I Woke Up in a Reverse World Utopia with a 10,000 to 1 Ratio-Chapter 15: Veterinarian

The pill sits in my palm like a tiny white promise, or threat, depending on how you look at it. I stare at it, this chemical shortcut to arousal, wondering why they think I need it when just the thought of Kate gets me going these days.

"Take it, Tyler," Kate had insisted earlier. "It’s protocol for all scheduled sessions."

So here I am in my standard-issue fertility robe, all white, naturally—contemplating this little circle of pharmaceutical assistance while waiting in the Department’s formal reception area. The glass of water they’ve provided sits untouched on the table in front of me, condensation beading down its sides.

With a resigned sigh, I pop the pill and wash it down with a gulp of water. The liquid is ice-cold, making my teeth ache as I swallow.

The door swings open, and I instinctively rise to my feet as Kate enters. But it’s who follows her that makes my breath catch.

A woman in a pristine white military uniform steps into the room, her posture rigid with authority. Her jacket gleams with so many medals and pins it looks like she’s wearing armor made of precious metals. A crisp white beret sits at a perfect angle on her closely-cropped hair.

But it’s her face that commands attention, a tapestry of scars crisscrossing every inch of visible skin. Some are thin, precise lines, others jagged and angry. They tell a story of survival that makes my single facial scar seem like a paper cut in comparison.

She stands rock-solid, muscles visibly defined even through her uniform. Everything about her screams combat experience and absolute control. This is someone who’s seen things that would break most people.

"Tyler," Kate says, her voice warmer than usual, almost proud, "come meet your guest."

I step forward, suddenly aware of how thin my robe feels, how exposed I am compared to this battle-hardened officer. My mouth goes dry despite the water I just drank.

"Hello," I manage, extending my hand on autopilot.

The scarred woman studies me with eyes that miss nothing, assessing me like I’m a potential threat. Her gaze lingers on the scar running down my face.

"Subject 7D-42," she says, her voice surprisingly soft despite its authoritative tone.

Kate sighs, a hint of exasperation crossing her freckled face. "Harper, please use his name, not his designation. I just told you this outside." Her voice is gentle but firm, the same tone she uses when correcting me about something important.

She turns to me, her green eyes softening. "Tyler, this is Staff Sergeant Harper Vale. She’s a decorated veteran. A true war hero. Please take good care of her."

My stomach does a nervous flip as Kate starts moving toward the door. She’s already leaving? I thought she’d stay for this, whatever "this" is supposed to be.

"You’re going?"

Kate pauses at the doorway, her hand resting on the frame. "Don’t worry," she says with a reassuring smile. "If anything happens, I’ll know." There’s a weight to her words that makes me think she’s not just being comforting, she really will know.

"Okay," I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel.

And then she’s gone. The door hisses shut behind her, leaving me alone with Harper Vale, whose face remains completely unreadable as she studies me.

The silence stretches between us, thick and uncomfortable. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, hyper-aware of how thin my fertility robe is. The pill Kate made me take is starting to work too, a warm, tingling sensation spreading through my lower abdomen.

The silence grows unbearable as Staff Sergeant Vale continues her assessment.

"I, um..." I clear my throat, trying to find my voice. "Should we... I mean, do you want to maybe sit down first? Or would you prefer to just..." I gesture vaguely toward my body, feeling my face burn hot enough to melt steel.

Harper’s expression doesn’t change, not even a flicker of emotion crossing her scarred features. She stands perfectly still, like a statue carved from pure discipline.

"What I’m trying to ask is..." I take a deep breath, forcing the words out before I lose my nerve completely. "How would you like to proceed with this? With the... reproductive session?"

Harper’s lips finally twitch.

"Am I allowed to touch you?" she asks, her voice soft but direct. The question catches me off guard.

"Yeah, I don’t mind," I respond, feeling the fertility pill warming my blood further.

Harper nods once, decisive, and gestures toward the bed in the corner of the room. "Let’s move over there," she says, and I follow her lead, my bare feet padding across the cool floor.

When we reach the bed, she turns to face me, her scarred features illuminated by the soft overhead lighting. Up close, I can see that some of the scars are surgical, others less cleanly made.

"Can I undress you?" she asks, her tone making it sound like a standard military request rather than something intimate.

"Would you rather I..." I begin, reaching for the tie of my robe.

