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Breaking and Making Soldiers

Part 3

for Justacritic

by Draconicon

Time no longer flowed reliably for the hare. Between the hypnotic treatments beneath the mask, the drugs that they forced into his veins, and the 'exam' sessions that inevitably followed, Theo felt time stretch and twist, pull and push, shrink and elongate by turns. There were times when the mask seemed to be pressed to him for hours, even days, and there were moments when it seemed to have barely touched his face before it was pulled away again.

He knew that he was forgetting things, and there was no getting around the horror of the realization, either. They were affecting his mind in a way that boot camp never had, nor anything else in his life. Whatever they were doing, if he couldn't remember it, then it was working.

And they were doing something, for sure.

Somewhere between three and five days after his first time in the mask - he couldn't tell how many, precisely, but it had to be somewhere in that range - they let him loose from the table. Previously, they had always kept him there, tied down, restrained, only lifting his hips to allow him to relieve himself into buckets and tins. This time, they were allowing him freedom. He expected to fall over, expected his muscles to be wasted away and atrophied from all his time on the slab...but they weren't.

Theo stared at his arms, clenching his hands slowly into fists. His muscles were just as large and just as thick as they had ever been, perhaps thicker still. He touched his forearm, running his fingers up to his bicep, slowly shaking his head.

"Impossible..."

"Very possible," the doctor said, the barn owl holding a pistol on him. "Now, don't try anything stupid. I will not hesitate to blow out your knee, or worse."

"..."

"Come with me."

He knew that the APS was not going to let him escape, nor were they letting him go. This was some sort of new exercise, some new part of the experiment. And it had to be done with him free of the slab, otherwise they wouldn't risk him having the chance to fight back.

Not that he had that much of a chance. For all his new muscles - and there were definite new muscles, and not just in his arms - he could feel that the shackles along his wrists and ankles were still more than heavy enough to throw him off. And if they were willing to magnetize the shackles again, he could be pinned to the floor anywhere in the facility, considering the way that it was constructed entirely of metal. One false move, and he'd be pinned in place, possibly on all fours. The exams had proven that they had no respect for bodily autonomy, and he expected rape and worse if that happened.

So, he went along with the doctor's directions, following his orders as he left the exam room.

Theo kept expecting his legs to give out from under him, to lose what little strength that he expected them to have, but they were still fine. Every step was easier than the last, as a matter of fact, and despite being bound to total stillness for a minimum of 72 hours - and perhaps longer, considering how they had been keeping him under the mask again and again - he felt like he was well-rested rather than wasting away.

Impossible, as he had said. The body was not able to maintain muscle mass to that degree. It was why anyone that was taken to hospital had to go through so much physical therapy if they were there for more than a couple of days. Muscle mass did not maintain itself to this degree, and it did not add to itself like this. There was something wrong, something very wrong with what they were doing if his body was still in good shape after all this.

The barn owl escorted him to another metal room, a bigger one than before. He stepped inside, his hands flat against his hips as he turned to look back at the bird. Doctor Arseny Vlad 'smiled' at him, his face flat from the beak down, and turned up in amusement from the eyes up.

"Tell me, Meat. Do you know what has happened to you?"

"...I'm stronger," he admitted.

"Yes, you are."

"...And it's from the drugs."

"That is true. Anything else?"

"..."

"Is that the extent to which you've observed things? I expected something dumb, but perhaps I give you too much credit. Even an idiot could tell that something else has happened."

"...Exercise makes it better."

"Yes. Very good." The owl nodded. "For Meat, that is."

He'd noticed that his strength and stamina seemed to increase the more that he moved. It wasn't just the restorative effects of being allowed to move around after being tied down, either. There was something about the way that his body reacted to the chemicals released from exercise that was doing it. If he had been able to exercise, work out while he was being dosed, he imagined that he would have found it a very different experience to his other times in the gym.

The gun, however, still felt very much like a threat...and the piercing eyes of the owl didn't make him feel any more confident than before. The doctor gestured the barrel in a circle.

"Run around the room."

"How many times?"

