August

June 22

The first experiment had been a bust, and Will Mackenzie had been unable to pinpoint exactly why it should be so. The two technicians in the lab had exchanged glances with each other, and Will could almost hear their disbelief rising. The second experiment had almost worked - the transition had taken, at least. But the poor rat had a bad reaction and had to be put down afterwards. Will assured them it would work on a human.

So on Wednesday, June 22, they had brought him a young man. The boy was in his early twenties, a late age for such a thing to be done in Dothan, but fine enough, Will supposed. The man was a recruit, one of a particularly dedicated breed. He was slimmer than most of the soldiers, but his muscles cut more clearly. An aquatics unit - a swimmer. He had been the youngest. His hand trembled as he introduced himself to Will Mackenzie, although he did his best to hide it beneath the hem of his thin, papery hospital gown.

Will made small talk with him as he administered the first set of vitamins, the first injection of the cell tissue. The young man knew what was going on - they had told him, had asked explicitly if he was willing to participate in this. In the best case scenario, they told him, he would lose his job. The recruit laughed, shortly, when he described how his CO had said this. In the best case scenario, he would change without incident and then be transferred to a CEC of his choosing for further training into carrier life. Will Mackenzie had struggled to understand this. Why he would agree to such a thing - did he want to leave the military? Did he dislike serving with his unit? The recruit shook his head violently. No, the opposite - he wanted to serve with everything he had. He wanted to take on the ultimate mission. To sacrifice oneself for the good of the Union, and the good of mankind would be an honor. He was an honorable man.

Will Mackenzie wondered if he had ever been that naïve.

~:~

Malcolm had taken to jacking him off in the mornings now, before they both got up to make coffee and oatmeal and assign tasks for the day. Malcolm had begun gently, just soft tugs of Ivan's cock and a slide of fingers, pre-lubricated, along the exterior of Ivan's entrance. Then he had become more insistent - slipping the tip of one finger in, then the entirety of it and Ivan had jumped, but not resisted. Ivan balked at two fingers, however.
"No...Malcolm, just one." he was mumbling, his voice muted by sleep and frustrated arousal. Malcolm raised an eyebrow and continued along his path. Ivan tried to wriggle away from him, but got a dark look and a warning hand that tightened on his hip. He tried closing his legs, but Malcolm held them fiercely apart.
"Stop fighting. Just relax."
Ivan whined a little, but acquiesced, and only made a slight noise of complaint when both fingers entered him, slid into his wet, slippery depths and stroked him gently from the inside out. After a few minutes, Malcolm paused, his own cock straining against his sweatpants. He kissed Ivan's bare belly gently.
"Are you close?"
Ivan, seeing his out, nodded fiercely.
"Yes...so close."
Malcolm grinned and plunged his fingers in deeper, making Ivan lift his hips in response. The carrier arched his back a little, breath quickening.
"Fuck...yes, Malcolm, that's good, right there, perfect, that's good, it's there, oh, fuck, ohhh yes, Mal..."
Malcolm stopped suddenly. Ivan stopped, too, then propped up on his elbows.
"What's wrong?" he asked, breathless. Malcolm looked squarely at him.
"I was waiting for your performance to end. Should I applaud?"
Heat rushed to Ivan's face.
"It's not my fault you don't know what you're doing." he snapped.
Malcolm narrowed his eyes.
"You speak to me out of turn like that again, and I will punish you, Ivan."
Ivan was taken aback by both the viciousness of Malcolm's tone and the intensity of his body's own response. Malcolm looked down, confused, at where his hand joined them.
"You're...spasming."
Ivan tensed and tried to pull away immediately, but Malcolm's other hand held him fast. Ivan shook his head, panic seeping into his voice.
"Stop. You're hurting me."
Malcolm looked skeptically at his spouse.
"Am I."
Ivan nodded, and Malcolm pressed a thumb deeply into the junction of one hip.
"Maybe I want to hurt you."
Ivan went rigid, but inside of him, he felt a rush of wetness and knew he'd been found out.
"Mal - "
Malcolm's forehead creased in sudden, certain understanding.
"Is this what you want, Ivan? Is this what you wanted all along?"
Ivan shook his head.
"Mal, please - "
Malcolm plunged his fingers in deeply, withdrawing a short cry from Ivan. His voice was throaty, and what he spoke was almost a whisper against Ivan's skin.
"Did you want me to hurt you?"
Unexpectedly, tears began to seep across Ivan's cheeks, frightening them both. Malcolm yanked his hands away in horror and pulled back.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to - "
"No!" Ivan flailed out desperately for his husband, found his arm, and clung to it. "No, please." After a hiccuping moment, he gathered himself back together. Eventually, his voice was normal enough to speak again. "I don't...want you to hurt me. But I need you to."

