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Somehow, he survived his last mission. He’d been so furious when he realized it was a one-way trip and he wasn’t meant to survive. They’d sent him out with no intention of him returning, even though he’d done everything they’d told him to do. He’d been a perfect soldier. He never said no, and gave everything his all, but that was meant to be his last job, his final mission, and then he was going to get the one thing he’d always wanted and never had.
A Dominant.
How many horrible nights and days had he survived just because he had his reward, a Dominant of his own, to look forward to? Belonging to someone. Finally worthy, and when he’d realized there was no surviving that last mission, that it was impossible… well, he’d tried not to let himself think about it.
The timer length of the charges he set was determined by his handlers, which meant they’d known he wasn’t coming back, that it wasn’t long enough for him to escape unless everything went just right.
They’d never meant to honor the bargain they’d made.
That realization was likely the very worst moment of his entire life. And he’s had some pretty awful moments. He’d been a naive idiot, had given everything to his country, and had been fodder just like everyone else.
His hand shook as he’d pressed the button and the timer had started counting down. And he’d emotionally shut down, turned off every emotion, and let determination and adrenaline consume him as he made a futile attempt at survival.
He wouldn’t die without a fight. He was going to belong to a Dominant. That was his life’s mission. Craig had always believed that his Dominant wouldn’t give up on him, so he wouldn’t give up, either. That was the sort of bullshit he’d told himself during every mission he’d been on. The sort of garbage his handlers had parroted back at him once they’d realized how very manageable he was, so long as everything was framed around his reward and pleasing the mythical Dominant they’d never intended to give him to.
At the end, there, when he’d exited the enemy’s base, leaving so many bodies behind him, one hand over his stomach to keep his entrails from spilling out, he hadn’t even wanted to think about his promised Dominant. His mantra of fighting for his future partner because his Dominant would fight for him finally rang hollow. With the end rushing toward him, it had just been too damned sad.
And yet. Here he is. Alive.
Craig tries again to open his eyes, and this time, he’s successful. Everything is different—sleek and quiet. And the technology is unrecognizable. He’s either been captured by the enemy, or a lot of time has passed. Was he put into stasis after returning? His stomach doesn’t hurt. Is he healed?
Is he being reanimated for integration? He can hear someone speaking. English. American accent. So this is the future. His mind makes the connections in an instant.
Lots of soldiers wound up being frozen, promised the chance of being awoken again at some point in the future if the military could fix whatever problems kept them from doing their jobs or functioning properly. He’d gone through a training course, knew it was a possibility, and had been told not to panic if he woke up at some point in the future.
It was all perfectly normal, they said.
Well, now he’s experiencing it, and he can say for a fact that none of it is fucking normal. It turns out that it’s very fucking odd to wake up and know years, maybe decades have passed without him. It’s terrifying. The panic is there.
Did they “fix” him? What has been altered? Is it physical or mental? It’s a terrifying thought. Will he even know what it is?
Craig tentatively clenches his stomach muscles, expecting pain, but feels nothing. His last memory is blood pouring out between his fingers, pain shifting into a creeping numbness that he knew on some fundamental level meant he was going to die soon.
His stomach doesn’t hurt. He’s healed. That’s good, isn’t it? To be alive and whole with another chance at getting what he wants.
A Dominant. He still wants to belong to a man in every way possible, so at least that’s still the same. It’s a relief. He’d heard rumors, before the end, of new experiments that were being done, an attempt to change one’s designation, and he’d feared they’d do that to him. But they haven’t.
Thank god.
Anything else he can handle. His core desire is the same. Doesn’t that mean he is, too?
A doctor appears beside him. “Alert Commander Flak,” he says and stares down at Craig. “Do you know who you are?”
“Specialist Craig Richards, S class” he responds, voice raspy, and recites his serial number. The doctor nods.
“I'm Doctor Beck. What’s the last thing you remember? And the date?”
He coughs because his throat is dry. Then they help him sit up and give him some ice to suck on. He’s so thirsty. He manages to answer the question, and Dr. Beck tells him he’s been missing for years. They found him in stasis, still injured. They operated on him, let him heal, and now he’s safe.
Craig can’t get past the initial statement. He’s been missing and presumed dead for decades.
“Have I been further altered?”
“No. You’re exactly the same as you were when you disappeared all those years ago. No further changes will be made to your body or DNA without your express approval.”
“Am I… what will happen to me now?” He wants to ask about his cycle. He isn’t wearing the cage and is already beginning to get hard. The urge to touch himself is growing. The cage took care of that. “I think I’m close to my cycle,” Craig confesses, scared to admit it.
He’s terrified he’s going to be denied again. But they promised him he’d get a Dominant as soon as the mission was over, and by god, he’s going to ask for his reward.
