Chapter Text
Darkness slightly lighter than the black-red of his closed eyelids greeted Lucas when he finally managed to pry them open. The pounding in his head made him inhale sharply as his senses slowly became his own again. There was a soft rumble beneath him and a coldness seeping through his jeans from the metal bench on which he was sitting. He was moving.
His mouth felt ridiculously dry, and as he opened his mouth, wetting his lips, trying to swallow and breathe deep, the stench of foreign alpha insulted his senses.
Lucas flinched, the smell offensive to his stomach, making him shake, and as he tried to raise his hands to cover his mouth, he realised with a sharp pain that he couldn’t move. The way his hands were cuffed behind him made his shoulders strain and ache, and the painful burn in his wrists confirmed that the shackles were made of silver.
Lucas blinked, focusing his eyes in the darkness, until he could make out the shape of two other forms slumped over a bench opposite him. The stench of unknown alpha was seeping from them, and Lucas thanked the gods they were passed out, and it was only a base scent that was assaulting his senses. If they'd been awake, and probably as anxious as Lucas felt, the confined space would have been swamped with their stifling smell.
Lucas had only encountered one other alpha since he'd hit puberty, and they had constantly butted heads. Both boys needed to assert their dominance and prove themselves; it was a downside of their kind. To Lucas, it had been almost fun to keep torturing the other alpha. However, these two alphas sitting opposite him made him feel uneasy.
Both wolves had their ankles shackled together with a short chain, and Lucas experimentally shifted his feet, realising he too was chained like that.
What had happened to him?
Lucas tried to keep his shifting to a minimum, so as not to rouse the two foes he shared this space with. It was a rather large space, seemingly made to transport dozens at a time, but there were only the three alphas in the back. That was more than enough for Lucas. He searched out his bounds, testing how much restraint and give he had, but there wasn’t much for him to work with. His heart fluttered with fear at the feel of something tight and burning around his neck. He could just about make out the shape of something around the necks of the two unconscious alphas opposite him too. Had he been collared?
He had no memory of being led into this place and chained, the last thing he had remembered was the bright, clinical holding room, and the lights on the test kit blinking red and green, red and green, red and green, before slowly settling onto a bright, positive green.
The vehicle came to a halt with a hiss of breaks, Lucas rocked sideways, but the movement wasn't enough to wake the other alphas. Weak, Lucas thought. He could probably take them.
The back doors were flung open, sunlight suddenly illuminating them, making Lucas’s eyes sting. He kept his eyes open though, determined to see what kind of person thought they could take him prisoner.
Lucas recognised the man from the checkpoint. Dark hair kept short, small watery eyes, and a soft jaw. A soldier, in a dark blue uniform, an insignia on his shoulder that Lucas vaguely recognised as some sort of military rank. Lucas had thankfully been too young to be drafted at the last call, and he had very little interest in the military, so he had no idea what the rank meant.
There was something unnatural about the way the soldiers eyes glinted with a feral satisfaction, as if he revelled in the power he held over them. Lucas could see four other figures standing at the open doors as the soldier climbed into the back of the truck. He reeked of beta, a worthless wolf, only good as cannon fodder.
“Keep still, pup,” he growled. He had clearly spent a long time affecting an Alpha growl, but it wasn't very good.
Lucas focused on keeping his demeanour calm as the soldier leant down before him to unlock his ankle chains from the metal bench. His disgust and anger was bubbling just under the surface, but he bit his tongue, waiting and watching. This worthless mutt had stopped him and pulled him aside for routine checks. Lucas cursed his mother for asking him to go and pick up tomatoes that afternoon, he wouldn't be here if he hadn't got caught by that checkpoint. Were his parents worried? Had they noticed he was missing yet?
Lucas was forced to his feet, his ankles still chained together, so he could only take small, careful steps. But at least he was walking under his own steam. Unlike the other two alphas, who were being manhandled and dragged from the vehicle. Pathetic.
The soldier was shorter than Lucas, not that that was rare, most betas were weak and puny compared to an Alpha, even a young one like Lucas, but it made it almost ridiculous how this mutt kept attempting to stare Lucas down. Lucas growled, baring his fangs he'd purposefully revealed to intimidate the smaller man, when the soldier reached for his neck.
