Hey, school's starting pretty soon, so I won't be able to update much. But don't worry because I've got half a chapter written to every story I have, so I won't leave you guys hanging! Plus, I have like...eighteen unpublished, and half done one shots...Oh, what have you done to me ADOMMY?

Oh, god…Oh my fucking god. This has to be a mistake. I'll call the company, and then they can tell me what's happening. Yea, that sounds logical, right? That I just fucking call them and they tell me this is just one huge ass mistake. That'll calm me down. I mean, I am a MAN for Christ's sakes, and it's a WOMAN'S job to pop out the kids, not a dude's. I mean, that's just illogical. It's impossible. It's indescribable. Stop it Tommy Joe. You're freaking out over nothing. A man being pregnant is about as believable as a person having sex with a goat and that goat popping out human-goat babies. Yea, human-goat babies. Oh SHIT! Wasn't there a story on the news about that? About a man who married a goat? No, my mom just…

SHUT UP! Get a grip. Just look at the fucking number, dial it and get it OVER with. Do you really think putting scenarios in your head will abort this fucking kid? Do you? No, so just call them, let them tell you that it's a huge ass mistake and break the pregnancy test in half. When Adam asked what happened to it, you just say you threw it away by accident. Do I make myself clear Tommy Joe?

For once, I'm happy you're talking to me about something, oh clever mind of mine. So, I followed the rational part of my brain and dialed the phone number. Ring. Ring. Ring- HOW MANY FUCKING RINGS DOES IT TAKE TO CALL PREGNANCY PEOPLE-?

"Hello. Have you any complications with your pregnancy test?" It sounded like a kind woman's voice on the phone, but I didn't care if I was talking to the fucking queen of England. This was MY time to be worried.

"Hi. I just…" I trailed off when I began to put the pieces together of what I was actually going to tell this woman.

Tommy, you can't tell her you took it! First of all, she'll ask why you took it in the first place. Second of all, if you tell her that it came out positive, she'll think you're a freak, hang up and probably call the authorities on your sorry ass. Remember, you're a man that's questionably pregnant. Not many people are going to be on your side about this. So think of an alternative story to tell this woman, okay?

"I mean…My girlfriend just took your pregnancy test, but she can't have kids because her tubes got tied. But she's been having morning sickness and has had immense headaches. But it's impossible for her to get pregnant, right?" I asked, biting on my shiny, chipped gray nails. They were already mutilated from the last six weeks. All the sex has been pleasurable hell (if that makes sense), but I was still nervous about Lily finding out. Until last week, my main problem was just not biting my cuticles to the point where they bleed profusely. But now I think I have bigger problems than a manicure 911. Like, I don't know…Have a fucking kid inside me. Oh, and if you haven't already guessed, I love the word fuck. Just the way it slips from your tongue. No, Tommy. Get a grip…

"Sir, if our tests read that she was pregnant and she has all the symptoms to early pregnancy…" OH GOD. I have all the issues I just described to her about my fake girlfriend. No, no…It's just not fucking possible. I just have swine flu. I never thought that I would rather have the disease that's killing hundreds of people than be fucking pregnant. It's selfish, I know. "…then she's more than likely pregnant. We've never received any information from one of our customers where a test has failed. So either the surgery went wrong, or your girlfriend is reading it incorrectly. But either way I think you're going to be a daddy…" Mommy is more like it. If I were to have this kid and Adam and I were in a relationship, I sure as hell could not see him taking on the mommy role. I'd be the one being butt fucked upside down and changing diapers. "…Congratulations. Good bye." Then she hung up. It began to buzz in my ear. I took in a sharp breath and put my phone back in my pocket, looking in the mirror at my reflection, trying to process the information I had just received and was forced to believe.

I didn't want her to hang up. I wanted to punch her in the face and tell her she was dead, fucking wrong. Even if the story I told her was a complete lie, the symptoms and various events in that lie were true. I had been throwing up lately; I was having pounding migraines, and the pregnancy test read positive. But I'm a guy. So this isn't possible. I still didn't want to actually think that…

Yea, we all know you're a dude Tommy. No need to keep rubbing it in our faces. Just face it. New discoveries are being observed every day, and you're just going to be another experiment. The first pregnant man. Can't you imagine it being on headlines? You'll be the biggest freak since the bearded lady. And guess what. It's ADAM LAMBERT'S kid. But for all we know, his semen could have something to do with this uncalled pregnancy. For all we know, he could have tainted sperm. You just don't know. But the big question is: are you going to tell him?

