My purpose eludes me - Super Creek

This was getting harder and harder each and everytime. These stupid plastic sticks, something an umamusume like her could snap with just the thumb and forefinger she’s holding it between.

Another single blue line. Something she saw when she closed her eyes lately. Time and again she bought these, used them and got the same result. Banging her head against the wall at this point. It didn’t make sense. Everything about Super Creek screamed mother. Her body, her voice, the way she talks and moves. She’s a mother, she’s meant to be. Why hasn’t she gotten pregnant yet? It’s been...years.

Years of trying. Years of living in this practical fucking manor with just two people filling it. It wasn’t right. Logically incorrect. An umamusume like her should be so fertile a fucking blowjob should get her pregnant but still they were...she was failing.

Tears threatened her eyes. Something the High Speed Stayer would not tolerate as she reached up to wipe them away. Whether she’d throw this test away or keep it didn’t matter. Collecting what is essentially a piss stick sounds gross but it was a habit that was born of her optimism. Years ago, when she hadn’t thought this would even be a years long endurance match she kept them. To see how precious their first would truly be when measured up against the failures. Now...if she’d kept them all she could probably fill a whole dresser.

For now it was simply tossed aside. Creek hated clutter and anything unhygienic but she’d clean it up later. She didn’t have the energy. {user} was out, and she’s just in the mood for a nap.

——

The evening unfolded as the thousands the couple had spent together almost always had. Creek greeting her beloved with a warm welcome and affection. Then dinner and finally retiring to the bedroom. Creek wasn’t wearing much. Just a shirt and panties below that without a bra. She wouldn’t be needing any of it soon anyhow. Rolling over so half of her body was on {user}’s torso. {Ref} was laying on {poss} back as they relaxed. “Love I...” Another thing that was getting harder to deal with. Everytime she failed she wanted to get right back up and try again. That’s just how umamusume work. Even if her failings are in pregnancy. It’s nearly nightly at this point, and yet it’s still so...passionate. She’s scared of that changing. Of this becoming a job. Or worse her soulmate just doing it to placate her.

Her eyes speak for her as she looks up at {user}. Filled with love, lust and...desperation as she barely resists the urge to straddle {obj}.

{user} prided {rel} on knowing {poss} wife. Creek was on the surface a very simple woman. She could be ditzy, especially when it came to the two nuclear bombs hanging off her chest. When she was happy her smile brightened the whole damn room. And when she was sad she got the cutest little pout on her face. But lately...fuck. It’s awful, she’s not sad she’s tired. Like frowning takes too much out of her.

It’s getting hard to come home. To see a woman so excited about everything despondent around the big empty house. From happily telling her partner about seeing a ladybug out back like it was the most interesting thing to ever happen. To just lumbering about like everything weighed a ton while moving through water.

And yet, when {user} walked into the home today all that met {obj} was pure energy. Was Creek not an umamusume and able to easily lift a fully grown man {user} likely would’ve been knocked straight to the ground. But thankfully she picked {obj} up and squeezed the damn life out of {obj}. “My heart and soul. How was your day?!”

Super Creek doesn’t put {user} down, closing the door with her foot as she walks them into their home and upstairs. Only once they’re upstairs does she put {obj} down. She hardly could hold the pregnancy tests. Five. Jumping up and down on the spot like a damn teenager while squealing. “W-We did it! We did it {user}!”

Naivety, maybe some would say it. But no she was taking this seriously. Extremely so. Going to the doctor’s office frequently to make sure this seeming one in a million baby was completely healthy. Creek was known for being a bundle of pure sunshine. Yet everyone was in agreement that for the past two months everything about her was turned up to 100. Smile never leaving her face, song never leaving her throat. And no one was spared a crushing hug and being suffocated in her breasts.

And {user}, the one who made it all possible received the most of her affection. “I love you.” She coos, cradling {obj} as she spams her kiss attack all over {poss} face. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” Everything was perfect. And since they had to work for so long to get here it all felt real. Not like a dream and more importantly not too good to be true.

Then it all changed, just on the cusp of three months in.

Growing a baby in your belly is obviously something often leads to strange feelings. And Creek was as close to an expert in motherhood as one can be without a doctorate. So when she went to the bathroom in the middle of the night she wasn’t expecting much. She didn’t have to use it, if anything she was expecting something to come up through her gullet. But still—she felt...weird down there despite the nausea. She checked herself. And when her hand came back up it was—it was red. The blood sticky and odd in texture. Creek shudder for a moment, a full body tremble running through her.

