Chapter Text
When the doctor snatched you out of your home in the middle of the night, he wasn’t expecting you to be so… compliant. Usually when his test subjects woke up in a holding cell in his lab they were combative, spiteful, and all around difficult to work with.
Not you.
You always did whatever he asked without question, careful to not upset him or dilly dally too long. You sat still and quiet while he performed tests and operations, staring up at him with large innocent eyes. He couldn’t tell if you were stupid or just insane.
It was probably a bit of both.
You first laid eyes on him a few months ago. A sleepless night studying in the akademiya library had led to catching a glimpse of the second harbinger, controlling a mass of your colleagues like it was child's play. And you were enthralled. He never saw you, face inches from the window, glass fogging with your breath. He never saw you when you watched from shaded corners and leaf covered treetops. You always did have a habit of sneaking around. You were obsessed. You found yourself abandoning your studies to focus on watching him, formulating schemes to work your way into his hands.
It broke your heart when he returned to Snezhnaya.
Your friends had been noticing a change in you over the past few weeks. You were less sociable, less hardworking, more distant. It was off-putting, but not a cause for concern. But after nobody had seen you in a week, they decided to pay you a visit to make sure you were okay.
You were not okay.
Your house looked like a horror movie, floor strewn about with miscellaneous junk, writing on the walls.
You truly had gone mad.
They found you curled up in your room, scribbling on a piece of paper before shrieking with indignation, crumpling it up, and throwing it on the floor.
Your floor was covered in paper.
How long had you been here?
They tentatively called your name, and your head snapped towards them, eyes wide with manic insanity.
“GET OUT!”
They hadn’t seen you since. Your plan had to be perfect. You knew you couldn’t just walk into the Fatui headquarters and request an audience with the doctor, that would never work. No, he needed to come to you.
And, just like you’d planned, he did.
The sheer delight that coursed through you when you found yourself in the doctor’s lab was unrivaled by anything else. Months of preparation and planning had finally paid off. Finally, finally , you were his.
The doctor found your compliance quite interesting. You became his favorite little lab rat as he worked to figure you out, and he told you as much. Your chest swelled with pride every time he told you how much he enjoyed experimenting on you, and you quickly became like a pet to him, endearing in a twisted, garish way that only the second harbinger could find himself endeared to.
And it was perfect.
These days, you found yourself in his office rather than a holding cell. He preferred to have you close to him while he worked, it allowed for him to monitor you more effectively, and you certainly didn’t seem to mind the arrangement either.
Today he left you alone for a few hours, having to deal with some “business matters”. He didn’t clarify further, and you didn’t ask. You occupied yourself singing songs and playing in the swiveling office chair he kept in the corner for you. Upon his return, this clenched jaw and squared shoulders made it clear to you he was upset. He took a seat at his desk and stared you down, patting his thigh.
“Come here.”
You scrambled over to him and climbed up onto his lap to fulfill his request, leaning into his chest as he brought a gloved hand up to run through your hair. You really were like a dog for him, loyal, loving, and best of all, obedient. You closed your eyes and let out a small sound of happiness as you nuzzled your face into his hand, causing his lips to curl up into a slight smile.
“143,” he called down to you. You looked up at him, responding to your name being called. Your old name had long been abandoned in favor of the serial code he had given to you: OBS143. He tended to shorten it for convenience, and you responded to the more brief version of the code in the same way you did the full thing. You were so delighted when he had given it to you, your first wonderful gift from your dear doctor. It didn’t matter it was a string of letters and numbers, when it came from his mouth it was the most beautiful name you had ever heard.
“Yes sir?” you responded. Any time Dottore addressed you by name, you knew he had something important to say, and you were more than happy to listen.
“Do you know why you’re my favorite test subject?” he asked. Your brows furrowed and your eyes glazed over in confusion as you thought through his question. He chuckled a bit at your confusion, and gave you a comforting scratch on the head to let you know he wasn’t upset.
