AFF Fiction Portal
GroupsMembersexpand_more
person_addRegisterexpand_more

Payment in Blood

By: TerminusEst
folder +S through Z › Sonic
Rating: Adult ++
Chapters: 11
Views: 2,170
Reviews: 3
Recommended: 0
Currently Reading: 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Sonic The Hedgehog game series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
arrow_back Previous Next arrow_forward

Pins and Needles

Chapter Seven: Pins and Needles

Rex lay conscious on the operating table, staring up at the ceiling. He had been given no anaesthetic; instead, a telepath had completely numbed his arm. Conscious anaesthesia via a telepath was becoming a popular replacement for traditional anaesthesia as they prevented the patient from feeling any pain whatsoever by shutting off the touch and pain receptors in the area being operated on, could reapply their treatment instantly if it began to wear off (as opposed to drugs, which took longer to kick in), and were cheaper than drugs and less risky than either drugs or telepathy-induced unconsciousness. On the other hand, one got to witness the disturbing spectacle of one's own surgery.

Rex watched as the head surgeon pricked his arm with a needle. “Did you feel that?” said the surgeon, a plump, middle-aged fox.

“No.” Rex tried to hide his psychological discomfort, which remained even if he felt no physical pain. The military insurance plan did not cover his accident, so he had opted for the budget route. His eyes passed over the telepath anaesthesiologist, who was clad in black scrubs. Black! he thought. Why do they always have to wear black, even in a hospital? He had always found telepaths frightening, with their black uniforms and the horrible, invasive feeling of them rummaging around in his head. He felt a calm coming over him, most likely induced by the telepath. His breathing slowed and his sense of smell was almost entirely cut off—all the better to keep him from experiencing the smell of lasers burning blood vessels shut to stop the bleeding.

“I think he's ready, Dr. Brigham. You can begin when ready.”

“Just what I wanted to hear,” said the lead surgeon as he picked up a laser scalpel. He put a hand on Rex's forehead. “All right, Rex, I'm going to make the first incision. I would recommend you not watch unless you have a strong stomach.”

Rex always enjoyed observing gore, but it wasn't enjoyable at all this time, now that it was his flesh being split open by the sizzling laser beam, the blood vessels burning closed instantly as the laser went down through the fat and tendon. Another doctor used clamps to pry the muscles apart, exposing the bone of his upper arm.

Then Dr. Brigham produced a drill.

Rex immediately looked away as the drill whirred to life. Oh God, I should have paid the extra money, he thought as the drill bit descended towards his humerus bone.

--

“Remember, girls, that your pistol is your whole fucking life when you're in the presence of the enemy. Master your pistol, and it will save you. If you can't shoot straight, you will die.” Warrant Officer Ivanov seemed to describe firearms almost as if they were holy icons as he walked behind the row of cadets at the firing range. Today was their first live fire exercise, shooting their pistols at wooden targets with melons in the centers. The watermelons represented heads.

Adrian shivered in the frigid Orososh air. Even with a heavy winter uniform and gloves, he was freezing. He tried to stop shivering, as it would ruin his aim, but it seemed uncontrollable. A chill wind blew from the southeast, whipping up snow and casting his surroundings in a thin haze. It was dark outside, as it was still morning, with only the ubiquitous orange glow sodium floodlights providing illumination. He could hardly imagine a gloomier place.

“So, Crow,” said Ivanov, walking over to Adrian. “Are you going to fuck this up like you fuck up everything else?”

“Sir, no, sir,” said Adrian, although he really wanted to say, “Burn in hell!

“We'll see about that. Try not to shoot your own balls, if you have any, which is doubtful.”

Adrian did his best to ignore him, keeping the strongest grip he could muster on his pistol's handgrip, imagining it was the warrant officer's throat.

“All right, bitches, three...two...one...fire!”

Adrian fired three shots, but his hands were shaky from the cold and his scrawny arms could barely cope with the recoil. Two bullets landed in the outer circle, the third missing the target completely.

“What was that, you said, Crow, that you wouldn't fuck up? I don't like bullshit, Crow.”

“Sir, I--” Adrian's sentence was interrupted when Ivanov kicked him in the back, sending him sprawling into the snow.

