Mechanically Separated But Equal

As the Beta bus trundled through the city, Amy leaned against the window and stared at her phone.

The ‘In Memoriam’ thread on the OO forums contained five new posts. Amy stared at the face of a young raccoon, only nineteen. The baby is doing well, at least, his Alpha reported. Next was an older woman, a gazelle in her forties. Complications from an unexpected heat erupting in public. The Alpha is in custody, but everyone knows rut related homicide rarely gets past the grand jury. Two heart attacks, right out of the blue. A fifty-three year old woman and a thirty-three year old man.

The last one made Amy pause and focus. A panther, her face greying and wrinkled with age smiled in the picture, her arms around an equally old ermine. ‘Ivory passed peacefully overnight surrounded by her three children and nine grandchildren. She is survived by her doting Alpha, Pearl, her constant companion of sixty-five years. Services will be held at-‘

Amy scanned the obituary several times. It was rare to read about a happy ending. What was it called? Survivorship bias. Or maybe the reverse of that. The early or violent deaths dominated reporting, but countless Omegas lived out full, long lives. Silently. Unseen.

For every abusive Alpha, was there a loving one too? If the department of health literature was to be believed, most Alpha’s were predominantly stoic protectors of Omegas, with a few bad apples cropping up here and there. But, the saying was ‘a few bad apples spoil the whole bunch.’ What kind of apple was her dark stranger?

Firm but gentle hands guiding her hips. Hot breath licking at the shell of her ear. Gloveless hand ghosting over her stomach, down to her-

Amy’s breath hitched as a strange tightness pulsed low in her abdomen. She grimaced and found her face had gotten hot. Oh god, she would just fucking die if she was going into heat again. Luckily, as her panic rose, the sensation receded, and she was left clutching her phone tightly and feeling foolish. Maybe it was another side effect of doubling her heat blockers yesterday?

Most Omegas only took suppressants in the week or so leading up until their heats, but Amy’s monthly cycle qualified for a lower dosage daily suppressant. Heavy duty blockers could neutralize a heat, but Amy’s only muted the front end, giving her a chance to break it before it crippled her. The general sentiment was that shorter cycles provided weaker heats, but Amy frankly thought that was bullshit. Maybe she just had bad heats. Maybe they were getting worse the older she got. There was no way to know for certain.

Diving back into the OO message board, Amy saw she had a private message from one of the moderators, pseudonym Orion, the board owner’s son. They communicated occasionally. Amy didn’t post on the board and the owner was intolerant of lurkers, who could be perverts, predators, or bots. Amy had provided proof years ago of her legitimacy. Since then, the owner or Orion reached out occasionally to check on her.

The number of out-of-cycle heats had been spiking recently, and he was reaching out to see if she was doing well. Did she need any support? Amy typed out a quick response. She experienced an off-cycle heat as well, but she was handling it. Any support should be given to others, but thank you for thinking of her.

Amy scrolled listlessly, not focusing for long or reading very closely. The general help board was flooded by off-cycle heat questions and crash outs. What was going on? How could this happen to me? Students were getting kicked out of class. Marriages were at risk as the Omega partner suddenly coupled with a stranger. Amy wasn’t alone in her misery.

Ex-Mayor Jewel resigned under pressure applied for the perception that her response to the building crisis was inadequate. The non-domestic rut-related homicides rate was sharply spiking. But how could anyone address that problem if the cause was unknown? Still, someone had to pay, and the mayor was as good as any to put up against the wall.

She focused on a panicked post regarding a slick spot.

The young Omega was frantic. She wasn’t in heat, but she’d been sexually active with her Beta boyfriend and now her slick hole was leaking yellow fluid flecked with red. The next available appointment at her local Omega clinic wasn’t for three weeks. Something about her issue not being ‘urgent’? None of the regular doctors in her town would see Omegas. Should she go to the ER? She’d already hit her coverage limit with her public insurance this year, so going to the hospital was going to be more than she could afford, but also, like, she didn’t want to die. What should she do?

The sympathetic replies contained a laundry list of remedies. Did she have a Beta relative (or her boyfriend even) who could lie to a doctor to get a prescription for antibiotics? (Amy had used that trick with Sonic’s help in the past) Try these herbal concoctions. This online pharmacy’s authentication system is shit; you can easily get what you need there. Next time have him wear a condom, dear. Where are your parents in all this?

