Meat Market [Subscriber Reward]
A Prime Cut of Meat is purchased.
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Meat Market
By Limewah
Subscriber Reward for Moxas (April 2024)
18+
The meat hung in place, securely swaying from the hook. Said hook was not speared through the meat’s leg - tight corded rope was knotted around it, and those same knots were daubed across the harpy eagle’s frame. His yellow-fleshed legs were cinched together by the bright red trussing. The same went for his hands, locked behind his back and pushing his chest out like a suspended shoulder. The knots ended at the eagle’s neck, tight like a choker.
Only the tiniest bit of his blond locks were poking out from a small hole at the back of the dark hood around his head. It was made of a fine, dark leather, hiding everything save for that tuft of hair, and the beak. Said beak was stuffed with a bright red gag, keeping the mouth open and wet.
His cock was drooling much the same way, wrapped tightly as it was in more of those knots. Each ball was cradled and squeezed, and the latticed lengths around his shaft kept it hard and intermittently dripping.
The meat, formerly known as Blue Harpy, had given up his resistance a long while ago. The natural pull of gravity was dizzying and soporific to begin with.
But his mind was also branded; a bright red symbol branded into his eyes, and his mind. The symbol was a circle with a broad three pronged trident poking upwards, each one slightly curved at the tip. It was, incidentally, also branded on the front of the hood, right between the eyes.
The symbol of the Meat Locker. The symbol that Locked the Meat’s minds away and ensured they remained docile, and quiet. His mind was well-cured, ensuring no contamination from his old self; that would spoil him.
The symbol on the hood glowed both inside and out, and with each pulse, he writhed just a little. The bonds creaked, with no danger of breaking - not that the desire to escape remained, now that the branding was in place. These twitches and movements were derived from pleasure, sheer, mind-numbing pleasure.
The mechanisms above roared and groaned as the conveyor belt came to life. The sudden force made the ropes swing, and the Meat turned and twisted in the rope-cage. As he was conveyed and swung, the brand flashed, reminding him who he was, and what was important.
He was Meat.
He was Prime Meat.
He was Firm and Juicy.
It was a journey the Meat had been trained to find pleasurable, too. The subtle sway of inertia, the revolving torsion as he hung from the hook… and even a little bit of the discomfort, the gravitational pull stretching his legs and his spine.
Whenever that discomfort threatened to evolve into pain, a flash from the brand turned the dull ache into a spasm of pleasure, the sort that the meat might feel just after completing a set of reps. Tiring, satisfying… tenderising.
He swung patiently, squeezing the ball gag between his beak, his tongue lathering along it.
The Meat was allowed to feel only one emotion. A desire that soon he would be purchased, and put to use at last by a high-paying customer. The only value that remained in his head was the need to be owned. It had plenty of room in a mind that once was full of personality, life, and ideals… all of them stuffed away to some moth-balled corner of his mind, well and truly hidden away.
The branding had seen to that.
The conveyance stopped, and the Meat continued to sway for a moment before a hand touched his shoulder to still him.
There was a body close to him. His programming, his urges, kicked in.
“Please purchase me,” he said, his speech muffled through his gag. “I am Prime Meat…!”
A gloved hand gripped his cock, and another sudden twinge of pleasure hit every muscle at once. He continued to repeat his pleas, his throat spasming with desperation.
The brand flashed brightly again, and the Meat understood he was to relax and hold still.
Something cold and wet slid along his shaft. Something was left behind too, a chilly series of lines and curves and circles slowly drying on the underside of his shaft.
His cock was released, and the conveyor belt moved again.
He swayed, and twisted, and his beak was spattered with droplets of precum as the ‘GRADE A+’ in ink dried across his girth.
The temperature of the air around the Meat changed slightly. The lockers were a little chilly, but this room was more warmly conditioned. The conveyance came to an abrupt stop, and the Meat pitched forward again.
“And here we are!”
The voice, gruff and deep, was tinged with a slight chuckle. The Meat heard approaching footsteps, and began to beg once again, his voice stymied by the gag. He wanted to be purchased. He was Meat. And he was very vocal about that fact. He hoped the prospective buyer could see that.