She stops me with a raised hand, firm but not harsh. "I’d like to do it myself."

"Sure," I agree, letting my hands fall to my sides.

Harper steps closer, her movements precise and controlled. I feel like I’m being approached by a predator, but not in a threatening way, more like something powerful that hasn’t decided what I am yet. Her hands rise to the knot holding my robe closed, and I notice they’re calloused but steady, not a single tremor as she works the fabric loose.

Her fingers work with military precision, undoing the knot with a swift tug. The robe parts, exposing my chest and groin to the cool air of the room. My body responds instantly.

Harper’s scarred face remains stoic, but her eyes change, darkening with what I can only describe as hunger. Her calloused hands reach out, hovering just above my skin.

"May I?" she asks again, her voice lower now.

I nod. Her hands make contact with my chest, and I’m surprised by how warm they are against my skin. She explores methodically, fingers tracing me with scientific precision at first, then with growing appreciation. The roughness of her palms creates an unexpected friction that sends shivers through me.

"You’ve been well cared for," she observes, her fingers trailing lower, following the faint line of hair down my abdomen.

When her hand reaches my erection, I inhale sharply. Her touch is tentative initially, just a whisper of contact that makes my pulse quicken. Then she wraps her fingers around me, her grip tightening with gradual confidence.

"Is this acceptable?"

"Yes," I manage to say, my voice embarrassingly breathy.

With unexpected gentleness, Harper places her other hand on my shoulder and guides me backward toward the bed. Her touch is careful, controlled, like she’s handling something fragile that might shatter under too much pressure. I allow myself to be positioned, sinking onto the mattress as she stands over me.

"Remain there," she instructs, stepping back slightly.

I watch, transfixed, as Harper begins to undress herself with the same methodical precision she’s demonstrated since entering the room. She undoes her belt first, then her pants, before folding them with crisp, perfect corners.

"Do you have a hanger?" she asks, holding the perfectly folded pants.

"In the closet," I reply, gesturing toward the small wardrobe in the corner.

She retrieves a hanger with economical movements, carefully arranging her pants before turning her attention to her medal-laden jacket. Each pin and decoration is handled with reverence as she removes the garment and hangs it alongside her pants. Her shirt follows.

Finally, she stands before me, completely naked.

Harper’s body is like nothing I’ve ever seen, a living battlefield map, crisscrossed with scars of every shape and size. Some are surgical, precise lines; others jagged and angry, telling stories of violence and survival. But beneath this tapestry of healed wounds, her form is absolutely stunning, all lean muscle and controlled power. Her shoulders and arms are defined with strength that comes from actual combat, not vanity workouts. Her stomach is a washboard of tight abs, and her legs look strong enough to crush a watermelon.

Though, she’s not Kate.

Harper approaches the bed, her eyes never leaving mine as she climbs onto the mattress. When she straddles me, the warmth of her thighs against my sides sends electricity racing through my veins.

"Is this..." she begins.

"It’s all fine, Harper," I cut her off, sensing her rare moment of vulnerability. My hands hover near her hips. "Would you rather me be on top?"

She shakes her head, a flash of determination replacing the uncertainty in her eyes. "No," she says firmly. "This is my one shot. I want to savor it."

"Alright," I say, settling back against the pillows.

She reaches between us, her fingers wrapping around me with practiced efficiency. I watch in awe as she positions me at her entrance, the heat of her already evident against my sensitive tip. Harper’s eyes lock with mine as she slowly sinks down.

The sensation is overwhelming as just my head breaches her warmth. I gasp at the tight heat enveloping me, so different from Kate yet undeniably pleasurable. Harper pauses, adjusting to the intrusion, before gradually taking more of me inside her.

"Fuck," I breathe as she finally settles fully onto me, our bodies completely joined.

A deep moan escapes her too, the first truly uncontrolled sound I’ve heard from this otherwise disciplined soldier. The vulnerability in that sound affects me more than I expected.

Harper’s eyes flutter closed as she begins to move, establishing a slow, deliberate rhythm. Her hands brace against my chest. Her palms pressing into my skin as she rises and falls with increasing confidence.

I grip her hips, feeling the hard muscle beneath soft skin, marveling at the contrast between her scarred exterior and the silken heat gripping me from within. Each roll of her hips sends waves of pleasure coursing through my body, intensified by whatever was in that pill Kate gave me.

