Author's Note: I've got a legitimate excuse for the lateness of this chapter!! In the chaos ensuing a computer change, half of the chapter I'd already written got erased, and I had to re-write it. *sniff* So the next chapter shouldn't take quite so long.

For all you pervs (and I say that with love) waiting for more sex, I'm sad to say that there won't be anymore until part 2 of the story arc (this part is nearly over). But in consolation I've written a short PWP and posted it to the iz_slash yahoo list and the zimfics livejournal community. Hope you like Zim/Sizz-Lor non-con as much as I do. Yum.

Chapter 8

"Is he done puking yet?" Asked Gaz casually between bites of leftover pizza.

"I think so." Said Dib, having just rinsed out the bucket from Zim's last horrible bout. Just as he was about to knock on wood, the now-familiar sound of Zim's hearty heave began afresh from downstairs.

The pregnancy was not proceeding well for Zim. Aside from a myriad of physical side effects, each more horrifying than the last, his mental state had all but collapsed only two days after committing himself to the professor's care. That has been two solid weeks ago, and he was delirious most of the time now, needing constant supervision since sedation was too risky an option.

Professor Membrane was now taking a desperately needed rest, leaving Dib to watch over Zim and make sure he didn't try to eat Gir. Again.

They'd all tried to keep it a secret from Gaz for as long as possible, which turned out to be about three hours. The news had revitalized her will to live - instead of wallowing in her own anger and frustration, she could now revel in her brother's pain.

"This is what you get for having sex with aliens, Dib." She taunted merrily for the fiftieth time as Dib hung his head and started back down to the basement.

"My brother's such a freak." Remarked Gaz conversationally to Gir, who was seated across from her at the table drinking a cup of tea.

"I know what you meeean." Replied Gir, nodding sagely.

*****

Once he'd descended the stairs, Dib grabbed the hand-held suck-o-matic from the wall , gritted his teeth, and headed for the infirmary.

Zim was seated at one of the microscope stations along the counter, slumped over and drooling onto his bloated belly. He'd puked on the floor beside himself, but thankfully had avoided his patients' gown this time - Professor Membrane wouldn't be concious for several more hours and Dib *really* didn't want to have to change Zim himself.

Quickly cleaning up the mess, Dib stood debating whether or not to move Zim back to his bed. If Zim slumped over any more he might fall over and seriously hurt himself, but chances were that if Dib put him back to bed, he'd be up again soon anyways, dazedly trying to eat the petrie dishes or crawl into one of the cupboards. And Dib felt, well, very uncomfortable picking Zim up, or having any physical contact with him at all. Those gowns were really thin, and when Dib touched Zim he could *feel* his body beneath it, and all of the strange emotions that went along with this sensation.

Zim moaned a bit and swayed in his chair, forcing Dib's decision. Dib carefully picked him up and began to maneuver him with great difficulty towards the waiting bed. Over the past year Dib had grown about a head taller than Zim, but within the past few weeks Zim had now ballooned out to the size of a, well, an extremely pregnant Irken. He was heavy, but not as heavy as a human his size would be - Dib supposed that was probably because Zim wasn't composed of water as humans were. He was still pretty hard to carry. Dib had to get a good grip on his legs and under his arms, and make sure that his head was laying against his shoulder. The thin gown revealed flesh cold to the touch in some places, warm and even hot nearer to the belly area.

Zim's skin had actually changed colours three times last week - once to yellow and then to purple, and was now settled to a sort of greenish blue, nearer to the colour Dib knew him to be. He limbs has wasted away to skin and bone, and then puffed up with unnatural mass. He'd started sleeping twenty hours a day, and babbling incoherently whenever he was awake.

Dib lay Zim down on the bed and tried stepped back, rubbing his arms. It was extremely disturbing to him to feel at close quarters just how sick Zim was, and to know that it was partly, if not fully, his fault. It was also very unsettling to feel in full force the same fascination with and, well, odd attraction to Zim's body that had drawn him in on that night that they'd. . .caused this.

Biting his lip, Dib reached out and put his hand on Zim's stomach. Struggling to grow and survive in their confined space, his children gurgled and squirmed beneath his hand. They were strong. They'd inherited Zim's ferocity.

Suddenly Zim reached up and grabbed Dib's hand in a crushing grip. His eyes open and alight, Zim glared at Dib with a lucidity he hadn't thought possible anymore.

"Dib human."

Dib winced and pulled his hand away. "Yeah, Zim."

Zim stared him in the eye and suddenly looked lost again. He reached out.

"Dib. . .human. . ." Zim spoke a few words more in Irken that Dib couldn't make any sense of at all - whatever translation device Zim used had been periodically malfunctioning since this whole thing began, causing him to lapse into his own native tongue.

"What?" Asked Dib, looking around. "Are you hungry again? Do you want some more wood flakes? Plasticine?"

Zim held out his hand. . .and Dib hesitantly put his own hand back where it was, back for Zim to grasp and ponder and sniff. After examining it for a minute or so, Zim finally tossed it away.

"Your hand is. . .stupid." Zim declared. He closed his eyes and for a moment Dib thought he would retreat back into unconsciousness. But then he opened them again and stared Dib straight in the eye. He seemed a bit out of breath but his voice was clear enough.

"Your eyes are stupid. Your. . .flesh-tentacle is stupid. Your stupid head is so. . .stupid."

"Hmmph. But it's not big." Muttered Dib under his breath. Zim caught it, of course.

"If all of your offspring have inherited your head, then yes, it's far too big. I have to pass them all, remember." Zim looked away.

These were the first cogent words that Zim had said in at least a week, and though he should probably be happy at this seeming sign of recovery, Dib couldn't help but bristle. Did every word that came out of Zim's mouth have to be an insult? He turned to empty out the handy-suck into the sink.

