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Jared wakes the same way he's woken up for the previous three days – blindfolded and tied face-down on some kind of padded leather bench designed to keep him ass-up. His legs are bent and spread wide, cuffed next to his ass. His arms are cuffed to the front legs of the bench. His mouth is trapped open behind an o-ring gag, now crusty with layers of dried spit and semen. And like each of the last three days, Jared doesn't wake up alone. He wakes with his throat and his ass full of alpha cock, his jaw and sphincter stretched open around the large swollen knots of his captors as they growl and thrust away. Since his abduction from the car park, since he woke up here, Jared's focus has narrowed down to those two parts of his body, lips and ass, and the salty, slightly bitter taste spurting down his throat and into his intestines like clockwork every hour.

There are words, too, words and mutters and moans that Jared tries to tune out, but which keep worming their way into his subconscious… good omega, good bitch, so open now, made to take it, that's a good bitch, take that knot, so wet, so hungry for cock, you just can't help yourself now can you? They writhe around inside his head like sinister caresses. He hates himself a little more each time the praise gives him an unwanted thrill of comfort.

Alpha kidnappings and omega turnings are things that happen to other people. Not him.

My name is Jared, he reminds himself. I'm 22. I have two hamsters and a snake, and my fiancé Chris will be looking for me. I just have to hold on until he finds me. I am pre-med and I am going to be a doctor so I can help people. I am human.

After the first day, the alphas began to rotate his position every few hours, flipping him onto his back or front. He still tries to struggle for the few minutes his tired, half-numb limbs are freed, but two of the first things the process stripped from him were his strength and his ability to resist the direct command of an alpha. Not that trying to fight does him much good; with his sight blocked, all he can do is strike out blindly. And then the voice comes out, low and guttural, demanding obedience, the alpha command voice that freezes him into cowering submission while they manipulate and adjust his limbs in their bonds.

Jared . 22. Two hamsters. Snake. Fiancé Chris who loves me very much. My parents were proud of me. Still goddamn fucking human.

It doesn't take Jared long to determine he prefers to be face-down. He feels less exposed like that – still just as fucked but less on display. Face-down, none of them seem to worry too much about his cock or his pleasure; he can just let them get their jollies and allow his mind to fade away. It's better than having to participate.

Face-down, he can stop worrying about what he is becoming, what they are forcing him to become. Face-up and there is always a hand stroking him, making sure he is hard while they knot him, telling him about his pretty little cock and how remarkably big it still is, no longer the 8 thick inches it had been but apparently, at its current 5 inches, still better than most omegas can hope to end up with. How many of them end up with penises that are only slightly bigger than engorged clitorises.

Jared. 22. Human. Stronger than this. But he's not so sure he is.

* * *

His incredible shrinking dick is bad enough to think about – Jared feels his masculinity shriveling with every lost inch. But on the fourth day, it's only an hour or two into things when liquid begins to seep from his ass… it's humiliating, far, far worse than his dick or his also-shrinking balls, and Jared has absolutely no idea how to handle it. None. From the waist down, he's become some kind of freak show attraction, the amazing half-man, half-woman(ish), more or less (three inches less) the equipment he had before, but now with a constant supply of lubrication leaking out of a hole that was never intended to have anything leak out of it.

Thinking about that makes him hyperventilate around the cock in his mouth, so he just. doesn't. think. about. it.

The voices are no help in his search for understanding his new body, contradicting each other at every term. Can you feel me stick this in your cunt, I'm going to fuck you in your pussy, your boycunt is so wet and sopping for me, I can't believe your ass is still so tight, give me your pretty little hole.

Jared learns soon enough that it doesn't matter what the alphas call it, the result is always the same – a thick, hard knot throbbing wetly inside him over and over again while his insides pulse and contract against it. Good bitch, my bitch, that's right, milk that cum right out of my knot, so good as you take it, such a good little bitch.

My name is Jared, he thinks resentfully. I had a good life. I had people who loved me. I had a future.

He can no longer bring himself to mention the rest.

Sometimes the voices reach down and stroke him to his own traitorous orgasm; sometimes they just ignore it. Sometimes, most damnably of all, he comes untouched, writhing on the knots of the alphas pinning him down. What a cockslut, they say, so hungry for it, some humans are just begging to be turned, look at him wiggle that ass so desperate for it, such a hungry little knotgobbler. And he wonders whether he is one because they are making him one or whether somehow this was buried inside him all along.

My name is Jared, he reminds himself, and tries not to think about how the best sex he had with Chris was a pale shadow of the way his rapists are making him feel. He has never, ever felt pleasure so deeply in his life.

