The military recruitment office smelled like old sweat and bureaucracy, a crumbling Soviet-era building with peeling paint and flickering fluorescent lights. Dima, all of seventeen and cocky as hell, strutted in with his buddies Sanya and Kirill, their sneakers squeaking on the worn linoleum floor. They’d been summoned for what they figured was a routine medical check—a formality before dodging the draft with whatever excuses they could muster. But the air felt off, heavy with something unspoken, and Dima’s smirk faltered as they were directed straight to a dingy locker room.
“Alright, maggots, strip down! Everything off, down to your sorry skins!” barked Warrant Officer Grishin, a bear of a man with a face like a bulldog and a smirk that screamed sadistic glee. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his beady eyes glinting as he watched the group of young men hesitate.
Dima, never one to keep his mouth shut, shot back, “What, no foreplay, Officer? You gonna buy us dinner first or just stare at our junk all day?” A few nervous chuckles rippled through the room, but Grishin’s smirk only widened, unfazed.
“Keep talking, pretty boy. I’ll have you scrubbing latrines with your tongue by the end of the week,” Grishin growled, tapping a clipboard with a meaty finger. “Clothes off. Now. Or I drag you out myself.”
Sanya, lanky and perpetually anxious, muttered under his breath as he fumbled with his shirt, “This is bullshit, man. What kind of medical exam needs us buck naked? I didn’t sign up for a damn nudist colony.”
Kirill, broader and brasher, yanked off his jacket with a scowl. “Bet this perv just wants a free show. Hey, Grishin, you got a camera hidden somewhere? Gonna sell our asses on the dark web?”
“Keep yapping, Kirill. I’ll make sure you’re first in line for whatever’s upstairs,” Grishin snapped, his tone dripping with menace. “Move it!”
Dima peeled off his T-shirt, tossing it into a rusty locker with a dramatic sigh. “Fine, fine, but if I catch you staring, old man, I’m charging by the minute. Premium content, you know?” He winked at Sanya, who was now down to his boxers and looking like he might bolt for the door. “C’mon, Sanya, show some spine. Or at least a little more skin.”
“Shut up, Dima,” Sanya hissed, cheeks flaming as he finally dropped his underwear, covering himself with his hands like a kid caught stealing cookies. “This is humiliating. What the hell is this even for?”
Grishin clapped his hands, the sound sharp and grating. “Enough chit-chat! Line up, bare as the day you were born, and march your sorry hides to the upper floor. Special lab’s waiting.”
“Special lab?” Kirill echoed, his voice climbing an octave as he wrapped a towel around his waist, only for Grishin to rip it away with a sneer. “What’s that supposed to mean? You gonna dissect us or something?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Grishin said, herding them toward a narrow staircase at the back of the room. The sign above it read “RESTRICTED ACCESS” in faded red letters, and a chill crawled down Dima’s spine despite his bravado. The group trudged up the creaking steps, their bare feet slapping against cold concrete, muttering curses and complaints.
At the top, a heavy metal door swung open, revealing a sterile corridor that smelled of antiseptic and something faintly metallic. Standing there, like a queen surveying her kingdom, was a woman who could only be the head doctor. Tall, severe, and dressed in a crisp white coat, she exuded authority that made even Grishin straighten up. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and her piercing gray eyes raked over the group with a mix of amusement and disdain. A nameplate on her chest read “Dr. Irina Volkov.”
“Well, well, what a fine collection of specimens,” she drawled, her voice low and cutting, each word laced with a dangerous edge. She stepped forward, heels clicking on the tiled floor, and the boys instinctively shrank back, though there was nowhere to go. “I see Grishin didn’t spare you any dignity. Good. I don’t have time for modesty in my lab.”
Dima, unable to resist a challenge, piped up despite the heat creeping up his neck. “Lab, huh? You gonna turn us into super-soldiers, Doc? Or just play mad scientist for kicks?”
Her lips curled into a wicked grin, and she fixed him with a stare that could’ve frozen fire. “Oh, I like a smart mouth. Makes breaking you so much more satisfying. What’s your name, boy?”
“Dima,” he said, managing a smirk despite the way her gaze made his knees feel like jelly. “And I’m not easy to break, just so you know. Might even enjoy the challenge.”
“Is that so?” Dr. Volkov purred, stepping closer until she was right in his personal space. She tilted her head, inspecting him like he was a lab rat under a microscope. “Keep that confidence, Dima. You’ll need it for what’s coming. Though I suspect you’ll be begging for mercy before long.”
Kirill snorted, trying to mask his nerves. “Begging? For what? You gonna poke us with needles or just roast us with that tongue of yours?”
Her eyes snapped to him, sharp as a blade. “Careful, big guy. My tongue cuts deeper than you can handle. As for what’s next… let’s just say these ‘necessary procedures’ will test every limit you thought you had. And I don’t mean just your patience.”
Sanya, pale as a ghost, stammered, “W-what does that mean? Can’t you just tell us what’s going on? This isn’t normal!”
“Normal?” Dr. Volkov laughed, a cold, mirthless sound that echoed down the hall. “Sweetheart, you left normal behind the second you stepped into this building. But don’t worry—I’m very good at what I do. You’ll understand soon enough. Or you won’t. Either way, I’ll enjoy the process.”
She turned on her heel, gesturing for them to follow as Grishin prodded them forward with grunts and glares. “Move, ladies. The doctor doesn’t wait for anyone.”
Dima leaned toward Kirill, muttering, “I don’t know if I’m more scared or turned on right now. She’s terrifying, but damn, that voice…”
Kirill elbowed him hard. “Shut up, man. She’s probably gonna strap us to tables and zap us or something. Keep your dumbass flirting to yourself.”
“Jealous I’ve got game even stark naked?” Dima shot back with a grin, though his stomach churned as they were led into a sterile, clinical room at the end of the hall. The walls were lined with strange equipment—gleaming metal instruments, monitors blinking with incomprehensible data, and a faint hum that vibrated through the air. A row of examination tables sat in the center, each equipped with restraints that looked far too real for comfort.
Dr. Volkov turned to face them, her smile predatory as she crossed her arms. “Welcome to my domain, boys. Take a good look around. You’re not leaving until I’m satisfied. And trust me, I’m very hard to please.”
Before anyone could muster another quip, the heavy door slammed shut behind them, the lock clicking with a finality that sent a shiver through the group. Dima exchanged a glance with Sanya and Kirill, their bravado crumbling under the weight of the unknown. Whatever was coming, it was clear Dr. Volkov held all the cards—and she wasn’t about to play nice.
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