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Description
Disclaimer - This work contains rapid male pregnancy. If that's not your thing, please hit the back button. Thanks.

--

No sooner than he’d stepped into the building, Richard knew something was amiss. Beatrice, the middle-aged front desk secretary, greeted him with a cheerful greeting as she always did, but there was a strained tension visible in her cherubic face that was clearer than any verbal warning. Bracing himself for the worst, he collected his mail and strode back towards the back offices occupied by the two doctors with whom he shared a private office space, Doctors Sylvester Grant and Marisa Olivier.

They were both seated at a small table next to the coffee machine, matching looks of anxiety upon their faces. It didn’t take a genius to see why; the cause was seated between them, dressed in a meticulous gray suit and navy blue tie. Auburn hair streaked with gray was smoothed back without a single strand out of place and horn-rimmed glasses sat neatly upon his pale, austere nose. A black and silver briefcase rested on the desk before them, on which the suited figure’s long fingers tapped out a calm, steady rhythm.

He bore no badge, no nametag, or any other visible identification. Despite that, there was no doubt as to where he’d come from; the DEMS, or the Division for Experimental Medical Science – a large organization that provided funding for a number of hospitals and practices, theirs included. Although the organization had contributed quite a bit of capital to the maintenance of their facility, everyone knew it was certainly not due to benevolence on their part. As their name suggested, the DEMS often conducted their highly top-secret experiments under the cover of the facilities they provided patronage to in order to prevent discovery.

Richard bit back a scowl of anger; it looked as though it was their facility’s turn to offer ‘assistance’.

“Dr. Peterson,” the suited man stopped his tapping, raising his glasses-covered gaze to meet Richard’s. He didn’t rise to greet him, nor held out a hand for him to shake. Richard was glad; he wasn’t sure he would have been able to return the gesture. “A pleasure to meet you. I’m glad you could join us.”

“Likewise,” Richard answered as tonelessly as he could without sounding rude. “Mister…”

A slim smile spread across the suited man’s thin lips before smoothing back into his calm mask. “Mr. Gray will do just fine,” he replied. “Although introductions aren’t really necessary, as I won’t be here long.”

“Oh?” Richard replied.

Mr. Gray nodded, gesturing to the two doctors seated quietly on either side of him. “I’ve already spoken with your colleagues, Dr. Grant and Dr. Olivier. I’m certain they will be more than able to bring you up to speed.” Finally he rose, pushing the briefcase into the center of the table. “Everything you require is contained within this briefcase.”

Richard stared at it as if it were a poisonous viper, coiled and ready to strike.

Ignoring or either oblivious to his reaction, Mr. Gray went on. “We will be in contact with you within a few weeks to ensure that everyone is set up successfully. We’ll expect routine updates as to the progress of the experiment.” He paused, his eyes sweeping around the room. “I trust we can count on your cooperation? Doctors?”

For several moments, no one said anything. Richard stared at his two colleagues’ faces for some sign of what they had been asked to do. To the right of Mr. Gray sat Sylvester, his face ashen and pale. To the left sat Marisa; although her expression was blank, her blue eyes were dark with anger. It looked as though she was doing everything in her power not to react violently. He appreciated her restraint; there was no telling what would happen if they somehow managed to displease Mr. Gray.

Sylvester seemed to share his sentiments, for he let out a heavy sigh, bowing his head slightly as he gripped the edge of the table. “Very well… Mr. Gray,” he said quietly. “You can count on our assistance in this endeavor.”

Marisa jerked in her seat. “Sylves—”

“Marvelous, Dr. Grant,” Mr. Gray smiled slowly again. “My superiors will be pleased to hear it.” He stepped away from his chair, walking slowly around Marisa and back towards Richard and the door. “As I mentioned previously, I’d like for you and Dr. Olivier to bring Dr. Peterson up to speed straight away. My superiors are very excited about this project and would like data collected as soon as possible.”

“Of course, of course,” Sylvester said quickly, rising to his feet. “We’ll get started right away.” His grip on the table was so hard that his knuckles had turned white.

Mr. Gray nodded in satisfaction. “Good, good,” he replied. “Then don’t let me keep you from your work. I’ll just see myself out then. Good day, gentlemen,” He turned to Marisa, nodding again. “Ma'am.”

