines, speaking of philosophy and art, and performing impromptu surgery on each other. It was bliss.

The only wrinkle was the presence of the other. Each wanted Chirurg for himself. Sharing was inconceivable. And tonight, they each secretly hoped, Chirurg would make his decision, and they could finally know if they had his love.

Finally, the door opened, and Chirurg stepped out. The two doctors savored his stooped gait, the delicate artistry of his scars, and the grace of his fingers as they caressed the doorknob.

"Ah, my darlings," the old surgeon said, a fond smile on his lips. "Tonight is a very important night for us. I have an announcement to make."

The two doctors held their breath. Surely their time had come at last. They both were certain that the other… the interloper would get their comeuppance at last.

"This is not a decision I come to lightly. It has taken a great deal of thought and soul-searching. However, I believe that I have come to a decision that is right for me. That is right for… us." Chirurg paused and cleared his throat, like a patriarch making a declaration before the entire family. "I have decided… we should have a child."

Dr. Kald blinked. "Vas?"

"Er, could you repeat that?" Dr. Mann said, unsure that he'd heard correctly.

"A child. A baby. My darlings, I think it is time we started a family." He sighed, long and heavy, his distended ribcage slowly expanding and contracting. "I have been so long without my dear Isabella, but I think she would want me to move on after all this time. She was good to me, but that was long ago, and it is time to think of the future."

"Ah. Well," Dr. Mann said. "That's… a large step, isn't it?"

"Ich…Ich mean, I yam honurrd, but… how?" Dr. Kald said.

"Ah, I thought you might ask that. It will be difficult, but we can do anything through the healing power of Science!" Chirurg said. "Now, let us consummate our love through microsurgery and genetic engineering."

"To the laboratory!" Dr. Mann said, his heart engaged by the old surgeon's enthusiasm.

"Vith all doo chaste," Dr. Kald said, momentarily forgetting his rival in the warm presence of his darling.

Within moments, the microsurgery tools were set-up, the genetic samples unfrozen, and the mysterious beakers and flasks of colorful fluids were bubbling merrily. Dr. Mann and Dr. Kald were happily splicing away at DNA.

"Now, we will take fifteen chromosomes from my darling Everett, fifteen from my beloved Josef, fifteen from myself, and one from my lost Isabella." Chirurg began the delicate process of combining the DNA into one complete set. It was a delicate process, requiring a steady, unwavering hand. His thin, multi-jointed digits went to work with a will, slowly wending their way into the very stuff of life, until he had completed his chromosomal work.

"Gentlemen," he said to his beloveds, "We have combined our genetic material successfully. Now we must raise it to gestation."

"Chow shall ve prosheed?" Dr. Kald asked.

"An artificial womb? A surrogate?" Dr. Mann suggested.

"No, no, that would spoil the magic of it," Chirurg said. "It must be one of us."

"Ah… perchaps Dr. Mann vud like ze honor?" Dr. Kald suggested.

Dr. Mann shook his head. "No, no, I couldn't. You should do it, Dr. Kald. I insist."

"Ah, I know my little darlings are so eager to make each other happy. But there can only be one womb. So… I will flip a coin. Heads, Mann, tails Kald." Chirurg reached into his pocket, pulled out an old, tarnished Deutschmark, and flipped it upward. The three of them watched as it spun, catching the light, and then landed with a sharp ringing.

Dr. Mann walked out with a certain heaviness of heart, saddened that he would not, after all, have Chirurg to himself. However, at least he had the consolation that he wouldn't be the one to carry the child. He had too much to do. He didn't have time to be a working mother.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't notice the dark shape sneaking up behind him, not until he felt the sharp jab of the needle as it slid expertly into the meat of his buttocks. He started to turn, but then the world turned to cotton balls, and he thought it best to lay down and close his eyes.

When he woke up, there was a soreness around his lower regions, but given certain of his experiments, he thought nothing of it, and kept on with his day. It was over a month before the morning sickness began, and he realized what had been done to him.

Month 1

Dr. Kald was relaxing with the perfectly preserved body of a six-year-old when he heard a skittering in his room. He looked around, but didn't see anything. He shrugged, and began a new incision.

"Hello," said a voice. Dr. Kald looked around. It had sounded like Dr. Rights, but she was no where in sight.

"Bastard," said another voice. It sounded like Agent Yoric. But still, he didn't see anyone. He held his scalpel a bit tighter, for possible use as a weapon.

