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Abusing the Vastayan

Part Three

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by Adagiodajiang

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Part three of three.

Dimly, slowly, the cat blinked back to consciousness. He didn't think he could call himself a Vastayan anymore, not as his backside oozed the slick, rank seed of the minotaur, a fuck-hole to be filled, his body broken, abused. He didn't want to live, closing his eyes, even as the minotaur hefted him up by the scruff of his neck, his thick mane clasped in a gigantic hand.

“Bring him to the operating table, slave."

Alistar did not respond. There was no need to. Whether he was a slave or not was up for debate, controlled against his will, yet not owned. The minotaur stomped and jerked, some part of him striving to fight the potions, yet it was a losing battle as he hauled Rengar down a corridor with alchemy powered torches lighting the way to a large room with an operating table in the centre.

He was tossed there, everything happening to him rather than playing an active part in his life, no longer a Pride Hunter. Rengar would never have had the stomach to return to his kind, not after all that had happened, shattered, broken, his pride non-existent.

Rengar was proud. A Vastayan was noble. What did that make him then, groaning weakly on a bloodstained operating table at the end of his days, when all he had longed for was a passionate life of hunting?

Nothing. That was what it made him. Nothing.

If that was his day to die, so be it. It could not be better than living. Exhaling in a weak rush of breath, akin to a death rattle, Rengar closed his eyes.

Humans surrounded him, but they did not strap him down. He was too broken to fight back, their long, plain coats covering their clothes, masked faces only revealing eyes, dark and beady. They were not the eyes of anyone that would help him, metal tools flashing, a scalpel, a drill, worse.

No. Best not to think about that. It was time to go. Time to die, time to go. Maybe some would only hear his name spoken with honour.

“Halt."

He swallowed, quivering. What was that?

The Chem-Baron shook his head, his hand raised.

“No experimenting. I will provide another body for you. A man, Singed… He has given me some interesting information. I will deal with him further. Stuff this Vastayan in a cell. You might still be of some use, feline."

Broken. Humiliated. Wishing for a death that was not to come. What more could happen to Rengar?

He didn't fight back as he was dragged to the cell, steel bars on the door, a prison with other screaming, hollering, bellowing occupants, all in as hopeless a position as him. He did not react, merely slumping to the stone flood, reeking of piss and bodily waste, even blood too. If that was where he was to die, he thought bitterly, wavering on the edge of consciousness, he could not have thought of a more appropriate place for a beaten Vastayan to meet their end. Dying in battle would have been a privilege for the strong and he had been shown, very clearly, that he was not strong.

“Yes…"

The Chem-Baron's voice drifted back to him, the man walking away.

“Spliced DNA… The monster… Useful…"

Unconsciousness claimed him once more before he could hear or comprehend, though Rengar knew with a sick twist in his gut, stomach jumping, that it was nothing good.

There he slept, blacking out, in his own sweat, someone else's piss, a broken heap of a feline.

*

“Release me!"

Maybe he was not the weak, helpless feline that he had thought he was, his body a little stronger, recovering, though he had hardly been fed in the cell. Suspended by his wrists, he dangled in the middle of the room, roaring, swinging, throwing every insult and curse at the Chem-Baron standing before him that he could. His dulled fur lay closer to his body than usual, except where it had been roughed up from not being groomed properly, yet such things were not of one's greatest concern while in prison.

Blue light glanced off him, alchemy powered lights showing him at the peak of his fury. Yet all Rengar wanted to do was to strike down the Chem-Baron before him who had turned his life into nothing more than a living hell.

The Chem-Baron smirked, perfectly safe with the chains holding Rengar dangling in the air. The metal brace that had been locked around the feline too helped, though he kicked and snarled, heaving and grunting, until that snapped, a foot slicing through as Rengar caught a weak spot at just the wrong moment. Yet a Chem-Baron could always dig deeper into the framework of his toys when such matters amused him. The feline was still suspended there, the brace clanking and clanging, though not loudly enough to overcome his words.