“So did any of you other pissants manage to hit a watermelon?” bellowed Ivanov as he walked away from Adrian. He noticed that Isaac Sharpe's bullseye watermelon was missing it's upper half. “Wow, Cadet Sharpe, maybe you're actually good for something besides rectal spelunking. That's even better than my five-year-old nephew with Down syndrome can do with his lawn darts.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Sharpe with the impossibly straight face all cadets learned to affect.

Adrian doubted that Ivanov even had any of the disabled relatives that he enjoyed comparing the cadets to. The young hedgehog's back was sore and he was even colder than ever, but he got up anyway. He was thankful he had engaged the handgun's safety before Ivanov kicked him, or it might have fired, and possibly hit something that was alive or expensive.

Adrian pulled the slide back on his pistol to clear out any snow from the mechanism as the instructor gave the order to raise weapons. On cue, he fired another three shots, doing his best to steady himself, spreading his feet wide for anchorage. This time, two bullets hit the outer ring and one midway between the outer edge and the bullseye.

Ivanov snorted. “Give me that fucking thing, Crow. You couldn't hit the broad side of two barns jammed up against each other.” The drill instructor snatched the gun out of Adrian's hand, and within a second, raised it and fired three rounds of his own. The first hit dead center, sending pink mist and watermelon fragments in all directions, and the second pierced the bullseye dot behind where the watermelon once was. Ivanov then tossed what was left of the watermelon aside and placed a new one on the post in front of the target, and walked back to his post to direct the group of cadets.

Adrian stared at the watermelon, which had a smiley face drawn on it in permanent marker. He never imagined shooting a gun could be so hard. The weapon bucked violently when he fired it, and the cold kept making him shiver. He pulled back the slide of his gun again, and readied himself for another go, and another, and another. Someday he would master it. He had to. He couldn't imagine putting up with Ivanov's abuse forever.

--

“So how was your operation?” said Bookshire as he walked up to Rex's bedside. “I trust Dr. Brigham took good care of you.”

“Only slightly horrifying. Oh God, why a drill? Why a drill?”

“It's okay now, the surgery is over. Everything went fine, even if you did faint as they inserted the rod into your bone. You know, they tell you to look away if it bothers you for a reason.”

Rex sighed. “Will this thing ever come out?”

“Probably not. It won't do any harm staying in there, and I doubt you want to go through another surgery to have it removed later and wait for a couple of months for the hole in your bone to fill in.”

“Well, thank God it's carbon fiber instead of metal, so it won't show up on metal detectors and get me pulled aside as if I were a suspected terrorist.”

“Connie's coming over to the hospital to see you.”

“Could you 'accidentally' increase my morphine dosage?”

“Look Rex, I'm not going to sedate you so you don't have to deal with your own wife. It's not far to you, me, or her. I know you don't like to be lectured, but right now you need a lecture. Please don't be a baby about this. You're going to be thirty in a few years, for God's sake. Why don't you act like it?”

Rex shrugged.

"Have you talked to your friend Adrian recently?”

“Yes. He's depressed. He's always depressed. Sometimes, talking to him makes me depressed. He thinks the world hates him and he'll never amount to anything. He's a nice guy, but it's like he has his own little gray cloud raining on his head.”

“Have you ever thought that you and he might have more in common than you thought?”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it. You just ask me to drug you until you lose consciousness because you don't have the guts to face your own wife. Is that not also self-defeating, self-pitying, and immature, just like his outlook on life? Maybe you're not paranoid about everyone and everything being out to get you like he is, but you share some of his faults, and I don't think you even realize it.”

Rex said nothing, just staring at the ceiling. After around a minute, he spoke again. “Bookshire?”

“Yes.”

“Why haven't I gotten my clothes back?”

Bookshire looked like he was trying very hard not to smirk. “Your modesty is irrelevant to whether or not you get better, Rex, and that's the main focus of a hospital. I have some other patients to attend to, so I'll see you later. Stay under the covers if you're so worried about exposing yourself.”

“Bye, Bookshire,” said Rex as the raccoon left the room. He braced himself for the blistering round of admonishment that Connie would undoubtedly give him. By now he was beginning to think he deserved it.

--

Adrian gulped as he lay on the examination table. Today he was getting, besides a routine physical exam, the first of numerous rounds of vaccinations he would receive that would protect him against diseases that he might encounter in the future during advanced job training and in the course of his duties when he graduated. Healthcare workers always had to undergo a large number of immunizations, as they could be exposed to all manner of dangerous and unusual pathogens.