“That’s alright,” he cooed. “I didn’t expect you to. You’re so simple minded after all.” You sighed in response to his question. This was true. You had become completely stupid for him.
“You are such an anomaly to me, such a freak of psychology, that it has become one of my greatest outlets of stress relief trying to figure out what makes you tick,” he explained. “And today, my dearest 143, I am very stressed.” You stared up at him with big, stupid eyes as he spoke, whimpering in sympathy as he shared his woes.
“Can I help?” you asked. This prompted another laugh from the man, staring down at you with what could almost be called adoration if it was anyone else but him. You continued on.
“You could test more serums on me! Or lock me in a room alone for a few days! Or cut me up again!” Your voice wavered with excitement. It didn’t really matter to you what he decided to do with you, you loved anything and everything he did. He seemed greatly interested in your statement.
“A subject volunteering to testing is very bizarre indeed,” he mused, staring down at you with a predatory smile. “But you have always been a bizarre specimen.” He caressed your cheek gently with his thumb, admiring the way you responded to his touch. You had always been quite loyal, and more than willing to participate in any experiment he laid before you. He decided to test how resilient your loyalty to him and his work truly was.
“143,” he stared down at you as he spoke, your gaze flicking back up to meet him. “How would you feel if I was to dissect you without any anesthetic?” Your body jumped at the thought, eyes flying wide open with mania and heartbeat quickening to match.
“Would you really do that?” you asked. He could tell from your tone that this was not a fearful question, this was asked from a place of shocked disbelief. You were excited at the prospect. Oh what a beautiful freak of nature you were.
“How interesting!” he mused. “If I’m not mistaken, you seem quite enthralled by the idea. My my 143, do you want me to cut you up?” You steeled your eyes into the spot on his mask where his eyes would be, and you grabbed onto his shirt, fists bundling up handfuls of silky fabric.
“Oh would you please?!” you nearly squealed with excitement. The doctor smiled at your response and lifted you off his lap, gently grabbing hold of your wrist and guiding you into the adjacent operating room. You knew the drill by know, climbing onto the cool metal operating table and stripping off the loose-fitting scrubs he kept you in. You laid out on the table as Dottore made his preparations for the procedure, shaking slightly with manic anticipation. When he turned back around, he was pleased at how you had already prepared yourself for the procedure without being asked, and wheeled his cart of instruments over to your side.
“Oh what a good subject you are 143! You didn’t require any instructions this time!” he praised. He watched the way your body responded to his words, he could almost see the way the delight flowed through you. The latex of his gloves brushed against your sternum and traced a line down your stomach, stopping at your navel.
“Are you going to be able to hold still? Or should I restrain you?” he asked, voice laced with a saccharine sweetness that made your stomach flip in excitement. “I wouldn’t want my scalpel to slip and cut something that it shouldn’t because you were moving around.”
“You should probably restrain me sir,” you told him after a moment of contemplation. He smiled a bit and began to fasten the leather straps attached to the table around your limbs and neck, making it so sudden movements would keep you relatively stable. You typically didn’t have trouble staying still while he was experimenting on you, but your body was trembling so much from the sheer excitement of it all that you didn’t know how easily you would be able to stay still for him, and you definitely didn’t want to make him have to work extra due to your incompetence. Satisfied with the way you were secured, Dottore began taking notes on your status pre-dissection, muttering into his tape recorder as he examined you.
“OBS143 has an elevated heart rate and is breathing much faster than normal. Excessive flushing on the face and chest and dilated pupils are present.” Dottore walks around the examination table and peers down at your crotch, using gloved fingers to spread apart your labia. His face flashes with manic delight at the sight of all the slick accumulating between your folds, and he speaks into his recorder again to detail his new findings.
“Subject appears to be physically aroused at the thought of being dissected.” He turned the tape recorder off and set it on a nearby table, turning his attention back to you, smiling in sadistic glee.
