A little scene about the student accommodation officer at MonsterPregU. Maybe them arguing with procurement about "yes, we need more accessibility desks" or them seeing a student walk in with a large glowing belly, sighing, and handing the poor student forms.
(ok had far too much fun with this what an excellent prompt <3)
“And processed forms go here.”
Fio watched Ted—her new manager—smack the file organizer like it was his wife’s ass. Or husband's. She had only met him today, so who knew what that ring on his finger meant. “Great. Got it.”
“We’ll get you into troubleshooting and shit later, but like, ninety percent of the job is just knowing which form you use for which problem.”
“Right,” she said, nodding in what she hoped seemed like a professional manner. “I assume most of the time it’s students claiming their dogs are ESA’s?”
Ted made an odd face. “Uh, not… quite.”
Before Fio’s eyes entirely left the cabinet, they were caught by one slot with a stack of papers several times as high as any of the others. She glanced at the label. There was a list of form numbers, which flew out of her head with alarming speed, and the word “pregnancy.”
That was… weird.
Ted must have caught her looking, because he turned back, slapped the cabinet again, and said, in an oddly tired voice, “By the way, if someone’s not sure if it’s under magic or pregnancy, it’s probably pregnancy.”
Fio blinked. This was a student accessibility office at a university. Why that information would be relevant during training was beyond her, but, sure. She assumed it had probably had caused some bureaucratic nightmare one time and became one of those horror stories you warn the newbies about.
At the end of the alarmingly brief training protocol, Ted left Fio to just “go for it” on the data entry, instructing her to ask him if anything got tricky. She could handle a learn-on-the-go job environment. Probably. She went to collect a few of the fresh forms from the input organizer.
The student worker at the front desk glanced up from his homework to wave at her, and she said a quick hello. Jax, his nametag read. She smiled to herself. Nice to know she wasn’t the only trans person working here.
Leaning down, she examined the organizer. Most slots were empty, or had one or two sheets in wait, but once again, the slot labeled “pregnancy” had a decent handful.
This was getting weirder. Actually, she realized, no, it wasn’t weird, it was downright discriminatory. Probably. They’d clearly let the needs of the poor handful of pregnant students pile up. It must be reproductive injustice!
Well, that was one way to impress her new boss. She grabbed the stack.
The old, clunky computer whirred like it was wheezing after a hike up the stairs, but managed to run the processing software fine enough. She entered the right form number and started to type in the badly handwritten date. This one was from yesterday. Not too bad.
The curiosity that looks to legitimize righteous anger took over, and she started leafing through the pages. The next was from two days ago. Then another from two days ago. Weird coincidence. Then the next was… three days ago. She flipped through, brows furrowing. There were eight files stacked here, and all of them were from the past seven days. All with different names.
Jax glanced up again as she walked over, waving the papers. “Jax, right? Hey, did you know eight different students filed a pregnancy thing in the past week?”
This did not get the reaction she expected. Jax stared at her. “Uh.”
A beep sounded on the desktop next to him, indicating a new digital form submission, and he grimaced. “Ted!” he called. “Got another one asking for maternity desks!”
“Fuck!”
Fio blinked. “Maternity… desks?”
“Yeah, get too big, can’t fit in the normal chairs with the little desktop attached, right?”
“Is that, like, a common issue…?”
Ted came storming out from the back. “We don’t have any more! God dammit. Procurement has to special order those things!” He rubbed his forehead. “Have we updated the birth tracker stats? Maybe someone popped and doesn’t need ‘em any more?”
“Uhhh…” Jax typed something in, and scrolled down a spreadsheet. An… alarmingly full spreadsheet. “Well, hm, I heard those two juniors disappeared in the woods again last week? So maybe them?”
“Or that thing just dragged them out to pump more of its spawn into ‘em.” Ted ran his hand down his face. “Well, whatever, put those ones back in the inventory.”
Jax tapped the screen. “Oh, also, since you’re here, we got another email about nursing room space.”
“Another? Christ, it’s that one guy with the angels and the demon kid again, right?”
“Nope. Don’t know this one.”
“Well—actually, Fio, learning opportunity: this’ll blow your mind, but the goddamn accessibility office does not in fact have control over the amount of nursing rooms on campus, so send any of those to the student services desk. Maybe they’ll eventually wise up and add those, uh, what are they called, those little weird pod ones they got in airports.”
Fio stared blankly. She comprehended most of the words she was hearing, but despite their valiant efforts, they were failing to construct a coherent image in her brain. “So,” she said, trying to make some sort of human response. “So, there’s, uh, there’s not enough nursing rooms. You say.”
Whatever answer that was about to receive was cut off by the ring of the door opening. She turned, and immediately went near slackjawed.