Adrian hated needles with a passion. They always seemed to be a great deal more painful than most people said they were, and even the sight of them could make him shudder. He sometimes wondered if the only thing that kept him from fainting while getting shots was his high blood pressure. Before leaving him to wait for the doctor, a nurse had taken his height, weight, blood pressure, and had him change into one of those damnable hospital gowns that seemed to not only expose, but actually draw attention to, his naked buttocks. It was almost as if they were designed specifically to make him look ridiculous and pathetic.

“Oh, fuck this thing!” he moaned as he undid the ties in the back and threw the gown to the floor. It's not like I wasn't practically naked anyway with that thing on, he thought.

/Being passive-aggressive, are we, Adrian?/ boomed a voice in his head. Adrian recognized the voice immediately.

/Sammy?/ Adrian responded telepathically.

“That's right,” said Sammy as he opened the door. “I see you're not a fan of exam gowns.”

“I'd rather be naked than wear one of those abominations. It's as if they cover everything except the parts that should be covered. Your ass hangs out the back, and when you sit down, everyone else gets a nice unobstructed view of your crotch. What the hell is up with that?”

“To make examination and patient care easier, that's what. But I've seen enough naked bodies to not care anymore, so I don't give a whirl if you take it off or not. I can feel your complete and total dread about what will happen to you, so let's just get it over with quickly. Turn over onto your stomach with your legs slightly apart,” said Sammy as he picked a syringe out of a drawer in the table.

Adrian complied, his mind reeling in horror over the implication of where the needle would go. That familiar feeling of vertigo and nausea began to overcome him. His fears were confirmed when Sammy touched his left buttock, feeling for a fleshy area to put the needle in. “Holy hell, you're underweight,” said Sammy. “There's hardly any meat on here.”

“Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God...” Adrian whimpered. The room seemed to spin around him, and he felt like throwing up.

With one hand, Sammy put a hand on Adrian head, calming his patient telepathically, still using the other hand to feel for a good place to insert the needle into Adrian's rump. “It's going to be okay, Adrian. Don't move or it will hurt more.” With that, he stuck the needle into Adrian's rear end.

The young hedgehog cried out in pain, stiffening as if he was having a seizure. His sudden jerking knocked the needle off course, causing it to briefly glance against his pelvis, intensifying the pain. He suddenly felt the pain lessen as Sammy entered his mind again to calm him down.

“Are you all right?” said Sammy. “You almost scared me to death. You react to needles as if you were being stabbed with a knife.”

“Please don't stick me again, please!” Adrian's eyes were wide and edged with tears, and he clutched desperately at Sammy's scrubs, pleading for the injections to stop.

“I completed the injection, although the needle got knocked against bone when you thrashed around, so it's going to hurt for a couple of days. I don't think you're in any state to be receiving another injection today, so I'm rescheduling the rest of today's injections for Thursday. Also, I may have to start working on helping you overcome some of your phobias in our training sessions. You won't be able to get this job if you can't take the full set of vaccinations.”

“How many are there?”

“Four hundred and thirteen all told, but they're usually spread over around a year, a few twice each week. Many people wash out or transfer to another branch of service because they can't tolerate the vaccinations—they might get sick from them, or panic. Hopefully that won't happen to you.”

“So I'm not the only one who is like this with needles?”

Sammy smiled. “Not by a long shot, Adrian, and you can get used to them.” The blue fox put a bandage over the injection site. The spot was still tender and Adrian winced as the bandage was applied.

“I'm sorry for being a wuss about this. I don't know why needles scare me so much, they just do.” Adrian rolled over onto his back, raising his knees to try to keep the sore area from contacting the exam table.

“I'll write a note excusing you from the rest of today's classes. Just go back to your room and rest, and maybe your girl can kiss it and make it better.” Sammy finished his statement with a knowing wink.

“Hey!” Adrian yelled as he sat up. “I am not...”

“But of course you are. As soon as you stopped thinking about how much your ass hurts, you started broadcasting your thoughts of her ass. And since I'm touching your mind to keep you from losing your shit, it went straight into my head. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone, and I'm not interested in her.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“I...don't want to talk about it right now. Maybe later.”