Suddenly, there was a pain in his leg. "Zum donnerwetter!" he said, spinning around. Then he fell as the leg collapsed from under him. He saw a crab scuttling away. Then another moved at him from the side. He lashed out with the scalpel, but it only bounced off the crab's carapace, and it scored a tiny cut on his wrist. His hand went limp. Others moved in, and he found himself quickly disabled with surgical precision.

"That's good, my little friends," Dr. Mann said, stepping into Dr. Kald's field of view. "That's right where I want him…"

Dr. Kald could only seethe inwardly as Dr. Mann began the transplant.

Month 2

Dr. Mann was sitting in his lab, happily reading the latest copy of Resurrectionist's Monthly (much better than that rubbish in the Gravedigger Times) when he heard an odd hissing sound. He looked around, trying to locate it. It seemed to him that it was coming from somewhere overhead. He started to walk over to his office to call maintenance when he detected an odd odor. Then he noticed his nose feeling a bit numb, and realized something was wrong. He was halfway to the door before he collapsed.

Dr. Kald walked in with a scalpel and a smile.

Month 3

Dr. Kald was writing a report on his latest research. It had been going well enough, though he was starting to grow bored of it. There was hardly any dissection or vivisection at all involved in the work. He sometimes thought his talents were being squandered. He licked the tip of his finger as he flipped the page. He paused. There was something off with the taste. He looked at the paper, seeing if perhaps he'd spilled something on it, or on his desk. Yes, there seemed to be some discoloration. He wondered what it might be, and whether it might have something to do with the purple kangaroo that had inexplicably shown up his lab.

As Dr. Kald explored better living through chemistry, Dr. Mann (showing some extra weight) made his way into the lab with a grim look and the autoscalpel humming.

Month 4

Dr. Mann was enjoying a good bath. The bubbles were just the right consistency and color (a sort of lime green) and he had his rubber ducky, Rinaldo, with its round doctor's reflector on its forehead. He began singing some of the better songs of the BeeGees, enjoying the bathroom's acoustics. Then he removed his snood for some basic mustache care. First he washed out the wax, letting the curls go from his whiskers, and then wetted them thoroughly. This accomplished, he took the bottle of mustache shampoo and opened the lid. As he did, there was an outrush of escaping gas. "Oh, bother," he said, as he passed into unconsciousness.

Dr. Kald stepped into the bathroom, a determined look in his eye.

Month 5

Dr. Kald was sitting in his room, waiting for something to happen. He'd known for weeks that Mann was coming sometime. It was inevitable. His only chance was to be prepared. He'd hardly stirred from his room for a week, waiting, just waiting for Mann to make his move.

There was a knock at the door. Dr. Kald narrowed his beady eyes. "Wer da?" he asked.

"Delivery," said the voice on the other side. It didn't sound like Mann…

Dr. Kald opened the door to find nothing but a large baby carriage. He looked around. There was no one in the hallway. He wondered if Mann could really think he was that foolish.

Five minutes later, he had his gasmask on, as well as gloves and a heavy coat. He wasn't about to let Mann drug him again.

He swept back the blanket on the pram to uncover what sort of mechanism powered the trap.

Dr. Mann, in swaddling clothes and a pacifier, kicked out, taking Dr. Kald in the chin and knocking him straight out.

Dr. Mann began to prep for surgery.

Month 6

Dr. Mann whistled as he pulled on the rubber gloves. It was time for a routine dissection. It was so fascinating to find out just how an SCP had killed someone. Had their kidneys liquefied? Their blood spontaneously released its oxygen? Or had their nervous system vanished entirely? It was always a delightful puzzle.

The corpse today seemed a little bloated, though he'd been told the man had died very recently. Bloating normally took several days. However, there was some clear distension in the belly region. Dr. Mann made a note of it, and then looked over the corpse's other features, marking down the lividity of the face, the color of the fingernails, the way the corpse's eyes kept spinning several inches out of their sockets. Finally, he got ready to make the incision.

As the skin slid open, a large boxing glove on a spring shot out, hitting Dr. Mann square in the face and knocking him onto his back.

Dr. Kald waddled into the morgue, glaring at the body of his rival.

Month 7

Dr. Kald walked down the hallway, wondering why he'd been summoned by Dr. Clef. He didn't want to leave the safety of his room, but he wanted even less to miss a meeting with the senior doctor.

He opened the door, and found himself in the dark. He stepped forward a few feet, and then the lights came on.

