A Way Through Darkness

Author's Note:

Hello! This one's a few years old, but I decided it was time to put it up here. I just want to set a couple of expectations before it begins. Suicidality is a through-line in this story. It came from a pretty dark place emotionally, but I'm doing a lot better these days. It's a slow-burn, and it was originally published as a novella. I think it works well as a self-contained story, but I do have about half of a second part sitting unfinished in my documents folder. If you'd like to see more from this character, let me know!

All characters depicted are over the age of 18.

--

Chapter 1 - The Doctor

"When was the last time you seriously thought about killing yourself?" asked the medical assistant distantly, her tone utterly incongruous with both the nature of the question and the implicit assumption it held.

"Last Thursd- no, uhm, yesterday, actually," Felicity responded, unphased by the callous questionnaire. She had long since become used to this sort of thing. That didn't mean it wasn't painful, of course, but damned if she was going to let this drone see her pain.

The assistant scratched down the answer on her clipboard and continued in the same disinterested tone, "How many times per week do you think about killing yourself?"

"Four, I'd say. Usually. Unless it's summer, in which case at least seven," Felicity said, formulating an answer that would deliberately befuddle the idiot piece of paper that some doctor had decided was worth putting patients through ceaseless indignity.

"Five," The assistant regurgitated with no emotion, having been apparently trained to completely ignore suicidal people's agency as a form of treatment.

"Thank you for your answers," she said with the enthusiasm of a DMV clerk. "The doctor will be with you in a moment."

The assistant did not even look at Felicity as she left the room with haste. Felicity knew that she was a lot to handle, that it was almost impossible to get anyone to even listen to her feelings, let alone understand them. It would have been nice if the people that were supposed to be helping her didn't treat her like a pariah.

And they wondered why she was suicidal.

Frankly, she was running out of reasons not to do it. She felt the void of her pain and darkness staring into her, threatening to swallow her whole, from the moment she woke up in the morning to the moment she finally slipped into the momentary relief of unconsciousness. The medications they had given her made her feel wrong. Like a different person was taking over residence in her skin. Therapy was next to useless. No councilor could fix any of the things that made her life so fucked up, and seeing as how it was still fucked up, trying to recover from it as if it were a thing of the past was an exercise in futility.

An existential dread had been creeping over Felicity for quite a while now. This dread consisted of the knowledge that the reasons her life was so miserable were structural, systemic, and unable to be changed. At first, she thought this was just an irrational self-pity trying to trick her into an even darker depression. But as time went on, she began to wonder if this was the rational assessment of her life. The fact that no doctor or psychologist seemed willing to contradict this dread was the most alarming part of it all.

The fact that nobody, including herself, wanted to face, was that suicide might be a rational response to her life and environment, and no one had yet presented her with a reason to confidently believe otherwise.

Felicity was a sane person destined to be treated as if she were crazy. And she often wondered if the treatment had worked.

The doctor entered the room and silently nodded at her in greeting. He sat down on his stool and took a deep breath before addressing her. Felicity braced herself for the inevitable indignities of this conversation and plastered a forced smile onto her lips. She had to suffer through whatever torments this man could throw at her and provide whichever responses he needed to consent to giving her what she needed. This was the essence of medical practice, in her experience, and this conversation was going to be even more so.

"I understand you're requesting a referral to the Personhood Eradication Treatment program," he spoke.

"The PET program, yes," she said casually.

"May I ask why?" he asked, confusion and incredulity spreading over his face.

"Have you read my chart?" she said, raising an eyebrow at him and forcing herself to keep a lid on the snark she felt.

"Yes, I--" he trailed off, looking down at the floor. "I just don't understand why a person would voluntarily submit themselves to this."

"I don't expect you to understand, doctor. I'm just asking that you respect my agency to make the choice," she said, as un-defensively as she could manage.

"Well, I..." he looked back at her finally. "I want to respect your choice, Felicity, but this is a very extreme step, and I will feel some degree of responsibility for referring you to it. I want to know why, or I'm afraid I cannot help you."

She looked at him for a long time, teetering between the defiance she felt and her desire to get what she wanted. "Frankly, doctor, I don't know that you have the capacity to understand my choice," she knew she should not have said that part, but it was a compromise with the raging defiance in her heart.

"But I will try and explain. Just remember that you're forcing me to tell you this, and I suspect you will regret it by the time I'm done," she warned, not wanting to feel any kind of guilt for unleashing her darkness upon another person, no matter how patronizingly she was being treated.

"I'm running out of reasons not to kill myself. I've been through every treatment there is, and truthfully, it has only ever made things worse. The unvarnished truth that nobody wants to admit, including myself, is that my life is factually unbearable, and that any reasonable person in my situation would be contemplating killing themselves. I understand this is a position that does not fit within the rules of society, and for that I am cast out into the street to deal with it on my own."

She paused, giving him a moment for all of that to sink in. "The fact is, human beings are not supposed to live with this much misery, and our country is so fucked up and dysfunctional, biased toward human misery, that there is no viable way out for me. I am trapped by the trauma of my past and present, and there exists no ladder to get me out of that. Myself, my personhood, has become the cruelest and most effective tool for society to inflict further pain on me- trapped in this hell, aware of it, and completely helpless to escape. You cannot help me with that. Medicine and psychology cannot help me with that. Nobody can help me with that."

"So, when I read about the PET program, it felt as if somebody had finally invented an answer for my problems that works within the context of this fucked up, shithole of a world we live in. Do I wish there were another answer? Yes. But I've already tried them all, and I have decided that submitting myself to the program is better than killing myself. I think there's a good chance that becoming something lesser and having the security of being taken care of and comforted, would be far more pleasant than my life experience currently. And frankly, my dignity is nothing but a constant source of torment, so having the entire concept eradicated from my consciousness sounds very appealing," she finished.

He looked at her intently for a long time before responding. "You do understand that this program was developed specifically to deal with the most violent and dangerous criminals? The creators pitched it as a more humane alternative to execution, and frankly I'm not sure I agree," he said.

"Yes, I understand that. And I agree it would be incredibly cruel to subject a person to this treatment against their will. But that is not the case here," she said simply. "And isn't there a long precedent of treatments being found to be effective for radically different purposes than they were originally developed for?"

"Yes, but this is not some cancer pill that happens to treat depression, it is an irreversible, profound transformation of the very core of you as a person," he said.

"I understand the implications, doctor. Wouldn't you agree that I've already tried everything medicine has to offer?" She asked.

"Yes, but-"

She cut him off, "Then I'm just informing you, not as a threat or an attempt at manipulation, that if I am not referred to this program, I will be dead by next week," she said dispassionately, simply stating a matter of fact.

"Goddamnit," he signed in frustration, pinching his nose with his thumb and middle fingers. "I don't want your blood on my hands, Felicity, but neither will I feel responsible for what they're going to do to you once I sign this piece of paper," he paused, staring into her eyes defiantly. Her heart began to race at the words. He was going to do it.

"So, I'm going to read you every single disclaimer they have in here, and there is a lot. And you are going to specifically consent to be subjected to every single one of them. Understand?"

She nodded at him. "Once I have read you all of this, and you have provided your consent, I will sign this referral and my hands will be washed of what happens to you next. Do you agree?" He asked, pleading in his eyes with the guilt he seemed to feel for being put in this position.

"Yes," she said, bracing herself for the final onslaught.

"Very well, let's get this over with," he said, pulling out the packet of papers that contained the program referral.

"The PET program consists of drastic modifications to the patient's brain structure and chemistry and results in an irreversible change to the patient's self-perception. Do you understand and consent to this?"

"Yes."

"The purpose of the PET program is to alter the personality and disposition of the patient. The patient will likely not remember who they were prior to treatment and will be unrecognizable to friends or family. Do you understand and consent to this?"

"Yes."

"The publicly available sector of the PET program's treatment is extremely expensive, and as such each patient will be sponsored by a donor. The patient will have the opportunity to select from a pool of donors and will be given detailed information about the donor's psychological profile as well as a description of what the donor intends to do with the subject after treatment. Following treatment, the patient will be permanently remanded into the custody of the donor, and the donor will assume all future responsibilities for the care of the patient. Do you understand and consent to this?"

"Yes."

"Due to the nature of the changes to the patient's self-perception, consent to any meaningful standard will become impossible for the patient. As such, the patient must understand that by consenting to undertake treatment, they are issuing permanent, irrevocable, and blanket consent to their donor. This consent includes, but is not limited to, the consent for sexual relations, the consent to modify the patient's body, the consent to submit to arbitrary rules, and the consent to surrender any and all agency over the patient's future, care, and bodily autonomy. Do you understand and consent to this?"

"Yes."

"Jesus Christ, Felicity. Really? You do understand what these people are going to do to you, right?"

"Yes," she answers him, as if he had not even gone off script.

He shook his head in befuddlement. She was right. He did not have the capacity to understand.

"One of the results of treatment will be a deeply ingrained instinct to obey any commands issued to the patient by the donor. Do you understand and consent to this?"

"Yes."

"One of the results of treatment will be a re-orientation of the pleasure centers of the patient's brain, resulting in feelings of euphoria when the patient perceives their donor's happiness or approval. Do you understand and consent to this?"

"Yes."

"One of the results of treatment will be a structural modification to the patient's brain, severely reducing the patient's capacity for abstract thought and higher reasoning. This will likely render the patient unable to function in the world without the guidance and care of their donor. Do you understand and consent to this?"

"Yes."

"Finally, by consenting to undergo this treatment, the patient agrees to hold the PET program or any of its subsidiaries harmless for any type of abuse suffered because of treatment. The PET program understands that patients will be left extremely vulnerable and dependent on their donor for the duration of their lives, and as such the program extensively screens donors for psychopathy and sadism. However, no screening program is perfect, and the patient assumes sole responsibility for their final and permanent choice in donor. Do you understand and consent to this?"