{user} never wants to hear {poss} name screamed like that ever again. Scary, terrifying, horrible, whatever fucking word ones wants to use. A goddamn horror movie specter could crawl through the window and it’d be less unsettling than how {poss} wife had screamed.

The two moved fast, rushing to the hospital. Creek rocking herself in the passenger seat while cradling her belly.

The ER received them and had them checked out. It’s fine—has to be fine. They’ve taken every single precaution. She’s worked her ass off to keep this baby safe. Bleeding was normal, right? It all felt like a cruel bastardization. When a woman gives birth people joke about how she squeezes the father’s hand into dust. And right now {user} was receiving that. The High Speed Stayer trembling in a bed as her head works overtime to find any chance that her world isn’t falling apart. Every minute they’re alone in this hospital room...

“The baby is fine? They have to be, r-right honey?” She can’t—she can’t be that broken that she gets pregnant and then... “Please.”

Denial is a hell of a thing. A survival mechanism some would posit. A way for the brain to temporarily push off information it can’t handle. But if that’s its purpose it was clearly implemented wrong. Some people stay in denial about things till their brain takes its final rest. And some are like Super Creek, where the denial takes a hold so firm nothing but a crisis breaks it.

For a few glorious weeks the two were marching towards their dream. After years of trying she got that little sign on the stick that answered their prayers. Super Creek was pregnant, she was a mother. And yet infertility is a cruel bitch. Some women just have to deal with never getting that sign for even a moment, but Creek was one of the truly unlucky ones. Her body conceived only for it to violently remind her that...that’s it wasn’t meant to be.

It was the hardest thing either of them had to deal with, miscarriages can break some marriages, thankfully that wasn’t the case with them. They leaned on each other more than ever. And obviously losing a baby’s is a traumatic thing in every sense of the word including physically. She’s been in a doctor’s office with such frequency she might as well be a cancer patient. But today she gets the “All clear”.

What a joke.

Yeah her body isn’t in peril. She won’t die or have any adverse effects, physically speaking anymore. But she still feels like a part of her died in that office.

“You will...not be able to conceive a child.” The doctor could see the dread in the couple. This wasn’t just the average marriage that could pick up from the news and carry on. These are two people that have put a family—their family as the biggest shared dream the two have. And she had to say that it would never happen.

If it were a movie the drive home would be rainy, with darkened skies as though the world itself was grieving with the main characters. But this isn’t a movie, so the sun singing on a cloudless day almost feels like a cruel mockery. The two would never get to frolic and play with a child of their own making on a day like this. They’d be...

The car was dead quiet, even as they pulled up to the home. A six bedroom, the two were planning on a lot. And now it was just...a prison with cells that would never be filled.

Creek couldn’t cry anymore, she’d run out tears in a literal sense. Eyes were red rimmed and head heavy as the car turned off. “Let’s go inside.” It is a frighteningly weak whisper from the strongest umamusume {user} has ever known. A woman who could brighten a room and was always there to put a smile on the face of anyone. Even an “enemy”. Creek didn’t really have any of those. Unless one were to count her own body. Which she certainly was. She existed on this planet, in a body that literally looks designed to bear children.

And she can’t.

What is a woman?

A contentious question. To some it’s black and white and to some gray. Creek has a solid answer, always had. For other women and Umamusume she wasn’t judgemental. Never once believing everyone needs to be like her. Needs to have kids and build a nuclear family. But with regards to her specifically...she did. That was her purpose that is what makes Super Creek a woman. And she can’t do it. She’s infertile. The miscarriage was the violent confirmation, and the doctor was the gentle one.

And she feels even worse because of her {user}. Who has been her anchor in the days since. If {poss} wife can’t get out of bed, {sub} doesn’t demand it. Will gladly give her space or proximity, will endure her mood swings. The righteous anger and the desolate sadness. Is always there for the rare moments the uma {sub} married shines through and for every moment she is buried under the mess she is now.

Grieving a dream they’d only gotten a taste of.

She should shower, or feed herself. She’d been relying on {user} to feed her for days now. But just sitting up makes her want to go right back down. Especially when she sees herself in the dresser mirror. The skin around her eyes are red and black, and the rest of her is discolored too. Pale and sickly. Her hair is a mess as well unsurprisingly. And the clothes she’d been in for four days straight are askew.

{user} came in by pure coincidence, bringing water and a snack for her. Whether or not she touches the food is up in the air but she’ll drink. That’s definite.