Amy felt overwhelmed just reading about the girl’s situation. Amy’s irritation issue wasn’t as bad as all that. Thank god for small blessings. As if responding to her thoughts, her stomach lurched. The lightheadedness and cramping were starting to ease. That or the painkillers she’d been downing like candy were kicking in.

She saw a notification that Orion had replied. He was sorry to hear that she was having trouble. Was she on the new Starline suppressants? There was a rumor that a bad batch had been sent out. (Amy arched a brow at that. Bad batch? Could that be it?) If she needed anything, he was available to help however he could. He and his mother were always rooting for her, their oldest unclaimed Omega on the message board. She was an inspiration.

Amy darkened her phone and shoved into her bag. Her gut clenched. Inspiration? Was it inspiring to spend her life hiding in plain sight and denying to her last breath what she was? Maybe he had some romantic notion that she somehow was free? Free of an Alpha maybe, but certainly not of the fear of Alphas. It was a different cage, but still a cage. Inspiration.

Amy’s assigned Omega clinic was located about twenty miles from her apartment in a rundown office building catering to medical professionals. Before stepping off the bus, she wiggled into a hoodie and a cloth mask. Heading through the maze of corridors, she passed the Alpha waiting area, little more than a collection of chairs and a television, and absently pulled on the drawstrings of her hood, tightening it further. Omegas weren’t required to be escorted to the clinic, but most still needed a ride. Or their Alpha didn’t trust them.

She approached the clinic door. It bore a placard with the rare struck through ‘A’. No Alphas. Here was a safe space, one of the very few such places.

Inside she lowered her hood and checked in with the receptionist who handed her a clipboard full of forms to fill out. Why was she there, how would she be paying, had her home address changed since her last visit? The last form always soured her stomach. It was a list of questions with yes or no boxes.

Does the person who is with you today make you feel unsafe? N/A

Can you leave your current relationship if you want? N/A

Can you come and go from your domicile as you please? Yes

Have you been threatened if you try to leave? No

Have you been physically harmed in any way? No

Have you ever been deprived of food, water, sleep or medical care? No

Do you have to ask permission to eat, sleep or go to the bathroom? No

Are there locks on your doors and windows so you cannot get out? Yes

Are you allowed to contact your family? Yes

Has your identification or documentation been taken from you? No

Is anyone forcing you to do anything that you do not want to do? No

Would you like to be discreetly and safely separated from the person who is with you in the clinic today? N/A

Amy handed the completed forms back to the receptionist. Every time Amy filled out the last page, her heart ached for those who gave opposite answers. Did the receptionist dread reading that form? What would they do if it contained too many red flags? Would the lady in the window ever get so numb to the suffering of others that she’d overlook Omegas in need because it was a hassle?

Her head heavy with thoughts, Amy found an empty seat in the crowded waiting room and pulled out her laptop. The pictures from the previous night weren’t going to edit themselves. Amy was early for her appointment, but even so she’d yet to be seen on time at this clinic.

Her status as an ‘aged unclaimed’ Omega granted her access to ‘urgent’ slots at the clinic, but her issue had her low on the priority list. On the phone, the scheduling associate said ‘off-cycle heats’ were taking up all the emergency slots and most of the urgent ones as well. The mounting crisis had every clinic in the greater metro area packed and all appointments book for week.

Amy glanced around the room.

A wombat in the corner sat hunched over, visibly sweating and glassy eyes staring blankly at the floor. Beside them a caracal clutched the wombat’s hand and quickly tried to cool them with a handheld fan.

A zebra, no older than thirteen, played on a tablet with his mother, who looked stricken, beside him.

A couple whispered excitedly to one another. The ermine woman gestured at pictures in a magazine with a smiling baby on the front.

A mouse, ripe with child, wore large dark sunglasses and long sleeves as she ran her hand through her young daughter’s hair as the girl watched cartoons on a cellphone, the sound loud enough to be annoying.

A brown fox in a dark suit leaned his head back against the wall and snored quietly.

Beside Amy, a pair of elderly sheep knitting and gossiping about someone’s niece who ran off with a good-for-nothing so and so. She held her arms close to not brush into either of her neighbors. The Omega scent was heavy in the air, and it gave Amy a comforting feeling even through the mask. A heady, cozy aura of togetherness and serenity. She settled into it and focused on her laptop.

Amy was disappointed to see how many of her photos from the previous night were useless. Out of focus, skewed angles, washed out. Certainly not her best work, but by virtue of the sheer number of shots there would still be plenty to touch up roughly and send off to Rouge’s communications manager. Then she’d get back a further narrowed list that she would really go to town on to make them print ready.

