Finally a breakthrough and yet- all has gone to hell.
I can't catch a break these days.
And I am surrounded by morons nonetheless.
I'm a calculated man—or I used to be, before Luther threw my schedule to hell.
The plan was simple:
Get Luther in the other wing while rebuilding the one he burned down in his little tantrum.
Prepare the lab at home so I can finally start working on his flower.
Get Killian to keep an eye on Luther so he doesn't rebel yet again
And yet Luther had a chemical reaction to the gas I use for disposal of the weeds.
So I sent Killian there—well, in the next room—to keep him company. It's the same situation as getting your pet an emotional support pet.
But everyone is either horny, stupid or both around me, because the nutjob started to have vent sex while poor Luther barely held to the conversation.
Now, in Akna's defense, Luther was-
Arousing.
Imagine my surprise when I raise my head from the work paper at my desk and look at the monitors to see Luther passed out, bubbling at the mouth and his flower withering.
I may be a God, but I can't be anywhere at once.
So here I am. My wife cut open. On a steel table. In a lab that barely qualifies as sterile.
And yet, the fear of him getting infected by the nonsterile surroundings was the least of my worries.
I am about to lose the very essence of my power.
If Luther's flower withers and dies, I'm done for.
All my plans ruined.
The future I was about to build.
Everything.
Destroyed.
That flower is the essence of both Luther being an omega and the poison in his blood. And I need that poison to change the world.
Society as it is now is built on nothing but borderline enslavement of omegas.
If you were born a weed, you are viewed as a convenience for alphas. You are for them to use and discard as they please and you're as respected as a gum stuck to a shoe. An annoyance the second you dare to ask for basic dignity.
If you were born toxic, you're nothing but a freak. A prude.
" The least you could do is to be accessible" is what society tells you. "How dare you use pheromones against alphas? After being born half a man, you dare to be loud and disobedient?"
I need to fix it.
Nobody will if I don't.
I waited for change.
Nothing ever happens.
It wasn't until I burned down the very institution that made me what I am that I finally understood that the God I kept waiting on was me.
Luther's vitals are spiking. The flower is losing its vim.
I feel my hands shaking. I need to steady my heart. Just a second. One breath. That's all it takes.
It's fine.
I can fix it.
I always fix it. I don't allow him to die.
To transform.
Luther is my fucking omega.
Mine to use. Mine to own. Mine to decide whether he lives or dies.
I injected him with a stabilizer. I upped the quantity of alpha pheromones he inhaled. I put in an IV.
I think it's the sixth one.
But it worked. His breath got steady. His heartbeat normalized
I got him back.
Not that I had any doubt-
I never do.
Even when my hands were shaking. Even when I couldn't feel my heart beating through the noise.
He blinked. And for a moment—I forgot to breathe. Pathetic. Snap out of it.
I hope he didn't see it. He couldn't, could he?
He was just so- beautiful.
Scared, shocked, vulnerable.
I don't think I've ever witnessed something so-
I need to concentrate.
This is more to this than chemical attraction. This is about the future of society, the very essence of its structure.
"You're up"
Unfortunate choice of words.
"I know it's a bit different from our usual marital life, but I'm sure you'll find in your heart to forgive me."
I need to regain my composure.
Just keep talking. The logic will settle slowly if the conversation will flow.
The attraction will pass.
And the flower will regain its vitality.
And my plan will succeed
He's mad.
I noticed in the week we lived together. He has the habit of scrunching his brows when he gets annoyed or mad.
How- endearing.
" You're really charming when you get mad, dear wifey, but let me explain why you're in this situation. Your flower is about to shrivel up and die. And that's no good."
As I expected, he seemed confused.
Confused is good. It's how I want to keep it. Ready to trust whatever I say. With his barriers down, malleable.
Shapeable after my needs.
"Don't look so confused. I must admit that I tampered a bit with it. I gave you some alpha pheromones to stabilize it and some tranquilizers so you can stand the pain. Seems like I've grown attached to you, huh?"
That's right.
Be scared, dear Luther.
Be aware that you are in my hands.
"Luther"
I hate using this tone of voice.
The velvety tone, almost caressing - feels rather slimy on my lips.
Yet it is effective.
Luther looks heartbroken.
Oh, how well I trained him. Wise owner, good pet. Isn't that how it goes?
Now- let's give him a presentation.
"You have no idea how special you are, do you?"
Such an arrogant look on his face.
Tempting.
Breakable.
" Did your parents tell you a bit about your flower?"
Shatter the trust in your parents.
Good.
"Your flower is an extremely rare belladonna- an Atropa baetica. A wild type."
Oh, don't look bored on me now.
I'm just getting started.
"Don't roll your eyes. I need to monitor your state. I might inject too much substance if you play around this much"
Oh, you're afraid.
Such loud emotions.
So -distracting.
"How could you be so loud and interruptive even gagged?!"
Proud of yourself, aren't you, my dearest wife?
"Let me finish. You need to know this. I'm already making your father my enemy. This will break your bond forever."
A crumb of information.
Just enough to make you hungry for more.
I know how starved you are for your father's validation.
You shouldn't display your weaknesses so lightly.
It just makes me wanna use them.
"Your flower makes your blood poisonous. And infectious. You see, if I were to mix your blood with the blood of a weed omega, the omega would instantly become toxic. High toxicity too. If he survives, of course. After all, the poison will replace the blood in his system and not all bodies can handle that."
He is not paying attention.
Huh. It certainly makes me a bit angry.
After all, I am trying to make the facts clear enough even for a dense pet like you to understand.
"The same drop of your blood can instantly kill any alpha if ingested or contacted with an open wound."
An eyebrow raised.
Skeptical?
Oh, you must be thinking that it doesn't work on me.
Well, I guess a few facts about me could build trust. Or pity.
I could benefit from either.
With enough, we might even live together again. A God and his holiness source.
Now, the question remains: just how much should I let you know? My childhood? My rising? My plans? Our future?
This would have been so much easier if I had just barely kept you alive with the machines.
Clean with no feelings.
But yet again, what life would I have led without such a fierce wife to entertain me?