"Yes," her voice finally broke a little bit. This part was obviously the biggest and most terrifying aspect of the entire proposition. But she had faith in her ability to select someone who would treat her well.

The doctor looked at her for a while before saying anything else. "Felicity, I want you to know that I am signing this paper under protest, and that my advice to you as a physician is to stay as far away from these people as possible. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she said, finally beginning to cry in earnest, not because of the choice she was making, but because she felt so utterly alone in making it.

"After everything that I have told you, do you understand the implications and risks of this treatment, and do you still wish to proceed?"

She pulled herself together, wiped the tears from her eyes, and looked back at the man sitting in front of her.

"Yes," she said confidently, with a sense of finality.

She heard his pen scratching a signature across a page. He closed the packet he had been reading from, removed it from his clipboard, and handed it to her.

As her fingers closed around the papers, a feeling of euphoria came over her. Finally. She had finally made them listen.

"I genuinely hope you find some relief, Felicity," the doctor said, standing up. "Good luck."

And with that, he walked out of the room, leaving her alone to savor the small victory she had been fighting so hard for.

--

Chapter 2 - The Beginning of an End

All the arrangements were made. All her belongings were packed up or disposed of. Her landlord had been informed of her vacating the premises. She had notified her employer of her immediate resignation. She had a small backpack with a few changes of clothes and personal items, and she was coming to terms with the fact that this backpack now contained all her remaining possessions. When she walked outside her door for the last time, she felt a sense of freedom that she had not experienced in years.

A short bus ride was all that stood between her and the new life she had chosen to begin. This person that she was, that had run out of energy to cope with the darkness of the world, would soon be dead, and a new, happier, simpler person who looked just like her would be brought into the world. She didn't expect anyone to understand, but when your life is filled with nothing but miserable choices, having your choice taken away was very appealing.

But this old Felicity had one last choice to make. To walk in the doors of the PET facility, sign all their papers, and begin her treatment. Oh, and just the small matter of selecting her 'donor'.

What a profound corporate euphemism that was. Master or God would be more appropriate. She had to choose a person to whom to subsume her will for the rest of her life. How do you make that kind of choice? Would she get to meet them first? Would she even want to? Should she choose a man or a woman?

How do you even make that kind of choice?

Instinct was the best answer she could come up with. Pick the person that feels right. No amount of analyzing the available information was going to make this choice make sense.

A man, she supposed, would be the better choice. She imagined her new, simpler self would likely be spending a lot of time having sex with this person, and she did rather enjoy having sex with men. She could see how, if much of her brain were turned off, and her brain was wired with reward for pleasing this person, that she could have quite an enjoyable life just being used as a sex object by her new master. It was a humiliating thought, but what did that matter if humiliation became impossible? Perhaps life would be better if humiliation became impossible.

Men usually had simpler desires as well. They wanted to fuck you or tell you how they feel. Maybe they wanted to feel power over you. All these things should be simple for her new self to fulfill. And the thing she craved more than anything else was simplicity.

She found herself at the front desk of the PET facility, looking at an unnervingly beautiful receptionist.

"Do you have an appointment?" She asked.

"Yes, my name is Felicity Sloan, and I am scheduled to begin treatment here today," Felicity said with a confidence she did not feel.

"Very well, Miss Sloan, do you have all your paperwork?" She asked.

"Yes, it's right here," Felicity said, handing the receptionist the packet that she had gotten from the doctor, along with a stack of other consent forms that had been sent to her after the appointment.

"Thank you," she said, "I will get you checked in. Please, have a seat over there," she motioned toward a set of couches.

She walked over and sat down on the first couch she came to, placing her backpack on the seat next to her. She was quickly beset with anxiety about the whole thing. This was probably her last chance to just walk away. If she let them take her back there, that would be the end of it.

Did she want to walk away? What was waiting out there for her? Was that feeling of freedom she felt earlier because she was walking away from her old life, or was it because she was walking toward this one? Did she really want to become someone else's dumb, subservient pet?

She was going to have to make a big, irrevocable choice today, and the more she thought about it, the more anxious she felt.

"Ms. Sloan?" A voice came behind her. Felicity looked around and saw a uniformed attendant with a tablet looking around the waiting room.

The attendant was a picture of androgyny. Medium length hair, cherub-like facial features, and a figure that gave no obvious indication of gender.

Felicity was beset with an instinct to run. Maybe this was just too much. How could she commit to something like this? But where would she go? She had thought so long and hard about this. She should just trust herself to have made the right decision and have the courage to see it through.

"Here," she said, standing up, looking at the attendant.

"Please, come this way and we will get you started," said the attendant.

"How are you feeling today?" The attendant asked her, smiling with a convincing facsimile of interest.

Felicity didn't see a reason to lie to anybody anymore. After all, this version of herself only had a few hours to live. She might as well put it all out there.

"Like I'm walking into a birthday and a funeral at the same time," she said.

"That's very normal, Ms. Sloan," said the attendant in a calming tone. They pressed a button to call the elevator, and then reached over to put a hand on Felicity's arm. "This is such a big choice to make, and you are so brave to have made it this far."

"Thank you?" She said, confused by the seemingly unnatural display of compassion. "Where, um, where are we going?" She asked anxiously.

"I'm taking you up to Dr. Svetlack's office. He will oversee your treatment here. He will begin to explain the treatment process to you," they explained as the elevator arrived.

Felicity followed them into the elevator, wringing her hands nervously. "How soon will I start treatment?" She asked, trying to sound confident.

"That is up to you," they explained. "Dr. Svetlack will explain more, but the first step of this process is to select your donor, and that will take as much time as you require. It is an incredibly important choice, so you will be under no pressure to make it quickly. Once your donor is selected, you will choose a time to begin the process."

"Thank you," Felicity said, feeling quite a bit of relief. "For being so kind. This is a lot to process."

"Of course," they said, smiling brightly. "I can't say I know how hard it is, but I do see how anxious many of our patients are. My name is Trenton, please let me know if I can do anything to make your time here more comfortable."

Felicity was hoping that Trenton's name would help her to gender the person but found that hope frustrated. Then, she began to wonder why she felt such a strong compulsion to gender them in the first place.

"Trenton," Felicity started as the elevator dinged its arrival and came to a stop. "What uh, pronouns should I use for you?" She asked.

Trenton's face lit up with genuine gratitude. "Thank you for asking, Felicity. I prefer they/them."

"Of course," she said, following Trenton out of the elevator and into a long corridor. "It's weird how strong the compulsion is to gender people, isn't it?" She asked a little absently.

"You have no idea," Trenton smiled conspiratorially toward Felicity, finally holding open the door to an office and motioning for her to go inside.

"Dr. Svetlack, this is Felicity Sloan," Trenton announced as Felicity entered the room.

"Ah, Ms. Sloan, it's wonderful to finally meet you," Dr. Svetlack said, getting up from behind his desk and walking out to offer her his hand in greeting.

--

Chapter 3 - Another Doctor

"Please, have a seat," Dr. Svetlack said, gesturing to the pair of chairs on the near side of his desk. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Some water would be lovely," she said, taking a seat.

The doctor retrieved a bottle of cold water from a small refrigerator set into the wall of the office and handed it to Felicity.

"Thank you," she said, smiling up at him. She was beginning to get used to how kind and thoughtful the people in this building seemed to be, but a deep part of her distrusted these surface-level displays of generosity. Still, she had become so used to feeling degraded by the normal course of receiving any kind of medical care, it was difficult not to be drawn in by this place.

"You're welcome. I hope you've found so far that we try very hard to make you feel safe and comfortable here. So please, if I can do anything to help you, will you tell me?" He asked.

"Uhm, sure," she said, surprised by the question.

"Excellent. Now, I can't imagine how many patronizing doctors you've had to go through to be sitting with me now, and I'm sure each of them tried to talk you out of being here, so I'm going to make this as easy and painless for you as possible. You've been through enough harassment, as far as I'm concerned," he said.

She blinked back at him in surprise.

"You couldn't have made it this far without 10 different people explaining to you in minute detail all the risks and implications inherent to what we are about to do to you, so I'm not going to waste either of our time going into that again. However, I do want to give you the opportunity to ask me any questions you might have before we move forward," he paused for a moment. "What we do in this building is not looked upon highly by the medical community, and there are a lot of falsehoods spread about what we do. If there is anything you are afraid of, or concerned about, please share them with me and I will address your concerns."

It had not occurred to her that some of what she heard or had been told may just be outright fabrications. Given the way some of the doctors talked about this place, she believed this was true.

"Well, my biggest concern is about choosing a 'donor', as your marketing language puts it," she said, and he smiled and nodded at the inadequacy of the word. "This person is going to own me, for all intents and purposes, for the rest of my life. How can I trust that they will take care of me?"

"Felicity, you are asking the right question. It is only natural, and rational, to be afraid of making a choice like that," he reassured her. "The first thing I tell people in your situation is to make sure to carefully read over all the information we give you about each donor. You will have the opportunity to summon your top picks here to meet with them privately and get a sense for yourself who they are and what they want before selecting any of them. You are free to test them in any way you see fit, and I recommend you do so. If you get the sense that any of them are being evasive or misrepresenting their intentions, I highly recommend you choose someone else."

He let her process that for a moment before continuing, "And the second thing I always say is, go with your gut. You can read everything there is to read about a person, but for a choice like this, I recommend you trust your instincts more than anything else. The information we provide is more to let you narrow the field. Reserve your final judgment for the in-person meeting, and do not ignore any red flags you see."

