Chapter Five: Animal Testing
AN: Oh my gosh! Loving all the fun messages and I'm just blown away by the reception for this story. Though there's going to be some dark times, be assured, it's going to go well for our shelled heroes. Just, trust me to take you on this journey. I'm both humbled and honored of all the positive feedback I've gotten. All signed reviews and messages have been answered and updated.
HUGE THANK YOU to AlexLuke, for chats and feedback on my page. I appreciate all the time, thought, and yes, even the con crit. Feedback helps me to mold a better story and deliver the best possible story for my audience.
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Donnie groaned, rolling onto his side and teetering for a moment before his small eyes snapped open in alertness. Usually, he slept in the partial culvert at the lair close to his main computer bank. It wasn't often Donnie slept, but when he did, he preferred his shell to be cradled in the curve of the half pipe that served as his bed for a couple of years.
As the brothers got older, they began to separate, finding their own rooms for privacy and space. Though Donnie still preferred the comfortable curve of the half pipe.
But the bed on which he woke now was flat. It was well padded, thank goodness, as his shell tend to dig into materials and was known to be quite sharp. There were also a couple of pillows tossed about him. Blinking rapidly he tried to clear his vision but it was to no avail. His eyes would forever need refracted assistance.
The light overhead became a little brighter, signally the start of a new day.
A new day in captivity.
Oh, how Donnie loathed that word and its implications.
But he must remain cool. Let his intellect work and then when it was time, spring his trap and get the shell out of here!
Dread filled his shell as the door hissed open. He rose to sit on the edge, no longer self conscious about his nudity, and noticed three white clad humans enter, flanked by four black clad humans. Their clothing identified them easily.
The ones in white were scientists. The ones clad in black were security guards.
Feigning meekness, Donnie held out his arm. "Do you need blood?"
"Yes," came a shocked female voice in white. She came forward, slowly at first, no doubt sizing up the giant talking turtle sitting on the edge of his bed, squinting in her direction. "I have a case of supplies I'm going to sit down beside you."
No doubt she realized he was blind and needed a verbal account of what was going on. Probably fearing his reaction if she touched him without warning.
Donnie put on a boyish grin, which was easy, given his usually friendly nature. "Tourniquet, syringe, needle, and color coded tops."
"Yes," she said, relaxing a little as she removed the items and checked his arm for a vein. He had good veins and was an easy stick. She wasn't sure how'd she get a sample if she had to find a vein amongst the green skin.
"Little prick,' she said before jabbing the needle into his arm.
Donnie held still, trying to make out her features, but without his glasses, she was merely a pink and brown mottled blob veiled by white. Hoping to ease her misgivings, he formally introduced himself.
"I'm Donnie. But you can call me Don if you want. I don't mind."
Her smile was evident in her voice. "Thank you, Don." She snapped off the tourniquet and turned, nearly bumping into the two armed men who had followed her to take blood samples.
The two bodies came forward, immediately flanked by two black clad soldiers. Donnie squinted at the quartet. He could make out the short dark hair of both men in lab coats, but the soldiers were completely encased in black.
He asked the two in lab coats, "Do you need samples, too?"
"Yeah," a deep male voice said. He held up a cup but Donnie was unable to see it.
Donnie held out his arm, thinking they were going to get blood, but the other person, another male, spoke. "We require urine and stool samples."
"Oh," Donnie said, dropping his arm and feeling distinctly hot around the face. He wondered if they realized he was blushing. "Uhmm," he squirmed uncomfortably, "I don't have the urge to go. Empty tanks. If you set the specimen containers by the toilet, I can collect samples when I have the urge to go."
He prayed they didn't want to shove anything up his tail. Not only would it be extremely painful, but it wouldn't reap benefit. His anatomy didn't work that way. Couldn't get a sample when the tanks were empty. No matter how much they'd shove, poke, and dig around.
"I'm hungry, so breakfast would definitely help the process," Donnie put in, hoping the moving black shapes weren't going into position to restrain him for exploratory sampling. "Oh, and coffee. Don't forget the coffee!"
"Can't tap an empty keg," one of the men grunted knowingly. He retrieved another kind of cup from his pocket, this one much larger than the samples for urine and stool.
"We require your DNA."
Donnie opened his mouth, thinking they were gong to swab it, but one of the men chuckled.
"Not that way. You need to jerk off in this cup. Mr. Point wants every bit of data on you we can collect, and we're not going to leave anything unobserved."
Donnie was definitely blushing now. Thank goodness his green skin only went a shade darker. Only those who knew him well could tell when he was blushing.
"Uhmm, I'm afraid that's impossible," Donnie lied, distinctly anxious with the request and the men standing so close. There was no way he was going to extend his cock and cum in a cup. Blood, urine, and feces were fine, but he drew the line on that sample.
