havocmangawip (havocmangawip) wrote in fm_alchemist,

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First post here, and I come bearing fiction.

Title:  Singing Telegram
Author:  HavocMangaWIP
Fandom:  Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing:  Free For All
Rating:  NC-17
Word Count: Just over 1,600
Spoilers: Manga Chapter 38 (gives nothing huge away, you've probably already been spoiled about it if you KNOW the manga exists in Japanese)
Warnings: Language, Inebriation, Cross-dressing, Bestiality, Drug References, Shota, Tachi-cest, Incest, Yaoi, BDSM, medical fetish, cruelty to animals, sparklies, balloon animals, not work safe, and not brain safe.
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is the rightful property of Hiromu Arakawa. This is a fan work written purely for  entertainment. 

Click the cut for more, a REAL cut!  Truly! 

To sum up, my stay in the hospital may as well have been the same day, every day. Days flowed into weeks and unless someone told me I wouldn’t know what day it was. There were some exceptions of course, but most memorable experiences at the Central Military Hospital I’d rather forget.

It was decided that my morale was low and something needed to be done. I was at a loss as to what would boost my spirits but just about everything had been tried. Between Colonel Mustang’s many female admirers and our mutual friends gifts of flowers, candy, cards and balloons were delivered daily. By my second week in the hospital the room was beginning to look like the hospital gift shop. I was touched that anyone cared enough to send anything, but it didn’t do much to soften the blow of the news I had received or dull the pain of my wounds any.

I’d grown so accustomed to allowing my mind to drift as nurses tended to me that when I felt the covers shift I did nothing. She was probably just in to help me shift position. The nurse then did something completely unexpected. One moment I was getting my sheets straightened and my pillows fluffed and the next the nurse was straddling me. I looked up and to my shock and horror it was Breda.

“Oh my, um, I’m flattered really man, I am but you’re not my type. Maybe in the trenches a couple of times but really not since then,” I stammered.

Breda slurred, “Singing telegram! I heard that you were feeling blue… aw fuck, I forgot the rest.”

I laughed out loud for the first time in weeks and said, “You are INEBRIATED man, seriously you reek. How much rum did it take for you to cook up this idea, in fact how did you even find the room much less figure out how to get into that dress?”

“Singing telegram for shexy Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc,” Breda said insistently.

As I was trying to figure out how I was going to let Breda down gently Falman came into the room, in a lab coat. I looked him up and down and realized that if I was lucky, he’d be wearing a nurse’s uniform under the lab coat.

"I have a Special Delivery for Second Lieutenant Havoc,” Falman said, trying his best not to stagger as he crossed the room to my bed.

I averted my eyes as he moved to unbutton the lab coat and THANKFULLY he was wearing a uniform under it, but it didn’t hide his knobby knees. He looked a bit put out when he noticed that I already had a special delivery and said, “Breda, I thought that you were getting the alco-… the booze and that I was getting the singing telegram.”

Breda looked utterly surprised to see Falman, and equally surprised that he was also in a nurse’s uniform.

“No, no, no… it was my job to get the singing telegram, buh it wush impossible this late at night,” he corrected him loudly.

So that was why I had a soused Breda in my lap. I heaved a sigh of relief and said, “Breda, could you get off of me? It’s getting hard to breathe.”

He attempted to get up and failed miserably. Luckily Falman came to his aid and helped him to the other side of the room.

As I caught my breath and regained my composure Fuery burst into the room with Black Hayate and the most remarkable thing about the whole situation was that Hayate was also wearing a little white uniform. They had certainly thought this out, and it would have been a well-executed plan if they hadn’t formulated said plan while gathering the courage to carry it out.

Fuery did a little bump and grind crossing the distance between the door and my bed, blushing furiously all the while and I thought that if his face got any redder his head might explode. Once by my side he clasped my hand and I thought to myself, “No, no, no… do not laugh, do not laugh, you’ll hurt his feelings!”

“Wow, thank you for that um, morale booster,” I said babbling like an idiot. “Though I think Colonel Mustang needs some now.”

He gave me a lopsided grin, hiccoughed and teetered in ill-fitting pumps to the other side of the room leaving Black Hayate with me.

I looked at the dog and said, “I promise you I won’t stir fry you tonight, you’ve been through too much tonight. What a good boy you are putting up with them.”