The local news droned from television high on one of the walls. “Mayoral Candidate Geoffrey St. John is set to unveil his plan for addressing the current public health crisis at a townhall meeting with his supporters later this week. St. John, a former top official in the Department of Public Health and Safety, has long advocated for mandating daily hormonal blockers for all Omegas, but detractors want to know who will pay for it. The upcoming televised debate with his opponent, former assistant district attorney Rouge Baton, is coming up swiftly.”

As Amy flipped through the hundreds of photographs, doing a rough sort, she stopped. Zooming into the far back of a wide shot of the whole dining area, she found him. Moonless midnight fur with blazing red streaks through his quills. He wasn’t in focus, so his facial features were obscured, but his crossed arms betrayed a stoic aloofness. Amy added the file to her touch up pile.

Her The dark gentlemen was strangely scarce. As she scanned each posed table shot and candid snaps, she couldn’t determine where he’d been sitting. Image after image, she tapped her arrow key rapidly, searching for glimpses of the man. At every instance, that tightness pulsed in her abdomen, giving her the urge to shift her hips to relieve it.

The television’s volume was annoying, but not loud enough to make a fuss about. “In economic news, the share price of the Robotnik Operations Consolidated Corporation continues to climb, buoyed by continued good news from its recently acquired subsidiary, Starline Pharmaceutical. Starline Pharmaceutical was recently awarded contracts to supply prescription medications for the NHS.”

The only photo in which the black hedgehog was forefront and in focus was a shot Amy had taken of Rouge towards the beginning of the event. She was talking to the man, her hand lightly touching his arm as she bent forward mid-sentence, a mischievous smile splitting her face and a teasing glint in her bright teal eyes. The man’s soft ears were back slightly, and he wore an irritated grimace across his handsome muzzle. Rouge did seem to know him. Who was he?

Rouge could tell Amy his name. Maybe even give her his phone number.

Danger! No! Stop! Terrible idea! Stop it, stop it, stop it!

Amy tilted her laptop lid down, hiding the stranger from view. Her face was flush and that feeling between her legs was there, urgently trying to tell her to do…something. It wasn’t painful, more like an itch. She squeezed her legs together and shifted her hips back and forth, but that wasn’t helping. Wasn’t giving her what she needed down there. It was almost like she wanted to-! Like he had-!

Amy froze. Embarrassment and shame cascaded over her. Her eyes darted around as if she’d find someone leering at her, aware of her desires. Amy pulled her hood back up over her quills. She needed a distraction. She looked around trying to find something, anything to pull her thoughts away from the handsome hedgehog (no!) nice gentleman (NO!) stranger.

Amy’s gaze slid over the many colorful posters plastered to the walls of the waiting room. She’d seen them so many times they barely registered anymore. Attractive actors pretending to be Omegas smiled widely from each, as if it was the greatest thing in the world to be learning about different suppressant options.

Know your responsibilities! Safety is in everyone’s best interest.

Ask about Alpha pairing services! Safe and anonymous Claiming covered in part by public insurance.

Uh-oh, is this covered? Know your health insurance coverage before you receive a surprising bill.

Do you know the signs of an oncoming heat? The more you know, the safer we’ll all be.

Watch Out, That Alpha is rutting! What to do when you see an Alpha rut-raged.

Short of cash for the moment? Some fluid donations come with cash compensation.

Amy looked up at the television. “Moving on to culture and entertainment,” A handsome gazelle smiled as he read off the teleprompter. “Odyssey Moon’s latest single ‘Unclaimed’ is topping the charts this week, supplanting Odyssey’s previous single ‘Heat Rush’. Here she is talking about her inspiration on the red carpet at the recent City Music Awards.”

Odyssey’s lithe body was wrapped in a sheer red dress sparkling with rhinestones, leaving her distinctive Claim mark bare on a patterned shoulder. Her Alpha, another recording artist (and her manager, producer, and agent if the rumors were to be believed), draped a protective arm around the cheetah. “I just wanted to tell all those young Omegas that their true love is out there, you know? That their perfect mate is out there looking for them, you know? And, like, they can have it all, you know? The romance and the happy endings and everything.”

The black bear pushed his snout into her ear. “Like us, babe?” His sultry baritone got picked up by the microphone the interviewer was holding.

“Yeah, like us, baby.” Odyssey confirmed, leaning into his touch. The scene faded back to the newsroom.

