This choice: Father (Familial relationship) • Go Back...Chapter #6Your Father, Dr. Bowman by: Unknown “I am your father, to be accurate.”
“My father, huh?” you walked up to the white styrofoam-like speaker, “tell me, why is my father a kajillion-foot monster? No way you’re my father, we’re not even the same species for all I know! Unless somehow you squirted me out of your billion-foot wiener?” you say jokingly.
You heard the doctor hesitate before he spoke again. “Erm… How do I explain this? Well, to start, an accurate size comparison would make me equivalent to eighty-feet in your measurement at your size. As I’ve mentioned, yes you are a genetic clone of a lost species, but…”
You stood arms akimbo, “but what? Is there a reason you’re calling yourself my pops? You expect me to call you daddy now?”
“Well, you see, the genetic material we managed to recover was… incomplete, to say the least. However, our genome is not wildly different from yours. So, I… donated a piece of my genetic material to complete yours.”
You squinted as you tapped your foot, “what’s with the wishy-washy answer, the hell does that even mean? Get to the point.”
“To put it bluntly… indeed, you were ‘squirted out of my billion-foot wiener’ as you so crudely put it…”
You felt the weirdest tingle in your groin that went throughout your body, how you felt though betrayed how your body reacted.
“Wha— The fuck are you saying?” you placed a hand on your forehead, “are you honestly trying to tell me I’m half… whatever the fuck you are? How in the hell does that even work? How was I even birthed?”
You heard the doctor mumble a few words, probably debating with his colleagues on how to approach the topic.
“…The process of bringing you to life was extremely complicated— Machine automated gestation proved incapable of accurately replicating gestation at your size. A live alternative that closely resembled the properties of a womb was needed.”
You shook your head and crossed your arms; your face was red. “Get to the frickin’ point you ol’ geezer! If you’re saying I wasn’t born in a machine, then what the hell was I grown in?”
“…My testicles.”
You blinked, then shut your eyes. You widened your eyebrows but didn’t open your eyes.
“I’m sorry— Your wha—”
“My testicle was reformed into an artificial organ specialized for carrying you as you gestated” the doctor interrupted, “all things considered, I am more your father in every sense of the word you can imagine. I created you from my seed, I carried you inside me, and I brought you into this world—”
“Stop, stop, STOP!” you interrupted, “…is this some kind of sick fucking joke? Excuse me, what the fuck!"
You knew it couldn’t be possible, but as you looked around for an escape, you kept recalling those monoliths. This wasn’t a dream unfortunately, but by the absurdity of it all, it sure felt like one. Teetering on being a nightmare.
“There’s no— There’s no fucking way that you… whatever you are— are my father!”
“That hurts, son,” you heard the voice whimper.
You pointed hostilely at the speaker, “I AM NOT YOUR SON! And it hurts YOU? Did you ever think how it feels for the last member of his species to find out that he’s being kept hostage by giant fucking animals? Then some bat-shit insane building of a doctor claims that person was his test tube baby that he grew and squirted from his balls?”
“Son, I—”
“AGGHH!” you shouted in frustration, squatting on the floor and scratching your head violently, “do you get off to this?! Does it help you jerk off at night you ol’ fuck!? Did you honestly expect me to take this in with open arms and start calling you ‘Pops?!’ “
You screamed, your cursed, you vented all your frustrations out on the doctor, he watched silently. You slammed a wall with your fist, but the interior was designed with softness in mind to protect you from harm. You threw yourself to the floor face first.
“FUHMMMPHHHH!” you cursed at the pillowed flooring.
Unable to come to terms with the circumstances, you just stayed there, hoping you could just sleep and find out this wasn’t real.
You did manage to fall asleep eventually, the problem now was finding a reason to get up. You slouched there, the anger subsided, in its place was utter melancholy. You were the last of your kind, and no one you could speak to would ever understand the position you were in. Why had these damn scientists brought you back? It was cruel, you deserved to rest peacefully in the ground, not be a guinea pig for research! You clenched your jaw, but you released it soon after, realizing there was nothing you could do. It was pointless to try anything, you’d rather just sulk in your own misery than tire yourself out. But then you heard the static of the speaker appear again. You lie still on the floor, only turning your head lazily to look.
The voice spoke. “…Are you alright, H-1?”
You blew raspberries; the name “H-1” made you huff irritably because of how impersonal it was.
“…You have every right to be reacting the way you are right now.”
The doctor waited for a response, but saw you had no interest in arguing anymore. He pitied you in your defeated, depressed, and slouched position.
“…I understand your point of view. You have no reason to trust any of us, you have every right to be angry. But I promise I will be the best I can for you, even if you hate me with all your heart.”
The doctor stopped once more, in case you had changed your mind, but you remained silent.
“You can continue hating me, and I will never hold that against you. However, you have much more to gain working with me than against me. Please, all I ask is you give me to chance to prove myself as a fath—”
The doctor winced, having slipped the wrong words. He continued, seeing as he already let it out there.
“… As a father… Please, I want to make my son proud of his father, that is the only thing I ask of you.”
He saw through the video feed that you didn’t move an inch. He sighed; the speaker retreated back into the foam. Before it disappeared, he heard you respond quietly.
“…Old man.”
The doctor’s furry ears poked upwards; the speaker reformed back to position, ready to listen to whatever it is you had to say.
“I gotta question…” you said.
“Yes, go on. I will answer any questions you have to the best of my ability.”
“What kinda animal are you?”
“…Is that a question or an insult?”
You hovered your hand over your head and squinted. “Wha— A question obviously! How the hell else am I supposed to ask that?”
“Apologies, most species simply wouldn’t take kindly to being referred to as an 'animal.' ”
He anticipated a snarky remark but was genuinely surprised by your response.
“Oh. I’m sorry about that then.”
Though you didn’t see it, he grinned from ear to ear approvingly. He was making progress and was pleased that you weren’t as rude as you led him to believe.
“Well,” he started proudly, “to answer your question, I am…
What species is Dr. Bowman?
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