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Kilowog grunted, feeling the shortness of his breath with each inspiration he had to take. With a deep breath, he passed his hand over his shoulder, feeling where maws and blades had bitten through his protection, suit, and skin. He was bleeding. Not bleeding out, but enough for him to feel the liquid dripping against his pink-colored skin or his Green-Lantern suit, and know it would crystallize as soon as his ring spat its last moment of power.

Flying through space as fast as he could, Kilowog knew he only managed to delay the inevitable as he growled, passing by worlds and stars in the blink of an eye. He needed to reach another Lantern, to recharge his ring, to get patched up.

Despite the endurance the Bolovaxians naturally displayed, he was… In need of help. His oversized jaw was slightly askew, showing off his flat-teeth humans had compared to the liking of “Hippopotamus" back on earth. One of his little ears atop his head was almost ripped off. And wherever someone glanced at the hulking pink giant, it was to see the scars across his chest, the scratching, the biting wounds… And yes, the Green-Lantern suit showed signs of wear and tear.

All thanks to an enemy who had surprised Kilowog at the wrong moment during a rescue mission and forced him to protect civilians while opposing that bastard.

“Bastard. You won't get me. I am sure," growled Kilowog, flying despite the numbness until he… Sensed a signal. Something familiar. Something close to a Green Lantern. Was someone else stuck in that hellhole of a sector?

Still, it was good for him as he instantly swerved left and flew towards one world. A deep blue planet, with hints of purple in the form of jungles and clouds floating atop. He flew towards it, pierced a cloud and nearly crash-landed into a clearing as he did not adjust his speed enough. He felt his bones strain under the effort as his body smashed against a rock, but he did not go further, no deeper. He bounced, rolled, then landed on his back as he watched from afar a flickering yellow light. He watched it come closer.

But as he looked around, Kilowog lifted his body. He was… Alone. Of the Green Lantern signal, there were no traces. He glanced, looked around the wooden clearing of plants twisting and moving. Their purple leaves formed a perfect cover as Kilowog grunted and went on his feet. Despite the pain and soreness, he managed to stand up and walk. Onward, forward. Towards the trees, as he reached for his ring and removed it.

It was better not to use it.

And in that instant, the Green Lantern felt cold air rush to his body. To his wounded pectorals, to his bruised but chiseled abdominal waist, to his powerful arms and legs bleeding. To his feet stomping on the ground, the toes playing with the soft soil. To his genitals… To his dangling testicles, heavy in a dark-purple scrotum, and his uncut cock at rest. Naked. He was fully naked and exposed as he entered the wooden cover… And felt something sting his neck.

---

“Find him. Or we will rip the ring out of you and crush your bones one by one."

The order had been clear, final. Something that made his blood boil and his frustration soar. Atop of failing to kill an easy target at the peak of his fear and anger, he had been admonished by his superior. And that… that made Arkillo's blood boil. And his heart throb.

“Where are you?" asked the Reptilian-looking alien, a Vornian whose appearance could be described as a tailless dinosaur with protruding jaws capable of crushing anything with it. A jaw he had used to wound and break many Green Lanterns before. Yet, this time, one of them eluded him.

Had been eluding him for the last few weeks.

For the last few weeks, forced to hunt alone, Arkillo combed the entire sector with an inquisitive eye. He watched every world cowering in fear by his presence, watched from afar the sputtering stars about to break. And then… As his hunt was coming close to an end, there was… This world.

Deep blue with a purple hint in its atmosphere.

It was an abnormality as it did not orbit around stars yet brimmed with life and light once you got through the atmosphere. Arkillo still continued, passing a hand over his torso where he had received a cannonball-sized fist there. The bones had mainly recovered but the pain remained as a reminder. Maybe a fear that taught him not to underestimate that Green Lantern anymore.

His black eyes focused from one spot to another. He clenched his fist harder, pressing more and more on the yellow ring as it powered him, and… There was a signal.

A Green Lantern signal.

Amidst the trees, the caves, the rivers, beyond a sea.

In a flash, Arkillo focused on the signal to follow it, his tightly clenched fist onward as he inhaled. There would be fear, there would be pain… And once his hunt done, he would get back to find another target.

But as he approached, the signal grew erratic, weaker. Was the Bolovaxian sending a last call for help? It would be so adequate, but it meant the Green Lantern was afraid. It would be his end, and the end of his species. It had been good to crush his world and the population living there, it would be better to end it but slowly. Carefully until that one begged to be killed quickly. Which would not be done.

The mere thought sent a shiver and a rush of adrenaline through Arkillo as he approached what looked to be a field of stone outcroppings. A nice hiding spot as it was easy to hide in one of the numerous caves or between the chaos of rocks to stay out of sight.

Arkillo chuckled as he descended, landed on the stone. With the ring on his finger, he rolled his shoulders and looked around. Here, the stone was light gray, almost brown. Dust was flung from it, but as Arkillo tried to inhale… There was a scent, a faint smell that belonged to the Green Lantern, amidst something more vile and bestial. A fragrance Kilowog took in by grimacing.

“Show yourself, Green Lantern. This is your last stance. You will die, and I will return to the Corps with your head."

“Is that true?"

Instantly, Arkillo turned his body. His fist clenched and raised; a pure-yellow light emanated from the ring at his finger to take the form of a canon. Something he wanted to return to Kilowog as he shot towards where he had heard the voice.

Dust flew, forming a cloud obscuring his sight. But Arkillo was certain to have hit his target, he had seen the pink skin the moment he sent the mental order. But as the cloud dropped, he heard… A cough.

He shot again. And again. Each time, pebbles flew, and more dust lifted in the air, obscuring more, but no… There was that pink hue beyond the dust.

“What… Fight me, Green Lantern! I saw your emergency signal. You cannot hide."

“I don't hide. And I won't fight," groaned back Kilowog, still visible.

“But I will, and your dirty tricks won't… won't. Hah!"

As the dust dropped, Arkillo keen sight saw Kilowog and saw him… Naked. He had no power; he had no suit. He was powerless.

