*** 14. Epilogue – The Dome ***
"So what now?" Jinx asked at breakfast. They chewed on protein X, which didn't seem as tasty as usual with their leader gone.
"Will you go back to the Techno Vermin?" Bucket asked.
"Prolly. If King doesn't insist on making me stay in the milking tent all day every day. But last I heard they got two more freaks, so I guess I can get some more time on other jobs around the lair."
Asscunt rubbed his ringed nipples. "I think I'll take a few courses at the Banana Bitches' place."
"Sounds like money well spent," Bucket said. "Maybe I'll join a different trash punk unit. Not a gang, though."
"Any idea what you'll do?"
Bucket shrugged. "There's always work. Scanners are being installed all over Big Bull Den. They want to go full coverage because so many tourists are coming through. And Shrine of Dick is planning a train station."
Asscunt scowled. "I figured you'd join me at the school."
Bucket shrugged. "Maybe. I think with you there, I could give it a try. Rent boys make bottle caps, too."
Fuck You, one week later:
The pain was overwhelming and unbearable but Tyrant's mind couldn't actually register much of it.
His chemically induced horniness wasn't letting him think a single clear thought. Every time he brought the pick axe down onto the cave wall, the vibrations traveled from his caged dick through his abs as if his whole abdomen was turning into an erection.
Whenever he moved his arms, the hot air stroked his ringed nipples like the most talented tongues. He moaned softly with each pickaxe hit all day.
A robot approached him. The red and black humanoid entity attached its hand to his collar and tore him away from the quarrymen crew.
Was he going to harvest in the other cave again? No, he was being led to a new station.
In a small nook were chains running through hooks in floor, ceiling and wall. While his wrists were attached to the chain hanging from above, another robot shoved a thick, deeply rippled dildo into his ass.
Tyrant looked behind him. The dildo's other head was going into another man's ass.
That man turned around, too.
"Tyrant?"
"Legstrong?"
Then the nipple camps came on and the nipple-to-wall chains pulled their faces away from each other.
Tyrant had thought his incurable horniness could overwrite any amount of pain.
After an hour he knew he had thought wrong.
The Techno Stage, two month later:
Jinx was sort of exhausted from the long edging, but after cumming properly, he felt ready to join the pre-opening party.
A hundred guys danced under the starlight sky. No stars were visible, though – drowned out by the neon flashes and sparkles across the Stage.
Jinx passed by a trio of boys who pulled down their jock straps before slipping into a tent. He grabbed the clothes off the floor and threw them onto the pile next to the Stage area entrance.
Was is that hard to clean up after yourself, really?
Over the constant drumming of synthetic beats, Cheater's voice kept shouting as the little boy jumped on a raised platform. Into his microphone he sang "Freak. It. Uuuup! Stick. It. Iiiiin! Wreck. That. Hoooole!" over and over. Much of the crowd had join in.
The beat got to Jinx and he danced his way to the bar. Being one of the only freaks the Techno Vermin had access to, gave him free drinks.
"What can I get you?!" shouted the bartender.
"An energizer," Jinx yelled. "And maybe something that'll keep me hard. I just cummed a lot."
The bartender nodded and opened a Hydro-Cola. He dropped in a red pill from his stash behind the bar and a few drops of something green and gooey.
After shaking the can for a while, he handed it over.
Jinx took his first sip and merged back into the crowd.
The DJ put on a new song, Cheater switched tracks and Jinx joined in with the lyrics.
"Edge Me Up! Lick my asshole. Edge Me Up! Get your tongue in. Edge Me Up! Use your fingers. Edge Me Up! Get my pre-cum. Edge Me Up! Make me horny. Edge Me Up!"
Jinx had helped write this one.
Shrine of Dick, two more month later:
Asscunt carried a banana tattoo between navel and dick root. He was a certified Banana Bitch rent boy with multiple qualifications.
Shrine of Dick had become the center of the province and its nightclubs were frequented quite well.
While he had turned out to be quite a dancer, Bucket had stuck with the massage aspect for the most part. The ice freak had found a fun new application of his power. The sensation of little ice drops along sensitive spots was wildly desired on hot days – meaning every day.
