+J.M.J.+
Title: This Shouldn't be Happening...
Author: "Matrix Refugee"
AU Scenario: What if Mpreg was possible among programs...
Rating: PG-13 (Slash, Merovingian/Flood, but nothing graphic)
WARNING: Read at your own risk...
Author's Note: I originally wrote this as a short fic for LiveJournal's "31days" short fic challenge for October 14th: "The alternation of generations"; it's an idea that I've had poking at me for a while, and I thought it was time that I gave it a go. I've seen "Matrix" Mpreg done before, but usually not rather well: there's often too many of the usual Mpreg cliches and not enough thought about how it might happen, or how the character might really react to that event... and whether it might be possible, given the fact that the gender of programs, ie. pure programs, meaning Exiles in this universe, is most likely somewhat ambiguous. After all, their shells are made up of 1s and 0s. Then I wondered who might try this sort of experiment and why. ...And when I considered the friction between the Merovingian and Flood, his second in command in the "Matrix Online" RPG, I realized this just might be the scenario. Who really knows what "other duties as assigned" really means when you work for a sadistic, manipulative horn-dog like the Merv...
Also, please note, this is very, very AU: There's clearly peace among the humans, the Machines of the System, and the Exiles, and all parties involved are clearly making a conscious effort to get along with each other. And from the look of things as I'm plotting this out, Neo and Trinity are still alive.
Special thanks goes to "sugargerbil" on LiveJournal, for the title for the first chapter, which I based on a phrase culled from a comment posted to this fic.
Disclaimer: I don't own the "Matrix" series, its characters, concepts or other indicia, which belong to the Wachowski Brothers, Paul Chadwick, Warner Brothers, Village Roadshow Pictures, Joel Silver Productions, Burlyman Entertainment, Monolith, Sony Online Entertainment, etc.
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Chapter One: Involuntary Surrogate
The Merovingian dismounted from his male consort's lean form and lay back on his pillows, gazing at the pale-haired young male with condescending affection. Almost as a reflex, Flood turned over on his side, facing away from his superior and pulled himself to the furthest edge of the mattress, as if trying to distance himself from the male program who'd had him pinned to the mattress for the past hour. Yet, he did not rise and leave: he clearly was waiting for the soreness and the discomfort in his shell to subside.
The elder program's thoughts strayed elsewhere, to other members of his circle, to other Exiles in his service... He had seen some of them producing new young programs, some by directly coding them, others in a manner little different for human reproduction. He'd had himself coded to be able to beget offspring and had begged his wife to consent to be coded to carry his heir. But out of vanity, she had refused his wishes. After pleading with her to no avail, he had turned to the one or two mistresses he had taken among the Exiles, but they also had refused him, to their folly.
A thought crossed his rational centers, a thought so strange and amusing that it caused the corners of his mouth to turn up in cruelly delighted smirk. It was perfect: if there was anything that would take some of the overweening superiority out of Flood, this might be it, and considering how little the younger program knew regarding physiology, this would very well be the ideal tactic: the bleached-blond young dandy would never suspect a thing until his condition became visible.
He propped himself up on one elbow and edged closer to Flood. The younger male flinched, and gathered himself as if to push off his superior, but the Merovingian laid a firm but gentle hand over Flood's dark eyes, causing the lesser program to relax into a deep sleep.
Once he could see that Flood had reverted to sleep mode, the Merovingian reached into the lesser program's shell. Finding the traces of his own code within the younger male's being, he fused it with some of Flood's code, then folded part of the code that comprised his inferior's shell and formed from it a resting place for the new intelligence that had just begun to exist...
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Flood awakened a short while later and glanced over his shoulder to find his superior drowsing on the pillows next to him. As he started to sit up, the Merovingian awoke with a soft rumble of pleasure.
"Are you leaving me so soon, ma cher?" he asked, a sly smile crossing his face.
"It's late and I have a security walk to conduct before I settle down for the night," Flood said, rising and seeking out his clothes.
"Ever the responsible one," the Merovingian replied, watching him. "Be on your way, and take all the care that is due to the entities I have entrusted into your safekeeping."
"I will, of course," Flood said, wondering what the older program meant by that remark.
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For nearly two months afterwards Flood did not suspect anything had happened to him that night. Yet, he could not help noticing -- to his relief -- that his superior no longer sent for him at night, to tend to those "other duties as assigned" which the Merovingian had delegated to him. And yet, he had the odd sensation that something about him had changed; something was happening that shouldn't occur, but he could not yet put a gloved finger on what it could be.
He started to wonder what was up when his waist started to thicken, requiring him to have his vests retailored. There was no explanation for that: he rarely ate, except when it was required of him for appearances' sake, thus it couldn't be weight gain.
He was turning these possibilities over in his mind as he pored over some much-needed accounting, when he had the neck-hair prickling sensation that someone was staring at his waist from the side. He looked up from the spreadsheet he was examining and discovered Cain and Abel looking at the front of his vest with a mixture of curiosity and mischief.
"Getting a little heavy in the sneakers, eh, Flood?" Cain asked, the corners of his mouth tweaking up in a grin.
"They're not sneakers, you uncouth imbecile: these are Gucci oxfords," Flood retorted, turning his gaze away from them. "And if it's my beltline your referring to, it's only fluid retention."
"Or did the boss decide to have some fun with your code and make you more cuddle-able for those 'other duties as assigned'?" Abel asked, jolting a little as Cain stepped on his toes. He knew that they knew what went on in their superior's bedchamber at night: they'd probably seen the security camera feed.
"My code is as right as rain, I'll have you both to know," Flood replied, coolly, trying to hide the quiver of embarrassment and concern that ran through his shell.
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At his wits' end, Flood brought up the matter to his superior later that evening, when they were attending to some of the off-shore accounts.
The Merovingian smiled and ran his gaze fondly down Flood's form. "Have you not yet deduced what could be the cause of these changes in your appearance? Have you not scanned your own code?"
"I have, but I found nothing more anomalous than a cluster of your code, doubtlessly left after our last...encounter."
The Merovingian leaned back in his chair. "So naif despite all your years and experience. You are with child. My child."
Flood stared at his superior. "How is that possible? Something like that shouldn't be happening: To begin with, I'm male, or is this some aspect of having a humanoid shell that I was not made aware of?"
"Indeed, by appearances and structure, you are male; but you, like every other program, are in essence genderless. Thus, in the hands of a master, the code in your shell can be manipulated and modified, however the one in control needs it to be changed."
Flood felt his mouth growing dry. "So you changed me into ...a female?"
"Rather, I modified your shell to be a temporary partial hermaphrodite. The better to carry my offspring without altering you beyond recognition."
Something shorted in Flood's "brain"; he saw the room turn brighter and spin around him, then it went dark; but at the same time, he felt someone catch him before he hit the floor...
To be continued...