28. Chained To The Rhythm.

Mr Sark followed behind as his team took the target inside. He was a scientist with no morals about right and wrong. By law, this creature on a stretcher was an animal and fair game for him and his team. He had been part of the team of building this creature and now he wanted to see what it had become. He wanted to study, to cure people, especially those who paid him.

The world was full of desperate, rich, sick people who had become ill either through their own lifestyles or just bad luck. These people were used to buying everything, whether it was a new villa, a car, or even love and companionship, or popularity, so they had no problem paying for their health or their cure. 

These were Mr. Sark's clients, and he tried to investigate all kinds of freaks to get help for those who paid for it. His own pharmaceutical company made many of the drugs on the market. Still, some medications like erectile dysfunction and blood pressure drugs were not as cheap and fast to make, and the drug laws and regulations regulated the prices, so their profits weren't always as high as they could have been.

But about five years ago, Mr. Sark had started testing different enzymes that made the drug faster and less expensive to make, but they could keep their prices, the cost of making the drug would drop, and their profits on these drugs would go up. These enzymes were found in the freaks, and here's the next target: the best way was to irritate the target's liver; platinum was the most effective metal for that job. 

They would start by collecting and researching enzymes and then experiment with new anesthetics. Mr. Sark wanted to see how the different anesthetics would be metabolized and what metabolites they would produce.

He'd heard that this freak was breaking down substances in a whole new way, and so he was prepared to pay a lot to get his hands on this. Sark had many subordinates and trusted people who shared his outlook on life and his way of doing things, who also saw the freaks as animals and mere targets. 

Blue Sleep would be a bestseller once he could study its effects and then keep the side effects to a minimum and make it the perfect anesthetic to put you into a kind of hibernation. It slowed the heart rate, lowered body temperature and blood sugar, and put the subjects in a coma, but when the subjects didn't wake up or were so panicked and confused that it was useless when their minds were so completely broken.

 But this freak could be stronger, at least from what data results Sark had retrieved. This was a unique target, and Sark had found no information on who this had been originally; he knew that one of his professors, Dr. Morrissey, had been connected to the target, but Dr. Morrissey had disappeared well over two, and a half years ago at least. He had been part of retrovirus group but he had had very specific role. Dr Morrisey had given very little information about this one. He had mainly worked with samples and done procedures while subject had been on that ship. She had changed little.

 Mr. Sark was a blond, medium-height, thin man with dark brown dead eyes. Emotionless with the look of a scientist and no need for family or a social life, his work was his life. He observed and watched from the sidelines as his subordinates worked quickly and efficiently.

The team quickly undressed the subject and began taking tissue samples. The subject was thin and frail-looking, and her ribs were clearly visible. This was barely recognizable as a female. Her non-existent small breasts were almost the only sign of her adulthood. Her legs were thin, her hips narrow, and like most supernaturals, the only hairs were on her head.

This was completely hairless, which also added to the childlike impression as Mr Sark walked around the table and looked at the subject. Mr sark thought for a moment, remembered what Salvatore had said, and then gave the order to his team. Subject was in better health than it had been on ship.

Mr Sark said: " Let now also include the reproductive and genital organs in the examination. The subject is not a virgin but hasn't been through the heat. Let's see what we find."

Another team waited their turn and began collecting a particular enzyme from the subject's liver. They took several test pieces, and when the rapid test showed an even stronger enzyme than the others, they prepared to put platinum in the subject's liver to make it irritated and produce more enzymes. It was worth its weight in gold. With it, they could make drugs cheaply and still get people to pay for them, leaving them with a bigger profit.

They didn't tell the authorities, whoever regulated the prices of the drugs, that they could actually make them cheaper than they had stated; no, they kept the profits, and Sark always used them to make new facilities.

The subject was kept asleep, and after only 48 hours, the enzyme started to build up more, and they started to collect it. The subject was photographed, scanned, and the subject was opened up, dissected, and examined; biopsies and samples were taken from all sides, and different substances and drugs were tested on the tissues and organs of the subject.

Everyone saw this woman as just the subject, and her body was examined. The fact that you had to keep a subject alive all the time was almost annoying, but this was an excellent subject because she was healing so well, and you could do everything for her.

The researchers were thrilled. It had been a week. They had taken tissue samples from all over and noticed increased hormone levels, including new hormones that hadn't been in previous experiments.

The subject was approaching sexual maturity. Apparently, the sex act had activated this part of the subject's body, and now they would be able to try to get it to procreate and see how it would even reproduce.

