I Was The Only Omega In The Beast World-Chapter 98: CP: Post–Preganancy Chaos

Three Days Later:

Alex woke to the sensation of being surrounded by tiny, squirming bodies.

The six snakelings had claimed him as their preferred sleeping spot—coiled around his arms, draped across his chest, one particularly bold one (the iridescent third-born) had somehow managed to wind itself around his neck like a living scarf.

"You’re all going to suffocate me one day," Alex murmured, carefully extracting the neck-scarf baby and placing it with its siblings.

All six little heads immediately lifted, forked tongues flickering, tiny mouths opening in silent demands.

"I know, I know," Alex said. "You’re hungry. You’re always hungry." 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

[MORNING STATUS:

Day 3 post-delivery

Host recovery: 55% (good progress)

Snakeling health: All six thriving

Current challenge: Feeding schedule (every 3 hours)

Sleep deprivation level: SIGNIFICANT]

Leo appeared at the chamber entrance, carrying a woven basket that smelled distinctly of fresh fish.

"Breakfast delivery," he announced. "Mira sent the smallest ones she could find—minnow-sized. She says the babies’ jaws can handle these now."

"Thank goodness," Alex said, taking the basket. "They tried to swallow my finger yesterday. I think they’re getting frustrated with how long food preparation takes."

The moment Alex opened the basket, all six snakelings perked up—their blind heads turning toward the scent, tongues flickering frantically.

"Alright, alright," Alex said, pulling out the first tiny fish. "Let’s see if we can do this in an organized fashion this time."

He placed the fish in front of the largest snakeling—the first-born with the brilliant emerald scales.

The tiny serpent struck immediately—mouth opening wider than seemed physically possible, sharp little fangs (that had emerged just yesterday) sinking into the fish with surprising ferocity.

"Good," Alex encouraged. "Swallow carefully. Don’t choke."

The first-born’s eyes were still closed, wouldn’t open for another few days according to Mira, but it somehow knew exactly where its food was. The tiny jaws worked mechanically, swallowing the fish in pieces small enough to manage.

"One down, five to go," Alex muttered, reaching for another fish.

The second-born (deep forest green, slightly smaller) was next. This one was more cautious—sniffing the fish thoroughly before striking, as if checking for poison.

"You’re overthinking it," Alex told the baby. "It’s just a fish."

The snakeling ignored him, continuing its careful inspection before finally deciding the food was acceptable.

The third-born (iridescent, the adventurous one) didn’t wait for Alex to present the fish properly. The moment Alex pulled it from the basket, the little serpent lunged from Alex’s shoulder—overshooting, tumbling into his lap, but somehow managing to grab the fish on the way down.

"You’re going to be trouble," Alex said affectionately, making sure the baby didn’t choke on its prize.

The fourth-born (emerald with silver hood markings) was surprisingly polite—waiting patiently for Alex to position the fish directly in front of it before striking with precision. Clean, efficient, no fuss.

"At least one of you has manners," Alex observed.

The fifth-born (midnight black-green) was apparently the messy eater of the family. It struck too hard, tore the fish apart, and managed to get fish scales stuck to its own scales in the process.

"Really?" Alex said, gently brushing the debris off. "How did you even manage that?"

The sixth and smallest (chestnut brown) was last. This one was the shyest—reluctant to strike even when the fish was right in front of it, as if afraid it might do something wrong.

"It’s okay," Alex coaxed softly. "Take your time. There’s no rush."

Eventually, with gentle encouragement, the smallest one struck—awkward and uncertain, but successful.

All six babies fed, Alex surveyed the mess.

Fish scales everywhere. Water splashed across the platform. One particularly adventurous baby (the third-born, naturally) had somehow gotten itself tangled in the basket.

"How," Alex asked the universe, "do six creatures who can’t even see yet manage to create this much chaos?"

[PARENTING DIFFICULTY: EXPERT MODE]

[New skill acquired: "Multitasking While Sleep-Deprived"]

Naga slithered into the chamber, took one look at the disaster zone, and started laughing.

"They’re efficient chaos creater," he said admiringly. "I’m so proud."

"They’re YOUR chaos creater," Alex pointed out. "All six of them. One hundred percent your genes apparently."