N-No. I can't tell him. He's fucking Adam Lambert. I can't honestly just go up to him and say, 'Hey, about the first time you kind of raped me, but not really because you put lube on -anyway…I'm pregnant with your kid. Don't give me that face; I'm in an emotional state right now! I'm pregnant with your child Mr. Lambert, and I expect you to be the father!' No, that won't work. He'd laugh at me and tell me I was insane. Then he would use the truth I had just told him against me and kill me. I can't be pregnant.

There's no point in being in denial anymore. Remember when your mother sat you down and told you what happened when you were born? You remember don't you? That you were a human with both body parts that defined people's genders? That's why everyone doesn't like you and thinks you're a freak.

Listen, Ratliff. You're technically a boy, but you've got certain chick parts enabling you to have kids. So you either except it, get it aborted, or shut the fuck up and tell him. It's not like you can just have the kid and not tell him. That's virtually impossible. It is his kid by the way. You don't have to tell anyone else. Not even your mother.

How do I not tell my mom? She's the one that did this to me (not the getting me pregnant part, but the part that even made this shitty situation possible). She did drink a lot when she was pregnant with me, and all the consumption of alcohol must have messed up my organs! So, I'm not planning on giving my mother the 'Best Mommy of the Year Award'. FUCK ME! I CAN'T BE PREGNANT! THIS ISN'T LOGICAL!

Nausea suddenly over came me and I ran to the sink and threw up. Fuck. Me. It felt like my throat was upchucking blades. But I knew I couldn't just sit here and not do anything about it. I'll get to class, avoid Adam on my way out, and pretend I'm sick for the next tutoring session. When Monday comes, then I'm screwed. That or I'll just think of the best master plan ever.

And with that I quickly got my math book, looked at the pregnancy test one last time and threw it away. I gulped lightly and went on with the rest of the day, dreading when the dismissal bell rang.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…" I whispered lightly as I sped walked to the doors. Freedom, freedom! Just a little bit more until I'm out of this hellhole, I can go home and do all the research I have to do to get a hold of this situation, and avoid Adam for as long as possible. It's just a little more. Five more steps…four more…three more-

"Yo, Thomas!" Oh, god. It was that same honey voice that dripped with melody and ended on such a phenomenal high-pitched tone. Even when he called me by my dreaded birth name, I still loved hearing it leak out of his plump and contagiously gorgeous lips. "I wanna see it!" he called, running up to me, his long, slick legs taking wide strides towards my crippled body. Okay, so it wasn't really crippled, it was just in a state of not good. I was however, carrying a live person inside me…Oh, god. Now that I say it like that it's completely and utterly terrifying. I have a PERSON inside of my STOMACH. Wait, do they grow inside the stomach? Or is there a specific area for the thing? Shit, I need to read some books and know what I'm in for. But with this guy running up to me, I don't think he'll let me off that easily.

"Where's the test?" the practical demon angel asked, raising that fucking perfect eyebrow. He was currently leaning against the wall, arms crossed and blowing some of his troublesome raven-black bangs out of the way. There were a few mingling students here and there, but for the most part they had scattered to their homes. "I'm waiting."

It didn't even occur to me that I was dozing off. I was so freaking tired. I don't even remember the last time I actually got more than five hours of sleep. "I-I, threw it away by accident…" I whispered, looking to the side. I was literally, the worst liar on the face of the fucking planet. My eyes seemed to coat with guilt and my voice quivered. My mother, of course, used this to her advantage, so I could rarely lie to her. It was just one of my many flaws. I sucked at it and everyone knew it. Even Adam.

"Well, that's a flat out lie. So either give me the test or your stomach's gonna have a black and blue bruise soon." Adam threatened, balling his left hand into a fist. He had several glistening (and gaudy) rings on his index, thumb, and middle finger. How could I not have known he was gay before? Between all the make-up, hair style, and fashion sense, he was the GAY GOD.

"NO!" And I subconsciously (and much too obviously) grabbed my stomach in a protective way, glancing at him only slightly. Hey, if I've got a kid, I've got that "motherly instinct", right? "I-I mean…" I stuttered; sweat beginning to pour down my face and fresh amount of throw up making its way up to my throat. This sucked. Now I really felt bad for women and the disadvantages of being pregnant. Screw me.

It seemed like he knew I was about to throw up (or be sick) because his eyes widened and in a flash he was by my side patting my back slightly. "Dude, you look green. Are you gonna-" And for the second time today, I threw up by Adam. But this time on his perfectly leathered pants. And fuck if I knew what shit I had just barfed up on his pants! It was just green and blotchy and completely gross. But all I knew was that I was going to get a major ass beating for this.