By the fifth day, his slick-coated hole is spasming as he orgasms uncontrollably, one after another, writhing as much as his body allows him to push up to meet the knots that are taking him mercilessly, he finally understands that whoever, whatever he used to be doesn't matter anymore. They can call him whatever they want just so long as they keep giving him their knots.

The lesson Jared finally learns is this: An omega is whatever his alpha says he is.

* * *

Jared wakes up to darkness and silence. He is no longer on the bench, but stretched out on a bed of some kind, blindfolded and tied spread-eagle, mostly naked as far as he can feel. The burning desperation in his loins is muffled now, a pleasant thrum of an ache rather than an overwhelming roar.

It is the only thing pleasant about his situation. His hands are flattened in some kind of mitts that prevent his fingers from moving, and his ears are muffled somehow – nose too, he realizes, breathing through the gag in his mouth. Sight, smell, hearing, touch, taste – he has never felt so alone, or afraid.

Jared's body has already finished its basic transformation. He will still be tall, but he has lost a few inches as his musculature shrinks. His muscles are leaner, less bulky, and his once six-pack abdomen is flat but no longer ridged. Most of his skin is smooth, the hair having fallen out sometime along the way. And, of course, there is the slick.

At first Jared is relieved to be alone. There are no hands or cocks pushing him into position and controlling his movements, no voices telling him what he is or is not. But the relief shortly gives way to a crippling sense of loneliness until he almost wishes the cocks and hands would return. He feels like he is floating away with nothing to ground him, no one to save him. The lack of commands, of knowing what is expected, cripples him with anxiety.

He tries not to think about his fiancé (who must be out of his head with worry) or his parents (so ashamed if they knew what had happened, what was still happening to him).

He doesn't know how long he lies there – a few minutes, an hour, a day, an eternity. All he knows is that one moment he is adrift in the terrible, terrible void and the next moment he can smell the one who calls himself his alpha. Jensen. He can't see him, but he can smell him, even through the nose plugs, and when his alpha's fingers press lightly on his neck, his spine lights up with shivers of pleasure that run down to his hole like little electric shocks. Lips press close to his ears so he can hear the voice: good omega.

For one minute, three, for five glorious minutes, he is surrounded by the scent and touch of the alpha, safesecureloved in his presence. Then, Jensen moves away out of the room and Jared returns to the darkness. If his mouth weren't gagged, Jared would beg. Use me, fuck me, you can do whatever you want to me if you just. come. back. His body is on fire with want, desperate to be filled, desperate to be deemed worthy of his alpha's attention. As it is, all he can do is wait in the terrible void, wait for the alpha to return and bring him reprieve.

Again and again the cycle repeats, darkness, loneliness, desperation, reprieve, comfort, praise… darkness. If Jensen sees Jared's tear tracks, feels him trembling under his hand, he doesn't acknowledge it.

The lesson Jared learns is: The worst thing an omega can suffer is to not have an alpha.

* * *

It is second nature now for Jared to fixate on his alpha as soon as he scents him. Strapped down like he is, he can't do more than lift his head, but he can't help the thrill that goes through him when his alpha smiles in approval at his attention, kissing his forehead.

"I have to go back to work now, so I won't be around for a while, and I can't leave the IV in you unmonitored," Jensen says, reaching for an apparatus that is out of Jared's line of sight. "Now, without it you're probably going to feel dehydrated pretty quickly. Your body is still getting used to creating slick, and the process will pull the moisture from the rest of your system. I've set up a feeder tube for you while I'm away; there's a protein shake mixture in it that'll keep you fed as well as hydrated." It's laced thoroughly with alpha cum as well, and a light sedative that should make Jared dozy and compliant, but Jensen doesn't feel the need to mention either. He also doesn't mention that Jared wouldn't be producing so much slick so quickly if it wasn't for the vibrating plug that's almost large enough to let him come.

Almost. But not quite.

It doesn't escape Jared's attention that the tube looks just like Jensen's dick, complete with knot. Jensen adjusts it so it dangles right in front of Jared's mouth, but the omega turns his face away, pursing his lips closed. It looks like Jensen, but it's not. He doesn't want it.

Jensen grips his jaw firmly, fingers pressing in hard enough to bruise as he forces Jared face back toward the tube. Jared's mouth opens unwillingly from the pressure, long enough for Jensen to shove the tube in until the knot is touching his lips.

"This," he indicates the knot, "is the on-off switch. You'll have to wrap your lips around it and press down to get the liquid to release. I don't want you to choke, so you'll only get a little trickle at a time. The longer you suck, the more liquid you'll get. You can have as much as you want."

Jensen stands up and pats his head. "Be good, omega. I'll be back as soon as I can. Drink when you need it, and don't fight it."