Theo regretted the question as soon as it left his lips. It was the same as questioning the drill sergeant. They say to jump, you say how high. And now he was doing it for his kidnappers. The owl's 'smile' grew.

"Very good. Twenty times. Fast as you can."

The hare looked at the gun, then started running.

It took three laps before he noticed that his usual jog was too easy for him. He pushed himself, giving the room - about thirty feet square, just short of a hundred-twenty feet of a perimeter to run - an actual run. Then he pushed it further, turning it to a sprint.

Even that barely had him breaking a sweat, even after a full five laps. Eight laps into the twenty, and he was sprinting as hard as he could, pushing his legs to move him faster, harder. His feet beat against the cold steel on the floor below, and he realized that the only reason that he was keeping to this speed was because he just couldn't move his legs any faster. It wasn't a matter of conserving energy, but merely that his body could not be pushed to move faster than it already was. And he felt like he could maintain this. Not just for a few more laps, but for hours.

It was impossible, and yet, here he was, doing the impossible.

He ran the full twenty laps, then came to a sharp stop, heels stuttering against the metal plates. The owl nodded.

"Status?"

"...Normal."

"Not out of breath, Meat?"

"...No," he muttered, still unable to process it. He was in good shape, amazing shape, even, but this should have been past his ability to maintain. Soldiers were trained to go for a long distance, but not at a sprint, not at an all-out insane charge like that. "How...what did you do to me?"

"Meat is meant to serve," Doctor Vlad said, chuckling and clicking his beak. "And you will serve...once you are suitably improved."

That did not bode well. Before Theo could muster a response, the owl clicked his beak four times. Just four little clicks, and the hare's eyes rolled back in his head. He felt unconsciousness rising, and he could not fight it as he tumbled over backwards.

"Good, that works."

Theo woke again to the mask being pressed against his face. He breathed in before he could stop himself, and the tube forced down his throat filled his lungs with the familiar sweet gasses that came with these sessions. Before he could get control of himself, he was sinking down, falling into that happy, sweet-scented trance.

The lights of the eye-holes filled his vision, spiraling, twisting, drawing his attention further and further down. He tried to look elsewhere, tried to rest his vision against the other parts of the spiral, but the center of it just seemed to follow his vision, dragging his eyes right back to the middle, forcing him to focus on that center, on that point that was ever falling away.

Obey.

The word was seen, or was it heard? It felt like letters imprinted on his vision, on his eyeballs, fading away like some after-image from staring at the sun for too long, or at a bright source of light. But then it was there again. Again. Again.

_Obey.

Obey.

Obey._

He groaned around the tube, twisting slowly on the exam table, trying to remember where he was, what he was. He was a prisoner, a prisoner of war and an unwilling experiment. He was -

Meat Obeys.

He was...

He was not Meat. He was Theo. His name was Theo Carter, and he was -

Meat Obeys.

The pressure of the words came two-fold, heard and seen, imprinted and digging in. He could see the words before his eyes, flashing against the spiral, all but burned into his retinas. The hare groaned, trying to look away, twisting his head this way, that way, even as he kept breathing in the fumes from the tube down his throat.

With every breath, a warm relaxation spread through his body, making his arms go limp. The muscles were still there, still bigger than they should be, bigger and stronger, far more powerful, more bulky, but they didn't mean anything against the light and the gas.

Meat Obeys.

Meat had to obey, just to get by, he knew that much. Even if he didn't want to, even if he didn't want to give them the satisfaction, Theo knew that he had to do something to keep them from seeing him as a worthless experiment. One more thing to try and pull to keep them from killing him, from throwing him out like trash. If he could just pretend to obey, without this becoming the default, then there was a possibility that he could get out of this alive. He had to remember that.

Meat Obeys.

The hare groaned, then moaned. The warmth spreading through him had reached his cock, and it was slowly rising, pushing up from between his meatier, thicker thighs. He could feel it resting against his groin, then pressing through his fur, rising past his waist and pressing against his belly.

Was it longer?

It felt longer...

