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angellurgy2 · 4 months ago

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Hiveship

hii! this is the 1st and 2nd chapter of my new story, as a little show of whats to come when i make it a full-length book.

cw for bug rape but like, its also just an introduction to deeper non/sexual ways the bugs will destroy this girl's soul. you'll see!

i'd appreciate if people checked this out/gassed it up because i've worked reallyyy hard on this for a bit ^-^

CHAPTER 1

A live wire sparks as loretta reaches a gloved claw inside the open electrical box, her digits blunted by her heavily plated and padded, alabaster white cosmonaut suit. she roots around the active electricity, scraping out chunks of the greenish-brown sludge growing in its crevices- the same mysterious viscous slime that’s been popping up in parts across her starship over and over the past few weeks. her theories ranged from an excremetal expulsion of an unidentified space object, to some disgraceful cosmonaut’s trash finding its way into her ship’s vents.

she clicks the button for the analyzing tool of her protective visor, closely examining the fluid. long thin wires splay across all sections of the large junction, leaving burning hot indents in the thick substances that feel like way too much of a fire risk. looking at the wires, spread out in patterned parallels like gigantic spider-webs, an anxious tinge of fear strikes her. don’t fall in, don’t get caught- robots don’t need any more prey. not that you’re prey. you aren’t.

she flicks her visor back off, worried her sweat might fog up the the visor, and continues swiping the rest of the gunk into a bin.

all clean, she fixes the fuses back into place before immediately making her way back over to the equipment corridor to hang up her suit. on the way she passes vibrant posters of mechanical cross-section diagrams, detailed anatomy drawings of every variety of species she could scavenge, and historical propaganda posters. it was a nice splash of existence inside a clinical minimalist coating.

lounging in the cabin suite on her sofa, she flips her state-provided entertainment console to the galactic news. on-screen a suited, pristine looking woman takes the centre stage behind a stretched out desk. her voice is calm and analytical, with a hint of soft sympathy that can’t be hidden no matter how hard of a professional facade they must put on.

“News from the pandora planets have finally reached the internal core, revealing devastating effects of the latest assault campaign from the exoskeletal hives, multiple colonies’ messengers have reported complete razing of ground and sub-ground infrastructure, with several not appearing for the census at all. the URSS military and all commune bioships have retreated back to pantheon-V for rehabitation before a pandora counter-takeover can be attempted.”

Loretta shudders. the exoskeletals have been advancing deeper into URSS territory much faster than ever before, the fact that the state hasn’t been able to put a stop to it—and that the threat has only gotten more aggressive—makes sweat begin to pour down her head. if she was doing a term with the forces or part of a commune science crew she’d probably be worried for her life right now. thankfully, her ship was currently flying safely in one of the middle systems, relaxing in orbit of an abandoned desert world after recently coming back from a call of excursion to the outer worlds. she always enjoyed the quiet of minimal space travel and the utter lack of civilization when she gazed down upon a world, so this has been her favourite spot to reside for a long while. from the cabin module’s glass wall she can see such stark vistas of sandy mountain ranges, demarcating the most beautiful fields of gigantic outstretching spiny cactus.

with a loud buzz the tv automatically switches to the nightly Sallite news segment, where they broadcast the most important of state propaganda to every television set at 8pm local time. with an exasperated sigh she turns the volume all the way down to 1, takes off her grey tank, and throws herself into her cushioney bed. a switch on the wall next to the alloy headboard turns on the room’s surround sound to a soft pitter of forested rainfall, and she falls asleep in a matter of seconds.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Loretta awakes to the foreign sound of a sloppy wriggling near the floor by the end of her bed. jerking upright, she quickly slides into the suit boots she had laid at the side of her bed, strapping them tight, and moves to examine the intruder.

a pulsating green slime slides itself across the floor, leaving a small trail of slightly transparent lime goo behind it. loretta kneels to look at it closer. she could swear it’s looking right back at her- though without any obvious eyes or features of its own. it excretes another loud squelching sound and fires off a copper-smelling mist around it, some of which sprays directly into loretta’s face causing her to wince and tear up at the dense cloud of smell. she reflexively slams her booted heel down into the creature, stomping through its gelatinous body.

