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The day after my little tryst with Arthur and Rika, I found myself on the verge of collapse again. I couldn't stop thinking about Nola, and the Lump in her armpit, and wondering what horrors the Warden was visiting on her. I needed to get into the Spike. I needed to rescue her. But there was no way in--the doors to the Spike were not only massively heavy, they also had no handles. The only way to get in was if someone let you in. So, I had to convince them to let me in.

But how?

My waking thoughts were consumed by it. When I picked at the limestone walls of the Maw, I was actually asking, How do I make them let me in? When I was breaking down limestone in the rock pile, I was actually asking, How do I make them let me in?_When I was eating breakfast, or lying in the dirt next to the trough recovering from my rotations in the Maw, or when I lay down next to Artie and Rika to fall asleep, I was actually asking, _How do I make them let me in? Both tried to get me to have sex with them, probably to help me get my mind off the question poisoning my thoughts, but I wasn't interested. Eventually Arthur just rolled over, and Rika curled up against me, her head on my stomach and her arms wrapped around my thigh.

The moon rose and bathed the Den in its light through the slats above the slop buckets, and I was still asking that stupid fucking question that refused to just answer itself. I was never particularly blessed with a plethora of brains like Nola. As hot-headed and stubborn as she could be, she was also the smarter of the two of us. She could see a situation, work out the variables, act. It was why she took down a Canid twice her size without breaking a sweat. Nola was a badass. I was... well, just an ass.

So instead of working out variables, or concocting schemes or plans of attack, I just kept asking the question over and over without really trying to formulate an answer. I just kind of hoped it would magically answer itself. If ever you needed proof that the gods love an idiot, here it is: the question did answer itself, or rather it was answered for me. Just not right then and there.

After an hour or so of moonlight, with Art and Rika's chests moving steadily up and down, I extricated myself from my mate's limbs and headed to the slop buckets. I stared down into one of the less filthy ones. I didn't really need to pee, I just didn't want to lie down anymore and there wasn't anywhere else to go. After a few minutes, I glanced to the left and saw a familiar, faint outline in the wall adjacent to the floor: the old loose stone leading to the yard. Just beyond it, out of sight of the posted guards, a little patch of shadow where Van used to train us. I hadn't been out there at night since our teacher had died. To me, that little nightly safe spot had died with Ollivander.

Now, though, I had a pang of nostalgia. I hunkered down and gripped the familiar edges of the stone and gently pulled. Slowly but surely it slid with a whispering scrape across the floor. It had taken me over half a year for my fingers and limbs to be strong enough to move this damnable thing. Now it was shockingly easy; honestly, it wasn't really that big of a stone. If it wasn't for my stunted frame, it would actually be a damned hard hole to squeeze through. Art sure as Hells wouldn't be able to.

I wriggled like an eel until I flopped out the other side, dusting off my ears and stomach. Far off to my left, a single guard stood facing slightly away from me. There'd be no way they could see me unless they turned and faced me directly, and even then it would be tough from this distance. I looked around the patch of ground that had been so familiar once upon a time. Nola and I had packed down this dirt over so many nights that it was rock-hard by the time our training ended two summers later. Now it was cracked and crumbling under my big feet. A dull blue-gray stone sat nearby, its surface mostly flat, and I could picture the old Lontramar sitting on it, hands on his knees, glaring disapprovingly at us as we fought, tallying up the mistakes in his head to recount after our bout was over. Always as he sat on that rock.

I padded over to it and placed one thin, bony hand on its cool surface. It had lost the heat from the summer sun already. I sat down on it and stared at the world as Van had seen it during our nightly training sessions. I pictured Nola and me, locked in battle, me swinging some stupid ungainly punch, Nola catching my arm in both hands, twisting, and sweeping my leg, all as graceful as a dance, and me planting my dumb face in the dirt for the thousandth time.

My column of mistakes always had more tallies than Nola's. Even at the end of our training, if you had asked me if I'd ever be able to take on not one but two opponents nearly twice my size, I would have laughed in your face. And if it hadn't been for the dream, I wouldn't have been able to. But I had dreamed it, and I'd done it.

