FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

PROLOGUE

Emotionally charged noises reverberate in the calm darkness. They slowly coalesce into words and assemble into coherent conversation.

"Where did you get him?" A deep voice says in a disapproving tone, "These clothes look expensive. Probably American. We agreed our first subject should be from a third world country where it would not draw attention. And the Argentinians said they needed four more months."

An older more aristocratic male voice answers excitedly, "Seems serendipity is with us. He was found unconscious on the rocks not too far from the dock. I suspect he was in a boating accident during the storm. As soon as there is daylight I want you to organize a search for any wreckage. If my prediction about his circumstances prove correct, he will be perfectly safe."

"We are months away from being ready, and yet it sounds like you've already made up your mind to use him." The bass voice admonishes.

The second cultured voice answers dismissively, "You've made your concerns known. Risks are inevitable and I say they are acceptable. Assuming his head injury isn't too serious I'm confident in success. In fact, this gift from the sea inspired me. Here are my notes on refining the immunosuppression process. This should almost completely eliminate the host response to the chromosomal xenografting, which should lower the mortality rate even more. I have also solved the problem with the inconsistent catalyst reaction for the T-cell suppressor virus. And look here. I believe this will fix the slow proliferation rate of the pluripotent stem cells without losing appropriate apoptosis."

Xenografting? Suppressor virus? What are they talking about?

I try to open my eyes when suddenly there is a violent flash of memory.

It is nighttime. Rain lashes my face. There is yelling. A blinding flash of light coupled with a powerful explosion. Spinning around. Falling through the air. Churning water all around me. No air. Can't breath. Tossed around like a child's toy. No up. No down. The chaotic images spin into a whirlpool of tranquil solitude and the voices fade to blissful silence.

PART 1

CHAPTER 1

To board the Absolem, one of the world's largest private yachts, my best friend Marc, his fiancée, my girlfriend and I pass through Secret Service-style security at the exclusive marina. After our ID's are scrutinized, our luggage is left with marina security to be scanned and loaded onto the ship.

After crossing the long gangway from the dock, the four of us are greeted by a man smiling like the Cheshire cat. He is sporting Cartier sunglasses, white slacks, and a brilliant cobalt-blue silk shirt. I recognize him from social media as our host, Jack Killington, son of the billionaire founder of Renaissance Investing and hedge fund guru, John Killington.

Jack grasps my friend Marc by both shoulders and announces loudly, "There's Renaissance's golden-boy! Welcome to the Absolem."

When Marc returns the shoulder hugging gesture I can't help but compare the two men as they stand there facing each other like two wrestlers getting ready to grapple. Beyond their similar six-foot heights, Marc and Jack are opposites in appearance.

Marc has a fair complexion with wavy light-blonde hair fluttering freely in the coastal breeze. Jack's deep tan suggests a lot of time in the sun and a stylish cream-colored panama hat contains his dark brown hair.

At the age of twenty-eight Marc is my inspiration for going to the gym. He has a phenomenal physique and chiseled features. Jack's arms are the about same width from shoulder to wrists suggesting he has never lifted anything heavier than a cocktail drink. With Jack's round face and slight paunch he looks soft and doughy compared to Marc's athletic build.

Marc responds enthusiastically, "Good to see you Jack. Let me introduce..."

Before Marc can finish, Jack looks past Marc and puts on a theatrically enhanced expression of surprise. He lets go of Marc's shoulders to walk around Marc and focus his attention on the stylishly dressed brunette stepping off the gangway behind Marc.

Jack proclaims dramatically, "This heavenly vision must be Stephanie Borghese. Venus herself would be but a shadow set against such radiance. Please forgive my forwardness, but you are even more beautiful than Marc has led me to believe. I won a wager with your grandfather last year at the Monaco Grand Prix. A delightful man. I would have wagered both my car and driver for a chance at a kiss of your hand, may I?"

Jack brings Stephanie's hand to his lips and kisses it while looking directly into her eyes like a protagonist from a 1950's romance movie.

Despite the over-the-top introduction Stephanie smiles politely and says, "You are very gracious. A pleasure to meet you Jack."

Marc wraps his arm possessively around Stephanie and with a forced laugh says, "Jack. Tone it down a bit, will you?" He pivots to point at me and my girlfriend. "Jack. I want you to meet my little brother Todd Centos, the computer wiz I told you about, and this is his companion, Paige Monet."

With the same melodramatic demeanor Jack does a less intense hand kissing display to Paige and says, "An appropriate name for such a picture of beauty. Charmed."

