CONTENT WARNING: Attempted rape/non-con
Tamara cleared her throat. "Would it be possible for Roger to get a new cot? His has broken down completely."
"I'll see to it."
"Thank you. And there was something else."
The doctor continued laying out surgical instruments onto a wheeled tray while Tamara watched. When no further explanation followed, he finally looked up to see her standing awkwardly, worrying the ring on her finger. The expression on her face he mentally translated as "extremely embarrassed."
"Yes?" he asked, drawing out the word as an encouragement to continue.
"It was my fault. I mean, actually, we broke the bed."
"I see."
Using a tweezers, he fished out a small electronic chip from a shallow container of clear fluid. Holding it up into the overhead light, Dok turned it this way and that to check for cracks or other deformities.
"I… We didn't hurt the baby, did we?"
Dok exhaled a particularly long sigh as he set the chip onto a paper towel, then tried to remove the condescension from his next words.
"It is highly improbable that intercourse, however lively, would harm a growing fetus. Do you need me to explain that further?"
"Ah, no. You're not upset, though?"
"Why should I be? I assume you at least enjoyed yourselves." He looked up again briefly from his sorting to take in her wrinkled clothing.
Tamara shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then smoothed the front of her dress as if she had read his mind.
"Looks like you have a surgery today."
"Appendectomy. Does that cover all of your questions? I am extremely busy and short on time."
"Okay, sorry. I was just passing by and thought it was important." She turned and started heading for the door.
"Next time you can just page me."
"Got it!" She was halfway across the room now.
"But do let me know if there's blood!" he yelled at the last moment, right as the door clicked shut into place behind her.
"Did she hear me?" he asked aloud. "Why does the Major have to open the door to these indiscretions? A big nuisance, if you ask me."
Truthfully, he was in a good mood. With his commander over the moon and delighted with the progress thus far, Dok had gained a little bit of breathing space. Of course the pregnancy could still fail at some point requiring him to begin anew, but human cloning was a proven thing now. He would impregnate her a hundred times if it came to that.
Dok's appointment for that evening arrived right on time. This one was late twenty-something, flushed, and seemed a touch giddy.
"And what brings you in here today?" Dok asked as he folded over a page on a wooden clipboard. "Ah, the appendectomy."
The man laughed nervously.
"Uhh, well no. My number came up for the project."
He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a folded slip of pink paper. Stretching out his arm, he held it out to the doctor.
Dok said nothing and did not move to take the offered object.
The corporal's smile all but disappeared and he pulled the paper back quickly. Opening it, he scanned the text.
"Did I make a mistake? It is the eighteenth, isn't it? I was so sure…"
"At ease," Dok said, snatching the paper away. "It was a jest. Shirt and footwear in that bin there. I'll be with you in a few minutes."
"Oh," the man said with a relieved, perhaps forced laugh. "Shirt, shoes, got it." The nervous smile returned and with a bob of his head he moved to comply with the order.
After years of performing the same procedure endlessly, Dok had to break up the routine somehow. But clearly his attempts at humor were as lackluster as ever.
Even after a few months, it was still a little hard to believe she was pregnant. Tamara might have convinced herself that the obnoxious side effects were just due to the doctor's typical interventions. Maybe it was because she felt no emotions about what might be growing inside of her. If there really was a living being there, what would be the point in having feelings for something that would just be taken away anyway?
Still, if carrying the baby to term could earn her and Roger their freedom, then she was going to follow all the instructions and help to keep the thing alive. Freakish clone or not.
For what it was worth, since becoming pregnant Tamara had found that the circumstances of her captivity had continued to improve. Roger especially appreciated the intimate moments they shared whenever she was allowed into his cell. Even her relationship with Dok had mellowed until she saw him more as an ill-mannered teacher who gave out annoying assignments rather than a tormenting jailer. She had become somewhat bolder lately in her requests to him and was rarely denied. Today she had asked for blank paper and Dok had sent her away with an entire ream of it.