Tonight, Asscunt was the shill.
Swinging himself around on a pole in front of his favorite bar, Asscunt wiggled his hole – exposed through the jock strap – toward potential customers.
The ones passing him now were a bit young, meaning they probably preferred the club one block down where the music was louder and the lights flashed harsher.
He grinned when they stopped, stared and went inside.
Maybe it helped that today was 50% off on aphrodisiacs like the sign said. But hey, his ass and dancing skills probably worked regardless.
An older man slapped his hole. "You dance well, bitch."
"Thanks, sir," Asscunt said.
"Aren't you going to bend over?"
"Sorry, I can't leave my post. If you want to fuck, wait for my break in an hour... oh shit, you're the chief."
Asscunt quickly bent down to kiss the man's dick through the loin cloth. The chief brushed the fabric aside and Asscunt kissed the tool properly.
"That's right," the dick-obsessed man said. "And I recognize you, too. Gang life didn't work out?"
"Not like I had hoped."
"Pity. I had a few more rivals to get rid of. Now, I was after those kids you just led in there. Didn't want to chase them all the way down the block. Well done."
The chief walked past, dropped a few loose bottle caps as a tip and moved into the bar.
Another satisfied customer.
Fuck You, one year later:
Tyrant dropped to his knees, his sweat slick skin sliding in between other prisoners in a row of twenty.
He reached out for the handle far in front and grabbed on. Like the others, he was now stretching forward from a kneeling position with his face down.
Right under him was a dick shaped tube. He pressed himself down on it, his throat sliding along with the help of drool from the previous guy.
Once the tube vibrated, he held his breath and started swallowing. Food shot into his mouth in streams.
There was never much time to talk but Tyrant had confirmed with the other prisoners – especially his best buddy, Legstrong – that there had been a change a month ago. The food was a mush spicier.
Maybe this was connected to how much muscle had been growing lately. After clearly plateauing, Tyrant and his fellow slaves were bulking up. Although, the near constant sweating removed ever resemblance of fat from their bodies.
Not that it mattered. Tyrant would have rubbed off against anyone and anything. His body was one big, super sensitive erogenous zone.
As soon as work was done for the day, the bigger slaves raced for the wrestling pit. Whoever ended up winning was allowed to ride the vibrating stick for a ten minutes.
Tyrant had never won but legend said the sensation was able to cause an orgasm. There was nothing he would not have done for an orgasm. Whenever he moved, whenever he touched someone, whenever he breathed... it felt like being right on the verge of cumming but the orgasm never happened. All day, he fantasized of orgasming again.
On his way to the pit, he passed the tunnel again where he had been working all day. He remembered how, on his first day, it had barely been a nook in the wall. Now he couldn't see the end.
What were the even building?
Never mind, he was at the pit. Who could he pin down? And who should he avoid? Ah, Legstrong joined in. Better stay out of reach of those thighs.
Only the last three on top would get to ride. One day, Tyrant would cum again. Maybe.
Big Bull Den, five years later.
"Thank you so much," Cocksnot said with a huge grin as the tourist pulled out of his ass. "I needed that desperately."
The man had fucked the muscle teen for over two hours, making Cocksnot feel almost satisfied.
Oh right, he had to stop thinking of himself as a "teen" now. He had just aged out of that category.
With cum and lube running down his insanely big legs, the slave made it to the motel room's door. He squatted at the scanner and clenched his hole to keep cum from dripping onto the strip in the ground.
He wiggled his huge, beefy ass back and forth for half a minute before the scanner registered his code-broken ass.
Cocksnot swaggered to the exit, picking up the dick pouch he had dropped on the way in.
While putting on his clothes, he squatted over the motel exit's scanner strip.
A few drops of cum fell from his mighty cheeks.
Once he had logged out, he leaned down and licked the scanner strip clean, his nose ring clanking on the plate.
Outside, it was time for triceps.
Like all Big Bulls in the streets, Cocksnot found the nearest ropes hanging off chains on the wall of a building, and got started on his exercise.
He had fucked through calves and upper pecs. He had to make up for that before dinner.
But a quick snack was always worth a detour.