The beta had obviously had some training to resist an alpha's persuasion, but Lucas still noticed the flinch in his body and the sour smell of fear that radiated from him. But with his hands cuffed behind his back and his ankles chained to each other, even the vicious thrashing of his body was not enough to move him out of the soldiers reach. The soldier successfully grabbed the collar around Lucas’s neck and pulled him down, the silver of the cuff burning into the sensitive flesh of his neck, and clipped a fucking leash on him.
“Good pup,” the soldier praised in a mocking tone.
Lucas deepened his growl, making his displeasure clearly known with a controlled flex of pheromones, designed to make weaker wolves cower. The soldier's eyes widened as his nostrils did, but he didn't react further, instead choosing to tug on the leash. Something was very wrong. The beta should have reacted strongly to that.
Lucas didn't have a chance to follow that train of thought, as the chain pulled him forwards by the neck. He tried to stand his ground, but with his hands tied behind his back all that happened was his torso pitched forward and he had to take a step to avoid falling flat on his face. The soldier snorted with amusement as Lucas was forced to shuffle forwards.
“Move,” he grunted, pulling on the leash again, and Lucas felt a fresh wave of anger surge through him with the spike of pain at his neck. He knew he was in a precarious situation. He had been thrust into a world where his very nature and instincts were being toyed with by someone who should know better than to provoke a wolf.
There was a drop from the back of the vehicle, the soldier jumped down with practiced ease, the leash still in his hand, and momentum dragged Lucas forward. Without his hands to balance him, Lucas pitched forward into empty space. The ground came up to meet him with speed, and his nose blossomed with pain and blood.
The harsh impact jolted through Lucas’s body, reverberating from his nose to the back of his skull. He tasted copper; the realisation sent a flare of rage coursing through him. He got his knees beneath him, muscles straining against the chains binding his ankles, but before he could right himself, the soldier yanked on the chain, forcing Lucas up by his neck.
“Up!” the soldier ordered, voice dripping with disdain. There was a cruel edge to his tone that made Lucas’s skin crawl. The collar pulled tight, choking a whimper from his throat. On instinct, Lucas glared up at the soldier, but the defiance fell flat when he saw the other soldiers standing at attention, their eyes keen on him, waiting for his next move as if he was some sort of circus attraction.
Sweat dripped down Lucas’s forehead and into his eyes, but he blinked it away, forcing himself to hold their gazes. The soldier tugged on the leash, yanking Lucas upright in a swift motion. The silver collar bit into his skin again, a sting that sent his instincts screaming. Still, he managed to get his feet beneath him and stand, he complied or he choked, there was no option, no matter how furious he felt inside.
“Good pup,” the soldier sneered, clearly enjoying the power trip. Lucas took a deep breath through his mouth, his nose stinging with pain still, and focused on the compound around him. Chain link fences towered around him, topped with barbed wire and spotlights.
The leash tightened again, pulling Lucas forward. It was a humiliating walk, his feet shuffling awkwardly as the short chain restricted his movements. He could feel the eyes of the people he passed boring into him, some stared with little regard for him, some in shock, amazement, some with looks like he was a new toy they just couldn't wait to play with. The compound was busy, soldiers stood guard at every exit in the fence and every entry into a building, some escorted groups of people across the yard, their guns prominent in their hands.
He experienced a swell of unsettling emotions; anger, fear, and a burning desire to break free. Apart from the two unconscious alphas, who were being carried between multiple soldiers, Lucas appeared to be the only other prisoner there. The other wolves he passed almost appeared business-like in their dress and manner, and the way they stared at him, as if he was a rarity, something valuable that they could use.
They reached a large, barrack-like structure, and the soldiers guarding the doors stood to attention, saluting the soldier who had a firm grip on Lucas’s leash. With harsh, forceful jerks, Lucas was manhandled by the door guards, until a handheld reader was placed against his bicep, it chirped its approval.
“Proceed,” the guard announced.
The soldier who had his leash grabbed at the handheld device and turned it until he could read the screen.