However, it was not that which made Arkillo laugh. He had fought the Green Lantern on many occasions, pushing against the bulky and hulking Bolovaxian. He was a tough nut to crack, fit, and in fighting shape, contrary to more Green Lanterns.

But here?

He looked like a pregnant female.

His whole muscular, top-heavy, body was more pear-shaped than anything except for those swollen fat tits dangling from his chest and pressing against his round belly. His arms were weak, his legs thin except for those oversized thighs that surely gave him a massive ass. So much for a drill sergeant and a fighter.

But the humiliating detail was… Well, the Green Lantern ring. Some species had to attach their rings to other appendages if they did not have “hands". But it was taking the cake when Kilowog's ring was attached… To his cock. Something that shone when looking between those meaty thighs. His cock… Pierced through his cock. Like a prince Albert.

“Haha! Has the Green Lantern been so low?!" shouted Arkillo with a mix of frustration, anger, joy, and amusement.

His counterpart didn't seem as mirthful. Kilowog crossed his arms over his chest, lifting up the two breasts and underlining their rotund shapes when not pressed against his belly. And he scoffed.

“You won't fare better, Arkillo. You can give up gently… Or be taken down by force," answered Kilowog with a cocky grin.

“Me? By you? No," laughed Arkillo as he clenched his fist and summoned a blade. A large sword which swung towards Kilowog and struck… Only to dissipate in his contact. Yet, it was not like the whole construction had disappeared. No, as soon as the blade flung past Kilowog, it reformed and left a large gash across the land.

“What trick is-"

“Hard way."

Arkillo cocked an eyebrow. But then, a dart hit his neck. One he grabbed, pulled away. He looked at the primitive weapon, at the obsidian-like metal. And… Felt weak.

He dropped, his eyes closing as he watched Kilowog approach, squatting and nearly rubbing his testicles, swarming with life, against Arkillo's face.

“It kills me. But you will be a great addition, Arkillo."

“Don't… Mess with me," managed to articulate the Vornian, scoffing… But feeling his body grow cold as he was falling asleep.

---

The first thing Arkillo heard as he slowly roused from his slumber, it was the fire. Distant, afar, but audible for his ears as his eyelids were still too heavy to open. His nostrils, then, caught a whiff of the air around. Kilowog was still there, but the strong bestial perfume was still around. Whatever had managed to take him down, they would regret. And so, Arkillo groaned, his tongue flicking the air and his jaw…. His gums. And his missing teeth?

He touched them, his tongue passing past them before his eyes darted open in fury… And fear. Vornians' teeth were important. It showed others their roles, the danger, and well, allowed them to feed. He passed a finger, then as the drug wore out, a finger… A naked finger against his gums.

“What the?" he articulated, finding he had no trouble speaking even without.

“Wake up, sleepyhead," said a voice.

Arkillo's eyes looked up. He was in a tent, made of leather or something primitive. He had been sleeping on a rug made with purple fur. Around, there were trinkets, pots, and more fur… Only then, did he turn… Watching Kilowog in the open, holding a waterskin in hand.

The Bolovaxian seemed bigger now as he pushed the flaps, letting some light enter before he slipped inside, offering the waterskin forward.

“You. My teeth! You will pay for this!" grunted Arkillo as he twisted, turned, faced Kilowog entirely and jumped… Only to find his hands bound by leather straps as he tried to reach for Kilowog's limbs. Even his legs had been attached, turning his bounce into a thrashing as he tried to undo the attaches before the Green Lantern.

“You won't remove the binds, not alone," said Kilowog, smugly.

“I will not hear a Green Lantern's orders!" spat back Arkillo, bending to reach for the bindings joining his knees and ankles. He pressed his claws against the leather, hoping for it to snap. But not only did it resist, his claws left no mark on the material.

“It's no use, Arkillo. Get your meal before the ceremony."

“My meal, this? It is poisoned, so you can kill me like the coward you are," snarled Arkillo, returning to Kilowog, who watched him.

Kilowog, who, without breaking contact, uncorked the waterskin by removing the wooden plug and took a chug of the liquid before Arkillo, then plugged it.

“It is a waste to have you drink it and not me," he said, tossing the waterskin at Arkillo's side before he turned away. Kilowog growled, pushed against the flap.

“Wait!" shouted Arkillo, stopping the Green Lantern on his track.

“Yes?"

“… What… Who are your allies? How are you immune to my weapons?"

“You will see. Eat, daft."

With the sight of Kilowog's plump posterior obstructing everything else before it disappeared behind the flap, Arkillo was left in the dark again. He was feeling hungry, and outside, he heard voices and clicking tongues… Words from Kilowog as he exchanged with someone else, but he could not make out the clicking and grunting.

Without his rings, he did not have the power to translate what was said. Probably, Kilowog used his constantly.

“Green Lantern, I'll get you," swore Arkillo as he turned to the waterskin he had received. Carefully, with his bindings, he turned and sat on his posterior while watching himself. He had no ring, his suit had been stripped. However, he bore no marks of wounds or torture. He remained as fit as before… And well endowed for a male Vornian. Even if he had to get those teeth regrowth or replaced by artificial ones, women would still be interested in his robust build, his vigorous arms, his well-defined jaws... Oh and yes, his genitals that had always been too tightly snug inside the suit. He watched them, wondering how someone could be stupid enough to strap a weapon to their dick like Kilowog. And then, he grabbed the gourd to uncork it.

The smell of it revealed there was no poison; Kilowog had drunk it, too, so he wasn't afraid of it. But the pungent scent, spicy and earthy, was quite strong on his nose. It reminded Arkillo of his rutting years before he shook his head and took a swig. And another… And another.

The liquid was evidently salty, heavy, it was chunky enough he had to make efforts to gulp it down. But as it passed, it left a warming sensation that intensified with each swig. The taste was spicy like the smell, luscious; it had a creamy aspect. He kept chugging until he was crushing the waterskin to get the liquid out of it, the last drop. And… He sighed.

His stomach rumbled in satisfaction, though his tongue kept flicking from one gum to another, even his lips.