She thought about what he said for a long time. It was very similar to her own thoughts about the subject, with a few important new tidbits. The next question slipped somewhere out of her subconscious while she was processing the rest.

"Do you think it's ethical to keep human beings as pets?" She asked.

"Good question. First, I would take issue with the word pet in this context. I understand the desire to adopt that terminology for the convenience of it, but the relationship between our patients and... 'donors' is far more complex than, say, owning a cat. The emotional connection is more like that of a spousal bond, it's just that there is an enormous power imbalance between the parties. Much of the success of this relationship rests on the character of the donor, but is it really that much different than taking care of a disabled child or parent? The fact is, someone needs to take care of those who cannot care for themselves, and if you undergo this treatment, you will not be able to properly care for yourself. If you believe this treatment is a worthwhile tool for your health and well-being, then you need to accept that reality as part of the price of admission."

He paused again to let this sink in. "But yes, is the answer to your question. I think the bond between our patients and donors is beautiful, and both parties certainly get a lot of joy out of the relationship, in my experience. Both people have a need, and we try to find two people with matching needs."

He paused again, bouncing his pen onto his desk, before finishing his thought. "And please keep in mind that your needs will be a lot different after treatment than what they are now. For most people, this is the core appeal of undergoing the treatment. You will be a lot more child-like, but with adult hormones to muddy the waters. You'll want to feel safe and cared for. You'll want to eat when you're hungry and sleep when you're tired. You'll want to have sex when you're horny, and you won't have any adult inhibitions about any of these things. Many people find this appealing, and I imagine you do as well, or you likely would not be here."

"Yes, I do," she admitted. "All that sounds really lovely," she breathed, longing to feel the simplicity of that existence.

"I'm glad," he said. "And based on what I've seen in your chart, I think this new life has an excellent chance of finally bringing you some joy and fulfillment in life. That is what we are here to help you achieve."

"Well, how can I argue with that?" She asked, a tear falling down her cheek. She wanted so deeply to be happy, to stop feeling all this oppressive pain. She would do anything. Even cut out a part of herself. Her decision was firmly made.

"One final thing, and this is a little uncomfortable, I'm sure. But it's worth saying," he took a deep breath and let it out. "When you find a donor you really like, and you meet with them, and the meeting goes well..." He trailed off for a painfully long moment.

"I highly recommend you have intercourse with them before you make your decision. We would never dream of requiring such a thing, but the fact is you're choosing the primary sexual partner for the rest of your life, and it's in your best interest to ensure the experience is pleasurable."

"I uhm, think I understand, doctor," she said, embarrassed by the proposition. But what he was saying made a lot of sense.

"Excellent," he said, clapping his hands as if to dispel the awkwardness. "Well, unless you have any other questions, I will call Trenton back in here to help you begin the selection process."

"No, I think that's about all I can handle right now, thank you doctor," she smiled awkwardly at him and took a big drink of her water.

"That's about what I thought," he said, smiling at her. "But please, when you think of more questions for me, write them down. You will have more opportunity to get your questions answered before we begin treatment."

He pressed a button on the console of this desk, and a few seconds later, Trenton opened the door and smiled at them.

"Trenton, please show Felicity to her selection room and help her get started on the process," Dr. Svetlack instructed.

Felicity stood up and shook the doctor's hand again before walking to the door and leaving with Trenton.

--

Chapter 4 - Selection

Trenton led Felicity back to the elevator and onto a floor higher up in the facility. "I am taking you to your selection room, as we call it, but it's just your temporary home until you leave with your new donor. In the room is a console to tap into our database of donors, but it's also furnished as a bedroom where you can rest and sleep. As I said before, you can take as much time as you like to make your choice. You will not be pressured by anyone here."

They came to stand in front of a room with an electronic lock which read '1302'. Trenton opened the lock with a key card and held it open for Felicity. Once they were inside, Trenton handed the card to her. "This is your access badge. Make sure you keep it with you when you leave your room."

Felicity looked down at the badge and saw that it had her name and a small photo of her printed on the front. "Thank you, Trenton."

The room was modestly sized but not restrictive. It was bathed in a soothing blue light, and all the furniture was white. It was a comforting place to be. Felicity supposed this was its purpose.

Trenton walked over to the desk against the far wall. "If you scan your key card here," they pointed to a small box mounted to the top of the desk, "The system will log you in to the selection database."

Felicity blinked a few times before realizing she should walk over and log in, as Trenton instructed. She put the card next to the box and heard a quiet beep in acknowledgement.

Suddenly, the entire wall of the room lit up with color. A logo flashed across the wall for a moment before an interface began to load.

Felicity sat down at the desk and pulled out the keyboard and mouse.

'Welcome, Felicity!' flashed across the screen, and finally a simple search interface appeared.

"In that field up top you can type in any keyword you like, if you want to search by text," Trenton explained. "But the filters down below are probably where you want to start. You can filter by just about any demographic trait you can think of- gender, age, race, ethnicity, profession, relationship status, location, net worth, and many others. When you're done, click the search button on the bottom and you will be able to browse the results. Make sense?" They asked.

Felicity nodded her head and began to explore the interface, triggering her to begin pondering what the most important traits should be.

"Great!" Trenton said. "Can I help you with anything else for now? There's a button by the door over here you can press to call me back here at any time."

"Uhm, is there any way you could... stay with me for a while, Trenton?" Felicity asked, not relishing the thought of being alone with such a monumental decision before her. She also found Trenton's presence very comforting for some reason.

"Of course!" They spoke. "I might have to step out here and there if I get called to another task, but my patient load is pretty light right now so I should be able to stay with you for the most part," they paused for a moment, looking at the clock. "Perhaps I can go and get us some lunch? Are you hungry?"

"That sounds great, Trenton, thank you," Felicity said.

"Great!" They spoke. "I'll be back in about 10 minutes then," they walked out the door and closed it behind them.

Felicity stared at the first filter: age. She didn't really want someone much younger than her, but she also didn't savor the thought of outliving this person. 32-42 it was.

Gender: she had already decided. Male.

Race and ethnicity: why should she care? She left it blank.

Relationship status: she didn't really fancy the thought of dealing with a wife in the middle of this dynamic. Single.

She realized this probably didn't narrow things down much. If she were going to bet, she would bet that 32-42-year-old single males were the primary customer of this program. But what else was really that important? She didn't want to limit her choices by some arbitrary decision.

She pressed the search button, and after a couple of seconds, a grid of headshots began to fill the screen. She felt a bit like she was using a dating app. Except, you know, more of a 'choose your new permanent owner' app.

But somehow the grid of faces made her feel better about it. These were real people. She could meet them. It wasn't some abstract choice; she was picking a flesh and blood human man with thoughts and aspirations and emotions.

She started scanning over the faces and began to wonder where to start. There were so many. And then she remembered the doctor's advice. Go with her gut.

She started looking for faces that looked kind or compassionate. When she hovered over a face with the cursor, she found that the left half of the thumbnail became a red X and the right half a green star. X to eliminate the donor, Star to mark them for closer review.

So, she started from the top left of the grid and chose an option for every single donor, based entirely on the immediate gut feeling she had looking at their faces. 90% or more were destined for the X, she realized.

That should make the next part a little easier.

Her initial search returned 67 results, and she eliminated 60 of them in a couple of minutes. Trenton came back into the room as she was making a selection for the last handful of choices.

"Wow, looks like you've made great progress already!" Trenton said. They walked over to Felicity's desk and set down 2 plates containing sandwiches, chips, and a pickle. "Hope you like turkey," they said, smiling.

"That sounds great. Thank you, Trenton," Felicity said.

"Well, if you're ready to start reviewing the details of your remaining picks, click that little orange button in the bottom right of the screen," Trenton instructed.

Felicity clicked the orange button and picked up her sandwich. A much larger photo of the first man appeared at the top of the screen, and a summary of his basic demographic details was laid out under the photo.

Trenton took their sandwich and took a seat next to the bed, a few yards away from the desk.

"Well, he's definitely cute," Trenton said, giggling slightly. "I gather you're looking for a man, then?" They asked.

"Yeah. Single man, 32-42," Felicity said.

"Well that narrows it down," Trenton said sarcastically, confirming Felicity's earlier suspicions. "But that's good. You have a lot more to choose from," they paused and then added, "What's this one's name?"

"John Farrow," Felicity answered. "37 years old, architect in Seattle, comes from money," she summarized quickly.

"He has very kind eyes," Trenton observed. "What do you think?"

"Yeah, there's something about him that I'm very attracted to. And he does look like he would be kind," Felicity answered.

"Well, you see that bar over there to the right? If you look closely, there are spots to drag the headshots, and they are numbered. You can use that to keep track of your top picks. Go ahead and put him in #1, since you like him and he's the first. I'd recommend you go through all these and rank them and then go back and read the detailed profiles of your top 3 or 4."

Felicity dragged John into the #1 spot and clicked the arrow for the next profile.

Both of them were immediately put off by the larger photo of the second man. He had a palpably fake smile, an ill-fitting suit, and an overall air of arrogance.

"I don't know what I was thinking with that one," Felicity laughed, and Trenton joined her. Felicity found the red X in the bottom left of his picture, and quickly excluded him from the running, causing the next man to appear.

The third man gave John a run for his money with an attractive face, a convincing smile, and genuine eyes.

"Rodger Haltman," Felicity read. "41, executive at a manufacturing firm based in LA, appears to be self-made," she summarized.

"Looks like a keeper to me," Trenton said, winking at their new friend when she looked over.

Felicity dragged Rodger into the #2 spot and called up the next profile.

