Family Deported

Carson woke to gray light through the blinds and the same dull, unfamiliar awareness low behind his balls.

The thin band around the rim of his asshole was still there. Smooth. Seamless. A quiet, constant presence every time he shifted under the sheets. He lay still for a long time staring at the ceiling, replaying the consultation room, the tablet with the payment schedules, the moment Dr. Hart had told him the interface was seated at the anal verge instead of where he had assumed. The money had already begun moving. The NDA sat in his mind like a locked door.

He dragged himself upright, pulled on yesterday’s jeans and a clean t-shirt, and stepped into the hallway.

The apartment was wrong.

Voices carried from the living room—low, official, overlapping. A woman’s measured tone he recognized immediately. Dr. Elena Hart. Another voice, male, bureaucratic. The soft electronic chirp of a tablet being updated. Carson’s stomach dropped. He walked downstairs barefoot, one hand on the railing, and stopped at the bottom.

The living room had been cleared of its usual clutter. Two mainland officials in plain dark jackets stood near the couch. Dr. Hart stood in the center of the room with a tablet in one hand, white coat over the same simple blouse and slacks she had worn the day before. She looked up when he appeared.

“Carson.”

No one else was in the house.

Ashley’s purse was gone from its usual hook. Jessica’s oversized hoodie was missing from the back of the kitchen chair. The coffee maker sat cold and untouched.

Dr. Hart’s voice stayed calm and clinical.

“There was an emergency detection overnight. Your mother and sister both registered positive for the Dominion genetic rewrite. The change is uncommon on the mainland this late after the original vaccine exposure, but it still occurs. Protocol is immediate containment and deportation to the island. They were taken at approximately 3:40 a.m. You were still under residual sedation from the procedure and were not woken.”

Carson stared at her.

The words arrived in pieces. Mother. Sister. Positive. Deportation. Island.

“They’re gone?”

“They are alive and in transit. Processing is already complete. They will be fully integrated into Dominion residential assignment by this evening.”

He took one step forward and stopped. The thin ring around his hole felt suddenly heavier.

“You can’t just—”

“The government can and did.” Dr. Hart’s tone did not change. “This is not optional. Unmonitored futanari on the mainland present an unacceptable risk. Your mother and sister are no longer classified as standard civilian. They are Dominion residents now.”

One of the officials finished something on his own tablet and gave a short nod. The two of them left without speaking to Carson. The front door closed. The apartment felt larger and emptier than it ever had.

Dr. Hart remained.

“I understand this is a shock. You are allowed limited contact once they clear intake. Phone and monitored video. A cure is still the primary research goal of several mainland programs, including the one you are now part of. The clinical trial you signed yesterday feeds directly into the same data set that may eventually produce either a reversal or a reliable method of urge control. If either is achieved, return to society becomes possible. Until then, the island is the only legal residence for them.”

Carson’s voice came out flat.

“They’re just… gone.”

“They are alive. They will be provided for. And you are still able to speak with them.” She studied him for a moment longer. “The procedure site remains stable. Avoid anything that stresses the interface for the next twenty-four hours. Compensation continues on schedule. If you experience medical complication, use the number on your discharge sheet. Everything else is closed under the agreement you signed.”

She left the same way the officials had.

The apartment settled into a silence that felt permanent.

Carson stood in the living room for a long time. The ring around his asshole pulsed once, soft and warm, then quieted. He walked through every room. Ashley’s bedroom was neat, the bed made, a single blouse left on the chair. Jessica’s room still smelled faintly of her shampoo; the phone charger was still plugged in beside the bed. The kitchen held yesterday’s dishes in the sink. No note. No explanation beyond the one the doctor had given.

He sat at the kitchen table and stared at the empty chairs.

The day stretched.

He did not eat. He did not open the laptop. He moved from the table to the couch to the hallway and back again, the thin band around his hole a constant reminder that the same research program that had taken his family was the one now sitting inside his body. Every time he passed the living-room window he expected to see Ashley’s car in the driveway or Jessica’s figure on the sidewalk. Nothing appeared.

Afternoon light slid across the floor. He thought about the last ordinary conversation he had had with either of them. His mother’s tired voice telling him to stop living like a bum. Jessica’s sharp little comments from the couch. The ordinary irritation of living under the same roof. All of it gone in a single overnight detection.

Evening came.

The apartment grew dark except for the single lamp he finally switched on in the living room. He sat on the couch with his phone in his hand and waited.

At 9:17 the screen lit up with an incoming call from an unknown number marked Secure Dominion Relay.

He answered.

“Carson?”

Ashley’s voice. Clear. Steady. A little tired.

“Mom.”

“We’re okay.” She spoke the words carefully, the way she always had when she wanted him to believe her. “They processed us together. We’re in the same residential wing. It’s… clean. Quiet. They gave us a full orientation. It’s not what anyone would choose, but we’re safe. They’re treating it like a long medical relocation.”

Jessica’s voice cut in from somewhere close to the phone, bright and already annoyed.

“It’s basically a vacation with better weather and worse rules. Also, heads-up, Mom and I both woke up with the biggest cocks we’ve seen in a while. Like, actually ridiculous. People keep staring. We’re getting a lot of attention already.”

“Jessica.” Ashley’s tone sharpened the same way it always had at home.

“What? He should know. It’s not like we can hide it. Mine’s already—”

“Enough.” Ashley pulled the phone slightly away; Carson heard the muffled sound of her covering the receiver and speaking low and firm. When she came back her voice was controlled again. “We’re fine. We can call on a schedule. They’re saying research is ongoing. That’s something.”

Jessica muttered something in the background that sounded like “biggest ones on the transport, I’m just saying.”

Ashley exhaled.

“Something’s come up on their end. They need us for another intake scan. We’ll call again when we’re allowed. I love you. Stay in the house. Don’t do anything stupid.”

The line clicked.

Carson sat with the phone still pressed to his ear long after the call ended. The empty apartment pressed in around him. His mother’s voice. Jessica’s sharp, careless words about the new weight between their legs. The casual way she had said they were already getting attention.

He lowered the phone.

The screen lit up on its own.

A single clean notification.

Endpoint attached.

Carson stared at the two words glowing in the dark living room of the house that no longer contained anyone but him.