Doctor doing yet another ultrasound, tired but by now adept at ignoring any internal distractions.
Guy who was referred by his GP, still in denial and barely even showing yet, looking in horror at his doctor's bulging, writhing midsection. Wondering how someone can do their job looking like they don't even notice the monster squirming around inside them.
He almost misses his doctor telling him about the eggs in his belly.
Leaning in, taking a close look at the shape and size, the doctor mutters, 'Looks like the same naga that got me in the parking lot a month ago. I thought they caught that thing,' then says out loud to his patient, 'Well, we have a good idea of the average gestation period. The eggs should hatch in a week or two, then it's another two weeks from there. Maybe three.'
He winces, hand flying to the side of his belly.
Thirty minutes later, the patient leaves the clinic with an armful of pamphlets and a deep, existential terror.
Five hours later, the doctor's shift ends and he locks up the clinic, tells his assistant to check in after an hour or so, strips and gets comfortable (a relative term) in the birthing chair.
Feet in the stirrups, positioning the little handmirror just so, he grumbles to himself about not being dilated quite far enough. Oh well, this will at least give him time to message Monster Control about the naga that may still be on the loose.
He's on his phone when he feels something slip even lower in his pelvis, and his whole belly shakes with the need to push. Apparently these operate on a different definition of 'fully dilated'. He shouts for the nurse, bears down, and pushes out the first of three snakelings.
As soon as he's able, he gets dressed and hobbles out to his car. A thick, long, scaly tail descends from the darkness to encircle him--with a practiced movement of the wrist, he plunges a syringe in the soft underbelly and waits impatiently for the tail to release him. Fool me once...
The next day he's back at work, carefully opening a recently arrived sample. The slime inside--dormant but mistaken for dead by some junior researchers--soon awakens in the warmth of the office. During the doctor's mid-shift five-minute nap, it slides up his pant leg.
After an hour of fruitless searching for the missing sample, the doctor looks down at his belly in despair. Not again...