Brother Swapping 3
A new routine settles in the prison
A commission for Lightsun168 (FA)
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Brother Swapping 3
A new routine settles in the prison
System Check: 6 AM. 1 day since your incarceration. Allocer, Your Home
“Wakey wakey, new flesh. It’s time.”
Meero grumbled. His eyes were puffy, and opening his eyelids hurt. His eyes burned, his heartbeat hit the back of his head. Around, the Predators moved with a relaxed demeanor.
They stretched, even the Komodo Dragon and his peg leg, and laughed.
“Good night, ay?”
“Yeah. I had to do two at once; that was good.”
“Fuck. Arms are hurting. Me don’t want cook.”
Meero listened as he slowly sat up. His eyes were bloodshot; his body a sore existence.
Was it how it happened if his system wasn’t flushing anymore?
He grumbled, twitching and checking his arms as he flexed them, finding how even his sense of touch was dulled. He exhaled, looking at the Predators waiting for him.
“Flesh coming?”
“… Yeah,” he mumbled, reaching for his head, where his shaved horns were, and then stood up, following them.
“We bake before they wake!”
“So early?” huffed Meero, scratching his neck. Yep, even sore there.
“Nobody wants hungry. Come, be fast.”
Once out of the room, there were… No prey. Practically a silence around as Meero watched the ‘dormitory’ with all the curtains closed, separating the different rooms. All rooms were like so, except theirs, the Predators’.
The same predators who seemed at ease, compared to Meero, as they descended the stairs to the same kitchen.
Again, nobody to bother them. Nobody watched them as a group for the moment. With the added presence of a Bearded Vulture, the ‘baking’ process began.
“Why are you doing this?” asked Meero, rolling dough with a makeshift pastry roller while flour was sprinkled on it by the Tiger.
“Putting the flour? You don’t want the dough to stick. If not, you do it again.”
“No… This,” mumbled Meero, pointing at the oven, the kitchen, and all the predators. “They clearly look at you like you’re…”
“Pets? Slaves? Inferior Predators?” asked the Tiger, raising an eyebrow.
“All this, yes.”
“They treat us like that. But they protect us,” answered the Tiger, crossing his arms and pointing to his kin. “Joshu has heart issues. Siu has a peg leg. Aker has mind issues. We can’t protect ourselves.”
Meero looked at them, respectively. And how they nodded, except the Wolf, who seemed far too busy watching the oven.
“It doesn’t sound fair. They’re using you like whores.”
“And we are fine,” answered the Tiger. “Don’t be stupid. This place is good for us. For you, too.”
“For me?”
“You are not used to this. Already taken, too. You get out, others will find you.”
“I am not weak,” replied Meero, huffing and frowning.
He clenched his teeth as he rolled the dough until it was practically a sheet, and then… He slipped the board across, took another, and did what the Tiger did before, sprinkling flour.
“We don’t judge,” said the Tiger.
“I’m not weak!”
This time, Meero shouted.
The eyes were on him, even the Wolf, who seemed surprised. Blood rushed to Meero’s face. To his belly… And then, he turned to the dough, practically crushing it.
“Never mind.”
“You are stress. That is normal. Take it easy. Steadfast won’t force you. So long you help.”
“I’ve got better things to do, here.”
“We are in a prison. Nothing matters. Keyun told you yesterday.”
“You listened?”
“We all heard, even in the other rooms,” laughed the Tiger, busy adding dry raisins to the dough. “You are lucky. We are not like other gangs. We care.”
“You are all prisoners. Maybe you will betray. Or be betrayed.”
The Tiger scoffed, turning to Meero.
“Why you are here?”
“Rule N°1-“
“Never say why you are here. Yes, yes,” said the Tiger, rolling. “Siu is here because he lost a leg and wanted the big corporate to pay. Joshu worked accounting before Boss sold him. I worked front for the local mafia. They threw me in, too. Aker… We don’t know for Aker.”
Meero glanced at the Wolf, who had returned to his oven. But the others were listening.
“Not everyone is bad. We were abused here. Siu even got his leg stolen,” pointed the Tiger toward the Komodo Dragon, who nodded. “So this is better than away.”
“You could stay here, too. Even if you’re looking for that Keero guy?”
Keyun’s voice broke the ambiance; such was the Deer’s presence, naked and leaning against a room divider, right by the curtain door. He’d been preparing his entrance, because when he entered, he passed by Meero and stroked his shoulder. But then, he bee-lined for the Tiger, scratching the Feline’s nape and even kissing him.
A long, luscious, and almost loving kiss, with the Feline answering with a purr.
“You got me my rolls?”
“Not yet. Been busy explaining new meat,” said the Tiger, kissing back.
Meero huffed and returned to the roller, forcing… And finally, producing another sheet, he placed it away before he prepared more dough, more sheets… More dull work.
“I heard that,” confirmed Keyun, patting the Tiger’s back. “Everyone heard you shouting.”
Meero slowed and eyed Keyun, then lowered his head.
“Sorry.”
“I don’t care. But others might want you to repeat that,” said the Deer, coming to help with the baking. He helped roll the fruits and the sheets to prepare the little breads that looked like nothing Meero had eaten in Esochia. Not fancy, ugly. But probably comestible.
And now… Meero was feeling hungry as the sweet aroma came from the oven. Sweet and sugary, enough to melt his teeth.
Even though his stomach growled, he continued the work he’d been given until he didn’t have more dough to roll. And so, he had to help the Wolf pull the trays out, watching out for the mute Canine.
Steadily, slowly, the Steadfast members entered the Kitchen.
Each time, they frowned at Meero, even glared at him, while they picked what their breakfast was. Bread with fruits, with sugar, glazed… No chocolate, though. But it looked far more palatable than anything Meero guessed you’d find in a prison.
Even Esthor, the ram, entered and retrieved his part before he left… Up until no one came, and Keyun sighed, patting Meero’s back.
From the pile of pastries they’d prepared, there was nothing left but the ugliest, the mismatched, the half-crushed or crumbling goods. Keyun took a pasty, bit into the jam-filled pastry, and then waved it at Meero while the other Predators took their own.
“Eat before it goes bad.”
The Dragon, for a moment, stood aside. But he grabbed the last pasty and bit, the jam inside sweet and… Yes, surely coming from a country he knew little about.
But to his stomach that had been screaming to death, that was… relief.
He groaned, taking another bite while the other Predators were doing the same.
“Don’t bite too much. You’ll choke,” said the Tiger, laughing.
“He funny,” added Siu, the Komodo Dragon, wiping his lips.
“I’m…” said Meero, before he lowered his head and ate. More quietly.
It was weird. Odd. Unexpected. But eating what he’d helped bake made him feel closer to home, closer to the old time, before he was back… To reality. To the place that was oddly silent now. No sound outside the kitchen except for two or three people speaking. And… Meero wiped his lips with his thumb.
“What now?” he asked, looking at Keyun, who smiled back, stretching.
“Nothing. We wait.”
“We… Wait?” asked Meero.