The unlikely pair poured over the remaining profiles, laughing far more than they expected. Felicity was put at ease, breaking down the task into manageable chunks and having a companion to laugh with. For a while, she managed to forget the terrible weight of this decision and just focus on the task of finding a man that interested her. It occurred to her that, as little power as she would have after the procedure, she wielded absolute power over the fate of these men now. One of them would be hers, as much as she was his, and she was the one that got to choose. This was a level of agency that she had not felt over her future in years.

After a while, she had narrowed the field to 3 men. John, Rodger, and a man named Travis Bletchley.

Trenton showed Felicity how to review the detailed psychological profile of the men, and they combed over the profiles of each very carefully. None of them registered at all on the psychopathy scale, but each had their strengths and weaknesses. Travis was the most compassionate of the group. John scored very highly in nurturing and caretaking. Rodger was the most intelligent and scored the highest on loyalty.

"All 3 seem like solid choices, Felicity," Trenton said. "If you want, we can set up meetings for you with all 3 of them. Or you can narrow it down further now."

The weight of this decision began creeping back in on her now that it was narrowed to a small handful. One of these three would be it. She looked long and hard at the photos of each, assessing her instincts about them each in turn.

"I have a funny feeling about Travis. I think I'm going to take him out of the running," Felicity said.

"By all means," said Trenton. "Trust your instincts."

"Can you set up meetings with the other two?" Felicity asked, turning her chair back toward Trenton.

"Of course," Trenton smiled. "We can usually get these guys in here for you fast, even from across the country. They're usually pretty eager. I'll go talk with the scheduling team and see what we can arrange for you."

Trenton stood up to leave, gathering the plates on their way out.

"Trenton," Felicity said as they were pulling the door open. "Thank you for doing this with me. It meant a lot."

Trenton smiled and nodded their head in acknowledgement before stepping through the door.

--

Chapter 5 - John

It happened that John was the first to finalize his trip to meet Felicity. He had gotten on a plane almost immediately and would be at the facility by 6:00pm, so he suggested that the two meet over dinner. Just like that, the scheduling team had arranged a dinner date with Felicity's first potential owner.

Rodger was flying out tomorrow and would be meeting with her midmorning.

Felicity barely knew what to do with herself now that the meetings were arranged. There was not much to do in the selection room, and she hadn't brought any means of entertainment with her.

She began to wonder about what she should wear. There were not many options among the handful of outfits she had fit in her backpack. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she could not be the only patient in this facility with a felt need to give a good first impression, and a general lack of clothing options at their disposal. She wanted to look nice for her meeting with John, for the sake of her own confidence, if nothing else.

There was no doubt that these would be the final important meetings of her life, and the more she thought about that, the more she did not want to give herself time to ruminate. As if the weight of this meeting were not enough, Dr. Svetlack's parting advice rang uncomfortably loud in the back of her mind. If she was going to end up having sex with John, she did not relish the thought of showing up for dinner in a set of gym clothes.

Given the generally impressive level of hospitality she had received so far, she harbored a hope that Trenton might be able to help her with her wardrobe problem. She pressed the button by the door to summon Trenton and then slumped back down on the couch to wait.

After a few minutes, Trenton came back into the room. "Hey Felicity, what can I do for you?" They asked.

"Hey, uhm, I guess I'm having dinner with John tonight. I was wondering if you could help me find something nicer to wear. And maybe some makeup," Felicity asked nervously, hopeful but uncertain about what Trenton could help her with.

"Yeah, of course!" They said, "Happens all the time. Most people don't come here with a whole lot of stuff..."

Trenton led Felicity downstairs to the pair of women that were charged with helping patients with wardrobe and makeup predicaments. They did a fabulous job, leaving Felicity feeling sexier than she had in years, barely recognizing herself in the mirror when they were done.

She had selected a black party dress with a plunging v neckline and a high slit in the front. She thought it succeeded in making her look sexy without looking like she was trying too hard.

When the time had come for the meeting, Trenton led her onto the same floor where she had met Dr. Svetlack earlier, snaking their way through the corridor until they were at the door of an unmarked, secluded room.

"He should already be in here waiting for you. Are you ready?" Trenton asked her.

Felicity took a deep breath before nodding at Trenton.

With the door open, Felicity strode inside with all the confidence she could muster.

John's photo, as good as it was, did not come close to doing the man justice. He had a charming presence that made people want to lean in and listen to what he had to say. He was tall, but not overly so. His eyes were blue-green and very kind. He had full lips and he had an adorable cleft in his chin.

Felicity was taken with him immediately, smiling broadly at him when he stood up to greet her.

"It's so great to meet you, Felicity," he said. "Wow, you look stunning tonight," he placed his hands on her shoulders as if to take her in more thoroughly. The skin of his hands on her shoulders wiped some of the anxiety she felt walking in the room.

"Thank you," she spoke. "You're looking very handsome yourself," she blushed a little admitting as much, hoping her makeup hid the worst of it.

John was in a dark gray suit which had been cut to give the impression of wealth. Under the jacket, he wore a lavender silky-looking shirt and a checkered purple and black tie.

They stood there just looking at each other for longer than either of them realized. Eventually, John asked, "Would you like to sit down?"

She blinked rapidly a few times, as if he had broken a spell. "Yeah... of course," she answered, taking her seat, and trying to pull herself together.

John sat down opposite her at a small table at the center of the room, which was walled on two sides by floor to ceiling windows.

"Thank you for meeting with me tonight, Felicity," he began, "I know this is a huge decision for you, and I appreciate that you are considering me. I would like tonight to be as comfortable as possible, so please feel free to ask me anything at all your heart desires, and I promise to be completely candid."

"And please rest assured that this is a very one-sided relationship at the moment. I know almost nothing about you, except you are a prospective patient here," he added. "Other than the fact that you're gorgeous, of course."

This time, she was sure the makeup was utterly inadequate to hide her blush.

"Well, now you know that you can make me blush twice in 30 seconds," she quipped at him, trying to take the focus from her face for a moment.

He chuckled at her joke and gave her a wide smile.

"And thank you, John, for taking the time to fly up here and meet with me so quickly. I appreciate that," she told him.

"It's my pleasure," he replied. "And before I forget, when we're ready for dinner, we just need to push that call button over by the door. Are you hungry?" He asked.

"Not really," she said. She picked up the glass of water that was sitting in front of her and took a long, slow drink, unsure of what to say and trying to give herself time to come up with something.

She felt her anxiety rising quickly. This felt wrong. So wrong. The more she thought about it, the more she felt like a death row inmate sitting down to their last meal. She flicked her eyes up to his, putting her glass down and trying to pull herself together with a deep breath.

"I'm... sorry," she said, voice shaking a little. "This is just such a strange feeling. Whether I pick you or not, you're one of the last people in the world that this version of me is ever going to talk to. And I don't know how to feel about that. I don't see how anyone would know how to feel about that."

She managed to force her eyes up into his after she finished. He was looking sympathetically at her, considering his response. She felt a little better, seeing that he seemed to care about how hard this was for her.

"If you don't mind, I have a question, Felicity. I know this is your time to assess me, but I can see how hard this is for you, and I think it might be helpful for you to remind yourself why you're here in the first place," he paused to give her time to stop him, but she just looked back at him, vaguely grateful that she didn't have to carry the conversation.

"Why did you decide to become a patient here?" He asked.

She blinked at him a few times, considering how deep to go in her answer. She could think of no good reason to tell him anything but the unvarnished truth.

"My life's been really shitty," she started, letting her eyes rest on the floral table centerpiece that sat between them. "And I don't even want to get into that, because it would sound like I'm auditioning for the position of shittiest life story in North America. Point is, I've been through a lot. And my life now is not stellar either," she paused to take another drink.

"So, I've been to every kind of doctor and psychiatrist there is, tried every kind of treatment anybody's come up with, and nothing has stopped this nagging little problem of constantly wanting to kill myself," she paused again to gauge his reaction. He was listening intently, not giving much away on his face.

"And the thing about wanting to kill yourself is, everyone treats you like you're an insane person. And being treated like an insane person for years leaves you with a special kind of trauma that you really can't get away from."

"But I'm not crazy. Doctors can't conceive of the reality that killing myself might be the rational response to my history and environment, so they throw it back on you like it's your problem and tell you to consent to whatever degrading ordeal of a treatment that makes them feel better about how hopelessly fucked up you are."

"And that's been my life for years now. I truthfully can't tell you why I'm still alive. It was beginning to feel like the doctors had taken my agency and personhood and forged it into the last, most terrible tool for my torment. I knew who I was, I knew that I deserved to be treated better, and I knew that I had no power over many of the things that were bringing me so much pain. I had to sit and watch the trainwreck of my life while the doctors told me it would be fine if I took my pills and showed up to therapy."

"So, when I heard about this program, it just sounded like the only answer. To have my self-perception annihilated, and my ability to relive my countless traumas removed. To let them make it very simple for me to be happy and content. To let go of all the poisonous emotional baggage I carry with me everywhere I go, and just be something simpler. I just couldn't stop thinking about it," she finished, tears now streaming down her cheeks.

She dabbed her tears dry with the stark white napkin, her mascara staining the tears black against the fabric.

"I'm very sorry that you've been through all of that," he said simply. It was really the only thing anyone could say. If nothing else, it was the least patronizing thing anyone could say.

"And I think I understand," he continued, immediately drawing her attention and surprise. "Part of it at least."

He paused, drew himself up to his full height in his chair, and took a deep breath. "I've been dealing with chronic back pain for most of my life. It's well managed now, but when it's not, I think a lot about killing myself. It becomes hard to think of a reason to keep going when every moment is nothing but pain."

She could see the darkness behind his eyes as he was speaking. The darkness that only comes from a person staring into the void and having the void chip off little pieces of your soul as it looks back at you.

