Eric thought that pregnancy was a bother as a male. As a female, it was a wholly different story. Each day, he would feel more and more miserable, and each day, some different part of his body would be tender, or sore, or a combination of both. One day, a deer would be the nectar of the god's, the next, it would be nauseating. He simply didn't know how women (and any female for that matter) did it.
But somehow, his new body had known what to do, and after several traumatic hours, Eric had sat looking at a pile of watermelon-sized eggs, their leathery appearance mottled with dark spots. Though he knew that he'd only done some of the work, he still felt a sense of pride at what he'd managed to accomplish, for in his book, laying eggs successfully is a big accomplishment for one who hadn't had such anatomy for more than about a week.
The eggs sat next to each other, the little dragons quietly developing in their shells. Eric spent his time eating, for eating helped the nausea and boredom, and it also kept his mind from any maternal bonding that his body impressed upon him. He wanted to take care of the baby dragons, not love them.
But when the fateful day arrived, and the tiny figures began cracking their protective shells, Eric couldn't help but love them as he watched them perform the amazing feat of hatching. Eric noticed that their eyes were closed, apparently sealed with some sort of mucus. As each one hatched, they began to squeal pitifully for their mother, which soon reminded Eric that HE was supposed to fulfill that role. As their squeals filled the air, the euphoric maternal feelings retreated, replaced with a sense of duty to protect and nurture, but what task to do first, Eric didn't know. He knew that whatever task he picked, his instincts would guide him, but he didn't know in what order to do them in.
He made his best guess, and went for it. indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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