Mr. Sark was pleased that the blue dream kept the subject asleep, and the only drawback was the uncontrollable blood sugar crash, but that was not a hindrance. Mr Sark speculated it might even have been the subject's own body's reaction. Typically, blue sleep kept blood sugar low all the time, but the subject's sugars dropped so low they couldn't be measured, and the subject had to be given a bolus of sugar solution to help the enzymes work.

I woke up. I didn't know how many times I had already done this. I was confused. Damon had sold me out, my liver was hurting so bad it was on fire, and now and then, I'd be awake when the scientists would come in and open up the cannulas that were attached to my liver, attach some kind of collection bags and I'd feel some liquid pouring out of me.

Mimosa was lying on my head, slumped over; she couldn't move. I could see her breathing, but she was weak; Mirella's coffin was closed, and I couldn't wake her up either. I could smell the vervain, knowing it kept my vampire side down.

That satanic blue drug felt like ice in my veins before it took my consciousness and my sanity slowly. Hopelessness, sheer panic, and even horror or fear started to creep into my mind when I was awake, but I couldn't stay awake for long. I woke up now and then, and I was cold. I was in pain; I was confused, and I didn't know where I was.

 I remembered how Damon had signed a piece of paper that allowed him to do this to me. Adam wouldn't suspect a thing. I was betrayed; I was abandoned; I was alone; I had to escape, and the time I was always conscious of was running out. I was running out of strength, and I was losing consciousness.

My liver was in white-hot agony, and the drip lines, the shackles, the smells of the hospital or the institution, and the sounds were getting me deeper and deeper into a state in which I couldn't function yet. I was paralyzed by this betrayal, by this pain, and now I couldn't even think about revenge.

Adam was amazed. Why would Mimi immediately go on another killing spree? He had been thinking about the three weeks Mimi had been gone. Mimi was supposed to take a vacation and recuperate; he had plans to do that night again, maybe seduce her in the sauna, but no.

He wondered about her strange message. It wasn't her normal message. Mimi used a different language and never kept the phone off, just silent, and something was very wrong now. Salvatore hadn't come home. The house in Chicago was empty when Adam arrived. There was no sign of either of them, and Damon still didn't answer the phone or his call through the pack bond.

The werewolf crisis had taken time to try to sort things out. All parties were blaming each other, and it took a while before Adam found evidence that the whole thing was a frame-up. But who and why? How did he get the feeling that Damon was behind it?

But then he thought, turned things over, and finally called Bran. Bran convinced him that Damon wasn't guilty as he listed several werewolves who could have been behind this and got Adam to calm down.

Adam then stopped wondering as these werewolves had enemies; Bran had been right, and any of them could have been behind the trick.

Adam was already looking for more people to kill, and then he ran into Thomas Magnum. Or just Magnum, as he was called. But he explained to Magnum what had happened and how Mimi had disappeared, he told him about Damon's trick, he also told him how he and Mimi had been fucking all night when Mimi had seduced him and now that Damon was jealous...

He told of the werewolf crisis, his own suspicions, and Bran's assurances that it was the other packs. Not Damon. But Magnum wasn't convinced. He had instinct and experience, and something in that story of Adam made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Adam could see that he would probably have been useful. Adam gave Magnum the list of gigs that Bran had compiled and sent to Reddington Magnum's contact details. Then Adam called Reddington himself and asked about Mimi's killing spree.

Reddington was equally baffled because Mimi hadn't asked him for a job.

Something about the case bothered Adam, and Reddington remarked, "Do you want me to do a bit of my investigation? Mimi hasn't asked me for anything, and I feel there's something fishy about it; I've had enough experience that there's something strange about it, but I can make inquiries and have my people look into it if you like," Reddington inquired politely.

He was always polite, discreet, and polished. It was hard to believe he was a big crime boss.

Adam said: "Yeah, all the help I need, and if only I'd taken Mimi with me or told her the truth, but when I said I was just going to do a consultation, I didn't say I was going to prevent a pack war. Let me know if you find anything. I'll also let you know if anything happens. By the way, I know about the prophecies, but Mimi has said nothing about them yet, could you?.."

Reddington replied, "I'll send you a translation for you one day, but I'll start investigating now what on earth has happened to Mimi." 

Adam listed Mimi's phone number in case Reddington could find Mimi's phone records and perhaps locate her phone. Adam knew he couldn't officially request it without a good reason. He had military contacts and some in the FBI, but he wouldn't involve people in this until he had some leads on where to go with it.

Mr. Sark was pleased with the results. They had now had the subject for a month, and their unique hormone therapy was working. They had based it on werewolf hormones, made strong doses of them, and it worked.