“Aren’t you just full of surprises!” he chirps, picking up his scalpel and holding it teasingly in your field of view. “If I’d known this is how you’d respond, I would have done this ages ago!” He brought the scalpel down, just barely pressing it into your solar plexus. A single drop of blood beads around the blade, and your breath hitches at the contact.
“I can’t wait to see how your body reacts to this.” That was your only warning before he fully pushed the scalpel into your skin, making an incision down your torso, stopping just above your navel. You let out an unholy scream that bordered on a moan as your skin opened up along the path he traced, your limbs shaking from the stimulation. You felt your breathing turn into heavy, open mouthed pants as tears rolled down your face and pooled on the table below.
“T-thank you sirr-” you managed to wheeze out between breaths. His eyes glitter with fascination at your words, in his 500+ years in this world he had never seen such an intriguing test subject.
“Fascinating,” he whispered to himself. He dug his scalpel into the same spot as it started, tracing the same path to open up the rest of your skin, revealing the tender red muscle underneath. You let out another pained cry at the incision, back arching as much as it could in the restraints. Dottore marveled at the way your chest heaved for breath, the way your tongue lolled out of your mouth, the way the pain was making you so stupid you were starting to drool . You wheezed out more expressions of gratitude to the doctor as he stared at you, cut open and twitching on his operation table. God you were so perfect . He had no idea how he got so lucky as to find a test subject as magnificent as you.
“You really are getting off on this!” he murmured to himself. You whimpered out an apology, one that he quickly shut up with a third incision, carving through the layer of muscle, finally exposing your innards to him. The sensation of the final laceration left your body shaking as you let out a guttural scream, your eyes rolling back into your head as you spasmed on the table for a good thirty seconds. As you settled back down, the first thing you noticed was the doctor’s hysterical, shark-toothed grin. He had swapped his scalpel for a needle and surgical thread, and was preparing to stitch his work back up.
“You orgasmed,” he said, voice dripping with unadulterated mania. “You orgasmed from being dissected. Do you like pain that much?” He began to push the needle through your skin, mending the cut he had made across your fragile torso.
“I only like it because you’re the one giving it to me,” you manage to sputter out after a few moments. “I love everything you give me sir. The scars you leave on me are the greatest gifts I’ve ever received.” He continues to close up the wound he made as you spoke, interest in you growing with each word you spoke.
“You such a captivating specimen, you know that?” he asked, closing up your wound with a sharp tug of his needle. He grabbed a syringe, emptying its contents into your neck and undoing the leather restraints that bound you to the table.
“Wait a moment before sitting up,” he instructed. “The serum I just injected you with takes a bit to fully take effect. It’ll accelerate your body’s natural healing process by quite a bit so that your everyday movement won’t be impaired by our work today.” He really did think everything through. You were grateful for that. You stared at the ceiling, breathing hard as you recovered from the operation. Without warning, you felt his strong fingers firmly grip your jaw, and turn your face towards him, smearing your own blood on your skin in the process.
“You’re so perfect 143,” he praised. “Your devotion is unmatched! You’re like an obedient little dog, always happy to get taken apart and put back together by your owner.” You nodded in dreamy agreement. You were happy to be his dog if he wanted you to be. You were happy to do anything he wanted. Hell, you’d let him kill you if he wanted. You laid on the hard metal of the table for a bit longer as Dottore wrapped up his process and cleaned up his tools. After the state of his lab was satisfactory, he scooped you up off of the operating table, and began to carry you towards his room to rest.
“Maybe we’ll get you a collar with your serial number on it. Would you like that?” he asked as he walked. You made a weak noise of agreement, sleep beginning to overtake your fragile body. He hummed with satisfaction, opening the door to his room and laying you down in his bed. You relaxed further into the blankets, smothering you in his scent.
“Sleep well 143. We have lots of tests to run tomorrow.”