“Lucas Abernethy,” he drawled, as if the idea Lucas had a name was amusing. “Twenty-years-old, well you are a pup, aren't you? You never served,” he tutted with disappointment. “Don't worry, you will have plenty of time to serve now.” His eyes sparkled with malicious glee as he yanked on the chain once more, and Lucas was dragged into the building.
Lucas caught a glimpse of grim, sterile walls, fluorescent lights flickering overhead, as he was dragged forwards. The inside reeked of antiseptic and something organic and rotten.
The soldier led him through a series of long corridors lined with unmarked doors. The sounds of their booted footsteps echoed unnaturally in the claustrophobic space, amplifying the heaviness in Lucas’s chest. The whole place smelled wrong, like a place where souls came to wither away, and he couldn't help the feeling that every inch of this building was designed to break him.
After what felt like an eternity of tight turns and oppressive silence, they arrived at a door marked with a plain black 4. Without a word, the soldier pushed it open, the sound punctuating the tension in the air. Lucas braced himself as he was dragged inside, fully aware that despair was his only companion at that moment.
The room was stark and sterile, filled with nothing but a single steel table in the center and several harsh lights overhead that hummed ominously. He could see shackles anchored to the table, extending ominously from each corner, and he shuddered at the implications.
Lucas had barely noticed that the room was occupied before he registered the sharp, invasive scent–a twinge of bleach mixed with something overly sweet and sickly that set off alarm bells in his mind.
One of the men, a tall grey haired figure in a lab coat, approached him with a clinical detachment that sent a tremor of anticipation down his spine. “Lucas Abernathy,” he began, his voice eerily calm. “You're well aware of your situation, I presume?”
Lucas didn't answer. Instead, he lifted his chin defiantly, summoning every ounce of strength he had left not to cower before this man.
“Good,” the man continued, a smile creeping over his lips that felt too wide, too predatory. “I believe we can make some progress today.”
With a flick of his wrist, he gestured to the soldiers, and before Lucas could react, they surged forward. The cold metal of the table loomed before him, and he felt his adrenaline spike.
At that moment, the weight of desperation bore down on him as he fought with everything in him. A soldier got his arms around Lucas from behind, and Lucas pushed off the floor with all his strength, sending the man tipping backwards enough that Lucas could launch both his chained feet up and into the stomach of the soldier who approached him from the front. But it was not enough to shift the tide; they were trained, they were ready for him.
As they managed to overpower him, forcing him onto the table with a swift efficiency, Lucas’s mind raced. He had to think fast; his very survival depended on it. For a moment, they removed the cuffs around his wrists, and Lucas managed to get his hand around someone's neck, his claws digging deep into their flesh, before his hand was wrenched away with a spray of blood and then strapped down to the table above his head.
Lucas tried to wrench himself upwards, thrashing from side to side, but no matter how hard he fought, the six guards were stronger. Finally, his wrists and ankles were strapped to the corners of the table, the collar clipped to the metal beneath him, and a thick metal bar bolted across his chest. Everything was silver.
Lucas grit his teeth against the pain, his breath coming in sharp jagged pants, as the silver burnt into any of the exposed flesh it touched. Lucas searched deep for that velvet heat in his chest, looking for that thread to coax his wolf to the surface, but there was only a hollow, heavy darkness there. What had they done? Why couldn't he shift?
“Captain,” the man in the lab coat nodded to the soldier who had brought him here, something silent passing between them, and then suddenly pain flared in Lucas’s side as electricity pulsed through him. His body jerked involuntarily against the restraints holding him down, but he forced himself to stay silent, refusing to acknowledge the agony.
Lucas finally turned to see a thin, metallic rod pressed against his flesh, the Captain smirking down at him.
“For every incursion you will be punished, do you understand?”
Lucas only stared at the lights above him, refusing to acknowledge the question. If he surrendered to this, to the torment and humiliation, he allowed them to win.
“Did you use the Clarkson device for the readings?”
“It was a positive, Sir.”
“Those cheap knockoffs; get me another sample.”
They spoke over him like he wasn't a conscious being. Lucas bristled as hands touched him, but his restraints kept him firmly held to the table, but he still had his voice.
“Let me go.” He pushed his voice into the deep timbre that rumbled through his chest, mixed with the surge of pheromones, attempting to make the beta wolves compliant and submissive.