“Singed has given me such interesting information though, cat, don't you want to hear it?" The Chem-Baron said, stroking the stubble on his chin, eyes dark with glee. “Oh, you do. Warwick, the beast hunting me, is not as simple as I made him out to be. It's quite marvellous, really, a beast made from human and monster DNA – not simply a werewolf. And that is quite what I have here, cat: the DNA of a monster!"

Rengar snarled and showed his teeth, his limbs aching, though some time had passed and he had healed, at least in part. His spirit was still there as he bared his teeth in a fear roar, a bone-shaking roar that would have sent any creature with sense in them quailing, quaking. Yet his fury was born from fear, lacking the conviction and bite behind it that might, all when he was as powerless as some of the prey that he had hunted before.

Helpless. Weakened. Yet he still snarled and thrashed, putting every ounce of broken strength into swinging back and forth. If only he could swing high enough to get his feet into the chains, perhaps…

But it was a hopeless endeavour – too late. Far, far too late for him, reeling in horror as the tubes and dildo that he had suffered initially at Ixtal whirred out from the machines lining the room. Everything there seemed designed to cause the utmost pain and humiliation and yet his head swam as he fought and fought, the broken frame of the metal brace jostling him.

He cursed and cursed, the Chem-Baron stepping closer.

“Don't rush, kitty… Oh, I have another gift for you. Zaun rarely has a Vastayan quite like you, ah, staying here… SO, I wanted to give my dear, dear citizen… Eyes open now."

Yet the horror unveiled as the only wall of the room that was not loaded with machines rustled, a long, floor-length curtain slowly sliding back. The mechanism rattled, yet not even that could overcome Rengar's roar of horror at the floor to ceiling window that was behind it.

It could have been bad, but it was worse, his stomach dropping, the dildo and tubes growing closer and closer, the main street of Zaun outside, filled to the brim with human beings.

People. Humans. So many of them, some just passing by and others standing to watch, pressing up to the glass as if he was a freak show. Rengar roared, thrashing, shame and anger burning through him, clawing at the pit of his stomach, his bare body displayed to everyone, every bruise and welt and scar displayed. Even in the moment, the Vastayan could not have said what was worse.

“No! You shall not use me! I will kill you! I will kill all of you!"

But his threats fell on empty years as more gathered, laughing and pointing, amused at the “fighting kitten" in the window, the one that had been put there to demonstrate to them what the Chem-Baron had been working on. Yet the Chem-Baron, after a machine had snapped another metal brace around the feline's ankles, came in closer, stroking his body even as Rengar struggled furtively, chest heaving, gasping, sweating with physical exertion.

“What a body… This will have so much use, kitty, you won't have to be ashamed soon, I promise you."

What did he mean? Rengar's guts twisted, the dildo prying under his tail, as if it was about to penetrate him, but stopping short, the tube brushing his cock. The Chem-Baron handled him as if he had as little feeling and mentality in him as an animal, stroking Rengar's arms, down from his shoulders, his pectorals, his abdomen covered with thick fur, even around to his backside and tail, still with a kink in it. Rengar yowled, but he could hardly jerk suitably when the Chem-Baron finally took his cock and balls into his hands, appraising them. His length was left soft and hanging, though he would not have felt able to twist away even if he had been free, his efforts all in vain, merely evidence of how much strength had left his body.

“No…"

“Oh, yes. These will be useful, so useful. Once you are sent into eternal heat, driven mad by the urge to mate, you can revel in the pleasure of mating with a lioness. And won't that be everything a Vastayan could ever wish for?"

“I am not an animal!" Rengar howled, his thrashing driving the Chem-Baron to take a half-step back. “You shall not debase me when you are dead, Chem-Baron! I…"

Yet his words trailed off, eyes falling glassy, jaw slack, the device on his back kicking in as heat seeped through him, blistering through his veins, even seeming to work its way into his muscles. He still had his mind, but he could not fight or push back against the Chem-Baron, as much as he wanted to, imagining the man's head, however brutal it was, crushed between his jaws.