"I can't imagine the hell of carrying that around all the time, with no hope for escape, and being treated as if you're nothing but an inconvenient reminder of the inadequacy of a bunch of men with god complexes," he looked like he was willfully holding the tears back with a facade of empathetic anger.

Felicity was now outright crying, trying to stop herself from crossing the threshold into sobbing. She had gone years. Years. Without another human being listening to her long enough to even let her explain. Let alone understand. Or validate the battered, half-dead part of her psyche that was clinging onto her final claim to sanity.

She was trying to keep up with the stream of tears, her napkin soon becoming damp to the touch with the outpouring of emotion.

"Thank you," she managed to pull herself together enough to eke out. She did need a reminder of why she was sitting across from him. The anxiety was a distant memory, light catharsis taking up residence in its place.

"But that's enough crying for me, thank you," she wiped the last of her tears and took a calming breath. Finally, she leveled an intrigued gaze across the table at him.

"I think it's your turn now, John. Why did you decide to become a... 'donor'?" She rolled her eyes to indicate the inadequacy of that euphemism.

He laughed quietly at her innuendo. "Well, there's a lot of reasons this appeals to me. I will try and explain as many as I can," he said. He had a very affecting voice, she thought. He wasn't being assertive or aggressive at all, and yet she felt compelled to listen very carefully.

"I haven't had good luck with romantic relationships in my life. I married my first wife when I was way too young to know anything about relationships, and we were just not right for each other. We wanted different things in life, and we didn't have the good sense to talk that over before we got hitched. That marriage lasted a whopping 17 months."

He spoke at a slow, deliberate pace that caused her to hang on each word.

"I thought I was hot shit when I married my second wife a few years later. I thought that, because I fucked up the first time, I learned all the lessons there were to learn. She showed me quickly how wrong I was. She introduced me to a life of emotional abuse and manipulation that I was completely unprepared for. By the time I finally had the sense to get myself out of that situation, I was ready to be done with romance for the rest of my life."

"But, you know, time goes on, and the heart wants what it wants, despite what we would prefer. I have a really hard time trusting women in a romantic setting after all that, but even so I crave a woman's touch and attention and affection. So, the idea of having a devoted companion that just loves and appreciates me for just being with and taking care of her, no strings, no games, no manipulations... that's an idea that's hard to get out of my head."

"Another aspect is, I've always wanted to have children of my own. It's been hard, getting older and feeling like that dream is dying. So, I would like to have some children with my companion."

Felicity was a bit taken aback by this. She had never considered the possibility of being forced to bear children in her new life. She just wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"I know that's going to be a complicated dynamic, with my companion not really in a mental state to care for children. And I would never dream of putting her in the position of having to navigate a caretaking role in her compromised state. But she would be their mother, and I'm sure she would love them, and they would bring her joy as well. We will just need help with parenting and caring for them. It will be a very non-traditional family dynamic, but I'm willing to figure out a way to make it work for everyone."

"And finally, there is the appeal of the sexual and power exchange dynamics. This would be a massive overshare in any other context, but if I were in your position I would want complete honesty, so that's what I'm going to give you."

"I am a dominant lover, and I crave rough sex. So, the idea of having a perfectly submissive partner, who will welcome me roughing her up a bit and thank me for it when we're cuddling in aftercare... that is the most profoundly erotic thing I can imagine. The idea of having a lover that will obey my commands and selflessly fuck me any way I feel like just feels like something too good for this earth."

She was looking at him with quite a bit of apprehension, part of her excited by the prospect, and part of her very worried about how far he wanted to push her.

"I'm sure that sounds alarming. And if you want to ask more specific questions about my sexual proclivities, please feel free. But the use of violence during sex for me is about feeling dominant, not inflicting pain. I'm talking about things like slapping, spanking, choking, manhandling into different sex positions. Nothing that leaves any kind of mark, and all of which can and does heighten the pleasure of the recipient, if they are in the right submissive headspace. And I don't think that part would be a problem."

"And of course, the other side of it is just how much I value that submission. A woman who gave herself to me like that would be a goddess to me. There is no bottom to the well of affection and love I would feel for her, both during and outside of the sexual context."

He paused for a while. She was still looking apprehensive, but there was a glint of interest in her eyes as well.

"I know that was a lot. And a lot of it very intimate and awkward. I'm sorry to dump it all on you at once, but you deserve to know. And I'll answer anything I can for you if you want to know more," he assured her, folding his hands in his lap, and waiting patiently for her to respond.

"I've, uhm, just never been with a man who was rough like that. So, I just don't know how I would react to being treated that way," she said.

"Well, does the idea of being spanked during sex excite you?" He asked, casually.

"Yes," she said, almost immediately.

"Ok, what about the idea of a man choking you while he's having sex with you. Not like making you pass out, just taking control of when you can breathe," he asked, the excitement a little more evident in his voice.

She thought about his strong fingers wrapped around her throat while he fucked her. About the perfect helplessness of losing the ability to breathe. "Yes," she said heavily. "I am excited by that idea. If he doesn't hurt me."

"Great," he smiled at her. "And what about the idea of being held down, not knowing where he is going to put his cock next, and being completely helpless to resist him?"

She thought about being held down with that hand around her neck, completely unable to move, seeing the wild lust in his eyes and not knowing whether his cock was about to slide up her ass or into her cunt. She realized her panties were getting damp and her breath had quickened. She never realized that she wanted to be fucked like this, but she could not deny how appealing he made it sound.

"Yes," she said unsteadily. "That arouses me very much," she admitted.

"Lovely," he smiled knowingly at her. "Then I really don't think you have anything to worry about from me."

She thought about her new self, free from all inhibitions and wired on a chemical level to desire to please him. She could see how euphoric it might be for her to engage in this kind of sex with him.

She looked into his eyes for a long time. Her gut was telling her that this man would take good care of her. That he would value her new self and give her all the affection she craved and seldom received.

"I'm apprehensive about the idea of being impregnated and having children," she said, not really that sure where she was going with this, but she felt the need to verbalize something. "This version of me is not interested in that aspect of life, but I'm sure I will feel differently after the treatment. It sounds like it would be a very strange family dynamic. But I don't think that's necessarily bad."

"How about this, Felicity," he started, "If you choose me, when the time is right, I will ask you what you think about getting pregnant and having children. If you still do not want to do it, I will not force you."

"That sounds very fair, John, but I don't see how I would have any power to enforce that compromise with you," she pointed out.

"You would have no power," he stated mater-of-factly. "But if you don't trust me to be truthful with you now, I recommend you do not move forward with me. That wouldn't be fair to yourself."

She nodded in agreement. She knew that was the choice she was making. She would lose all control the moment she started the procedure.

"Do you plan on making me walk around on all fours? Or anything humiliating like that?" She asked.

"Sometimes, yes," he said, surprising her a little. "But I don't think you will even be able to feel humiliated about it. It's a small but constant demonstration of your submission to me," he explained.

She certainly did not relish the thought, but she could follow the chain of logic again that begins with her submission and ends with her pleasure.

"Maybe you're right, but it's not easy to get my head around that right now," she said. She thought about asking him to elaborate on some of the other humiliating things he would be asking her to do for him, but she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know the answer. And if she was right, what did it matter? If pleasing him made her happy, she would want to do these things for him. If she didn't believe this were the case, she should walk away right now.

"How will you make sure I am happy and cared for?" She asked.

"Well, from what I understand, you will not be able to conceal your emotions very well, so when I see that you're sad I will find out why and do my best to help you. And of course, I will give you affection and attention every day, in both sexual and non-sexual ways. I'll always make sure you have a comfortable place to sleep and enough to eat and drink. I will make sure you receive any medical care you may need, and if I am ever unable to provide these things directly for you, I will make sure a trusted guardian will do so in my place."

This reminded her of another important question. "Will you be ordering me to have sex with anyone other than yourself?"

"No, that is certainly not my plan, Felicity. I would never ask you such a thing, however I have heard of situations where companions develop a fixation on a friend or something of that nature and start begging their... 'donor' to let them have sex with this person. If we came across a situation like that, I don't think I would stop you from satisfying your desires, if it didn't put you in danger."

She looked at him quietly for a very long time, lost in a sea of newness and unreality. There was too much to think about. Too much to try and understand all at once. She could keep drilling down on these questions with him for a week, and probably only end up feeling more overwhelmed with the strangeness of it.

She needed to make a judgment about John as a person at a very high level, and she already had the information she needed to do that. Almost.

"This new world is so strange to me I could continue asking you questions until we pass out from exhaustion," she told him eventually. "But what I need to do tonight is decide if you're a person I can trust to love me and take care of me when I become a far more vulnerable version of myself."

She paused and they looked into each other's eyes in silence for a while. There was something very compelling about him, she thought. Even in her more self-conscious state. He was admirably honest. He seemed to understand why she was doing this to herself. She believed him when he said that he would love and take care of her.

But words were one thing. She could think of one final test to put him through. And she could think of a multitude of reasons she wanted to. But she was terrified to do it. She had never done anything like this before in her life. But tonight, it was all or nothing.

--

Chapter 6 - A Test

"I have one final test for you, John," she said, pushing her chair back and getting onto her feet. "Pretend I am already your helpless, subservient pet," she slipped the straps of her dress off her shoulders and reached behind her to undo the zipper. The dress fell onto the floor, revealing a set of classic black lace lingerie.

She began to slowly walk over to him in a way she hoped looked seductive. "Be as rough with me as you dare," she stopped a few feet from his chair and then dropped onto her knees in front of him, folding her hands in her lap and looking up at him.

"Show me what kind of master you want to be to me," she finished, as confidently as she could muster, resolving to submit herself to anything he asked.

He reached down to her and ran his fingers through her hair very slowly. She immediately realized how desperately starved for touch she was, and found herself subconsciously nuzzling into his hand, shivers running down through her whole body.

