Yes

In the cougarfolk communitues, nudity on moonfeasts is customary.

You whisper quietly to yourself, a blessing of your people, partly because it popped into your head, and partly because you hope it may offer some semblance of comfort. And it does.

"Let the light of the moon be the hand of the goddes on my flesh."

The moonfeast is a celebration of existence, praising the moon goddes Nyx for her blessings of life, and asking her to be merciful until the next moonfeast. Offerings are made and praises are sung.

Most of the people dance naked, in their human form or is catguise. It was here that people realised. The nephew of the prince would be no tomcat. You would be a broodmother. A womb for carrying cubs. Everyone saw your small manhood, your friends, family and neighbours.

You hadn't thought about it that morning a few moths ago, not realizing your 18th birthday was around the corner. You quickly, and regrettably, discovered, that your penis was below average.

From that moment on you dreaded your 18th birthday, but it was inevitably approaching.

And here you are.

Sitting, in a hospital gown, on the examination table, awaiting a doctor to tell you what you already know.

You would never be the man your dad hoped you to be.

It is silent inside the room, but you do hear voices from outside the room, and soon enough, the door opens and an elderly gentleman walks in.

He introduces himself, but you don't really listen.

"Mr Ericsson, would you mind standing up, for the measurement?"

It takes a second for you to register, but you gingerly do as he asks.

He has a small caliper and a roll of measuring tape. And he quickly measures you.

Unsurprisingly, he says, "Mr Ericsson, you measured below the average for males of your age, and so, you will receive the injection, do you understand?"

You nod. So be it then.

He asks you to lie down on the exam table on your stomach. You do so.

"You may feel a slight prick, followed by some abdominal discomfort, but it won't last long." Without waiting for an answer he lifts up your gown, exposing your, quite pale, ass. Nothing happens for a moment. In the reflective equipment in the corner of the room, it almost seems like he is adjusting his dick.

You roll your eyes, pervy doctor, what a surprise.

Indeed, you feel a prick on your left ass cheek, then a second later, your stomach grumbles and your feel a weird, almost swelling, sensation in your abdomen.

It doesn't hurt, thought for a few minutes you feel a tad bloated.

"All done Mr. Ericsson, feel free to take your time, I'll just bring back some papers for you to sign."

He leaves you to your fate, momentarily, and you sit upright. The swelling in your gut slowly subsiding. Though, you don't particularly feel different.

Now you have been, metaphorically, shackled to a life of breeding and birthing. How fun. You are still brooding when the doctor comes back in.

"Here are some legal papers you will need to sign, stating you have indeed gotten the injection, and some other things."

Whether you want to injection or not is not a choice you get to make, so there are no contract you have to sign with the government stating you give consent to the procedure, it is simply not a choice. However, you do need to "promise" them you will have babies, and give them "permission" to forcefully impregnate you, should you not fulfil this obligation.

Though, the contract means nothing, as you know from the stories you've heard, the government will impregnate you whether you allow them or not. The only "escape" is, is to get pregnant by a lover or a broodmate.

Then they will leave you alone.