"Are you proud now?" I asked the night sky bitterly. "Are you proud of me, Van? Course you aren't. You're dead. But if you weren't, you still wouldn't be. You always hated me. I was the burden Mom shouldered you with, because she felt guilty about what she did. I was just... just a burden. Why would you be proud of a burden?"

I caught movement in the corner of my eye, and there was Rika, sitting at the hole, watching me. She looked sad, but also content, like sitting there watching me chastise the sky was relaxing. I dunno, maybe it was. Regardless, I stopped talking and stared sheepishly at the ground, waiting for the questions to come. Why didn't you tell me about this place? Why were you talking to yourself? Why did you make your sister save me like a coward?

Instead, when she finally spoke, she asked, "Are you okay?"

I mean, strictly speaking, that was a stupid question. Of course I wasn't okay. I was yelling at dead people and freaking out over my sister. But she said it with such quiet earnestness that I started crying. Why did she care so much about me? I was nothing. Garbage. Garbage brother, garbage student. Garbage mate. Oh, gods, I'd bred her last night. She would have kittens (kits? Hells). Then I'd get to add garbage father to the list. I didn't even know who my father was. Mom had never mentioned him, and we'd been too young to think to ask. Nobody else talked about having fathers (hardly anyone ever talked period) so why would we? I had no idea how to be that.

Rika knelt in front of me as I sat on Van's rock, staring down at her and sobbing as quietly as I could. She kissed my thighs all over, licking here and there to clean where dirt still held. Her fur was no longer as glossy as it had been when I met her; the Pit was finally taking its toll. But it was still a gorgeous shade of copper, and if her hips and breasts had shrunk some from malnutrition, she was still the shapeliest woman here, and her golden eyes hadn't lost their luster.

"Why?" I asked in a shuddering voice.

Rika didn't respond, simply cocked her head inquisitively before continuing her kisses. I guess she wasn't sure what I was referring to. I guess I wasn't either.

I finally started talking. She stopped kissing my legs and instead rested her head against them, staring up at me as I spoke. She looked so much younger in that moment, like a dirty child listening to a bedtime story. It made my chest ache for her.

"Ollivander was a Lontramar. He killed Blake. Blake was my first--" I stopped. Blake hadn't been my boyfriend, not really. I just told myself that because I knew what we'd done was wrong. "He was my first. I was very young. Six summers old, to be precise. Blake was an adult. Van took offense to that. He killed Blake for what we did together. And he killed Mom, too, because..." Shit, this was hard to say to her. "She didn't participate, exactly, but she watched. And got off on it. Before he killed her, she asked him to teach us. Make it so we could defend ourselves, so it would never happen to us again. Van agreed. Then he killed her."

Rika didn't speak. I was scared to look at her reaction, so I kept my eye on the distant guard instead. They hadn't moved. They never did--they were too disciplined for that. My mate eventually squeezed my thigh gently, encouragingly. So, I took a deep breath and kept going.

"Van was hard. Brutal, even. We took more licks from him than we ever have from the guards. He didn't reward a bad hook or a weak forward kick with a 'nice try, do it again.' He rewarded it with a dislocated shoulder or bruised shins and black eyes. He was ruthless. He hated us, and I think he resented his promise to Mom. But he kept at it. For almost two years, he snuck us out here every night and put us through a dozen katas and countless spars. Nola always won. Nola was--"

I stopped as my voice cracked on my sister's name. She's not dead, I reminded myself. Get it together. Keep going.

"The fumes from the Maw, they do different things to different people. Most people just get the Lumps. Once they hit the lymph nodes, you're dead. It's only a matter of time. Sometimes if they find them under your armpits, you've got a good two years left or more. But the lymph nodes... for whatever reason, if you get Lumps there, you've got months, at best. But it's not technically the Lumps that kill you. Eventually you're so weak and ravaged with pain that you're no longer useful, so the Scrofa just throw you in the Maw. That's bad enough. What happened to Van was worse."