The slave walked to the great hall, queued up at the nearest trough, waited till the other boys had finished and dug in, slurping protein X – with additives – directly from the holder.
He had to eat a lot because he knew he had been slacking. Even after years of adhering to Alpha's orders, Cocksnot still hadn't fully absorbed the Pump – often preferring anal sex and nipple stim to working out.
It wasn't entirely his fault. He had turned out to be a decent wrestler so the other boys wanted him to join in whenever they battled. He had too many friends to say no to all of them.
Still leaning over the trough, another Big Bull licked Cocksnot's hole.
The slave's eyes watered.
"N-no," he told the rimmer. "I'm already behind schedule."
"Oh sorry," said the other Bull. "I finished my abs early today. Don't let me keep you."
Cocksnot went back to training.
Alpha had said that, unless his work ethic got better, he wouldn't be able to double his weight in time with the plan.
Looking down his huge body, the boy from the past could have sworn he made fantastic progress.
Weird that he had never actually been told what his original and target weighs were.
Fuck You, at the same time:
The tunnel had been completed and its end extended into a new greenhouse. Thick plastic curtains at the entrance trapped heat, beyond Fuck You's usual high temperatures.
Since the lights were now set up, but no robot had yet come by to give them a different task, the dozen workers had piled up on the floor.
Tyrant and Legstrong were somewhere in the middle of the pile and caressed every bit of skin in reach – whether it was theirs or someone else's.
Tyrant had landed on the punishment station twice in a row. His nipples, asshole and everything else were raw. It added massively to the erotic pleasure.
Through his watering eyes, he saw a new face in the endless pile of sweaty muscles. He grabbed the new prisoner by the ears, drew one leg out of the pile to raise it and shoved the newcomer's face into his ass crack.
The unknown prison boy licked up the sweat and dug his tongue in deeply. Tyrant kept wiggling to stay in the middle of the pile. Then tears blurred his vision.
He'd ask the new boy's name some other time.
The Vermin Dome, a little later:
With the fog machine on, Asscunt wasn't actually visible for most of the crowd. But they wouldn't have paid attention anyway.
The party was interrupted for the lottery.
As the DJ quieted the music, everyone in the dome looked toward the stage.
Lions flanked the door to King's room, where the leader-turned-chief emerged with a neon red cape over his shoulders. Two boys in slave collars crawled after him.
King stood in the center of the little platform and took the mic, while one boy crawled under the cape and started rimming.
"Boys and men!" King yelled as the second boy crawled to the front and started sucking his dick. "Hold your tickets ready. The lottery starts... now! Who's number one?"
A man raised his hand. The number 1 was painted on it.
He got a little flask and retreated into the cheering crowd.
"Where's number two?"
Every month's lottery went the same. Twenty man paid a good amount for a bottle each. Five got duds – they spent the rest of the night drugged out of their minds, getting their unresponsive bodies fucked. If they were unlucky, someone had smuggled in a tattoo kit again and they'd wake up with "Looser" written somewhere on their body.
Ten men got a good high. Almost worth the price of a ticket.
Five lucky bastards got to enjoy freak powers for one night. Cleanly processed, safe and short lasting. King's experiments hadn't given anyone permeant powers. He was happy with his business model. It kept customers coming back.
Just to keep things civil, the freak drug was mixed with a few other substances to ensure the winners stayed calm and wanted to party more than to wreak havoc.
Once all tickets had been used up, the party guests with bottles downed them simultaneously.
Bucket joined Asscunt on the platform and they danced against each other, their hard-ons poking out of their thongs.
The music picked up volume again. Tonight's Techno Vermin rapper put on one of Cheaters early hits.
While the first temporary freak's eyes turned black, the crowd joined in with the song. Asscunt shook his body to the beat.
Bucket sang along and Asscunt joined in at the chorus.
"Fuck yeah! Fuck yeah! Fuck yeah! Fuuuuuuck!"
Note: What a journey! I never thought the saga would grow so much but I enjoyed developing their world. I hope you got something out of it, too. Let me know.
I can't stop myself, so there's another story on the way: Trash Punk Phantoms, coming soonish.