The mystery hormones grew steadily, and the uterine tissue samples looked promising. Even the ovaries showed clear ovarian follicles. All Mr Sark needed now was a second partner. Evidently, the target had several eggs forming, which would make a litter, not just one offspring.

But Mr. Sark wasn't looking for offspring; he wanted stem cells, and the plan was to fertilize the target, let the embryos grow for a while, and then take them out and look for stem cells. But a sperm donor was needed.

He thought about it for a while. He knew that once a greedy man, always a greedy man. And he had money.

He opened the intercom and said. "Contact this Salvatore and ask him if he'd like to make 50-150 grand."

He had money, enzymes made him quite rich, and he had gotten many financiers on his facilities, besides this was investment. 

Somebody on the other end said, "Sure thing, boss. I'll let you know right away."

 Mr. Sark started putting things in order when it became apparent that Salvatore was willing to do his part. He knew Salvatore's reputation, and this shouldn't even be a hard thing for him to do.

First, they had to make sure Salvatore was up to the job. Mr. Sark put the necessary tests in place when Salvatore was ready and coming to do the job for which he was well paid.

I woke up or came to once again in a white room, my legs and arms tied to the bed. I was weakened, tired, confused, drugged, and pretty fucking desperate but still unable to function. Everything in the room was white, even the floor, and there were no windows but one big mirror. I could see myself in the mirror hazily while I was still really drugged.

I felt strange. My lower abdomen ached, and my pussy felt swollen, but I wasn't aroused at all. I was naked as hell, and I didn't know where I was. Panic set in. I tore and tried to pull my wrists through the shackles; the shackles wouldn't come off, and my wrists were all bloody as the spikes of the shackles bit deeper.

Blood trickled down my arms. I was in spiked shackles, drugged and helpless, and powerless to do anything. Oh, I hated the way I felt, but something kept me so paralyzed I couldn't get a grip on my rage.

Damon looked emotionlessly at the other side of the mirror and waited. Mimi was lying in chains, her wrists bleeding, and he was glad to see it. He was ready to do this. The money was too good. Even if he wasn't so keen on this job, it was good to be in control and enjoy; he would still get pleasure out of this, be able to be in control for longer, and enjoy.

Mr Sark came. "Congratulations, you have wonderful swimmers. Are you ready? The sample was of excellent quality, and the target was ready. That should be enough if you can give us a few doses."

Damon looked at Mimi for a moment. "Yes, I'm ready, and I can get a few doses right on target," he said.

His expression was like Sarks, emotionless, cold, and clinical, but with a sense of malice in it. Sark noticed it only clinically and wondered for a moment why. Salvatore could be an interesting target, too. 

Mr. Sark came closer." I know you may run out of enthusiasm, but I'll give you this shot. It's painless, goes in the vein, ensures you can perform, increases sperm count, and gives them vitality. You are guaranteed to get the job done. A kind of super Viagra. This is my drug factory medicine, and in fact, the enzymes in the subject help me make the medicine cheaper. "

Damon nodded and held out his hand. The injection was painless. Now, he would have to wait half an hour before he went to impregnate Mimi. He even wanted this.

Deep inside Damon's head, a desperate voice cursed and screamed. "No, you won't do it to Mimi. I have to save Mimi."

He felt a rush of triumph as he pushed the voice deeper, manipulating it anyway, but he was in control now.

Damon watched the still-writhing woman for a moment, feeling his erection start to grow, his balls beginning to feel pressure, and neither sensation was giving him any pleasure. Completely, Good would not remember this unless he allowed it. This would be an excellent weapon for him to regain more power.

The examiner entered the room, pressed the ultrasound probe to my lower abdomen, and watched for a moment. This was another insensitive, to whom I was not a person but an object, and these bastards are slowly starting to annoy me.

Then he nodded, looked in the mirror, and said: "Ovulation has occurred, and perhaps a dozen eggs are about to be released. The target is ready for fertilization."

I thought I didn't want kids. No, no, no, I haven't even had a heat. I tried to get a word out of my mouth, but somehow my mouth was so fucking dry I couldn't get a word in. The examiner walked up to my feet, first shoved some kind of thick tube into my pussy, and squeezed the contents all the way into my pussy.

Then, the examiner left the room. Without saying a word, I hadn't thought there were so many people like this before. Still, if there were dozens and dozens of them in this institution, there were dozens and dozens of fucking emotionless robots who didn't care about human life.