Paige smiles, blushes and says, "Nice to meet you."

I am shocked Paige actually appears to like Jack's contrived behavior. My attention turns from Paige to the gregarious Jack when he, sandwiches my hand with both of his pliable hands and shakes it vigorously.

"Good to meet you Todd. I hope you enjoy the trip. It should be a lot of fun. The Absolem is state of the art everything."

"Thanks. I'm sure we will."

I'm relieved he doesn't question why Marc calls me his little brother despite having different last names. We don't even look alike with my shorter stature, runner's build, black hair and darker skin tone.

It saves me the hassle of explaining I was raised by Marc's parents after mine died in a car accident. There is no faster way to put a damper on a festive mood than talking about deceased parents. And I get to avoid being subjected to the head-tilted pity-look accompanied by the obligatory apology for my parents having died.

Jack backs up and puts his hands in the air to gather everyone's attention. As if making a grand pronouncement to a large crowd instead of just four, he announces, "We will cast off and be under way in about an hour. Captain says we should make Ambergris Caye in just over four days. It would be sooner but Mother Nature didn't get the memo and placed a little storm in our path. But no worries. The Absolem has zero-speed stabilizers. They will keep this baby so steady you land-lovers won't even notice."

A middle-aged clean-shaven man in a uniform with black trousers and a white short-sleeve shirt approaches. The epaulettes with three gold bars on the shoulders remind me more of a pilot than a sailor.

With a quick glance at the man Jack continues addressing us. "This is our first mate, Charles. He will show you to your cabins so you can freshen up. Predinner drinks and appetizers will be served shortly in the main salon where you can meet the other guests. We will be dining under the stars on the observation deck this evening. You can't beat the cityscape views from the bay after sunset. See you then."

* * *

Three days later I'm in the main salon enjoying a very strong and apropos Dark 'N' Stormy drink with Marc. Jack was right about how steady the boat would be. As the predicted storm rages outside the dark windows, the Absolem barely sways from the rocky seas that flash into view through the rain-streaked windows with each distant lightning strike.

Earlier this evening, after another lavish dinner, the passengers split into two groups. The smaller group, including Stephanie and Paige, went to enjoy the sauna and the gym. Marc and I joined the larger group in the main salon.

Currently a handful of guests are enjoying a prerelease blockbuster movie on a huge monitor with ultrahigh definition resolution in a theatre alcove. Two passengers are lost in a VR game on a custom gaming console. The large head pieces cover most of their heads like futuristic helmets making them look more like robots than humans as they silently twitch, dodge and move their gloved hands around doing something only they can see and hear. There are a couple small cliques of guests simply sitting around chatting and drinking.

In one corner is a large ornate poker table where Marc and I were playing Texas Hold'Em with the remaining passengers. Marc was repressing his competitive impulse because two of the other players are Renaissance hedge fund clients. Marc wants to win their business more than he wants to win their poker chips.

I have no qualms about winning at poker and am doing very well with my more patient approach to the game. With a look and a kick under the table, Marc gets me to sit out a couple hands to ostensibly get a drink, but his real reason is to talk.

"Todd. Work with me here. I want to manage the portfolios of the two sitting to your right. People like that don't like to lose. And they know I brought you here."

I believe Marc is being overly sensitive. "It's just a friendly game. They were laughing, having a good time and didn't seem to care. I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"Todd, look around you. Most of these people live in a different world than what we are used too. That seemingly nonchalant question Xavier asked about whether you had played in a professional tournament was not a compliment. That was his way of telling me he believes I brought in a ringer to take advantage of him. They may seem friendly on the surface but they are always thinking about how to get leverage over someone else. And they assume everyone else is thinking the same way. So don't let their outward public behavior fool you."

"When did you get so cynical?

"I've gotten to know their kind pretty well since I went to work at Renaissance Investing."

With a chuckle I concede to Marc, as I generally do. "Okay. No big deal. I'll be sure to start losing from here out."

"Don't be obvious. It will only piss them off more if they think they are being patronized."

"Seriously Marc? You've seen my poker face. They won't know a thing. You're the one who has trouble keeping a straight face when you have pocket aces." I smirk at him.

He grins and leans back in his seat appearing mollified I won't harm his business schemes. "That's just my fake tell."

"Fake tell my ass." I chuckle.

I finally have Marc alone and can ask what has been on my mind since we boarded the Absolem. "Marc, you've gotten to know Paige better over the past three days. What do you think?"

