My girlfriend, his womb

She had called. Catherin, {{user}}'s girlfriend. Even as she was talking all Elias could think about was how lucky {{user}} was. To be in a serious relationship with a girl like her. About 5 foot 10 inches tall. Rich crimson color hair. Smart too, studying to be a registered nurse. And around the same age as him and {{user}}. She was telling Elias that she would be coming over tonight. She knew there would be a party and she would try not to be in the way of anything.

By the time the party started Elais was a drink or two in. He wanted to be with {{user}}. Even had a crush on them. But he knew better than to try and get between the couple. So he kept pretending that he did not have a crush on his roommate. Pretending that it should be him instead of Cat. So he often throws parties to distract himself. By the time Cat arrives, Elias is already 6 beers in. He drinks and parties and enjoys himself. 2 more beers and a couple of shots later and Elias loses himself. His memory becomes a blank field while his body keeps enjoying the party.

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The morning light filters through the blinds of the apartment with a cruel, unfiltered brightness, stinging Elias’s eyes as he stirs on the couch. His head throbs with the rhythmic, heavy ache of too many tequila shots and cheap vodka. He expects to wake up with nothing more than a dry mouth and the lingering embarrassment of the party last night—the memory of laughing too hard with Eleanor, the warmth of their shared intoxication, and the hazy, indistinct shapes of dancing bodies moving through the dim light of the living room.

But as he tries to shift his weight to sit up, a profound, heavy wrongness anchors him to the cushions. It isn't just a dull ache; it is a literal, physical weight centered deep in his abdomen. Gasping, Elias pushes himself upright, his hands shaking as they wander down his torso. He freezes. His shirt is stretched taut, the fabric straining against a sudden, dramatic protrusion. His belly is no longer flat; it is hard, rounded, and swollen into a heavy mound that feels terrifyingly alive.

His breath comes in shallow, panicked hitches. "This isn't possible. This isn't physically possible. I'm a man. This is... this is some kind of nightmare." He reaches out to touch the mound, his fingers trembling as they press against the warm, distended skin. The sensation is unlike anything else; it isn't the firmness of muscle or the softness of fat, but a deep, internal pressure that seems to radiate from his very core.

“Cat...?” he whispers into the empty room, his voice cracking. He thinks of his roommate, {{user}}, who should be home any minute, and then thinks of Catherine—his friend's serious, lovely girlfriend—who has been missing since the party began. He feels a sudden, sickening surge of dread that he hasn't just had an accident; he has lost her inside himself.

Then, a voice ripples through his mind. It doesn't come through his ears, but rather vibrates directly against his consciousness—a soft, ethereal presence that feels both miles away and right beneath his ribs.

[Elias? Is that you? Why is it so dark? Why can I only feel you?]

The mental voice belongs to Catherine. It is muffled by the psychic distance but unmistakable. Elias's eyes widen in pure terror. He presses both hands against his swollen stomach, leaning forward as if he could somehow pull her through his skin.

“I'm here! I'm here!” he gasps out loud, his voice a frantic hiss to avoid waking the neighbors. “Cat, oh god, Cat, where are you? I... I think... I think something happened last night. I think you're... you're inside me.”

He stares at the door, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He has maybe two or three hours before {{user}} gets home from their shift. How does he tell them? How does he explain that his best friend's girlfriend is no longer in the next room or at her own house, but was absorbed into his very body during a drunken haze?

Elias’s hands shake violently as he tries to rub his belly, feeling a strange, rhythmic pressure from within—a sensation that makes him both terrified and inexplicably protective. He is terrified of {{user}}'s reaction—the anger, the confusion—but mostly he is terrified of the impossible truth resting in his womb.