My body is not my body

Day four felt like a tipping point. Something had changed, and Andrew didn't know if it was something inside of him, or if it was something that they had done to him. But something was wrong. Where the injections had felt like molten metal before, they now felt dulled. He'd told Tracey that, half delirious and vomit on his mouth, and her eyes had glowed. She was so excited about it. 

She'd even called Heather in so that the two of them could chat. Now that Andrew was chained up, there wasn't as tight of security on him since there wasn't anything he could do. He was fucking bound, on his knees, with his arms either behind his back or raised by a mechanism he couldn't see. If he threw up, there was a drain in the center of the room and they could easily wash it up. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream, get violent, escape, anything, but the drugs took all of his strength away. He had nothing left inside of him. Whether that was food, or power to get away. 

He had his will, that had not broken. But what could you do when your own fucking body wouldn't respond to you? What outcome could you hope to achieve?

The testing became even more vigorous as time went on. Andrew barely could hold himself up, and they began relying on the second position, the one where he was on his knees and his arms were above his head, because in the other position he would collapse onto his side. 

Heather was getting decidedly done with Andrew's behaviour, while Tracey seemed to be a little more lenient with him. 

Maybe it was because she slept with him? He had no idea. 

All he knew is that he was beginning to feel ill when she was in the room. He only told her at the end of the fourth day when it became unbearable to have her around him. 

Both Heather and Tracey lost their minds. 

They began racing around the small cement room, practically screaming. Andrew didn't know why this was a big deal, and when it was revealed to him, he wanted to throw up. 

"Andrew, I never told you when we were together because it didn't matter since you were a beta, but I'm an omega. That scent you are picking up? Those are my pheromones. We're finally getting somewhere." Andrew couldn't share in their excitement. Andrew was certain he was never going to be able to. All he felt at this announcement was fear, and hatred. 

They were changing him against his will. This was wrong. They were sick, and Andrew hated that he was a part of this. 

Heather noticed his hate-filled glare, and she laughed. 

"Don't worry, Andy, when we're done with you, you'll be nice and obedient for us." She patted him on the face, but it felt more like a slap. He'd never liked Heather. She was cold, yes, but given that she was able to do this to another human, she'd have to be. Or she'd have to be like Tracey, who apparently had more than a few screws loose. Heather's eyes held no light in them. Even Tracey looked like she had life, had spirit, but Heather? 

It looked like she'd never had any to begin with. 

Her eyes were hollow, and her hair was always put back in a no nonsense bun. She honestly reminded him a lot of the lady at the company who hadn't liked him, the higher up who had delivered his sentence. Andrew knew that Heather wasn't her, but they had to be cut from the same cloth. 

He hated it the most when she faked caring about him, like she was right now. She was trying to get Tracey to engage with her, and it had worked. Tracey had come over, stars in her fevered eyes, as Andrew glared at the two women who had put him here. 

"Heather's right, Andy! Soon, you'll be an alpha just like I've always dreamed of, and after that, we can get paired and we'll be together forever." Andrew began to understand the true horror he was about to face. She wanted to keep him. They really weren't planning on killing him. He was too valuable, and if he made it through this, they were going to keep him close. 

Fuck. It would almost be-

Andrew cut his own thought off. No. Such negativity wasn't allowed. He knew that Maxwell was looking for him. He knew that he wouldn't rest until he found him. There was also the chance that they fucked up and Andrew was able to escape. He was not going to let them win. He was going to fight, because his life truly was on the line. 

He was just worried about what kind of monster he'd become in the meantime. 

~

Andrew's body, which he already had a disconnect from since the first round of drugging, well and truly felt foreign to him on the fifth day. 

Something had changed while he had been asleep. His body was sweating, his muscles felt sore. He needed…something, but he wasn't sure what. He felt restless, and for some reason, he was as hard as a rock. 

He felt feverish, and even when they gave him drugs, he had stopped throwing up and reacting as violently. Now, everything felt like it was in a haze. The smell that had bothered him yesterday was more potent, stronger, but it wasn't as affronting as it had been yesterday. 

If yesterday it had been rotten garbage, today it was overripe fruit. Not quite bad, but something was definitely wrong with it. It was something that you should not put in your mouth. He knew that if he told them, they would view it as a positive sign, so he kept it to himself. He wanted to give them nothing else. 

They were already taking so much from him. 

That fifth day he spent in and out of consciousness. He wasn't throwing up as much, but he was incredibly drowsy. Added with the new symptoms, Andrew was incredibly uncomfortable when awake, and actually preferred to be asleep. He didn't have to hear Heather talk. He didn't have to hear Tracey talk. He could just think about being anywhere else, and dream about what he hoped would happen. 

He really wanted Maxwell to storm the place, a dozen bodyguards at hand, no police involved until after Andrew was found safe. He wanted him in one of his nice suits, and for him to be so worried about everything. No, he wanted him to have the same face he always did. If he saw Maxwell with a worried expression, he wasn't sure he would be able to hold it together. 

In all the time that he had known Maxwell, he had never shown a distressed expression to him. He'd been stoic, even when he had been asking for help with a stalker. It didn't sit right that he would be so worried. 

So, no police, Maxwell in one of his suits, his expression…angry. That felt better. Maxwell did have a pretty mean angry expression, and Andrew liked when he swore with his pretty voice. It made him feel warm inside. 

Before Andrew had known what field he was in, which was less than a week ago, Andrew had imagined Maxwell in several different roles. A lawyer suited him quite well. He was composed, and seemed like he would be good in cross examination. He didn't strike him as the type that would avoid going to court, but someone you would try to get when you needed a good lawyer. 

Another option was a high up businessman. Someone who was a Boss, or Manager of some kind. He seemed like he'd have a hard shell, and would come across as cold, until you got to know him. He could totally see Maxwell in those fields. He could also see Maxwell as a scientist as well. Maybe even a doctor. There were a lot of things Andrew could see Maxwell as. 

Maxwell occupied a lot of Andrew's mind as he tried to escape the reality he was in. It became even more true when day six came around. 

Day six saw him getting soaked with cold water over and over again. It was a punishment for not telling the full truth. 

When Heather found out that Andrew had been hiding symptoms from the drugs, she had gone off the deep end. She had raved for a few minutes about how that could have thrown off the program, things could go wrong now, blah blah blah. Andrew didn't care, but Tracey did. Andrew knew that that Heather was just trying to get Tracey all worked up so that Heather could get away with whatever she wanted to do to Andrew. 

And Andrew was right. Heather did get Tracey worked up, and got her to allow Heather the rights to punish Andrew for his transgression. 

So he was stripped and had gallons of cold water poured over him until he was shivering and shaking. His lips were turning blue, he couldn't feel his arms or legs, and his teeth were chattering. 

He had thought that he was going to hate Tracey the most out of the two of them. He had been wrong. Tracey at least had some humanity still left in her. She was viewing this as a project that could be used to benefit others. Heather? 

There wasn't a redeemable bone in her body. 

She was getting pleasure out of this. She enjoyed watching Andrew in pain, throwing up, shivering, cold, abandoned. She liked watching him suffer, and he prayed that whatever she did to him, she had reversed on her ten fold.