"I really like her. She's funny, intelligent, down to earth and very pretty. Even before this trip, every time Stephanie and I went to dinner with you two, it is obvious Paige only has eyes for you. Are you two getting serious? Are you going to introduce her to mom and dad?"

I hesitate and admit, "Yes. I think she might be the one. I'm considering proposing when we get to Belize."

Marc has always been more focused on his career, whereas I have been more centered on starting the family I have craved ever since I lost my parents. I know he cares deeply for Stephanie, but marrying a Bhorgese is also going to advance his career.

"I hadn't realized it had gotten that serious. That is fantastic." Marc exclaims and smiles broadly as he grasps my shoulder.

"What is fantastic?" Paige says from behind us.

Marc and I turn in our seats to see Paige approaching.

I quickly stammer, "Oh hi sweetheart. Uh. How fantastic were those Jet Skis yesterday?" I stand up quickly, give her a hug and can give Marc a look over Paige's shoulder.

Marc chuckles and takes the lead. "Yah, did you see Todd hit that wake on the Jet Ski? He must have been ten feet in the air. That wipeout was epic. Classic Penny-head."

Paige queries, "Penny-head?"

"Penny-head is a silly play on my name, Centos, from our fraternity days. I had a bit of a reputation for doing silly stunts." I grin with relief when the conversation is diverted away from my future plans.

Marc chimes in excitedly, "Silly stunts? Paige, Penny-head is legendary. There's the Omega helium for beer keg swap. Hacking the student union message board to invite the entire student body to a BYOB party on President Siefert's front lawn while he was on vacation. Turning the water fountain in Jackson Lake bright green for St. Patrick's day with three feet of green suds. And oh yah. The famous Moon-over-Kappas incident."

Marc warms up to tell the story and I wrap my arm around Paige as we take a seat. "Paige. Picture this. Our fraternity house sits high on a hill. Todd strings a zip line between our fraternity house chimney and a massive oak tree two houses down and over. The zip line goes right over the Kappa's backyard. That night the Kappas are having a formal party with all the sorority sisters and their parents. Penny-head's plan is to ride the zip line down at night, pant-less, and moon the guests as he passes overhead and then escape down the oak tree in the neighboring yard where he had stashed a pair of shorts. Problem is that he didn't take into account how much the zip line would sag from his weight. So instead of passing over the Kappa's yard he has to drop into their pool before crashing into their gazebo. There he is treading water in their pool, buck naked from the waist down, surrounded by fifty angry sorority sisters in their fancy dresses and their outraged parents."

Marc is laughing at this point and I look at Paige with a sheepish grin and admit, "They weren't exactly amused."

Paige chuckles, "I can't imagine why."

Marc continues, "As president, I really had a challenge getting Todd out of that one. The phone video evidence was rather revealing." He chuckles and after a pause Marc looks around. "By the way, where's Stephanie? I thought she was with you in the sauna?"

"She was, but she left quite a while ago. I thought she would have been here by now. Maybe she is still showering. Is she a long primper?"

"She can be. I think I'll go see what is holding her up. If we aren't back in thirty minutes, don't come knocking. Something else is obviously up." He snickers lewdly as he walks away.

Once Marc exits, Paige says, "They are a cute couple."

"And well suited for each other. The funds Marc manages at Renaissance have sky rocketed. They don't call him golden-boy because of his blonde hair. If those funds maintain their value he stands to make a fortune at the end of the year. And with Stephanie being a Borghese, Marc is catapulting up the social ladder as well. Don't tell Stephanie, but Marc would have proposed sooner. He is a bit intimidated by the Borgheses. So he wanted to prove himself more at Renaissance first to get some panache behind his name."

I decide to wait for Marc to return with Stephanie before rejoining the poker game. So Paige and I join the group watching the movie. We start to get into the movie when someone standing at a window points and says, "Hey look! There's someone out in the storm on the lower deck. Todd. Isn't that Marc?"

Paige and I get up to look. He is facing away from us one deck down and even with numerous floodlights on, it is hard to be sure who it is through the rain-streaked window. However, he is blonde and wearing the same colored clothes as Marc.

"What is he doing out in the rain?" Paige asks.

"Not a clue, but I'm going to find out."

I leave the main salon through a short hallway and take a flight of stairs down to the next level. I literally run into a crewmember as I fling myself around a corner.

I grab the guy to keep us both from falling over. "Sorry about that. I'm in a hurry to find out why my friend is outside in the rain."

