I Became The Pope, Now What?

'I-I... am a—sperm?'

A moment later, after deeply observing the shapes of other snakes, he was sure that his conjecture was correct…

This was a race, a race of sperms to merge with the ovary! Jonathan could feel an innate need to reach the ova and fuse into an embryo. He willed it and tried to swim closer as quickly as possible. To be born, he needed to reach the goal the quickest! The competition was tough, and a few bigger snakes were already ahead of him.

'I will be the first. I will be reborn!' He exclaimed inwardly. Suddenly, he saw a blinding white light.

'Yes, I'm almost there!' He thought joyfully and quickened his pace.

Johnathan saw the light all around him. He did not know if he was at the front or not, but it didn't matter. The race was still ongoing, and the first one to attack the egg was the winner. However, after a while, he felt confused. 'Where is the egg?!'

"Nyah...Nmmh… Aaah! Nyaaa~"

Loud sounds of moans came, and Johnathan could actually hear them. Soon, he found himself stuck on something along with other snakes.

'What's happening?' Just as he thought this, he heard someone speaking in English.

"Argh... why do I feel regret after wanking? I need to stop watching furry stuff. That Ankha video was a rabbit hole I should have never entered. I gotta find a new hobby in this lockdown. Maybe smut on webnovel? But Gore and Bdsm seem interesting…"

'Huh…?' The realization hit Johnathan, 'NO! I'm just a wasted sna-sperm. Ankha? Lockdown? What happens to me now? Also, BDSM… young man, that's a worse choice… Ah-'

He felt his consciousness shift again. He had become yet another sperm.

...

Defeat, utter defeat. So many races, he won in none of them. Soon enough, he realized that this wasn't a race of speed; it was a race of luck. But unfortunately, he was just not lucky enough.

Until now, only once was he able to get lucky and meet the egg. Of course, he was not that furry-addict young man's sperm now. Nah, that degenerate couldn't have found a female…

Suddenly, Jonathan's consciousness shifted again after failing to be born. The woman had consumed possibly some sort of anti-pregnancy item. He just died and cursed his damned fate again.

He never thought this day would 'COME', but... 'I truly sympathize with all you white little snakes out there. Such cutthroat competition that even Asians would cower in fear. So many variables... Truly, the birth of a child is nothing less than a miracle!'

With this, he became depressed as he remembered his own unborn son. The only thing making it different now was that he felt what his son probably felt. Jonathan didn't know that it was because of his complete soul form that he could feel and see things. No other sperm there was like him.

'Will I forever be stuck in this cycle?' He wondered and sighed. Suddenly, he felt hungry.

However, what else was there to eat and consume other than other snakes? So he went after them, trying to assimilate with them. The process, to him, felt instinctual. As the other snakes didn't have a will of their own, he was like a titan in a village of humans, eating them up.

Whoosh!

When he had consumed more than half of them, another race started. 'Ah shit, here we go again!'

He lazily let himself be sucked around. Due to him always eating other snakes, he had turned into one big, chunky boy himself. So it was hard to go fast.

'I need to diet, it seems,' He thought, too accustomed to this new messed-up life. But being an ex-CIA Agent, he knew that when life gives you lemons, you squeeze them into your enemy's eyes and get information. Hence, improvise, adapt, and overcome.

POP!

'What was that sound? Wait... GOD, I finally fuc... Mated with an egg!' He looked around himself. He was in some enclosed sphere. Soon after that, he lost all his consciousness.

When he woke up again, he could feel his limbs, and there was no limit to his joy. 'Does this mean it's about time I head out? Fine, let's start kicking!'

Mustering all his strength, he started kicking, punching, and head-banging to make the woman who held him realize it was time to pop him out. He could hear some muffled voices from outside, but didn't understand the language.

Eventually, he saw the light at the end of the cave. Ah, his misery would soon be over after so many years of being a fat snake.

'WAIT! What if I am a lass? No, no... this can't be…'

He knew some religions had the concept of the soul being genderless. So does this mean that a soul can randomly become a girl and a boy?

He could not feel his small micro pipe for now; there was not an ounce of horny in those cheese balls to wake up the dragon. Only time could tell. Soon, he felt like being pushed out, and the woman was doing all she could as the surrounding walls contracted.

However, some time passed, and Johnathan still found himself in the womb. The woman had gone tired. Something must have happened, he thought. Then the next thing he knew, he was being pulled out forcefully, and at that moment, he realized. 'Ah, I can't breathe. NO!'

He was taken out by force, and the umbilical cord was tied around his neck. It choked him, stopping blood from flowing into the brain. That's how, once again, his attempt failed. The moment he came out, the first and last thing he saw was a woman wearing some sort of medieval midwife clothing. He was panicking, as his face had turned blue.

Then life slowly left his tiny body, for the 2nd time since his first death. He wondered if this was his fate or was this god's hate.

...

An unknown time later, Johnathan was once again a snake. Who knows whose balls he was in this time? Out of all these times, only twice he could mate with the egg, once killed by a pill and then killed by pregnancy complications.

He continued to eat other snakes and let go of all hope of being born again. But, it seems people say it right; thrice is a charm.

