Chapter 1: Drawing Straws
The hum of the holodeck was a constant, low-grade vibration beneath the more immediate scent of sterile surfaces and warm, recycled air.Lieutenant Dr. Glen Campbell stood before the two ensigns, his hands clasped behind his back. The simulated medical suite around them was all soft blue light and smooth curves, a birthing bed at its center looking both inviting and intimidating with its array of silent monitors.
“The theory is essential,” Glen said, his voice calm and measured. “But obstetric medicine is about touch.About pressure. About an intuitive understanding of forces you can’t see.” He gestured to the bed.“Today, you move from observers to participants. The program will simulate, in accelerated time, the full third trimester and delivery sequence.One of you will experience it firsthand. The other will assist.”
Ensign Suri Laren nodded, her sharp Bajoran eyes taking in every detail of the equipment.Her posture was rigid, disciplined. “Hands-on training is the most effective.”
Beside her, Ensign Tessa Marlowe shifted her weight, a nervous smile playing on her lips.Her freckles seemed to stand out more under the cool light. “So, we’re having a baby today.Figuratively. Which one of us is, uh, figuratively pregnant?”
A dry smile touched Glen’s mouth. He produced two sealed hypospray casings from a tray.“One contains a neutral saline solution. The other triggers the endocrinological cascade to initiate the simulation’s physiological bonding.The program will handle the rest. Short straw gets the full experience.”
Tessa laughed, a quick, warm sound that cut the tension. “Old school.I like it.”
They drew. Suri’s straw was a clean half-inch longer than Tessa’s exposed end.Tessa stared at the stub in her hand.“Well. Okay then.” She looked at Glen, her bravado flickering for just a second. “Does it hurt?”
“Discomfort is part of the simulation. Pain modulation is set to seventy percent of actual biological feedback. It’s enough to teach respect for the process, not so much that it’s punitive.” His blue eyes held hers.“You can withdraw at any time, Ensign. A safe word halts all sequences. That is paramount.”
“I’m good,” Tessa said, her voice firming up.She walked to the birthing bed and sat on its edge. The material gave slightly, molding to her form. “Let’s do this.”
Glen picked up the active hypospray.“You’ll feel a warmth, initially.A flush. The program builds gradually, but on an accelerated timeline. Minutes will represent weeks.” He pressed the device to her neck.It hissed.The change began almost instantly.
A deep, rosy warmth spread from Tessa’s core outward, like a sip of strong brandy. She let out a soft, surprised breath.Her skin prickled with sensitivity. The fabric of her standard-issue uniform, which had fit perfectly minutes ago, suddenly registered as coarse against her inner arms, her thighs.
“Oh,” she whispered.Her hands went instinctively to her abdomen.It wasn’t a swelling, not yet. It was a tightness, a profound, internal heaviness settling low in her pelvis. A flicker of data danced across the monitor above the bed: Uterine expansion initiated. Hormonal milieu: 28-week equivalence.Suri watched, her professional curiosity etched on her face. “Your respiration is increasing, Marlowe.”
“It’s… dense,” Tessa managed. The heaviness was blossoming, pushing gently but insistently against her abdominal wall.She looked down. The flat plane of her stomach was now a firm, subtle curve. She ran her palms over the nascent swell, feeling the strange, full tautness of her own skin. A pulse of something that wasn’t pain, but profound pressure, made her gasp.
“The ligaments are adapting,” Glen said, his tone clinical but not cold.He observed her vitals on the screen. “Notice the shift in your center of gravity. Compensate with your posture.”
Tessa tried to sit straighter, but the new weight pulling at her front made it awkward. As she adjusted, another sensation commandeered her attention.A deep, resonant ache blossomed in her breasts. They felt heavy, swollen against the confinement of her uniform bra.The material, once comfortable, was now a tight band. She saw, with a jolt of something between shock and fascination, the outline of her nipples hardening visibly against the fabric, the curves of her breasts fuller, pushing at the seams.