she attempts to swiftly scrape the thing off her heel,, but the flattened slime spreads to encase her entire boot before she can even look down at it. when she does, she sees sticky lime green half-translucent goo coating the suit metal like adhesive, excreting a slight burning odour. loretta throws her leg around trying to eject the subject, but only manages to trip over herself, tumbling to the thick panelled floor with a resounding thud.

on her back she watches with wide terrified eyes as the slime continues to slowly expand up her limb. it should be stretching itself out fully by now, but it seems to have an infinite amount of mass to express over her. some kind of anomalous entity from deep space? but how would it have gotten this deep into the middle systems? a new wormhole would’ve been reported immediately, and the nearest systems are all too well-inhabited. the gears turn in her head, clearly rusted over, struggling to think of a potential scientific hypothesis. by the time she breaks out of her clouded monologue and thinks to stop analyzing, the slime has already subsumed her entire left leg, grasping spreading tiny green tendrils grappling for the next part, which is fully uncovered by the comforting protection of the URSS engineer corps. she struggles to force herself away by clawing into the floor, but the slime seems to have extra weight to pin her leg down. such a little creature, overpowering her so easily- it must be alien. she doesn’t stop struggling even if it pins her utterly. if she could just get to the corner and grab her piece she could-

her scrabbling eyes find themselves staring at the cabin’s ceiling vent. a thick bile-like grey sludge seeps down from the cracks, forcing her to hurry. loretta shoves her hand into the green slime against her better judgement, trying to peel it off like one of her mother’s gelatin molds. her hands try to slide underneath it but they find themselves struggling to push against an unmovable solid, far away from the gravyesque consistency it had before. then she feels her legs, or rather, feels the lack of feeling of her legs. when she tries to move them, she cant even muster a shake, lower half pinned to the floor, not even pins or needles remaining. it doesn’t stop her relentless pushing and attempts to pull herself out by her arms, but she might as well be an amputee at this point. like one of those UOA prisoners of war from back in the day, laser neutered to be nothing but working hands for the Authority’s machines.

unable to get away from the oncoming deluge, lorreta realizes it must be relent or die. and so she does, shutting her eyes tight and curling her lips inward together like the anti-parasitites’ studies have taught her. though this wasn’t the typical annalidesque parasite commonly found in the outer cosmos, or a parasite at all for all she knows, it’s the best her dizzy mind can handle. and as she feels the sludge’s drip touch down on her estrogenated skin, it succeeds in helping stop it from flowing inside her eyes. she can feel it coat the skin tight, like a face mask but smelling of wood and suffocating and lively probing at her pores, blocking her vision black with its opaque body.

the sludge now dispensed, loretta senses a chance and attempts to pry the mask off of her. blindly groping for a free spot by her neck and sliding her unkempt nails under it and into the disgusting goo. it feels like a cadaver from anatomy class under her fingers, diving into the fat and peeling away the outer layer. but this corpse has undergone rigor mortis, and loretta’s attempts to peel it off go only slightly better than with the green thing, lifting an inch before it slaps itself back on even tighter. her second attempt goes even worse, her arms starting to feel numb and anaesthetized. she lifts her arms to fight but she cant feel the texture of what she touches anymore, and then the viral limpness travels to the rest of her motor function, and they flop uselessly at her sides. no part of her body responding to her brains frenzied orders to move, the most she can do is flail inside.

she pictures Andromeda-ZE in her mind’s eye, emotionally travelling to the place she spent most her childhood. she’s running through the market, the most well-known place in the capital, excitedly waving at family friends and commune teachers like she’s a kid again, so happy, so free, so ignorant. red and yellow and orange colours shine bright on the market stalls, sand and wood structures stand beautifully tall around her, everything is even more beautiful than it was when she was young. the wind on her cheeks as she runs makes her glow with a safety she doesn’t feel in the atmospheric void in space. not far ahead she spots her unit hut, and ramps up her speed. in a minute of invigorating sprint, she makes it to the large aspen door, knocking 5 times. she hears several light footsteps trot up and bounces with excitement. the door slowly creeps open…

and a hulking nurse bug towers over her. its mandibles chitter, the egg sack on its back wiggles, and its claws rub together in front of its chest. she looks into the creature’s eyes and sees a thousand mirrors staring back at her. she screams muffled into the slime gag, jolting away from the colour behind her eyelids, and back into the void in front of them. instead of trying to push inside like loretta assumed, the sludge begins to creep into the part of her eye socket above her lids, pushing with prying hair-like digits. her heart cramps, and she can feel her heavy perspiration being immediately absorbed by the material the second it drips. she doesn’t want to close her eyes, doesn’t want to see the bugs that close again- the spindling inner legs, the slimey chitin, vision of swarms of exoskeletals charging her squad flash through her, all she wants to do is scream but all it does is wear out the last muscles she can work. but she can’t stop, she wails banshily, reverberating in her own skulll. and then she can’t manage to hold her eyes open any longer.

the jointed arthropod returns, fully subsuming her soul.