"Quite alright, sir. I was on my way to bring him this life preserver and escort him back inside. He should not be outside in the storm."

"I agree. Here. Let me take it too him. I'll get him to come back inside."

The crewman hesitates, glances at the storm out the window with a sour expression.

"As you wish, sir. But first put my vest on before you go out there." He removes his life preserver to put it on me and hands me the second vest. "Please ask him to come back inside as quickly as possible. The captain will be royally pissed if he catches passengers outside in the storm, so please don't dally."

"Believe me, I have no intention of dallying."

When the crewman opens the door I'm almost blown back inside by a gust of wind. I put my head down to keep the pelting rain out of my eyes and venture out on to the deck. The storm is even more violent than I had thought and am soaked in a matter of seconds. The stability of the ship and the plush creature comforts inside mask the ferocity of the storm.

I grab a handrail to steady myself on the slick decking. With the second life preserver cradled under one arm, I make my way to where Marc is holding on to a railing looking out over the violent sea. Through the rain and mist a flash of lightning reveals huge foam-topped waves crashing against the side of the Absolem.

Once I'm next to him I yell in order to be heard over the screaming wind, crashing waves and pelting rain. "Marc! Are you insane? What are you doing out here!"

He doesn't answer for a moment. His knuckles are white from how hard he is grasping the railing. I start to wonder if he heard me. I grab his shoulder to get his attention and push the life preserver into his arms. He pounds the railing with a fist and turns to look at me with his face contorted in anger.

"She's with Jack!"

"What? Who?"

"Stephanie! She is fucking that asshole Jack!"

I blink as I try to process this shocking news.

"No! Are you sure it was her?"

He screams at me. "It's her! The money hungry bitch! How could she?"

"Marc! Let's go inside so we can ta..."

There is a simultaneous blinding flash and bone-rattling boom. All I see is white and the sounds of the storm are suddenly muffled behind a ringing in my ears. Everything is spinning. I wildly cartwheel and free fall and can't figure what is up or down.

Something hits my head and there are stars swimming around in the white light. I'm submerged under water and I can't breath.

I thrash about and suddenly my head is breaks the surface. I gulp in a big breath just before I'm slapped by a crashing wave and dunked back under water again. The white light starts to fade into the natural darkness of night as my vision returns.

My head comes above the inky water again and I manage to stay afloat momentarily. In that brief moment I see the side of the Absolem. The numerous floodlights towering above me appear hazy through the rain and spray coming off the waves. The Absolem is passing me by.

As I'm pushed up to the crest of a large wave there is another flash of lightning and through the rain and mist I think I see a streak of orange falling into the sea against the white backdrop of the Absolem. I can't be sure.

I scream, "Help! Over here!"

Even though my hearing has returned, I can barely hear my own voice over the sounds of the storm. I quickly loose sight of the boat when I'm pulled down the backside of the wave. Before I can crest again I'm buried by water as another wave crashes down on me.

I battle the push and pull of the churning waves as I struggle to resurface and catch a quick breathe before I'm submerged again. I can't tell direction. I don't know where the boat is. When I manage to stay afloat long enough I see a persistent light to my left that doesn't fade like lightning.

I look to the light and see a white flare arching through the sky and I locate the ship. The Absolem appears to be turning but it is so far away the spotlights look like small hazy stars on the dark horizon once the flare fades.

I scream repeatedly for help and wave my arms between dunks under the waves. After several more flares light up the rain clouds to show the Absolem even farther away, I give up shouting. I need to focus all my energy on just staying afloat and not choking on the salt water when it gets into my mouth and nose.

The storm is relentless. If not for the buoyant life preserver constantly making me bob to the surface I would have already drowned. As time goes by my limbs become weighed down with fatigue from struggling to stay afloat.

I start to wonder how much longer I can manage when something hits my shoe. Shark is my first thought and pull my legs up. It is ridiculous to think pulling my knees into my abdomen would matter but it is all I can do. My heart is racing as I imagine man-eating sharks circling around me in the darkness below. Being eaten alive is even more frightening than drowning. I remain in a tense ball waiting for the first shark bite as I bob up and down with the waves.

Then my side hits something rough and abrasive and I nearly jump out of my skin. But this is something big and stationary. It must be a rock. A rock this close to the surface could mean land and a safe haven from the sharks I am sure are circling around me. I look around for another rock but it is too dark to see anything.

