Yeah, I went there. I hope this isn't too gross.

Venus woke up that morning knowing something was wrong.

For one thing, her stomach felt distended, like she'd eaten too much, even though she'd hardly touched dinner the night before because she hadn't been feeling well. In fact, she hadn't felt like herself for several days now. But this morning the feeling had reached a new high, and she spent almost an hour in the bathroom, ignoring her brothers' pleas to let them in, trying to figure out what was wrong. Eventually she gave up and went downstairs, asking Splinter for permission to sit out training. The concern in his eyes made her feel even worse, but he granted her request, and she spent most of the day lying on the couch, listening to her brothers' kiais and feeling generally miserable.

For lunch Mikey brought her a bowl of instant ramen, which Splinter always said was nothing like real ramen, but which had always been their comfort food when they were sick. She thanked him weakly, and the fear in his eyes made her want to hit something. Her misery was beginning to make her irritable, or maybe whatever was causing her misery was also causing her irritability, but either way when dinner came around and she felt a little stronger, she sat down at the dinner table with the rest of the family and the first thing that came out of her mouth was,

"Mikey, why can't you act more your age!"

He'd only been reading a comic book, and had turned to say something to her, likely to explain the exciting plot twist in the issue he was reading. Something had flared up inside her, something a lot like rage, and she had spoken before she could think. And now her baby brother was looking at her like he was about to cry. If she'd been in her right mind, she would have relented, she would have apologized and tried to keep him from crying. But she wasn't in her right mind, and the impending tears only made her more mad.

"Oh, now you're going to cry, are you?" she said cruelly, in that tone of voice that from her meant instant funk. Any one of her brothers, upon hearing that Tone, would go into a depression that could last for hours, and it made her think they all secretly liked her a lot more than they let on. But that didn't mean she didn't wield it like a weapon, like her naginata or her tonfa. She went on. "If you stopped crying so much, maybe people wouldn't pick on you. You make me sick, you—"

"Venus de Milo, that is enough."

Splinter was there, using his own Tone, the one that was worse than getting yelled at. Venus physically recoiled, and then, before she could stop herself, leaned over and emptied the contents of her stomach onto the floor.

Instant flurry of activity. The ones closest to the torrent leaped to get out of the way, and Mikey actually got up and ran to his bunk, hiding under the covers like he was five years old. But Venus was too weak to care. She felt dizzy and sick, and her limbs shook like she had been doing pushups all day. It was all she could do to allow Splinter to hoist her up and lead her to the bathroom, calling over his shoulder for someone to clean up the mess. She felt a little bad then. Leo would probably end up doing it, responsible as he was, and she didn't deserve such big-heartedness. She hoped Mikey would let her apologize later. She realized she felt feverish, and suddenly a need came upon her, a need so strong that she whipped around without thinking, and made Splinter stagger back as she twisted out of his grip.

"I need…" But she had no idea what she needed. Splinter took her by the upper arms and practically marched her to the bathroom, where she proceeded to slip out of his grip again and take all the towels they owned, dump them on the floor, and scrabble around in them. Some part of her mind was dimly aware that Splinter was just standing there, staring at her, and had she not been so preoccupied with making the towels just the way she wanted them, she might have been afraid. Splinter always knew what to do. Eventually she had them just right, and she stopped, breathing hard. A few higher brain functions came back, and she looked up at Splinter from where she was crouched over the towels, her mind marinating in fear.

"My daughter," he said, placing a comforting hand on her head, but then something tore inside, something starting in her stomach and going all the way down, and she grunted, her mind going away for a moment, and then she came back, panting and feeling slightly less like a melon had lodged itself in her middle. Splinter had that careful look on his face, the one he got usually before he didn't yell at you even though you deserved it. What had she done to give him that look? She looked down at the nest of towels (the word came in that instant, nest) and there was a small white sphere, the size of a golf ball, covered in a slime that was still clinging to her—

She snapped her gaze up to Splinter again, horrified. Had she just laid an egg? Her father still had that careful look on his face, and she realized now that what it really meant was that he was controlling his emotions, that he was trying not to do or say what he really wanted to do or say. She opened her mouth to say something, but then Splinter looked swiftly over at the open bathroom door. She followed his gaze, more slowly, and found Michelangelo, holding a pill bottle in limp hands, his mouth open. For several seconds no one moved, and then many things happened at once.