“it’s okay, sweet darling Lore, we are here now” it speaks in her mothers voice. sweet and soothing.

CHAPTER 2

loretta wakes up in a stasis vat, her body floating in air like oil. green biofluid drenches her skin, manufactured nutrients flooding her organs, keeping her fed and stable. she smiles, thinking back to her first spacewalk, bounding into the open cosmos with footless steps. she kicks her foot up, sending herself into an airy backflip. her mouth opens on its own and takes in a load of the fluid. it tastes like the earth pineapples her mothers would trade for on her birthdays. she has to figure out what this is when she’s out of here. and by the looks of her motor functions, she’ll be out of this in no time.

* * *

she awakes groggily inside of another vat. there’s no more fluid, but something similar sticks to every inch of her skin. the walls of steel have turned into a coffinesque cocoon, fleshy and aboreal brown and wriggling with her movements. yet as she attempts to push herself backwards, her hands still find themselves scraping cold metal. she sees how some light manages to seep through the cracks of the chitinous chamber, and prods at the squishy folds where the tiny glowing rays strike, poking through an inch or two of foreign flesh before her fingertips feel air. bio vat? or some sort of.. metamorphosis chamber? she can’t remember how she got here, or when she signed up for such a procedure. she needs to find someone before she gets stuck. she lifts her moist lips to one of the little holes and screams out a plea for help. she manages to fit another finger out, and begins trying to spread open the breach when she’s stopped by someone’s cold fingers pulling hers. one of the scientists, or guards?

the person outside pulls on loretta’s hand hard and she feels her light body raise up to the roof of her confines. despite her reaching the walls, they keep going, tugging forcing painful friction between her bare limbs and the meaty hide. in a few short, supernatural pulls she is burst through the sac entirely, getting to see chunks of what appears to be sinew and slime splattering the surroundings as she flies through antigravital space and crashes hard into a familiar wall.

HISSSSSSSTHH

innumerous spindly brown limbs bringing fading memories of phasmid anatomy charts stretch out across the polished floor and walls now brutally scattered with keepsake and furniture debris, looking like abstract blobs in loretta’s slime coated vision. blobs which are constantly being absorbed upwards into the air by twitchy movements. loretta grasps at the wall behind her, pulling herself away from the enormous creature.

slamming into the far wall, she attempts to reach for where her dresser should be, where her trusty sidearm should be awaiting its imminent retrieval. then she remembers the lack of gravity.

it was a stupid idea to make a grav switch so accessible. she never even uses it, and humans are the only creature out in this abyss who are weak to its pull. stupid stupid stupid. she tries to look for it in the debris but can’t make it out through all the other white and grey blobs.

in the room, a few brown splotches stand out, utterly foreign to the ship’s shade-based palette. she stares closer, and even more seem to appear. the black space where the open door leads to dark corriders begins spewing them out en masse until at least two dozen of them scatter across the floors walls and ceiling of the cabin, staring right back into her with beady pinpricked eyes.

a bug pounces, its thin limbs pinning loretta hard. the hair on its tarsi scrape across her bare arms jolting goosebumps up her entire body. its membranal underside presses up close, making her shake with unease as its squishy segmented body rubs against her and coats her with an inky discharge well familiar to her after multiple campaigns.

click, click, click, click. clinking mandibles together, like a hungry and petulant child. antennae rub against her ears, just then noticing their dulling by a xenotic wax substance. yet the vile hissing of a group of specially angered freaks still deafens.

