Chapter Text
He should have known.
He should have known.
He should HAVE known.
He should have known something was wrong the moment symptoms were flaring up again with him. He's old he needs to pay attention to this stuff especially. That's what Stolas says to him and it's what Moxxie crams down his mouth daily. Just like the mix of pills, he should be taking.
Does he? No. It's him, what did you expect?
It’s been years since he had these symptoms, the nausea that left his head dunked into the toilet bowl for hours of the early morning to late afternoon and sometimes even to the depths of night. The bloating that would have him regret even touching food hours before. With the feeling of his belt digging into his waistline. And now, he had begun to sweat like a marathon runner over the tiniest things. Leaning over to pick up something, sweating. Running up the stairs, panting, and gripping the banister of the staircase. And don't even think about moving an inch in bed. You'll be smoldering in. He couldn't even enjoy leaning into Stolas without feeling like he was being cooked alive. He now has sweat and ruined two whole suits in the last few days, he was boiling like a hog.
But new symptoms had shown up that REALLY stressed him out.
He's been having some intense heartburn. His chest ached and all he could do was cough or demolish what little milk they had left to alleviate the pain until he defeatedly would crawl to Stola's side and ask him for help. It may have been provoked by his weird hanker for seafood lately. Specifically, from Greed. If it wasn't from Greed, it would go sour real quick. however, Andromeda's favorite restaurant seemed to be an exception to this claim. It got so bad, that he would get lunch, a snack, and a PRE-DINNER MEAL before he went home. He couldn't get enough of the Grease Trap's seafood.
No wonder he felt like shit for the past few days. Tired as a resident from Sloth during daylight-savings. That shit had barely enough nutrients to keep a worm chugging along. But it was one of the only foods that didn't make him feel sickly after eating it. No wonder his chest and ankles hurt so much, the sodium was probably killing him slowly.
What was the straw that broke the metaphorical camel’s back, was when he pulled on his binder, and it won’t fit.
That’s where he was now, where the story had left on a cliffhanger. It felt like one of those melodramatic dramas Stolas put on before bed. With how time suddenly slowed down he was left there agape. Binder uncomfortably not being able to move down his chest, even as his nails dig into the old fabric.
Trying to pull it into place.
He had this binder for years now, it’s been old reliable for him, especially recently. He was getting older now and the comforts of his youth gave him that self-confidence he strived for, even if he knew he didn’t need it.
His eyes met the man in the mirror, who kept trying to snap the binder into place, cursing and wincing himself winded over the fabric. Like an old tank top refusing to fit.
How long had it been since he needed an updated one? It hasn’t been that long has it?
Sure, he’s been wearing it more frequently, but that’s because it’s great to throw on as a tank top.
It’s not like the kids won’t mind, they both had their own. They do the same as he does. They call it T-Days, so be it. Hell, he bought them both their first! At the old janky strip mall he, Fizz and Barbie would hot box it with a case of their dad’s cheap booze. Same place where he got his braces, and the same place where he got his tramp stamp.
(Sue him if he dared to call it a cutie mark)
How long has it been since he needed a new one?
He got the “oldest” new one back when he and Stolas finally started dating. The big bad bird himself found the ratty thing and practically begged Blitzo to buy a new one, if not for him, then for his health. The thing was old, crusty, warn in, and was rocking three holes on the back of it. It had character, he would say.
“Yes, and that character is worrying.”
It was a nice afternoon, and Blitzo got a free binder, strip mall pretzel, and a certified Bird-hot blow-job out of it. Win-Win-Win for him.
The next update in the Binder-Blitzo journey was when Andromeda denounced girlhood and became a pre-teen, T-taking, ass-kicking, drama-filled machine. (Blitzo name pat-intended). His little boy was becoming a little man, even if he was only five. This called for a celebration in his eyes. Stolas needed a new binder because brooding an egg was tough work, even if that work came with some extra rolls, fat, and feathers. Blitzo wasn’t complaining. He loved it.
Plus, with his daughters moving out of the manor and into his old apartment, they would need their binders too. He’d throw some chokers, gay flags, and pill containers for their estrogen and testosterone in there as well. They made it a whole day. He got to take his family to his old stomping grounds and got a new binder out of it. This one, Andromeda picked out to match with him. A little cartoon horse was in the corner of the left chest muscle. And right next to it was a tiny foal, racing with them.
Did he sob in the dressing room openly?
Who won’t!!
Shut up, it was caused by the hormones. He was sharing them in sympathy with Stolas for the past six months to five years ever since their first little egg rolled into their lives.
“Guess something else rolled into my life too.” He scoffed, looking at himself in the mirror as he managed to inch his way out of his binder, getting a good look at himself. He tugged at his sweatpants as the bloating was persistent, right there with the nausea. He was fending it off by not thinking about it, and nursing his bedside cup of water. His pants hung loosely as he stared at himself. Janky scar-like chest marks lined under Blitzo’s muscle. With a slight poke, he gave himself through the mirror, he let out a cuss.
“-Fucking bitch!” He winced as his chest felt tender as hell.” Shit, righty and lefty haven’t given me shit since—“
His eyes practically became dinner plates as he stared at himself in the bedroom mirror connected to the dark blue vanity. The color drained from his face as memories of the past flooded his head.
The last time he had to update his wardrobe was when he was pregnant with Gamma.
When he had: Nausea, bloating and cramping, fatigue, heartburn, swelling, and chest pains.
When he needed a new binder.
His head dropped against the mirror, looking towards himself. How did this happen AGAIN?
As his mind was racing on at this possibility of happening, he could see the bathroom door opening behind him as Stolas walked out. Preening his feathers as they were freshly cleaned and taken care of. A smile moved along his face as he turned to his husband, who stared back at him through the mirror.
“Hello, Blitzy~” He cooed with a wave.” I love your new outfit~” He teased.” So attractive.” He purred, twiddling his fingers near his face as he batted his eyes, fluttering his lashes, before leaving the room. Tugging on his robe as his hips swayed side to side. Leaving Blitzo staring at his ass, even after everything had hit him. He felt his dick twitch before groaning loudly. Dropping his head against the mirror of their bedroom again.
This is how he found out he was pregnant. Having realized it after strolling down memory-trans-lane, he now was with a hard-on and an ache in his head. And now, having realized how it happened. Again
(And bottom now.)
“…We got to get our tubes tied…” He shook his head as it rubbed the glass.
He couldn’t tell the kids this one.