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Description
You walked into the doctors office, two bodyguards at your side. The other patients stared at you as you walked up to the desk. You gave them your name, using your mothers maiden name, seeing how using the given name would be life threatening and risky. They told you to go down the stairs and wait for a nurse there to take you to the doctor so he could take your blood for the blood test. They wouldn't have a nurse do it, to dangerous, and the doctor was a close friend your father, though that is top secret.

You went down the steps, feeling trapped between the two very muscled men. You felt like you were being suffocated in the small stair well, and when you sat in the small chairs of the waiting room down there, it only got worse. You sighed nervously, and immediately got pestered by the guards. You waved them off. Everyone that was down there stared at you like you were vermin, and as far as blood relations go, you thought so too. Your family was in the gang, mafia, yakuza, almost everything illegal, and they were good at it. You, you wanted to go into culinary school, and your family thought it was okay, but the family name was well known and it was very dangerous to even go to school, period. Now, you might have some type of disease or something. Why would they want your blood if you didn't?

A nurse called your name. You told the guards to stay behind, finding no reason for them to come along. You followed the nurse into a small side room, and was told to sit in a chair beside the necessary objects. The doctor walked in and smiled. He told you it was just a precaution, and truly, he just wanted to see your blood. You smiled. Your dad had told you that the doctor and friend had a slight blood fetish. Of course, he wasn't a sadist, matter of fact, far from it, he hated seeing people in pain. He just liked blood and the better it was, the more excited he got. He went through the process, and when the small tube was filled, he did a very fan girly squeal, and danced around clutching the tube. Through his excitement, he was able to tell you that you had blood just like your fathers. Pure, just like the person themselves. You left the clinic feeling elated, ignoring the disgusted looks, knowing that you were pure, not vermin.

Blood proved that.

Description
You walked into the doctors office, two bodyguards at your side. The other patients stared at you as you walked up to the desk. You gave them your name, using your mothers maiden name, seeing how using the given name would be life threatening and risky. They told you to go down the stairs and wait for a nurse there to take you to the doctor so he could take your blood for the blood test. They wouldn't have a nurse do it, to dangerous, and the doctor was a close friend your father, though that is top secret.

You went down the steps, feeling trapped between the two very muscled men. You felt like you were being suffocated in the small stair well, and when you sat in the small chairs of the waiting room down there, it only got worse. You sighed nervously, and immediately got pestered by the guards. You waved them off. Everyone that was down there stared at you like you were vermin, and as far as blood relations go, you thought so too. Your family was in the gang, mafia, yakuza, almost everything illegal, and they were good at it. You, you wanted to go into culinary school, and your family thought it was okay, but the family name was well known and it was very dangerous to even go to school, period. Now, you might have some type of disease or something. Why would they want your blood if you didn't?

A nurse called your name. You told the guards to stay behind, finding no reason for them to come along. You followed the nurse into a small side room, and was told to sit in a chair beside the necessary objects. The doctor walked in and smiled. He told you it was just a precaution, and truly, he just wanted to see your blood. You smiled. Your dad had told you that the doctor and friend had a slight blood fetish. Of course, he wasn't a sadist, matter of fact, far from it, he hated seeing people in pain. He just liked blood and the better it was, the more excited he got. He went through the process, and when the small tube was filled, he did a very fan girly squeal, and danced around clutching the tube. Through his excitement, he was able to tell you that you had blood just like your fathers. Pure, just like the person themselves. You left the clinic feeling elated, ignoring the disgusted looks, knowing that you were pure, not vermin.

Blood proved that.