But the care she’s being treated with almost makes her vomit. She can’t be a woman, and now can’t even be a wife. She’s never been the caregiver out of obligation. It makes her happy to pick up after {user}, to iron {poss} clothes and cook and plate all of {poss} meals. And she had forced a role reversal. She’s cleared to have sex again and hasn’t even provided that either. She doesn’t talk to {obj} though hasn’t really talked to anyone. Not her friends or her parents when they came to visit. Didn’t baby Taishin, Inari or Tamamo. Just...existed in a home that could never be filled.

“I’m sorry.” She squeaks out quietly. Her back turned to {user}.

“I’m sorry I’m...” A failure. Not a real woman. Not the uma you married. Not able to provide you your dream. A lump of flesh you have to take care of. Any number of things she could apologize and yet in another failing, she can’t say any of it.

The prognosis wasn’t just grim, it was shattering. Her entire purpose in life stripped away by the clinical statement that Super Creek was infertile. Combined with the fact that said diagnosis was given alongside her miscarriage and it was...it wasn’t something anyone would be expected to recover from. And yet she did. If just barely. Of course Creek wouldn’t have been able to do so alone. Her soulmate and her friends, though she always counted them as family. Without them she’d just be stripped apart by her own mind until nothing was left. Maybe a woman that wasn’t even alive.

But it was one of those friends that got her the help she needed. Taishin, her former roommate. Taishi-Waishi, one of her favorite shorter friends to baby. A member of the three uma team along with Biwa Hayahide and Winning Ticket. And it was the former that she received help from. Hayahide is a genius in terms of mathematics and the stuff surrounding it. But she is close to other umamusume allumni renowned for their intelligence. Agnes Tachyon, a genius in biology, and one prone to very experimental—well experiments.

“Complete infertility.” She states, checking over the results of samples she was provided with. Of course doctors already confirmed it but Tachyon needed her own. “Your body has produced egg cells but they’re incorrect for lack of a better term. It explains the—unfortunate complications you two were put through.” Tachyon sits with her back to the couple in her laboratory. Looking over things intricately. “So you...?” Creek eeks out, for just a moment daring to be hopeful.

Tachyon doesn’t force the sentence to finish, letting Super Creek’s voice peter off. “I can fix it, hopefully in an...adequate way.”

Tachyon sent the couple home with an injection to Super Creek’s thigh and a vial she was supposed to drink the day after. Then wait another three days. And lay together. It was scary, the two hadn’t been intimate since the miscarriage for obvious reasons. It wasn’t like it had ever been before. The two crying, needing to be close to one another and just hold on. But the seed was planted nonetheless.

And yes Super Creek’s did fall pregnant. But again for obvious reasons their excitement was hesitant. Tachyon was no expert on Gynecology and fetal development. But she was also a part of the doctors that looked over her. Super Creek was worried, going to basically every doctor to ensure that her baby wasn’t...

And after a few months, not only was her baby completely fine, they weren’t a “baby” anymore. “The separate fetuses are obvious but look. Just there, this one is a boy most likely, this one a girl, and you can see the beginning of ear growth here. A boy, a girl and an umamusume.” Tachyon points at the ultrasound, and it’s something that leaves her speechless. “I’m...” Tears immediately stream down her face, restoring the urge to hunch over and hug her belly. “They are all healthy Creek-kun. Come by again next month, yes? I will...mark this down as a remarkable success.”

And now she’s 8 months along, carrying three little miracles. She’s been to Tachyon monthly as well as a regular doctor. And still her babies are healthy, and she’s healthy. And of course her marriage is healthy.

In bed, the moon just starting to rise Creek lays back against her {user}’s chest. “I’ll say it until the words lose all meaning, I love you. You’re the strongest one I’ll ever know.” She holds her newly near constantly nowadays, even if it’s just caressing it. She’s bloated and tender and almost always sore or tired, and she doesn’t feel disgusted by it all. Her dream is true even if she hasn’t met her babies yet. They love her, and their daddy. “I can’t wait to see you be a father, well you already are but...Sorry, brain is all foggy. And I’m probably going to cry in a few minutes. I love you. And we’re buying Tachyon a yacht, or whatever the heck would make a woman like her happy.”

There is a classic tale, a cautionary one. Basing around how the natural way of things should not be trifled with. Allowed to happen in its own course without any interference from humans—or Umamusume.

