I’m sorry that you feel that way, sir. Clearly something went wrong during the process and we weren’t able to diagnose it promptly to fix it. Oh, I’m sorry. I think you must have misunderstood, sir. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with your pup. He’s very cute, very playful, very healthy, and very happy. Although I can tell that he’s worried about you. He must be picking up on your anxiety.

Um, no. Sir. How do I put this in a way that doesn’t seem insensitive? You know what, there isn’t a way to do that so I’m just going to come out and say it. Something is wrong with you, sir. And that’s the fact of the matter. The science doesn’t lie, and while the tests aren’t 100% accurate, they’re accurate enough that we are inclined to believe them.

Well, I know that you don’t feel like there’s anything wrong with you, sir. But it’s not like people who have cancer feel like anything is wrong with them at first. No, I’m not saying you have cancer, sir. I’m saying that there’s something that’s not right with your Alpha programming. You’re not supposed to feel threatened by other Alphas.

That’s kind of the whole idea of the Hierarchy, sir. Everyone knows where they belong in the Hierarchy, and while moving up and down the Hierarchy is possible, it doesn’t happen at the expense of others. We’re not savages squabbling over territory or mates like rutting deer. Not to mention the fact, sir, that your omega being matched to another Alpha when you’ve already bonded is vanishingly small. There is simply no real reason to be concerned. And in fact, by all means, you shouldn’t, be.

So why don’t you just sit there, sir, and we’ll figure out what we can do to fix you.

We’ve managed to get to the root cause of your distress, sir. As it turns out you were taken in under the old system, is that correct? Well, Hierarch Industries has made a pretty significant discover with regard to roles in the Hierarchy. In your initial evaluation, you presented with all the markers for an Alpha, is that correct?

No, sir, I’m not saying that you’re not an Alpha. What I’m saying is that you belong to a class of Alpha that we only discovered recently. We’ve designated them sub-Alphas. Sub is for submissive, sir, yes. No, it doesn’t mean you’re actually an omega. No, it doesn’t mean that you’re supposed to like it "up the ass," although the way that you say it, sir, I’m sure that you’ve indulged yourself in receptive anal sex before. What it means is that you present and identify with all known Alpha behaviors but seek to do so in the service of another Alpha.

Around the time that this classification of Alphas was discovered, we also figured out that the normal Alpha formulation is unsuited for sub-Alpha needs. The absence of the guiding and reassuring presence of an Alpha can lead to feelings of anxiety, and insecurity, as well as the development of a combative attitude in sub-Alphas, which would explain all of your symptoms.

What we’re going to do today is administer a special form of the omega formulation known as a "flush" solution to revert your genetic makeup back to what it was before you underwent your Alpha transformation, and then we’re going to administer the sub-Alpha formula. I’m sorry, sir, but company policy makes this mandatory for all sub-Alphas found to have been wrongly inoculated with the standard Alpha formula. Trust me, sir, you’ll feel much better after this.

You passed out shortly after the two shots were administered. As you come to, you can feel someone stroking your back and your butt. The feeling of those warm, calloused hands on your soft, smooth skin sends a shiver of arousal through you that makes you moan. "Good morning," says a deep, sexy voice from next to the bed. You look over in that direction and see someone that is, undeniably, an Alpha, sitting on a stool beside your bed. He has one hand in your pup’s hair, gently petting him.

You bare your teeth and growl. The doctor laughs. "They did tell me you were a precocious one," he says, swatting you on the butt. You feel a flush of arousal, and then indignation. How dare he? He’s the one playing with something that belongs to you. You’ve already glared at your mate, jerked your head onto the empty space on the bed beside you, and barked before you realize what you’re doing.

The doctor notices the confusion in your eyes. "Well, it looks like your mind likes the idea of being a nasty, protective guard dog over your delicate little mate over here," he says, with a quiet laugh. "And I have to say, I find the idea quite hot."

The doctor rubs his crotch. You look at it and tilt your head, curious to see what he’s hiding in his scrubs. "Anyway," he says, "you and your mate are going to come live with me and mine from now on. Seems like you and I are compatible. And we could use a pair of pups to play with from time to time."

"Tell you what. I’m going to give you and your mate a moment alone so you can process this together. I’m sure it’s all new and scary," he says. "I’m just going to leave this here. Put it on and come find me when you’re ready. Training for you starts tomorrow." As he gets up to leave, he puts a heavy leather collar down on the table beside your hospital bed. There’s no tag on it yet. You haven’t been named yet, as a dog. But for some reason you already want to put it around your neck.

This is certainly not how you expected your request to get a guard dog to go, but you’re not sure if you would have wanted it to go any other way.