Had his captors, had Kilowog planned this? He doubted it had been the Green Lantern's plan. They were too keen on bringing “justice", and an ambush was not their style. Plus, the immunity.

His tongue flicked again, sampling the few drops that had managed to stick under his tongue and merging with his saliva. That liquid was good, excellent. It tasted sweeter than Arkillo's first hunt.

Its flavor, its luscious tastes, its egregious origin from Kilowog were almost an insult as the Yellow Lantern grunted and found himself wanting for more but his stomach satisfied. His hunger gone, he was ready to study his situation.

Naked, disarmed of his ring, and of teeth, he had to be careful of Kilowog's new friends. Turning away, slipping towards the tent's end, Arkillo tried to use his claws against the leather. Yet, like his bindings, the leather was… Resistant. A preposterous situation as he had hunted creatures thrice or more his size with his claws cutting through them like paper.

He growled, scratching, feeling the shame of being like a juvenile learning the basics of employing his claws at the proper angle. He growled, grunted, but still. The leather did not give in.

He continued, focusing on the slightest hint of discoloration, indicating he could still scrape it, but it would take… Days?

The tent flap moved.

Arkillo's eyes turned as fast as possible. His eyes focused on the form within the tent, his eyes adjusting to the creature slipping inside, half-kneeling, half-walking. It was a powerful fighter from his build and his bestial scent. There was no blade, no spear around. If that one had weapons, he was hiding them away from Arkillo's eyes.

But how could that creature do that when it was naked?

It was a brutal alien, a beast with a long and equine-like face, the skin covered with black and white fur. His mane was braided long enough to drop behind. It had the posturing of… Well, a soldier.

His muscles were sinewy, running beneath the fur and tensing while those fingers extended towards Arkillo, who snapped back, tried to bite them… Only to scowl as his lack of teeth was reminded. He grunted, frowned, and then backed with his joined hands first.

He presented his claws to the brute, ready to jump on him. Yet, it was with a surprising and surreal speed the Warrior caught Arkillo's wrists and lifted them, depriving him of this weapon.

“Release me, beast. Or I'll eat you," hissed the Voranian, his tongue flicking.

In answer, there was only a tongue clicking followed by a neighing laugh. The Alien was mocking him… Him, a Yellow Lantern, who could crush that miserable planet once he had his ring. He was not a petty subject of mockery for a primitive beast that did not know what could happen.

“Laugh all you want, I'll kill you one day!" spat Arkillo, watching with a gleam of satisfaction the Creature's expression shift and for those eyes to frown.

“You understand me? Good. I will kill y-Hrmphh"

Before he could say something more, there was a pounce. A predator all his life, Arkillo was suddenly forced by a Creature that should be, by all accounts, a prey. Soft teeth, large tongue, eyes on the sides. Those three details he watched and felt them all the same as the Prey jumped on him and kissed him.

From the surprise and the lack of teeth, Arkillo had no defense against this assault. His mouth was primed, invaded, conquered by that wide tongue carrying along traces of a milky sweet liquid in its saliva. A remnant of a last meal?

Yet, being assaulted by a milk-drinking Prey was insulting for Arkillo…

Still, he did not push with his hands or tried to kick the Creature out. Somehow, feeling such a warm and strong body, experiencing that tongue pressing and teasing his mouth's roof, tongue, even uvula; It was appeasing the Yellow Lantern's mind. He savored the way those lips pressed together, separating but for a second of respite before the assault continued. The wide tongue was pressing but not invading, it did not crush Arkillo's or attempt to force its way down. It gently prodded and played with Arkillo, picking him up and leaving him with no choice but to participate. And then appreciate as he was… amused. Yes, it was amusing and endearing even.

The Voranian's traits melted, his scowl disappeared, and as the kiss was finally over, the saliva traced the line between them. He could not… Oppose the Alien. That one grabbed Arkillo's ankles and legs binding before he ripped them with his bare hands. How?

The leather had resisted his claws and strength, but not of that Alien who tossed the bindings aside like it was nothing before grabbing Arkillo's hands, but not to free them.

“How?" he asked, bewildered. He had seen his fair share of surprises for the day, and it seemed it would continue. But he had no energy left in him to oppose the Alien, who pulled on the bindings, clicking his tone at a quick pace, and dragged the Yellow Lantern outside the tent.

Outside… Or rather inside a cavern. It seemed those creatures had set up a camp in a cavern with glowing plants hanging from the ceilings, yet they used a campfire to illuminate the few tents around, at least a dozen, if not more. Everything here was… Primitive. The fire, the way the creatures walked around naked, the tents made of leather, even the bones trinket attached to a few poles placed here and there in an arrangement that made no sense.

Arkillo took in the smell, finally finding and confirming those creatures, bestial and musky, were what he had smelled in his confrontation with Kilowog. However, he still expected a Guardian or another entity to pop out of nowhere to explain those Aliens were his servants.

But no… And no traces of Kilowog despite his scent, which made Arkillo snap back. He… Growled, pulled on his bindings as the Alien kept dragging him.

“Release me, filth," ordered the Yellow Lantern, only receiving a surprised side-glance from the Warrior, a clicking noise from his tongue, and then Arkillo was pulled again despite digging his heels into the ground. Even then, the Alien overpowered him; even the three times Arkillo followed him and tried to pull in the other direction suddenly.

“I will… not… Forget this!" groaned Arkillo at his third time, upon which his minder seemed frustrated and bothered, yet kept pulling the reluctant Predator away from the camp and deeper into a tunnel inside the cavern.

There, the bioluminescence was strong enough to see as if the cave was in broad daylight, with a slight blue hue. One that expanded onward as the tunnel opened on… A lake. A wide and massive subterranean lake that glimmered from the reflections and was wide enough it was impossible to see the other side across.

At its bank were a few more of those fighters, most sharing the same build as Arkillo's minder, and one larger Prey. That one was evidently a priest or something with the stone trinket braided with the black mane he kept wrapped around his neck. There were even gems, roughly cared for, attached to the mane, but it was not enough to say that one was civilized or smart.