Without even trying, he found himself in a womb again. He could hear voices from outside. He didn't understand it, but the woman sounded like she was singing lullabies.

A month passed, and he never kicked or punched the woman. Soon enough, the day came. It would either be his entry to a new life or another demise.

He felt like a slime when the walls contracted, being pushed out. Slowly, air brushed past his nearly bald head, giving him hope that this may be it. Then his head fully popped out, followed by the rest of the body.

Before he knew it, his bloody frame was for all to see. He was overcome with joy and excitement. Nobody had to pat his back; he screamed on his own, "Yes, Yes... I'M OUT!"

The old midwife was about to slap his buttocks to make him cry, but got surprised. The child made weird sounds and seemed cheerful, his voice sounding like nonsensical gibberish cries. She was stunned and quickly wrapped him in a towel. After cleaning him, she handed the big baby boy to the tired woman on the bed.

"Congratulations, Xavia, you have a son. A cheerful and strong one. Have you thought of a name yet?"

Johnathan stopped rejoicing and tried to open his eyes wider to see the woman who held him. Unlike other children, he could clearly see, and his vision wasn't split in two. Jonathan didn't know why and didn't care to curse this blessing.

The woman who held him simply mesmerized him. Saying she was pretty was an understatement. The charm of maturity was visible on her face. She had large charming blue eyes. Her pale reddened face was still sweaty, and strands of dark-red hair fell on her face.

A big smile was plastered on her face, full of uncountable emotions about to spill out. She hugged him and cried in silence. Then, after a while, she calmed herself and pecked on his forehead. "I have a name... it will be Sylvester, Sylvester Maximilian."

"What a wonderful name, Xavia. Ah!… I must go now. Two more women are to give birth in the inner village! Someone will be here to help you after I leave. I have left all the potions and herbs for your healthy recovery; take them on time." The old midwife caressed Xavia's head and left the small wooden house.

All alone, Xavia stared at her baby, who was also staring at her. She kissed his forehead again. "Golden iris? Strange, even your father didn't have this, but you have the same hair and handsome face. My beautiful son."

For Johnathan, nothing she was saying made sense. He didn't understand the language, and all he could do was try to read her expressions. However, he smelled a strangely warm and sweet odour.

His stomach made a growling sound. 'Ah, I'm hungry. But... I don't want to cry.' He tried to speak, "Young lady, where is my food?"

Xavia was amused by the gibberish sounds her son made. But her instincts helped. "I need to feed you."

She lifted her blouse and took out one breast. He felt strange having to go through this. Then the nipple popped into his mouth, and his hunger took over. He drank his mother's milk silently. Being a newborn, his energy was extremely limited, so his eyelids drooped as he sucked.

Johnathan still tried to open his eyes. He could feel her emotions to protect him. It was touching. He let out a soft breath, calming himself down. 'I do not know your name, young lady. Biologically, you're my mother. Mentally, I am an older man. I may not have the innocence that you expected from your child, but I thank you for your hard work. Every drop you feed will be a debt incurred on me, and I will try to pay it back when the time comes.'

He then started yawning. Not long after, the woman also fell asleep as she tucked her little son in her arms. It was cold outside, but they felt warm together.

…

It had been three days since he was born in this strange world. His eyes were wide open, and from the looks of the place he lived in, he could see that the family was poor. However, he had only seen his mother until now. Where was the father?

Jonathan, now Sylvester, looked around. The place only had a bed, a fireplace, and a small sitting area. The clothes, utensils, and furniture told him he was in a less technologically developed world.

The fireplace was constantly burning, making the small hut-like home warm. But, for the past two days, he only saw his mother at the times when she fed him and at night, he guessed it was due to work.

The language was utterly unknown to him, which cleared that this was not Earth. He was so sure because, as a CIA operative, it was essential to know at least what different languages sounded like in his previous life.

He was trying to understand by focusing on whatever his mother said. To understand verbs, nouns and basic grammar. For now, he only knew his name as she called him Max.

The door creaked open, and his mother walked in, looking tired as always. She sighed, but she cheered up when her eyes rested on her son. Then, rushing up to him, she grabbed him in her arms and hugged him tightly. "My Max, you are my only source of warmth in this life!"

Sylvester felt slightly mushy in his tiny body. This woman loved him just for existing, no other strings attached. She reminded him of Diana, of course, differently. Raising his soft plum arms, he patted her face.

"M-mm---" he tried to speak, but his voice box was not fully developed yet. But the speed at which it was growing was astounding.

'Dammit, I can do it.'

He put all his efforts into calling her, "Mmmm... mam... MA-M-A!"

It was as if the sky had fallen. He felt the woman's heartbeat fasten. Then, finally, she released him from the hug and looked at his face, her eyes tearing up, "Did... did... you just call me mama?"

He didn't know what she said, but his hypothesis was correct. 'As always, no matter what language and, in this case, the world. Mama always means mother.'

She hugged him once again, much tighter this time. Sylvester silently rested his head on her chest and fell asleep. He knew he was not like a normal baby at all, but however strong he may be, saying words at such an early age was tiring.

[A/N: I will transition to calling him Sylvester, instead of Johnathan.]