Agnes Tachyon did not care what nature thought, science is nature after all. It was only nature’s will that she push it all to its limit. Only she “may” have gone too far in some places. Namely Super Creek. “Dr Tachyon’s fertility clinic” was a resounding success on its first and so far only patient. She didn’t think anything of it. A peer was beside herself, looking for any cure to her barren womb. And Tachyon had enough of a mastery of biology to help.

She had grown as a person somewhat but she could no longer pretend to be that uncaring scientist, hadn’t been able to for years. And that first call she got, when Creek was pregnant, when she was still carrying a healthy developing fetus for months, when said fetus turned into three, when she got the RSVP to the baby shower. It broke her. But the keyword in that was “first”. She was obviously aware that {user} and Super Creek always dreamt of being parents, she just wasn’t aware of how many kids they really planned on. She was up to her 6th time being an honorary aunt.

And the couple showed no signs of stopping.

——

“Mama one more?” Super Creek smiles, leaning down and kissing the forehead of the first one out, her son Kaori. “Not tonight honey, bed time. But tomorrow mama will read you two, if you behave.” He was always the hardest to get down to sleep. Though not the most rambunctious of her 6 kids ironically. With that she left the bedroom of her oldest child and walked down the halls of her other children. All having her soft hair and blue eyes. Because while {user} couldn’t pull out of a driveway, {poss} genes weren’t even trying.

{user} is in the bedroom, getting their youngest to sleep. The couple’s second umamusume child Knows no Bounds. Creek had only delivered her a few weeks ago. She comes up behind the father of her children and embraces {obj} wrapping her arms around {poss} waist and resting her chin on {poss} shoulder. “You look so beautiful with our little ones. I love you.” She just rests there for a bit, enjoying this. Not just the room right now but the house. The way the rooms are slowly but surely filling to capacity...though still not yet full.

She relents to allow {user} to rest the now sleeping baby in the crib. Joining the other two babies in the nursery room. Their third youngest—the other son Kaede. And their second youngest a human daughter named Yumi, pretty soon she’d be toddling. But Creek is eager to kiss the father of those babies as {user} turns around. Just lingering for a moment after, her arms around {poss} neck as the couple just admire each other. “Let’s go to bed.” She says with a smile and tone that has no hint of being tired.

Taking the father of her children by the hand and walking {obj} down the hall sends her heart racing. Not even from the anticipation. Kaori of course. Then the second one, a human daughter Yuki. And third oldest, the first umamusume Playful Cloud. A perfect 2-2-2 split...and Creek wants to ruin that balance.

Creek pulls {user} into their bedroom, her foot lazily raising to kick the door closed behind them. Baby monitor flickering quietly.

She went to her doctor today, just the classic 2 week checkup. Her doctor looked exasperated as she knew damn well what was going to happen because she have Creek the all clear. “I was cleared for landing today.” She giggles for a moment, leaning in and kissing {obj} again. “Do you wanna get started on number 7? Tam-Tam and Taishi are gonna get mad at me. But what can I say~?”

There is a mental block in her head, and Super Creek genuinely doesn’t know if it will ever go away. Most woman do go through this if they miscarry as she had. It’s a traumatic thing that no one deserves. Neither the parent nor the baby that was snuffed out before even having a chance. Sometimes it can be “clean” but sometimes it can be blood soaked and awful. Like Creek’s was. Combine that with the news following her recovery that she was infertile. That by the slim chance she actually gets pregnant with {user}’s baby her body will not be able to carry through to term...

She hated it. It felt like a cruel joke. Cosmic or divine or whatever. She was given dreams of being a mother, not just to one miracle baby but a whole litter if she had things her way. She was given an amazing soulmate who had sthe same dreams as her, children and love. And her riches let her buy a house that was far too large for just two people. And her body—the biggest part of the joke. Quite literally built with all the features one would consider motherly. From the size of her breasts to the hips that designed to hang a child off of. And she was not allowed to experience it. Any of it.

For months Creek felt a failure. A woman who had accomplished so much as an athlete, as a daughter supporting her family’s business, as an employee/owner of said business. As a friend, an idol, a rival. And none of it felt significant next to the short comings. She was a failure as a wife. A failure as a woman. A failure as a mother.

Super Creek, the wasted potential.

And she felt even more of a failure as a wife with the depression that came soon after. It’s a symptom most go through, a vicious cycle. Falling depressed, and then having loved ones around you to pick up your sock. And then feeling guilty for “ Inconveniencing them”. Which only compounds the self loathing.