“Amusing,” one of the lab coats said, sounding anything but.
“Subject Four, you will behave.”
There was a pinch at his neck, the sting of a needle, Lucas thrashed, teeth bared and sharp, and sunk his teeth into the arm that had come too close. Blood swelled into his mouth, the sweet coppery taste making him groan with delight, as somebody screamed in pain above him. The pleasure of biting quickly ceased when the pain of electricity flared in his side once more. He opened his jaw wide with a growl of pain mixed with fury and his prey escaped.
“For gods sake, why is he not gagged?”
That was quickly rectified. The ball was rubber, heavy against his lips and tongue, forcing his mouth to stretch to proportions it had never done before. With his mouth forced open, the only sounds he could make now were muffled grunts.
“Interesting,” the man said. “Those are very high levels, has there been any outside interference?”
“You would assume that the adrenaline from his handling would cause a spike,” another man replied. They were talking somewhere on the other side of the room, above Lucas's head, and he couldn't turn in his restraints to see them.
“Ah, yes,” the first man replied. “Alpha's do have an interesting correlation between their base instincts. Fighting is just foreplay for fucking to them,” he hummed with amusement. “The initial blood work looks good, but can you get this sample to the lab for proper analysis?”
“Yes, Doctor,” an eager voice replied.
“And what about the other sample?” The man referred to as doctor enquired.
“We never got that far, Doctor,” the Captain replied.
“Excuse me?” the Doctor spluttered. “You're telling me you brought a subject here without a viable sample?”
“Relax.” The Captain leaned back into Lucas’s field of view, a smirk on his thin lips, as he cupped Lucas’s cheek. “His blood work speaks for itself.”
Lucas tried to squirm away, the urge to bite coursing through him, but his teeth only descended into the rubber ball gag, a painful and confusing experience as his fangs caught and he couldn't open his jaw wide enough to free himself. The captain guffawed with laughter, and squeezed Lucas’s cheek harder, as Lucas thrashed, panicking. The stretch of the gag meant Lucas couldn't swallow properly, and his thrashing had made an excess of saliva begin to seep around the ball.
“We need swabs from his glands,” the Doctor instructed.
Gloved hands were on his wrists instantly, rough fingers pressing down, stimulating, and then rough material pressing down to collect the secretions. Lucas could see a young man in a lab coat to his left, hands trembling as he tried to approach.
“Oh for gods sake, Jenkins, he can't bite now.”
The young boy was shaking as he pressed his hand against Lucas’s neck, the silver collar was mostly in the way, but shaky gloved fingers wormed their way beneath to the nape of his neck, tentatively searching, until he found that spot that made Lucas shiver, his spine arching against the metal table.
“The subject seems very responsive,” the Doctor noted.
“I thought alphas didn't react to their throat glands being stimulated?”
“A common misconception,” the Doctor corrected. “Whereas omegas are very sensitive to the manipulation of this gland, and it can be sufficiently used to subdue them, alphas have a similar sensitivity, but alphas overall are better at controlling their reactions. Although Subject Four does seem to be easily stimulated.”
Lucas couldn't control the drool that leaked from between the gag, his lips and jaw trembled from the stretch. It felt obscene. Jenkins fingers kept pressing against the nape of his neck, manipulating his skin but also digging into the burns from the silver collar, a strange mixture of pain and pleasure flared like heat in Lucas’s chest. How he wished he could bite the boy.
The stimulation from Jenkins fingers were also causing an involuntary surge of pheromones, the kind that danced that line of sweet fear and vicious arousal.
There was a high pitched squeak from somewhere outside of Lucas’s view, and then a very quickly mumbled, breathy apology.
“Addams, control yourself or you will have to leave,” the Doctor admonished.
It flared in Lucas’s mind then, he didn't need his voice to subdue this group of betas, he could do it from scenting alone. He concentrated his whole being on Jenkins fingers, as they worked on collecting the secretions from his neck, and conjured up the filthiest memories he could. Hannah Monroe, the slutty little beta who had wrapped her lips around his cock head and suckled with her plump, juicy lips, while Lucas had jerked his shaft into her warm and inviting mouth. Lucas felt the stirrings of heat in his limp cock as he dwelled on how her eyes had watered and she'd gagged as he thrust his meat further to touch the back of her throat.