searing pain transports into her flesh. she screams but a sludgey backup in her windpipe stops everything but the vibration. loretta looks down at the thick brown apical claw stuck inches deep in her side. a gaping void begins a slow seeping of crimson. another of the blobs quickly dashes into her view, bursting into definition as it pops up at the wound’s side. the same black liquid that drapes over her skin begins to leak out of its open mouth-thing, mixing and diluting the blood until the cut is naught but a thick black wall subsuming a portion of her outer thigh.

she looks forward again as a twinge of neck pain insults her for forgetting herself, and sees the first roach reaching its body upwards. a yonic hole in its abdomen begins to slowly invert, while a large black tendril reaches out of the now-extremity and fluidly twirls itself around loretta’s leg, dripping ichor all the way.

she’d never gotten this close to one of the breeders before, to the point she didn’t even recognize their exotype until now. as far as she knew, they stayed deep inside the tunneled grounds of the hive worlds, fucking like lagomorphs to appease their queens and ever-outbreed the URSS’s onslaughts. and yet, here they are.

the appendage flicks into loretta’s belly, proding at and pushing inside her navel cavity. it feels almost like she’s being licked by a pet dog, or it would if it wasn’t by a fucking bug. the creature tries to push forward past the inch-deep space and is swiftly yanked back in turn, reaching the end of its rope. loretta sighs. if they can’t even reach her then the worst they could probably do is-

the tentacle prods at a lower place before a concept can reach her nerves. a deserted, forgotten plateau, a space too human for her to accept. sliding over a smooth ravine, wet shocks drive up her legs. coiling atrocity digs into her malleable dirt like the hills in pandora. she screams like she imagines it must. though the terror speaks in soft, writhing texture, and not pain. pandora and i, sister bodies- desecrated in twain.

she turns her head to the room’s one window. beyond the hexagonal plasteel frame, one of the last things held up through the chaos, halcyon skies stretch out for infinity- vistas of beautiful achromatic calm broken only by dots of terrestrial colour. an anaerobic dead zone, where nothing except calm would subsume her. devour her. she yearns to feel that cold blanket take her now. she dreams of the window bursting open, space gaining pressure the glass wasn’t ready for, and ripping them all out with it. she dreams of mom bursting through the door gun in hand. she dreams of simply disappearing from all being.

from above her head slithers another pair of mandible and trio of forceps, digging into her budding chest. a sparse pink miasma sprays across her vision, and she’s stumbled out of her wonder by a furious coughing fit rising in her trachea, and finally taking off some of the adhesive coating her throat alongside it. she tries to look back outside and the claws digging deeper just force her gaze right back. her eyes glaze over with water and, unable to wipe the sleeves away, it drowns her. it fills her mouth until her muscles strain, spread taught like an epithelial fingertrap. she cant help but cough more, painfully clenching on the foreign object sliding deeper inside using her windpipe as a transistor to her weak points.

beige meat squishes up against her face, phantom sensations of a man’s stomach thrusting. it should never have been able to get more evil than that. how did they put human’s cruelty into animals, was it taught? more inches of squishish meat force the thought from her shrouded head. her tears taste like ink. maybe they like it that way.

Lorettas’s hull stretches with fullness and terror. she cant see it, but she can feel it bulging her front extremitously. it feels like the two tendrils will soon meet in the middle. she shudders in fear and feels them swirl inside her as punishment.

she feels a slight relent, and her thoughts finally losing their haze. the creatures in front of her thrust backwards through the air, and the twisting coiling tentacles whorl their way out like a pullcord. again she has to feel the thing climb her hole, leaving a painful space where there used to be nothing, unable to go back to nothing. it is ashamed and sobbing in it’s own. what a bipolar old lady you are, where is your rage?

his voice forces itself inside of her. look what you’ve done. ruined and irreparable. you must’ve loved it. you and your little bug fascination. maybe if you didn’t spend your time with abominations, you wouldn’t have become one.

she screams back. it’s not too late, i don’t love them. he’ll never control me again, i’ve carved so much into the world, i won’t let myself be belittled. you’re smart, they’re miniscule- a surprise assault shows their utter lack of strength. i’ll kill them all if i have to. i’ll prove it, i will.