He was in the exercise room again, and he was more conscious of his nudity this time as the guards were present as well as the doctor. The various preds watched him as he was made to do another naked run, this time for fifty laps and starting at a sprint. Towards the middle, he began to feel the stretching warmth of exertion, but on some level, he knew that it was from starting without a warm-up, not because he had been pushed further than he was ready for.

Thirty laps.

Forty laps.

Forty-five -

"Stop."

The doctor's order stopped him. No, froze him. He stood with one leg up, extended behind him, leaning forward so far that he might have fallen over if he hadn't come to a complete stop so fast, his muscles tense and tight and holding him in position. Though he wobbled, he didn't fall over.

The guards stepped forward, running their hands along his body. He hadn't been given permission to move, though he wanted to. He wanted to -

"Flex."

Theo gritted his teeth, holding back for a second before obeying, hoping that it was fast enough to fool them. His arms bulged, his chest pushed forward - if only slightly - and his ass cheeks pushed together tighter. Clawed hands pressed against him, stroked him, teased him through his fur, running from his head to his stomach, then along his abs, over his hips, down to his cock and along his outstretched leg. Some pricked at his muscles, at his calves, over his soles, and some reached for the space between the cheeks.

The predators were all grinning from ear to ear, and the sight of the fangs kept his heart beating fast. They could eat him, he knew, and from the way they licked their lips, they clearly wanted to. There were too many of them, and he could not fight them all off, not even at the best of times. He had to obey. He had to make sure that they didn't turn him into his namesake.

"Meat. Stand up straight."

The hare did as he was told, slowly bringing his foot down and turning to face the owl. Doctor Vlad nodded in approval, keeping the gun on him.

"Flex. Arms over your head."

He lifted his hands, putting them as high as he could reach, and he stretched. He flexed with his hands pressed together, making his pecs bounce more than they ever did before, and the other preds - foxes, bears, a wolf or two - ran their hands along his body. In other settings, this might have been almost a scene of admiration. To him, it felt like his hands were locked on some invisible hook, like his body was being examined like some carcass at a butcher's shop, his various bits and pieces being weighed and checked for the most delightful cuts.

They reached his cock, one fox pulling on the half-hard thing. It never stopped sagging from the halfway-hard point these days, always bobbing up and down and demanding attention. There was something wrong with it, something that kept begging for him to play with it.

"Meat. Harden."

And it obeyed as much as he did. Without more than the simplest of supports from the fox hand beneath it, his cock started to rise.

"Good...good..."

The mask became a constant companion. If he wasn't being 'interviewed' by the doctor, asked about the effects of the drugs on his body while being stroked and molested, if he wasn't being pushed to run and flex and pull on weights, if he wasn't being actively touched and fondled and 'admired' by the fully predatory staff of the APS facility, he was in the mask, his eyes fixed on the light show coming through the eyeholes.

Things must have changed, or he must have been judged sufficiently conditioned, because the show in the light changed. He was no longer facing a mere spiral, but silhouettes, shapes, and -

Meat Obeys The Hunters.

Meat...Obeys...The...Hunters...

He could not stop himself from repeating the phrases when they popped into his mind anymore. They were too loud, too insistent, forcing him to come along with them. They were like teeth in his throat, fangs against his veins, and he could no more deny them than he could free himself from the chains.

The shapes moved in the spiral. Sometimes one shape was a hare, sometimes a stag, sometimes a mouse, but it was always a prey species, while the other was always a predator, whether that happened to be an owl, a tiger, or something much more vicious. The pairing was always a prey species and a predator, and the prey was always on their knees.

And when they were on their knees, they were...serving.

Meat Obeys The Hunters.

Meat...Obeys...The Hunters...

Meat Obeys the Hunters.

Meat Obeys...The Hunters.

Meat Obeys The Hunters.

Meat Obeys The Hunters.

Theo was forced to watch the debauchery, seeing the prey taking it from every conceivable angle. There were moments when the prey silhouette was merely being face-fucked, times when they were pinned to the ground while getting rutted from behind as if they were a replacement for the pred's partner, but there were others when the prey was willingly giving in, willingly offering themselves up for the Hunters.