Jared isn't stupid. Through the hazy of lovepleasealpha, a tiny defiant part of him knows why Jensen is doing this, why the tube is shaped the way it is, why he's supposed to suck on it, what he's supposed to learn.

But Jensen's also not wrong. After the first hour without the IV, Jared's throat is dry and parched. By the end of the second hour, he feels like every bit of moisture is being sucked from his body. Halfway through the third hour, his eyes are too bereft of moisture to open easily, and his tongue hurts to move as he blindly whuffles his head sideways, looking for the nozzle.

The first spurt feels like heaven in his mouth, smooth and slightly salty as it instantly soothes away the dryness. The relief makes him lightheaded, and he suckles more deeply. By the time he notices that the lazy, spaced-out feeling is more than just his dehydration receding, it's hard for him to remember why he was fighting this so hard.

Jared sucks, and feeds, and feels safe and content, and doesn't question why.

Jensen checks the tapes when he returns to his den, to find Jared still nursing from the tube, lips firmly locked around the knot. The instruments on the tube say he has been sucking it non-stop for the last two hours. That means enough of the drug is in his body to keep him passively compliant for the evening.

If Jared notices it when Jensen removes the tube and feeds his own cock down the omega's throat, he gives no sign, just breathes in the alpha's scent and continues to suck. "So good," Jensen whispers, "so good taking my knot like an omega should." He runs his fingers through Jared's hair, and touches the place on Jared's neck that reinforces an omega's urge to submit. "This is what you were made for, baby. Just a hungry little knotslut. My hungry little knotslut."

Jensen has to go into work all week, so Jared is left with the feeder tube for eight hours or so each day. More and more often, he catches himself fantasizing that it is Jensen's cock, although he always immediately thinks about something else and never admits it to himself. By the third day, Jared happily sucks on the tube all day until Jensen returns and removes it himself.

Jensen decreases the dosage of the drug each day. By the end of the five days, the liquid only contains the protein shake and cum. Jared doesn't notice – half of the time he's just holding the tube in his mouth, not even drinking from it, conditioned to feel calmed and reassured just by weight of the fake cock in his mouth and the suckling action itself.

Jared has never been happier.

The lesson of week three – Alpha will provide what you need – goes almost unnoticed in Jared's drug-and-cum-fueled haze. Unnoticed, but not unlearned.

* * *

The social worker arrives on a Tuesday. As is customary when they have visitors, Jared is kneeling in position between Jensen's legs, attention focused entirely on keeping his alpha's cock gently nestled in his mouth. Nose pressed to Jensen's groin, his alpha's musky scent surrounding him, he feels calm and centered, almost floaty and a little high. When Jensen reaches down and lazily strokes his fingers over the claiming mark on his neck, Jared shudders and melts into the touch.

He knows Jensen is manipulating him into the perfect picture of a content omega. It's just, like this, all of his instincts telling him safelovedprotected, it's a little hard to care. He hasn't even had to be tied down for a week in his alpha's presence (but still, always, when his alpha goes away, it's for his own security).

If the social worker ("call me Gen") is uncomfortable during the interview, she does a good job of concealing it. Jensen isn't the first alpha to feel the need to put on these kind of dominance displays, after all.

Jensen fucks him once she leaves, fucks and knots him, then rolls them over so Jared can ride his knot. Jared has learned exactly what his alpha expects him to do, how to slowly rock himself back and forth on the knot with just the right pace and motion to keep it plump and erect for hours. Jensen has taught him well – too little stimulation and the knot will recede; too much and the alpha will get sore. (Omegas never get sore, which makes sense. This is what omegas are made for.)

"Don't you wonder why male omegas exist, Jared? Don't you wonder why only males can be turned? You can't get pregnant, yet you're made for alphas' knots just like a female omega, the same pheromones, same slick, same heat cycle."

Jared knows Jensen is saying something, but it doesn't sound important, so he only half-listens, too caught up in the bliss of keeping his alpha satisfied.

"You're an overpopulation measure, Jared, a honey trap, a nonviable outlet for our aggression and our sex drives and our instinctual need to dominate and breed. You're an ecological safeguard – the predators can't outnumber the prey. Without human omegas, we wolves would overbreed ourselves and humanity. So the more sperm we pump into omegas like you, the fewer litters full of new pups there are."

It's easier when things aren't important, Jared has learned, easier when there's only the scent and taste of his alpha and he doesn't think about the words unless he must. He knows Jensen doesn't mind. Good omegas are to be seen, and fucked, and used, but not heard.