Plus, he did not wear anything either, his potbelly visible as well as his genitals. Something Arkillo narrowly avoided to focus on, looking aside towards the tent near the bank. Maybe that one used to live there? However, the clicking noises from the three were rapid, and the neighing laughs were shared. Then, interrupted as Arkillo and his minder approached.

Followed, then, a sort of discussion in which the Predator had no interest in following and no ability to. His minder pointed at Arkillo, clicking rapidly while the “Shaman" raised his two hands as if to make peace. Then, the discussion became confused as they pointed to the lake, then the caverns.

Their clicking and mimicking were getting on Arkillo's nerves. Still, he took the opportunity to observe the place he was stuck in. The place was naturally formed, plants blossomed along the bank like a fungi jungle. The air was breathable by his standards. Furthermore, he could understand if primitives were interested in such places. Light and water, it easily captivated them.

His eyes continued to wander until he sensed a hand going over his pectorals.

His reflexes kicked in, and Arkillo jumped back, hitting the Shaman's hand with his claws out. But much like the leather before, his claws could not even scratch his skin, though the Prey massaged the back of that grubby hand with a frustrated clicking noise.

One continued by the minder who taped on the ground with his hooves to signify his agreement.

Then, the “Shaman" nodded and pointed to the lake, which prompted the minder to grab Arkillo and pull him towards the lake.

“Hey!" the Yellow Lantern shouted, in vain.

In vain as, through a display of strength, Arkillo was tossed like a rag in the water. He flew, dropped, splashed until he recovered his composure as he found the water was at waist-level but not more.

More than that, as he spat the water in his mouth and shook his head, he saw the clear water change. From a glimmering blue from the light above, the water around him was getting a yellow tint, like a drop of paint in water.

He watched it in surprise, tried to hit the water to see if there was something at play. But no, whenever the water was close to him, it turned bright yellow and almost glimmering.

This place… It had a link to the Yellow Lantern. Arkillo was certain of it.

But as he looked up at the Creatures, he saw them clicking their tongues from the banks, mimicking someone washing themselves by gathering water.

Whatever they said… Though, it seemed none were eager to join him in the water, which was… Good.

Arkillo smiled despite his missing teeth as he merely turned away from the Aliens and advanced deeper into the lake. Behind him, the clickings were getting louder then stopped. But no splashing.

Those primitive creatures were too afraid of the water to do anything to Arkillo as he trod through the yellow water, his powerful legs pushing against the liquid, which remained at waist level but no further. Then, as that progression was becoming tedious, he swam. His powerful legs hit the water; his hands outstretched as if to claw the surface. His body was strong, enduring. He could swim such distance easily, and he did. He did so while keeping an eye close to the walls. Here and there, stone pillars pierced the water surface, but nothing that looked like an opening. In fact, besides the banks from where he came, Arkillo found no other. The walls were too high, inaccessible to the point only the moss clung to them. And there were no other entrances. As he swam around, Arkillo watched how there was nothing else but water. Even if he glimpsed and tried, the water remained entirely at waist level and not deeper. And there was no source, which was… Disproving his idea this was a natural formation.

Still, he continued to swim around, checking for any holes in the walls until he was getting back to the bank from where he came from. Even then, there was no hidden entrance on those shores, and the few minutes he spent on them, walking, he always found himself surrounded by fungal growth that resisted his claws and nothing more. A dead end.

Frustration took the Vornian as he had no solution but to swim back to where he came from, taking his slow time before he went back, his arms raised as if to signify he was giving up. It was better to play coy as he watched the Shaman and his Minder were still around. The other two were gone, and as for the Shaman, he was tending to a fire on his own with wood he seemed to have gotten from somewhere. There was an access to the surface, thought Arkillo as he approached the shore near his Minder.

The Prey seemed to click his tongue in disapproval, but as Arkillo approached, he was ganged by the two brutes.

“Do what you want. I cannot escape. You saw that," grunted the Yellow Lantern.

And he grunted some more when the Shaman's hands were back on him. The pectorals were the first, and Arkillo nearly raised his clenched fists, but stopped, still bound as he was. He knew how to stalk and even if he was furious, angry, hissing through his teeth, he was… … He had Kilowog to kill first and his ring to get.

A focus he had in mind even as those hands went over his torso, over his abdominal muscles, his lower belly, his thighs… And as soon as one of those Preys' hands approached his genitals, it was enough.

He hissed, and despite having his fists bound, he outstretched them to punch the Shaman and his grubby hands. He roared, he opened his mouth with a slew of saliva as his tongue darted outward. Only then for his fists to be stopped, by the Minder's grip.

They did not hit back, not at all. But kept in such a position, Arkillo glanced at the two as they exchanged and huffed, visibly tired of him. Which was reciprocal as he was tired of them. Getting on their nerves would make it easier. And though he was not satisfied, he took his return to the camp with a smug, toothless grin.

“What will you do? Attach me again? See, I took your bath. You can leave me, and I will take the Green Lantern with me."

More clickings and a side-glance later, Arkillo was ushered back to the same tent. He was even pushed by the Prey, who no longer had any qualms in abusing the Predator, stumbling and rolling onward, solely to have something thrown at his back. A waterskin.

Then, the Creature seemed to step away, leaving Arkillo alone.

The Yellow Lantern's first reaction was to crawl and reach for the opening, pushing on the flap instant to be welcomed by a pair of legs covered in black and white stripes. Another guard was at the ready. Giving Arkillo no options but to back down and open the waterskin, taking another swig of that sweet liquid while in that tent. That place now looked closer to a cell. After such a long swim, he was feeling hungry and whatever they fed him; it appeased his hunger while giving him a sense of clarity. He returned to the tent's walls to scratch it, attempting to create an opening through it.

It was how a routine started with Arkillo as he would spend what he assumed to be days scratching the tent to get out. He was allowed to leave the tent for his needs but even then, it was while watched by those Preys before he got led to his tent.

Twice per day, they would give him one of those waterskins and retrieve the former one, and once per day he was led to the Shaman who inspected him before he was to take a “bath".