Marisa remained completely still, although when Mr. Gray fixed her with another slow smile, she shrank back as if he’d snapped at her. Seemingly amused by her reaction, Mr. Gray smiled as he sidestepped Richard and exited the room.

When the door to the front office closed shut, Sylvester sank back into his chair, his expression making him look far older than his 57 years. “Dear God in heaven…”

“Sylvester!” Marisa hissed, rising from her seat in indignation. “What have you done? What were you thinking, agreeing to that awful man’s demands?!”

“It’s not his demands, it’s the Organization’s demands,” Sylvester told her sternly. “You do not turn down the Organization, no matter what they ask you to do!”

Her lightly painted lips twisted into a sneer. “Last I checked we were researchers, not lackeys to a bunch of jack-booted thugs in three-piece suits!” she spat. “Why can't we just ignore them?"

“Because it’s dangerous,” Sylvester shot right back. “And yes, we are medical researchers – and we have the DEMS to thank for that! The Organization provides a great deal of funding for our own research and basic operations, but only because it pleases them to do so. They have a lot of money and a lot of power and they use it however they want.”

“But Sylvester--” Marisa began.

The older doctor raised a hand to silence her. “I don’t like it either, Marisa,” he said firmly. “But these people do not conform to the same laws that you, or I, or Richard, or anybody else does… We do not have a choice.” He met her gaze stoically, his brown eyes flashing with fear. The look in his eyes suggested he had seen what happened when people defied the DEMS. It was that look alone that made Richard certain that he did not want to know. “If you think pulling our funding is the worst thing they can do to us, you are sadly mistaken.”

The female doctor sat back and stared at him, her eyes wide in disbelief.

Feeling as though he had been left out of the loop long enough, Richard took a step towards the table. The other two doctors started at his movement, as if they’d forgotten he was there. “What is it that they’ve asked of us?”

Marisa scowled. “Something horrible,” she spat.

“That goes without saying,” Richard said lightly.

Sylvester snorted. “That’s the Women’s Libber in her talking,” he muttered dryly. “If you look at it from a purely scientific standpoint, it’s actually quite amazing.”

“'Women's Libber', are you kidding, Sylvester?! It's 2017!,” Marisa scoffed angrily. “I’m looking at it from a human rights standpoint. What they’re asking us to do is wrong, no matter how brilliant you think it is. We’re talking about people’s lives here!”

Richard almost smirked at the staring contest that broke out between his two colleagues. It was times like these that Marisa reminded him of a rebellious and free-spirited sister, and Sylvester their mentor, the stuck-in-his-old-ways traditional father-figure. It made the fact that he lacked a family of his own hurt just a little bit less.

Not wanting to get lost in his own thoughts, Richard took another step forward once again, taking a seat at the table. “Okay,” he said quietly. “What is it they’re asking us to do?”

The others paused and stared at him. After a moment of silence, Sylvester reached for the silver briefcase, pushing it towards him. His face was stoic once again. “Have a look for yourself.”

--

Ironically, it was actually quite thoughtful the way the Organization had set things up for them. They’d provided all the tools and materials needed for the experiment, along with detailed notes and research to consult as it was being conducted; all they really needed to do was carry it out and record data. It would be easy.

The only problem was he couldn’t do it. As Marisa had said, they were truly being asked to meddle with people’s rights and lives without their knowing consent. Did the Organization really expect them to just snatch someone up off the street to conduct their experiment upon? How could they consent to such a thing? Did they have no morals at all?

Apparently not, he thought to himself as he stared down at the manila folder in his hand. Contained within were the specs of a suitable test subject, one that the Organization felt possessed acceptable criteria to complete the experiment. Richard opened the folder, staring down at the data with a sick grimace. The subject was young, several years younger than him, in fact; did they really expect him to abuse the trust of someone in such a way?

He couldn’t, and yet he knew he had no choice. If even one of them refused to comply with the Organization’s request, he knew retribution would rain down swiftly upon all of them. He couldn’t… he wouldn’t do that to Sylvester or Marisa. They were the only family he had.

Richard stared at the manila folder one last time before tossing it into the trash. He knew what he had to do.

