Sentenced to Brood: Settling In
Graneth begins to take control of the crew.
Trigger Warning: descriptions of death, violence and grief. As with other chapters, forced pregnancy/ impregnation and non/dub con.
Questions and comments welcome
Chapter 4: Settling In
Day 3:
A whirring sound had Graneth lurch toward the cell door as it opened.
Cautiously, he poked his head out. Once past the threshold he was bombarded by dozens of excited voices. The faint shimmer marking a null field fizzled as he walked through.
Around him drakes were surging from their cells, frantic calls filling the air as they searched for their friends and partners.
Each of them had a number on their wrist.
Strangely, all the cells in the block looked like they were on one side of the curved corridor. Was it for privacy? Or to make them feel more isolated?
“Attention: Breakfast time will last for three hours from this point, if you choose not to eat in the cafeteria, food will be brought to your cell."
“Attention: Breakfast time-“
“Graneth!"
A dark blue Tyradon with pale brown eyes jogged toward him. He surged forward and nearly lifted the smaller male with the force of his hug.
“Atkoth!" Graneth choked out. The bastards that captured them hadn't cared enough to share the names of the dead. The sense of relief was making him lightheaded.
A faint rumble from the head against his chest made him realize how tightly he was holding on and he reluctantly let go.
Atkoth looked alright, no wounds aside from the faint burn of a stunner against his chest fur.
“It's good to see you Gran, I'm so happy you made it." Atkoth's smile was bittersweet.
He nodded shortly, staring at the wall as he struggled to regain his composure. Much like the floor, it was made up of a polished grey stone with flecks of darker material. Thick colored stripes of red, yellow, blue, and green marked it with directions.
“!"
Atkoth cleared his throat awkwardly.
“So….quite a place we've found ourselves in isn't it?"
Graneth blinked at him before huffing in dark amusement. Understatement of the decade.
“Yeah; never thought I would be a father and mother at the same time before."
Atkoth's lip twitched.
“None of us did, but there's nothing we can do about it now is there?"
“No, there isn't ." Graneth breathed out. They fell into an uneasy silence, neither knowing what to say to make the situation better.
Several drakes nodded to them as they followed the red path to the cafeteria. Others were more subdued, barely managing to put on foot in front of the other as they followed.
Graneth felt a hand squeeze his shoulder.
“No use in fighting the things you can't change, Gran; you just need to learn to live with them."
His head whipped back at his friend, incredulous.
“Accept that they fucked around with my body and turned me into a elders damned breeder?"
Just the thought of it made him feel sick. Like he was a thing or toy.
“Well, if you put it like that…." Atkoth trailed off, looking embarrassed.
Strange.
Graneth narrowed his eyes at him. “You're taking this very well."
His friend stiffened, wings shrinking back.
“I'm just … adaptable! That's all." He looked away from Graneth's deadpan stare.
Atkoth was never this bad a liar unless it was something big.
With a firm grip down on Atkoth's arm he dragged them to the side of the corridor so everyone else could pass.
“Out with it. What's going on?" He demanded once they wouldn't be overheard.
Everything in his friend's posture screamed discomfort and embarrassment.
“Did the doctor do something else to you?" His wings mantled with protective fury.
“No-no, nothing like that!" Atkoth's tail flicked side to side.
“Then what-?"
“I-it's… I really like the idea of carrying eggs." He blurted out.
Graneth blinked several times, trying to process.
His friend wanted to carry eggs? A thought made him grab at the monitor on Atkoth's wrist.
Atkoth gave a token resistance before he let Graneth see the large number ten on its face.
For a moment he just stared at it, then at his friend whose eyes seemed glued to the floor, then at the number again.
“Ten already?" He asked plaintively.
Atkoth whined in mortification, ducking his head.
Graneth wanted to shake him.
Wanted to snap him out of this insanity.
But there was no point.
They were trapped here, and if his friend was getting some enjoyment from their situation then who was he to stop him?
“I don't understand it, but if it really makes you happy then…. I'm glad you're enjoying yourself?"
The words tasted like ash in his mouth.
Atkoth perked up and hugged him tightly.
“Thanks Gran! I know it's really weird, but I've always wanted to carry eggs since I was young, before I knew it wasn't possible for a male. Hells, for a while my creche thought I was supposed to be a dram."
Atkoth yelped indignantly as Graneth affectionately ruffled his scalp fur.
“I don't care what you are Atkoth, I'm just glad my best friend is still with me."
Atkoth swiped at his hand but the smile on his face was a little more real as they followed after the rest of the crowd.
The cafeteria was a decent size, large enough to seat two hundred. Robotic servers delivered wide legged trays of grey-brown mush to glowering drakes.
On the opposite side of the room from the servers, there was a large quantity of sex restraints and toys on pegboard shelving. A sign in eye-catching red and gold sat over them.
COMPLIMENTARY SEXUAL AIDS
Graneth huffed out a laugh as Atkoth did a double take.
“Food first you deviant."
Atkoth pouted.
The tables were strange, gear shaped things. Each sat eight with the padded seats sitting in the rounded bridge between each tooth.