“We wait. This is a prison, not a theme park,” explained the Deer, getting a few chuckles from the Predators who sat on the floor for Aker, the Tiger, and the Siu. As for the Bearded Vulture, Joshu, he stepped out.
“He’s not waiting?” asked Meero, sitting down, too, with Keyun deciding to sit between him and the Tiger.
“Joshu likes to do some overtime,” laughed the Deer.
“He likes to please.”
Meero cocked an eyebrow as Keyun leaned back, his spine against the makeshift counter.
“You can leave, if you want. I’m here to make sure no other gang comes to bother you.”
“You’re our nanny?”
“And guard, so I see you’re not fucking us over.”
“And the others outside?” said Meero, pointing outside the kitchen with his thumb.
“So nobody enters our little home. But nobody tries that. We have a good reputation.”
Meero remained silent for a moment. If they needed guards… Then.
He stood up, stretching his legs and arms, feeling the slightly dulled articulation follow his orders with a delay.
“Already leaving us?”
“This place is not safe if you must have guards.”
A chuckle, shared. Even from Aker.
“The place is very secure,” he said, relaxed. “If not stabbed after one day, it is very safe.”
“It’s certainly safer than where you plan to go. Do you remember the road?”
“Yes,” answered Meero, rolling his eyes. “I must go to C30 and then, A22, right?”
“You can’t cross through. C30 then C22, then A22,” explained Keyun, shaking his head, visibly disappointed. “You got a death wish, don’t you?”
Meero’s shoulders dropped, especially as he heard those chucklefucks nod along.
“Fine. There is a reason I cannot cross. Can you tell me why instead of circling around?”
“I can…” said Keyun, audibly musing as he looked around and received nods from the Tiger and the Komodo Dragon. “If you stay for another day.”
“Why would you need me for another day?”
“As you can see, we’re low on the Predators. I hope to make you stay here, full time.”
“Unlikely,” grumbled Meero, crossing his arms. “But I can agree for another day.”
“Good. You need willingness if you want to survive,” nodded along the Tiger.
And so did the Komodo Dragon.
It was… Definitely weird.
However, Keyun proved to know a great deal about the place.
Though he didn’t have a map or anything to draw, he could explain what he saw in his mind. Most gangs formed rough blocks, hogging even a few districts; there were ‘roads’ that remained open. These were often seen by the neon lights that were hung around, separating the gangs from the markets, to what could be described as ‘communities’ or proto-gangs.
It was feasible to cross through a community, but it was possible for gang members to roam the nearby neighborhoods, either to recruit, bully… Or to extort money from the residents. A non local? That was a call for abuse or to end up tied and have their IDs milked.
“Milked IDs?” asked Meero, on the floor. His jumpsuit was off, now repurposed as a mat.
There was more sound outside the Kitchen, though it wasn’t midday. Those were ‘refused’ on the contract, the few Preys that hadn’t been picked to work at the ‘factory’.
So they were hanging around, and some were leaving or going. Joshu had returned, resting, and Aker went with a young Water Buffalo he seemed to appreciate.
“Your ID gives you a daily allowance. Some gangs are keeping prisoners so they can use their allowance,” explained Keyun, raising a finger. “When they do that, they also take their implants… Or do worse.”
Keyun grimaced, but so did Meero at the idea. Having his limbs was not among the best experiences you could live. And being used as a living wallet? To be beaten and roughed up.
“And Guards do nothing about it?”
“So long as the person is alive and can be called for tests, it’s alright.”
“Called… For tests?”
“Yes. Sometimes, you’ll be called. You’ll receive a notification to present at one door. You get there, and you get paid.”
“What kind of tests?”
“Do you want to know?” asked Keyun, waving his hand. “Another day with us.”
“Is this slavery?” asked Meero, grumbling.
“It would be if I forced you. But you know so little.”
“Urgh,” grunted the Dragon, pressing his hand to his face.
He was getting tied up, but the more he asked, the more he had to know.
The debriefing had been so short, and it was obvious his ID tagged him, so he missed a few details. Even his choice to leave Fleshie led him here, where he was taught basic information like a child. Like a toddler who’d learned to take steps and walked out the door.
And the humiliation, the pain.
“Another day. But can I be asked to get tested right now?”
“Usually, no,” answered Keyun, shaking his head. “They leave the new prisoners alone. They’ll give you such a tiny allowance so you’re ripe to accept the tests when they want.”
“…”
Meero looked around the furnished kitchen. If staying outside was so terrible, how could it be they had enough to cook around?
“Is there something else you’d like to ask?”
“All this. This place. How… Does it work? How did you get all those metal sheets? And that food. You’re getting it here?”
“Oh… Ohhh,” said Keyun, chuckling. “I’ll ask the Boss if he can show you.”
“The boss…. The Ram?”
“Call him Boss, Ram is too… Sensible for him.”
“Got it,” mumbled Meero, nodding. Before he heard steps.
Then, Keyun stood up, and so, Meero finally saw where the food came from. Preys entered the rooms, carrying massive pallets filled with food. Greens, mainly. Also, a few steaks that looked wrapped. And then, bags of seeds. Flour. Even a bag of sugar.
The Predators were picking from the pallets, setting everything aside while Keyun watched.
Meero was pushed aside after he’d tried to help, only to be shushed by the trio of Predators at work.
“How did you get that?”
“Those on the night shift buy it,” said Keyun, smiling.
“They… Buy it. Like a shop.”
“Like a shop,” confirmed the Tiger. “Experiment by Allocer. Trying to make a nation.”
“What does that mean?”
“Do not be afraid of how weird it gets. That place… Weirdos run it,” said Keyun.
“Crazies!” added Siu.
Meero could only agree. He pinched the base of his nose, finding that this mission needed more than a single member.
Alas, he exhaled, and approached once the trio of Predators, soon joined by Aker, were back to preparing. And cooking. Only then to rest, sit, and wait until their next shift.
That was their role, their duty, and though they were all taking it easy, Meero was starting to feel nervous. Anxious even.
He tapped the floor with his feet, and his hands fidgeted. He almost jumped to his feet when another group of Prey entered, carrying the same pallets that were to be taken out soon after.
That was almost a routine, though Keyun left at one time to take some rest while another Prey, a Roster, took his spot. That one was silent, and often massaged his throat, so Meero didn’t ask him much.
Truth was, once Keyun was out, there was little the Dragon could ask, so he remained silent, doing his part… And then, when it was evening, Keyun brought him back to the bedroom while, below, they were fucking once more.
Sleeping, waking up early, though this time with the Rooster doing the watch duty.
Baking followed, same as feeding, resting, receiving the deliveries, cooking for another shift, resting again. Three times per day, and yet. Meero was already feeling the dull work setting in… And his world somehow reduced to this, as he could not step out unguarded. If he tried to leave, the Rooster would stop him or ask him why.
If it was to answer his biological need, he was led to the squat toilets not far from the stairs, with the peace that he could use the water jet to clean his ass.
But that was it. Leaving? That seemed out of the question, and the other Predators would ask him to stay put.
