“What?”
“Seriously, fuck you for that. You are not…half…of anything to me. I’m thrilled you’re getting this surgery, fucking thrilled. But they are literally going to flay you open, replace your knee, and give you new skin. You’re telling me that when someone from our team needs surgery, it’s okay for me to show up for them, but not for you? That’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”
“Wait, is this your first fight?”
“Shut up, Tex!”
Laughter bubbles up out of me and I grip Odd’s waist, needing to anchor myself. “Goddammit, I love you,” I whisper into what I hope is his ear.
“Oh, you son of a bitch. Telling me that to get out of a fight is so unfair,” he complains, nuzzling up against my cheek, his days-old scruff making a scratching sound against the smooth fabric.
I chuckle again, shaking my head. “No, I promise. Not trying to get out of a fight. I’m still learning that I am not some invisible cipher moving through the world, unaccounted for and unnoticed. That used to be my jam, you know. Invisibility. But you…you’ve always seen me. And I’m sorry. I’ll have to get used to not hiding from you.”
“Yeah, you’re really bad at that anyway,” he says, pulling up the bag to kiss me again.
“Guys, I need to get him down there and prepped.”
Odd pushes his forehead against mine. “I need to let you go. They’ll take excellent care of you, and I’ll be waiting for you when you’re done.”
A shiver of fear rolls through me as I contemplate what’s on the other side of this surgery. “Thank you. I hate to say it, but I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too, you asshole,” he says affectionately. “All right, Anders. You’ve got him from here.”
“I do, brother. I promise you, I do.”
With that I’m led to a descending elevator then guided through a series of walkways. At various times I hear voices, some of them strange-sounding. Some of the walkways are concrete, others have me stepping on what feels like metal grating. There’s a second elevator, also going down, then several more steps, and finally a door being opened.
“I swear to you, if you take this bag off my head and we’re at a Lowe’s, I’m going to be pissed.”
A familiar voice, female, rings with laughter. Anders’ strong hand, which has been guiding me the whole way, leaves my arm and a more delicate hand takes its place. The bag is taken off my head and I blink several times in the bright space. It takes several more blinks and a few scans of the area to realize that this is an operating suite, and I’m in some kind of anteroom.
I turn to my side, and Anders is there, smiling at me. Instead of his usual joker mug, his eyes are kind, and there’s a different sort of air about him. He feels weirdly competent in this space.
“Okay, hoss. This is where it all begins. This is Dr. Tamashiro, and she and I will take good care of you.”
On the other side of me is a tallish woman, with long, thick hair, pale freckled skin, and sharp nearly black eyes. She’s wearing standard-issue hospital scrubs and supportive shoes and looks like she could run the world.
The stress of the last several weeks—hell, the last several years—binds up in my body and leaves on a long exhale. I love Anders Bash like a brother, and I have seen him do amazing things, medically speaking. But standing here under this woman’s assessing gaze, it’s the first time I’ve felt like this might actually work.
“Dr. Tamashiro, it’s nice to meet you in person.”
She sticks out her hand, efficiently, pleasantly even. “Likewise. Let’s take a seat and do a final walkthrough of the procedures we have planned for the day, and then we’ll get started.”
I take the seat offered and run my palms, which have grown sweaty, over my pant legs. I sign a few documents that allow them to use the results of this surgery in their various studies, then Anders and Dr. Tamashiro repeat the processes we’ve already talked through a few times. They’ll be working in concert with one another, and while they initially acted like the work on my penis was just an extension of re-skinning the rest of me…it’s not.
It’s a delicate procedure that will take the lion’s share of the time, and Dr. Tamashiro looks way too excited to get started. She practically hops when I tell her I want foreskin. “It increases the success rate of this surgery, and your orgasms will thank you.”
Anders muffles a snort, and I glower at him until he finds himself a resting professional face. I make him leave the room when Dr. T verifies my fully erect length and girth, pre-accident.
“At a minimum, we’ll be alleviating the painful tightness, but I’m feeling good about things,” she says, her smile warm. “So let’s have you shower and change while we scrub up. When you’re ready, meet us through those doors.”
I grab the provided gown, hair net, and socks then prepare myself as requested. The stench of antiseptic soap clings to me as I walk through the automatic double doors into the spacious surgery room. Looking past the ceiling-like structure suspended over the operating area, the room is at least three stories tall, and from the natural formations and clean, mineral smell, I can only surmise that I’m in a cavern. If the two elevator rides down were any indication, I’m at least a hundred feet below ground level.
The Cave indeed.
The juxtaposition of natural wonder and scientific advancements in this room is head-spinning but cool as fuck. There is a surgical bed in the middle of the room and I walk over to it.
Entering from a windowed wash-up area, I’m joined by Dr. Tamashiro and two other people also dressed in standard scrubs, gloves, and masks. One of them is Thane-level enormous and the other has strange eyes, but I try not to stare because it feels rude.
