CHAPTER 107: CORY IS PREGNANT

No, I am not pregnant.

I woke up to the feeling of being ran over by a truck, gasping for air and trying to reclaim my life. My stomach, throat and back of the skull were already staging a coup before I even got out of bed.

"Gurg... OEEEEEEEEEH."

I barely made it to the bathroom before I was hunched over the toilet, puking my guts out. My throat burned, my ribs ached, and my head... God, the headache after being choked was indescribable, I can feel foam congulating at the corner of my mouth and my arms popping out of its own socket.

I felt like the goddess had given me a migraine from hell, pounding behind my eyes, stabbing down my neck.

I stayed at the toilet bowl there longer than I wanted to, cheek pressed against the cool porcelain rim, spitting bile until it was just dry heaves.

The smell of toilet water mixed with acid made things worse, it’s like having a sore eye and swimming in a clorine-filled swimming pool.

My vision spin, but dragging myself upright wasn’t much better.

A few minutes ago, I did try and fight the inevitable of life and made an attempt to enjoy breakfast... Yet the moment I staggered out to the hallway, the sharp scent of lemon cleaner hit my nose, and I immediately gagged, stumbling back into my room like some hungover rat.

"Am I pregnant from lesbian toodaloo? Is this what they called morning sickness?" I whispered as I felt a bit better and just laid face-first on the bedsheet.

Breakfast time came and went, I heard some random voice outside my door, knocking a few times and asking if I’m okay.

"I’m having a headache, I can’t leave bed, please go on without me, I’ll be fine... Blurg..."

I couldn’t even think about getting out of bed this morning, reminds me of that one Dido song... But this decision to not leave the room all day would mean, to my unsatisfactory, Anshur had to be the one to bring my food, since she’s working under me after all.

Anshur opened the door with a new maid outfit, tray in hand and obvious irritation shown in her eyes. She closed the door with her feet, which, I don’t think is appropriate.

"Your breakfast." She set it down by the nightstand without looking at me.

And by the way... I’ve uninstalled my hidden camera, I think what she explicitly confessed last night was enough evidence.

Eggs, buttered toast, sausage links, and some pretentious glass of pressed orange juice... Perfectly balanced and perfectly nauseating, I smiled brightly, the steam coming off was easing my mind, and it was heartwarming just thinking about putting these into my mouth.

"You know, Anshur... If you’re gonna keep covering my mouth when we do this whole... whatever this is," I waved vaguely in her direction as I sat up straight, "Then it’s not gonna work. I can’t call the damn safeword if you’re smothering me."

Anshur gave me a flat look and a casual shrug.

"You asked for it." She said.

That dismissal stung almost as much as my throat.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I only wanted to hurt you, and you pushed for a sexual relationship for your personal gratification and to relief your lust for something unique. While any sane human being would attempt to escape or make the rational decision to not interact with their aggressors... You are a disgusting human being, Cory Jay Smith. But of course, I will respect the safeword."

She leaned in to my ear.

"If you can say it."

She turned on her heel and left before I could snap back, tossing only one last instruction over her shoulder:

"I’ll be back in an hour for the tray."

... All the meanwhile, I just sat there and stared with a frown, utterly confused.

"That literally defeats the purpose of a safeword!" I shrieked painfully.

The door clicked shut, and I slumped forward, staring at the tray.

The smell and the idea was good, I enjoyed looking at a freshly cooked, warm hot meal for breakfast... But I tried, for my own sake, to put some of it down. But good food still didn’t stand a chance against erotic asphyxiation hangover.

By noon, my toilet bowl was an art gallery of scrambled eggs, sausage, and last night’s dinner all churned together in a mess that made me gag just looking at it.

I flushed like 5 times today alraedy, the water bill’s accountant must be fuming... Rich people have their accountant on these stuff, right?

I think I’ll ask for some milk when Anshur come around again.

By afternoon, the Sonders must’ve noticed how unease I was and made some chicken soup for me... Nice people, I ain’t deserve these angels.

I thought maybe gaming would distract me. So I crawled into the pod, to try and do something in game, maybe grind a bit to ease the boredom.

The lid sealed and the pressure in my head skyrocketed when the sleepyness kicked in, like someone was inflating a balloon inside my skull, it pressed against the back of my skull, stuffed up my nose and scratched against my throat.

I ripped myself back out the moment the log out screen even loaded and ended up puking harder than before.

The rest of the day blurred into a cycle of bed-to-toilet, toilet-to-bed, gulping down milk, feeling just a tad better, puking out said milk. My body was weak, wrung out like a wet rag.

"Cory?"

By evening, I heard Hailie’s voice outside my door.

"Hailie? Hey, I can’t open the door right now... You can come in."

And she did, with Gerald pushing right behind.

"Oh... Are you not feeling well today, Cory?"

"No, I think I hit my head or something... I can’t join you today, dear."

"Oh... Okay! Um- I’ll call our doctor and get you checked tonight, okay?"

I paused for a second.

"Yeah, that’ll be nice, thank you!"

After a few more questions, Hailie left, she was probably off to farm with her ridiculous team full of DPSes and no tank... That thought made me chuckle weakly, even if it hurt.

Me? I had nothing better to do. So I dragged my laptop over and opened up Tweak, fingers trembling over the keys, I searched to see if that tall girl, uh, what-her-name... RinaWenswood? Was streaming today.