But he burned for something, heaving, grunting, panting, his lips pulling back from his teeth in a strange way, a way that was not a snarl. It did not make sense, no sense at all, twisting and rolling back and forth, swaying as he rotated lightly, only to the limit that the chains holding his hands above his head allowed. With his feet dangling, Rengar growled deep in the back of his throat, though the tube hadn't even closed around his cock yet, grunting, thrusting…

What was he doing? He blistered with the heat of humiliation, hardly able to breathe, need like no other coursing through him as his cock hardened, entirely against his will. It was as if he could no longer think of anything else, nothing else at all, grunting, his legs hanging, his cock throbbing. Why was it so hard? Why was he all of a sudden so needy? It was as if he had never had sex before, never experienced relief, thinking about it, how he needed to thrust into something hot and tight, something that wrapped around him like…

Oh, he didn't care, panting heavily, thrusting, rolling his hips, losing sense of himself in the moment. The dildo and the tube were still there, on either side, taunting him, and even though he knew what horrors lay within, he couldn't stop himself from craving it. He needed it, snarling, lips curling away from his teeth, yet there was no fury behind it, only wide-eyed helplessness.

As the Chem-Baron had said…all he was to them was a beast in rut. A monster, a creature to fuck, in heat constantly. That was his life there.

If that was heat… Rengar groaned. He never wanted to have to experience it ever again, no… No, never, not even the once, not as his snarls became more and more lustful, rocking, grinding, trying to jerk his arse back onto the dildo, anything to get what he needed, even though the feline did not know what the hell he needed either.

“Please!" He forced out through a gasp, head rocking back, throat strained taut. “Don't… No… Ohhh…"

Yet his will was broken, slipping away, need overcoming all else as his mind reeled in horror. He could not even hide away from the present moment, forced to experience everything exactly as it was, rolling his hips, thrusting into the tube as the dildo lunged rampantly into his arse. The aim of the thrusting machine was true, spearing deep into him, stretching him open, ecstasy coursing through with every beat of his heart.

Humiliation. Lust. How could they go together like that, hand in hand? It thrust deeply, stretching him wider and wider, though pleasure, that time, overruled the pain. There was a strain, but it was one that Rengar could not help but grind into, wanting even more, wanting the toy to be thicker as it penetrated his arse, to strain him wider than ever before. Still, he sold his soul to the devices, thrusting into the tube, aware of all the people watching him, though his thoughts…

Rengar blinked, thrusting, feeling only pleasure, the hot prickle of orgasm clawing at him already, telling him that it was time. What was he doing? Had he been resisting? His thoughts came to him as if through a thick fog, yet he didn't care, not as bits of him slipped away, fragmenting off in such a way that they would never again be found. He grunted and moaned, head hanging, thrusting on, needing no more than what he had been given, yes, though Rengar was too far gone to realise that his slipping mental state was due to the device implanted into his back. Their potions were stronger than he'd realised.

It didn't matter. Nothing mattered, hot, so hot. He yowled and thrust, pushing on, wanting to cum so badly. He swung his head back and forth, though did not understand why there were so many people there, all pressed up to the glass, watching him… Why were they watching him? He growled, showing his teeth. Didn't they see that he needed to cum? That that was the only thing left to him? He had to cum, yes, had to fill the tube, fuck… Yes… Yes, that was all that mattered, to fuck, to breed, to cum, always to cum…

He hadn't even climaxed yet and it was addictive, rendering him grunting, the Chem-Baron watching patiently, satisfied with his creation. To be reduced to a beast, as he was, only thinking of mating… Hunting surely had never been the strong point of a Vastaya, after all.

“That's right," he murmured, enraptured by the scene that he had created. “Cum… Cum. Your muscles are made for mating here, Vastayan!"

He laughed, throwing his head back, bellowing out his mirth. Yet the cat had lost the ability to think, mindless in his lust, thrusting and thrusting, the tube not even needing to massage his cock to get him to do anything. All he knew was that pressing urgency of orgasm, the need to cum overwhelming, all in a way that he could not think of anything else. There was a sick sense of humiliation there, but not in any way that he could do anything about it, more of the alchemical potion pumping into his body.