Rika kissed my thighs again and gave a little lick on my dick, but she wasn't trying to start anything fun; it was a sign of affection. She rested her head again and waited. I stroked her ears before continuing, rubbing at the base of each of the little triangles. She closed her eyes and gave a squeaking growl of pleasure. Finally, she squeezed my thigh, signaling me to continue.

"Van lost his mind. Some days he was lucid, his normal self. Other days he'd have fits, writhing around on the ground, clawing at things on his flesh that weren't there. The fur that hadn't already fallen out was a mess of raw wounds and angry red scars. He was barely recognizable by the time he died. Most of his fits lasted a few hours, but his last one went from dawn to dusk to well into the night. Eventually he just... died. His body couldn't take whatever was happening. His face... he looked like fear itself had murdered him."

Rika finally spoke. "I'm sorry, baby. That must have been awful."

I shrugged. I was too ashamed to tell her I was relieved for the first time in six months. Six months of wondering if Van was going to have a fit in the middle of the night during training. Twice we'd had to pin him down and cover his mouth with our hands to shut him up. The fact that we were able to overpower him was proof enough he was dying. I didn't tell any of this to Rika--there was only so much I could admit in one go.

"Van sucked. He was a bitter old bastard who took it out on Nola and me. But he was also the one who taught us how to fight, how to defend ourselves. Before Edge came along, I'd have said Nola and I were competent. Now I know I'm competent and Nola's a gods-damned force of nature." I finally turned my face down to look at Rika, and her beautiful angular face blurred and distorted as tears streamed out. "I need my sister back, Rika. I need her back. I can't lose her."

When I blinked, the world returned to focus a little, and Rika stared morosely at the ground. "What about me?" she asked. She was clearly trying not to make it sound sullen, but it did anyway. "Do you need me?"

"Yes," I said without thinking. But... was that true? If I lost Rika, it would hurt. It would hurt so fucking bad I don't know if the wound would ever heal. But would I die? Would I go mad and die? Because that was what was happening with Nola gone. I was losing my fucking mind, and it would end in my death if I didn't do something about it.

I had to wonder how much of that was on my face, because Rika didn't look particularly convinced by my response. She stood up and dusted off her knees. She came up a little past my face when I sat, and she bent down a little to kiss me. "You have the means to get into the Spike already," she said plainly.

I frowned. "What?"

She sighed and looked both exasperated and amused. I liked that look. It made my groin stir despite my misery. "You are so beautiful," she said, "so I guess you're allowed to be an idiot." I scowled at her, but she just ran her fingers through the fur on my cheeks and licked my nose, slowly dragging her little pink tongue up the bridge, then sensually kissing each of my eyelids. The stir became the beginning of an erection. "What do you suppose would happen if I took your cock into my mouth right now?"

"Uh," I offered sagely.

She smirked and poked a finger at my wet nose. "Specifically, how would it end?"

"W... with me cumming in your mouth," I whispered hoarsely. "Which sounds... kind of nice right now."

She shook her head. "You're cute, but you're not being very bright. No, I'm asking so you can have your answer."

"Uhm, what?"

"Sweet summer child," she whispered exasperatedly, stroking my neck. "I do like them young and dumb, don't I?" She stroked my chest fur next. "You would ejaculate, honey. Think about it for a minute."

"No think," I groaned. "Wanna do." Shit this was torture.

"Tell you what," she said with a mischievous grin. "You get to the answer, and I'll let you mount me."

"No fair, bad thinkie," I grunted as she touched the shaft of my erection. "Uh. E... ejaculate. I would... ejaculate... uhhh..."

Rika rolled her eyes and sighed melodramatically. "I'm not the only one interested in the fact that you would ejaculate," she offered helpfully.

"Uh... yeah... Artie... he likes it too..."

Rika gave my dick a playful swat. It didn't hurt, but it felt uncomfortable enough that it brought my brain back to full power, and the answer lit up my thoughts like a thousand torches. "The Warden asked if I could ejaculate." I don't think I'd ever seen Rika grin so wide. "He wanted me. He wanted me as soon as I could ejaculate." I frowned at her. "Why, though?"

Rika's grin faded into a deadpan stare. "Seriously?"