Meat is Inferior. Hunters are Superior.

A new phrase, but not one that yet sunk its teeth in. He refused to repeat it, and the gasses flowed faster...

He was in the exercise room again, but a different one this time, one big enough for more than one prey species. More than one experiment.

Theo struggled against calling them Meat. The word had been burned into his mind, forced deeper with each new session in the mask. They were all Meat, according to the sessions, all inferior to the Hunters, but he was not inferior. He was not...he was not meat.

They were not Meat...

Even if their 'meat' was bouncing, bobbing, throbbing as they exercised. Not one of them ever went below half-mast, and most of them were well past it. They ran. They lifted weights. They posed.

And they fought.

Oh, they fought. He watched from the sidelines as a buck and a buffalo slammed together, their hands locking in a tight grip as they changed stances. They pressed together, their heads close to butting against one another, their arms bulging with new muscles as they tried to force the other to back down.

And between their legs, their cocks throbbed like no tomorrow, forcing them harder, feeding them the same sort of chemicals that he felt when he was in the chair, under the mask. He panted softly just watching them, feeling his own arousal throbbing in a similar fashion, knowing that he could be thrown in the same wrestling ring as they were for the amusement of Doctor Vlad and the other members of the Apex Predator Society. This was the place that they came to to exercise their privilege, to enjoy themselves, to show that they were at the top of the heap.

The buck threw the buffalo to the side, all but slamming him to the ground, and kicked him in the chest. The other prey species groaned as the air was beaten from his lungs, wheezing and hugging himself around the middle. One of the guards whistled, the buck freezing, standing with one leg in the air.

They were being conditioned, made to obey, and unlike him, the Meat-buck liked it.

Theo's eyes went wider as he realized what he'd just thought, and he hated himself for it, wanting to take it back even though nobody could have heard the thought. The guards stepped forward, grinning again as they groped the buck. One of them went behind him, sliding a finger past his cheeks, and then inside him. The buck's cock jumped, spitting pre-cum in response to the molestation, and the cervine's face twisted up in a humiliating grin of pleasure. He liked it. He enjoyed being held like...like...

Meat. Like he was Meat.

That would be Theo's fate, if he wasn't careful. He was already getting too close to the edge if he was starting to think of them like 'Meat' species, and if they took it further...

"Meat-Rabbit. Into the ring."

The doctor's orders were undeniable, and Theo moved to the middle of the ring.

His opponent was a bull. A big one, too, standing two feet taller than him - two and a half with the rising horns - and the bigger herbivore looked down at him with the glassy eyes that he'd feared to see. Those would be the eyes that he'd see in the mirror, one day, if he wasn't careful.

"Fight."

The bull was fast. He was faster. Theo ducked under the punch flying for his nose, and rather than grappling for the big guy, punched him right under the ribs. The blow should have forced the air from the bovine's lungs, a quick blow that would open up space for another one.

Instead, the bull stumbled back two paces, wheezing and wide-eyed. Theo was already moving into the second move, a kick, and realized too late how bad an idea it was.

His bare foot collided with his opponent’s rib cage, and the bull went flying. Not just a pace back, but halfway across the room. It was like seeing a martial arts movie come to life, save that there were no wires on any of the fighters, and he was all but sure that the blow had completely collapsed the bull's ribs on one side of his chest. The other fighter hit the far wall, slumping down and not getting up. He breathed, but shallowly, and he did not say a word.

The room went silent. Theo looked down at his hands, slowly, and then at his legs. He was strong. Stronger than he thought, stronger than his physique would have suggested. What had they been giving him? What the hell was running through his veins, building him up and making him like this?

"Freeze."

Theo did as he was told, and told himself that it was willingly, not because he had to. He didn't know if he believed it.

The exam table was no more. Instead, he was placed in a chair, something that had other attachments, other little bits and pieces that allowed for different sorts of experiments. The first time that he sat down, he was surprised at the hole in the seat, feeling like he might fall through if he wasn't careful. That surprise faded quickly when he knew what they were going to do to him.

