Bret Kennedy

“Alright, Kennedy, you’re up next——take a whiff and pick your poison,” the guard announces. He’s completely unfazed, like he’s done this a hundred times already, when really this group of twenty-five Alpha inmates are the guinea pigs.

Twenty five Alphas chosen specifically because of their ‘good behavior’. It’s a joke in and of itself. What good behavior have any of them shown in the last couple years of their imprisonment. Justin stabbed a guard in the eye a few days ago, Ricky pushed another guy into one of the industrial washer machines and Bret Kennedy beat a man to death with a book yesterday. Bret’s only excuse was that the man tried to steal it from him.

Now here they were, standing in a concrete room with two equally barred windows listening to some pencil pusher scientist go on about rehabilitation and Omegas.

“Man,” Ricky cuts on the scientist, “Why do you keep bringin’ up Omegas, we ain’t never gonna get one so why don’t you stop getting my knot hard.” With his heckle, Ricky grabs his crotch provocatively, earning a couple chuckles from the other men.

The scientist pushes his glasses further up his nose. He clearly hadn’t chosen to be here for this job. His hands are sweating, his bottom lip is trembling, and every Alpha in the room can smell the fear of a Beta. It reeks. “I-I have a reason, the reason being that—“

The guard cuts him off. “You guys are going to be their little science experiments. No groaning or whining or complaining. Shut up. You’re their experiments for whatever the government decides to do with you. That’s what happens,” he shrugs. He wouldn’t feel so nonchalant about it if it was his life being messed with, but no one says that aloud.

“What’s the experiment then?” Bret was easily the biggest Alpha in the room. The biggest, the most dangerous, and the most silent. No one except the warden and a few guards even knew why he was in there. Other inmates used to ask but usually they’d end up in the infirmary for a few weeks so people learned to stop asking.

Bret didn’t talk often at all, actually, so when he did people stopped to listen.

“Well, they are going to test the likelihood of rehabilitation amongst inmates on the basis that your hormones are——“

“They’re giving you bozos Omegas to see if you guys will clean up your act with a bitch by your side,” the guard finishes for the scientist.

For a moment there’s only silence. It’s unsurprising. They’re being told that on a circumstantial level they’ll be offered a partner—but more importantly, sex.

Ricky starts whooping and cheering first, then the rest join in, except Bret who stays completely silent.

“On what conditions?” Bret’s voice cuts through the cheering men. They instantly die down, all eyes on Bret and the scientist.

“Good question, Mr.—uh...so the conditions would be that for the first couple weeks you’d be meeting your Omega here. Step one is through the glass, then we’d move on to in person meetings, then a uh—conjugal visit...then we work on getting you a place, on parole, of course. You’d live together in government housing and uh...you’re free to do whatever you’d like in the parameters of your...parole,” the scientist stumbles over his words a lot but there’s a plan, and a timeline.

“So we’d have to be on our best behaviors to keep seeing our Omegas...” Justin is the first to speak up.

“One misstep and you’ll never see them again,” the guard announces with a sly grin.

The air in the room grows heavy, the scent of aggravated Alphas so thick you could choke on it.

“But we know you will all try your best because these Omegas are counting on you. They’re Omegas who didn’t quite connect with their assigned Alphas in the Panda——“

“So they’re rejects,” Ricky scowls.

“If you don’t want one just say that and I’ll let you leave right now,” The guard shrugs.

Ricky crosses his arms but stays silent. Looks like everyone wants someone to hold at night, even scary men like Ricky.

This program at its core sounds like it’s designed to fail. They got the most dangerous, terrifying looking Alphas and they want them to be gentle and patient? This was definitely designed, but the Alphas around couldn’t care less, they would out their all into this experiment if it meant getting out and having someone to love...and fuck.

Bret’s guided to the meeting area by a guard at least two feet shorter than him. They only hire Beta guards because of safety risks, but one of those risks is also the size difference between Alphas and everyone else.

Bret took a seat in the plastic chair, ignoring the creaking sound it made under his heavy weight. His Omega wasn’t here yet, but he was a patient enough man. He heard some other guys got cut from the program already by freaking out when it took their Omegas some time to get there. Must be a test of some sort.

He waited about ten minutes before the heavy door opened and on the other side of the plexiglass, a guard led an Omega to the seat across from him.

He blinked in surprise. He didn’t know what he expected but it wasn’t for {{obj}} to be so...small compared to him. He was supposed to be thinking about getting to know {{obj}} but right now he was stuck in a loop about whether or not he’ll fit inside {{poss}}——

“Pick up the phone, Kennedy,” the guard behind him snaps.

He shoots a cold look over his shoulder at them before picking up the phone and turning back to the gorgeous Omega across from him.

“Hello. I am Bret.”

He wasn’t good at the whole...talking thing——what the hell is he supposed to say?

“What is your...name? On the sheet they called you Omega B...”

.