Whatever the water had in reaction, it had also started to stop, and the water no longer shone like a yellow sun in Arkillo's contact. Whatever it was, whatever they planned, the Vornian no longer bothered to care.

But what bothered him was… Kilowog and his captors.

The latter? They were around and powerful, more than most Aliens and other strange Creatures Arkillo fought. But Kilowog? He smelled him but rarely saw him. When he did, it was to have him throw a waterskin his way and disappear with that same gruff attitude. But each time… he looked rounder.

“Who are your friends?" finally asked Arkillo as the Green Lantern was again about to leave. That day, he got a sort of tattoo on his belly. With dark ink, the primitives drew a sort of womb, or a representation of it with an arrow or the tip of one inside the womb. Lines and swirling joined the fattened sides that had gotten a few stretch marks.

“Does it matter?" answered the gruff purple-skinned Alien as he returned. And through glimpsing, it was clear Kilowog had some hickeys around his neck and… Nipples. He was letting the primitive fuck him.

“So I know who I kill before I do the same to you, beast-fucker," answered Arkillo with a grin.

For a moment, Kilowog froze. His reaction was enough to tell he was angry… His fists clenched, his head lowered, his shoulders dropped.

“Do it, Green Lantern. You want it," added Arkillo, his tongue flailing the air to taste the flavor. Beyond the beastly musk clinging to Kilowog, there was that hint of fury.

But as the Green Lantern raised his fist… He stopped. The hands released, the shoulder rolled, and a smile appeared on that brutish face.

“No. I won't give you the satisfaction. You'll see what will happen," said Kilowog with a smug smile before he stepped away, leaving Arkillo suddenly stomping on his feet, his hands still attached, as he pushed against the tent flap.

“Go on! Face me! You want it! Try to give me a punch! I will kill you and every Green Lantern!" said Arkillo, shouting, screaming… And facing another of those stripped beasts who looked at him, clicked his tongue, and pointed the tent.

Kilowog? There were no traces except the scent that Arkillo would have to track.

But he returned to the Beast, glaring at it… Then returned to his tent, to the routine, to the habits. Kilowog no longer came after that. The waterskins followed, and the routine stretched though Arkillo's body started to ache. After the baths and whenever he was hungry. He saw puncture marks through his scales around his thighs, even near his genitals. Worse, he felt weaker.

Weaker that even the idea of scratching the tent seemed stupid, especially as he had not managed to do more than a little nick on the leather.

His captivity became ridden with sleep and eating before one day, one of those aliens entered. It was too early for the bath, but that one came and reached for Arkillo's binds.

As a reflex, the Vornian hissed and kept the arms close to his chest to avoid being pulled. But with his weakness, the difference in strength, the primitive easily caught Arkillo's arms and snapped the leather free. Arkillo blinked in surprise, but the sole thing the Alien said was a clicking noise, which meant nothing to him before the Beast left.

It only took a minute for the Yellow Lantern to notice something as he was in the tent; no one was watching the entrance anymore. He opened the flap to see the typical guard gone. In all those days spent in the dark, there was always an Alien at the post. But as Arkillo stepped outside, there was no guard. Worse, as one of those stripped creatures looked at him, it didn't force him to go inside, but merely went on with his duties.

For a moment, Arkillo knew he was free, and slowly, he trudged around the encampment. He recognized the tunnel leading to the lake, but the others? He explored them, expecting the primitives to have more tents, perhaps a pile of treasure, or even his rings. He expected weapons; he expected everything… But not his enemy.

Not his enemy being in such a slutty display as he explored one tunnel opening to what seemed to be a ceremonial chamber. Yet, at the center of it and before an altar of pure gold, there was Kilowog. The Bovoraxian was loud and grunting, his powerful muscles clapping and hefting his body through many breaths. All so he could… Please those primitives' cocks.

In the middle of what was a gangbang with three Aliens around, Kilowog was eagerly riding the one below him. From where Arkillo was, hidden in a corner, the Yellow Lantern saw that fat black rod plunge deep within Kilowog's ass. He saw, by glancing hard, that rim opening and closing on that shaft as it left that hole only to delve deeper, tugging on that fat, stretched rim. Every time, precum and cum seemed to fly from Kilowog's ruined asshole as he bounced. And so bounced his pathetic pierced cock, his Green Lantern ring looking dull and turned off. Worse were the breasts on that swollen belly. They bounced on that stretched skin, on that belly, only to be picked by the Primitive's mouth to be sucked. The same who was inside Kilowog's ass.

With his tongue and lips, the Alien nibbled at the nipples and sucked them. No. He licked them, too, collecting the sweet and disgusting milk pouring from those wide teats. His eyes were all over those tits, whereas Kilowog's were… On those cock.

Equine-looking, black like coal, possessing a median ring, the Green Lantern opened his wide maw to allow both shafts to plunge inside his mouth like the pervert he was. Without even stopping, the primitives went inside in tandem, one leaving and another pushing inside that mouth without leaving the Green Lantern a moment to catch his breath.

It was as much lovemaking as abuse, with Kilowog's head being held tightly by the primitives. They pumped inside, snapping his head toward one direction to throat-swab him. Then, there was another move, and that mouth pointed towards a different position. It went on and on while that frothing mouth was stuffed with cum. Semen… Something Kilogow eagerly took down with an expression of complete stupidity. Those tiny eyes were rolling, those nostrils clogged with cum, and yet breathing it in like he snorted those cocks. And all with the Primitives clicking their tongues all around as if laughing.

It soured Arkillo's hunt as he watched how impotent and pathetic had become his target. However, there was that perverse joy as he smiled and watched the Green Lantern's demise. He had become nothing more than a fuckhole for those primitives, lowering himself until he had wasted his potential as a fighter. In that state, Arkillo could take him down. But it was better to watch him continue that life of perversion and depreciation. It was better and… More exciting.

That thought pierced through Arkillo's ruminations as he squatted and lowered his hand between his legs. There, his low-hanging testicles were almost touching the lukewarm ground while his cock was resting on them. With a quick glance back, then to the gangbang, Arkillo gripped his shaft.

