Chapter Text
Fyodor wasn’t stupid.
Well- That was actually an understatement. Fyodor was a genius. So of course, his megamind brain knew that the inevitable would someday happen. He Understood that he would die eventually. He could just get murdered for the rest of his days, and have them be infinite, but really, that would be such a bother. Also being murdered hurt his kneecaps. And it made him sad.
So one day, as he was rocking out to “shape of you”, He got a really skibidi alpha Idea. He would manipulate a pregnant woman into killing him, and once he had come back as mpreg, give birth to himself. That way, Fyodor 2.0. Could carry out whatever he didn’t have the energy to finish.
Giggling like a child that just made a fart joke, he wormed his way over to the grocery store, where soon enough, a woman whose name was probably Chloe or Kelsey or something like that walked over to the fruit aisle. She was sporting one of those overpriced modest pregnancy shirts that “good christian women” Buy on amazon. He twerked over,pretending to examine the nikolai fruit at the beginning of the aisle. Despite not paying much actual attention to it, he was able to determine that this was, in fact, the fruitiest of all the fruits.
Once he had walked up to her completely, he decided to act like one of her friends from yoga class probably would.
“Ohmaga HEY GUUURRRLLLL!!! LOVIN’ THE NEW FIT!!!” He squealed like a constipated chicken.
“AW THANK YOUUUUUUU!! I GOT IT OFF OF AMAZON!!! ONLY THE BEST FOR MY BABY!! And anyone who doesn’t buy unnecessarily expensive pregnancy stuff is automatically a HORRIBLE MOTHER.” She squealed back in her really punchable voice. “My name’s Harold, by the way!” She did the :> emoticon. Well, Harold was not what he was expecting out of someone so basic, but it was not going to alter his plan in any way.
“Oh! What a UNIQUE NAME!!! May I ask if your child’s will compare?”
“Her name will be Moonsongdarkwingwhiskerkiss. Middle name is Harry styles.” Harold bragged.
“O-oh? How…. um… Creative?” Fyodor decided right then and there that he was doing this child a favor. “Hey, harold? My doctor suggested an organic treatment for my neck pain, but I need your help.”
Now, Harold was all for anything organic, so she agreed. “Ooh! Organic? Do tell!”
“Great! Can you stab me in the throat please?” Fyodor said, batting his greasy eyelashes. Harold looked taken aback, but went ahead and did it because she had her brain replaced with a raisin (she read in a catalog that it’s healthier).
The blood poured out of fyodor as he lay on the ground. Harold screamed as her brand new modest good mom shirt got blood stains on it, but her screams were cut short as she was replaced by the very person she had just killed.