WARNING and NOTE: This is an MPREG story. If you don't know, it's male pregnancy. This story is NOT OOC, perverted, gross, weird, or bad in any way. It is also AxI. It's a serious story I wrote just to see if I can place the characters in this situation. If you don't like this subject matter, please be kind to us both and don't read.
Also, I'm not all that sure what the "right" way to do a male pregnancy is. I did it the best/most plausible way I could. Please don't be nit-picky and just enjoy the story. I didn't post this for a long time because I was worried that the readers and my fans (who I love oh so much) wouldn't like it. But someone else recently posted a little story with Alucard been pregnant, and it gave me courage. Besides, I like it and I hope you will to.
Leave a review! Tell me what you think!
Rain clouds gathered over the Hellsing Mansion.
A black armored car disguised as a luxury vehicle pulled up in front of its gates. An unseen nod was given to the guards, and the steel doors swung open. The driver, slightly gray in his late sixties, drove inside and came to a stop before the main entrance. He stepped outside and looked up at the darkening sky. No moon tonight, only lightning slicing their way through the sky. Perhaps it was better they had left early after all.
Courteously, he opened the back door and stepped aside to allow his passenger to exit. He waited, then leaned forward with a curious eye when no one did.
Wrapped loosely in a shawl of white lace, the woman inside turned to him and was silent for a second, as if lost in some forlorn dream. Seeing him, she shook herself.
"I'm sorry, Walter," she said, and stepped out of the car. He did not offer a hand to help her and she did not need one. A pair of new close-toed high heels dangled from one slender hand. On the other was a small red mark, a souvenir of when she had scratched herself slapped away the too-eager hand that belonged to the son of one of the Convention of Twelve members. He was wearing an overly decorated gold watch. She stood under the rain clouds, straight and tall like a soldier. Lightning struck again, reflecting themselves in her blue eyes.
Walter studied her up and down, then shook his head slightly. "Another failed evening," he said. "The Queen will not be pleased, Miss Integra."
"Maybe not," replied the young woman evenly. "But I do not think she would have been pleased either had I allowed one of those half-wit, power-hungry, man-children into the doors of Hellsing." She looked down at the shoes in her hand. One of them had a scuffed tip, the result of clumsy dancers stepping on her foot one time too many while trying to impress her with fancy moves. She tossed them back into the car and headed toward the mansion barefoot.
"What would you like me to do with these?" Walter called after her.
"Burn them," came the irritated order. Walter watched the disappearing figure, cocktail dress hiked up to her knees and striding like any proud man would, and smiled. Some things never change.
Integra Hellsing made her way inside the mansion doors and closed them behind her. She had originally intended to storm to her room and lock herself in, in an attempt to forget the whole evening and proceed with business as usual tomorrow. But as soon as she began to climb the stairs, the muscles in her legs moaned in protest. Spending an evening pretending to have a good time while wearing nerve-pinching high heels had been more grueling than any Median encounters. Gritting her teeth, Integra pulled herself up the stairs.
Instead of going to her bedroom, however, she found herself in the dark office where she had spent the majority of her time since age thirteen. In her mind she knew every inch of the room, from its stonewalls to the shelves filled with research material to her father's portrait on the wall. A lamp sat on the dark mahogany desk covered with papers. Instead of turning it on, she felt around by instinct and found the drawer she was looking for on the first try. From it she removed a half-empty box of cigars.
Thunder rumbled overhead as she held the cigar between her teeth and pulled over the heavy drapes. The clouds were becoming increasingly thick. Any second now London would be pounded by black rain. Integra didn't mind. She usually enjoyed rain. A sneer curved at the corner of her mouth as she imagined the stuffed-shirt "gentlemen" trying to dash through the rain to their waiting rides.
She lit the cigar, puffed, and watched the smoke weave its way toward the ceiling, savoring the silence. A heavy mist surrounded the room, something else that she had become used to at a very young age.
"How was your evening, Miss Hellsing?"
She tapped the ashes into a nearby ashtray. "If you wish to speak, servant," she said coolly, "come out and look me in the face."
There was a moment of hesitation, then the mist faded, leaving the looming figure of the resident vampire in its place. He was dressed in his usual fashion, minus the hat and sunglasses. On his face was a smug grin, which she found quite annoying.
"Are you going to lord over me the fact that you predicted this evening to be a disaster?"