“Wow, she sure is pretty, isn’t she? It’s great that young Omegas have her to look up to, right?” The anchor bantered at his co-host before turning to the camera. “We’re going to take a quick break and then it’ll be a look at this weekend’s outlook with Walter the Weather Walrus.” A campaign ad for Geoffry St. John started playing and Amy felt her phone vibrate.

A text from Sonic.

[Blue Blur]: Movie night tonight? Fast and the Furriest: 9 Lives is streaming on Petflix now! They go to space in this one!

Amy smiled. Sonic loved those dumb racing movies that really weren’t about racing anymore. Just things exploding and macho Alphas talking about how important packs are. Even though she really should be working on cleaning up these pictures, movie night sounded amazing. They would watch whatever Sonic dug up, cracking jokes the whole time, a big bowl of popcorn between them. A normal evening.

TO [Blue Blur]: That sounds great! I’m still at the clinic, tho…I don’t know when I’ll get home.

[Blue Blur]: I’ll get you some take out. Chun-nanese?

TO [Blue Blur]: Sounds like a date!

Amy saw she had a message from Vector.

[Vector Magnitude]: Got a stakeout job for you if you’re up for listening to podcasts while staring at a nondescript apartment building for hours. Oh, and taking pictures of some bloke.

Vector, a private investigator, threw Amy photography jobs on occasion. Despite Amy’s bright coloring, she’d developed a skill for avoiding attention over the years. The jobs mostly involved following the partners of suspicious spouses, hoping to confirm fears of cheating or adultery. Generally boring work, hours of sitting and waiting for the chance to snap a few pictures from across the block, but Amy needed the money.

Regular employment was rare for Omegas. Retail was out of the question because contact with Alphas was a ‘safety risk.’ Office work was generally unreachable because it was rare for Omegas to finish college, and the lack of a degree was an easy way to disqualify them from consideration. Manual labor was also hard to come by due to the general belief that Omegas were weaker than Betas and, of course, Alphas by default. Freelance work was really the only viable option.

TO [Vector Magnitude]: I’ll take it. Tho I have some times I’m not available b/c other gigs.

The door beside the check-in window opened and a mandrill in colorfully patterned scrubs stuck her head into the waiting room. “Amy Rose!” She called.

“Here!” Amy called, furiously stowing her laptop into her satchel.

She followed the nurse through the door. They stopped by a scale and collected Amy’s weight before she was led to an examination room. “I’m going to get your vitals and ask you a few questions about what brings you in to see us today. After that the doctor will be in to see you shortly. Sound good?”

“Yeah.” Amy put her bag beside the examination table and pulled off her hoodie and mask. She held as still as she could as the nurse took her blood pressure even though her skin burned under the contact. Luckly the temperature reading was one of those forehead scanners.

When she was done, the nurse settled into a rolling stool and booted up the computer in the room. “So, what brings you in today, Miss Rose?” She asked as she scanned Amy’s file. “Oh, unclaimed? Poor dear, I’m sure Mr. Right is out there for you.”

Amy did not acknowledge the comment. “Yesterday, I had an off-cycle heat that wouldn’t break with my, uh, normal methods.”

“Another off-cycle.” The nurse muttered and sighed. Amy could see bags under her eyes. “What is your normal method? Intercourse? It says here you have a Beta partner. Was it intercourse with your partner?”

“Yes, but it didn’t work.” Amy looked down. “We tried three times.”

The nurse did not look at her and typed away at the computer, pecking at the keyboard slowly. “I’m sorry to hear that, honey. That must have been really difficult for you and your partner. I know heat breaking sex isn’t much fun.”

“Y-yeah.”

“Did it finally break?” The nurse turned to Amy and looked her over quickly. “You look like it did.”

Amy blushed. “Yes, it did after I…had intercourse…with an Alpha.”

“That’ll do it.” The nurse returned to her typing. “Knotted?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my, it says here you’ve not been knotted before. Was this your first time?”

“I don’t- Y-yes, it was.”

“Good on you, girl. I’m sure that felt really satisfying.” Amy grimaced. She really didn’t want to go into details. “Can I see your shoulders?” The nurse stood and put on a fresh pair of neoprene gloves over her cotton ones.

Amy leaned back. “I wasn’t claimed.” Don’t touch me!

The nurse tilted her head, holding up her hands. “Any bite marks?”

“No.” Amy shook her head.

The mandrill took a step forward and Amy leaned further back. “Are you certain? Not every Alpha has the best dental hygiene. Even if it’s just a nick, you don’t want to get an infection.”