Meero could stand up and push through, to fight his way out… But he knew… He knew better than to fight his way in or out without preparation.
He asked for Keyun, but that Deer wasn’t there at all to answer his questions.
As for the others, they knew little about the prison's plan.
The how, the what… But where was the C9, and what were the dangers?
He sighed… Reaching for his head as he faced the Tiger, resting too.
“Where is Keyun?”
“Busy with the boss or outside. Running errands.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Don’t know. But that’s how he met you? Like me.”
Meero nodded, looking around. His jumpsuit had been taken, and he didn’t know where it had gone. But at that point, it cared little. Even though the place looked dingy, the kitchen floor was clean. Sometimes, Aker would leave and return with a mop. But that was it.
On the contrary, that was Meero who felt the dirtiest and smelliest around. The others had clean fur or scales. Him? He was dirty.
Feeling like so. Terribly so as he huffed and pressed his neck against the back after another shift… And yet, hearing steps.
“So early?” he asked, watching as the Rooster stepped away, making him cock an eyebrow before he turned to the Predators, who shrugged.
Then he turned to the entrance, hearing the voices.
“I’ll tell you, the Scales will try to enter our territory again.” Keyun.
“They shouldn’t, if they know what’s good,” said another. Esthor. “Now, you want me to see our recruit?”
So the duo appeared, with Keyun waving his arm and turning to Meero to wave at him.
“Hello, Croc boy.”
Meero huffed but then stood up. He was feeling sore; he was feeling dirty; he was tired of this routine. He stood up, puffed out his chest, and approached.
He didn’t speak or ask; he only approached before maintaining a distance from the Ram, who eyed him up and down.
Keyun? He already reached for Meero’s shoulders, rubbing them.
“What do you think? He might need a tour. Or maybe he needs to wait a few day-“
“Come with me.”
Esthor didn’t ask. He ordered. But his stance, his gaze. Now, Meero could tell. That one wasn’t a mere prisoner, and Meero nodded, following the Ram.
“Oh, okay. I’ll stay here watching our lovely Preds!” said Keyun, waving behind while Meero was led through the house. Not toward the bedroom, but where the steam came regularly.
Baths. Or showers.
Either way, approaching them brought along the scent of cheap soap and salty water. And a few moments later, behind the dividers, the house seemed to include a real room. Or rather, that house was leaning against a block of communal showers for support.
Once inside, the blue tiles everywhere, plus the typical showerheads, were a giveaway. That and the bars of soap attached to the showerheads.
“Can-“
“Yes. You can. Go take a shower before we go outside,” said the Ram.
Pleasure. Bliss.
After those days of utter disgust, the warm shower was blissful. So darn good for the Dragon as he felt the water rush along his limbs, along his muscles, along his scales. It wouldn’t wash away the crassness of that place.
But as the water turned clean and the iodine smell replaced the dirt, Meero felt lighter. Much lighter than he needed.
So much lighter, he sighed when he stepped out of the communal shower with the one-armed Ram waiting for him, his face tense.
“Uh…”
Meero stopped, watching the cloud of steam hanging around. Then he mumbled, his head low.
“Sorry for the water. I think.”
“Wait here.”
The Ram’s order was… Without equivocal. And Meero waited before the Ram went back with what looked like old flip-flops.
“Put this. You’ll need it.”
Meero’s eyes lit up even further. He didn’t have to walk without shoes anymore, never to step in the dirt or grime. A pleasure as he put the flip-flops that were… Loose for him but not by far. It was much more comfortable than walking barefoot… And a bit more than for Esthor and his hooves.
“You can walk with them?”
“I can’t run. But walking is fine.”
“Good enough. You’ll tag along,” said the Ram, snapping his finger and signaling Meero to follow.
A few more steps and… Meero was outside, in the dirt. In the whole shantytown that was the prison. He huffed, looking high above. The sky was blue, intense, blinding, almost.
The crowd was louder, but not as overwhelming.
The Dragon could make out the people shouting insults, discussing idly, the tense discussions, even the moment of awkward face-offs from the back alleys.
“Oi. Faster, slowpoke,” said Esthor, calling out to Meero.
They were going eastward, toward the nearest wall of the prison.
Its mere presence was impressive and visible from afar, should one raise his gaze. Which… Meero did, still following the Ram. And hurrying to catch up whenever he coughed.
They were going through small streets, ascending to a second level as they reached what looked like a large block of steel and metal and… Concrete? It didn’t look like the house he’d been living in. More like stacks of containers with concrete sprayed on top.
“What is this?”
“Questions later,” grumbled Esthor, the Ram leading the way to a door he knocked at.
Silence.
Again, Esthor knocked and grumbled.
But more silence.
Up until he turned to Meero.
“Kick that door for me.”
“It’s…”
“Kick it, slowpoke.”
“Should I?”
“If you want an answer about the Templars, yes. So now, kick that door.”
Meero gulped, but he raised his feet and kicked the door with the flip-flops. Sure enough, there were makeshift locks, and someone had put up a barricade. But that was it. A kick from the Dragon had been enough to burst the door open… And for a waft of body in decomposition to hit Meero’s nose.
He gargled, coughed… he huffed. And watched what looked to be a one-room home. All concrete, all chaotic, and yet… On the opposite end, a corpse.
It looked to be another Ram, though Esthor clicked his tongue as he watched this and the knife by the body.
“Crap,” he mumbled, passing a hand through his coarse fur on his chest. “We’ll need them to pass that to the corpse eaters. I hate this.”
“Who… What’s that?” asked Meero, covering his nose and stepping closer. The place was furnished with an old plastic table and chairs, completed with a dirty mattress. Beyond that, it was bare.
“One med-tech… Well, one of the few capable of being a med-tech,” said Esthor, huffing. “I heard he ran here and bought that room with three weeks ' worth of food. I thought I’d be able to recruit him, but…”
Seeing the dark, caked puddle on the floor and the knife. That idea was pretty much dead.
“Wait. A med-tech? There are med-techs?” asked Meero, observing the guy’s corpse.
The smell was horrendous, but the guy’s expression was worse. Fear and horror. Disgustingly so. Wide-open eyes that had turned slightly green, the slightly open face.
His arms and legs were augmented, the same as one part of his chest and neck. But everything a med-tech could use was gone.
Then, the door locked. Or slammed shut, with Esthor sighing and pointing at a chair.
“Sit down.”
“Here? In front of a corpse? I’m… I’m not going to have a discussion here.”
“That’s it, or no discussion, slowpoke. Now sit. Because you won’t stay tomorrow.”
The tone was cold, harsh. In a reflex, Meero sat and gulped, watching the Ram do the same, though he was slower as he had one arm and watched for the dried puddle of blood.
His blue eyes were fixed on Meero, even as he leaned back on the chair while the Dragon seemed to lean forth more and more.
“Now tell me. Who sent you here?”
“Me? I- I’m here for murder, that’s-“
“Bullshit,” scoffed the Ram, his fingers patting the table. “You work for the authorities. But what and who? The Union? Local police? Corporate police? Allocer internal security?”