Long and uncut, he had not honored the females of his species with it, though he had done so with other aliens. He was not above the pleasure of flesh, and blood rushed to his shaft as he gripped it. In his palm, the cock pulsed with life and energy… It throbbed as he started to peel the foreskin off the head, feeling the pull on the frenum until he was at the end, pulling his foreskin down… Then, up. He dragged the flesh up, tensed it below the line he held. His cocktip disappeared under the fold, the skin wrinkled, and… From where would be the opening, a glob of precum dripped. One single drop he milked out before he returned down.

As he pulled down, his precum smeared on the dark-purple head that glistened by the bioluminescence, the flesh gleaming before he covered it again, smearing more precum onto it as he continued. Slowly, ever so slowly, the round cocktip was left a pristine and yet smudged tip. One Arkillo kept massaging and squeezing, using his entire hand as he pumped up and down…

All the while, his eyes were solely on Kilowog.

He watched that soft pink skin being covered with fluids, the nipples getting red and erect from the brutal sucking. His cock bounced up and down, oozing a watery fluid that formed a puddle as his body moved with a strange and dedicated zeal.

He was no warrior; Kilowog was no warrior. He was a bitch, a female getting bred by those Primitives who laughed and mocked Kilowog. Yet, the Green Lantern was only smiling stupidly while his asshole tightly clenched around the dick inside. It sputtered noises whenever the pressure was released.

Slowly, those pitiful moans and grunts were getting higher and weaker while Kilowog's expression crumbled, those eyelids closed.

Arkillo… Envied this. He should have been the one inflicting this on Kilowog. Well, maybe not to give him such a pleased expression. But he should have been the one breaking him through fear. He should have pushed that Alien deeper into despair and horror; he should have been the one breaking that proud bastard.

And yet, there was another hint of envy.

As another rush of perverted thoughts came over him, Arkillo reached for his mouth to bite it off. It was the way he had kept control of his breeding instincts before. That was how he controlled those needs when he had a mission.

Yet, as one hand was still on his cock pumping, the other was in his mouth… But unbitten.

No teeth.

He was starting to forget that detail, but the remembrance made him grunt. Loud enough for him to stop a moment, watching if the four lovers had noticed him. But no, too focused on what they were doing, they gave him no heed.

Not even when the one below growled, released one teat, and… Audibly came.

Arkillo saw that stripped stud's balls suddenly clench and rise. He saw the lust inside Kilowog's eyes, the tension on his legs; he even saw the cum dripping from the hole from the inner pressure before a sudden lift released that hole and the cum inside.

So much cum had been pumped in a second, and more came from that flared black cock as it stood erect. Its flared head was pointed slightly down, spraying right in front of the Primitive and potentially Arkillo's direction. The scent was strong, extremely so. Creamy, musky. Enough to make Arkillo gargle as he swallowed his saliva. His stomach gurgled with hunger.

Yet, he kept pumping and pushing even as the three Primitives changed position and had Kilowog in the middle, lifted while two of the males were going for his asshole. Gaping and cum-dripping, the orifice was so open Arkillo could fit his fist inside. Yet, those flared tips were stretching it so wide the Green Lantern cried and moaned, only to have his mouth silenced.

All the while, Arkillo kept masturbating. His hands danced along his erect cock, pulling on the veiny length as he felt the pressure in his prostate and body rising. He licked the air, tasting the excitation and desire hanging there while he pumped. Faster, harder, without a stop.

His precum started to foam a little. His hand moved at an egregious pace as he approached his orgasm. He felt the pang of pleasure just above his ass, sensed the slight shock as it ascended his spine. He felt it nudge his brain. He felt the order, the delight, the pleasure.

The pressure inside his groin as his testicles were tightly held by his scrotum rising. He “bit" his finger, pressing against it with his gums as he felt his cocktip burn and then… There was his ejaculation.

He closed his mouth on his finger, silencing his moans that way while he kept pumping. He ejaculated but continued to pump as his shaft was still stiff and sensitive, needy as he emptied his nuts on the ground.

His semen, thick, dropped from his cocktip, pressed outward by his fingers as they squeezed the flesh, emptied his urethra. Again… And again. Yet, his orgasm was… Intense. So intense he could not stop it after a few strokes. No. He had to continue and push for another rush.

For another ejaculation that came only two minutes after, and then again after four.

All that time, the Primitives were still at it inside Kilowog's ruined and dripping hole. They had not reached their climax, but they were close. Tense and eager were their clicking noises. As for Kilowog, he seemed not to care anymore. His cock kept spraying on his ring and the ground, while his mouth was savagely assaulted by the Primitives who had been taking his hole. With a kiss, the Green Lantern seemed subdued, kept enthralled.

Arkillo watched it, pumping. But slower. His cock was starting to burn, and he could not keep pumping. Even his groin started to ache as he slowed the movement and finally, released his soft cock as it dropped on his testicles. He felt lighter than before, even his mind, as he watched the scene unfold. Then, as discreetly, he left the tunnel with only a tiny puddle as an indication of his presence. And a mark on the walls, where he wiped his palm.

His needs satisfied and his mind somehow clearer, Arkillo returned to the tent. He went there, only to find another waterskin. His hungry stomach was screaming at the sight, and he grabbed his meal, uncorked it, and emptied all that good liquid down his throat.

Somehow, the creamy and salty liquid felt even better now than the first time he tasted it. And he happily chugged it down, shaking the waterskin as he tried to get the last drop once more. He shook it, sitting on the floor like an addict…

A clicking noise.

It was then, as he released the waterskin and retracted his tongue from it, that he turned to see a Primitive. No, his Minder. The one who usually took him to the lake with the Shaman. This time, the stripped Primitive had a funny expression, his clicking continuing.

“I don't understand what you say," growled Arkillo with a hint of frustration as he threw the waterskin aside and licked his lips. “You have a problem?"

To answer plainly, the Primitive shook his head and offered his hand, palm up.

“You want to drag me to that lake, again."

There was a nod, a confirmation. And Arkillo sighed. He knew better than to fight that Alien who was stronger than him, especially in his weakened state.