With the next flash of lightning through the foggy rain, I see big rocks protruding out of the waves all around me. I'm suddenly lifted into the air and just miss hitting one of the rocks jutting up out of the water like giant teeth.

When the lightning fades it is nearly pitch dark again. The black rocks, above the black water, under the black stormy sky are essentially invisible. My body and limbs blindly hit more of the rocks. I try to stand up on one, which is partially submerged, but I'm quickly knocked off by a huge wave. As I brush against another rock above the water line I try to scramble up onto it, but am washed over it as well. Then I'm lifted by another wave and bam. There is a flash of starry lights and then blackness.

CHAPTER 2

I slowly open my eyes to see a fan lazily spinning against the backdrop of a white ceiling. There is no sound except for the slow in and out of my breathing and a faint squeak from the fan. I inhale deeply, expanding my sore rib cage. I rub my eyes and look around.

I'm lying naked on a small bed and am covered with a white sheet. The room spins when I try to sit up, so I lay back down. I'm tired, weak and ache everywhere. My head hurts the most and I run my hand over my head to find a large tender knot on the back of my skull. It feels like I have been beaten all over with a baseball bat and conclude this must be what a piñata feels like.

With my head resting on a pillow I look around the small rectangular room. The plain white walls are windowless and there is a simple lone chair by the door. A bag of clear fluid hangs on a hook on the wall over my bed with a tube running down to a bunch of tape on my right arm.

I can't find a hospital call button so I weakly croak, "Hey." I clear my throat and with some more effort I yell, "Hello? Anybody there? Hello!"

It's not long before a tall, thin, distinguished-looking man with unkempt strikingly white hair rushes into the room. He is wearing a light blue oxford shirt with no tie, a white lab coat and tan slacks. The wrinkles on his face are accentuated by an excited smile under a pair of rectangular glasses framing piercing light-blue eyes.

"Hello young man. I'm pleased to see you are conscious."

"Where am I? What happened to me?"

The grandfatherly man pulls the chair from the door over to my bedside and sits down to peer at me over the rims of his glasses.

"I'm Dr. Malcolm DeBiron and you are in my clinic. You were found unconscious on my beach and appear to have been in a boating accident. Beyond the head injury there is no pathology except mild hypothermia, superficial abrasions and contusions with the worst contusion on the occiput. Hopefully the unconscious state was a simple concussion but the duration brought into question more ominous diagnoses like anoxic encephalopathy or diffuse axonal injury. Now that you are awake I can do a quick neuro exam."

Without waiting for me to respond he proceeds to check my reflexes, asks me to move my toes and legs, to squeeze his hands with my fingers, and move my face in certain ways. He unfolds a paperclip and starts poking various body parts with it and asks me if I feel one or two pokes.

He appears satisfied and opens a digital tablet he has with him and starts dictating into it. "Previous concerns unfounded. Motor and sensory pathways intact. Basic cortex functions preserved. Assessing higher cognitive processes next."

He directs his washed-out blue eyes at me with renewed intensity. "What is your name?"

"Todd. Todd Centos."

"Age?"

"I'm twenty-six."

"Height?"

"Almost five eleven."

He cocks a bushy white eyebrow and dictates, "Five foot ten inches."

"What is your baseline weight?"

"About one fifty."

"Be specific." He snaps.

"I think the last time at the gym I was one hundred fifty-two pounds."

He continues to ask questions like what year is it, can I spell the word 'human' and to count backwards from thirty-five by sevens. He tells me to remember three things and then asks what they are later in the questioning. I'm shown a message on the tablet screen and told to do what it says. So I blink three times. He asks me to hold up two fingers with my left hand and then touch my right thumb to my left earlobe. These odd little tests go on for quite a while with him dictating his findings into the tablet.

Eventually the doctor leans in and adjusts his glasses like he is focusing in on me. "What do you remember about how you came to be half-drowned on my beach?"

"There was a storm and I think lightning knocked me off the boat. The sea was so rough I thought I was going to drown. The last thing I remember is trying to stay above the water in the dark and then I woke up here."

"Was there anyone else with you on the boat?"

"Oh yes. There are about twenty passengers and I saw about the same number of crew. But there are probably more crewmembers I never saw. The Absolem is huge."

Dr. DeBiron taps and swipes on his tablet for a moment and then cocks an eyebrow. He looks up at me and inquires.

"Are you referring to the yacht named Absolem owned by John Killington? Do you know the Killingtons?" His face is hard to read, but his voice makes me think he is concerned about something.

