My mind has been having a battle with itself for weeks, giving me fierce migraines. I haven't been able to get enough sleep, which only added to my newfound irritability. I haven't gotten much work done on any of my projects as of late. My mind keeps wandering and distracting me. So far, I've had two close calls during patrol due to my lack of concentration.

I never should have played with those blood samples. I did what my youngest brother Michelangelo does on a regular basis and read too much into something that would have been better off not known.

It was just a simple physical. Ever since we started dealing with more serious enemies, Master Splinter has insisted that we all have them every month. Not that I'm complaining. With the extraterrestrial encounters we've had and the advanced weaponry our foes have been developing, its become vital to maintain a constant surveillance over our health, both mentally and physically.

Normally when I'm cleaning up the medbay after the physicals, I sterilize all the equipment, throw away disposals, and destroy the blood samples after I do my usual analysis. Nothing too complicated, just a quick look to make sure that our blood is as normal as a mutant turtle's blood could be. I don't know what possessed me to look deeper into the samples, but once I started running more advanced tests, there was no stopping me. I was just so curious to truly understand the mutation, who my brothers and I were.

Curiosity may not have killed me, but its come pretty damn close. The DNA tests had not been as quick as I had hoped. I only wanted to compare our genetic makeup to that of a normal red-eared slider turtle. I guess it could have been avoided had I not just shoved readings to the side so carelessly, too emersed in my own world to understand the can of theoretical worms I had just opened. It wasn't until I was cleaning afterwards that I noticed it. It was Leonardo and Michelangelo's DNA charts. I was surprised with what I found as I read them together and quickly picked up Raphael's and my own.

As I read, I began to believe more and more that I had just been hit by a bus.

My brothers and I aren't related.

I hate to say that I was more shocked than I should have been. The probability that the rundown pet shop we were purchased from had bought hatchlings that were all from the same clutch was astronomical.

We didn't really even look that much alike. Sure, we're all anthropomorphic turtles with more human characteristics than reptiles, but our turtle features were different. Our height, our skin tone, our body shape. Hell, even our age.

Now, don't misunderstand me. Discovering that my brothers are not my brothers by blood did not make me love them any less. It made me love them more, in fact. Much more. More than a brother should.

I would be lying to you if I said I had never once had even a thought of developing a relationship with one of my brothers beyond that of brotherly affection. I just never gave it more attention because of the possible blood we share. Even though we are animals, I still hold some human moral.

However, the news of my recent findings did not help me exactly push those feelings down. Many times I would be eating in the kitchen with Mikey when I would stop and stare as he smiled. More than once I had lost myself in Leo's eyes as we would spar in the dojo. Many times my eyes lingered over Raph's rippling muscles as I spotted him as he lifted weights.

I tried so many times to convince myself to stop this madness, to force myself to leave the matter alone. But after many sleepless nights with only vague, rather adult dreams, I looked up at the ceiling with a conclusion.

I wanted my brothers.

When I say want, I don't mean just in the romantic sense. I want to wake up surrounded by them. I want to share my deepest and most intimate thoughts with them. I want to make a commitment to them.

But I also want to belong to them. I want to feel Raphael's strong arms bending me to his will. I dream of Leonardo's fit legs coiling around my waist. I crave to taste Michelangelo's sweet tongue. I've lost count of how many nights and early mornings I've been greeted with a very hard and growing problem between my legs, forcing me to recount a certain kata where my brothers had to kick a bit higher or bend over a little bit further.

As the weeks turned into months, my fantasies became more demanding and kinky. I dreamed of a leather collar around my neck connected to a leash that my brothers would walk me around with. I call them all Master. And when I behave, I'm fucked roughly and like a toy.

I've purchased and created more toys for myself than I care to admit. They filled a whole portion of my closet that I kept under lock and key so Mikey wouldn't accidentally discover them. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't dreamt of Mikey finding them and using them on me, but the obvious shock and disgust I would receive in reality always pushed the thought away.

I know that my brothers don't want me. Based on relationships of their past, I knew they didn't even want other males in that sense. I've come to accept that.

But I can still dream.