Sark said to Damon: "The substance intensifies and facilitates the sperm. It also lubricates. Wait another ten minutes. It will moisten and open her cervix entirely so you can get your load in once and for all. "

Ten minutes later, Damon felt his balls about to crack. He was so ready. He stripped naked, and the door opened. Sark remained watching as clinically as before. He saw the subject tied to the bed, legs spread, pussy exposed so that she would be easily impregnated. He had heard a reputation of a Salvatore with women, but he was not in the mood now. Sark watched as Salvatore entered the room naked. Showtime.

Damon smiled cruelly as he entered the room. "Hey baby, did you miss me? Have you been a good girl? I told you, you're going to sleep most of the time but now let's make babies baby, you're going to be a mother. "

Damon's voice was still emotionless, and the wet dog stank. And he was like a robot. I could see he was fully erect, but he didn't smell of passionfruit now, not at all. 

He enjoyed the feeling of power. The invincible was now weak, a victim. This feeling of having power over her was something that gave her pleasure, and he knew that this pleasure would be his greatest weapon against Good. When he manipulated Good to feel this pleasure when he was up to his tricks, Good would suffer, blame himself, and his grip would weaken; the love between the two would fade, and he would finally have complete power. He climbed onto the bed and positioned himself on top of her, pushing down to the bottom with one hard thrust. Her pussy was tight, but there was no physical pleasure for him, it was as if Good had taken all the pleasure of sex for himself, and he was left with nothing but a feeling of power, a feeling of taking advantage of women. Maybe if he could merge someday with good, take him part of himself so he could feel too.

"This can't be happening. What the fuck is going on?" I thought in desperation.

I watched Damon walk completely naked into the room with a cock the size of a huge one and ask a question. He was saying how I was going to be a mother. The drugs were messing with my head and keeping me half-panicked. He smelled like a wet dog again.

Then he came on top of me and pushed himself inside me. He was like a robot and I felt like I was about to burst. My pussy was slick, but as I didn't want this, my body wasn't prepared for this at all.

He moved quickly and efficiently, and I felt nothing. He fucked me, but there was nothing but pain and stretching in my pussy. He didn't kiss me. He was on his knees between my legs, holding my hips and fucking me. Soon, he hit his bottom and groaned.

I felt him come right into my womb. And he just kept going and going and going. He came inside me 25 times, each time straight to the base. I felt a hot, hard jet sink into my womb, but this was not a bump; this was semen, and there was much less of it than a bump. Then he left without a word. His dick had sagged and looked very small. Somehow, I hadn't seen it so small.

Soon after Damon left, the scientists arrived. They did another ultrasound and were satisfied.

They didn't talk much but said, "All the eggs are out, and it looks like she is already making new ones. Fertilization seems certain. Sperm coverage is 80% in the uterus. "

Then, they took my leg out of the shackles and injected another blue substance into the cannula. The cold hit my veins and made me shiver. It didn't knock me out immediately, but it pulled me down somehow and made me feel so fucking helpless.

Before I fell asleep, I wondered, before I blacked out completely, what it was going to be like being pregnant now that they don't care about me, whether I was going to be here for months. What's the duration of my pregnancy, anyway? Then, the medicine knocked me out entirely again.

Mr Sark was pleased. The insemination went better than expected, and the donation from Salvatore was excellent. He had given ten more doses after the breeding if it was ever needed.

Mr Sark wanted the embryo and stem cells. Not babies. None of the fertilized eggs were supposed to develop beyond 4-6 weeks so that he would get as many stem cells as possible. The gestation period could typically be anything from two months to four, and they would watch the embryo develop up to a certain point and then abort all of them.

Sark was happy with the project; he was collecting enzymes from the subject, but now it had been stopped so that the pregnancy would not be disrupted, and the subject's liver had been removed. The subject was growing a new liver; this was indeed a treasure trove, and this was so unique that Sark knew it would be years before he understood the subject properly and could use this for the benefit of humanity.

I woke up occasionally panicked, cold and confused. Drugged and tied up. Helpless and unable to function, I couldn't really even make out my surroundings as panic and weakness prevented me from concentrating. The pain in my liver was gone, and someone said my liver had been taken out, and I had grown a new one.

All I heard was the researchers talking as they ultrasound my abdomen to find 18 embryos, 18 babies. I had 18 embryos growing inside me. I didn't know whether to cry or laugh. How big would I grow? Could I even breed that many babies? How would they be born, as children, as wolves or as monsters? 

I was only awake for a moment because, for some reason, my panic and struggles always made me expend my energy, so eventually, I lost consciousness.

I often had a little bag of something dripping when I woke up. I don't know what they took away, but when I tried to tear myself away, tried to twist and turn my wrists, my energy ran out, and the cold, the weakness, and the darkness took me over again. Pregnant.