"That's why your government doesn't raise a fuss when a human is turned, you know." Jensen smirks and thrusts his hips up suddenly, making the omega adjust to the change. "That's why they don't look too closely at the signature at the bottom of the release form. Why we aren't required to turn in the release forms until five days after the process starts. Did you ever think about that, Jared? The turning is irreversible after three days, but we don't have to say a damn thing until day five. That's how little your government cares about you. Not like me. Not like I do."

Jensen touches Jared's claiming mark as he commands him, "Come for me."

Jared does, untouched.

Most of the words go over Jared's head, but fortunately, week four's lesson is simple: No one is ever going to take you away from me.

* * *

The social worker returns a month later with a beautiful young man in tow. Jensen makes sure that this time, Jared is seated straddling his legs, riding his knot in the reverse cowgirl position, his omega body and cock fully exposed before his audience. Jared loves his tiny cock now, so sensitive and delicate it can hide entirely inside Jensen's closed palm.

The young man gasps as he leans forward. "Jared?!"

"He's talking to you, babe," Jensen whispers in Jared's ear. "Be polite now and say hello."

"Mmmm?" Jared looks up at his former fiancé with a lazy smile. "Hey there. Sorry – uh! – I forgot to call." He giggles. "Something came… ohyeahrightthere …came up."

Jensen swivels his hips lewdly at the last word, making Jared moan. "We can't get married. I'm Jensen's omega now."

A look of heartbroken sorrow crosses Chris's face at the wanton display, but Jared doesn't seem to notice, eyes closing as he spreads his legs obscenely wider to force the knot in deeper. In the background, the social worker is murmuring consoling words about closure, but no one is listening.

Chris steps forward, cupping Jared's face desperately in his hands despite Jensen's warning growl. "No! I love you, Jared. You loved me! You can't just–"

Jensen whispers a wicked idea into Jared's ear, inaudible to the humans' ears but clear to his omega. Immediately the man lights up, leaning into his former lover's embrace and rubbing his chin against his fingers. He runs his fingers through Chris's hair, entwining them into a firm grip, then pulls the human down to meet his lips with a passionate kiss.

"I did love you, Chris, but Jensen is my alpha now," Jared whispers in Chris's ear, grinding his cock against his leg as best he can as he dutifully repeats Jensen's words. "But he's kind, and loving. He says–" the omega pauses while Jensen whispers in his ear again, then continues. "He says he can tell how much you love me. Let my alpha turn you, too, Chris. I can love you again then. We can be together. It's the only way."

Jensen allows Jared a handful more whispered promises before pulling the omega's back flush against his chest, hands clasped over the omegas nipples as he stares intently at the interloper.

Chris's gaze reluctantly rises up to meet Jensen's. As soon as they do, the alpha bares his fangs and bites down hard into the curve of Jared's neck, right on top of his claiming mark, without ever looking away.

Jared comes with a wail, his tiny cock and balls spurting out thin omega ejaculate across his former lover's jean-clad thigh. Jensen winks at Chris, and begins to lick at the bite. As far as the pair is concerned, the intruding human no longer exists.

Once the social worker has escorted the crestfallen man from the room, Jensen pulls Jared off his deflating knot and settles the omega down between his legs to lick him clean. Jared does so with gusto, closing his eyes blissfully as he sucks his alpha down to the base.

Jensen pats Jared's head distractedly as the omega begins to suckle him. "He really does love you, huh?" he muses thoughtfully, scritching Jared's head. "It would be cruel to leave him out there in the world alone, wouldn't it?"

Despite the performance they put on for the social worker, Jensen has no intention of taking a second omega, has in fact been intending to retire from the business to enjoy endless days entertaining himself with his own perfect omega. But the other man, Chris, is exquisitely suited to be turned, and there are always alphas looking to purchase a well-trained pet. Properly conditioned, Chris could auction for a million or more.

Never let it be said that Jensen is not a reasonable alpha, capable of being flexible when an irresistible opportunity presents itself.

Besides, the boy really will make someone a lovely bitch.

If Jensen may have instigated Jared laying that groundwork, may have researched his omega's ex-lover and anticipated the visit that followed, if in fact Jensen may have already placed certain calls that will see the young man fetchingly strapped to a turning bench, and extended first-bid offers to a certain alpha Jeff whose tastes run in that very specific direction… well, it's no one's concern but Jensen's.

Jensen's omega looks up at him with eyes full of love, love only for him, his alpha, the master he was quite literally made for. It won't be long before all remaining memories of his past fade entirely from his mind, supplanted with the pure, unfettered need to serve and please his alpha. Jensen will be his world. In a week or so, Jared will remember nothing besides the importance of worshiping Jensen and taking his knot.

Exactly the way it should be.

All lessons learned.