"My friend Marc does. John Killington's son Jack was throwing a party for friends and clients while sailing to an island near Belize for scuba diving. Marc invited me and my girlfriend to go along. It was our third night out from Miami and Marc was furious with Jack and his fiancée. I was on the deck trying to calm him down and get him to come back inside out of the storm when I fell overboard."

"So your friend Marc and Mr. Killington are not on good terms? What was the cause of this friction?"

"Marc caught Jack sleeping with his fiancée. It is going to make work very difficult for Marc."

The doctor smiles and mutters, "Serendipity indeed." He nods pensively for a moment and then abruptly asks, "Mr. Centos, whom can we inform about your miraculous survival?"

"Marc. He is essentially my big brother. But he's on the Absolem and I haven't a clue how to get in touch with him. So his parents, the Lilliheims, would be the ones to notify. They are my Godparents. They took me in after my parents died in a car accident when I was fourteen and they live in Byrn Mawr just outside of Philadelphia."

I suddenly remember there may have been someone with a life preserver jumping off the yacht and am now concerned it could have been Marc. I quickly ask, "Did you find anyone else on the beach, when you found me?"

He pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, stands up and answers rapidly as if my question annoys him, "You were alone. You have been very helpful Mr. Centos. You must be hungry. A meal will be brought to you shortly."

"I am. And doc, could you have a nurse bring me a hospital gown?"

Without looking at me, he waves his hand in the air and answers as he walks out the door. "We are a small clinic and don't have gowns. The sheet will suffice for now. I'm sure you understand." He closes the door.

A short time later a huge muscle-bound man with short-cropped brown hair and a trim beard comes in carrying a tray of food. He must be at least six and half feet tall. He is dressed in brown shorts and white pullover, which barely contain his massive chest and arms. I note he is wearing sandals and conclude this must be a very casual hospital. He certainly does not fit my idea of a nurse.

In a deep voice he say cheerily, "Hi there. I'm Robert. Here's some food and drink." He adjusts the head of the bed to help me sit up and this time my head doesn't spin. He puts the tray on my lap.

It dawns on me Dr. DeBiron forgot to get the Lilliheim's phone number. "The doctor left before I could give him the Lilliheim's number. They need to know I'm okay. Could you get me a phone or make the call for me?"

"Certainly. I will come back after you finish your meal." As he leaves he says with an odd smile that looks almost like concern, "Enjoy."

The fresh cut fruits, steamed vegetables on rice in a tangy sauce, and some cheeses and bread are all delicious. I drink the juice, which awakens a thirst I didn't know I had. I quickly gulp down the rest of the unfamiliar mixture of tart fruit juices. A wave of fatigue washes over me and I doze off to sleep.

CHAPTER 3

I wake to the feeling of a mild ache in my right arm. Dr. DeBiron is sitting in the chair beside my bed injecting something into my IV.

"What's that? It burns a little."

As I come fully awake I realize there are restraints on my wrists. In addition, my ankles are tied down to the bed and there is something around my chest preventing me from sitting up. I struggle against the straps only to find I can't move.

"Good morning, Mr. Centos. I expect you will want to check the integrity of the restraints. Please examine them thoroughly so I can move on with the collection."

Dr. DeBiron nonchalantly sits back in the chair, crosses his legs, puts on his rectangular glasses and starts reading something on his tablet like he is sitting down to leisurely read the Sunday paper.

I renew my efforts to get out of the restraints with more vigor. I yank, twist, try to pull my hands and feet out, and find I can't bring the restraints to my teeth. I lay there panting from my failed efforts feeling very warm all over. Despite my best efforts I am forced to accept I can't get free.

The doctor looks up from his digital tablet when I stop struggling. He moves his glasses up onto his forehead above his bushy white eyebrows and asks, "Done?"

"What are you doing? Why am I tied down?" I demand and tug on the restraints to make my point.

"I've been up all night synthesizing the hyperspermia stimulant from the genetic material harvested upon your arrival. I just couldn't wait any longer."

He eagerly removes my sheet and exposes me. He starts running the back of his hand over my naked body like he is feeling for a fever. Starting on my cheeks he runs his hand down my chest across my abdomen and then down both legs.

He starts taking measurements and examines by body in great detail while he dictates the results into the tablet after each measurement. This doesn't seem like a legit medical exam to me. I feel like some animal being evaluated for auction.

...This all the Amazon will let me show for free. If you want to read the rest of the novel then you can find it on Amazon.com at The Centos Herd by Peter Archon.