“I- I don’t-“
“You came from the market. Keyun saw that, but he didn’t get it. He doesn’t know there’s direct access to Fleshie’s office there. Or was.”
“What?”
Esthor frowned… Then placed his hand, palm flat, on the table. The dried mugs and the dirty plates were only an inch away, but he hit the table square.
And Meero almost jumped, surprised.
“Tell me who you work for.”
“I-“
“Don’t bullshit me.”
“I can’t tell you!”
“Are you an informant sent here? Someone who’s coerced? Who holds your balls?”
“Nobody! Fuck! Why are you interrogating me?”
“Because you asked for the Templars’ first day in. Because you look like you’re so much better than us. You’ve never committed a crime, have you?”
Meero looked away, shaking his head.
“I need to find someone.”
“Go to C9. Find Keero Scalebane. Yes? You need to keep an eye on him?”
Meero tensed, his fist clenching under the table.
“Yes. I need to find him.”
If that guy was one of them. Aligned with the Templars, he had to take them down.
“I’ll provide you with a guide to C9, not just Keyun’s crappy explanations. He will take you to C9. He will help you with the gangs on the way. But I need to confirm something before.”
“What is this?” asked Meero, straightening up and now curious. Still, he kept his fist under the table.
“Is Keero a med-tech? And how do you know him?”
Meero’s fist clenched more, his feet tensing. Something Esthor seemed to notice as he passed his arm around his belly.
“I can’t tell you.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
“Won’t.”
“Ok.”
Meero’s fist relaxed in surprise as he watched Esthor’s attitude relax.
He even smiled, straightened up.
“It’s fine,” said the Ram.
Meero’s fist eased, his eyes half-closed. He pushed with his hands on the table, ready to stand u-
Smack!
Something hard and metallic hit the side of Meero’s face. Usually, his implants would have taken back. Usually, he would be up on his feet and ready to fight. But the lack of feedback took him by surprise, as much as the table sent on his way.
Though it was plastic, its size was cumbersome. Especially since Meero had been sitting all that time.
Suddenly, he had to push a table aside while dazed by the mug hitting his face.
His surprise was perceptible, visible. And it was taken advantage of when a hoofed leg collected him in the chest, sending him sprawling down. Sending him falling practically back-first along with the chair.
The hit hurt; that damn hoof hit his torso like a truck. But as Meero fell, he reached for something. The ground… He found himself with his hand touching something sticky and disgusting.
His reflex was to push away, to avoid the touch. A weakness that was exploited when the Ram’s hoof hit him in the chest again. In that short instant, Meero ended up gasping and gargling while the Ram’s hoof and weight were on him.
Meero’s legs were still lifted by the chair, the plastic digging into his sides. And the Ram was above, victorious with one single arm.
“The first time people fight without their implants, they’re surprised. That’s how I lost my arm,” grumbled the Ram, pointing at the stump. “Now that the lesson is done, cop boy. Tell me who you work for.”
“Interpol! I work for Interpol! I can’t tell you more.”
“Interpol? Shit. They’re coming for Allocer? Where was your office? Who’s your director?”
“What? No. Why would they come?”
“Because…” began Esthor, looking down. He pressed further into Meero’s chest, making him wince and feel the pain of his reinforced ribs. Old pain, but still hard to bear as he spoke with a whistling voice.
“Stop… Lift it.”
“You’re here for the Templar and that Keero. Where are you from? Who’s your director?”
“I’m from Esochia! And I can’t tell-“
“Who’s your director?”
“Joss! Local Director Joss! I’m an Inspector!”
“What happened outside?!”
“They… They bombed a Ziggurat. They destroyed one. I told Keyun!”
Shit.
Esthor raised his foot, letting Meero breathe. And huff. And grumble.
“What’s… What’s that? Why… Why did you-“ huffed Meero, reaching for his chest.
Breathing burned, but he didn’t have anything broken. Bruised at best since he couldn’t count on the internal fluids hardening around his bones in case of a hit.
He looked and examined himself, then looked up. To Esthor, who grimaced, scratching his chin.
“What are you? Who are you?”
“Esthor. I worked for Evechia's internal security. But I was thrown aside after a crap show five years ago.”
“The coup?”
“The coup,” nodded the Ram, grumbling and reaching for his neck. “I’ve been stuck here for five years. And never before have I seen the place go to shit so easily. Yet, here you are.”
“How…” mumbled Meero.
“How what?” asked Esthor, watching the Dragon stand up on his wobbly legs.
“How can I trust what you say is true?”
“Because I didn’t kick your face until you died, slowpoke,” said the Ram, turning to the corpse. “Fuck. It would have been easier if that guy hadn’t died. Med-tech can confirm if people are lying.”
“Why’s that? Why did you bring me here?”
Esthor grimaced.
“I need you to leave our compound. Guards have been sniffing around our place.”
Meero remained silent, approaching and watching the corpse again. The makeshift knife covered with blood, the expression.
“That’s the second med-tech who left the Templar’s corners and died before reaching us. I wanted to secure him for ourselves.”
Meero watched the Ram, his tension as he exhaled and straightened up, rolling his shoulder.
“What do you want to ask?”
“I’ve… I don’t know. Why do you trust me? Why do you need a med-tech? And… What’s happening around? Why do you say this place goes to shit?”
“That’ll be long.”
Long, it was. Enough that Meero grabbed the chair while Esthor explained.
Esthor was an internal agent for the Crown before the coup, but his superior ditched him and sent him here. For the last five years, he’d been maintaining a semblance of order as a member of the Steadfast before joining them.
They’d been cutting their corner of the prison, using their numbers, order, and their physical capacities to work for the factory.
They were all forming a sort of ecosystem, though every med-tech that might have cropped up was always caught and sent to the Templars’ corner.
The few who’d set up shops were caught a few months later.
Lately, things were going to shit with people on the loose, murdering without fear of being caught by the security. Rape cases increased. And the med-techs were fleeing the Templars.
Worse, the guards were moving away from the Templar district and cracking down on the other corners of the prison.
“Since you arrived, the Guards have been sniffing around our place. They must be looking for you. Someone or something must have been tipped off.”
“I…. Could it be linked to Fleshie?”
“Fleshie? Why? He’s a broken record, incapable of telling anyone shit. He is good at his work. But he’s a fucker who doesn’t care about anything but his pleasure. Can’t be him.”
“He… He noticed my arrival.”
“Your arrival? Like he noticed your ID or kept you.”
“He noticed my fake ID,” mumbled Meero, joining his hands while leaning forward on the chair. Watching the Ram act calm, collected.
“Anyone else could have known?”
“I don’t think so. Here, I’m Meef Anver. I was tagged with a Rapist’ ID and… I…” Meero gulped again, smelling the antiseptic. “I was brought to Fleshie on my first day.”
Even Esthor looked away, grimacing.
“Sorry for you, slowpoke. Allocer isn’t a nice prison. It’s a shit-show. But it’s quickly getting worse.”
“What… What will I do?”
“Leave.”