“Yes you do; you're just afraid to say anything,” said Adrian as he sat on the edge of the exam table, “I can feel that you have some sort of conflict. You can tell me about it. And no, I'm not trying to imply that you're gay. You always want me to get things off my chest, so now it's your turn. You were going to give me a physical anyway, so we have plenty of time.”

Sammy closed his eyes briefly, and nodded. “All right. I'll talk about it while examining you, but only if you promise not to repeat anything, and I mean anything, that I tell you. I'm going to tell you things that you're really not supposed to know, and we'll both be in a world of trouble if anyone finds out we had this conversation.”

“I'll keep your secrets safe.”

“Have you ever had sex with a woman without really getting to know her?” said Sammy as he put the end of his stethoscope against Adrian's chest.

“What kind of question is that?”

“I'm serious.”

“Yes, but just once. I felt really bad about it.”

“You felt guilty about it, and dirty, and used, even though you did it out of your own free will. Imagine if you had done it as a fifteen-year-old boy instead of as a young man, under duress. I'm twenty-five years old, and I have a nine-year-old son that I rarely get the chance to talk to, who I conceived because I was told to, with a woman I didn't know the name of, because the MGBA thought our genes would produce a telepathically powerful child. Imagine what it must've been like for me. And then imagine having to do it every two weeks for the rest of your life. If you had only scored a little higher on your MGBA evaluation, you would be living this life right now.”

Adrian was stunned. It was almost too disgusting and ludicrous to be true. The MGBA's total control over telepaths was well known even to normals, although they rarely spoke of it for fear of being locked up for “disseminating classified information”, but this was, if not the most awful rumor he had ever heard about them, close to it.

Sammy handed Adrian a photograph showing a dark blue fox boy in the typical black MGBA uniform. “Meet Ozzy McCaffrey,” said Sammy. He might have my last name, but his real mother and father are the instructors, nannies, staff members, and bureaucracies acting in unison to turn him into a good little grade 35 telepath to serve in the MGBA's elite units. I'm just a name to him, a picture, a single letter delivered each month. I have no idea who his mother is, nor the mothers of God knows how many other kids I've had that the MGBA hasn't let me know about.

“That's terrible. They've made you into a stud, like a stallion or a bull on a farm?”

“That's right. Your father was the same way, before he went rogue, dated your mother, raped her, and threw her into a ditch. Maybe you have some stepbrothers and stepsisters out there, with his last name instead of your mother's. Since you're his last child and an adult, you likely have countless nephews and nieces already.”

“If I weren't linked up with your mind right now, I'd call you a liar.”

“You're a lucky young man, Adrian. You're falling head over heels in love, and if it works out, you could raise a family of your own, just like the humans who took you in. I'll never have a family, I'll never be in love, and I'll never know sex as anything other than a duty that leaves me feeling exhausted, embarrassed, and dirty.”

“But surely you don't spend your whole life alone; that would drive you crazy. I've been so lonely at times that I've almost gone crazy myself.”

“But the thing is, even if you hate sex, you're still hard-wired to want sex and need sex, since you're still at your core just like everyone else. Some people have homosexual relationships, which the MGBA doesn't mind because they have no bearing on the MGBA's giant eugenics project. I have a very rich and powerful father who pulled a lot of strings to try to get me brought up his way as much as possible. He's an old man, and he was born and raised before the MGBA was really established. He doesn't like gay people, and, well, he rubbed off on me a little bit. I don't like homosexuality, don't like the idea of it, and if you've ever partaken in it, please don't tell me. We're raised in troops like Boy Scouts, and a lot of my troop-mates say I'm irrational for having such thoughts, but that's just the way I am. So I take pills. There are these little gray pills I take to suppress my sexuality. I can still do the act, as I must, but I don't feel anything emotionally anymore. I took that part of me and killed it.”

“Doesn't your life feel empty?” said Adrian as he lay down so that Sammy could examine his chest and belly.

“It used to,” said Sammy as he tapped sharply on Adrian's chest, listening for the sounds produced, which, if abnormal, could indicate health problems. “Some telepaths find meaning in sodomy, others find meaning in God, I find meaning in practicing medicine. I feel as if every life I help makes my own that much better. No, wait, that sounds stupid. What am I saying?”