Thinking quickly he explained, "Turtles don't have the ability to mate at will like humans. We can't get erections without a female in heat."
Total bullshit.
But those men didn't need to know Donnie had a healthy, if not active, libido.
"Without the scent of a female, there is nothing I can do to assist you in gathering such a sample." Donnie motioned to his limp tail to emphasize his point.
"Nothing?" one the men asked, dumbfounded. "You mean… you can't jerk off?"
Donnie wasn't going to tell his habits to this strange man, but he lied fluently. "I may have some human characteristics, but I am still a turtle. Mating is only possible during autumn, and there must be a willing female to initiate the mating process."
"Man, that sucks," one of the men breathed. "It's a wonder you're not stark raving mad."
"Why?" Donnie was now genuinely curious as to why the man would make such a strange diagnosis.
"Because, if you don't get laid, even if you self service, you go crazy," the man explained as if it was common knowledge.
"Really?" Donnie asked in childlike wonder. Though he had yet to run across any scientific data supporting the theory that mental instability correlates with lack of sexual activity, he pretended to buy into the man's words. "You can go crazy? Is that a human thing? Male? Or can females go crazy, too?"
"Chicks are always crazy, you ask me," the other guy mumbled.
There was a murmur of agreement from the security guards, who had become lax upon finding a completely docile and apparently naive prisoner. They exchanged looks of sadness and shock upon realizing the turtle lacked the ability to find sexual release.
"What do you want to eat?" one of the scientists asked.
"I love pop tarts!" Donnie exclaimed with enthusiasm. He hoped they would get off the subject of his sexual practices. Thankfully, the discussion involving food was a much needed reprieve. He grinned goofily, "I know I shouldn't eat it, but I also love bacon. Probably clogged up my arteries, but it tastes too good to resist."
"Amen to that," one of the guards quipped.
"We'll see. Jane will run your blood work. Be interesting to find out what's flowing through your veins," the scientist continued, placing the two smaller specimen cups on the back of the toilet and explaining their location to Donnie to use when ready.
Donnie promised to provide the requested samples. He was eager to find out what his blood work showed. He had run basic tests on himself and his family, but lacked the proper diagnostic machinery to give a more in-depth analysis.
Well, sort of. He had stolen some nice diagnostic equipment from Eric Sacks, but had yet to use them. Course, he wasn't going to tell his captors this.
Another person entered the room and boldly strode up to Donnie, grabbing his hand and slapping down a familiar set of frames. "Here."
Donnie fumbled with his glasses and put them on, blinking at the surrounding humans. His face lit up as he glanced about, finally able to take in his captors and prison. He played the part of a naïve prisoner, curious to everything around him. Secretly, Donnie was assessing the men's bodies for weaknesses and gauging their abilities in combat.
Their weapons were of little concern, considering they'd work best in a distant battle. But up close, they were more apt to engaging in hand to hand, which Donnie was quite sure he could easily overcome.
But until then, he must play the fool.
"Can you see us now?" one of the scientist asked, observing Donnie's expression.
"Yes." Donnie beamed happily.
"Dude,' one of the soldier muttered, shaking his head. "Blind and limp dicked. Should just shoot the poor bastard and be done with it."
One of the other soldiers gave his comrade a dirty look.
The man who gave Donnie's glasses back held up the control box. "You going to come quietly."
Donnie nodded meekly. He wasn't entirely embellishing his trembling when he eased himself off the bed and awaited orders. With a buzz, his wrist slammed together, ensuring he didn't lash out.
"Follow me," the man said curtly, whirling and marching from the room.
Donnie hung his head and did as instructed. Though he pretended to stare at the floor, his eyes examined everything around him, from the height of the walls, to the spaced doorways, and the general lack of frenzied activity normally found at a research station.
If anything, the place felt… hollow.
A tomb.
The scientist led the entourage down the hall to the door on the left and opened it. "Here."
Donnie found himself in a room bisected down the middle by a thick glass partition. The scientist pointed to one side and barked. "Sit down."
Donnie did as told, shuffling uncomfortably on the chair. The cold steel made his tail shrink, but he made due. The scientist sat opposite, behind the glass. There was a screen inlaid into the white tabletop. It flickered on, drawing Donnie's attention.
"We're going to start with a memory test," the scientist said.
Donnie played along, pretending to be excited about the test. Two soldiers took up flanking position by the door, their fingers on triggers in case of trouble. The scientist that had been with them in Donnie's room joined their counterpart, observing over the man's shoulder as he began to flash pictures in sequence on the screens and commanded Donnie to recite the order.
Though the pictures were mere blinks on the screen, Donnie's keen eyes and mind mentally recorded the images. When he recalled what he saw, he intentionally left out half of the images. Feigning eagerness, Donnie perked up.
