[Psst, Patreon subscribers can read what happened between chapters 1 and 2, link in the banner below] 

[CW: a humiliating medical procedure involving anal and birth canal]

*****

“You’ll consult my doctor about scheduling your procedure.”

I took a quick glance at Commander Stoll, who was zipping up his pants. I turned away again, shivering in disgust and exhaustion. I wanted to forget the past hour. I wanted to forget how brutally he had taken advantage of me, how he had tried to break me and my will. But first, my body and spirits needed to heal and forget the pain I’d once again had to endure in the hands of an alpha.

“Procedure, sir?” I repeated, quickly pulling my pants back on.

“Your womb. I told you it needs to be tied up,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” I said in defeat.

He snorted in amusement, then stepped behind me and grabbed me by my chin, forcing my head back.

“Look at you learning to be obedient,” he murmured, and bit my neck, like he hadn’t already chewed it raw. “Such a good soldier…”

“How will I know which doctor to call?” I asked, and he let me go. I used that opportunity to take a few steps away from him, trying to stay up on my shaky feet.

“I’ll have my secretary make the appointment for you. He’ll be in contact with you.”

“And… After the procedure, what happens after that?” I asked.

“We’ll talk about that the next time we meet,” he said.

“Next time, sir?”

He gave me an evil smile. “Next time you’re in heat, you come here and prove yourself to me again.”

I shivered, feeling cold and sick. He laughed.

“I want to see if it’ll change your attitude, or if you still hate me. And I need to make sure you weren’t lying to me when you said your heat won’t affect alphas,” he said, then sniffed my neck. “I don’t get a strong scent from you.”

“Because my medication works,” I said.

“And when will you prove that?”

I swallowed and hesitated before I said, “My next heat is in three weeks.”

“Splendid,” he said, giving me a smile that promised nothing good.

*****

My consultation about the procedure was three days after that. I felt sick when I woke up that morning, even though the procedure itself would be scheduled during the consultation and wouldn’t happen today.

I arrived at the small clinic just outside the city early in the morning and checked myself in at the front desk. The nurse behind it glanced at me, then at the papers she’d printed out for me, then back at me with her expression turning degrading.

“So you’re here to get tied up?” she asked.

“For the consultation about my birth control,” I corrected her quietly.

She raised her heavily painted eyebrows and snorted. “Have a seat. Someone will come get you shortly.”

I nodded, took my papers, and went to sit down. I tried to ignore her giving me disapproving glances. I felt filthier with each passing moment. She thought I was a prostitute. I couldn’t think of another reason for her to give me such judgmental stares.

They made me wait for almost an hour before another nurse called me in. I was glad to escape the suffocating waiting area, but then I entered the nurse’s office and saw the lousy state the place was in. The room itself was straight from the old horror movies with green tiles covering the walls, and ruthlessly bright lights making eerie, lifeless shadows in the corners.

“So, you’re here to get your uterus tied up, Mr. Steele?” the nurse said, her expression similar to the lady at the front desk.

“For the consultation,” I repeated like a sheep as I sat down.

“Of course,” she said, taking a look at my papers. “Well, let’s begin then. You do understand that these procedures should not be your first option, correct?”

“Yes. I am on birth control pills, but–”

“And they’re not working?” she asked, interrupting me.

“They are working, but in my line of work, there may be times I don’t have access to them,” I said.

“And what line of work would that be?” she asked, looking like she already knew the answer.

“I’m in the military,” I told her.

“Oh, an omega? Working for the military?” she said, not believing me.

“Yes.”

“I see,” she said. “So in your… line of work… you can’t get your pills, is that right?”

“No. I can take them, but in case something happens, like if I get captured, I won’t be able to take them,” I said, trying not to get frustrated.

“And how often would you say you’ll be captured?” she asked, now clearly making fun of me.

“Look. I need this operation. My employer requires it,” I said sternly. “Isn’t that all you need to know?”

“Certainly, but,” she paused. “I’m required to make sure you understand the dangers of this procedure, and that you should not get one done just because you want to have a little fun. You understand?”

“And I’m required by my employer to get this procedure,” I repeated.

“All right then. Let’s talk about the procedure,” she said, hiding her annoyance behind her fake smile. “Up to twenty percent of patients will die after getting this procedure due to infections and other complications,” she said bluntly. “Up to sixty percent will end up hospitalized during the first six months.”

I was taken aback. “Twenty?”

“Yes. Which is why I’m trying to make sure you understand what you’re asking for,” she said, happy I was finally listening.

“But we’re talking about Hochleng’s procedure, right?” I asked, since I’d read about it and these numbers didn’t match.

“No. It says here you’re in for Brann’s procedure,” she said, pointing at my papers.

“But that’s… Bitch Lace?” I asked.

“More commonly known as Bitch Lace or Omega Lace, yes,” she said with a nod.

I sat in my seat in silence, trying to understand her words. But then I remembered what commander Stoll said to me.

“The army will cover the costs, but that means you won’t get to decide which operation you’ll have.”

This was the cheapest possible operation there was. In this cheapest fucking hospital he could find. I wanted to walk out of the room right that instant, but I couldn’t afford the better, safer procedures, and Stoll sure as hell wasn’t going to pay for them, either.

“Twenty percent, huh?” I muttered, now understanding why these nurses treated me like a prostitute. Cheap procedures for cheap whores.

“Yes. The risk of infection is extremely high, which is why this procedure isn’t recommended anymore.”

I closed my eyes in defeat. “I’m required by my employer to get this procedure,” I repeated quietly.

“And you’re willing to risk your life for your job?” she asked.

“Yeah…” I breathed out.

“Well, in that case, you’ll have to sign a waiver before we can schedule your appointment.”

I just nodded.

“If you’re sure, then let’s go over the procedure,” she said, pulling up a few old, laminated drawings of a male omega’s reproductive organs. “So this tube here, starting close to your anus, is your birth canal, also known simply as opening. You can see it travels right next to your anal cavity until it reaches your uterus. When you’re in heat, this canal opens like a hood or umbrella, blocking the anal cavity and guiding the penis to the uterus instead.”

She pulled out the next drawing. It had the same picture in it, but this time, most of the inner wall of the anal cavity was sown with crossing stitches.

“With Brann’s procedure, your doctor will use stitches to keep that hood closed. It won’t, however, stop the swelling of the birth canal, which will cause discomfort and pain in most cases since it’s forced to expand toward your uterus instead. But on the bright side, the anal cavity won’t get blocked, so you are free to have sex. I’m sure your partner appreciates that.

“Now, about the danger of this procedure. Once the stitches are in place, you are required to use a rectal tube at least for a week to protect your healing anal cavity from bacteria. In most cases where patients have been hospitalized or died, they have ignored the proper care during the healing period, and the wounds have gotten infected.

“Once the cavity is fully healed, you can remove the rectal tube and dispose of it. You can defecate and have sex normally after that, but you must keep in mind that pulling or excess rubbing of the stitches may cause tearing of the surrounding tissue, which can lead to infection. Untreated, this infection can lead to death. You can, however, try to avoid tearing by using enough lubrication.”

I felt sick. I felt more than sick as I listened to her. If I were to be raped, would they use enough lube…? I felt sick because this tearing was a bigger concern to me than getting raped.

Sixty percent end up in a hospital. Twenty die.

“Got it,” I finally said.

“Well then. If you still are sure, let’s book your appointment,” she said, turning to face her computer.

“Sure…” I said, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to keep myself warm.