Alucard chuckled, shaking his head. "How can I lord anything over my master?" he asked slyly and circled around her. She didn't look at him, knowing to encourage him in this mood was asking for unwanted trouble. "Your hair is up."
"I always hated it when you wore your hair up. It looks so stuffy."
Integra turned her back to him. "Then undo it for me," she said, then added as she felt his hand move toward the zipper on her dress, "the hair, Alucard."
She heard him snigger, and sensed his disappointment at been caught. A cool breeze brushed by her neck, massaged it, then moved upward soothingly around her skull. Every stifling pin in her hair snapped outward all at once, and fell to the floor with a series of soft "click"s. Her blond mane dropped like a waterfall to her waist.
"Thank you," she said, raising the cigar to her lips again. A gloved hand caught her hand and turned it, revealing the scratch mark.
"Might I venture a guess at how you received this?"
"You'd be right. Is it that noticeable?"
"No," Alucard replied, still holding her hand. "I have keen eyes." He leaned closer to her. "I am able to spot every mark, scratch, imperfection"—he took the cigar out of her mouth with his free hand—"and perfections of my master."
Integra pulled her hand out of his. "That's enough," she said sternly, walking away. "I must retire."
"The evening is young, Miss Hellsing." Alucard laid the cigar on the desk and pointed at the Grandfather clock standing alone in the corner of the office, concealed by shadows. "It's barely eleven o'clock. On a normal night, you would be at your desk, whittling away at those boring papers until Walter begged you to go to bed."
This was true. Integra sighed. "I have no energy tonight."
Alucard moved in front of her, between her and the door. "Must you continue to attend these tiresome functions, master?" he asked seriously. "They drain you even more than I wish to."
"Do not pretend to be ignorant," Integra snapped. "You know as well as I that these parties are held for my benefit only. It is by the order of the Queen and the request of the Convention of Twelve that I find a fitting partner and produce an heir to the Hellsing headship as soon as possible."
"Master, you speak of yourself as if you were nothing but a common breeding mule."
"It makes no difference in this case."
"It does," said Alucard firmly, towering over her. "I will not have my master spoken about in such a way. Besides,"—he leaned down to her level. She took a step back but he moved closer still—"you're young. There are plenty of good years ahead of you for finding a suitor, especially now that the war is over."
"I'm twenty-six, Alucard. By tradition, I should be long-married at this point."
"Since when do you care for tradition?" He lifted a strand of blond hand, running his fingers through it. Integra shook it out of his hand.
"Stop that. I'm not a little girl anymore."
"No," Alucard said with a thin smile and moved his face closer to hers, sampling the fragrance of her skin. "You're certainly not..."
She stepped out of his way so quickly that he nearly stumbled. Quickly composing himself, Alucard watched Integra move behind the huge desk and sit down, still in her blue cocktail dress. In spite of her cloth, however, she radiated dignity and authority from behind that desk, as she usually did. She turned on the lamp.
"I'm going to work," she declared. "Because, as you said, it is still early in the evening and the Median migration cases will not analyze themselves. Therefore, I suggest you go amuse yourself somewhere else."
For a second she thought he was going to protest, but he did not. Instead, he tilted his head and eyed her in a most peculiar way.
"Are you truly willing to subject yourself to all this just for an heir, Integra?"
"You know I have no choice."
"What of your virgin body? Are you so desperate to continue the family line that you will hand it over to the first oily-haired oaf who comes along with a proposition?"
If looks could kill, Alucard would have been very glad he was already dead as Integra pierced him several times over with her steel-blue eyes.
"First of all, vampire," she said with dangerous slowness, "I do not ever wish to hear you refer to my body in any context. Second, if you are insulting me, I suggest you remove yourself from my line of sight before I force something sliver down your gullet."
To her surprise, he bowed. "I apologize," he said. "I did not wish to insult you. Rather, I wish to offer you a choice."
"Of been able to produce an heir to the Hellsing family. An heir whose blood is not contaminated by those lowlifes who are not even worthy of licking your shoe."
"What are you getting at, servant?"
"If you are interested, you will seek me out," said Alucard teasingly, melting away into the shadows. "I trust it to be a more attractive option than propositioning the person whose watch gave you that scar tonight."
Feeling the color rise to her cheeks, Integra instinctively felt for the mark on her hand. Refusing to let the vampire have the last word, she said loudly before he fully disappeared, "perhaps I shall proposition Anderson. After all, he is no longer a priest."
The look on Alucard's face was priceless.