Just as I thought it couldn’t get anymore surreal the door swung open with such force it was almost torn from its hinges and I heard the booming voice of Major Alex Louis Armstrong before I saw him.

I covered my eyes and wished I could run and hide but it just wasn’t an option. I hoped he would notice the sideshow that was going on in the room before he noticed me. It was just my luck that today was apparently “Havoc Appreciation Day” and I was the last notified.

“Second Lieutenant Havoc I am here to raise your spirits!” he said. “Look upon my smiling countenance and the Armstrong Family art of making balloon animals.”

I removed my hands from my eyes, gaped and watched in horror as the Major reached up his skirt.

“Honestly, look, Major Armstrong I feel great, truly the best I‘ve felt in a long time,” I protested.

“Nonsense, allow me astound you!” he replied.

“Oh, believe me, I’m astonished.”

The “dog” he made did not resemble a dog, however it was amusing as hell, obscene looking too. I had to get my mind out of the gutter and though their plan as executed was failing miserably, I was in considerably better spirits.

As Armstrong began flexing his muscles and my mind reeled in horror at the thought of WHAT would be revealed when the inevitable happened, I was spared at the last moment when Fullmetal burst in.

“Colonel Bastard, are you HAPPY? I am here, JUST as you asked in a fucking dress. Where is he?” a very agitated Fullmetal in a very short nurse’s uniform screamed.

Behind him on tiptoe was Alphonse, as if he could hide. Thankfully he was not in a uniform, “just” the cap. He must have noted the look of horror on my face and came over to my side of the room. He opened his chest plate and said, “Here, I thought a kitty might make you happy.”

As he got the last bit out Black Hayate caught sight of the kitten and all hell broke loose. Frenzied motion, the smell of sweat, swearing and general mayhem ensued.

I shouted, “This is just unnatural, all of you are sick. Hayate, a CAT? I am ashamed. Bad dog!”


Everyone and everything in the room froze and fell silent.

When I was sure it was safe to look First Lieutenant Hawkeye was standing in the middle of the room dressed in a frilly pink thing, complete with pasties and tassels, a bullwhip in her hand.

“ENOUGH! Everyone go home, Second Lieutenant Havoc needs his rest and so does Colonel Mustang,” she said sternly.

She ushered everyone out of the room and turned out the lights.


The next morning I woke up and First Lieutenant Hawkeye was there and I had a hard time looking at her with a straight face. I stared at the breakfast tray on my side table and I flashed back to a particularly nasty visual of Armstrong and covered my mouth.

“Second Lieutenant Havoc, is everything fine?” she asked.

“Fine? How can it be fine? You were, well… “ I said.

“What?” she said sounding perplexed.

“Where did you learn how to crack a bullwhip like that, and WHEN did you change into that pink frilly thing?” I finally sputtered.

She pursed her lips and shook her head, finally chuckling.

“I thought you were hallucinating last night,” she said.

“What? No, it was all too real. What I saw and heard and what they DID I could NOT imagine,” I said in disgust. “It was sick!”

“The doctors checked you for fever and infection and ruled both of those out as the cause of your ‘outbursts’ last night,” she said calmly. “They finally figured out that you were having an adverse reaction to your new pain medication.”

“But it was all so real…” I said trailing off.

“When you started prattling on about Black Hayate in a nurse’s uniform and petting the pillow you had resting in your lap we thought you’d lost it. You’re lucky you aren’t in the psychiatric ward right now. Oh, and that pink outfit you ‘imagined me in’, you’re lucky I knew you weren’t in your right mind,” she said grinning.

“So I was the comic relief?” I asked sheepishly.

“Yes, you were. Once we stopped worrying about your sanity and health it was quite entertaining,” she replied.

“Is Colonel Mustang still asleep?” I asked.

She nodded, came closer and I decided that I’d already survived a fate worse than death so I decided to risk it, “Hawkeye…”

“Yes Havoc?” she said leaning in even closer.

“I may have been hallucinating, but you had fabulous tits in that little pink number…”

She smiled, patted me on the cheek and said, “I guess the medication must still be doing a number on you, I’ll let it slide, this time.”


Author's Note:


Crossposted to my Journal


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