Journaling wasn't exactly her pace, and Tamara didn't want to chance someone reading her inner thoughts, but drawing seemed harmless enough. She didn't consider herself much of an artist, but at least it would give her something constructive to do to pass the days.
Sitting cross-legged on her own cot, she set a few pages of the fresh paper on top of one of the German language books.
"Hello?"
Tamara thought she had heard the door handle rattle for just an instant as if someone were testing it. Listening carefully and hearing no other knocks or sounds, she decided it must have been her imagination.
For about a half an hour Tamara worked. She started simply, trying to copy and enlarge the flowers from the cover of her daily planner. The shading could use some work, she thought, but the results were adequate for a first attempt after such a long hiatus from drawing.
So pretty!
"Would I be able to have some colored pencils?" Tamara hesitantly said aloud, as if practicing how to ask for something trivial.
Oh yes, you must have those if you are to improve at all!
The ever-cheerful voice of the woman called Rip Van Winkle was still a source of solace or feedback when she was alone. Tamara was just careful to make sure that no one ever caught her speaking to someone who wasn't there.
"You don't suppose that Dok..? Oh nevermind, he wouldn't have something like that lying around anyway."
Well, it never hurts to ask. He's been pretty nice to you lately.
"Nice to me? Don't make me laugh. Maybe he's less grumpy than usual."
If it bothers you so much, why don't you ask Heinrich instead? I'll bet he has a hidden talent for art.
That seemed like an unusual suggestion to come from her subconscious. Maybe there was some truth to it, some hint that she had failed to notice at the time.
"Eh, he'd just go to Dok for permission first anyway. Ugh."
As was becoming all too common, she had to urinate again. At least the daily nausea had subsided when she reached the third month of pregnancy, but there was always something.
Getting up and unlocking the door, she marched straight into the bathroom.
Two men in cloth face masks were waiting inside.
Other than her body tensing and a small gasp of surprise, Tamara didn't really get a chance to react before she was grabbed by the arms and pushed backwards. The men were prepared and she had been caught off her guard completely. By the time she realized it was an attack, they had already managed to get her back into her room.
This was bad. There wasn't time to think, only to fight.
Tamara screamed bloody murder and flailed her arms at her attacker's face, hoping to claw at his eyes, which were visible through crudely cut holes in the black fabric. He managed to deflect the counterattack, though, by grabbing her forearms and all her movements were rendered useless. It seemed a long while that the two of them struggled in this way before a beefy arm encircled her throat from behind, strangling her screams effectively.
"Okay, Miss America. Stay real quiet if you don't want to get hurt."
Tamara's hands instinctively moved to pull at the offending arm around her neck. The silent man in front of her managed to keep her nails from doing more than grazing the other's black-clothed arm.
"Nope, that's not the way this works," he continued, his grip tightening and causing her to choke. "You're gonna hold still while my friend does his thing."
He released just enough tension for her to breathe again.
"Baby! There's a baby!" she gasped, hoping to dissuade the strangers from whatever it was they were about to do.
The smaller man stepped back suddenly as if burned, letting go of her arms.
"Das Baby? You are pregnant?"
Tamara nodded vigorously. The man behind her started to laugh, but the other hissed at him to be silent.
"Ein moment! You, why does Herr Doktor keep you here?"
Tamara tried to think of the best lie she could come up with.
"It's his baby! We-we're in a relationship."
The man scoffed and, lowering his eyes, shook his head.
"No, really! He's very jealous and he'll come after you if you hurt me."
"Wie ein scherz! Ha, you know, I almost believe her," the bigger man keeping her in a chokehold said. "But let me tell you bitches will say anything. This one's probably still a virgin." He stroked her cheek playfully with his free hand.