"Dib-human?"

Dib turned back. "Yeah, Zim?"

Zim was still looking away at the wall beside him.

"Your sire said. . .he called me. . .your mate."

Dib rinsed out the cleaning instrument and closed it back up. "I think the word he used was 'paramour.' They're not the same thing."

"Oh. My translator is. . .malfunctioning. What's the difference then?"

"Well. . ." Dib frowned. "Paramour means somebody who. . .loves you, I guess, somebody that you love too."

"Hmmph. And 'mate' means. . .'bonded,' for genetic compatibility, to create offspring." Zim laid his hands on his belly. "We are not either."

Dib hung the cleaning tool up on the wall for easy access later. He looked at Zim, and then down at his feet. He shrugged. "No, I guess we're not."

Zim seemed to be struggling to stay awake now. Struggling to breath, even.

"Come here, Dib-human."

Dib looked once again at Zim, who was staring him in the eye, his expression unreadable. He approached the bed.

Zim took Dib's hand and laid it on his belly.

"You wanted to feel this? Feel it." Zim's mouth made a hard line across his face. "There are some base species that only bond for a moment. Long enough to copulate. . .to create their young. To mate in this way. That's what we did - I understand now."

"I didn't - I didn't know!-"

Zim shook his head. "We mated. You stupid. . ." Zim took a deep breath. "My stupid mate." Zim looked away. "I. . .You. . .You want your offspring to be. To exist. To survive, yes?"

Dib looked down and shrugged. "Of course I do."

"Well they won't! They're dying! I'm. . .not doing as well. . .as I might." Zim tried to lift himself up, but instead couldn't. Instead he drew Dib in close. "I. . .we need to go to Hospitalia." His voice lowered to barely a whisper. "We. . .need. . .help. I need help. Help. . .please."

Zim closed his eyes to avoid Dib's gaze. His frown faded and his breath evened out. Dib checked the monitor - he was slipping deep into unconsciousness again. He held Zim's hand a moment more before setting it back to rest at his side.

Dib sat and watched Zim for a few moments more. Then went back upstairs to rest himself before Zim's next bout - he would undoubtedly need more cleaning and care soon, the way things had been going recently. For now he was glad for the rest, and the time to think.

***************

Punching in the last of the recovered code, Dib stood back waited trepidatiously for the static to clear. It was replaced by an alien smiley face, and what Dib only assumed must be a 'please wait' message.

Then they appeared on the screen - the two very tall Irkens that Dib had seen once before in his life, looking very perturbed. The one with purple eyes started babbling in Irken, and Dib scrambled to find the translator button.

". . .and the rest of your sorry family on planet Seweria for pirating this transmission code."

Dib caught himself fidgeting, but remembered exactly who he was dealing with, and lifted his chin defiantly.

"You're. . .the Tallest?"

The one Dib had dubbed Purple put his hands on his hips.

"Well, duhhh."

Dib blinked. He hadn't expected them to remind him so much of a pair of bratty teenagers.

"Look. This is Zim's transmittor. . .you know Zim, right? You sent him to conquer Earth."

The two Irkens exchanged a look.

"Yeah. We know him. How did you get ahold of his equipment? He isn't by any chance dead, is he?" The pair leaned forward expectantly and Dib got a strange sinking feeling in his stomach.

"No, he's not. . .but he's sick."
The one with red eyes snickered. "Yeah, yeah. Reached a new height of ineptitude and got himself pregnant by some human."

Dib coughed and tried not to turn red. "Yeah, well, he really does need to your help now. He isn't getting any better, and we don't know enough about his physiology to help him any more than we already have. He's been in some in some kind of coma for the past few days. . .I would have called sooner but his equipment is programmed for self-defence. We think he's dying."

"Oh. Is that all?"

"Boo hoo. We'll send a team to pick up his equipment so you earth-monkeys can't make use of it."

"What?" The pair didn't seem bothered in the slightest and Dib realized that he really could dislike the two more than he already did.

"I said, we'll send a team to pick up his stuff. Make sure it's all there because if they have to. . ."

"But. . .you can help him! He said that at this. . .Hospitalia, or whatever - "

"You seem to be assuming that we want to help Zim. Frankly we'll all be happier once he's gone. Right, guys?" Red pointed to a passing soldier. "Hey you - Zim's dying."

"Yay!" The soldier gave a high-five to one of his friends nearby.

Dib gaped. He knew that they must be pretty peeved at Zim for taking so long to conquer Earth, but as far as he knew they were still backing him.

"But. . .he's your operative. You trusted him with this mission-"

"-We sent him to your backwater planet because we wanted him out of our way. It's a punishment, only he's too stupid to have figured it out."

"So. . .you won't help him?"

"No. And what do you care? He's been trying to destroy your planet for the past four years. . .wait. You're that human, aren't you?" The pair looked at Dib like his skin had started oozing purple slime.

"I can't even express how disgusting we think you are."

"Even though we're very grateful that you've finally succeeded in getting rid of Zim. . ."

"Some things are just. . .wrong."

"And really, really gross."

"Yeah," replied Dib weakly. "Um. . .when are you going to send his replacement?"

The Tallest stepped back from the viewer and cringed.

"Oh, that's just SICK!"

"No! I mean. . .I want to know when I'm going to have to start fighting for my planet again."

"Oh. Rest easy, human. Your planet's not worth the torpedo it would take to destroy it. No resources of any value, and a populace that wouldn't even make decent drink-server slaves."

"Someday, maybe, if we're out your way and we need more crushed rock for our parking structures." Red winked and shot Dib with his finger.

"Until then, thanks. And make sure to leave Zim's stuff where it is."

Purple waved to one of the panel operators, and the screen faded back to static.

"Yeah." Dib leaned on one of the panels, feeling ill.