MILKED BY THE YETI, Book 3, Part 3
by Moctezuma Johnson
The Doctor, a Belarusian with a cool demeanor, knew something was way off. Even with a body that produced Lena’s eggplant-sized tits, her frame was too small for her current weight. It was unnatural. The baby was not going to come out. There was no way. The Doctor made the choice.
Lena was drugged and prepped for surgery. There was an IV, a breathing mask, many machines, nurses, and hands moving all over her. The room was sterile and white. It was not a warm place. It was a hospital. They cut her front from her hip bone to hip bone basically opening up her entire reproductive area, the incision went all the way up toward her sternum. Natasha was terrified outside. She gripped Vlad’s hand so hard that she peeled skin off of him. The pitch in the operating room was frenetic. Then they say the baby-yeti inside the poor Russian woman’s body. The doctor birthed him. There was the cry identical to a human baby. Natasha relaxed her skin-ripping grip on her husband. There was a growl. Her nails dug into him enough that blood trickled down his sleeve. Inside the operating room was abject silence.
Sometimes in life, things that aren’t really supposed to happen do take place. There are black swans. Market crashes, wars, infant deaths all take our small human brains by surprise. When a Belarusian Doctor stands in front of the mirror brushing his teeth, wiping his glasses clean, and tucking in his button down shirt, he does not expect that his day will bring him into the unexpected. He’s trained for emergencies, but he’s not mentally preparing for one and that is a big difference. He wants to put his time in at the office, come back to his wife and kids, eat some samsa, play with the kids, put them to bed, make love to his wife, read a few paragraphs of the latest medical journal, and fall into a deep sleep. Unfortunately, the good doctor had different kind of day. He stood in the operating theater with his mouth wide open staring at a newborn yeti that he has just delivered. This newborn yeti could be considered a black swan. When the doctor was brushing his teeth this morning he had no thoughts of what to do in case of yeti so, as you can imagine, he was quite unprepared. “Take the…baby to the nursery. Get a bottle, ten bottles, in his mouth and keep him calm, nurse!” he barked at his head nurse, yes she gave him head in the supply closets now and then but cut the sniggering and focus on the catastrophe at hand. All things considered the doctor was doing pretty well in the face of a black swan of this magnitude. Another man would give in to the buckling knees and faint. Not Doctor Maxirov. He drank his vodka straight and could cowboy up in these situations whether prepared or not.
The doctor turned his attention back to the operating table. “She’s losing blood fast,” said the other nurse, the one with the very tight ass, but again that’s not the point. The doctor immediately started to stitch Lena back up and control the bleeding but it didn’t really work. I mean, a yeti, came out of her.
In the nursery the Yeti was calm sucking on seventeen bottles simultaneously. They were able to get his weight. He clocked in at 17 lbs. 8 ounces. The head nurse decided not to record this and swore all the orderlies to secrecy. Being a hot woman got them to acquiesce, at least for the moment. There were no photos taken, no tweets, no instagrams, no Facebook. The crappy WiFi that the government owned and operated hospital shot through the ether may be as responsible for the good behavior as common sense.
The doctor pushed down on her pelvis trying to force the body to start helping itself and get the bleeding down but it was a lost cause. Lena was losing blood and her heart was starting to go into cardiac arrest. They were able to avoid a massive heart attack but after all the screaming, fussing, medicating, and other doctor-stuff that I don’t really understand well took place, Lena’s brain was alive but her body was in a deep sleep.
“I’m sorry,” the doctor said, his hair in a mess, sweat dripping down his face, his lab coat smeared with blood, while taking Natasha’s hand for comfort. “While your friend is alive, she’s also in a coma.”
Natasha fell to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. “No!” she screamed in her shrill voice.
Vlad rubbed his wife’s shoulders and said, “She’s going to be okay.”
Natasha passed out. The nurses brought her smelling salts. They sat her in a chair in the waiting room. One of the orderlies brought her a chocolate ice cream. Natasha got up her gumption for the inevitable. Lena was her sister and there was no choice in the matter.
Stay Tuned for MILKED BY THE YETI, book 3, part 4
*see comment below for my thoughts on writing this installment