Lucas knew that betas weren't particularly sexual if given the choice, their defunct biology didn't put much weight in carnal desires when they were mostly incapable of passing on their genes, but even betas found it hard to resist an alpha.
There was a heaviness to the air now, a stifling, palpable smell he could taste on the back of his tongue. It made his mouth water further and more saliva dribbled past his parted lips. Of the few faces Lucas could see, Jenkins and the Captain and a few younger wolves in lab coats, it was obvious that an effect was sweeping over some of them, from the way their lips parted, their breaths turning shallow, eyes going wide, glassy. Lucas concentrated on pushing his remembered desire out into the room, coaxing more scent into the air.
“Enough, Jenkins.”
The young boy pulled back abruptly from Lucas’s skin, but he'd got the sample he needed.
“If any of you can't handle this, I suggest you leave immediately.” The Doctor's tone was vicious, daring anybody to be stupid enough to leave. Nobody moved. “Captain,” he prompted. And suddenly the world bloomed with violent pain once more, his body jerked as electricity crackled through his veins as the captain shoved the baton into his side.
Lucas was glad for the gag, so nobody could hear him scream in pain.
“Subject Four, control yourself, or we will have to do this the hard way.”
Lucas pulled at his wrist restraints, pushed his chest up into the metal bar, feet twisting against the chains at his ankles, neck straining against the collar. Every piece of him fought to free himself.
“Do it.” The doctor instructed. The pinch of pain was at his neck again, but this time something cool was being injected into him, and Lucas could only groan with his desire to bite. “Captain Reynolds, I will be severely disappointed if this subject turns out to be a failure. His behaviour is appalling.”
“His behaviour is exactly what you're looking for,” the Captain countered. “If he isn't the most perfect specimen I've ever brought you, I'll sign up for the test myself.”
The pair shared a knowing look. Lucas lay and watched them talk, their voices seemed far away, their faces beginning to blur and distort. There was a strange warmth pushing at his mind. His limbs felt strangely heavy, as if he'd never been able to move them before, yet they ached with a tingle as if they knew what it was like to float.
“What dosage did you give him?” The doctor asked.
“20mg,” another lab coat answered, a tremor in their voice as if they anticipated a strong reaction.
“I hope for you sake, Collins, that he isn't too numb to respond to stimulation,” the doctor tutted. “The machine, if you would, gentlemen.”
Lucas's head swayed from side to side, eyes half lidded, as whatever they gave him worked its way through his veins. He was sure they would want to sedate him, but he found himself unable to stop shifting and fidgeting, his toes curled, his shoulders rolled backwards, he tensed the muscles of his behind and shifted his hips upwards, and felt a delicious friction as his cock slid against the material of his boxes. His breath caught in the back of his throat and then shuddered past the ball gag as he tipped his head back as far as the collar would allow.
“This is… unusual,” the Doctor noted.
There wasn't enough brain power left for Lucas to worry that maybe he was having an allergic reaction, maybe he was dying, who cared, the cool metal beneath his wrists felt wonderful.
Lucas conscious fluttered between the lab coats, and their quiet mutterings, and the guards who held their batons trained on him still, and the slow feeling of warmth spreading deep in his belly.
It all came to a shuddering halt though when gloved hands began to unbutton his jeans.
Lucas's protests were just muffled groans behind the gag, and he tried to shift his hips this way and that, to stop the lab coat from getting a good hold, but he was too weak to fight now, and the little beta managed to wrestle Lucas's jeans and boxes to somewhere just above his knees, his legs too spread by the restraints to get the garments off fully.
Lucas's cheeks still managed to flush warm as he felt so many pairs of eyes on his half hard cock, some scrutinising it with scientific intrigue, others with a smattering of embarrassment and desire, and even some with a sour spike of jealousy. Lucas could smell it all in the still air of the stuffy room.
Lucas was an alpha, it should have been no surprise to the betas in the room that he would be well endowed in some capacity, yet still, some of them reacted like they had never seen an alpha cock before. An alpha was rare, after all.