She glanced at Suri, a flush of vulnerability heating her cheeks. Suri simply gave a small, understanding nod.“Focus on the sensation, Ensign,” Glen guided.“Don’t fight it. Understand it.This is the foundation. The fetal monitor will now sync with your bio-signs.”
A gentle, rhythmic thumping filled the room—a simulated fetal heartbeat, fast and strong. Thump-thump-thump-thump. It was coming from the speakers, but somehow it felt like it was emanating from inside her.From the deep, growing density below her hands.
Tessa leaned back against the inclined bed, her breath coming in slower, deeper drafts as her body—or the simulation’s masterful illusion of her body—adjusted.Her hips felt wider. When she shifted, she felt the broad, smooth shelf of them press against the bed, a newfound amplitude there. The uniform pants were definitely snug across her thighs and seat.
“God,” she breathed out, half-laughing, half-overwhelmed. Her hands continued to roam her belly, which was no longer a suggestion but a definite, firm dome straining her jacket zipper. The skin underneath felt stretched, alive with a hypersensitive buzz. Every flutter of the program’s “fetus,” every simulated kick or turn, was a rolling, internal echo that made her jump.
“Ensign Laren,” Glen said, shifting gears.“Prepare the anatomical scanner. Let’s see what our patient is working with.”
Suri moved with efficient grace, bringing a mobile scanner over. The holographic display resolved above Tessa’s belly—a perfect, shimmering image of a uterus in mid-sagittal section. Inside, curled in a tight C, was the detailed form of a near-term holographic fetus, its head engaged deep in the simulated pelvis.Tessa stared, mesmerized. The heartbeat wasn’t just sound now; it was a visual pulse in the tiny chest. She saw a foot push against the uterine wall, and simultaneously felt a profound, rolling pressure against her cervix and bladder.Her back gave a sudden, sharp ache.“There,” Glen said, pointing. “That’s a textbook breech presentation we’ll need to address. Ensign Marlowe, describe what you’re feeling. Where is the pressure?”
Tessa swallowed, trying to translate the immense, internal geography into words. Her body was no longer just hers; it was a vessel, a landscape, a physics equation.“Low.So low.Like a… a weight just sitting on everything. And my back… it’s a deep ache, right here.” She gestured to her sacrum.
“Good,” Glen said, and his approval was a tangible thing.“That’s information. That’s data you can use. Now, Ensign Laren, let’s talk about manual rotation techniques.But first, Ensign Marlowe needs a different environment. The body needs to move.The program is advancing.”
He tapped a control. The warm blue lighting of the medsuite dimmed, softened further.The ambient hum changed, becoming quieter, more intimate. The sanitized smell gentled, replaced by a hint of clean linen and the faint, indefinable scent of skin.Tessa tried to sit up.The movement was clumsy, graceless. The full, ripe weight of her simulated pregnancy anchored her.She grunted, getting her feet under her. Standing was a revelation.The pull on her spine was immediate, profound. She instinctively cradled the huge, taut curve of her belly with both hands, feeling the incredible, heated mass of it. Her uniform top was now severely strained, the zpper threatening to give. The swell was unmistakable, high and round and perfect.
She took a waddling step, then another, getting used to the way she had to shift her weight.Her breasts, full and aching, moved heavily against her chest. She caught her reflection in a darkened monitor panel: a silhouetted form of undeniable, fertile abundance. A thrill, raw and primal, cut through the discomfort.The heartbeat filled the room. Thump-thump-thump-thump.Suri approached her, scanner in hand, ready to learn. Glen watched, his arms crossed, a scientist observing a fascinating, powerful experiment unfold.
Tessa took another step, feeling a fresh, insistent pressure build deep within, the first heralding sign of the next phase bearing down.
Tessa took another step, feeling a fresh, insistent pressure build deep within, the first heralding sign of the next phase bearing down. It was a squeezing, profound inward pull that made her stop and brace her hands on her knees, the great curve of her belly hanging heavy between her thighs."Contraction," she panted, the word strained.