Esthor’s words were harsh again. But it wasn’t animosity.
“You’re here on a mission. You’ll have your golden ticket out. You need to go to C9. If so, there’s a reason. I’ll dispatch a guy who’ll help you. He’s a wild card, but you can handle it.”
“So I’m leaving right now? On the dot?”
“During the night.”
“But. During the night-“
“The Guards won’t be around to bother. But I need a request from you.”
“A… Request?”
“If you find a med-tech there, tell him to come to our compound. Even if he’s a Predator.”
“You have something against the predators to treat them like that?”
“Me? No. But some of the gang, yes,” said Esthor. “Before I arrived, many of ours ended on the Flesh-eaters’ tables. We pushed back, and now we have a truce. Had.”
“Had? What, they’re fighting?”
“The place will be worse.”
“Okay… And why do you need a med-tech?”
Esthor merely shrugged before pointing at his genitals.
Meero looked at the finger, then the groin. He groaned: “Really?”
“Do you know how it is to spend many years while pent up? With your balls about to burst but no way to cum?”
“I don’t, but-“
“No but. I can keep my people working with what we have in this system. But they’re dissatisfied. If I secure a med-tech that can remove the virus or lock on that, we’ll have more power against the other gangs.”
“That’s it? Using their need to cum to gain control?”
“That’s how the women have been doing so far to keep control over their district. No need to be so quick to judge, slowpoke.”
Meero huffed and grimaced.
“Ok. So I’ll tell a med-tech to come here. What else?”
“It would be a good opportunity for you to join us tonight.”
“Pass. I’m in a couple.”
“I wasn’t thinking about a relationship. You’ll feel lighter once you blow your load. You’ll be more focused on what you want to do.”
“I… I am focused,” grumbled Meero, grimacing. “I don’t need to cum to do that.”
“Are you sure? When was the last time you had a proper system flush? When was the last time you didn’t feel a lag whenever you moved your arms? Or legs?”
Meero recoiled at the words, at the accuracy of what he was feeling about his arms and legs.
“Everyone here, in that prison, got implants. Many more got implants for their genitals, like you. So… Imagine how it works when a half-baked virus plays with them and keeps locking all the error messages? You don’t even know what’s malfunctioning, no?”
Again. Accurate. Meero’s shoulders dropped.
“That’s why we do that, too. Because somewhere, somewhen, a guy decided men should be controlled through their dicks. Then they abandoned it because it was disgusting. Join us, have a moment. Then, you’ll feel much better before you run into the Templars.”
Meero looked at the Ram, at his genitals, at his gruesome, ugly face that was still beaming with a sense of satisfaction.
“Could I get a shower after that?”
“Sure.”
“And something that’s not greens?”
It’s been a while since he’d eaten something that wasn’t green or salads or assimilated. Even roasted beans were doing little to satisfy his appetite. A situation that led him to hold his belly as they left the condo behind, not without Esthor shaking his head while eyeing a nearby Prey. “What’s that?”
“He’ll handle the corpse,” explained Esthor, leading the way. “Now, follow me. And act like you’re my muscles.”
This time, they walked away from the walls and inward. They walked towards the center. And as they walked, they had to descend. It wasn’t a slope, but they were taking small steps steadily until they were almost two stories deep, and the place was darker. Yet, the houses around were starting to build up.
Neon lights brought clarity and showed the way forward, even as it felt like they were walking into a concrete maze. The ‘center’.
“Who owns this place?”
“Not your place to ask.”
“Really?”
Meero huffed, but Esthor didn’t answer. They walked while kept under scrutiny by people who had little to do but watch. They were as famished as the Edge guys.
Then, as quickly as possible, Esthor took a sharp turn, approached one house, and knocked on a metal door.
A moment later, the door opened. But as Esthor entered, the Ram pointed fingers at Meero.
“Wait outside.”
“… Fine,” said Meero, crossing his arms over his chest and then leaning against the wall. The street was dingy, with water accumulating in puddles. The walls were all made of steel, though darker as if repainted. And it was only by craning his neck up that he could see the sky above.
Strange place, like there must have been something here. Then, he huffed.
“I’ll-“
“Tell them I won’t pay for more!”
Meero cocked his eyebrow, listening to Esthor’s shout coming from inside.
The Ram was in a heated argument with someone. Enough for him to lose his temper and to be raging, even smacking something.
“I said no. They didn’t honor their part. Now, I’ll rely on outside help.”
Muffled voice.
“I’ll regret it? Tsh! They should have said that the moment they did that.”
More muffled answers.
“Fuck you, too!”
With that, the door was open, and Meero was almost tempted to lean to see what was inside. But Esthor closed it behind him, grumbling.
“Let’s go. Fast.”
“What was that? I could hear you from outside.”
“You’re listening to the doors in your job?”
“Not unless I’m forced to hear the outburst,” said Meero, rolling his eyes. “What’s this place?”
“You better be wary,” said the Ram… And they walked on their way out, but Meero could sense someone’s glare burning a hole in his back. Terrible sensation.
Steadily, the light came back; their ascension was fast. But as Meero turned to look over his shoulder, he could look at the structure, at the overall… Hole in the prison.
“What are those people? That hole?”
“A melting pot for those who don’t want to meet the Guards or stay away from the gangs. Neutral zone, if you want.”
“But crossing it is dangerous?”
“Not if you know the locals. Otherwise, you get shivved,” explained the one-armed Ram curtly. “Don’t say anything about what you might have heard.”
“I only heard you ramble about a deal.”
“They provided me with the info about the med-tech and assured me he could help. The guy died. They want more. I refused,” said the Ram, smacking Meero’s back before he grumbled on their way to their outpost. “Keep that to yourself. No, keep everything to yourself. Don’t tell your crimes. Not even to your Guide. If anyone asks why you’re leaving, say I don’t want you to stay.”
“Is that true?”
“Only if you remain a slowpoke,” answered Esthor, advancing with a straight back to the Steadfast compound, a grin on his face. One that pulled on his gnarly and scar-covered face.
The walk back went quickly, and so did Meero’s reassignment to the Kitchen. Without a doubt, the gang asked him what that was all about. His sole answer was that he’d leave because Esthor didn’t want him to stay.
“What did you do to make Esthor angry?” asked the Tiger, grimacing.
“Nothing. I think we don’t have similar… Vibes.”
“Vibes. Impossible,” answered the Tiger, shaking his head. “We can ask others. The place is safe.”
“No, it’s fine,” answered Meero, shaking his head. “I’ll be leaving after your little evening.”
“You plan to join?”
“Perhaps?” asked Meero, shrugging.
No. The smell of antiseptic remained. But he could ignore it and breathe out, even smile as he watched the quartet of Pred looking at him.
“Ok. I might.”
They grinned. He grinned a bit, though nervous. Cheating on his boyfriend, was it really a thing? It happened; he’d been abused before… Now? Would it be different if he did this willingly?
The answer came as a ‘yes’; that was different, and he would participate, so there was no way to absolve himself. But something tried to rationalize everything, even as he worked in the Kitchen, watched over by Keyun. The Deer remained awfully silent this time. He wasn’t even going for kisses with the Tiger.
