Chapter Text
After several hours of arguing with their diabetic brother and caretaker about the complexities of life and the severe consequences of their actions, Alvin and Simon decided to pack up and leave the house, taking their records, clothes, a few rations, and many other things. After spending a half hour dragging their bags to the sidewalk and off David Seville’s property, Simon whipped out his phone (approximately the same size as him) and scrolled through the Uber app, trying to find a taxi.
Meanwhile, Alvin could feel his tummy getting worse and worse. The longer he stood, the stronger the pains would get.
“Simon…” Alvin stuttered, sounding faint, “How much longer until we get in a car?”
“Hold on, sweet cheeks,” Simon said in a somewhat heroic tone of voice, “I just called for a taxi. Should be here in five minutes. After that, we’ll book into a hotel and stay there until the babies arrive.”
Alvin began to break down into tears: “Simon… I’m scared.”
“Don’t be.” Simon said reassuringly, approaching Alvin for a brotherly hug, “There’s nothing we could’ve done. They don’t serve abortions to chipmunks. They’re speciesists, Alvin.”
“Is that a word or technicality for species racists?” Alvin asked, still crying, and his voice all wobbly.”
“I…” Simon paused, “I think so…”
Alvin and Simon continued to be in a hug until a taxi arrived, parking right next to them. The taxi driver, using a button on the car’s front seat terminal, opened the left back seat door for them. Simon helped Alvin get into the car. Due to the excessive amount of weight he’s collected due to his pregnancy, he's become too heavy to even leave two feet off the ground, a task that would’ve been no problem for him, but now IS thanks to his ass becoming fat with babies.
After tossing the bags in, the two chipmunks cuddled into each other for warmth, as the door closed and the car started to move.
The pain in Alvin’s stomach started to worsen. And the amount of bumps and potholes the car had to soldier through didn’t help.
Alvin started to groan in pain: “Oh Christ, Simon…”
Simon grabbed Alvin’s tiny rodent paw and squeezed it tightly, “It’s okay. Hey, taxi driver. Can we change our destination?”
The taxi driver rolled his eyes: “Alright, fine. But, I’m increasin’ the cost of the drive by 25 per cent, got it?” (NOTE: The taxi driver is from Brooklyn.)
“Yes,” Simon replied in compliance, “Could you drive us to the nearest hospital, please?”
The taxi driver nodded. He continued to drive.
Alvin was cradling his belly. It hurt too much. He wanted to cry. But he knew crying, especially at an ear-piercing decimal level would be unfair to Simon and the taxi driver.
Suddenly, a loud churning sound generated from his tummy, and in a couple of seconds, Alvin started to hyperventilate: “Oh God, oh God, oh f*ck..!”
“Alvin, sweetie,” Simon asked concernedly, “What’s wrong?”
“I, I think I’m gonna give birth!” Alvin yelled, “Here it comes!”
“OH NO!” The taxi driver screamed in his Brooklyn accent before stopping the car to a screeching halt, “I’m not lettin’ some hom*osexual chipmunk give birth in my car! The last time that happened, my f*cking dick of a boss decreased my salary.
Using a button at the car’s front seat terminal, he busted the back left door open: “You two are welcome to leave!”
“OH COME ON!” Simon yelled angrily, “My brother’s about to give BIRTH! Could you at least notify some paramedics of our location before you bounce!? My phone’s out of battery!”
“NO!” The taxi driver yelled, “Get out of my car, NOW!”
He moved his hairy Brooklyn hand to the back and smacked Alvin, Simon, and their luggage out of the automobile. The two and their packing landed on the pavement just outside the hotel they requested to go to previously. The Brooklyn taxi driver laughed semi-maniacly before the doors closed automatically and he drove off.
Simon, besides a tiny bruise on his elbow, was perfectly fine, and the bag they incased their belongings in remained intact, without any holes being opened or any material being torn. But Alvin… Alvin was a whole other story.
Alvin was beginning to roll around on the ground fast, feeling the pain in his tummy get worse. (Fun fact, he landed directly on his stomach.)
Simon picked himself up off the ground, ran over to his impregnated incestual brother, and reached for his paw. Alvin grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly, as he felt an odd object slowly crawl out of his asshole.
“OH f*ck!” The red-hoodie-wearing chipmunk said in pain and suffering. Two rectangular objects shot out of his asshole slobbered in the male-body-equivalent to a female’s vagin*l fluids. The two rectangular objects began to emit crying noises, noises remarkably similar to a baby human. Alvin let go of Simon whilst hyperventilating while Simon did some investigation and examined the two objects.
Alvin had given birth to TWO Amazon packages, cardboard and all. Simon approached the boxes, and, using his razor-sharp claws, cut both of them open with ease. He turned the folds over, and there lay two little chipmunks, crying immensely, surrounded by styrofoam packing peanuts, but, instead of being made of styrofoam, they were made of flesh. Simon picked up the two little rascals. They both cooed and wooed happily in his arms. He approached Alvin, who while wearing his infamous hoodie that was covered in liquids, was completely comfortable. The nightmare was finally over.
Simon handed one of the newborns to Alvin: “For you.”
Alvin took the child out of Simon’s left arm, grabbing it gently. He stared down at the hairless newborn for a while, before saying:
“Now this… This is better than a rock concert.”
Alvin and Simon, their two newborns wrapped in their hoodies, dragged themselves and their luggage towards a nearby alleyway. There, there was a fire coming out of a trash bin (you know, one of those cylindered metal ones.)
The two boys and their babies approached the fire slowly.
Simon turned to Alvin, and said: “On three…. One…”
“Two…”
“Three!” The two boys yelled in unison as they threw their newborns into the fire. There was brief crying from them for a moment, but as quick as the crying started, it soon turned to silence. Alvin and Simon held hands as their offspring purged in the fire. Their tissue becomes nothing but dust and their bones get coated with fire ash.
Simon softly said: “Let’s go home.”
The two chipmunks, luggage behind their backs, slowly dragged their way back to the Seville residence.
As they walked home, they promised that they would never discuss the last 10 months of pain, tummy aches, pregnancy and slu*ttiness ever again.
And they never did.
And, of course, they started f*cking like wild beasts again. Only this time, Simon remembered to use protection.
END CRAP FANFICTION