Yes… Breed… Fuck…

Yes!

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He climaxed with a roar, ejaculating, filling the tube, though he did not know how he was being broadcast to the citizens of Zaun, how everyone was laughing and mocking and jeering at him. No one cared who he was, only that another victim had been captured for their experiments, that he would provide public entertainment to the adults as he was broken down increasingly.

His cum filled the tube and yet he didn't feel as if he'd climaxed at all, thrusting on, his arse grinding back onto the dildo, mad with lust.

“Keep trying, kitty," the Chem-Baron laughed. “You'll always want this… Wanting to fuck, wanting to breed… You'll have nothing left but breeding instinct. My potions will take care of that."

He thrust and thrust, not hearing the Chem-Baron, a twist of fear and worry in the pit of his belly easily chased away. However could anything be bad when it all felt so good?

“How obedient…" The Chem-Baron commented. “But that's not enough. See, kitty, we need more of your DNA, so much more. So, keep cumming, keep thrusting. You have a show to put on, after all."

The machine pulsed, rippling around Rengar's cock as the tube contracted, letting him thrust into it even more readily, yowling, tail lashing the air, even with the broken kink in the middle. If there was pain, Rengar was by no means aware of it, thrusting, the dildo shocking his backside, sending a stream of electricity into his prostate.

He climaxed again, milked by the machine, spending his seed, though there was little telling what was happening to him as his tail waved weakly back and forth. He had to cum, yes, had to keep cumming. Cumming felt good and that was all that mattered to Rengar.

His spirit was gone, stripped by the alchemical device, potions taking over his mind, controlling even his weak, drifting thoughts. He was being rewarded, he knew that, growling as the Chem-Baron squeezed his nuts, a glint in the man's eye.

He only knew that as a good thing, yes, a very good thing. That was good, good that the Chem-Baron was pleased with him. Better cum again, yes. The dildo in his arse vibrated and he roared again as he spurted cum forth, unaware that it was mostly a weak stream by that point.

In time, his body would learn to cum more continuously, all for the pleasure of the Chem-Baron's experiments, all the plans that he had for Rengar. The feline's tail lifted, though he no longer remembered his own name, on public show, a toy there to be used and abused, climaxing, cumming…

That was all that mattered, even as the Chem-Baron slapped his arse sharply, muscle jiggling under his thick coat of fur, yowling as another climax ripped through him. Time no longer had any meaning to Rengar as he clenched on the toy in his arse, the people watching him, always watching him. Day and night, there would always be someone there, entertained by his show, though there was no longer any distress in the Vastayan.

He had to cum, had to cum, had to cum, had to cum…

Cum…

Yes, to cum.

To spend his seed.

He had to do more, had to thrust, had to grind, yowling, losing track of himself, though that was no longer of any matter to him. He had others to think of that, mindless, grinding, thrusting, heaving and panting like a beast. Maybe that had been the way that he had been meant to be all along.

That humiliation, that sick sense of being used… Oh, it had been pushed deep, the potions doing their best work on him. It would not have been as entertaining for as long, after all, if all he had done was fight it. Maybe if he'd been with his right senses and mind, he would have known why it was humiliating to be used and put on public display, but it was difficult to even consider the notion of such a thing as he thrust and thrust, experiencing untold pleasure.

There was no meaning to time, the humans watching, cheering and jeering. They only saw a beast, something rather than a “someone." And Rengar did not care. They wanted to see the show, they wanted to see what the Chem-Baron had planned for him. For the brutalised, forced down feline was not going anywhere.

Orgasm after orgasm, DNA sample after sample, his life was as it was.

And there was nothing Rengar could do about it.

*

Time passed slowly for Rengar, not really understanding what was happening to him sometimes, how time worked. His life there was in chains, always in bondage, always on show and display.

People came and people went…though there was one man, a man who worked for the Chem-Baron, who came up against him more intimately than might have been expected.

“Hehehe…" The man chuckled, wheezing lightly as if something outside, the increasingly toxic air from all their alchemy, had caught his lungs, raking through them. “Look at you… Mindless beast… Do you even know I'm here?"