End Chapter 1

Description
Disclaimer - This work contains rapid male pregnancy. If that's not your thing, please hit the back button. Thanks.

--

No sooner than he’d stepped into the building, Richard knew something was amiss. Beatrice, the middle-aged front desk secretary, greeted him with a cheerful greeting as she always did, but there was a strained tension visible in her cherubic face that was clearer than any verbal warning. Bracing himself for the worst, he collected his mail and strode back towards the back offices occupied by the two doctors with whom he shared a private office space, Doctors Sylvester Grant and Marisa Olivier.

They were both seated at a small table next to the coffee machine, matching looks of anxiety upon their faces. It didn’t take a genius to see why; the cause was seated between them, dressed in a meticulous gray suit and navy blue tie. Auburn hair streaked with gray was smoothed back without a single strand out of place and horn-rimmed glasses sat neatly upon his pale, austere nose. A black and silver briefcase rested on the desk before them, on which the suited figure’s long fingers tapped out a calm, steady rhythm.

He bore no badge, no nametag, or any other visible identification. Despite that, there was no doubt as to where he’d come from; the DEMS, or the Division for Experimental Medical Science – a large organization that provided funding for a number of hospitals and practices, theirs included. Although the organization had contributed quite a bit of capital to the maintenance of their facility, everyone knew it was certainly not due to benevolence on their part. As their name suggested, the DEMS often conducted their highly top-secret experiments under the cover of the facilities they provided patronage to in order to prevent discovery.

Richard bit back a scowl of anger; it looked as though it was their facility’s turn to offer ‘assistance’.

“Dr. Peterson,” the suited man stopped his tapping, raising his glasses-covered gaze to meet Richard’s. He didn’t rise to greet him, nor held out a hand for him to shake. Richard was glad; he wasn’t sure he would have been able to return the gesture. “A pleasure to meet you. I’m glad you could join us.”

“Likewise,” Richard answered as tonelessly as he could without sounding rude. “Mister…”

A slim smile spread across the suited man’s thin lips before smoothing back into his calm mask. “Mr. Gray will do just fine,” he replied. “Although introductions aren’t really necessary, as I won’t be here long.”

“Oh?” Richard replied.

Mr. Gray nodded, gesturing to the two doctors seated quietly on either side of him. “I’ve already spoken with your colleagues, Dr. Grant and Dr. Olivier. I’m certain they will be more than able to bring you up to speed.” Finally he rose, pushing the briefcase into the center of the table. “Everything you require is contained within this briefcase.”

Richard stared at it as if it were a poisonous viper, coiled and ready to strike.

Ignoring or either oblivious to his reaction, Mr. Gray went on. “We will be in contact with you within a few weeks to ensure that everyone is set up successfully. We’ll expect routine updates as to the progress of the experiment.” He paused, his eyes sweeping around the room. “I trust we can count on your cooperation? Doctors?”

For several moments, no one said anything. Richard stared at his two colleagues’ faces for some sign of what they had been asked to do. To the right of Mr. Gray sat Sylvester, his face ashen and pale. To the left sat Marisa; although her expression was blank, her blue eyes were dark with anger. It looked as though she was doing everything in her power not to react violently. He appreciated her restraint; there was no telling what would happen if they somehow managed to displease Mr. Gray.

Sylvester seemed to share his sentiments, for he let out a heavy sigh, bowing his head slightly as he gripped the edge of the table. “Very well… Mr. Gray,” he said quietly. “You can count on our assistance in this endeavor.”

Marisa jerked in her seat. “Sylves—”

“Marvelous, Dr. Grant,” Mr. Gray smiled slowly again. “My superiors will be pleased to hear it.” He stepped away from his chair, walking slowly around Marisa and back towards Richard and the door. “As I mentioned previously, I’d like for you and Dr. Olivier to bring Dr. Peterson up to speed straight away. My superiors are very excited about this project and would like data collected as soon as possible.”

“Of course, of course,” Sylvester said quickly, rising to his feet. “We’ll get started right away.” His grip on the table was so hard that his knuckles had turned white.

Mr. Gray nodded in satisfaction. “Good, good,” he replied. “Then don’t let me keep you from your work. I’ll just see myself out then. Good day, gentlemen,” He turned to Marisa, nodding again. “Ma'am.”

