5 just a dream #2
By the time I make it into a tiny room, waiting for the doctor, I don’t even mind getting naked and putting on a paper gown because it means I got out of that waiting room.
The beta doctor flares his nostrils briefly when he walks inside, but otherwise he doesn’t say anything.
I explain why I’m here and then wait with a pounding heart as he makes me go through the steps of a physical, followed by what seems like an unnecessarily invasive genital exam.
When it’s all done, he sits on one of those little swivel stools and claps his hands together with a sigh.
“Before I start, why don’t you tell me again what you think is going on with you,” he says in a bland monotone.
“I told you, I’m sick. I smell off, everybody else smells stronger than they should, and I have weird fluid coming out of my ass! I must have a virus or something. I just need some medicine so it’ll pass.”
The doctor sighs again, and the sad expression taking over his face behind his mask tells me all I need to know.
“You’re not sick. You’re presenting. I know it’s probably difficult to hear for a young man like yourself, but your body is that of an omega. Do male omegas run in your family?”
I swallow hard, feeling like I’m floating outside my body and watching this conversation from the corner of the room.
“No. Alphas. Everyone’s an alpha.” The words come out dull.
He nods, like that makes sense. “Well, as different as the two designations are, genetically they’re much closer together than either of them is to beta. So that makes sense. Do you have a family member or someone you want to call for some support?”
I laugh, but it’s a dead, humorless sound.
The doctor doesn’t say anything, but he watches me through it.
He can infer from context what this means.
My dad and his potential reaction to this news is so commonplace it’s bordering on a cliche.
I doubt there are many men who’ve been happy when they got the same news because there’s no way for it to not catastrophically shift your life.
“Okay, well. I have some literature I can give you. Other than the fact that you’re presenting, you seem in great health. I recommend taking off work or school for the next few days to a week and staying someplace safe and comfortable while your body does its thing.
There’s a lot of strange symptoms to expect, but as long as you stay calm, it’ll pass. Trust your instincts. Be near an alpha for scenting comfort, if you can. It doesn’t have to be sexual. A family member or pack mate will work the same.”
I snort at the word ‘sexual’, because the omega part is bad enough without thinking about… that.
The doctor ignores me as he gathers up a bunch of pamphlets and shoves them into my hands, along with a sheet of state omega centers, obviously getting ready to wrap up the appointment.
“Suppressants!” I finally say, realizing what the logical next step is. “I need a prescription for suppressants. Before I go home, so I’m not smelling like this.”
The doctor pauses before looking me up and down, a crease forming between his eyebrows, like he’s concerned.
“I can’t do that. Did you take gender education in high school? It’s extremely dangerous to take suppressants while you’re still presenting. No doctor should prescribe them for you until your first heat is finished, at least.
You could destroy your endocrine system while it’s developing and cause real, long-term damage, including infertility and mental health problems.”
The word ‘infertility’, therefore the concept that I will one day be ‘fertile’ once this is done, shakes me to my core. I can’t do this. I can’t go home like this. This can’t be happening.
I think my desperation must come across to the doctor when I tell him as much because he tilts his head and sits back down again.
“If it’s not safe for you to go home, there are shelters. I can arrange that, if you want.”
Another humorless snort escapes me, because isn’t that a picture? Me, hiding in some rundown shelter with a bunch of battered female omegas, waiting for Dad to finally lose his temper and hunt me down. No, thank you. I’ll hang on to that last little shred of dignity I have left.
I don’t say anything. I don’t even wait for him to leave the room, I just grab my jeans and boxers and pull them on in one motion, yank off the stupid paper gown and throw on my t-shirt and hoody.
It’s way too hot to wear a hoody right now, but I had this desperate need to be as covered up as possible when I left the house, so I just blasted the A/C the whole way here and pretended it wasn’t weird.
“I’m fine,” I tell him when I realize he’s still staring. “Thank you for seeing me.”
As an afterthought, I scoop up all the brochures from the bench and shove them in my hoody pocket. I can read them on the way home and then throw them away at a gas station or something. Just to see what they say.
I don’t read the brochures in the car. I forget they’re there because the second I’m back in my car, alone for once with all the doors shut, I freak the fuck out.
It’s not even crying, I’m just fucking screaming with fear and frustration and pounding my fists on the steering wheel. The urge to drive in the opposite direction of home and never fucking look back is so strong, but I know it won’t work.
Not only will Dad lose his shit and come find me the second I’m gone, I don’t have any money and I barely have any skills. Plus, with every minute that passes, I smell more and more like a walking snack to any passing alpha.
I have never spent a day in my life being scared to just… walk outside. I live in a safe area, and I can protect myself. No one’s assaulting male betas at my college.
As far as I know, at least. It’s not like they would tell anyone if it happened. I wouldn’t. But until this moment, it never seemed like a threat I needed to consider. And now I’m so much more vulnerable.
Thoughts of spontaneous heats and all the rest of it combine with an endless slew of images from porn that fill me with fucking terror.
I never considered the reality of it because I never had to.
And if porn is any kind of reflection of reality, I’m wondering how any omega is spending time doing more than sitting in a locked room, shaking in terror and avoiding every alpha like the plague.
Goddamn it. I am not prepared for this.
I can barely feel my hands on the steering wheel when I start driving home, but I don’t care.
The thought of veering into oncoming traffic isn’t one that I entertain seriously, but I can’t pretend it doesn’t cross my mind.
Everything is so overwhelming, and I just need it to be quiet for a minute. Just to find my feet.
It doesn’t help that the symptoms that started this morning seem to be getting worse, and that smell I’ve developed isn’t going away.
I can’t go home. Four hours of driving later and I still have no idea where I plan to go, or what I’m going to do about this. It isn’t until I pull up in front of Gray’s house for the first time that I realize I didn’t really have any other options.