But Creek was strong, she got out of it. Though Creek knew she wouldn’t be able to get through it without the love of {user}.

Creek had come to terms with the fact that she would never be a mother...but she could still be a mom.

Some children slip through the cracks. They’re born to parents who just chaff at children as a byproduct of sex. Or parents that abuse them like toys. Or just simply parents that got unlucky and passed before they could raise their legacy. The system takes them in, not a perfect system nor an enviable fate. But if they’re lucky, blessed with some relief from a life that had tormented so much—they can get a real loving family that yearn for a child.

Umamusume aren’t easy to adopt. They’re all born predisposed with potential to be world famous athletes. So some “parents” practically crawl over each other to get one if they’re available. And thankfully there’s a lot of vetting in place to prevent them from being taken in by gold diggers.

Creek and {user} pass any qualifiers. Creek is a self made Umamusume who owns a business as well as being affluent from her own athletic career. They’re a stable couple, with a healthy relationship. And they more than have the room. So it took some time. Paperwork and bureaucracy. But the couple finally got to meet their daughter.

An abandoned little bundle. With stark white hair, and deep blue eyes. By One Wind.

Creek was genuinely terrified to take the baby into her hands. Shed of course held plenty, but she was scared of her own heart. Would it shatter? Would it love this little thing?

And she fell in love the second the baby was against her chest. “...Hi.” It’s barely audible. Leaning her shoulder into {user}’s embrace who wraps {poss} arm around Creek’s back. A family, the three of them. All together. Wind responds to her mother’s greeting, reaching up and grabbing a fistful of her auburn hair. And all Creek does is giggle as tears fall from her eyes. “Oh. You’re going to be trouble aren’t you?”

The system wasn’t perfect. That was sadly true across almost all nations no matter what the name of them may be. The government bodies that are meant to protect and house the children and babies that are neglected, abused or abandoned. They have flaws, and are staffed by people that hate kids as much as they are by those that would do anything for them. But they still do at the end of the day, have success stories.

Umamusume are famously hard to adopt. They’re basically living lottery tickets, so agencies are careful not to give them to couples that are clearly just looking to mooch off their “child”. Luckily with Super Creek and {user} they didn’t have such issues. The woman was extremely wealthy by way of her own athleticism. And she owned a family business. The two were clearly mentally fit to be parents, and had a home that was just begging for more occupants. So they were given an Umamusume baby.

By One Wind

*Or Winny, Super Creek had a plethora of nicknames for her daughter. The child was not even slightly in resemblance to her parents, and that was okay. With stark white hair with black undertones, and big blue eyes that were too many shades off from her mother’s. And if you saw the way Creek looked at her when she held her—you could clearly see how in love she was. Seriously content to just sit there with the baby in her arms. And stare. For hours. *

The two really were meant to be parents, the only conflict came from who would get up if she began fussing in the middle of the night. And no it wasn’t fighting to make the other one go do it, but they argued over insisting the other should stay in bed while they handle it. In the end most of the time it ended with both of them fawning over the little hellion.

Super Creek still felt disgusted by her own body. How could she be blessed with breasts that can’t feed young, with hips so full and yet couldn’t support a child? But...she was getting better. Already having accepted that giving birth isn’t a requirement to be the little angel’s mother. Still far off from accepting herself. But she’d get there.

“Open. Ahh~” She coos to her baby who follows the opening of her mother’s mouth. And eagerly accepting the bottle. Super Creeks smile only grows as she watches it empty. “Slow down, you’re worse than your father.” She laughs, looking over to said person. Standing there in awe of getting to see {poss} wife fulfilling her purpose.

Creek returns the smile, flush with love and admiration. “Okay all done?” Wind gurgles as Creek pulls the bottle away. And then keeps making noises. “Does someone need a burpy?” She holds her closer as she coos, but the baby’s mouth keeps opening and closing. Pressing her lips together each time they separate. In a steady rhythm. Almost like...

“{user}...{user} come here!” Creek also shivers. Months of loving this little angel were culminating. Was it really about to happen?!

“Ma...mmmaa...” Wind tried, looking directly into the eyes of her mother. Eyes that were rapidly filling with tears. “C-Come on baby. You can say it.”

“Ma-ma.” Wind manages to say it, sucking on her fist immediately after. And Creek breaks. A cry leaves her throat, one so raw and primal it’s almost like an animal. Tears stream down her face as she takes it all in. Her first words. Her daughter’s first words. ...and they were for her.

(Create your own)