"Good," Campbell said, watching the monitor spike."Duration, forty-two seconds.Mild by third-trimester standards. You'll learn to breathe through them soon.But first, that uniform is not optimal for assessment." He called out to the holodeck, "Program, switch clothes on pregnant subject to a loose robe."
The tactile illusion was seamless. One moment, Tessa was encased in the stiff, straining fabric of her Starfleet uniform.The next, it dissolved into a whisper of sensation against her oversensitive skin. A soft, dark blue robe materialized around her, hanging open from the shoulders. It was cool and lightweight, the silky material draping loosely over the massive swell of her belly and brushing against her full, bare breasts beneath.The freedom of it, the absence of constriction, was an immediate relief. But so was the exposure. The robe gaped, offering glimpses of the deep curve of her stomach, the tight, stretched skin of her navel now protruding, the shadow between her breasts. She pulled the front edges together with one hand, a gesture both modest and instinctive.
"Let's get you back on the bed for a cervical check," Campbell said, his tone never wavering from clinical."We need a baseline dilation."
Tessa nodded, allowing Suri to guide her by the elbow back to the birthing bed.She lay back, the pillow conforming to her spine. The robe fell open, but she was beyond caring now. The simulation’s intensity was folding her inward. Suri pulled on a pair of sterile holographic gloves, the material gleaming with a faint powder-blue light.
"Lithotomy position, please," Suri said, her voice softer than before."Knees up and apart."
Tessa complied, shifting the great weight of her belly to the side as she drew her legs up, letting her knees fall open. The cool air of the holodeck touched the most intimate parts of her, a startling contrast to the deep, internal heat she was generating.Suri’s hands were steady, applying a clear, cool lubricant.
"I'm going to insert two fingers to assess the cervix," Suri explained, her dark eyes meeting Tessa's."Try to relax your pelvic floor.Breathe out."
Tessa focused on a point on the ceiling, letting her breath shudder out. She felt the gentle, firm pressure of Suri’s fingertips at her entrance, then the smooth, slow glide inward. There was a stretch, an unfamiliar fullness, but it was not painful. It was a precise pressure, a deliberate exploration. Suri’s brows were knit in concentration as she navigated the internal landscape, her fingers probing deep past the resistance of taut muscle.And Tessa enjoyed Laren's fingers inside her.
The sensation cut through the abstract discomfort and overwhelming strangeness. It was a point of pure, focused physical connection. Suri’s touch was clinical, yes, but it was also unhurried and certain. The gentle, searching pressure of her fingers tracing the rim of Tessa’s cervix created a ripple effect—a warm, low pulse of pleasure that resonated deep in her womb, a stark counterpoint to the simulated contractions.It was an intimate violation that felt, inexplicably, like a relief. A tears pricked at the corner of Tessa’s eyes, a confusing blend of vulnerability and a shocking, undeniable spark of arousal. She bit her lip, a soft sound escaping her, not of pain, but of overwhelmed sensation.
Suri’s eyes flicked up, catching the expression on Tessa’s face. For a fraction of a second, her professional mask softened into something like understanding, her own breath catching almost imperceptibly before she schooled her features back to neutrality."Well?" Campbell asked.
Suri withdrew her hand slowly, the movement eliciting another faint shiver from Tessa."Cervix is soft, well-effaced.Dilation is approximately four centimeters. The fetal head is anterior and well-applied."Good.Active labor has begun," Campbell stated. "Ensign Marlowe, your body is now officially in the process of birth.The intervals will shorten. The pressure will increase. Your job is to manage it, to understand the rhythms, and to help us guide the holographic fetus through the birth canal."He moved closer, looking down at her. "How was the examination sensation?"Tessa swallowed, her face flushed. She couldn't articulate the complicated tangle of feelings—the clinical intimacy, the shocking pleasure amidst the pressure. "Informative," she breathed, her voice husky."Very...precise."