[https://absurdrealms.com/assets/images/anthology-i/flesh-run/birthing_pool_placeholder_med.jpg]

> Placeholder artwork (until human-made artwork is available) generated by Schizoid Nightmares on April 14, 2023, using NightCafe (Stable Diffusion v1.5), licensed under CC0 1.0.

An adult fetus is a contradiction in terms, but that is what I am: a contradiction. My body is fully grown — mature in every sense of the word. Yet, I am attached to an umbilical cord. At least, I think it is an umbilical cord. I am also suspended in a warm fluid. My arms and legs are free, but the fluid is thick. I hear a faint pulsing rhythm. My eyes, nostrils, and mouth are glued shut. I must still be inside my mother. I am safe inside her womb.

I feel my scalp press against a smooth membrane — the pulsing rhythm hurries. In one quick pop, my scalp pokes through the membrane seal. A flood of liquid flows across my body towards my head. If it were not for the gluey substance blocking my nostrils, the fluid would painfully rush straight up my nose. I sense gravity for the first time as the liquid washes away.

Head first, I am forced down a smooth muscular orifice in brief but powerful contractions. My head reaches the opening. A tepid, gentle breeze caresses my scalp. Warm fluid drains from my ears as I hear faint echoes of splashes. Now my upper half is nearly free of the orifice, I writhe and wiggle about. Two short contractions later, I’m dangling with only my ankles inside. I pull one foot loose, and the orifice lets go of the other.

I drop suddenly. The umbilical cord snaps off. I land head-first into a warm watery liquid. As I sink down, the glue on my eyes, nostrils, and mouth dissolves away. I struggle to turn upright, cusping my hands. There are heavy splashes continuously above me. After what seems like an eternity, I break the surface, gasping for my first breath. I nearly choke as my head barely stays atop. My eyes sting when I open them. I am in a circular pool, surrounded by a lipped edge. Beyond, a warm glow radiates upwards.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

There are others, dozens at least. A few barely moving at the surface, most lifelessly sinking out of sight, and several dropping from the orifices attached to the ceiling. Only the sound of snaps and splashes fills the cavity. A moist pinkish-red tissue lines everything around us, softly illuminated by the warm glow beyond the pool’s edge.

My skin starts to sting and then burn. A thin layer of slime builds up on my skin. My eyes feel like they are dissolving. I try rubbing the sting out, but it only makes it worse. The burning turns to fiery itching. One after the other, I jumble and whirl my arms, pathetically plodding toward the edge, keeping my chin as high as I can. My scrimpy arms struggle to pull me forward. I turn on my back, using my legs and swing my arms backwards.

I see a quivering orifice right overhead. It opens and starts pushing someone out. My flagging strokes hasten. The orifice lets the person loose. Their cord snaps, and they fall near my feet into the liquid.

Finally, and expended, I reach the lipped pool’s edge and arduously try to force myself over, its slippery surface making it only worse. Compared to the weightlessness of the liquid, my body feels ten times heavier. My scrawny arms shake, and my weak muscles tear. A thousand thorns feel like they are piercing and ripping at my skin. The stinging liquid only continues to eat away and dissolve me.

There is no clemency for rest. I wrap my hands around the lipped edge once more. My fingers grip onto some cartilage that I didn’t feel before. I straighten my arms and brace the soles of my feet against the edge’s curved wall. With all my meagre might, I pull and pull as my soles slip against the wall’s slimy texture. Somehow, I pull myself over the edge, at last liberating my body from the pool.