she tries to open her eyes again and sees, stained by pink clouds floating in her sclera, a huge mutated insectoid towering behind the others. a large dynastinaen horn displays ignorant ideas of its strength above its excitedly quivering mandibles. or perhaps the exoskeletals have no need for concepts of pride or egotism. perhaps hive mentality’s destroyal of the individual will always grant them an advantage. no thought of the victim- evil little creatures. no different than the evil of the Authority. no different than-

two blunt black mandibles thrust into her chest. the wind is crushed from her body before she can realize what’s happening. she is too dazed to look at the impact. her deflated cadaver is thrusted into the air, and carried,

her vision bobs up and down as swift twig limbs drag her forth without thought. station windows fly past her, blobs vaguely looking like her favourite posters lay scattered and sliced in pieces, slime staining them irreparable as it coats the floor. does their cruelty know no limits? was the destruction of her ship and her spirit not enough? the destruction of her people? will anything sway their pure evil? she wants to cry, but she’s already using all the tears her body can muster.

black begins to gorge itself on the halls, the chunky whirring of automatic doors blares in her ears drowning out the chattering sounds of dozens of limbs. the hydraulics were a deeply familiar sound, one she had always cherished hearing. it felt like a reminder of the spacecraft’s life, always interacting to her existence, responding in kind noise whenever loretta’d root around fixing her insides. it was a comforting relationship, wonderful in its unconditionality.

now, her beautiful partner screamed red with anger. they destroyed her entrance too. the airlocks outer seal is burst open with what could fairly be assumed to be anti-ship cannons, if not for the claw marks and acid tainting it all. she looks through the inner seal, into the void where death surely awaits, her body has been so painfully torn and remade, that she can’t make herself put up a single limb to fight at the end. she imagines a blaster in her hand, and clenches its handle tight. then she opens her eyes, and her fingers havent moved an inch.

then her face meets cold surface, jagged. then the green drapes grab onto her skin again. then her blood mixes with the green and turns the colour to the same rust she smelled in the air at the start. then she feels the perfectly held-at-average air of her beloved spaceship turn into cold freezing anguish of the outside. then she feels her body turn to nothing. then, she feels nothing at all.

#puppy writing #uhm #rbs encouraged #i needddd attention chat #but yeah um id appreciate ppl letting me know what they think too!!

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angellurgy2 · 4 months ago

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'SMARTBOY SPECTACLES'

new story! where a deeply indebted trap tries to cheat the house, and is forced to learn his lesson the hard way :)

rape cw

in the middle of a crowded floor, where gamblers and sex fiends bodies writhe against each other in movement from various games of chance, and the air fills with the noise of buzzing golden lights and loud clammoring. Salvage sits politely on top of a plush red stool. out of the corner of his eye he watches curiously as the patrons stream from table to table, while he halfheartedly throws some chips onto his own. the dealer throws him two cards, a 7 of diamonds and a king of hearts. he sighs, definitely not the best, but not the worst. he stands and the dealer deals himself his cards, busting with two face cards and a 3. salvage grins and collects his winnings. he didn’t even really see how many chips he threw in, but he struggles to carry the winnings inside just his two hands with how many there were.

his face warms with glee and he tosses the chips into his shoulderbag - NOT a purse - dashing into a lounge area before he rips off his ZOOM-OMATIC SMARTBOY SPECTACLES 300™. they worked!!! he struggles to not burst into laughter, his cheeks beginning to hurt from his own grin. if only these poor rich snobs knew he was cheating them right under their noses. he can barely believe it worked, but he saw those cards long before they were at the top and no one noticed shit! finally he’ll have a chance to make a dent in his debt- and then he wont have to be trapped in this purgatory anymore!

he uses the short space of privacy here to scruff up the collar of his leather overcoat and tug down the bottoms of his red crop so that it just covers his belly button and pull the crotch of his cargo shorts out of his junk.

he does the soft breathing exercises his therapist taught him the week prior, putting on his (literal) poker face and suavely striding back into the pit. it’s happy hour, so a decent amount of patrons have already poured out of the casino floor and into the nearby bar/lounges by the time he makes it on the scene. the dealers all look relieved to have less on their plate, which usually makes it the best time to play. he slides into another game of 21 and smiles at the dealer, “hey john.” he greets, short and to the point. its good to talk to them, since they all know his deal by now anyway, but too much and he cant be sure he wont let slip something suspicious by accident. he’s good at persuasion, but hiding a secret has never been his strong suit.