~:~

"Caddy!"
Khalil and Tony came tearing around the corner at top speed and nearly crashed head-on into their friend.
"Hey! Guys! What's up?"
Khalil giggled and looked bashfully up at Caddy.
"Tony's got an idea."
Caddy looked curiously towards the elder boy, who crossed his arms over his chest and grinned proudly.
"It's not fair that you always get left behind when we go in to market. So we want to take you with us!"
Caddy shook his head, trying and failing to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
"Guys, I can't - that's too dangerous. Carriers can't just go wherever they want, remember?"
Tony shook his head.
"No, you can. 'Cause we got an idea - we're going to dress you like a boy!"
Khalil squealed in excitement.
"Yeah! We saw it on a movie - if you're a girl, you can dress up like a boy and nobody will know!" Khalil frowned. "Not for a while, at least. Long enough for you to come to market with us!"
Tony stepped forward.
"Look, you're the same size as me, almost. You can probably fit something of mine. And we'll go in the middle of the day, just for a little while. It'll be fun! Khalil won't tell, and neither will I. And you can be free, for once."
Caddy opened his mouth to protest, but found himself reconsidering. To walk outside again, in the market, among people...he thought for a long minute. Khalil and Tony watched him closely.
"OK." he said, slowly. "But only for a little bit. And we cannot tell anyone."

~:~

Harley Witterbaum stood at the dining room table across from his carrier wife and wondered how he was going to fix this.
"James, I DID NOT tell him, I promise you. You have to just calm down - "
"Fuck you, Harley! Fuck your calm down!"
Because everything that had been available to break on the table had been broken already, James settled for kicking a chair into the corner. Harley watched him apprehensively. James had gotten more and more agitated with every day that Sheridan had been gone. What had started out as a 24-hour crying fit had escalated into a rollercoaster of rage and anguish that left Harley exhausted just from trying to watch. After that, the rampaging had started - half the dishes in the kitchen were gone now, and a window had been put out upstairs. Harley had slipped a sedative into James' water and considered tying him up.

When he woke again, things were worse. The rampage had gone into a full-out attack, and although Harley had luckily had the prescience to hide all the knives and weapons while James slept, it didn't defend him from the carrier's fists and vitriolic hate. When James had exhausted himself with storming against his husband, he had turned the anger on himself, and that was when Harley had really gotten scared.

There was a baby to think about, still - his baby, and he was not entirely sure that James wouldn't carry out the promise he'd made earlier. It was for different reasons, sure, but that was a rational comfort, and James was doing nothing rational at the moment.

The chair in the corner, under the wrath of James' right foot, broke and crumpled.
"I need him, Harley, and YOU took him away from me!! You stole him from me!!"
Harley shook his head.
"Baby, I did not tell anyone, I promise, I swear, just - please, calm down. Please - "
"Fuck your please." James snarled, spitting at the chair, upon whom his rage was still directed. "Fuck you all!"
Then, without warning, the carrier stopped, froze, whimpered, and collapsed into a shivering, sobbing ball on the floor. Harley approached with caution.
"Kill me." James was whispering, over and over again. "I can't stop this. Kill me."

~:~

Henrik was so distracted at dinner that Phidias made it his personal mission to sort out why. Finally, his husband set down his fork.
"It's the rumors of the Dothan formula." he said, quietly. "They've begun to spread."
Phidias frowned.
"OK. So what does that mean?"
Henrik's expression became distant, and he focused off into the desert beyond their balcony.
"It means the myth is beginning to collapse."
Phidias shook his head, still not understanding. Henrik laced his fingers together and rested them beside his plate. Nervously, he said,
"There was an attack on the lab this morning. Someone attempted to get in." he met Phidias' eyes, and his expression was a grave one. "It was the myth that protected us all these years - the unspoken implication that we had some kind of a power - something to hold over all the rest. The warlords, the wanderers, the hideouts, the thieves - they all avoided our territory like the plague. They were afraid our power would come crushing them down. Our borders were safe, safer than any place in the desert protected by simple walls can be." Henrik unhooked his hands and pushed his fork around with one finger. "But this...this attack? It means that no one is afraid of us anymore."

~:~