I gently extricated my erection from her hands and put a few inches of distance between us. I was finally on a roll and I needed to work this through with at least a partly clear head. "Yes, seriously. He's taken young boys before. Way too young to be able to cum yet. So it's not a kink. He wanted me. But he wanted _me_to be able to ejaculate. He needs me to be able to do that for... something. I don't know what. But it's important to him, and I don't think it's just for his sexual gratification."

Rika bit her lip. It was sexy, but I didn't think that was what she was going for at that moment. She looked pensive. "Honestly, honey, that scares me more than if he was just going to use you as a cocksleeve and throw you away after."

I wanted to ask her what a cocksleeve was, but I decided it could probably sort it out on my own later. "Maybe," I said, "but it's a way in. But it could be months before another inspection. They're coming faster, but not fast enough. I can't wait four months, Nola might not survive that long."

Rika kissed me again. "We'll think of something, baby. Don't worry. For now, come back to bed and have your reward."

I hesitated, but she licked my neck twice and that was all it took to sell me. When you're young, pleasure often wins out over all other concerns.

She led the way back inside, and I carefully replaced the stone before returning to our sleeping spot next to Arthur, who was still fast asleep. Rika dropped immediately to all fours and offered herself to me. "Get me ready," she whispered. I stared at her blankly. She rolled her eyes. "Lick, you goof."

"Oh. Right. I knew that." I leaned forward and darted out my tongue, testing the flavor of her lips. They tasted heady and musky, but a sort of musk altogether different than Art's crotch had been. Lighter, in a way. I dove my mouth in and began licking greedily, shoving my tongue as deep into her as I could make it go. It put my nose directly on her anus, and I could smell her hole with every breath I took. I lapped at the inner walls of her vagina, grasping her ass cheeks and massaging them.

Rika shuddered and whispered, "Down. Where the lips meet. Lick there."

I didn't want to move my nose from that intoxicating scent, but I reluctantly did as she asked. I licked experimentally at the spot in question and found a large bump there. My first instinct was fear--I thought I'd found a Lump--but Rika's reaction wasn't pain or discomfort at having it touched, so clearly it wasn't that. Instead, she quivered and uttered a breathy moan of, "Ohhh, yes baby... right there... that's my clit... give it some love..." No argument from me. I lapped at the nub over and over, and Rika started moaning louder. "Suck it," she whimpered. I clamped my lips around the bump and suckled, flicking it with my tongue as I did.

Rika's reaction was to cry out and shove her back end against my face. My nose disappeared into her pussy, and my mouth suddenly filled with squirts of girl-cum, not as thick as mine but with a strong flavor all its own that I gulped down as quickly as I could. It may not have been as thick, but holy shit, there was a lot of it. My erection had become painfully hard, bouncing wildly as I devoured her clit. She practically screamed when I applied just a little more suction with my lips and rubbed up and down with my tongue. The more I did that, the more she sprayed my mouth and face with her juices in gushing bursts. I couldn't swallow it all at this point, so I didn't try. The straw floor beneath us was soaked by the time Rika managed to wail, "Cock... right now..."

I raised myself out of her crotch and wiped my soaked face before shoving my dick into her drenched hole. I was so hard that I barely had time to start thrusting before my balls tightened and my cock throbbed a warning. "C-cumming," I managed.

"Inside!" she snapped.

Yes, ma'am.

I tried so hard to keep thrusting, but once that first load shot into her belly, I couldn't handle the pure sensation. I gripped her waist and pressed myself as hard against her as I could, pumping gob after gob of hot semen into her. I couldn't meet her screams of pleasure with anything other than a whimpered moan of ecstasy. My hips shuddered violently as the last few spurts dripped into her, and we collapsed in her puddle, licking each other's fur between gasping breaths.

After several moments of trying to catch our breath, a voice in the nearby shadows said appreciatively, "Nice." I had no idea why, but that struck me as hilarious, and I fell into a fit of breathy giggles.

"Boys," Rika huffed, but her eyes glimmered playfully as she said it. She pressed her face into my neck and nuzzled into me. "We are a fucking mess," she muttered.