"I like the way you think, Felicity," he crooned quietly, continuing to stroke her hair. "And this might very well be the most erotic way anyone has ever offered themselves to me. So, bonus points for that if my opinion counts for anything."

She heard what he said, but wasn't particularly moved to respond, savoring the soothing touch in her hair.

"But a few things before I start," he pulled his fingers from her hair and placed them on her cheek until she looked up at him.

"What kind of birth control are you on?" He asked.

"I have an IUD," she said softly.

He nodded slightly. "Do you want me to use a condom?" He asked.

"No," she heard coming from her lips before she could think of a response. She wanted this to be raw and intimate. She wanted to feel every minute detail of what he did to her.

He nodded again. "Do you consent to me ejaculating inside you?" He asked.

If that's what he wanted from her, she would consent. She was asking for him to take her, and if that was a boundary he wanted to cross right away, then that was part of the experience of him.

"Yes," she told him, a breathy excitement building inside her.

He nodded again, smiling this time. "Has a partner of yours ever practiced orgasm denial on you during sex?" He asked.

"No," she said, not too sure what he meant.

"Okay. I will be introducing you to the practice tonight. I am going to edge you repeatedly and deny your orgasm until the end. So, I need you to vocalize to me when you're getting close. After a while I will know your body language, but for the first few times I need you to say something. Do you understand?" He asked.

"Yes," she said, her body nearly beginning to tremble with anticipation for what he was going to do.

He smiled again and pet her head with his hand. "Very good girl," he praised her.

She didn't know why she cared what he thought, but the words filled her with satisfaction despite herself. It felt good to make him happy.

"Are you ready to begin?" He asked.

She didn't have much faith left in her voice, so she just nodded at him, looking into his eyes.

"Very well, Felicity. Stand up please," he asked.

As she was getting to her feet, he continued, "The first thing we need to do is get rid of all these nerves."

When she was on her feet, he grasped both sides of her panties and slid them down her legs. Her heart began pounding very suddenly, realizing how exposed she was. That this was really happening.

But he didn't waste any time ogling her, he stood up, picked her up by her hips, and placed her ass on the edge of the table. He immediately sat back in his chair and looked up at her face.

"Put your legs over my shoulders," he instructed.

She did as he asked, chest heaving with deep, apprehensive breaths. He wrapped his arms around her legs and brushed his face against her inner thighs. She felt his tongue sliding up her thighs, dangerously close to her cunt, but he stopped short and reset his head.

When her pussy began to ache for touch, he finally brushed his tongue over her, a loud moan falling from her lips. He slowly ran his tongue up the length of her slit several times until she could barely keep her eyes open.

Ohhh god, ohhh Jesus fuck, he was good at that. Every time he found her clit it was like an explosion across her skin.

She messed around with a lesbian in college once, this reminded her of that.

Before long, she could no longer track where his tongue was or what he was doing with it. Only that it felt sublime. If this is what it felt like to be dominated, she wondered why she didn't sign up a decade ago.

His mouth and tongue increased in intensity steadily, along with her arousal. She absently squeezed her breasts over her bra. Her fingers sought out his hair, stroking his head with one hand and squeezing herself with the other.

Some deep part of her said, "I'm getting close," while the rest of her brain was surprised she even could speak.

He pushed her for another couple of seconds, forcing her deliciously close to the edge, before taking one final, very slow, very passionate lick across her entire pussy.

Her whole body shuddered when he withdrew his head and began to stand up.

"Spread your legs for me and hold them," he instructed.

She did as he asked, winding her arms around each leg, and spreading them apart for him.

She heard a zipper and the soft clank of pants falling to the floor. Oh Jesus, he was about to fuck her. She didn't know if she could handle that right now.

But it didn't much matter what she thought she could handle. Seconds later, she felt him slide the tip of his cock across her pussy, and the sensation filled her with an overriding desire to feel him inside her. He rubbed himself against her clit several times, earning sweet moans from her with each pass.

When she felt the tip enter her, her eyes rolled into her head and her back arched against the table. He pushed his cock into her slowly, backing off and sliding back in every inch or so. He was big. She couldn't see him, but she felt his girth stretching her skin more than her dildo ever did. She was beginning to wonder how long it was when she finally felt his balls press against her asshole, feeling filled to the brim with his manhood.

She realized with some anxiety that he was about to fuck her with this thing, not completely sure she could handle it. And as if on cue, he slid out of her and thrust himself back in.

"Oh god, more!" She moaned, the anxiety about his size instantly dispelled by the pleasure of the act. "Please more! Please fuck me hard with that huge cock!"

He obliged her request, and soon the slapping sound of the skin of their thighs was echoing off the walls, mingled with her frantic pleas for more.

Without pausing his thrusts, he scooped up her torso from the table and unclasped her bra before pulling her final remaining garment from her skin. She felt her newly freed breasts bouncing against his thrusts and caressed herself with both hands.

She felt him begin to thumb her clit while he fucked her. This was just too much; she could not withstand his onslaught.

"I'm going to cum!" She said urgently between moans.

Her entire body and consciousness were completely startled when he leveled a swift slap against her left breast. Her eyes opened in time to see his hand raising to slap her right breast.

The pain was excruciating for a split second, dispelling her building orgasm, and forcing her attention back inside her skin. He immediately resumed thumbing her clit, and before she could even process the sensations, the skin of her breasts began to tingle pleasantly and the ocean of pleasure flowing from her lower body rushed back over the rest of her.

The second time, she could not help but keep her eyes on him, and the anticipation of his next slap filled her with anxiety about telling him again.

But there was no room for anxiety to fester in the tide of endorphins she was being subjected to. He could see in her eyes that she was getting close again. She could not hide from him.

She tensed up when she saw his hand raise and slap her chest again. The sensation was every bit as painful but not so startling, and once again she was surprised at how rapidly the pain morphed into a dangerous sort of pleasure.

She let her head fall back onto the table and closed her eyes, content to cede any pretense of control to him. This is what submission felt like.

She felt her orgasm build several more times, and welcomed his slaps, no longer flinching away from them. Even though the pain increased with each round, as more blood rushed into the surface of her breasts, the pleasure that replaced it was beginning to cross into the territory of euphoria.

When he suddenly withdrew his cock from inside of her and took a step back, she felt an aching loss so keen that she found her hands had clasped themselves over her pussy to soothe the sudden loss of pleasure.

She was shuddering and whimpering and cradling her cunt, completely unaware and unconcerned with how pathetic she appeared.

She felt his fingers slide through her hair, but this time he clenched them into a fist, pulling her hair with just the tension of his fingers, but he also used the fist to pull her head off the table and force her to sit up.

The pain in her scalp forced her back into reality, or whatever this was. She found that he was looking into her eyes.

"Get down on your knees, Felicity," she heard him say.

Knees? Why? She had knees?

She felt renewed pain in her scalp when he pulled her up off the table into a standing position. He did it slow enough so that her body instinctively followed his pull, preventing the experience from being cruel or excruciating, but it was painful, nonetheless.

She was now standing looking up at him, breath heaving and balance shaky.

"Get down on your knees, Felicity," he instructed again.

She braced herself against his chest to stop herself from falling over, but still fell down a bit ungracefully onto her knees.

His cock was now in her face, and she marveled at it. It felt large inside her, and it looked large outside of her. She wrapped her fingers around the shaft out of idle curiosity more than anything else. She began to lick the tip because it just felt like the correct response.

After a few seconds, she remembered that she was really good at this. How did she forget? It didn't matter. She wasn't great at a lot of things when it came to sex, but she could suck a cock with the best of them. She was soon overcome with excitement to show him how good she was at sucking his cock, and she began to give him a blowjob in earnest.

"Do you know how to deepthroat?" She heard him ask as she was ticking the back of her throat with him. Her eyes searched high up above her for his face, and she gave him a nod with his cock still between her lips. She wasn't completely sure she could fit this monster down her throat, but the thought of trying excited her further.

"Show me," he said.

She groaned into his shaft with the newfound pleasure of being told what to do. She tilted her head to position her throat in line with her mouth and then slid his cock to the back of her throat. She never had much of a gag reflex, thankfully, but she had also never had a cock this large down her throat. She relaxed her throat and pressed her head into him, finding that he slid down her throat without serious effort. She continued taking him into her throat until she felt her nose press into his pelvic bone.

"Holy shit... good girl. Oh my god, jeezzus..." He groaned over her as his cock was sliding into her. When she had him fully swallowed, he placed both hands on her head and gathered her hair up into a single handful. He pulled her off of him and tilted her head back to look up at him.

He was panting when her eyes focused back up to his face. She smiled in satisfaction from the crack she managed to open in his superlative control. He took a deep breath and pulled himself back together.

"Have you ever had your throat fucked?" He asked, his control mostly restored, but she could still see the duress he was under.

"No," she said flatly, still smiling up at him. She had been so completely filled with so many overwhelming sensations and emotions that she just didn't have it in her to feel apprehensive anymore.

"Okay, just do your best to relax your shoulders and throat and let my hand guide you. Tap my leg with your hand if you need to breathe," he instructed.

She nodded her agreement up at him, beginning to feel excited to see how far she could push his control.

She focused on the feeling of his hand in her hair, following his direction and welcoming his cock. He thrust himself into her throat again, but began to rock himself slightly inside of her, extracting that uniquely erotic slurping sound that only comes from a throat being used for pleasure. The rocking soon became more extreme, bordering on thrusting.

She focused on the feeling of his hand in her hair, and the strange sensation of him sliding across her throat. She felt herself begin to fall deeper down inside, like the most annoying parts of her brain had finally decided to shut the fuck up for once. Her world shrank down to just his hand, and his cock, and the distant sensation of all her fluids dripping down her chin and onto her chest.