A student—clearly a freshman, since they were the only ones who ever actually their student ID lanyards—lumbered in. There really was no word for it but “lumbered.” They were a bit short, of an average-to-heavy build, with a cute cropped haircut and a stick-n-poke tattoo on their wrist, but Fio noticed none of those things because she was completely distracted by the fact that they were the most pregnant individual she had ever seen. Their middle bulged out nearly two feet in front of them, hanging heavily off their abdomen skin stretched so tight it shone. Kind of… literally, in fact. Maybe it was a weird lighting thing, but she could swear the skin was glowing slightly. And there was plenty of skin to see. They wore an overized t-shirt, clearly much too large for the rest of them, that could just barely reach around the circumference of their bump and rode up another inch or two with each step. They walked with a hand clasped to each side of their belly, stabilizing it, it seemed, as they slowly waddled across the room.
There was a quiet groan from next to Fio. She turned, and was once again alarmed to see the complete lack of shock on Ted’s face. “Not another one…”
Once the student finally made their way to the desk, they put a hand on it, catching their breath, face red. Both with exertion and, it seemed, a bit of embarassment. Fio hoped her face wasn’t red, too. She was very glad that her lower half was blocked by the desk.
“Can I get you a chair?” Jax asked.
“Um, no, uh, phew, I’m okay,” the student said. “Um. I’m here to—”
Ted slapped a short stack of paper down in front of them before they could finish. “Alright. You’re gonna need to request some in-class accommodations for chairs, some general limited mobility forms that just make sure no one forces you to do a lot of standing and moving and whatnot. Not usually an issue, but good to have on file. Those are these two.” He shoved those in a neat pile and pointed to the next. “This one just puts on file that you’re pregnant, so that encompasses all the general legal requirements around that.”
“Oh,” the student said, “alright…”
“Now,” Ted went on, “you got a due date?”
“N—um…” the student shifted uncomfortably, adjusting their stance. “I don’t, um, I don’t know… I don’t know if it’ll even…”
“Got it.” Fio watched Ted slide a sheet labeled “parental medical leave” to the side. “Just call the office if you figure one out,” he went on. “Or if you spontaneously go into labor.” That idea did not seem to please the student. “Aaand, if it does turn out to be a more permanent… situation… then turn in that one. Now, you having mobility issues?”
“Um. No. I’m fine.”
Ted made a face. “You sure, kid?”
“I can still walk fine. I’ll… I’m getting used to it…”
“Used to it for now.” Ted tapped the next form. “Unless you’re certain that thing’s not growing any more?”
Face reddening again, the student took the sheet.
Fio should have gone back to her new desk, but she couldn’t help staying and watching the student, her hands inconspicuously clasped in the front. They shifted every couple of seconds, occasionally wincing and putting a hand to the side of their mountain of a belly. Fio had never seen a less comfortable looking human being. She imagined the weight, the strain of that enormous mass, so heavy with life inside… She had the fleeting urge to offer to lift their bump for them, just to help get the weight off. But she was still at least coherent enough not to listen to that particular devil on her shoulder.
After they handed the forms over, turned, and lumbered back out, panting and holding that giant belly all the way, Fio turned to stare at her new coworkers.
“Oookay,” Jax said. “So I’m thinking you maybe didn’t get the memo on this school.”
“I…” Her brain lurched for something to latch onto other than “what in the fuck.” “How… what… how would someone be that pregnant and not have taken care of any of this yet?”
“Well, I can’t imagine they’ve been pregnant long.” Ted crossed his arms. “Clearly they weren’t used to it. Guessing it was that attic spirit thingymabob that got those other two last week.”
“What? But they were so—”
“Or the lake monster,” Jax pointed out. “Its eggs glow under florescent light, remember?”
“Yeah, but they were huge. Those eggs take a couple months to get you to that size. Could also be a demon.”
“It could always be a demon. It’s usually a demon.”
“Maybe that portal opened back up? Or, ooh.” He snapped. “Could be your thing.”
Jax rolled his eyes. “It’s clearly not my thing. Unless my thing’s got some insane variation.”
“Sorry, um.” Fio looked between them. “Your thing?”
In response Jax pushed back his chair on its rollers, turning toward her, and Fio gaped. Tucked away at the front desk, she had managed to completely miss that his lap, too, was filled nearly to his knees by a huge, heavy, obviously pregnant belly.
“Obviously nothing compared to that guy,” he said, “but, uh, yeah. Literally no clue what it is. No normal symptoms, only realized when I was getting way rounder than the freshman fifteen should justify. Makes the ultrasound go haywire and the doppler just makes crazy static, so… yeah. Been like, two years now since I started showing? Slowed down, but it is still growing, which is alarming.” He patted the top of his belly. “Mostly hoping it’s not a world-ending eldritch abomination situation or something. Also that this isn’t, like, permanent, cuz, yikes. Though.” He shrugged. “I guess I would rather that than give birth to the world-ending abomination option.”
“Cool,” Fio said. “Cool cool cool. Great. Hey, so, this is gonna be a way weirder job than I thought it would be, right?”
“Kid,” Ted sighed, clapping a hand on Jax’s shoulder, “you have no fuckin’ idea.”