No explanations, nothing to add.
Finally, as the meals were ready, the Deer’s hand landed on Meero’s shoulder.
“Let’s get you-“
“Ahem!”
Meero did not even open his mouth, but that was Esthor intervening, coming inside.
No other Prey, though the chatter from outside the Kitchen was catching the Dragon’s attention before he turned to the Ram.
“I’ll have him for myself,” said Esthor, scratching his belly.
“That’s… I was the first to find him,” grunted the Deer, the head low.
“You’ll have him for you later,” said Esthor with a cunning attitude, before winking to Meero. “Come with me, slowpoke.”
Much like a fish out of water, Meero was uncomfortable. He’d been through the compound, he’d seen the many rooms with the tables that looked almost like parlors. But this time, it was different as he was surrounded by prey. By men, by other men who looked burly, covered with scars, gnarly, old, young. And all gruff. Reshaped by an environment that wanted something out of them: their submission.
The Dragon gulped as he felt the gazes run over his body, his posterior, as he was led to the showers and again made to take one.
“Shorter, this time. Someone took his sweet time today,” said Esthor, poking at the Dragon, who hastily scrubbed himself. Even his posterior when the Ram pointed him to turn and scrap that ass… Leading to the Dragon feeling the hot water rushing into his ass when the shower head was almost shoved between his cheeks.
He hissed, he grumbled. But soon after, he sighed and felt cleaner. Much cleaner when the Ram beckoned him to follow.
“Cleaning’s important. Everyone here is clean as well. Do not worry about their cleanliness.”
“Ah… Sure. And what should I do?”
“You’ll see.”
It didn’t take long for Meero to see. The moment he entered a parlor, he was welcomed by a sight. Two men were kissing, reclining on a mattress that looked almost clean and new, while they were… Fingering themselves. A Skink and a Capybara, two prey.
Sure, they had a towel below them, but something told Meero he’d been sleeping on one of such mattresses. And he grimaced internally while he was guided, forced to sit on the mattress and… Had Esthor’s presence pressed against his side, warm. Fuzzy, overwhelming.
“Are you a virgin, slowpoke?” asked Esthor, leaning and passing a hand on Meero’s shoulder.
“Well… Hum. No. Or… I was in the back before,” coughed Meero, watching the couple watching him… And yet, smiling as if they were not doing something sexual in front of him, like he was a participant or a voyeur.
“Relax then… This time, you’ll be in charge,” said the Ram, pushing against Meero’s shoulder, pushing him to lie down.
“You ate someone out before?”
The Ram moved with control, though without grace. One missing hand didn’t help. Meanwhile, Meero turned and twisted, went on his belly, and answered.
“I did. Outside. Though people preferred my dick.”
“Augmented dicks are always better,” nodded the Ram, going on all three, with his arm bent below him while his ass was presented and lifted. His little tail was even shaking above, though the position wasn’t comfortable.
Still, Meero admired that orifice. Those hairy buns, those cheeks that were clean and round and muscular. He closed his eyes, smelling the earthy aroma coming from that man’s ass. The flavor that was clean… And then, the feeling when his fingers dug into the muscular flesh.
Those glutes were so tense under his touch, like steel. He pressed on them with his thumb and-
“What are you waiting for, slowpoke? Use your mouth.”
Meero frowned, but he leaned forward. Up close, the smell was evidently stronger. Much like how the Ram’s nuts and genitals were evidently musky. But around the ass, it was different. Another flavor that gave hints of salt and sweat, that tempted the nose and the tongue when… Meero opened his mouth.
He was about to do it with someone else. He’d done it with many men, but rarely would he have cheated. And yet… As he watched that hole, that orifice, something called him.
Horny, excitement, pent-up desires.
His tongue lolled out, catching the hints. And then, his tongue pressed against the hole.
His taste buds caught the musky touch. But the touch itself was much more different; the wrinkles titillated the Dragon’s tongue in a way that was… Novel. Exciting, tempting.
His body shook from the overwhelming feedback while his tongue pressed against the hole… And danced around the wrinkly rim.
“Yeah. That’s how you should do it, Pred boy,” said Esthor.
An encouragement, or a chastising remark. Meero closed his eyes and let himself be guided by the sensation of his tickled tongue. And of the tickled orifice he slobbered on. Saliva was delivered, spit was offered, breath was given. And beneath, the Ram’s body shuddered while the Dragon’s tongue circled and circled, never ending exactly at the same spot, at the same angle, at the same strength.
Sometimes he’d go weaker, sometimes stronger, until the Sphincter was tensing under the pressure. Then, he’d go back to a relaxed approach, while, below, the Ram was a grumbling and drippy mess.
Esthor’s wasn’t hard, but it was possible to pick up the hints of his excitement if you had a fine nose. Adrenaline. Testosterone. A buildup that was ending with his soft cock dripping on the mattress while he had his face pressed against the soft surface.
“Yeah… Dig more. Use your hands.”
Meero looked at that ass, at that meaty posterior. Then down on those legs, his hands, his arms. Then…
He dug.
He planted his hands firmly on those buttcheeks, leaning and weighing against the Ram’s ass while he plunged his muzzle between those buns, practically kissing them.
This time, he was there. In control. It was different. Much different and yet similar. Blood rushed. The scent of antiseptic filled his nose, but the Ram’s flavor was overwhelming. Not soothing, but different enough to pry the Dragon’s mind off the pipework, the blinding light, the rock, the music… The camera.
Even as he closed his eyes, he wasn’t seeing anything. Only the dark, only the night, while he savoured the flavor he was given, and the texture he had the pleasure to explore. A texture that slightly shifted the more he dug and pushed, the more his tongue advanced despite the sphincter clenching back and fighting against the intrusion.
And then… Much to his surprise, the flavor inside was just as musky, with a softer touch… Perhaps sweeter, while the muscles themselves were clean… And pleasant to the touch.
“Dig deeper… I can take it. I am augmented, too,” grumbled Esthor.
Meero peeled back and pressed his thumb against the orifice, forcing it on. And much to his surprise, though the entrance offered a tense resistance at first, the hole itself opened up easily to the finger. Then to two, three, four. The orifice sucked and squeezed back, holding onto the Dragon’s digits, holding him steady and stopping him from pulling his fingers free.
But at the same time, it wasn’t a death grip or anything. It was almost like a caress.
“H-How?”
“That’s… Why we need a good med-tech. Last one reactivated that function. He was… Good!” moaned Esthor, his voice soft.
A voice softer than broke into a powerful moan that filled the room, interrupted the other couple’s discussion when Meero had his entire five fingers slipping inside, and then his palm. He wiggled his fingers, finding the inner walls soft and slightly slippery. But when he pulled his fingers out to sniff them, they had that sweet flavor of artificial lube.
Pleasant to the nose, and with a fine taste, before the man inserted his hand further inside and had the Ram moaning and groaning, head first against the mattress.