A white fuzz began to creep around the perimeter of her mind. Air. She needed air. She tapped his leg and felt his hand pull her off of him. She allowed herself to gasp for air, a reluctant concession to the weakness of her body. As soon as she felt the burning in her lungs subside, she lunged for him again. She wasn't exactly sure what made her so desperate for him in that moment, but the truth was evident from her behavior.

His hands closed around her head again. She focused on the feeling of his hands in her hair. She felt so free. How did feeling confined and controlled make her feel so free?

She was free from herself. Free from the nagging darkness within her. Free from the sorrow and loneliness and desperation. Free to indulge herself. Free to be used for his pleasure. Free to let go of control and enjoy whatever came next.

When he pulled her face from his cock for the final time, she barely noticed. She heard sounds, but they did not reach her consciousness. She did notice the loss of touch when his hands left her hair.

She opened her eyes and found that she was being pulled to her feet with his strong arms. He was not rough. Only firm. She let him guide her. She felt him bend her over the table. She felt him pick up her left leg and place her foot on something higher. A chair, it must have been. She felt his cock searching between her legs and she felt a deep relief when he found what he was looking for.

She had never been so thoroughly and completely aroused in her entire life. She had no hope of holding back the orgasm that she already felt mounting within her.

He felt his body lean down into hers, and she heard him tell her, "Cum for me, Felicity."

The words were the last drop into the reservoir of her arousal that finally burst the dam. Her body collapsed onto the table as the torrent of pleasure burst over her. It was the type of orgasm that made her wonder if she had ever had a real orgasm before in her life. She had no idea how long it lasted, but it felt like forever, and when she finally began to return to her senses, she found herself drooling on the table and found him grunting behind her in the throes of his own orgasm. She felt strangely comforted by the feeling of his cum erupting inside her.

She wasn't sure if she could move, or even that she wanted to.

"Can you stand up?" John asked her, gently caressing her back with his hand.

"I think so," She replied, drawing her hands up underneath her and forcing her body off the table. She nearly fell to the ground when she tried to put weight on her legs, but John caught her and held her against him.

"Can you walk over to that couch over there if I help keep you steady?" He asked her.

She looked where he was pointing and noticed a grey couch for the first time. It was only a few yards away, but it felt like a long distance. She started walking over to it, his arm around her shoulders for support.

She collapsed down into the cushions, exhausted from the effort. She looked down at her pussy to find that his cum was leaking onto the fabric and had dripped down her thighs as she walked over.

She heard the sound of running water and realized he was no longer standing with her. After a moment, he appeared beside her again with a napkin in his hand. He kneeled in front of her and cleaned her up gently with the warm, damp napkin.

"Thank you," she said, now feeling comfortable to bring her legs together and hug them against her chest. She was getting very cold.

As if he could read her thoughts, she felt a blanket being draped over her. She sighed in relief at the soft warmth it brought with it.

"Do you want to cuddle?" He asked, sitting down next to her on the couch.

Asking the question caused her to become aware of how keenly she missed that incredible closeness that she felt with him a moment ago. "Yes," she spoke.

He pulled off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, stripping down to his bare chest before sliding her very close to him with his right arm. She moved the blanket so that she could feel his skin against hers.

"I need to get you something to eat soon, but we can cuddle for a while. I don't want you to drop. Especially with your history, I think that would be very unpleasant for you," he said, gentle concern in his voice.

"Drop?" She asked, not sure what he meant.

"Yeah, sub drop. It happens to people who have very intense BDSM experiences like what you just did, especially when you fall as deep into a subspace as it seemed like you did. It's a flood of bad emotions and compulsions that come from your brain chemistry returning to normal from the experience you just had. It's very normal, but you can mitigate it with good aftercare."

"Oh," she said. "What's a subspace?" She asked.

"It's the frame of mind you just experienced. It's a bit like an out of body experience that comes from a kind of meditative submission," he explained.

"Oh," she said. "I've never felt anything like that before. I didn't even know I could have an experience like that," she said, trying to let the comfort of his body heat warm her up and fend off a return to normal for as long as possible.

"Did you find it enjoyable?" He asked.

She picked her head up from his chest and looked into his eyes. "That was the most enjoyable thing I've ever done in my life. I have not felt this good inside my skin ever, not since I can remember."

"I'm very happy to hear that, Felicity," he said, smiling at her.

But even as she reflected on her experience and drew joy from him smiling down at her, she felt the darkness of her normal creeping back over her. She was afraid it would swallow her up. She had been reminded what living was supposed to feel like. How could she cope with returning to the hellish darkness of her normal existence? Was this the sub drop, or was this just her normal flooding back in to destroy her joy?

She began to cry even as he smiled at her. It did not take long for the tears to turn into sobs. Before she knew it, she was ugly crying into his chest.

"I can't go back..." she said, in between sobs. "Please don't make me go back," she pleaded with no one in particular. "I don't want to feel like this anymore," she cried, gut-wrenching pain coating every single word.

"I'm so sorry, Felicity," John said, stroking her hair as she sobbed recklessly into his chest. "I wish I could take all your pain away."

The thought laid ahold of her like she was struck by lightning. She breathed a long breath of forced calm. She had felt this pain long enough. She knew what she had to do. She just had to muster the courage to do it. She shoved down the raw and overwhelming agony in her soul and stood up from the couch.

"I'm sorry, John. I--" she looked down at him, naked but feeling as resolved to action as she ever had in her life. "I really like you. And I appreciate what you showed me tonight. But I'm a deeply fucked up person, and I need to go get that fixed before I can enjoy you properly."

She began to gather up her underwear and put it back on. She picked up the dress from the floor and slipped it over her hips, replacing the straps on her shoulders. She walked over to him and asked him to zip up the dress for her.

"Felicity are you--" his voice broke off. She turned around and looked down at him. He looked at her with confusion and apprehension. "Are you picking me?" He asked softly, afraid of the answer.

"Yes," she said and turned around and walked out the door.

--

Chapter 7 - Decision

A distant part of her realized how thoroughly she embodied a walk of shame as she exited the room in which she had been with John. Her hair felt like a mess. Her makeup had to be pretty messed up. Her dress was wrinkled. She could feel some more of his cum dripping down her thighs as she walked rapidly toward Dr. Svetlack's office.

But she didn't care. She made her decision and she needed to deliver it before her resolve broke. She opened the door, startling the doctor, who was still at his desk with a pen in hand, pouring over charts.

"I'm sorry to barge in on you, Doctor," she spoke. "And I'm sorry I look like such a mess," she apologized.

"But I took your advice..." she stopped herself, realizing that was probably a massive overshare, in conjunction with her walk of shame appearance.

"And I choose John Farrow as my donor. When can you start my treatment?" She said, dearly hoping he would not make this any harder than it needed to be.

The doctor stood up and walked over to her. He looked a bit sad, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I'll start putting together the final paperwork," he said. "But I'm afraid you're going to have to sleep on it. The medical staff is already gone for the day."

She looked at the ground, not sure what she was expecting. "Thank you, doctor. You are a good man," she said, sadly.

He chuckled softly at her compliment. "I appreciate that, Felicity, but there's a lot of people that would disagree with you. Especially about this."

She looked up into his eyes defiantly. "Yeah, well, there's a lot of people that are fucking assholes," she said.

He looked at her for a long time, a confusing mix of emotions coming over him. "I genuinely wish there was an easier way to help you," he paused. "But I'm glad I'm able to do what I can."

He let a silence hang between them for a while, finally adding, "Come back up here at 8am tomorrow and we will go over the final papers."

"And just so you aren't surprised, due to the nature of the forms you're signing, we have to bring in a lawyer to help."

She could see that his excitement about the lawyer situation mirrored her own. She nodded unenthusiastically and turned to make her way back to her room.

"Good night, Felicity," the doctor said gently.

"Good night, doctor," she replied, wrenching open the door and walking to the elevator.

--

Chapter 7.5 - A Friend

When Trenton saw Felicity walking down the hall to her room, their eyes bulged, and an enormous smile spread across their lips. They rushed up to Felicity and said conspiratorially, "Felicity! It looks like you had way too much fun. How did it go?"

Felicity couldn't help but feel grateful to have a friend here that cared about her and was happy for the implications of her shame walk. She smiled at Trenton and told them, "Well, I felt some things... emotionally and physically... that I had no idea I could even feel."

Trenton gave her a strange look. "Like, good things?" They asked, concerned.

"Wonderful things," Felicity sighed, opening her door with the keycard and ushering Trenton inside.

"Don't tease me like that, Felicity, tell me what happened!" They squealed.

Felicity recounted the story to Trenton, which she found surprisingly fun. They gasped at the right times, asked the right questions, laughed at the right things, and generally made Felicity feel like she had a best friend for once in her life. It was unfortunate, she thought, that this feeling came on her very last night as a fully capable person, but she was thankful that it happened, nonetheless.

"You just... walked in and told him that?" Trenton asked when Felicity had finished. "I don't think anybody's ever done that before."

"Yep. I told him that I chose John and asked him when we could start," she confirmed

"Wow," they said, amazed. "I wish I was as brave as you."

Felicity didn't know what to say to that. She didn't feel brave. Just desperate. And now that she began to think about it, increasingly tired. She yawned, stretching on her bed.

"You must be exhausted," Trenton said. Where had this person been her whole life?

"Yeah. I wish I wasn't. But I imagine I probably want some decent sleep to prepare for whatever they're going to do to me tomorrow," she agreed

"Well, you're not wrong," they said, looking down at the bed. "I understand why you're doing the treatment, and I respect your choice, but it still makes me sad that this might be the last time that we might talk like this. I really like you, Felicity," they lamented.