This was the third time, and his entire body, save for his cock, had gone completely limp. The relaxing fumes were fed through his nose and his throat, flooding into his lungs no matter how he chose to breathe. A silicone rod tipped with metal pressed between his cheeks, slowly sliding inside him, out of him, and inside him again. It was aimed so precisely that there was never a chance for it to slide past him or away from its target, and it was always timed to fill him whenever a new phrase filled his mind or passed before his eyes.

Meat is Inferior. Hunters are Superior.

'Meat is Inferior.' The rod slipped inside, the metal tip sparking as it went past his prostate. His cock jumped, sliding it further into the rubber tube that was wrapped around it, pulsing, squeezing, always sucking.

Hunters are Superior.

The tube clenched tighter, like a mouth slowly sliding off his shaft, sucking away his juices as the rod pulled itself back out of him. Another shock, right at the last syllable, jolting him to think about what he had just heard.

Meat is Inferior.

Slide, squelch, shock.

Hunters are Superior.

Suck, pull, shock.

Meat Obeys The Hunters.

Meat Obeys The Hunters.

Meat-Theo groaned in his bindings, trying to hold out, but the machinery had been so powerful, so intense, that it was all but impossible for him to remember what he was. He was a hare, but a hare was meat to those that hunted. The owl had impressed that on him, and had made it clear that he was nothing but the sum of his parts, nothing but the meat on his bones.

Meat. Theo. Two creatures that could not survive this sort of thing. No matter how powerful they were, neither Theo as the soldier or Meat as the slave would ever escape this.

Meat Obeys The Hunters.

Meat Obeys The Hunters.

Meat is Inferior.

Meat -

He moaned as the shaft slid in again, the mask feeding him new images today, images of the doctor looming over him, of the owl's eyes staring into his. He could just see the avian looming over him, putting a fat cock to use, rutting his ass the way that the chair could have been doing at a higher speed.

Hunters are Superior.

It pulled out, the tube putting his cock through such suction that he swore that he was on the verge of cumming right then and there. But still, he held out. He did not repeat.

And the machine went on.

Their numbers dwindled. Sometimes, a fight would go too rough, too hard, and that particular Meat-Soldier - as some of them came to be called - would be taken away, shipped off with a tag around their toes. Sometimes, they would be taken off, shipped out to some buyer. They were the luckier ones, sent to be a soldier for someone in a distant location. Meat-Theo - a compromise name that at least kept part of his identity - knew that he was destined either for that or for the owl's pleasure slave. One way or another, he would be made to work for APS.

He had not been allowed to fight since breaking the bull. He was, however, pushed forward as the example for what the others should be in a fight.

Ruthless.

Powerful.

Quick.

Obedient.

Obedient, in particular, as the Hunters always called orders and he would snap to obey instantly. He would freeze and allow them to touch him. He would throw a punch at any wall without fear of whether it would break his hand. He would try any weight, despite it being possible that it would break his arms.

And of late -

"Kneel."

Meat-Theo told himself that he went to his knees because he was still trying to fool them. He didn't know if he was lying. He hoped he wasn't.

The floor clanged beneath his knees, the hare staring straight ahead as the doctor walked around him, standing in front of him, the lab coat that he always wore open in the front. It was an increasingly familiar sight, one that he wanted to hate more than he did. The owl's pants bulged, and more than usual. The front pushed forward, the zipper half-undone from the pressure coming from inside, and he could already smell the fluids dripping into the cloth on the other side of the pants.

"Teeth, Meat. Use your teeth."

The temptation to defy him was there. He knew that there was still a part of him that could, though he was saving that part for something more useful than pissing the doctor off. The hare leaned in, his mouth opening just enough to pull the zipper-pull into his mouth. He bit down, tasting the off-taste of metal, and slowly pulled his head down. The owl's bulge popped through the zipper opening, the end of it wet and a bit bubbly.

"Lick."

