The First by Twarck Mayne
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Taking a gulp of air, he started to cry his lungs out. Exactly what they wanted him to do, but it startled him. He hesitated, swallowed, and started to cough. Suddenly that was the only thing he could do. Cough. No more incoming air. He started to panic. His body started to spasm and sweat. Eyes turning red, he felt a hard object being pressed into his mouth. He passed out.

A dream of a red pillow, warm and soft, being pressed against his face. The pressure increased as he felt his chin being pushed upward by the pillow. The crown of his head felt strange, cold and wet. Through his eyelids he discovered a light. Suddenly, a sharp, cold sting awakened him. His throat now cleared, he instinctively inhaled, then let out an ear shattering wail.

"He made it. Yes, it's a boy, he made it. He looks a bit bluish though. We don't have proper incubator space available, but next to this little girl he'll be fine. Just fine. Let's clean up."

He hadn't agreed upon anything, but this was his fate. Being born was so far the worst experience of his life.