I clenched my eyes shut, waiting for him to hit me for messing up his pants. But instead I was being lifted up and leaning against someone's hard chest. I slowly opened them to see I was being carried by Adam Lambert (bridal style, I mind you) out of the school. I gasped lightly and a deep blush penetrated my skin. What was he doing? If someone were to see him, he'd be the laughing stock of the school! I'm the loser at the bottom on the food chain, and he's the fucking shark. Why is he suddenly being so nice to me? This didn't make sense. I would think about six weeks ago if I were to barf on his pants, he would have sown my mouth shut so I would have to eat from my ass. "W-What are you doing?" I asked, genuinely freaked out by the sudden change of events. Not that I didn't enjoy it, it's just weird is all.

"What the hell does it look like I'm doing? You're as sick as a cow. I'm taking you home. Any other lame and obvious questions you want me to answer, Tommy?" he asked, looking down at me and raising an eyebrow. Just the way the sun radiated off his skin made me wonder if someone as gorgeous as him could possibly exist. And I have no idea why I'm giving him so much credit. He's such a fucking bastard to me. Or was a bastard. Actually, I honestly don't know anymore.

The cool wind blowing against my hot face helped my blush tone down some, but I could tell it was still there was very palpable. "I-I'm just confused is all. I don't know why you're being so nice to me…" I murmured, fiddling with my fingers and shutting my eyes half way. This was freaky. But I was too tired and sick to go any deeper into the conversation. Unless of course he deepened it for me.

"Shut up. It's not like it's a bad thing that I'm doing this, right?" he asked, glancing down at me with his perfectly transparent eyes. His eyes didn't seem to just be orbs on his face. They were much more demanding, and a lot more powerful than mine.

"Unless you're planning on banging me when we get to my house…" I mumbled, glaring lightly at the sidewalk that passed us as his leopard patterns boots clicked on the ground. I heard him sigh slightly (causing his coffee flavored breath to attack my face) and looked up at his pale and smooth face. "What?" I nearly hissed.

"Just I wish…I don't know. That we could…Or I could, maybe…" Adam sighed deeply again, his eyes showing great fight within them. What was wrong with him? I rarely ever see him nervous. "We could…I don't know…" he muttered, his hands tightening around my small body. And if I wasn't mistaken, they felt a bit clammy. Oh, this was too perfect. Could I really be making the great and unstoppable Adam Lambert nervous? Might as well drag this out and make his life utter hell. He has however, made me life in high school to be complete chaos. Oh, and did I mention he got me pregnant?

"No, Adam. Tell me…" I cooed in my sweetest and most flirtatious voice, allowing my long bangs to hang over my left eye, so nothing but my lips and big brown eye could look up at him with a puppy dog expression. "I'm sure it's not that bad. I mean, you're the one always beating me up and everything. So you shouldn't be cared to tell your victim what's wrong, right?" I questioned, going for a guilty trip. And it seemed to be working (insert evil laugh here).

His bottom lip seemed to exert out in a pout face and his eyes gazed down to the ground again. "No, I don't mean anything like that. I mean, I know I always pick on you and stuff, but…" He bit his lip and my heart just about burst right there. Oh. My. God. He looked completely and utterly adorable. And to top if all off, I could here his own heart pounding in his chest. It was like music to my ears to actually be this close to his vulnerable and fragile frame. "I don't know. I think you're…"

"Tommy! Baby!" Now that. That was my mother's voice. I wish she hadn't interrupted us because Adam was about to say something important. Something that could possibly put this entire 'I'm only here to fuck you' thing behind us and turn it into a blossoming relationship. But no. My mother had to ruin it with her worries! "Baby, what's wrong?" she asked, looking at me in the arms of a beautiful God.

"He's just not feeling well, Mrs. Ratliff. So I carried him home. I hope that's not a problem." Wow, he's polite. Now there's a word I never thought I'd being saying towards someone like Adam. But lately, he's been surprising me a lot.

"Not at all. Thank you for being so concerned. I'll see you tomorrow, Adam!" Lily said, smiling at him as he set me down. My stomach lurked, but I think I didn't have anything left in my stomach (except for a possible kid) to throw up, to be honest.

"Well…See you Tommy. Hope you feel better," the taller male said, playfully and gently punching me in the shoulder and practically sprinting off. My eyes lingered at him for awhile.

"I think you're…"

Shit, I really wished he had finished his sentence…