"You can move faster," I urge.

Harper’s face tightens with concern. "I don’t want to hurt you," she says. Her movements remain measured, controlled, as if she’s afraid her strength might somehow damage me.

I can’t help but scoff at her caution. Without warning, I plant my feet firmly on the mattress and thrust upward, matching her downward motion with a force that makes us both gasp. The sudden depth makes her eyes widen, pupils dilating with surprise and unmistakable pleasure.

"I’m not made of glass," I growl, gripping her hips tighter and setting a more demanding pace.

Something shifts in Harper’s expression, a barrier breaking down, as she surrenders to the rhythm I’ve established. Her head falls back, exposing the column of her throat as a guttural moan escapes her lips.

"That’s it," I encourage, watching in fascination as this battle-hardened warrior comes undone above me. Each thrust draws new sounds from her, raw and unfiltered, nothing like the controlled soldier who entered the room.

Her hands find mine, guiding them from her hips to her breasts. The scars continue here too. I trace them with my thumbs as I cup her weight, feeling her nipples harden against my palms.

"Tyler," she breathes.

Harper rocks faster against me, her motions growing urgent. The controlled soldier is gone, replaced by something wild and primal. Her breathing becomes ragged, punctuated by soft grunts as she grinds down harder with each descent.

"Oh shit, Harper, I’m..." I gasp, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. The pill amplifies every sensation, making my skin hypersensitive as Harper’s inner muscles clench around me. "I’m getting close!"

Harper’s expression transforms as she senses my impending release. In one swift motion, her scarred hands fly to my face, cupping my cheeks with surprising tenderness. Her eyes lock with mine, fierce and desperate.

"That’s right," she gasps, her voice breaking with raw emotion. "Fill me up, Tyler. Make me pregnant. Please..."

Her plea shatters something inside me.

"Oh fuck," I groan as the dam breaks.

My release crashes through me like a tidal wave, each pulse emptying deep inside her welcoming heat. Harper’s eyes never leave mine as I empty myself completely, her fingers trembling against my skin.

My entire body quakes with aftershocks, pleasure pulsing through me in diminishing waves as Harper remains perfectly still above me. She’s watching me with an intensity that’s almost unnerving, her face softening as my breathing gradually slows. I can feel her muscles still rhythmically clenching around me, milking every last drop.

When I finally catch my breath, Harper shifts slightly, settling her weight more comfortably as she stays firmly seated on me. There’s something reverent in the way she places her palms flat against my chest, like she’s savoring this connection between us. Neither of us speaks. The only sound in the room is our gradually slowing breaths.

"Thank you," she finally whispers, revealing something raw and vulnerable underneath. "I’ve waited a long time for this opportunity."

I’m not sure what to say. This moment feels both intensely personal and strangely clinical all at once. Before I can formulate a response, a sharp knock breaks the silence.

"Alright Harper, let’s not dawdle." Kate’s voice cuts through the door, professional but with an undercurrent of something colder.

Harper’s eyes widen slightly. "Of course, Director Flynn," she calls back, her voice instantly returning to its formal cadence.

With grace, she lifts herself off me, immediately cupping one hand between her legs to prevent any leakage.

I nod, not knowing what else to do as I watch her awkwardly maneuver off the bed while maintaining her hand position. The fertility pill is still coursing through my system, making my skin hypersensitive. Even the brush of the sheets against my back feels overwhelming.

I watch as Harper quickly dresses herself.

Kate opens the door just as Harper finishes adjusting her medals.

"You can see yourself out now, Staff Sergeant," Kate says, her tone cool but not unkind.

Harper gives a curt nod, her scarred face unreadable as she glances at me one last time. Kate watches her go, waiting until the door closes behind her before turning her attention to me.

"Kate," I whimper, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. My skin feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending still crackling from that damn pill. "I still feel so sensitive. Everything’s... intense."

Kate’s expression softens as she takes in my disheveled state. She gestures toward the adjoining bathroom door. "Go take a shower," she says, her voice gentler now. "The cool water will help with the heightened sensitivity."

I nod gratefully and push myself up from the bed, wincing as even the air against my skin feels like too much stimulation. My legs wobble slightly as I stand.

"I’ll meet you there in five minutes."