Never in her life had a human touch been so repulsive and made her want to jump out of her skin like this. Even her pores seemed to be rejecting the feel of the gloved hands and she would have done literally anything to make them stop touching her. Turning her head to the side in disgust, she wished she could just abandon her body completely and feel nothing ever again.
Her mind floated briefly to the pager which was resting in its usual spot beside her cot. It was much too late now to do anything about it, especially once she was effectively restrained with her wrists behind her.
There really wasn't anything to do but pray it would all be over quickly, one way or another.
Virgin or not, Ernst was going to enjoy this encounter. Regardless of what the stories said, he knew the blood would taste the same.
As planned, Gunther kept her still while he worked. She was wearing a plain, rather unattractive dress as she always had in the mess hall, but fortunately this one had buttons down the front which ended at the waist. He started to unbutton from the top, but quickly abandoned that idea when he found his hands were too shaky from excitement and ended up popping them all at once with a firm, swift movement.
Such healthy and smooth skin, he thought as he wrestled her sleeves down her arms.
He slid his hand up the flesh, starting at the left elbow. A shame that he had to wear the damn gloves, but he knew better than to risk leaving fingerprints for someone to find and potentially trace back to him. That was, assuming anyone even cared what happened here. The doctor had never seemed like the type to show concern for his subjects or to keep them alive for very long.
Hilarious to imagine that Dok would ever have a lover. Later on they would probably have a few good laughs over that. He quickly moved the brassiere strap covering her left shoulder out of the way, then drew his knife.
He had decided months ago where he was going to make the cut. The neck would have been ideal and the most poetic, but the chance of hitting an artery was too risky with his imperfect knowledge of anatomy. The shoulder would be close enough and should bleed an acceptable amount. He only hesitated long enough to draw a determined breath before sliding the blade across her shoulder.
She cried out through the gag which was only partially effective at stifling the sound. Gunther covered her mouth with a hand to quiet her further and made more than a few condescending shushing sounds into her ear.
The cut wasn't as clean as he would have liked, but the sight was nonetheless beautiful with the red dripping down the white. It took all of his willpower to calmly wipe off and sheathe the knife before diving into the feast.
It had been everything he had imagined, and yet nothing like he had imagined.
At last Ernst released the young woman and stumbled backwards until his back hit the door. Her muffled screams and struggles as Gunther manhandled her to the cot barely registered as he slouched into the door, his knees weak. The euphoria was overwhelming.
He'd never actually forced himself on a female before. If she hadn't been the idiomatic "only girl in town" he wouldn't have even given her a second look. She didn't have the best legs and rear end, didn't have the overwhelming sex appeal dripping off of her. He'd previously relied on his cleverness and the promise of a unique time in order to get a girl to his apartment. A lot of kisses and wheedling in exchange for a little blood-letting, probably from a finger or maybe an arm if he was lucky. Usually, they wouldn't want to see him again after that and he'd have to move on.
But this had been different. There was no awkward conversation and girlish giggling. He had all the power and she could do nothing but cry and moan pathetically. He liked that dynamic. It made him feel powerful, oh so powerful, and completely in control of his own destiny.
Maybe asses weren't all that important, after all.
He wiped at his mouth subconsciously then noticed the blood on his glove. Boy, he could get used to this.
Looking up, he saw the girl kicking her legs uselessly beneath the big man. The scene barely registered, even though he'd never witnessed someone being raped before. Gunther seemed to have a handle on the situation and did not appear to need his assistance.
What a pro.
Ernst might not have noticed the knocks if he hadn't been leaning on the door. That pulled him back to reality.
"Quiet a second!" he hissed.
"What's going on?" His friend turned back to look at him while the girl whimpered quietly.
The knocking resumed, louder and more frantic.
"Shit," Gunther whispered, standing and adjusting his trousers. "Fucking good timing, too."
"You know what to do," Ernst said quietly and evenly.
The knocking stopped and they heard the sound of a key scraping against metal as if in frantic search of a lock.
Ernst flicked the lights off just in time before the door flew open.