"Did I do well?" he asked excitedly, pretending to crave attention and affirmation.
"Not too shabby," the scientist admitted. The two behind him gave nods of agreement.
The memory tests lasted an hour. When they finished, Donnie goaded, "How'd I do?"
"You did very well," the scientist confirmed, motioning for Donnie to get up and follow him. The guards at the door eyed him critically, poised to tame the turtle if he stepped out of line.
Donnie merrily lumbered behind the scientist, following him across the hall where two doctors were waiting next to what was unmistakably gym equipment. There were also machines ready to be hooked up to record Donnie's vitals. Keeping up his ruse as a dumb prisoner, Donnie picked up one of the leads for the heart monitor.
"Cool."
The guards shared a glance, rolling their eyes. The scientists weren't deterred though. One yanked the lead from the curious turtle and pointed to the treadmill.
"Get on and we'll hook you up."
Donnie did as told, waiting patiently while they attached leads to his chest, around his shell, and on his head. He laughed comically. "Will I be able to get satellite transmissions now?"
"Maybe later," one of the scientists promised darkly. He nodded to the guard that held the control box.
Donnie's wrists separated, granting him the ability to hold onto the rails while he was put through the rigorous tests. He grasped the bars, making sure to keep up his jovial, boyish, naive charm. He yelped in surprise as the treadmill began to move. He tried not to concentrate on the fact his tail was bouncing a little and though it was embarrassing, his father DID instill a sense of modesty and self respect, he had to admit, it felt freeing without the constraints of clothes.
After a couple of minutes, the doctor increased the speed and incline, forcing Donnie into a speed walk. Not wanting his captors to know the extent of his stamina or training, he panted, clasping the stabilizing bars tighter as the doctor continued to increase the difficulty.
Five minutes later, Donnie was out of breath, his vitals showing dangerously high numbers
"Can't…," Donnie wheezed at one of the doctors. "Can't go….. Too…. much."
Though it was going to hurt, Donnie intentionally stumbled, flying backward off the treadmill. The leads snapped free as he went skidding along the floor, slamming into the wall from the momentum. He lay, chest heaving, limbs lanky and immobile, struggling to catch his breath. Soldiers hovered above him, but were lax on their weapons as they took in the struggling mutant.
Donnie wasn't to be given a long reprieve. One of the scientist growled, "Get him up! We're not done yet!"
Donnie was hoisted up by the two soldiers and dragged back to the treadmill, where the doctor wasted no time in replacing the monitors. Hoping to appeal to the man's sense of logic, Donnie spoke, though making sure to embellish his shaky limbs.
"I can't go fast," he pleaded. "I'm a turtle, remember? Can't handle speed."
The doctor grunted at the plausible excuse and finished attaching the leads. "Back on. We'll do half speed."
"Can I take some time to rest?" Donnie asked, glaring down the treadmill and bowing from exhaustion.
The scientists were gathered around the monitors, going over the vitals they obtained thus far.
"We'll check stamina next," one assured his colleagues, seemingly oblivious to Donnie's physical condition.
Donnie didn't have a chance to make any more pleas as the treadmill began to move again, though it was at a more sedate pace.
Long limbs began to move, pumping out an even rhythm as he marched, making sure to watch the time and adjust his act of exhaustion accordingly. Thanks to visits to the hashi, Donnie was quite familiar with tests of endurance.
Watching the clock, Donnie made sure to show signs of fatigue within fifteen minutes. He hoped the scientists took his exhaustion as a sign of weakness and took pity. Sadly, they weren't so easily swayed.
Ignoring Donnie's labored breathing and elevated heart rate and blood pressure, they kept him on the treadmill for two hours, only stopping the experiment when Donnie stumbled and fell off the machine, too weak to stand any longer. The doctors tittered between themselves, scribbling notes and discussing the readouts they had collected. Judging by their dark looks, they weren't happy with Donnie's results.
"Take him back to his room,' one of the doctor muttered absently, eyes intent on the turtles bio statistics during the experiment.
One of the soldiers kicked Donnie in the side, growling, "Get up, weakling."
Donnie's arms and legs shook as he rolled on his shell, slow to gain his feet. He struggled to get up, his performance worthy of an award.
"One false move and I'll put a bullet in your head," the guard purred before looping Donnie's arm over his shoulder and helping the turtle down the hall to his room.
"I'm not a violent person," Donnie said, leaning heavily on his human crutch. "I believe in peaceful negotiations and alternative solutions to violence."
"Spoken like a true pacifist," the soldier muttered, half tossing Donnie onto his bed. He nodded toward the tray that was on the edge of the bed. "Eat up. You still have a lot of tests to do today."
"Joy,' Donnie muttered irritably.