The angled feet of their trays hooked neatly into the edges on either side of their seats.
“I've never seen tables like these." Graneth commented after he and Atkoth sat down. The angle of the tray made eating a little awkward but he felt he could get used to it.
Atkoth stared at the table for a long moment before he shook his head.
“You probably don't want to know." He took a bite of his food and shrugged at the taste before rapidly shoveling it in his mouth, ravenous.
Graneth tilted his head. “Care to share?"
Atkoth shrugged as if to say your loss and patted his belly, then mimed it expanding. He was too busy chewing to bother explaining aloud.
Against his will Graneth looked at his belly and imagined it rounding out. The arch of the tray sat perfectly over his abdomen, the curve of the table matching as if his belly extended another two feet forward.
Damn this place! Graneth grimaced. He really shouldn't have asked.
“This is herdshit!" One of his table mates seethed as he realized what Atkoth was implying. His claws nearly drew blood from his hands with how tightly he clasped them.
“How can they do this to us? This has to be so illegal!"
“And raidin' and killin' ain't?" Another asked sardonically.
“Well yeah! but they're not supposed to break their own rules!"
“They only care about credits, not people." A third chimed in.
And we cost them a lot of credits. Graneth finished in his head.
“I don't care what they say, I'm not laying eggs for them!" The first replied heatedly.
Atkoth sighed and stopped inhaling his food. “Did you even listen to what the doctor said?"
The miasma of rage over the table seemed to stall for a moment before it was all redirected his way.
“Doctor was full of it! No way-“
“ -stopped listening after the first two-“
“-fuckin with our heads li-“
Like a spark the uproar spread through the cafeteria, the noise level quickly climbing.
Graneth looked around, surprised that the massive black form of the captain was completely absent. He would've stepped in by now if he was here.
It looked like it was up to him. Again.
Graneth took in a deep breath before setting the cheap utensils down with forced calm.
“ENOUGH!" He sprung out of his seat and roared, his voice echoing harshly across the room.
Though he had nothing on Crotak in terms of sheer presence he was still Second for a reason. The noise level in the cafeteria dropped sharply, startled gazes snapping in his direction.
Veridian eyes blazed as Graneth prowled in front of his table.
“Everyone! I know this fucking sucks but yelling at each other about it will fix nothing!"
He paused, his eyes challenging each member of his audience. No one dared answer it.
“Now is the time for us to to stick together and trust each other! We can find a way to get through this!"
He knew better than to make empty promises, so he wouldn't. There was no easy way out of this, but hope would go a long way in keeping tensions down.
“We need to focus on finding a way out of this mess, not focusing on the things we cannot change!"
He glanced at Atkoth, who nodded to him encouragingly.
“And failing that, if we are stuck here then we need to learn how to survive this!"
“I don't want to carry eggs!" A voice from the edge of the crowd cried out.
“You think I want to?" Graneth demanded, snapping his gaze at the offender who wilted and shrank back into their seat.
“We don't have a choice, so suck it up! I hate this just as much as you do, but at least we are still alive to hate it!"
Late at night Graneth retreated to his cell, his thoughts heavy. His hand paused on the sliding door before leaving it open. He felt less trapped that way.
Graneth was exhausted.
He'd spent the day talking to as many as he could, gauging the mood of the crew and trying to reassure them.
The facilities were nice. Too nice if he was being honest.
A full scale pool, a gym, and food that was incredibly filling, if a little bland.
It made him wonder how much money had been put into this place.
Why they'd bothered.
There had to be some kind of angle he wasn't seeing, something those twisted bastards were just waiting to spring at them. But he would drive himself crazy before he even got close to figuring it out.
The flat grey ceiling of his cell begged to be changed. If only it was the dark green he was used to.
He closed his eyes and scoffed. It was stupid to compare a prison cell with his quarters.
Still, he missed it. All the trinkets he'd collected over the years. His paint and art supplies. His journal.
Hells, he'd spent more time living on Red Morning than he had with his parents. That ship was home, for all of them.
And now it was gone.
Five crew gone with it, their bodies cast to the void by uncaring hands.
The survivors traumatized and broken. Their care was yet another duty.
He breathed in, feeling the weight of responsibility press ever heavier on his shoulders.
They would survive. They would adjust, live out the rest of their lives in this place.
And once they were gone, the spirits of the dead would be lost forever.
Unless…
He was no shaman, but he knew the basics. Different songs for different deaths.
Death was unavoidable. Even the best medical tech in the universe couldn't save you forever.
But not all deaths were equal. Some were peaceful, most others horrific.
For his people, death in the void of space was by far the worst. Those five spirits would wander the dark for eternity without their last rites.
He breathed out. It fell to him.
He would guide them back to soil and sky.
Seconds stretched into minutes before he took one more deep breath and let out a hum so low it thrummed in his chest.
He pitched it upward. Waiting, willing the walls to sing with him before he let his voice dim.
Then another deep breath before the sound swelled past his lips once more.
His song alone was not enough, he did not know them like family would. But he would try, for their sakes.
A few cells down Atkoth froze as the sound hit him, memories tickling at his brain.