“He didn’t bite me.” She insisted. Amy did not want her shoulders touched to look for marks that weren’t there.

The mandrill searched her face and then sighed. Sitting down, she asked, “Do you have anything else concerning you?”

Amy hugged her arms around her. She tried to slow her heart rate. “My, uh, the area where my slick comes out is really, uh, itchy and it hurts.”

The nurse nodded as she typed. “You were very sexually active yesterday. It’s pretty common for the plasma duct to get irritated by prolonged stimulation. Anything else?”

Amy frowned. Should she mention that she stupidly took double her daily suppressant? If she did, she was guaranteed to get an embarrassing lecture. “My afters are making me bleed and my stomach has been upset all day.”

“Took morning after pill.” The nurse said out loud as she typed. “How was your liquid intake yesterday? Proper hydration helps a lot with the afters sickness.”

“Probably not as good as it should have been.”

“Dehydration.” The nurse added to her chart. “Anything else?”

Amy tried to think. Her mind had gone blank. Why was she even here? “No.”

The nurse stood. “Okay, please strip from the waist down. The doctor will be by shortly. I hope you feel better soon, dear.” She left the room before Amy could thank her. Amy looked about awkwardly. She slipped off the examination table and looked through the cabinet to find a thin paper sheet and an absorbent pad.

Forty-five minutes later, a knock proceeded the door opening and an elderly male squirrel entered. “Hello, I am Dr. Chambers. What seems to be the trouble today?” He said in a rush as Amy scrambled to bag her laptop. The doctor plopped down on the rolling stool and quickly scrolled through her chart. “Another off-cycle heat!” He said with a click of his teeth.

“Yes, yesterday I-“

“Ah, but here’s something interesting,” He interrupted her. “You’re unclaimed, I see. Beta boyfriend. Yeah, that’ll do it. Well, that means you have a proper reason to be here.”

“I’m sorry, wh-?”

“Let’s have a look at you.” He pulled up a pair of stirrups on the table. “Lean back, please.” He asked, while he pulled off his gloves and stowed them in the pocket of his coat before putting on a pair of examination gloves. Amy obeyed, averting her eyes from the man’s bare hands. When she took a moment to position her heels in the stirrups, the doctor reached for her ankle, and she jerked it away. “Oh, come now, I’m just trying to help.” He chided and Amy’s ears went back as shamed heated her face.

He lifted the paper sheet. “I see you’re bleeding quiet a bit down here.” His brown eyes raised and locked with her green. “Could you please confirm to me that all sexual intercourse you have had recently has been consensual?”

“Uh, y-yeah.” Of course it was, but the directness of the question still threw her for a loop.

Dr. Chambers sighed. “I need a clear answer, Miss Rose.” He pressed, flatly. Clinically. ‘Required-by-law’ly

“I wasn’t- Yes, it was all consensual.”

“Thank you.” He looked back down. “The kits take forever.” He muttered. “I’m glad Melody gave you this pad, it’s pretty rough down here. Afters shouldn’t cause this much bleeding. Did you take anything else yesterday? Maybe a lot of ibuprofen or any other NSAIDs?”

Amy frowned. “Yes, I’ve been taking painkillers today and, yesterday, I…took an extra dose of my suppressant.”

Dr. Chambers popped up and gave her an irritated glare. Wordlessly, he rolled back over to her chart, holding his hands away from himself. He nudged the mouse with his elbow, awakening the screen from the saver. “Oh, good. You’re on low dose.” He rolled back. “Do not take more than you are prescribed. Ever. Suppressants carry an increased risk of stroke and heart attack. Taking more than you should could damage your heart, especially if you make a habit of it. You don’t want that, do you?” Amy shook her head like a child. “Good! Don’t do it again!” He tapped her knee and Amy sucked in a breath.

Pumping some lubricant onto his fingers from a container on the counter, he positioned himself between her legs. “I’m about to go in. You’re going to feel some pressure.” Amy tensed and grit her teeth as the cold lubricant contacted her insides. It burned. “Oh, you got knotted. I’ll update your chart.”

“H-how can you tell?” Amy fought her body’s urge to writhe. Cold fingers spearing her most tender parts. He was touching her. He was inside her. The panic was mounting quickly as he pressed down on her abdomen whilst continuing to feel around inside her.