“Fuck… yes,” groaned Esthor, his horns rubbing against the surface. “Deeper… More.”
“I have my fist in you.”
“Did… I tell you, you had to stop there?”
Oh… Meero would have blushed. Instead, he was mystified for a second, feeling blood rush to his face and his own excitement building up. He’d… never done this with Ervon. The Green scaled Dragon always refused, saying it needed too much training, too much effort, and all in all, it was a waste of time since he was a natural.
But here, he was only a few minutes in, and he could fist that old Ram like it was nothing.
The constant grip on his hand, the muscles squeezing on his wrist, it was… Something else. It was exhilarating to have that man practically below him, to have that prostate practically under his touch. He could hit and pummel the organ if he so desired.
Instead… The Dragon smiled and had his other hand on the cheeks, breathing down the rim, and he pushed his fist deeper. Steadily, assuredly. But he pushed deeper. And deeper, feeling the tremors shaking the old Ram who’d been calling him slowpoke before.
“How is it?”
“Harder. Damnit. I’ve got reinforced guts! Just stuff me! Croc boy!” roared the Ram!
He roared more when the fist smashed deep inside; the fingers closing while the entrance was stretched, forced, pressed.
Esthor’s little tail wagged while Meero watched the augmented Ram’s testicles pull up.
He was soft, evidently so. But it didn’t stop the Ram’s cock from shooting and splattering cum all over the mattress, making the Ram sigh… And shake his posterior.
“More! Slowpoke!”
“Fuck you,” grumbled Meero, pulling his fist back, almost yanking it out.
With his wrist inserted, Meero could pull on the sphincter, quasi-forcing it into a prolapse unless it had a security, which it was bound to have. And… A second later, Meero punched the Ram’s guts.
Literally.
It was not a fisting, proper. It was brutalizing the man’s guts from inside, no more than sheer punching. Than unleashing his pent-up frustration and anger into the man’s guts.
The Ram roared with pleasure, his belly bulging due to the fist inside, while his cock shot again on the floor, his testicles lifted by the lacing inside.
“Fuck… YEAH! Harder! Fuck me! Use those Pred hands!” shouted Esthor. “Show me what you can do!”
Meero wasn’t done. Not only could he fist, but he could also use his arms. He had the strength, the girth… And a hole that seemingly was capable of taking that brutality. And it showed when, after shoving his fist inside once more… Meero forced his forearm inside. Inch… After an inch. After an inch.
And Esthor wasn’t asking it to stop. Not at all.
No, he groaned. Grumbled. Moaned. Sighed. Gasped.
Meero was practically gone to the elbow and could sense the Ram’s organs had been twisting and adapting to the penetration. Someone else, someone natural, would have stopped before. Beyond the fist, it would be past the pleasure and only a filling.
But the bonus with modded guts was… The modified feedback, the modified sensations.
Meero couldn’t be sure, but he had a hint the man’s asshole, his entire inner walls, were riddled with sensors. And those… They must be like lighting up fireworks inside his asshole.
Esthor came… And came.
He cried, bit, and rubbed his horns against the mattress. His tail wagged. His legs trembled. Even the cloven feet stretched, the keratinous spots clicked together. And… Then he sighed, practically at peace after what was a sixth shot.
By then, the man’s testicles had seemed shrunken, had lost a third of their volume. A volume that’d been spent and spewed on the mattress.
His asshole? It was a crater with Meero still punching those guts with his entire arm. And his elbow was a breath away from tickling the man’s sphincter.
“Pull… Out. Croc boy,” huffed Esthor.
He looked way different, spent.. His fur was caked with sweat, his brows dropping, his breathing ragged. His legs and arm were definitely trembling and quivering as Meero pulled back. Slowly, steadily.
But the more Meero pulled, the more that asshole slurped and suckled on his artificial arm, slowing him down. The more threads of lube joined his muscles to the sphincter before breaking off and spraying the mattress.
And then… It was done.
It was done… The Ram sighed, grinned as he pushed on his arm, lifting his torso while the fingers slipped out of his largely gaping orifice… Which closed almost instantly, though not without squirting on Meero’s chest and lower belly.
“Fuck… That’s why I need that. A good Predator fisting me.”
“You.. Okay? Someone without implants-“
“Would have died? Yeah,” confirmed the Ram, grumbling and rolling lazily on his side, his stump up. “That’s what we like here… Getting roughly fisted by Preds.”
“But… Your implants-“
“They’re partially activated,” huffed Esthor. “The guy who reactivated my lubricant glands and dampers was shipped off months ago.”
“… Crap,” moaned Meero, before looking at the Ram’s belly, flat again. And then his genitals, his cock that was still soft and yet with cum dripping from the barely exposed urethra.
“But… Your cock?”
“Soft?” asked Esthor, rolling again and pushing to sit down before gripping his shaft, giving it a few squeezes and strokes. Indeed, entirely soft. “I am a bottom. And if I paid that cunty med-tech from the women’s districts for this… I would’ve bankrolled that place.”
Meero looked around… Well, that place was not worth much. But… At the same time, the whole environment worked on a different nature of exchange.
“Your turn.”
Meero’s eyes snapped back onto the old Ram, whose index finger pointed at the Dragon.
“Me? Uh… I’m… I’m fine,” said Meero, trying to scoot back. But not fast enough.
No, the Ram had lunged and managed to grip the Dragon’s testicles within his palm before crawling closer with his elbow.
“Fine? Look at that,” said Esthor, giving the balls a firm squeeze.
Meero clenched his teeth, braced, but… No pain, nothing. It was like Esthor was squeezing a massive bag of fluids.
“Your testicular lacing is going wild. You didn’t notice it?”
“I… tried not to,” mumbled Meero, meekly.
“No problem, then. We know how to milk Predators. You’ll help me?”
Esthor directly addressed the other couple, and from their cum shots on their towels, they must have enjoyed the display and themselves.
However, Meero gulped as they nodded and approached.
“Lewi. You’ll give him something to eat. Eyun, with me. We’ll milk him like a bull,” said Esthor.
“Hey… Please. Don’t.”
“We are gentle. Don’t worry. Breathe in.”
But no, Meero shuddered.
He shuddered as he sensed the waft of antiseptic, the tension, the lack of response in his legs. And… Yet, someone stroked his arms, his legs. Even his feet, poking at them, before the Dragon was pushed on his back, with his legs lifted.
His testicles… he wasn’t feeling the squeeze from the testicular lacing but fingers slightly digging into the scrotum, sending shudders through Meero’s lower body.
But it was pleasant.
Much like… Much like the warm breath on his orifice.
Warm. Delicate. Invasive. Intrusive. Meero gulped.
“You never bottomed?” asked the Skink, his scalie hand cold and refreshing against Meero’s face. Yanking him out of that room, out of that place.
“Rarely. I am not… Very much a bottom,” said the Dragon.
“It helps a lot with your focus. Let them do their magic,” said the Skink… Lewi, it seemed, as he sat over Meero’s chest, and lifted his tail to present his posterior. Plump, generous, slightly musky, and the entrance much more open than Esthor’s.