winning the next draws are easy. thanks to his SMARTBOY SPECTACLES™ and his better-than-average memory he can win while only half paying attention, giving him plenty of space to ogle all the hotties around him. though he has to make sure he loses every so often to not seem too suspicious. by the time he leaves the table, he feels like he’s won more than he has in months. one day of being a cheat and he’ll already be reaching back into the high life- it feels so good to finally have some assurance.

he mulls over what’s next. blackjack is easy winnings, but its also slow winnings, and worst of all - boring winnings. he spends some time sauntering around the various floors, until he stumbles upon a room where multiple poker games are being played. this is EXACTLY what he needs, more rich assholes to put in their place and more money to take.

he walks in confidently, eyeing up the potential competitors. most tables are full, but a few have a seat or two open. he ends up deciding on a table with one open seat, the rest filled with the crustiest of old men.

“you sure this table’s fit for you, kid?” one retorts. sal scowls. i’m literally 23, come on. the fucking privilege on these fossils.

“yeah, it’s just right.” he grins, sliding in and crossing his arms as he waits for the next round to begin.

despite the wait, he’s grateful to get some time to look up the ‘marks’, and he has to admit, a few of them look pretty damn hot. the rugged, masculine guys sorta faded in with the greyed out wrinkly dissociated guys from afar, but they could be definitely doing so much better than this joint. he’s not even that gay - he always felt a little weird about it, girls are so much easier?? - but he cant help but look when his new specs involuntraily give him a peek at what’s under their shirts.

he’s jolted out of his head by pressure on his shoulders, reminding him exactly where he is, and exactly why he can’t be bothering with physical desires. he nods and throws in the minimum bet and eagerly awaits his cards. an ace and a king, knowing before they reach his hands. the guy next to him, an older man in a dress shirt and tie, looks at his cards briefly and throws in a decent bet. if sal couldnt tell from the expression the man could barely hide, he can tell from the 4 of hearts and 7 of hearts staring right back at him. he raises the bet double.

the rounds go by quick, the bluffing man folds after the river shows a king and a ten, and other two join shortly after. him and 2 other guys get to a pretty tight finish, one of them having a 2 pair and the other having a three of a kind. but sal knows the river will end in his favour. the dealer throws down the last card, raises the bet once more, and wins handedly. he scrapes the chips to his front and gives them all an egotist grin.

one hand down, the rest of theirs to go.

it’s by the 5th game that something comes to stop his reign.

“Sally. Vance wants to see you. now.”

fuck. “cant you see i’m in the middle of something?” hate this asshole. i was just about to finish up here.

“he said now. i wouldnt make him wait.”

“fuck. fuck. fine.”

by the time he arrives back at his usual games, the atrium is crowded almost to full. he loses his sense of time utterly when he’s in play, no clue how long he was at that poker table, but it had to have been decently long if the post-work gamblers have arrived already. he scans over the floor managers looking for Vance. the senior of them all, and the asshole who watched over his debt and servitude. sal thought he wouldn’t have been here on the weekend, thought he’d probably be at home with his whore wife or something- but he thought wrong.

vance leans against the wall like a jock on a lightpole, donning his typical pristine checkered suit and slick black sunglasses. he thinks he’s so cool, just because he has power in this little pocket of space. its honestly pathetic. vances eyes dart up spotting him, and he whistles beckoning sal.

“whatcha been up to today, kid?” stay cool.

he shrugs, manifesting casual. “blackjack and poker, mostly.”

“that it?”

“yeah. been getting pretty lucky today, actually.”

“that so?” vance kicks his leg up, “cause’ i’ve heard you’ve been getting very lucky.”

sal shrugs again and looks away and vance steps closer to close the gap between them. he smells like cigarettes and some shitty strong cologne with a scent probably named something like ‘SPORTS DELUGE’.

“yeah man i just said that-” he stumbles backwards a step, he feels his heart drop in his chest and shouts shame at it in his head. “what gives??”

a heavily silence weighs down the oxygen around them. vance’s breath reeks, but it also overpowers.

he reaches a hand out to salvage’s cheek. sal tries to dodge backwards but vance moves it quick enough to grab his hair in retaliation. hand tight on the bottom of his pony, forced to look him dead in the eyes, right into his own mirrored reflection.

“c’mon sally, you know we don’t take kindly to cheats here-” he lowers his lips to sal’s ear, “you were supposed to be the example of that.”

sal tries to push him but his body is so blocky and his position is so firm that all it does is make an embarrassing thump.