The doctor reached out to grip Lucas's penis with a firm grip, feeling unpleasant with the rubber texture of the glove, and Lucas tried to wiggle away again. The doctor gave him no time to fight though, before he was coaxing Lucas's semi erection into a plastic tube. Lucas grunted at the feel of the foreign object, outside it looked like just a plastic cylinder attached to some wires and a semi transparent rubber tube, but inside there were ribs and bumps, a soft silicone like texture, that yielded as his flesh was pushed into it, and hugged him tight. There was a wetness that helped ease the device on, and with little fuss, the doctor pressed the tube right up against Lucas’s pubic bone, then with deft hands, began to buckle straps around Lucas’s waist and thighs that kept the machine attached.
Lucas shook his head frantically, fingers curling and uncurling, hips shifting up and down and away. His brain screaming at him. Knot. Your knot. It won't fit in that.
“Alpha's get so protective of their manhood,” there was a giggle that accompanied the statement.
“Subject Four,” the Doctor reprimanded him. “Control yourself.” The Doctor pressed his palms against Lucas’s hips and kept him steady. “Turn on the machine now.”
At the doctor's words, the room filled with the soft hum of machinery as one of the lab coats activated the machine, although Lucas noticed nothing else changing for quite some time.
It started with warmth, a sweet warmth that encircled his penis, that made the slick of lube feel sweet as the silicone insides began to slowly pulse and writhe. Lucas’s cock hardened helplessly under the ministrations, the silicone innards shifting to accommodate his growing size.
Lucas dug his claws into his palms to try and gather some control over himself with the shock of pain but it was fruitless. The machine began to make rolling pulses through the silicone, a tightness that slid up and down his shaft, as if his cock really was slipping in and out of a pair of pussy lips that fluttered and pulsed around his cock greedily.
“Is this taking a long time?” Somebody asked.
Lucas had no concept of time, just the feel of the drug making him soft and the feel of the machine making him hot and shaky. Although the pleasure pooled low in his stomach, it was almost tame, like it was insignificant. He could ignore it, if he wanted to.
“For alphas, it can take a long time to reach ejaculation,” the Doctor explained. “This isn't natural stimulation, so the subject isn't getting the anticipated reaction, which is delaying the process further.”
“What's the reaction they're looking for?” Jenkins asked.
“The cowper's fluid of an alpha contains hormonal secretions that are designed to soften the cervix of an omega, ready for penetration, the alpha's instinct is to ejaculate straight into the womb, so the alpha is looking for that second ring of muscle to penetrate.”
Lucas’s breathing quickened at the words–so clinical, so detached. The doctor's explanation filled the air with a heavy tension. He was a specimen to them, an experiment; everything he'd been was stripped away, leaving only the raw, primal instinct to breed.
Amidst the bright fluorescent lights and sterile walls, it all became a whirlwind of sensations–pain from the restraints, irritable burns from the silver touching his skin, and relentless pleasure from the torturous machine coaxing at his cock. Desperation surged through him. He was aware of the ever-encroaching darkness at the edge of his consciousness, a weight that threatened to pull him under, and he fought against it.
Lucas tried to growl out some plea for mercy, but around the gag all he could make were muffled, choking sounds, coaxing more drool to spurt out between his lips and dribble down his chin and cheeks.
“It seems we may need to introduce external stimuli,” the Doctor mused. “Do we have a recent scent sample?”
Lucas’s mind fluttered, straining to focus on what was going on around him, worry surging at the idea of all that movement just outside his vision. His world had focused down to the pressure of his cock being squeezed and released in waves, and the horrifying idea that his pleasure was pushing against the restraint. He shouldn't, he knew he shouldn't, the machine was impossibly tight around the base of his penis, around the heat he could feel trying to inflate already. His knot was starting to swell as his pleasure was squeezed out of him, and already it was a tight pinch.
Quite suddenly, a cloth was placed over his mouth and nose. Lucas tried to move away from the offending object, but a guard kept a strong hold on the sides of his head, keeping him steady, while Lucas failed to fight taking a breath. The cloth had been laced with something that smelt like cinnamon and cloves, something delicious and warm, that thrummed through his veins, and he groaned, feeling his cock twitch and spurt precum with delicious anticipation.