“I was about to ask how I would know it was him… but that voice confirms it.”
One of those boxed-away memories in his mind twitched. Another twinge of sharp, white-hot pleasure stilled it once again.
“Yep, no trickery here, no-siree. We at the Meat Locker pride ourselves on procuring the very finest cuts for your perusal!”
“As you can see, we’ve kept him in peak condition-maybe even a little bit better.”
“No hormones?” the voice was so familiar, where did he know it from - He Was Prime Meat.
“None whatsoever,” the gruff voice said, “We don’t contaminate our meat here!”
“Good. I’ll take it. The money has already been deposited.”
“Dang, I do love a customer who knows what he wants… anyway, we’ll send him off for wrapping and -”
“Wait. While he’s in this position, I would like to make some… alterations.”
“What ya thinking, friend?”
“Well… that thing between his legs, swaying about the place… I personally find it a bit unsightly. It needs some decorum. Luckily, I’ve come prepared…”
More twitches and twinges. The Meat continued his mantra.
“Just what is he saying, by the way?”
A hand gripped at his beak and roughly yanked the gag free from his mouth.
The Meat gasped, and full-throatedly proclaimed what it wanted.
“Please purchase me! I am Prime Meat! Please-”
The gag was replaced, and that still familiar voice laughed.
“Will I be able to teach this bird to use other verbiage?”
“Why of course, sir,” the gruff voice said. “Once the hood’s off and the branding wears away, he’ll be all yours to prepare!”
“Good, good.”
There was a wet sound, and with it a strange hum. The Meat heard something dripping.
“Ah ah ah, please try not to make a mess! That stuff might gum up the mechanisms…”
“Don’t worry.”
“Ah, Sir?” the gruff voice popped up.
“Mm?”
“It’s such a beautiful cock, though… Are you sure you want to hide it away? It feels like a waste, think about-”
“I’ll thank you for not telling me what to do with my property.”
“Very well, then Sir, as you were!”
Splat.
The Meat’s cock was suddenly encased in something wet, and slippery… it quickly pulled inwards, like a vacuum pack. It encased around his shaft- at first, it fit like a glove, but then it pushed down on the tip hard. Those sharp stabs of pleasure kept the Meat from feeling any discomfort as his cock was pushed down - first sticking between his legs, then slowly de-engorging against the pressure. That wet sensation congealed around his hips, hugging to the curvature of his ass, and pushing his cock into a tight shape.
As the new undergarments solidified, a bright padlock symbol appeared over it, gleaming and making the bulge twitch.
The Meat writhed all the while as the new programming was introduced. He was Prime Meat, but he was also… Bulgelocked…?
His dazed, well-cured mind was able to quickly combine those two clashing ideas. He was Locked Meat.
“I am Locked Meat…” he mumbled and drooled around his gag.
“Oh, how delightful,” the familiar voice chuckled. “He does have a little bit of that sharp mind after all…”
“Alrighty,” the gruff voice said with a sigh. “Now just wait out front and-”
A scaly hand gripped the Locked Meat’s bulge, and it squawked and spasmed, wriggling like a snake in the shibari trussing. The conveyor belt rattled above him, straining against the sudden increased tempo of the movements…
“Hey hey HEY! You can’t just-”
“Check your balance. Note the extra gratuity I included.”
“Oh… Oh. Well, erm, just be careful, a’ight? We’ve got more clients to see and we don’t want this thing breaking down.”
“Gladly. I want to savour him like this for a moment longer. When will I have another opportunity to have him so delightfully prepared?”
The familiar voice laughed - a low chuckle at first, that built into something that was downright megalomaniacal.
The Locked Meat went blank and soft once more, another pulse of the hood-brand reminding him of his place, and divesting him of that intense need from before.
After all… he’d just been sold. He was fulfilled.
Even more so, now that he was Locked.
He would be a prime cut of meat for his new Owner, a long-lasting one at that.