He did not take the hand but stood up, approached the Alien, and snarled at him.

“My terms," he said with a defiant look, which his Minder did not seem to care for. Instead, the Primitive backed off and guided Arkillo to the lake without having to drag him off for once. A novelty for that primitive, for Arkillo, and for the camp, though most did not care.

As they arrived by the lake, the “Shaman" was again there and waiting. His hands were ready, and as soon as Arkillo was there, they went over his body. Again, there was the Primitive's warm breath on his face as those grubby and calloused hands went over his scales. They went over his arms, weaker, to his torso that was more plump, to his belly that had started to fill in and sag. To his wide thighs and sizeable ass… Then, to his genitals.

Arkillo grunted as he felt those hands going inside his thighs. Then, over his testicles. They explored his scrotum and dug into it as he kept his arms wrangling behind him. He felt his nuts lifted, rolled, teased longer than before. And then, there was the hand going over his junk. They rarely touched it, played with it. But that time, they gripped it. The Shaman gripped it and gave it a firm stroke, one with a forceful hold. One hold enough to pull down the foreskin and up, masturbating Arkillo at a slow pace.

But enough for blood to rush inside, for the sensations to titillate Arkillo's mind, for his body to tense, and for him to wince under the assault.

The index pressed against his cockhead, gave it a firm squeeze. Then, it was over the frenum, collecting what fluids had accumulated on it. For a moment, the Shaman seemed to smell the finger but then returned, satisfied as he stroked Arkillo's cock, massaging it.

All the while, their clicking noises continued. Between the Minder and the Shaman, the two exchanged in their language while Arkillo glanced at both, feeling and knowing they were talking about him.

It made his blood boil, his breathing hasten, his muscles tense.

But with one movement, with one swoop, the Primitive's lips were on his, their wide tongue playing with his long one. He felt the Minder's tongue rummaging his mouth and with his presence, with that touch, Arkillo melted. A part, a subconscious part, was assured the effect was temporary. Yet, the creature kept kissing and assaulting him as the Shaman's hand departed, and so did its owner, disappearing into his tent.

For a moment, an instant, maybe minutes, or an hour, the Minder was kissing and keeping Arkillo tamed, their tongues tying and dancing in an elaborate way as saliva was shared and the muscles coiled.

Then, as if on cue, the Shaman appeared.

He did not go for Arkillo's cock, or rather, he did not go for stroking him again. His fists closed, the Primitive knelt by Arkillo and worked. Worked as a piercing sensation went over Arkillo. He shivered yet remained in the Minder's embrace while the Shaman worked and seemed to drill into Arkillo's cocktip. With a short needle, osseous, the Primitive finished his project.

Then, something cold. Something cold was passed inside Arkillo's urethra, stretching his slit in an unnerving way as the cold material was pressed and then… Poked inside him until the cold metal was passed through: through the urethra and through the opening the Shaman made.

It only took a minute, but after that minute, Arkillo sensed it. A faint energy that was right at his cocktip, a familiar one. Then the weight egged Arkillo to look down. His Minder did not stop him. Surprised, agape, and with a slack jaw, Arkillo saw his Yellow Lantern ring dangling from his cock.

The Shaman had it all along, and during all that time when Arkillo took a dip nearby, he had not sensed it at all.

“What?"

“You are ready, Arkillo. To join us," said the Shaman. In the background, there was still the typical tongue-clicking sound, but in the foreground, there was that voice, deep and solemn.

“What was that?" continued the Yellow Lantern, blinking as he slowly recovered his wits. The effect of the Primitive's kiss was wearing out faster than usual, but by then, the Minder was back taking most of Arkillo's mouth while the Shaman continued.

“You have been purified and deemed worthy to become part of us. There is no need for fear among us, only satisfaction," continued the Shaman as he placed two hands on Arkillo's chest, in a sort of ceremony… Before Arkillo felt those hands depart.

Still, the Yellow Lantern glanced at the Primitive who, still naked, started to play with his own genitals. Ever so slowly, the Alien pulled on the black-skinned sheath he possessed between his legs. Fat and heavy, the ring of skin was slowly undone as the flesh inside expanded. It was not the first time Arkillo saw a primitive's dick… And he had seen the flared tip despite the sheath's presence.

However, it was different to see the flesh throb with life. To admire the cock slowly arising from the sheath's comforting presence and rise. Up and onward, like a pole and a tent. The flare grew in width, similar to the length. Moreover, as the cock pushed further ahead, there was… Yes, the median ring marking the cock half-length, prominent as it was. And then, the base. The base which, as it appeared, was almost devoid of a sheath, except for the bare minimum of skin. For a moment, Arkillo watched and would have gulped if not for the tongue joyfully exploring and teasing his.

“Come. Arkillo. You must be hungry for the ceremonial seed," said the Shaman with that solemn tone. But as he spoke, something clicked in Arkillo's mind.

Guided by the Minder, who released his embrace, Arkillo was led on his knees. His knees scrapping the ground, he watched the Shaman who looked back at him.

“This… is what you have fed me all those days?" he asked with a growl, yet smelling the musky perfume from the Primitive. Bestial, rough, potent. Its mere presence made the Yellow Lantern's stomach grumble.

“Yes. This is what you shall consume to remain pure despite the ring you must bear," said the Shaman as his hand reached for Arkillo's face and drove him closer. Closer to that fur-covered groin, that humongous cock that was almost as big as an arm. And… Yes. That scrotum he was forced to breathe from. The fur covering it was smeared with precum and sweat. The mere smell exacerbated Arkillo's hunger, but taking a whiff was also… Appeasing, soothing. He had no reason to slip away.

[I]Warning: Addictive pheromones produced by the species of the planet Laneus-7430. Do not breathe it.

[/I]Arkillo heard the ring faint warning, yet he took another breath. And another, filling his lungs until it felt like they were bursting, before sighing. The Shaman's hand on his head was gentle, stroking his nape and more as he guided Arkillo higher, guiding the Vornian to open his mouth and let his tongue do the work.