Felicity couldn't help a tear falling out of her eye. Goddamnit. She didn't have a stellar track record of keeping herself under control today, and when she started crying, it was often very difficult to stop.

"I'm not exaggerating when I say you're the only person I know that has a chance of giving a fuck about it," Felicity said in a bittersweet tone. "Thank you for being such a good friend to me on my last day."

Trenton stood up and gave their friend a long, silent hug. "I knew from the moment you asked me about my pronouns that you were a good and decent person. I'm so sorry that life has been so unkind to you, Felicity. I hope that you find some peace in your new life with the sexy architect," they said, giving their friend a big smile with the last two words.

"Yeah..." She slipped into a tide of memories of all the lovely and terrifying things John had helped her to experience earlier, pausing for much longer than she intended. "... thanks. I'm sorry I never asked much about your life, Trenton. I wish we had more time so I could learn about you too. I promise I'm not usually this selfish," she began realizing how one-sided the conversations had always been and felt sad at it.

"Don't you worry about that for one second, Felicity," they said, "Today's a really special day for you. You deserve someone to listen to you and help you process it. I'm happy to do it."

The friends gave each other a final tight hug, bittersweet smiles on both of their lips, and simply nodded at one another when it was broken. There was really nothing left to say, and Felicity was finding it difficult to keep her eyes open.

"Have sweet dreams," Trenton said over their shoulder as they opened the door.

"Thanks," Felicity said, watching the door sadly until she heard it latch. Her dreams were usually far from sweet, but maybe there was a chance that tonight would be different.

She slipped out of her dress and lingerie and pulled out a more comfortable set of sleeping clothes from her backpack. She did a circle around the room, turning off all the lights she could find, before sliding into the sheets of her bed. Finally, she clicked off the light by the bed, and almost immediately lost consciousness into her pillow.

--

Chapter 8 - Death by Paperwork

The anxiety Felicity felt as she wrapped her fingers around the door handle of Dr. Svetlack's office the next morning was overriding. Her hand shook even as it pulled open the door, and it took every ounce of her considerable will to force herself to walk into the room.

For better or worse, the anxiety was flooded out by surprise when she saw that John was already in the room, along with Dr. Svetlack and an overdressed man that must have been the lawyer.

The doctor, seeing Felicity's face, walked over to her and began to gently guide her over to one of the chairs. "I realize now I should have explained that your donor would be here as well. I assumed that would be apparent, but you know what they say about assuming... I apologize if this is alarming, Felicity."

He had brought her to a plush char, which was one of four identical seats arranged in a circle around a low table. She sat down in the chair and sighed. "That's ok, Doctor, I'm glad he's here. It was just a little surprising."

She looked up at John, who was smiling down at her. If she had known he was going to be here, she would have worn something nicer. She began to feel a bit self-conscious at the comfortable but unflattering attire she had chosen, along with a bit of confusion about why she suddenly cared how she looked around him.

"Ms. Sloan," the third man addressed her, taking the seat opposite her, "my name is Reginald, but Tom is going to be referring to me as 'the blood sucking lawyer' for the duration of this meeting, so please feel free to do the same," he smiled at her, telegraphing the joke.

Tom? That must be Dr. Svetlack. Tom Svetlack, what a strange name.

"Well, uhm, in that case, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Blood Sucking Lawyer," she said, attempting to sound casual. "But please call me Felicity," she requested.

He nodded in acknowledgement, and a silence gripped the room for a moment. Felicity noticed an alarmingly large stack of paper arranged in front of the lawyer and began to wonder how long this was going to take.

Dr. Svetlack cleared his throat and began to explain, "Felicity, John, thank you for coming this morning. This is probably my least favorite part of the process, so believe me when I say that I wish there was a way to avoid or simplify all of this, but due to the nature of what we are undertaking here, I suppose it is inevitable that the lawyers insist on having a field day with the paperwork."

He glanced down at the papers and shook his head. "In any case, Felicity, the blood sucking lawyer here is going to walk you through all the final waivers and consent forms. He will explain as little or as much as you like, although there are certain things that he is obligated to spell out for you, so if you are uncertain about something, ask him."

"John, you are here because there are several legal distinctions that you must take on to formally become Felicity's guardian following treatment. Again, if you have questions, the blood sucker will be happy to answer them."

He cast his gaze between both of them to see if any questions waited in their eyes. When none were voiced, he turned to the lawyer and spoke. "Please, proceed Reginald."

Reginald thanked Dr. Svetlack, and turned to Felicity, pulling the top packet of papers from the stack, and pushing it across the table to her.

"Felicity, this is a disclosure document which is intended to ensure you are fully informed about the effects and results of this treatment. It is very common for anyone who has gotten this far in the process to have been forced to sit through recitations of these provisions by an array of well-meaning doctors, so there is a good chance you're aware of all or nearly all of them. However, we need you to initial the line next to every disclosure, indicating that you understand it, and sign the final page, indicating that you consent to proceed in full knowledge of the results."

Felicity began to pour over the disclosures, immediately reminded of the fateful meeting with the doctor that had finally referred her here. Everything he read to her that day was included here verbatim, but there were also many, many more. She scanned over them, initialing each one, looking for any new information that she might not already be aware of.

But at a certain point, she decided that having her head filled with the minute details of what was about to happen to her was not helpful, and she had enough information to make this decision without understanding every single aspect of it. She initialed the lines as quickly as she could until she reached the final page with its broad, inviting line for her signature. She signed it with an indulgently large rendition of her name, closed the packet, and slid it back to the lawyer.

"Very good. Next is what's called a Guardianship Contract. Felicity, there are some similar disclosures up front for you to review and sign, enumerating all the legal rights and freedoms that you are agreeing to waive for John to become your legal guardian. John, there are a set of binding agreements you will sign that enable criminal action against you if you neglect or abuse your power as guardian over Felicity. This contract also includes an agreement from both of you to submit to periodic, unannounced wellness checks at your residence to ensure the provisions of this contract are being met."

He slid the stack over to Felicity again and gave her a nod. She read over the provisions, making sure there was nothing she did not expect. When she had finished, she found nothing that surprised her, so she signed the paper and slid it over to John.

"This is a simple Medical Durable Power of Attorney document, giving John the power to make your medical decisions on your behalf," Reginald explained.

Felicity signed the document and gave it to John.

"This is a simple Will. It will ensure that any of your possessions or entitlements will pass to John upon your death, or to any beneficiary he deems more appropriate in the future," Reginald explained.

Felicity signed the document and gave it to John.

"We are nearing the last few items," Reginald explained. "But I'm afraid these are some of the least pleasant," he warned, ominously.

"Thanks to the lovely lawmakers of the state of Delaware, I am legally obligated to read this document out loud to you and have you sign in acknowledgement when I am finished," he paused and looked sadly at Felicity. "And I apologize in advance for having to be the conduit for this dross."

"Please do not do this. You are making a mistake. These people will mutilate your mind and make a mockery of your person. You are better than that. Life is worth living, and you don't need to mutilate yourself to be happy. There are alternatives available to you. Stop before it is too late. You will regret this for the rest of your life," he finished, a heavy sigh on his lips.

Felicity shook her head at the callous arrogance of it. "Did they happen to mention what any of the supposed alternatives might be?" She asked, teeth grit.

"No," Reginald said.

"So, they're just being trite, arrogant pricks?" She asked.

"Yes," Reginald answered.

"Then just give me that fucking paper," she growled.

Reginald handed the paper over, and she signed it as messily as possible. He took it back and applied the same level of care to his own part.

"Finally, we have the final consent to treatment, and waiver of liability," he said. "Thankfully, it does not re-hash every aspect of the treatment, but it does ask you to confirm that you have been made aware of the effects of the treatment, that you have been given ample opportunity to have your questions answered, that you have been provided with adequate resources in the pursuit of choosing a donor, that you have chosen this donor of your own free will and in full knowledge of the ways in which the donor will wield power over you, and finally that you waive any claim you may have against the program, in the event things do not turn out as intended."

Felicity held out her hand, eyebrows raised, ready to get this over with. She took the paper from the lawyer and initialed all the provisions in rapid fire, coming to the final signature page and penning the most important lines of ink of her entire life. Her very last, lucid choice. She dropped the pen and let that sink in, leaning back into the cushion and closing her eyes.

When she opened them, she found that the doctor was standing over her.

"I know that was a lot, I apologize again. But it's over now. Are you ready to begin?" He held out his hand and waited for her to respond.

She froze. One last chance to run. This was it. Signing papers was one thing, but physically walking into the treatment area was all too real.

"Will it hurt?" She said, almost child-like. So, what if it hurt? Life hurt. Why did she even ask?

"You will be unconscious for the first phase, and there is nothing painful about the second phase," he assured her.

"Can I say goodbye to Trenton?" She asked.

The doctor smiled at her. "Of course, Felicity," he walked back over to his desk and pressed a button.

A few minutes later, Trenton walked in the door. They looked a little alarmed at the two strange men that looked back at them, but mostly their eyes were drawn to their friend, a mess of black hair in the chair facing away from them. Felicity heard the door open and turned around to see them.

She shot to her feet and gave Trenton a big hug.

"I'm going in for treatment now, Trenton. I just wanted to say one more time how much I appreciated you, before... you know," she said. "Thank you."

Trenton hugged her tightly, rubbing her back as she did. "It was my pleasure to help you. I hope you find peace in your new life."

Then Trenton's eyes fell onto John. They broke the hug and looked into Felicity's eyes whispering, "Is that him? He's gorgeous!" They giggled.

Felicity could do little but nod her head in agreement.

She looked at the doctor, took a deep breath, and told him, "I am ready now, doctor."