Marisa remained completely still, although when Mr. Gray fixed her with another slow smile, she shrank back as if he’d snapped at her. Seemingly amused by her reaction, Mr. Gray smiled as he sidestepped Richard and exited the room.

When the door to the front office closed shut, Sylvester sank back into his chair, his expression making him look far older than his 57 years. “Dear God in heaven…”

“Sylvester!” Marisa hissed, rising from her seat in indignation. “What have you done? What were you thinking, agreeing to that awful man’s demands?!”

“It’s not his demands, it’s the Organization’s demands,” Sylvester told her sternly. “You do not turn down the Organization, no matter what they ask you to do!”

Her lightly painted lips twisted into a sneer. “Last I checked we were researchers, not lackeys to a bunch of jack-booted thugs in three-piece suits!” she spat. “Why can't we just ignore them?"

“Because it’s dangerous,” Sylvester shot right back. “And yes, we are medical researchers – and we have the DEMS to thank for that! The Organization provides a great deal of funding for our own research and basic operations, but only because it pleases them to do so. They have a lot of money and a lot of power and they use it however they want.”

“But Sylvester--” Marisa began.

The older doctor raised a hand to silence her. “I don’t like it either, Marisa,” he said firmly. “But these people do not conform to the same laws that you, or I, or Richard, or anybody else does… We do not have a choice.” He met her gaze stoically, his brown eyes flashing with fear. The look in his eyes suggested he had seen what happened when people defied the DEMS. It was that look alone that made Richard certain that he did not want to know. “If you think pulling our funding is the worst thing they can do to us, you are sadly mistaken.”

The female doctor sat back and stared at him, her eyes wide in disbelief.

Feeling as though he had been left out of the loop long enough, Richard took a step towards the table. The other two doctors started at his movement, as if they’d forgotten he was there. “What is it that they’ve asked of us?”

Marisa scowled. “Something horrible,” she spat.

“That goes without saying,” Richard said lightly.

Sylvester snorted. “That’s the Women’s Libber in her talking,” he muttered dryly. “If you look at it from a purely scientific standpoint, it’s actually quite amazing.”

“'Women's Libber', are you kidding, Sylvester?! It's 2017!,” Marisa scoffed angrily. “I’m looking at it from a human rights standpoint. What they’re asking us to do is wrong, no matter how brilliant you think it is. We’re talking about people’s lives here!”

Richard almost smirked at the staring contest that broke out between his two colleagues. It was times like these that Marisa reminded him of a rebellious and free-spirited sister, and Sylvester their mentor, the stuck-in-his-old-ways traditional father-figure. It made the fact that he lacked a family of his own hurt just a little bit less.

Not wanting to get lost in his own thoughts, Richard took another step forward once again, taking a seat at the table. “Okay,” he said quietly. “What is it they’re asking us to do?”

The others paused and stared at him. After a moment of silence, Sylvester reached for the silver briefcase, pushing it towards him. His face was stoic once again. “Have a look for yourself.”

--

Ironically, it was actually quite thoughtful the way the Organization had set things up for them. They’d provided all the tools and materials needed for the experiment, along with detailed notes and research to consult as it was being conducted; all they really needed to do was carry it out and record data. It would be easy.

The only problem was he couldn’t do it. As Marisa had said, they were truly being asked to meddle with people’s rights and lives without their knowing consent. Did the Organization really expect them to just snatch someone up off the street to conduct their experiment upon? How could they consent to such a thing? Did they have no morals at all?

Apparently not, he thought to himself as he stared down at the manila folder in his hand. Contained within were the specs of a suitable test subject, one that the Organization felt possessed acceptable criteria to complete the experiment. Richard opened the folder, staring down at the data with a sick grimace. The subject was young, several years younger than him, in fact; did they really expect him to abuse the trust of someone in such a way?

He couldn’t, and yet he knew he had no choice. If even one of them refused to comply with the Organization’s request, he knew retribution would rain down swiftly upon all of them. He couldn’t… he wouldn’t do that to Sylvester or Marisa. They were the only family he had.

Richard stared at the manila folder one last time before tossing it into the trash. He knew what he had to do.

End Chapter 1