"Mm," I agreed.

"You have earned a very extensive tongue bath in the morning."

"You too," I murmured.

"It's a date," she whispered, and we drifted off to sleep.

* * *

I dreamed again that night. I knew right away it wasn't like the Other Dream. Scrofa danced around me, chanting rhythmically in a language I didn't understand. They had their halberds, but otherwise they were naked. Women with thick, puffy labias and men with strange, noodle-like dicks stepped in an odd cadence, arms at angles from each other as they dance-marched in an oblong circle with me at their center. The weirdest part wasn't that the Scrofa were naked, it was that I wasn't.

I wore pants like those I'd seen in my dream about Pirate Nola, but of a drab brown color, and cinched with hemp rope at the waist instead of colorful sashes. Strips of cloth bound the baggy pants closed at my ankles and served as makeshift shoes. A blouse of forest green adorned my torso, its loose sleeves also bound close to my wrists by more of those bandages, which were wrapped all the way up past my first knuckle on each finger, and all the way down to my elbows. Over the shirt, a plain black vest. Strangest of all was that some kind of thin metal gauntlet covered my right hand. It radiated the menacing aura of a weapon, and the comfort of protection. I'd never seen clothes like these before, and I didn't immediately understand they were clothes at first. I thought my skin had turned odd colors. I'd seen clothes all my life, of course, on the Scrofa guards, but I'd never worn them myself. It was a little disorienting.

As I looked back up, I saw another figure standing on the outside of the chanting circle. The Warden loomed larger than life, standing twice as tall as the Scrofa around me, his bright white garb punctuated with a massively poofy hat of the same color, all of it embroidered with gold tassels, belts, and buckles. He rubbed his large belly and licked his lips as he stared at me.

I looked around, panic welling in my chest. The weird chant, I realized, ended in a higher tone than it started. It was inquisitive; they were asking me something over and over, but I still had no idea what they were saying. I looked up pleadingly at the giant Warden. "What are they asking me?"

The Warden's eyes turned pitch black as he pulled a massive erection out of his pants and began stroking. "Don't you know, little Herbivore?"

I suddenly knew I didn't want him to finish. I shook my head vigorously, hoping to keep him talking, keep him distracted so he wouldn't reach orgasm. He moaned, and it sounded like mountains collapsing. "Oh, little boy," he gasped, stroking faster. The knot at the base began to swell. "Ohhh... ejaculate, little boy!"

He stroked faster. I hesitated. "What? I don't want to."

He laughed breathily as he stroked harder and faster. His pace began to become erratic. "No," he panted excitedly. "That's... uhhnnn... that's what they're asking you..."

As the Warden began to climax, I could suddenly understand the dancing Scrofa. They stopped their movements and turned to face me in unison, their tusked, porcine snouts cocked inquisitively--all in the same direction.

"Ejaculate?" they asked in unison, as an ocean of semen erupted from the tip of the Warden's cock, washing all of us away in a pearly white tide. A current dragged me under, and I found myself in milky darkness.

* * *

When I woke, I shot straight up, sending Rika sprawling away from me. She let out a sleepy, angry protest but otherwise didn't move. I looked around frantically, but of course I was still in the Den. Where else would I be? The confusion of vivid dreams began to dissipate, but my franticness did not. I leaped to my feet and ran to the door of the Den. The light was just starting to pour in--the door would open any minute.

From behind me I heard a sleep-addled Arthur mutter, "Fucking hell. Who pissed themselves next to me last night?" A sniff. "Oh, gods, that's not--dammit, Rika!"

I didn't react to it. I simply waited impatiently, bouncing from one foot to the other. From behind me, Rika called, "Leon?" There was a streak of worry under the grogginess. She knew something was up.

"Fine," I said, a little more edgily than I meant to. "I'm fine. Better than fine. I'm amazing. I'm gonna save Nola."

"W-what?" Now there was confusion with the worry.

Just then, I heard the bar lift on the other side of the door and it swung open. Two Scrofa in standard splint mail and halberds stared down at me. "I can ejaculate!" I said to them immediately. "Tell the Warden I can ejaculate!"