“I guess you carry a heavier load than I ever imagined. I can't even deal with a needle in my ass cheeks, never mind all of that. But I was wondering—why did you decide to tell me all of this?”

“Because I'm a smart man, or at least I like to think I am, and you're also a smart man, and therefore it's quite likely that if I didn't tell you or just gave you bullshit, you'd keep on pressuring me until I gave in.”

“Hmmm. Well, thanks for talking to me about this. If there's anything I can do to help you--”

“Let me worry about my life. You focus on yours. You've gone from living a very sheltered life to a stressful and difficult one. With all the losers in the world, you shouldn't be ashamed of freaking out over a vaccination. I've seen people who pass out at the very thought of getting them. Well, your chest and abdominal cavities seem to have nothing wrong with them, so let's move on to your arms and legs. Do you have any history of hand or foot pain?”

“Yes, I've had foot pain ever since I was a child. My adoptive father—the human father, not the crazy psycho telepath lunatic whose sperm cell became half of me—would lay me down on the couch and rub my feet after school.”

“Are you asking me to do the same thing?”

“No. Yes.” Adrian's cheeks reddened. “It doesn't matter who offers it, really, I wouldn't say no.”

“Sorry, I'm a doctor, not a masseur. Besides, you have a girlfriend, don't you?”

“Well, yeah,” said Adrian, It's just that—ow!” Adrian looked down to see that Sammy had pressed down hard on his big toe and was now looking at the nail. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“I pressed own on your toenail to see how long it took for the color to come back, to make sure you don't have circulatory problems. It looks fine. I'm almost finished. I have only a few tests left to go.”

“Oh. So what will you do—oh Jesus Christ! Oh God, not that kind of tests!” Adrian screamed as Sammy pulled out the familiar latex examination gloves. He winced as he instantly sat up and the tender area where he had been injected grazed against the examination table.

“Don't worry,” said Sammy as he laid Adrian back down on the table and spread the hedgehog's legs apart. “It's okay as long as neither of us enjoys it.”

--

“Are you proud of yourself, Rex?” said Connie as she sat down by Rex's bedside. “You totaled our car, broke your arm, jeopardized your career, and cost us thousands of credits for your little joyride. And for what, so you could have fun speeding?”

“I'm sorry, I just wanted to--”

“Break the law? Don't you have some sense of responsibility? Don't you have dignity? Why do you do this to yourself?

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Connie huffed. “You wouldn't know a good idea if it slapped you across the face! You're not just hurting yourself, Rex, your hurting me, your friends, and our daughter. Our insurance rates are going to be so high it will be a miracle if we can even afford to replace the car! I'm sure your superior officers will love to hear of your arm injury and criminal record when you go back on duty, as well. And come to think of it, your future subordinates as well. Skitz called me and he says he's on his way here to see you.

“Why? Why can't everyone leave me alone?” Skitz was a member of Rex's squadron, and was about the same age as he was. Skitz, or "Schizo" as he was called in the cockpit, liked to poke fun at Rex and mess with him. For Skitz, this would be an absolutely golden ribbing opportunity.

“Because we care about you, Rex, even if you don't care about yourself. Do you have any idea how much it hurts me to be having this conversation, especially since it shouldn't have been necessary in the first place?”

“Look, I'm sorry, OK? I never thought this would happen.”

“Which is why it happened, because you never think things through. If things happened just a little bit differently, I could be attending your funeral right now. You're not invincible, Rex. Surely after seeing what happened to Riptos you would realize that.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Hey, it's me, Skitz. Can I come in?”

“Sure,” said Connie. “I'm going to be leaving now anyway.” She turned to Rex and put a hand on his forehead. “Well, I guess I'll let Skitz deal with you now. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Connie. I'm sorry about all this, I really am.”

“I hope you mean that,” said Connie as she walked out the door.

Skitz promptly let himself in, the short, red-and-green-striped hedgehog looking at Rex with a mixture of pity and annoyance. “I'm sure Riptos would have some interesting things to say were he not already drowning in his own problems. Perhaps he would question the wisdom his picking you as his successor as head of the squadron.”

“Are you here to actually say something constructive or are you here to take your frustration at being turned down as Riptos's replacement on me? I'm sure Riptos would have some things to say about your big mouth.”

“Hey, hey, cool your jets, man. But, seriously, man, what the hell were you thinking?”