“you want an assault charge too, sally?” the grip on his hair moves down to the back of the neck. he speaks quieter, looking around for prying eyes “i dont think you wanna see what’ll happen if we get that too”

“fuck off vance i’m not fucking cheating-” ringing shoots through his ears alongside a loud pop, red welters his cheek and vance looks down at him with the same happy-yet-still-scowling look as always.

sal can barely see through the blur and daze, and vance takes advantage. grabbing him by the collar and ripping them off the sides and into the middle of the floor, where everyone’s still gambling as if everything is of the ordinary. which it is, of course. who would ever care about what the managers are doing to some random guy? he’s probably just an unruly addict.

vance slams salvage’s back into a golden railing that outlines the table space, coursing pain up through his spinal. he’s never going to get his brains back at this rate. vance grabs his hair again, pulling it taught and shifting his other hand up sal’s side, and grabbing his waist, hard. sal bares his teeth in some sort of stupid attempt at looking confident.

“fuck. you.”

another slap leaves tears dribbling out of his plical and fading down his sweltering cheeks. vance’s filthy boney manhands continue dragging further down, until he’s groping sal’s ass through his shorts, grinning like an egotistical child, stealing another kid’s toys.

“get off me vance i didnt fucking cheat i was just trying to play leave me alone dont do this in front of all these people stop it please man cmon”

vance rips the glasses off of sal’s face.

he gives them a glance over, gaze looking deep into the where the little cameras are hidden. he looks up at sal, grins, and crushes them in his hand. sal almost bursts into tears. he payed so much to get those in his subscription- so deep in debt he had to take a loan out with a DIFFERENT shady entity, but it was supposed to be his one good chance at breaking at all- was supposed to save him.

now his dreams lay shattered at his feet.

he doesn’t even realize his shorts are at his ankles until vance’s hands are groping his taint thorugh his panties.

“fucking trap.” he mutters.

sal starts screaming in his head knowing he can’t make even more of a ruckus here. they’re just comfortable man i’m not a girl they’re just cozier okay god its not gay and so what shut up shut up shut up fuck!!!

two fingers wrap under the waistband, tugging. wait- wait no not here not in front of everyone not “here not here stop please vance don’t do this we can go to your office we can- just not like this please? please.” he can only make himself whimper.

and theyre at his feet too. his little- his dick flops out uselessly as they drop. he immediately notices eyes beginning to stare, some hungrily, some scowling, but none speaking.

“this won’t make the tiniest dent in your debt. but you’re already our property so, who cares right?”

vance grabs sal’s legs and pulls them over his shoulders. sal’s completely suspended now, if he tries to rip himself out or if vance moves too far back he’ll fall and hit his head on the hard wood floor. he looks down and just the foot or two of space between them and the ground is enough to make him lightheaded, terrified.

vance moves forward and spreads sal to the air. he cant look, but he can feel beady eyes staring it down, watching with glee as vance shoves himself inside, shamefully easy.

“do this often, huh girlie?” vance laughs heartily. sal dreams of stabbing a straight razor through his veiny ugly neck, watching the blood spurt out and coat him happily.

“kill yourself.”

sal feels so full, more than he ever has. he hasn’t taken a real dick since, what 2 years ago? back in his college ‘exploration’ phase. he mostly keeps it to the knotted and monster toys now, not that that makes it any less embarrassing as his hole easily and eagerly stretches to fit vance’s huge cock. he has to close his eyes once he sees his own harden in response to his enemy’s thrusts.

“y’know. you should probably talk nicer to the people who decide if you get to live here, or if you get sent to the kennel.”

“what?”

“ ‘wHaT’, do you really think that, the people who own the biggest casino company in the state, wouldn’t have other ‘ventures’?” vance’s smile finally seems to droop. but the thrusts only get harder, only force more pathetic self-hating squeaks out of salvage, choking his words into tattered paper.

“what- are- you- t-a-aalking about”

vance leans in closer, brushing a hand through salvage’s locks falling out of his ponytail. he feels pulsing, heat rising, the tip digging deeper into his guts then hes ever felt, and then hears vance grunting in deplorable satisfaction, voice glowing with pride.

“i’m saying we’re going to sell you, sally.”

#puppy writing #rbs encouraged #whateversss

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