That orifice was smelly, but as it was forced and presented to Meero, his reaction was to open his mouth. And enjoy how the wrinkled entrance tickled his brain in a good way.
In reaction to that presence, saliva dripped from his jaw, and his tongue advanced, prodded, pushed. And found the entrance permissive, welcoming… And not as sweet, but lubricated.
In return… He could sense the fingers digging inside his testicles, giving those delicate orbs the attention and focus they deserved, the pressure that was necessary to squeeze out all that cum stored inside, all those fluids that had been bloating them.
And… That breath, that warm caress upon his orifice. A sultry and tempting caress that became a lukewarm, wet touch.
Meero hissed.
Then, the licking continued, with another lapping. And again until his wrinkled entrance was covered, much like the Skink. And, much like the Skink's, his sphincter eased. It wasn’t opening as easily as for Esthor, or as controlled as when he had his augments online.
But he wasn’t a natural. No, he wasn’t a young lad that was discovering the pleasure of flesh while minding his bones and limbs.
Instead, he was… Given pleasure.
A pleasure in the form of that shapely ass to dig and lick and explore while he had fingers now titillating his entrance.
“Are you good?”
“Maybe… Yes,” answered Meero, his voice slightly slurring.
The finger was deep inside his hole, down to the last knuckle. But it wasn’t painful. It did not burn. It was not making him scream, with his system overwhelmed by erased messages. He eased, his toes curling when a second finger danced upon his lubricated rim.
Second digit, second penetration. Still no pain. No suffering, only peace for the Dragon as he sighed, closed his eyes, and inserted his tongue.
His testicles were lifted, rolled, massaged. Squeezed, tenderly. His cock was soft, but he could sense the fluids coming forth from the old prostatic reflexes, from the artificial precum that was pumped out.
And… A moment later, the Dragon could sense the buzz, the electrifying touch inside his asshole. He huffed, opened his eyes as he knew what it was… And how the Ram had reached it, two fingers.
“Help me stay steady… Good. Now… Let’s try this out, Croc boy.”
The fingers retreated, so went the electrifying touch. For a moment, Meero held his breath. Then, it was three fingers. A fourth. The fifth. The Ram was going in, giving him little time to recover between the shocks going through his prostate.
And finally… Meero huffed and craned his head back, tensing his face against the mattress. And… His toes curled, hurt even.
The five fingers were scraping and touching his prostate, sending him spiraling down the abyss of sheer pleasure and satisfaction. His scrotum clenched, the testicular lacing pulled alongside the hands and… A burst. Stars. Pleasure.
His first cumshot after days, and it was like a veil had been ripped off his thoughts.
The surrounding smell was more intense, so were his arms, his body… He… He closed and opened his hands, bringing them to his face before smacking them on the Skink’s ass. He… Passed his thumb against the scales, finding how his sense of touch was direct. Not slowed, not riddled with phantom sensations.
“He’s feeling it. How is it, Pred? Your thoughts on it?”
“It’s… Much better.”
Then, he grumbled.
With the clarity from that orgasm, something else followed. Not pain, nor suffering. It was solely… The intense clarity of what was happening inside him.
His hole sensations were coming much faster, clearer. And the sensors placed alongside his inner walls, much like Esthor, were lighting up. The more the Ram advanced, the more… Meero’s mind was aware of his entrance, of what he’d ignored about his guts as they were punched and bloated… And then hit by that arm that crushed his prostate.
“Fuck!”
Meero cried when the arm moved in one direction, and his prostate was squeezed. His spine lit up like a tree of the Holy Spirit. Same for his groin, the fireworks started down there as his testicles were again clenching, and another cumshot came.
Clarity, focus, sensitivity. All driving him to an increased pleasure, to a crescendo of satisfaction that wouldn’t stop there. Not on the second orgasm.
His sphincter clenched harder, his abdominal muscles pulled his balls closer… But the Capybara’s hands and the Ram’s fist were enough to send Meero spiraling and crying… And moaning, cumming again… And again.
Each time, the time between each orgasm reduced. Each time, the cumshots grew instead of getting smaller. His asshole clenched with growing strength. His legs tensed. And his whole self, his mind, the feedback from his system, was… Overtaken. Overwhelmed by the orgasms that hit and hit and swept and smashed and crashed.
His cries turned into roars, deafening roars. His shots covered the three preys in cum before…
Before it stopped.
Before the Dragon’s orgasms finally abated after what must have been at least a dozen ejaculations. And even then, it took him eight more for him to stop shooting, for his testicles to return to a normal and manageable size. For them to become sensitive to the faintest squeeze… And for his squirming to stop, his tail to drop dead… to stop his screams.
“That was a milking,” commented the Capybara, laughing and licking himself.
“Still with us, slowpoke?”
“He looks completely gone.”
“Shit. I need him to be ready.”
“I… I’m there.”
The Dragon croaked, but he raised a thumb and smiled stupidly.
It felt like he had been forcefully rebooted, but in a good way. And as his legs were carefully laid down, and the Prey stood up, around… They looked at the mess all around them, on them, and on the Dragon who had assumed the starfish position.
“You liked it, Croc boy?”
“Best… Fisting ever,” said Meero, blinking. “I can die in peace.”
“Who told you you could?”
Meero blinked.
Then, Esthor pointed at the parlor entrance. Many Prey were leaning to see what was inside, and the ambient sound, so prevalent before, had died down. Then… Came the remark.
“You are not done here. You have all of them to satisfy,” chuckled Esthor.
… Meero gulped.
He gulped, yet he watched as the guys entered. A large crowd, but they brought along something. To eat, spirits, and whatnot.
And… What Meero experienced that night was practically a balm to his heart.
Sure, he had his hands, both, used as toys by the Prey.
His fingers were artificial, so he couldn’t get sore from fingering them, so they used him as such. In return, he was fed and given drink. Something like vine toilet that had been cut with juices and sugar to make it more palatable.
Water was given, too, so he could rehydrate. But by the end of the evening, practically every Prey had had his fingers in.
Or had his fist in them. In those libations, he even enjoyed the ludicrous moments of eating his meal off someone’s back while fisting that same guy.
Or drinking while sucking on someone’s nutsack, with someone pouring alcohol on.
In the daze and pleasure, he was even guided to a larger room with two other Preds who were forced to lie down alongside him while many Prey sat on their faces. An ass-eating feast.
That was debauchery, sheer debauchery that culminated in something different from sex. It culminated with all those men, over forty, being squished together in the showers and chanting. Chanting songs they didn’t know, butchering the lyrics of different languages, and each time with someone else starting it.
It was wholesome.
Somehow, Meero regretted not having given in… Or given them a chance before that evening, because as Esthor whispered and guided him to another room, Meero was left alone.
The other Prey were chanting and dancing, and perhaps they’d fuck again. But he was wiping his scales near the entrance, with nothing but the desire to return there.
After the bliss came the afterglow, and the regrets… And the fear, as in one moment, perhaps three hours, he’d forgotten even his duty.