hell no
Sitting in the unfamiliar hotel room, I stare at the ID lying on the bed before me. "Ivan Ororv", it reads, with the designation of "omega" next to my name. Despite the familiarity of my own name, everything else is starkly different.
This world's history diverges from what I know, introducing the concept of three genders: alpha, beta, and omega. My eyes drift to the omega symbol on my ID, a symbol now embedded into my very identity.
The leather collar around my neck, I thought to be a mere fashion statement, now holds a deeper significance. It's a protective measure, safeguarding the vulnerable nape of an omega. In this world, where assault can lead to a bond that's difficult to break, the collar serves as a constant reminder of vulnerability and the need for caution and a protective measure. I tug on the strong material of the collar, feeling its weight and significance. Scary.
As I navigate my phone to unlock it, the screen reveals a surprise. I'm listed as a struggling 22 year old model, a career path that seems to follow me across dimensions. It's seems that, no matter the world, I am destined to be in the Not that I've been to many dimensions.
Sighing softly, I reflect on my situation. "I guess this is my life now," I mutter to myself.
The sound of the phone alarm jolts me from my thoughts, reminding me of the reality of this world. Suppressants. I remember now. In this world, omegas like me take suppressants to avoid unwanted attention and advances from alphas. It's a necessary precaution, won't catch me slacking.
Quickly, I navigate to an online app and order the suppressants. As I wait for the delivery, curiosity gets the better of me. I decide to delve into some research about the health and biology classes in this world. It's fascinating and, at times, a bit alarming.
Unlike our female counterparts, male omegas in this world give birth through surgery. The thought of what I thought would be the birth canal makes me shudder involuntarily. And then there's the revelation about female alphas being called "Futas". It's all so different from what I'm used to.
Lost in my "research", hours slip by unnoticed. Suddenly, there's a knock at the hotel door, pulling me back to reality. With cautious steps, I approach the door and open it slightly, enough to retrieve the pills from the delivery person. I hand over some bills, hastily closing the door once more.
As I hold the suppressants in my hand, I can't help but feel a sense of unease. This world is full of nuances and complexities that I'm still trying to grasp. The idea of seducing anyone with my "pheromones" seems like a risk I'm not willing to take. It's better to be safe than sorry in this unfamiliar world. It's safe to be cautious.
I take the pills, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling over me like a heavy blanket. The events of the past day have left me drained, both physically and mentally. With a heavy sigh, I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The next morning, I wake up feeling slightly disoriented. It takes a moment for me to remember where I am and what has transpired. Checking out of the hotel, I head towards what I believe is my one-bedroom apartment. But doubts creep in. What if my kidnappers are waiting for me there? I can't take any chances.
Deciding to be prepared, I make a detour to a nearby store. I purchase a high-voltage taser, a pocket knife, pepper spray, and a street hoodie. Armed with these makeshift weapons, I continue on to my apartment.
As I approach the building, my heart pounds in my chest. The thought of confronting whoever was behind my abduction fills me with a mix of fear and anger. Stepping into the apartment, I'm surprised to find a man waiting for me. He's tall, handsome, with dark hair.
"So you're here? Did you think you could run from me?" he starts to say, but before he can finish, I take action. Without hesitation, I pepper spray his eyes. He screams in pain, stumbling back. Seizing the opportunity, I rush towards him and tase him in the stomach. He crumples to the floor, writhing in agony.
I don't give him a chance to recover. I keep tasing him, each shock sending jolts of electricity through his body. Eventually, he passes out from the pain and I stop, breathing heavily.
Today has been a hectic day, to say the least. I look down at the unconscious man, feeling a surge of anger and disgust. Searching the apartment, I find some rope and duct tape. I quickly bind his hands and feet, making sure he's securely restrained.
Rummaging through his jacket, I find his wallet.
Pulling out his ID, I read aloud, "Dorian Black, alpha, 27 years old." The name sends a burst of memories through my brain.
Dorian Black is my sponsor. It's no secret that to succeed in the entertainment industry you need to have a sponsor, success often comes with a price here.
Anger boils in me, I kick the unconscious man. Hard. He grunts in pain, I feel no remorse. This guy, Mr Sponsor was behind my abduction,deciding I'm now useless he wanted to sell me to the highest bidder.
He didn't help my career, only kept me like a bird in a cage, dependant on him, he controlled all aspects of life from my friends, gigs, the food I ate. Such a disgusting asshole.
I kick him again.
This guy, Dorian Black, took advantage of naive country bumpkin Ivan. Despite being his sponsor for two years, Ivan barely had any significant deals to show for it.
Dorian isust an obsessive psycho bastard who wanted to control every aspect of Ivan's existence.Now, he wants to throw Ivan away but doesn't want him to be free? Fuck him.
The name is familiar, and it suddenly dawns on me. That's the name of the trash male lead in that omegaverse novel I read on Emily's phone.
So, that makes me the first sponsor who committed suicide because of him? Hell no.
I'm out of here.I was supposed to renew my contract with this bastard's company next week. So I don't have to look for any breach of contract compensation money.