When he was very young, his great grandfather passed. So many people crowded into the room where he died that he remembered clinging to his mother, afraid he would be stepped on.
When the rites began, the eldest among them hummed just like this. And when their voices made the walls ring, they led the mourning out of the home, their song leading the spirit out of the walls that trapped them so they could be free.
As the sound came again, he took a deep breath and followed.
Graneth's ear twitched as a second voice joined him, then moments later a third.
It was hard to continue. His throat felt as though a vice were around it. But he endured the discomfort. This was too important.
As more and more voices joined the chorus, he pictured the faces of the lost in his mind. Their deeds, good and bad.
He grimaced. Mostly bad. But even still, no one deserved to be trapped forever. He kept the tempo, his voice a guide, a lifeline.
Almost unconsciously, he stepped out of his cell. He could see eyes in the darkened block. His crew. His people. They were watching.
As the voices swelled to nearly everyone in the block he gestured sharply, his eyes staring at the heavens beyond this stony fortress.
“Zanoth! Alvek! Kentok! Menath! Soltark!"
Their names rang in the sudden silence.
Graneth licked his lips and swallowed.
“Those lost to us, we call you from the void between stars, we beg you to find your way here!"
“Return to us, oh lost!" Atkoth called out, one voice out of many.
“Though we are far from home, sky and soil are within your reach! Come! Let your spirits soar on this new world!"
“Join us oh lost!" The chorus returned.
Crotak pressed his hands over his ears as he tried to block out dozens of voices chanting together.
Against his will the ceremony was evoking memories he'd thought long suppressed.
A young dram, her eyes warm as she served him his first food in days. His small hands shoveling it into his mouth; to her helpless laughter.
Her hands covering his eyes until she let him see the den she prepared for him, his joy at finally having a place of his own.
Her eyes blank and unseeing. Blood pooling beneath her, his hands desperately shaking her body as bullets tore apart the brothel walls.
The other drams wailing at the red tinged-sky. Her blood soaking into his fur as he cuddled against her fading warmth.
The heavy gun in his hands. A body slumped in a chair. Her loss avenged.
His new boss congratulating him on a job well done.
His heart raced, fingers digging furrows into skin that itched from stress.
In his office, Dr. Kanta frowned as he pressed a control, sending Crotak into blissful unconsciousness. He could not allow the hen's strange reaction to affect the developing eggs.
Graneth bowed his head, wishing he could see the skies of the world beyond this prison moon.
“May your souls be free in the hereafter!" He intoned, a feeling of peace blanketing him as the ceremony came to a close.
“In the hereafter!" His people called back.
In an upscale apartment on a planet far far away, a pair of drakes watched the recording with very different expressions.
“Well isn't that something my pet." Kentok grimaced at the councilor's amused hiss.
He wasn't sure what to feel.
Graneth was an uptight prick most of the time, but holding a wake for Kentok and the others like that…and as the Shaman no less…
He didn't know the Second had it in him.
Kentok grunted softly as Sevak…Master's cock shifted inside him. The intrusion was almost tolerable after two weeks of constant stretching.
Master was taking his time today, long languid strokes sending thrills of pleasure that Kentok did his best to ignore. He wasn't in danger of an orgasm yet.
A harness made of leviathan leather and stitched with threads of platinum accented his dark brown fur. Only the best for Master's prized toy.
It dangled him from the ceiling just high enough for his legs to support him. Tight straps snaked around his chest and legs. All the better to leave the boulder protruding from his body on display.
The damn thing felt like an anchor. Forty-five eggs at different stages of development were growing inside him, the first few still had two weeks to go.
“How sweet of them to mourn you, I thought that pirates did not care about their dead." He said flippantly.
Kentok's lip curled.
“Though I wonder what they would think if they saw you now, my pet." Sevak leered; his hand stroking Kentok's taut belly appreciatively. The other pulled lazily on Kentok's half hard member.
They would be horrified seeing what was in store for them.
Sevak couldn't wait to see the feeds once that happened. Maybe some of the better recordings could be sold, after some facial editing of course.
“They'd be pissed that I have to fuck your ugly mug." Kentok finally huffed out, golden brown eyes closed at the unwanted pleasure.
The veneer of a smile on Sevaks face cracked before shifting into a sneer.
Normally the former pirate's backtalk was amusing, but Sevak really wasn't in the mood for it after the last few days.
He grabbed his pet's cock tightly in warning, drawing out a pained hiss.
“Let's see if we can get past fifty." Sevak purred malevolently into his ear.
Kentok gasped involuntarily as his master set a punishing pace.
It was going to be another long night.
Author's notes:
Hey all !
I realize now that this story seems more like plot with a side of porn instead of the other way around, but I promise that things get more heated in the next chapter.
The death rites kinda came out of nowhere when I was writing this chapter, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone. I couldn't see these characters just shrugging off the deaths of their comrades so easily.
Yay character development?
I'd been having thoughts on Crotak's backstory along these lines for a while now, so while it doesn't excuse how terrible of a person he became, I think it makes it more understandable.
Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it more than the last chapter. I'm currently editing the next one, and planning maybe two to four at most after that for this story.
Thanks for reading!