Aaron was sick with the flu. The little boar boy laid on the couch, buried in a mountain of blankets. Painkillers and other medications coursed through his bloodstream. It was 1 o’clock in the afternoon, and his mom was at work. Even though he was home alone and missing school, the piglet didn’t have the energy to make mischief – he barely even had the energy to reach for the remote. Every time he moved, his head throbbed and the room started to spin. So he sat, propped up by pillows, eyes glazed over, watching a game show he didn’t recognize where teams of two competed to solve puzzles before a timer ran out. It wasn’t long before the white noise of studio applause and the soothing voice of the announcer lulled him to a feverish, uneasy sleep. In his dreams, the chime of the game buttons became the beeping of hospital machinery, and the studio audience became a crowd wandering the hallways. He could hear the tone of the announcers clearly, but it was difficult to make out what they were saying. The contestants were there too, but the couples on the show had been replaced by labouring women of varying species strapped into stirrups while their teammates rushed to extract the babies. There were three women in full view of the camera – on the far left was a pink porcine woman, in the middle was a chestnut mare with a wavy-styled mane, and on the right was a fox with fur that had been artificially dyed blonde. “Right now it looks like number three is in the lead, Mark, with an eight-centimetre dilation while numbers one and two are lagging behind at about five centimetres apiece.” The camera zoomed in on the fox, showing a massive crowning head wedged between the woman’s thighs. “But what’s this, Johnny? Number one is performing an episiotomy in hopes of ‘cutting’ ahead of the other teams! The camera abruptly switched angles, this time focusing on the pig-girl whose teammate was indeed trying to cut a line through her stretched labia. It was hard to see, but Aaron could see the blood sticking to the pink skin and clinging to the gloves of the teammate. “A bold strategy, Mark, but as you know, contestants can only use a certain number of tools, and cutting an episiotomy now rules out using forceps later on, and it looks like that’s exactly what number two plans to do here!” The camera shifted to the mare and her teammate, currently lubing up a curved metal paddle and carefully slipping it alongside the crowning head of the foal. “And what about number three, Johnny, how are they going to deal with the other teams trying to take the lead?” The camera shifted back to the fox team, with the partner trying to manually stretch his partner’s labia around the head, pushing the skin back until it threatened to tear around the head before the massive cranium of the fox kit popped out. There was a cheer from the crowd and a score appeared on the board. “That’s 100 points for team three, first to get the head out. As a reminder, the scores are 100 each for the head and shoulders, then 200 more for the body, and second place gets half. Lets see how the other teams are doing, Mark!” The pig team’s baby had such a huge head that even with the birth canal cut wider, it was still crowning. “Looks like team one may have jumped the gun on the episiotomy, Johnny, the baby’s head is still not out. But team two seems to be catching up nicely!” The camera cut to the foal, which was being pulled out by the forceps until the head dangled between the mare’s legs, and a score of 50 went to the board. “Oh, but what’s this, Mark? The umbilical cord is wrapped around the foal’s neck, and having already used the tool for the round, they can’t cut it! They’re going to have to try and loosen it or work around it, which could spell disaster!” The camera zoomed in impossibly close, showing fingers tugging and fumbling with a slippery, slimy umbilical cord tangled around the neck of the foal. “Right you are, Johnny, and it looks like team one is taking advantage and sprinting ahead!” The pig baby, its head sticky with blood and fluid, was being both pushed out by the woman and manhandled by the assistant. It heaved out with only a single push, and then a pair of hands grabbed it and pulled it up and down, side to side to wrench out the shoulders. “100 points to team one for the shoulders and – oh my goodness, Mark, they’ve done it! The baby is out and it’s a girl!” The camera zoomed out slightly to get a good angle of the porcine baby being wrenched out and placed on a prize table, which lit up around the edges while a synthesized trumpet fanfare played. The newborn was face-up and completely exposed, arms and legs tucked in, chubby labia peeking between her thighs. She cried in discomfort while the audience cheered. “That’s 300 points to team one for being the first to deliver both the shoulders and body, Johnny, even though they were the last to get the head out. How are the other two teams faring?” “Team three has run into a bit of a snag, Mark, it looks like their baby as a cord around the neck as well!” “Two nuchal cords in one game, Johnny, that’s nearly unheard of! Fortunately, they haven’t used their intervention yet so they could easily cut it if they chose to!” “Indeed they could, Mark, but that could put the baby at risk, and dead babies are worth zero points for the round – not something a contestant wants!” “Not at all, Johnny, not at all! But it looks like they’re taking the gamble anyways, hoping to secure second place!” “And a gamble it is, Mark, by speeding things along they could secure second place, or lose everything!” The camera focused on the umbilical cord being clamped and cut around the vulpine’s neck. Blood squirted out and then more hands started pulling, trying to get the baby out as fast as possible. It looked difficult, and a lot of tugging and rough pulling was required to free even one shoulder. The other shoulder was no easier, and the baby had to be twisted and groped a great deal before its limp body was dragged onto the prize table in a puddle of fluid. “It doesn’t look good, Johnny, I think team three may have blown second place here!” “Well Mark, you know that each baby is given a full five minutes to recover before the outcome is declared!” The fox newborn was rolled onto its back, revealed as another girl. It looked asleep and at peace, arms and legs splayed out like a ragdoll. “This is a tense race, Johnny, team three has 250 points but they could lose it all in the next few minutes, and team two has 50 points but could take second place if fate swings their way!” The camera zoomed in on the equines again, who had finally found a way to loop the cord clumsily over the baby’s head and gently pull one shoulder out before the other slid free on its own. “They say slow and steady wins the race, Mark, and in this case it could very well land them second place, even with a meager 50 points on the board!” The rest of the foal was born gently, sliding into the contestant's hands before it was gently placed on the prize table alongside the other two. The lively newborn equine kicked out and quickly exposed itself as a filly, to the amusement of the hosts. “Three baby girls, Johnny, I can’t believe it! What are the odds?” “I don’t know, Mark, I’m still glued to the prize table to see who’s walking away with second place!” The camera zoomed in on the prize table, focusing on the lifeless fox kit, until finally it twitched. It struggled to let out a wet, gurgling cry, and fluid could be seen trailing from its wet black nose. The studio erupted into cheers. “Well there you have it, Johnny, team one brings it home with 300 points, team three takes second with 250 after almost losing everything, and team two brings up the rear with 50 points!” “And lets not forget two nuchal cords and three baby girls in the same round! Truly this was one for the history books, Mark. Make sure you come back after these messages for our special bonus twin round . . .” Aaron bolted awake. He was still on the couch, buried in blankets. His head reeled from thoughts of foxes and fillies, and he could feel a wetness creeping in between his legs. Horrified that he wet himself, he pulled off as many blankets as possible only to reveal his throbbing, sticky erection. He looked up at the TV, eager to see more of this live birthing game show, only to see an older couple spinning an oversized slot machine. He must have dreamed the whole thing, he thought with a wistful sigh. He looked at the clock – he had been asleep for almost two hours. School was over, and if he was feeling better, he would have been walking home with his friend Tom, probably going over to his house to play. He shuffled the blankets to try and rub the wetness away, or at least get it away from his body, and snuggled in, hoping to get back to sleep and see the next round of whatever crazy game show he dreamed up. Even if he didn’t, it would make an amazing story to tell Tom. Maybe he could even convince him to put his sister Beth on one of those prize tables to be taken home next time they played together . . .