All he saw was the “big cat" (more like a kitten to him, really) strung up, wriggling, thrusting, mewling softly, though the Vastayan could barely muster up a roar anymore. He could only thrust, trying to find pleasure, his body aching for an orgasm that felt fulfilling, even as he was milked and milked and milked, always to within an inch of his life. They kept him alive, of course, while he was still useful to them.

The man watched, beady eyes taking in the beast before him, not a man, not like him. The chains jangled and clanked and Rengar climaxed, finally, with a muted roar that raked through a throat harsh and sore with so many broken climaxes.

The cat was powerful, he had to admit. But he was still a beast, still lesser than the man who came by to replace his devices, to ensure that the milking tube was functioning, that everything was in the right place.

“Hey, kitty," he growled. “Aren't you a pretty thing?"

Mindless, Rengar did not even blink, panting harshly, cum flowing down the tube and filling the collection device. The Vastayan did not have any knowledge of what it was for, however.

Not until the man turned off the device implanted into his spine, allowing Rengar to regain his mind.

Blinking back to full wakefulness, Rengar heaved and gasped, every muscle in his body aching, blistering through with the kind of pain that he would not have wished on his worst enemy. Where was he? What was he doing? Oh, but the nightmare continued, his cock aching, his arse strained, body in use by a monster who didn't know how to treat others with basic civility. He wouldn't have expected any less from a human!

“Kill…" Rengar could only think of one thing, eyes wide and bulging, straining through. “I'll kill you! I'll end you! Monster… Brute! I'll…"

But his voice wavered, resistance fading. He tried, oh, how he did, but…if he could not end the man, thrashing and howling, he…

“Or kill me," Rengar rasped hoarsely. “End…this. End my…my suffering… Please…"

The man whistled contentedly, acting as if Rengar was not even there. He had done all that he needed to, the potion that had been locked into the device on his back replaced with a fresh tube. That was all that was needed, the rest harvested to make more of the alchemy.

“And there you go, cat…"

The device turned back on and, once again, Rengar's eyes fell dull and lifeless, mindless in need. The tools in his arse and surrounding his cock flexed and pulled, pushing deep, working him over, though his humping and grinding were in the pursuit of pleasure all over again.

Irrational. A beast. Useful only to those that deemed his body useful. Rengar knew none of it, the alchemy refreshed, the man smirking as he looked him over.

“Heh… Look at that body. My, men would kill for that. But you're sticking around here, aren't you, kitty? Gonna do good for us!"

He laughed, smacking Rengar's arse, but the Vastayan barely even reacted, growling, thrusting rougher and harder, trying to find that pleasure that had so eluded him.

It would never come. Not truly. He was only there to be used. And that was the eternity of his fate.

*

One year later…

He was bound in the same place for an entire year, occasionally fed through a tube, though the device on his back had been altered to provide him with sustenance too. No one wanted the Vastayan to be off display, not as he eagerly climaxed, repeatedly, contributing his DNA to the Chem-Baron. Even if Rengar didn't know what he was doing.

However, he was not healthy. His fur had lost its glossier sheen, even if it had been previously dulled by his imprisonment too. He didn't know his mind, hanging there, though his feet had been supported, over time. A more complex metal brace encircled his arms, his torso, keeping his arms above his head that day, simply as it showed off his chest, exposed him even more.

The machines whirred, grinding a little, the Vastaya hunter tipping forward, on display before the window, though they had tired of him a little with the harness-like device around him. The pose, however, showed off his arse nicely, the driving thrusts of the dildo, his legs bent a little as if he was kneeling. Of course, it was the brace and the harness that kept him in position, locked there and not even knowing how to use his limbs anymore. Even his muscles had wasted away from lack of motion, let alone the relentless toxic supply of alchemy.

The drugs worked quickly, even when they worked slowly, draining his life, bit by bit. Yet a constant, weak stream of cum still flowed from him as the Vastaya hunter groaned, Rengar weakened, broken, back in his own mind.