"Of course they are," Naga said, completely unrepentant. He coiled beside Alex, gently gathering the scattered snakelings back into a manageable pile. "Look at them. Already showing personality. Already coordinating as a unit."

"Already eating me out of house and home," Alex added. "Do you know how many tiny fish six snakelings go through in a day?"

"Approximately forty-eight," Mira’s voice came from the entrance. The healer pulled herself onto the platform, her silver scales gleaming. "Which is actually lower than I expected for six."

She began her daily examination—checking each baby methodically, feeling for healthy muscle tone, checking their mouths for proper fang development, ensuring their scales weren’t showing any signs of dehydration.

"They’re all thriving," she announced. "Growing faster than normal, actually. The combination of three-mate energy support is working beautifully."

"That’s good," Alex said. "Because I don’t think I could handle them growing any faster. They already quadrupled their appetite in three days."

"Wait until their eyes open," Mira said cheerfully. "Then they’ll start trying to explore. You’ll need to serpent-proof the entire chamber."

"Serpent-proof?" Alex repeated weakly.

"Oh yes," Mira continued. "Once they can see, they’ll slither everywhere. Into pools, up walls, under furniture. Snakelings are notoriously curious. You’ll need barriers, supervision at all times—"

"We’ll manage," Naga interrupted, clearly delighted by the prospect of his children causing mayhem. "Snakelings are supposed to explore. It’s how they learn."

"Easy for you to say," Alex muttered. "You don’t have to chase down six tiny escape artists while recovering from labor."

"That’s what we’re here for," Leo said, entering with Zale right behind him. "Rotation shifts for baby-watching. Naga’s got first shift today, I’m on second, Zale’s on third."

"And I’m on permanent exhaustion duty," Alex said.

"You’re on recovery duty," Leo corrected, sitting beside him. "Which means resting while we handle the chaos."

"I can’t rest," Alex protested. "They need—"

"They need their mother to be healthy," Leo interrupted firmly. "Which means you eat, you sleep, you let us help. Understood?"

Alex wanted to argue.

But the six snakelings had already finished their breakfast and were now attempting to climb into the empty fish basket, apparently convinced it might contain more food.

"Fine," he conceded. "But if that third-born escapes again, I’m blaming you."

Four Hours Later:

Alex had underestimated the third-born’s escape artistry.

The iridescent snakeling had somehow managed to:

Slither out of the carefully constructed barrier Leo had built—

Navigate across twenty feet of open floor—

Climb into Mira’s medicine bag—

Get stuck inside a empty bottle of fish oil—

"How," Alex demanded, holding up the bottle with the squirming baby visible through the glass, "did you even fit in here?!"

The third-born hissed defensively, as if this was somehow everyone else’s fault.

Kai, who had been watching the whole incident, was trying very hard not to laugh.

"Snakelings are... creative," he managed.

"Creative," Alex repeated. "That’s one word for it."

Mira carefully extracted the oily baby from the bottle, cleaned it off with practiced efficiency, and deposited it back with its siblings.

"You," she told the third-born seriously, "are going to give your mother gray hair before you’re a month old."

The third-born responded by immediately trying to climb back into the medicine bag.

"Oh no you don’t," Alex said, scooping it up. "You’re staying where I can see you."

The other five snakelings, having sensed their sibling’s adventure, now seemed to think climbing into things was an excellent idea.

The first-born tried to climb into Alex’s shirt pocket.

The second-born investigated Naga’s scale-polish container.

The fourth-born discovered it could fit inside an empty shell.

The fifth-born attempted to eat a sea shell.

The sixth-born, the shy one, was the only baby behaving—coiled quietly in Alex’s lap, occasionally flicking its tongue but otherwise content.

"I like this one," Alex announced, stroking the smallest one’s scales. "This one is my favorite."

"You can’t have favorites," Leo said, trying to retrieve the first-born from Alex’s pocket.

"Watch me," Alex said. "This one doesn’t try to eat furniture or climb into medicine bottles or get stuck in shells."

"Give them time," Naga said cheerfully, rescuing the fifth-born from its shell-eating attempt. "Once it gets over its shy phase, it will eventually be like its siblings. "

"Don’t say that," Alex groaned. "Don’t put that energy into this little one."

The babies, oblivious to the conversation, had found a new game—seeing how many of them could coil around Naga’s arm at once. Currently the count was four, with the fifth one attempting to join.