His hand shook as he reached for a pop tart. He crammed the whole thing in his mouth without bothering to watch the soldiers leave, the door whooshing shut behind them. Keeping up his appearance as a weakling, Donnie took his time eating, taking great care to emphasize his shaky limbs and need for rest.
The appreciation for the steaming cup of coffee was genuine.
Though he was far from tired, he remained immobile on his bed, curling up on his side facing the wall. He was never good at meditation, his mind always too active to settle, but he tried, taking deep cleansing breaths.
Randomly, equations and variables popped into his head, but he shoved them aside, focusing on gathering his strength to make his escape when the opening became available.
His respite didn't last long.
Two hours later the door opened. Donnie pretended to be asleep, though his senses were on high alert. The cold muzzle of a gun nudged his shoulder.
"Hey, turtle! Get up!" A gruff male voice barked.
Donnie faked a jolt of awareness, rolling over and yawning widely. "It is morning? Already?"
The guards scoffed, grabbing Donnie by his thin arm and hauling him to his feet.
"You've only been here a day, wuss."
"Where we going?" Donnie asked, jostled between two arm soldiers. Two more stood at the doorway.
"Time for some more tests." One of the guards standing by the door grunted, an evil smirk on his face. He gave Donnie a hard shove through the door, yanking painfully on the turtles' shell and causing Donnie to whimper in legitimate pain.
Donnie was steered back to the room with the treadmill, only this time, they placed him at a weight machine, pushing him onto the bench and making him grab the bar.
"Start with 100," a doctor ordered, clipboard in hand, eyes intent upon Donnie's prone form.
Donnie shifted the bar, noting both sides sported at least two hundred pound weights. Though he was stronger than the average person, he wasn't that strong! He tried, and failed, to lift the bar out of the grooves. A couple more attempts and he glared in open hostility to the doctor observing the exercise.
"How about taking off some of the weights so I can actually lift the stupid thing?"
The doctor growled, scribbling away on his clipboard. One of the guards fixed the weights, making them 100 lbs on each side.
"Thanks," Donnie said, earning a curt nod in response.
Donnie pressed ten times before returning the weights to the slot.
"I said 100," the doctor snapped irritably.
"Nine more sets to go," Donnie corrected, earning a twisted sneer from the doctor.
Apparently the man had a sour disposition. Whether he wanted to hurry the test along, or was unimpressed by Donnie's results, the doctor held up a control box to emphasize his request.
Donnie took a deep breath and began lifting the weights. He noticed a twinge on the 70th press, and by the time he counted off 100, his arms were shaking for real. He made to get up, but the doctor stopped him.
"100 more."
Donnie's jaw nearly hit the floor. "Are you serious? I can barely lift my arms the way it is!"
The man thumbed the button that would send electricity through Donnie's body, making the turtle comply.
Donnie got into position again and lifted the weights from their notches and began to count off. He barely made it to twenty before his arms buckled, dropping the 200lbs across his plastron. He grunted from the impact, trying to dislodge the weight but was unable.
"Little help?" Donnie gasped, struggling under the pressure across his chest.
The guards made no effort to assist the turtle. Disgusted by them, Donnie used his body as a fulcrum and shoved the weights off. They landed with a resounding clang on the floor, breaking several of the tiles.
"Idiot!" the doctor hissed, slamming his thumb onto the button.
Donnie barely caught his breath when the jolt raced through his nerves. The setting was minimal, but it was still enough to knock his senses askew. He convulsed off the bench and fell to the floor, shaking and twitching, his teeth gnashing together.
"Try again!" The Doctor commanded.
Still twitching, Donnie tried to move, but was unable to steady himself upright. He flopped one way, then another, dizzily grasping at the bench for support, but it was no use. His senses were knocked completely out of whack.
"Might have been too strong for him, doc," one of the guards said, realizing the turtle was unable to comply with the doctor's wishes.
"Again!" The doctor shrieked vehemently at the downed turtle.
"Trying," Donnie muttered, pulling himself onto the bench and half dragging himself across its surface.
"Maybe he's had enough?" The other guard eyed his companion. "Point won't like it if you break his toy before he's had a chance to do it."
The doctor hissed through gritted teeth, contemplating the wisdom of the guard's words.
"He's not human, remember?" The guard added, nudging Donnie's foot with his boot. "He's still an animal. Not very strong one, either."
"Fine!" The doctor spat, jerking his head toward the discarded weights. "Pick it up and put it back before you take him to his cell."
Both guards looked affronted. "Not your lackey, Doc. Do it yourself."
The guards nudged Donnie with the cold tip of their guns to remind him not to try anything funny, then hoisted him up off the bench, half dragging him down the hall to his room.
They didn't bother placing him on his bed this time.
They deposited him, none to gently, onto the floor and exited as fast as they could, leaving Donnie face down on the cold white tile of his prison.
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