“That's a very sudden reaction,” a technician noted.
“An alpha is biologically hardwired to react to the smell of an omega,” the Doctor explained. “And the omega was in heat when this sample was procured.”
Omega.
Lucas had never smelt an omega before, let alone one in heat. The smell was everything he didn't know his body needed. Omegas weren't seen in public, as soon as a wolf presented as an omega, they were spirited away somewhere safe, or so Lucas had been told, away from the threat of this very reaction.
Lucas writhed on the table, his body betraying him as the scent wafted over him, thrusting him deeper into a haze of instinct and primal desire. The memories of the chaotic and terrifying moments leading up to this felt distant, dissolved in a fog of lust ignited by the very essence of an omega in heat. It was almost intoxicating, an irresistible wake-up call to something deep within him that yearned to claim, to mate, to breed.
His nostrils flared as he inhaled, his heart racing with a mix of desperate need and overwhelming humiliation. He was caged, restrained, and yet, his body was alive with sensation.
The machine pulsed, the slick and warm interior only feeding into his body's natural rhythm. Lucas’s instincts screamed to break free–to claim his autonomy and resist this invasive violation. He had to remind himself he was more than a test subject, more than a prisoner. Lucas channeled every ounce of determination into opposing the electric thrill coursing through him, trying to force his mind to rise above the humiliation; it was a battle between sanity and instinct–and his sanity was slipping.
The slickness slipped over him intoxicatingly, and just when he thought he could bear it no longer, the scent of an omegas heat made his body crave more. It was a perverse dance of discomfort and unexpected pleasure. Through the haze of humiliation, he found himself teetering on the edge of something that felt alarmingly close to ecstasy.
“Do you understand what's happening to you, Subject Four?” the Doctor asked, his tone smooth and condescending. “Your instincts are taking over. No amount of resistance will save you from the biology that defines you.”
As if the throbbing of his cock wasn't reminder enough of how much of a slave he was to his biology. Lucas groaned wantonly around the ball gag, curling his fingers around the restraints at his wrists, holding on tightly as his hips bucked up into the machine. There was no deeper for him to go, yet instinct still urged him to push further. His cock head was already pressed against the tip of the machine, a rough plastic tube protruding slightly from inside the case, and Lucas scratched his sensitive flesh against it every time he rutted up. Yet somehow, that only added to the pleasure.
“And what a specimen you are,” the Doctor went on, his voice dripping with a mix of arrogance and something far more unsettling. “I am very much looking forward to the data we will gather from this.”
The cloth continued to suffocate him in the warm, inviting aroma of omega heat, sickly sweet and pungent. It curled around him, snaking tendrils of heat through his body, teasing his instincts. He felt the swell of his knot growing bigger, pressing against the restriction of the machine's walls, tightening painfully as he quickly ran out of space to grow to its full size.
Lucas had never knotted anything. He'd heard horror stories of the pain and carnage an alpha knot could inflict to a beta, and his primal fear of getting his knot stuck in an inanimate object stopped him from experimenting with things like normal teenage boys did.
The pressure and pain of his knot grew unbearable, yet still his balls began to tighten, pulling close to his body. The ache transformed into a burning need, his body instinctively searching for release.
The unrelenting drag of the machine and the intoxicating scent of an omegas heat pulled him over the edge into the abyss, and Lucas lost himself to pure, unadulterated bliss.
There was a moment of euphoria as pleasure coursed through his veins, and he glimpsed the thick, white liquid of his ejaculate being sucked through the tube into the machine, before base instinct met an immovable object. His knot swelled, looking for that catch that meant the omega was tied tight to his cock, the breeding taking just right, and crushed painfully against the sides of the machine. Fire raced through his veins. Pain flared like sunspots in his vision. And with a sickening pop, something ruptured. Lucas howled as blood began to mix with semen surging along the tube.
The pain was immense, immeasurable, all consuming. His vision blurred with bright, blinding, pain. He could just make out the commotion of something amongst the lab coats as they stared at the screen on the machine that had just destroyed him, before finally, blissful darkness pulled him under, and he passed out.