The main one Venus remembered was bursting into tears, but she also recalled Splinter getting up and telling Mikey to go watch TV or something, and the thudding slap of his bare feet as he ran away. She heard the door to the bathroom close, and felt rather than saw Splinter kneel down next to her, holding her head close to his chest, so she could hear his heartbeat. She felt her stomach constrict again, and when she came back from the blankness she knew she had laid another one. How many eggs did she have inside her? Were they going to hatch into babies? Was she a mother now? She hadn't had sex, but maybe that was just how it worked for humans. Why was this happening to her? She wasn't ready for that kind of responsibility!

She was dimly aware, between black-outs, that she was whimpering, and that her fears were tumbling out of her lips. Splinter's voice penetrated the fear, then, and she heard the almost hypnotic murmur of comfort:

"No, my daughter, you are not a mother, they will not hatch, I have read in my book about turtles that females will sometimes lay unfertilized eggs. That is all this is. It is—they are like the chicken eggs that we eat—"

He cut himself even before she cried out, as though knowing that had been the wrong thing to say.

"Chicken—!" was all she could wail before another black-out hit her. The tears started up again, and she nuzzled her head into Splinter's soft fur, blacking out and panting with the effort of laying eggs. It hurt, it hurt so bad, and worst of all it was humiliating. Frightening. She was laying eggs, like a chicken, like a freak. Bad enough that she was green and only had six fingers, now she laid eggs too? And Mikey had seen her, and now she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to apologize to him because how could he even stand to look at her after seeing that. She cursed her body for doing this to her, for being so abnormal. She cursed herself, and her ancestors, and the ooze and whoever had made it. She cursed and choked and cried, and blacked out again and again and again.

"Shh," Splinter said soothingly as she sobbed and sobbed, stroking her head with the soft pads of his fingers. "Shh…"

"I'm a freak," she wailed softly, after her stomach felt empty and no more black-outs came. She lacked the energy even to give her words volume. He shushed her again.

"You are no freak," he said firmly. "This is a natural part of life."

"But—" She heaved, and leaned over to the porcelain bowl and heaved again, trembling. Splinter stroked her carapace, murmuring softly.

"My daughter, my daughter, my beautiful daughter," he crooned, and she wanted to believe him. But turning to look at the pile of small spheres in the nest of towels behind her, she knew it wasn't true.

"Wow," April says appreciatively. Venus can't believe she actually told her that story. It had been hardly less embarrassing to recall than it had been to live through. "I'm jealous," her red-headed friend says, and to this she must protest.

"Jealous of what?"

"When I had my first period, I started bleeding in front of the whole school. It was awful! I was only twelve, and I barely knew what was going on anyway, and now everyone knew."

Venus makes a sympathetic noise.

"Why were you bleeding?" she asks. April looks at her strangely.

"Honey, that's what menstruating is," she says. Venus recoils in shock.

"What do you mean? You mean you bleed—often?"

"Every month."

Venus can only stare in awe. April takes pity on her and begins to explain how human females work. She feels bad that her main thought is how disgusting it the whole things is, and she starts to think maybe laying unfertilized eggs once a year isn't so bad after all. But what makes her smile as wide as she's ever smiled before in her life is the fact that April seems to regard her tale as the most natural thing in the world. Of course female mutant turtles lay eggs. Duh.

Venus wonders if she knows about churring. She doubts very much her brothers have told her. She will keep their secret… for now.

If this didn't make you run away screaming, check out Cosmopolitan by vashsunglasses, which is where I got the concept.