“The texture of the vaginal wall changes after knotting. It’s a reflex that makes it harder for the Alpha to pull out. Things will return to normal after a few days.” The doctor explained, unphased by what he was doing to her. “Part of your discomfort and bleeding is from shedding your vaginal lining. That only happens after the first time. Think of it like a hymen, but for knotting.”

Amy felt the fingers come out and she gave a little sigh of relief. She pulled her feet out of the stirrups and sat up. Her lower abdomen ached from the intrusion.

Dr. Chamber removed his gloves, pulling the cuff to turn them inside out, the red mixing with the blue of the neoprene to give them a sickly purple color, like it wasn’t Amy’s blood all over her hands. He balled the gloves and tossed them into the trashcan. As he washed his hands in the sink, he said, “The entrance of your plasma duct is irritated. It’ll clear up on its own, but you need to drink more water when you’re in heat. I’ll print you out some literature on heat sickness.”

After drying his hands, he put his cotton ones back on. “The bleeding is a mix of your vaginal and uterine linings both shedding simultaneously. The vaginal is from losing your knot ‘virginity’ as it were and the uterine is from the levonorgestrel. Get some test, try not to stress yourself, and you’ll be better in no time.”

“But what about my off-cycle heat? It broke through my blockers.”

“Hold on, I’m getting to that.” He chastised and Amy flushed again, cowed. “You have a Beta boyfriend, right? He’s been helping you with your heats until now, right?”

Amy didn’t think it was worth the effort to correct Dr. Chambers about Sonic. “Yes.”

“Beta sperm isn’t going to cut at your age, miss. As you get older, your body develops an increasingly strong need for an enzyme in Alpha semen. If you insist on having a Beta partner, there is an artificial substitute for the enzyme, but it’s not covered by public insurance.” Amy was well aware of the seven hundred and fifty dollar per dose price tag. “I can give you a script for it if you’d like to give it a try.”

“I can’t afford it.”

“Well, you’ve found the cheaper option anyway. Intercourse to completion with an Alpha will effectively break your heats. For now, at least. Eventually that won’t cut it either.” Amy looked down at her hands. “The longer you go without being either impregnated or claimed, the more desperate your body is going to get. The heats are going to get more frequent and harder to break. I know you don’t want to hear this, but the only cure is one or the other.” Amy swallowed. Her eyes burned as tears threatened to gather.

Oblivious, the doctor continued, “I can give you some contact information for some charities that do anonymous short-term Alpha and Omega pairings, but you may want to look into some of the paid services. I’m sure your boyfriend will agree that your health is more important than his pride or sense of masculinity. I’m going to print you out some literature on heat death. I really think you should take it seriously, darling.”

“There isn’t any other reason my heats are breaking through my suppressant? I’m just getting old?”

“Miss Rose, I hate to tell you this, but it’s your body doing its job. It may not be a job you’re happy about, but it’s the one your body evolved to do. You know how to fix this. Either get pregnant or have your claim gland breeched by an Alpha. That’s the solution.”

Amy felt her throat tightening. The urge to cry continued to build. “But there’s a whole crisis going on with off-cycle heats-“

He waved his hand dismissively. “That’s other people, not you and your situation. You shouldn’t look for a diagnosis on the nightly news. Ever since the NHS changed the suppressant supplier, everyone has been claiming this and that. It’s just salience bias! Something changed and now everyone is hyper-vigilant about every little thing. In a few months it’ll all calm down and everything will go back to normal.”

He stood. “These drugs go through rigorous testing and the health department wouldn’t select faulty drugs for the NHS contracts. That just doesn’t happen. There are too many doctors and scientists working there far smarter than you or whoever is spreading these rumors.”

Amy felt exhausted and made no further comment. He pulled some tissues and moist towelettes out of the cabinet. “If there isn’t anything else, I need to get to other patients. I hope you feel better.” He said as he left.

Amy sat for a moment, trying to calm down and feeling lubricant oozing out of her. What was even the point of coming here? There wasn’t anything wrong with her body. It was working as intended. It was her that was abnormal. Numbly, she stood, cleaned herself, replaced her absorbents, and dressed.

As she checked out, she was charged a fee for using an ‘urgent’ slot without a legitimate reason. Amy meekly paid and left, pulling her hood tightly around her head.

Waiting at the bus stop, Amy thumbed to her contacts list on her phone and hit a number. After a few rings a warm voice answered, “Hello?”

“Mrs. Vanilla, it’s Amy. Can I come over this afternoon?”

“Of course, dear. My door is always unlocked for you.”