Rex rolled his eyes. “I wasn't. If I was I wouldn't be lying here with a broken arm and a suspended driver's license.”

“How long until you can get it back?”

“A year,” said Rex with a heavy sigh. “And as soon as the nurses let me out of bed I'll have to talk to my probation officer.”

“How long until your arm works again?”

“Eight weeks, Bookshire says. I''ll probably be better in time to be called back on duty.”

A grin suddenly split Skitz's face. “Deathwish has a get-well-soon gift for you.” Skitz produced a candy box and handed it to Rex.

“What the fuck? Heart candies? Are you sure this isn't Pinky's gift?” Rex opened the box and found that the candy pieces were no normal heart candies. The pieces, instead of the usual Valentine's day messages, had inscriptions like “MY BITCH”, “GO TO HELL”, “STAB ME”, “EAT SHIT”, and so on. “Charming,” muttered Rex. “Figures Daniel would give me something stupid like this, and it also figures you would find it funny. Simple minds are easily amused, they say.” Rex put one of the pieces in his mouth and instantly recoiled, as the piece of candy was so sour that it burned his tongue. He spit it out and grimaced.

“How does it taste?”

“Corrosive. Like Warheads dissolved in lemon juice and battery acid.” Rex took the glass of water sitting on his nightstand and quickly took a slug to wash out the taste of the candy. “Do you have any idea how Riptos is doing?”

“He's not doing well at all. I saw him a couple of days ago. He's lost a lot of weight, and he wouldn't get out of bed. He just lay there, and when I gave him a hug he started crying.”

“I never imagined there would be a day when Riptos would cry right in front of other people.”

“Yeah, I know, it's really frightening seeing how he's just fallen apart,” said Skitz as he ran his fingers over the spines on top of his head to keep red stripe straight. It was something Skitz did often. Rex wondered if Skitz did it out of restlessness, anxiety, boredom, or just plain vanity. “Some people, when they're really traumatized, they just break, you know?”

“Yeah. I once visited a military psych hospital where they were keeping the people who cracked up before cashiering then and shipping them back home. One of them had this look of total defeat and helplessness in his eyes that scared the ever-living hell out of me. When I talked to Riptos after he woke up after the battle of Mobius, he had that exact same look in his eyes, and I knew that his life as an independent person was basically over.”

“Yeah, I pray for him every day. And tonight, I think I'll pray for you as well, and ask God if He could put some damn sense in your brain.”

“Har har har.”

“Hey, think we could have a night on the town when you're out of the hospital? I know some teetotalers who could be designated drivers.”

“I'm on probation. I'm not allowed to drink or go to bars.”

“Oh yeah, forgot about that. Well, I better get going now. I'll see you later.”

“Take it easy, Skitz,” said Rex as he waved at him.

“I will. And I still can't believe they promoted you over me.”

“Blow me,” said Rex.

“Sorry. Can't do that. I'm sure Pinky would be happy to oblige, though.” Skitz waved back and left the room.

--

“Adrian?” said Bianca as she entered the dorm and saw her roommate lying on the couch. “Shouldn't you be attending class?”

“The doctor let me have the day off because I jumped when he gave me a shot in the butt and the needle hit bone. It hurts. A lot.”

“You sure do have a knack for getting hurt.”

“Hey!” said Adrian, sitting up and folding his arms over his chest. “It's not my fault that I'm scared of needles!”

“But there's nothing to be afraid of, Adrian. They're not giving you injections to harm you.”

“I don't know. They're needles, and I hate them. They make me feel dizzy. If my blood pressure wasn't through the roof they'd probably make me pass out.”

“They never bothered me. I give a pint of blood every month.”

Adrian clutched his head with his hands. “Just the idea of that makes me feel sick. Please don't talk about it anymore.”

“All right, I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“A bag of ice would be good.”

“Coming right up,” said Bianca as she walked over to the dorm refrigerator. “I suppose I don't have to ask where you'll put it?”

“Not really,” Adrian said as he lay back down again. He wondered how he would be able to get through the hundreds more vaccinations he would receive during training, never mind the needles Sammy was going to stick him with to try to desensitize him to them. Does he think that will really work? he thought.
arrow_back Previous Next arrow_forward

Age Verification Required

This website contains adult content. You must be 18 years or older to access this site.

Are you 18 years of age or older?