He wanted to pull away… Oh, but that was a weak thought, the potion supply increased further, trying to milk more cum from him, though he wanted to tell them, despite the painful pleasure, that he didn't have any more to give. His balls were shrivelled, dried-up, a lifetime of cum taken from him when he didn't know whether his body would ever recover. Not that they cared, of course, every inch of him that mattered on show, weakly jerking and thrusting, driving into the type as he was zapped, electrical pulses straining to milk more seed from him.

They thought there was still some in there, even as he groaned. He didn't want to cum, yet he did. Both notions could exist at the same time, but he roared out brokenly, more like a kitten's cry, as he spent a dry load, orgasm causing him pain, lacking in pleasure.

Torture… Why didn't they just kill him? Yet he wouldn't have had the energy even to end his own life after everything.

“Your time has come."

Rengar hung limp, weak, not knowing what else to do. The Chem-Baron was there, a familiar face, though he didn't know what was happening as the machines clanked and groaned, placing him on the ground. That was strange, very strange, but what was even stranger was the dildo withdrawing fully from his arse for the first time in over a year, the tube releasing his cock. They had both functioned as waste removal devices for him, his body aching, yawning in the absence of them.

The brace clanked and released, no more pressure around his chest, his waist, not even his hips. Bare but for his fur as the machinery and devices retracted, he moaned, his lips moving, though he didn't know how to move his arms, not even a finger. He couldn't even begin to wonder how he could get his legs under him at such a time.

What was time? What had he done? What were they going to do to him? He tried to struggle, though it was a weak, pitiful effort, the muscle wastage too great. Reflexively, he ejaculated, but the load of cum that his body produced, conditioned into ejaculation alone, was not viable, not with any seed that could have been useful to any Chem-Baron, let alone the one who had abused him for so long.

“Leave. Do as you will. I have no use for leftovers. That's enough samples from a broken beast."

Alone, grunting, Rengar's head swam, trying to get up, though he rolled his hips, thrusting, grinding, his body remembering the motions of the past twelve months even if his mind did not want to.

Was it…over?

He didn't want to believe it, not as he collapsed, losing consciousness, though his fate was already set. What did it matter if someone took his soul from him at that time? Rengar may as well have been dead already, for all that it mattered to him.

When he woke, however, he was in Ixtal, back in the jungle as if nothing had ever happened. He blinked, trying to get up, though he only managed to move one hand. He would have to take things slowly, though even the thought of that exhausted him. He'd been exhausted for an exceedingly long time. And the jungle was no longer any home to him, not in any way.

He…was not a cum beast anymore. He did not have to ejaculate, constantly, anymore. His cock still dribbled, his body so broken that he barely even knew which limbs were which, Rengar's nuts weak. Once, they had been swollen, yet they still gave the impression of something being wrong with them, bulging in the wrong way, yet smaller and shrivelled, as if something had gone wrong down there.

That must have been what happened when… He shuddered. Well, he couldn't think of that. That had been his life for too long to linger there.

He could not stay there longer.

Yet where was he to go? He could not stand, could not fight, although Rengar would have to learn to do so again, all in time. Naked, he didn't know how else to be, no notion of his pride remaining. For that matter, it was as if his pride had never existed. And that was the essence of who he had been.

No… No, he could not go back. Not to his tribe, the Kiilash tribe. His camp was most likely gone too, though there had to be somewhere, anywhere. There had to be a place left in his broken world for a soul like him.

The Vastayan hung his head.

He didn't know. He didn't know what to do without every moment of his life being dictated for him, controlled to every tiny detail. That was what his life had been, fur ragged, losing it in clumps. There was even a notch out of his ear that he did not remember losing, but supposed it must have been that time with the minotaur. That seemed like a long, long time ago…

He had to go somewhere, but he did not know where, sitting up with a great effort, leaning back against a tree, though his eyelids were already heavy with the dreariness of exhaustion. That had taken enough from him.

Broken, humiliated, pride lost, Rengar was not the hunter he had once been.

And he never would be again.