He was standing on a bullseye painted on the floor. Around him, there was an odd collection of machinery and assorted contraptions. Ramps, conveyer belts, slides… It went on and on.

A marble dropped into a chute, where it slid down to a spiraling tube. Gravity propelled it down to an escalator, which deposited it onto a conveyor belt. This in turn fed it onto a miniature Ferris wheel, which brought it onto the top of a ramp. The marble slid down until it landed on a small metal dish. The sound of this awoke a mouse, which began running on a wheel. The wheel cranked a small pulley, which turned on a treadmill. A dog tied to the treadmill began to run. After a moment, it began to pant. A CO2 sensor turned on, triggering the start of an engine. The engine turned a belt which spun a fan, which blew a balloon over to the other side of the room. The balloon reached a lit Bunsen burner, and popped. The force of the pop knocked over a delicately balanced book, which then knocked over another book, and another. The books (a set of encyclopedias, from what Dr. Kald could see) fell like dominoes, continuing on a long shelf that seemed to end just over Dr. Kald's head. He peered up to see what was at the end of it. It was large, round, and, he suddenly realized, precariously balanced. He realized it was a bowling ball only as it started to fall, and it was too late to move.

Under the blanket of Dr. Kald's concussion, Dr. Mann worked.

Month 8

Dr. Mann was walking down the hallway when a very pregnant Dr. Kald hit him over the head with a clipboard. He turned with a triumphant grin. "I thought you might try that, so I protected my skull with a layer of carbon steel and foam!"

"Did hyu protect zese?" Dr. Kald snarled as he kicked Dr. Mann in the crotch.

"Oh, Britannia!" he cried in pain, collapsing to his knees.

Dr. Kald kicked him again in his chest. "Hyu blasted Englisches Schwein!"

Dr. Mann rolled with the kick, regaining his feet. "Big-nosed child-botherer!" he shouted as he aimed a punch at Dr. Kald.

"Hoossy!" Dr. Kald said, grabbing Dr. Mann's mustache.

"Home wrecker!" Dr. Mann said, grabbing Dr. Kald's hair.

"What is this?" said Chirurg softly, looking out the window of his chamber door.

"Oh, Chirurg!" Dr. Mann said, suddenly releasing his grip on Dr. Kald's hair.

"Ve vere just…" Dr. Kald began.

"I could see what you were doing," said Chirurg. "And it makes me very sad."

Dr. Mann and Dr. Kald looked at each other, abashed.

"But I know what is wrong," Chirurg continued. "It is obvious. Come inside."

"Yes, Herr Chirurg," the two doctors said. They entered Chirurg's antechamber together. Chirurg bade them sit, and then made tea for them.

"It is clear what is causing this strife," their paranormal paramour said. "Obviously, you both want to carry our child. I should have thought of this before. I should have known it would cause strife."

"Er…" Dr. Mann tried to think of a delicate way of explaining that Chirurg was wrong, but failed.

"But don't worry," Chirurg said with a smile. "Papa has a solution. Trust in me." He held up a scalpel. The both of them realized that they were feeling more tired. It seemed they weren't the only ones who could play with soporifics…

Month 9

"Oh god!" Dr. Mann screamed.

"I haff never known zuch pain!" said Dr. Kald.

"Push!" shouted Dr. Geier, from her position at their feet.

Herr Chirurg held their hand, looking proud and just a little bit worried as the delivery went on. After several fevered moments, there was a final push.

The infant (which looked human if you squinted right) was placed in their arms for the first time.

"Hold it oop ay lizzle higher," said Dr. Kald.

"Move the bottle a bit," said Dr. Mann. "He can't drink properly like that."

"You two make a lovely mother," said Dr. Chirurg, admiring his handiwork. It had taken a great deal of work to get two heads to function on one body. The body had to have sufficient bloodflow to support two brains, and sufficient oxygen introduced into the blood. But it had been worth it to make his darlings happy, and to give him the family he had longed for. He beamed.

The infant fell asleep, safe in its mothers' arms.

Dr. Agatha Rights

X:/Foundation/Personnel/Rights/Work/Boring Stuff/Extremely Normal Files/Nothing to See Here/Fiction/Slash/SCPs+Staff/Chirurg/One Bad Mother.txt

To: Dr. Agatha Rights
From: Dr. Bright
Re: Your Files

Dr. Rights, while your stories are fascinating, please keep them off of the Foundation servers in the future.

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