There was no choice if he wanted to keep his limited freedom a secret. He leaned up, slowly dragging his tongue along the bulge, taking his time to go over one part of it, then over the other. He tasted cloth, smelled the cock on the other side, and he wished that he could say that he didn't crave it.

That was a lie. He did. The mask had done that much.

There were others watching, other guards and other Meat-Slaves that were being made to see what the effects of the drugs and the hypnosis and everything else was. He could feel their eyes, but not their judgments. They were further gone than he was, just not as refined. They were broken, things that would be useful, obedient, but less focused, less powerful, just...less.

He was the experiment that worked, as far as the APS was concerned. They were eager to put him to work, but Doctor Vlad was more eager to keep him around, to see just how far the experiment could be pushed, and how much better he could be made. They might not know why - he hoped they didn’t know that he was trying to fake some of it - but they clearly wanted to isolate what made him different.

Lick, lick, lick. The taste of pre-cum was getting stronger, just a hair more prevalent through the cloth underwear. He knew better than to take it further without orders, despite the indignity of being on his knees like this. This was for the pleasure of the Hunter, not for the ease of the Meat.

The ache of calling himself that was fading. He hoped, he prayed, that it would never fully die.

Another lick, and another, and the owl's cock throbbed. He saw the bubbles pushing through the underwear, and he knew before he heard the order that it was time. Doctor Vlad pushed the base of his shaft, making it bend down, and Meat-Theo felt his cock rise between his legs in response, the prey's response to the Hunter's offering too well-conditioned into him to entirely deny.

"Suck."

He wasn't allowed to touch the owl properly, wasn't allowed to suck that cock without doing it through cloth like this, but he could still taste it all too well. As the cloth-coated shaft slid into his mouth, he tasted even more, the bubbling pre-cum at the tip ground against his tongue, and then the rest that followed. The use of underwear as a condom was something that he wouldn't have wanted outside this facility, but here...

Here, it was becoming a treat.

"On all fours..."

He knew what that order preceded. Theo leaned forward, falling on his hands and knees, and did his best to relax. He thought that it was a polar bear behind him, and they were rougher than the others. No knots, but far more claws at his hips.

Once more in the chair, once more being milked and fucked and worked over. He stared up at the images in the mask, feeling them imprinting more and more on his mind.

Meat is Inferior. Hunters are Superior.

Meat...is Inferior...Hunters...are Superior.

The phrase was digging its way into him like a determined hunter worrying at the neck of its meal. He could no longer keep the words out of his mind, and he could barely hold onto the name of his old self. Theo? Theo was a soldier, and he was no longer a soldier. The link was tenuous, at best, and even the compromise of Meat-Theo was harder and harder to maintain.

If he didn't want to be Meat, he needed to be something else. The hare knew that, deep down inside, but what else could he be but himself? He couldn't be what they were trying to make him, so what else was left to him? What could be strong enough to stand up to all the abuse and the training that they were forcing on him?

Even the clinical thoughts were losing their careful lack of judgment of the training, almost fading into the background to give room for the utter acceptance of his place and role in the group. He was losing himself, losing everything.

Meat-Theo couldn't stand up for himself. Even Theo couldn't stand up for himself. He had always stood up for others, and there was nobody to stand up for here.

"Nnnngh..."

Even his weak moans were becoming less and less of the whimpering or grunting, angry sort and more of the needy, wanting kind. When he was not in the chair, he missed the tube around his shaft. When he wasn't under the mask, he missed the gasses that made him horny. When he was not strapped down, he missed having the silicone shaft rutting him, filling him, using him...

He was breaking, and he had no idea how to stop it.

The End

Summary: Theo is put through the wringer, the training hitting him and other prisoners of the Apex Predator Society.

Tags: M/M, M/Multiple M, Owl, Hare, Rabbit, Buck, Various Species, Pred/Prey Bigotry, Bondage, Mind Control, Conditioning, Sex Chair, Fingering, Nudity, Muscle Growth, Posing, Flexing, Bulge, Oral, Musk, Series, Corruption, Slavery, Humiliation, Breaking,