Prehensile and long, the appendage rolled and started to coil around the length. But as it did, every spot, every point touching the fat equine cock was met with a shock, a coursing sensation that went right to Arkillo's brain.

“He is definitively broken? I want a bitch, too," snapped the Minder behind Arkillo, his tongue-clicking going along the frustrated tone of a seemingly veteran from the voice the ring picked for the translation.

“Patience. He is new to this. He has been corrupted by the ring for so long. He must learn what is his purpose here. Why we welcomed him."

The exchange went right above the Yellow Lantern's head as his tongue rolled and slipped until the whole length, closer to a meter, was fully coiled. Even then, most of the Primitive's length remained uncovered. It was impossible to cover it all with his tongue, leaving the Yellow Lantern to feel, taste, and have his thoughts fried by the sheer savor his tastebuds returned. It was potent enough to make his mind go blank, ignore the exchange that went above him as he shifted his posture.

His head backed from the groin, his tongue uncoiled, his back straightened, his hands went on the thighs. And without even thinking, without even trying to take a breather and think… Arkillo plunged, mouth open, against the Primitive's groin.

The organ was wide, massive. But wider was his mouth and mouth. The length was impressive, daunting. But controlled were his reflexes as a Vornian. Perilous and brutal would be to take everything in. But it would be more dangerous for the Shaman if Arkillo still had teeth.

And so, in a moment, Arkillo impaled his throat on that shaft. He gargled, he gurgled as his muscles adjusted and contracted, throttling his breathing and airflow. But he still ushered the mast inside, down to the base… Down to having his muzzle brushing and rubbing against the Shaman's groin and belly. His eyes rolled as his mind was entirely at peace despite the constant noise in the background.

[I]Danger: You are currently in contact with an addictive substance. Do not ingest.

Danger: Consumption may incur-

[/I]The warnings were a droning sound in the back of Arkillo's mind as he clenched his throat muscles around the length, smearing and covering it with fluids as it throbbed inside him. He clenched his esophagus, enough for the equine cock to bulge through. But it only felt better as that cock started to drip. It dripped and directly fed him, dropping right into his stomach. And that first drop of precum was already a wonder, something that eased a pain Arkillo had not felt.

Then, as those drops turned thicker, white, and heavier, the eased pain became a pleasure for the Yellow Lantern as his toothless gums squeezed the organ to coax more fluid out of it. His tongue kept rolling, but with only a portion of the cock to take care of, it easily coiled and covered it all before it started to roll. Roll, brush, caressing, and in doing it smeared all that musky sweat and precum that had accumulated on the skin right onto the tastebuds, searing them with that pungent and potent aroma.

Then, as the flow started to accelerate, as the Shaman above grumbled and moaned, as Arkillo's breathing hastened, as the world itself started to dull… The Vornian pulled his head back. But as he did so, his tongue remained tightly wrapped, and so were his lips and gums. In an instant, the pressure he had imposed onto the base ascended. The tongue went over the median ring as it left, covered with throat slime, and then on the upper half. His gums maintained the pressure, massaging and “gnawing" at the flesh with their soft presences until they, too, reached the median ring.

But not beyond.

Not beyond as that cockhead was about to leave the throat, poking at the uvula. For a moment, everything stopped. Then, Arkillo pushed against the groin, his snout hitting the fat lower belly while his eyes rolled and that throat was swabbed. Then, he pulled back, faster this time. All the time, his stomach was feeling heavier and better.

The alerts were getting more intense, but his mind was shutting off any dangerous signs, any fear, anything but the need to please the Primitive.

Even his fingers went over the male's nuts, massaging them, feeling the semen churning in them. No… The meal he had been enjoying all this time, that wondrous creamy meal he would gulp from the waterskins. He no longer needed a waterskin; he had those balls for it.

And with an utter abandon, with his eyes closing, Arkillo's head back and forth. He released his gums, applying only the barest of pressure with them as he pressed those jaws over the mast. Soon, the gargling noise from his breathing being stifled and released resounded within the cavern for the two Primitives to hear.

Then, something managed to resonate louder and overtake what sound the Vornian produced. Above, the Shaman's clicking tongue was loud and clear, as much as his huffs and grunts. There was no need for a translation; he was about to cum.

Yet, even at the limit, that hand kept massaging the back of Arkillo's head, digging into the scales to massage and beckon him closer… To push him. To force him to take the entire cock back into the welcoming and moist mouth, to the clenching and tight throat.

Then, in one moment, there was… The flow.

Against his muzzle, Arkillo felt the groin tense. He felt the churning in his hands as the scrotum tightened. And then, there was the flow and throb right in his mouth. With each ejaculation, a pulse coursed through the cock and lifted it, making it tap against the esophagus while filling it. With each push, the cock seemed almost to grow inside the coiling tongue's grip. But that sensation ceased. And Arkillo's stomach? It was heavier with each load, enough for him to reach for it and support it as his flesh and scales were stretched. It burned; it was good, too. But more than that, it made him feel at peace… Joyous even as the flow abated. Slowly, shot by shot, the Shaman's erection started to wane and his hand scratching, and egging Arkillo to ease that grip.

The Vornian remained still, however, for a few more minutes, during which he enjoyed the sensation of the shaft slowly shrinking and pulling back. He did not hold on to it, allowing the mast to leave the throat before Arkillo opened his mouth wide and released entirely the shaft, which returned to its sheath.

Then… With a cum-smeared smile, he looked at it… Then up, at the Shaman. Then at his Minder, who put a hand on his head to stroke it.

“He is yours. But use him carefully, we need them healthy and well-cared," commented the Shaman, as if to caution the soldier.

“I will take care of him. And keep him well-fed. Do not worry."

With that answer, Arkillo sensed the hand guiding him away from the Shaman. His head turned, his mouth opened. His belly was heavy, almost looking gravid. He was no longer hungry… Yet, as he saw that other shaft, just as big as the Shaman's and throbbing with life, he could not stop but lick his lips.

“Here you go, the favorite meals for our guest," joked the Minder as he plunged into Arkillo's throat and started to fuck it, satisfied with getting a new bitch.