Chapter 6: Weird Things
The Rockhard Punks were still recovering from the Party, so Spit had nothing to do for the day.
Luckily, while still in Stone Burrow, he ran into another local punk leader.
The boy had a mean looking face, contrasting with the soft pink, fluffy mohawk. He was shorter than his three members, but he had to be the leader, since the others were slaves.
All four wore black harnesses, leather jockstraps and sandals. The slaves had their collars and certainly also dick cages. Those three's heads were shaved.
The groups outfit was completed by nipple rings with dangly jewels.
The pink haired boy was only watching as the others took hexagonal glass plates from a container.
"Yo," Spit said to the small guy. "My punk team is kinda shattered for the day. Need a hand?"
The leader narrowed his eyes. "Maybe... I'm C. I think I've seen you around."
"Yeah, I live in Apex. I'm Spit."
"And your names means what it should?"
Spit simply dropped to his knees with an open mouth in front of the young slaveholder.
C leaned forward and snotted with each nostril before delivering a throaty glob of saliva. Spit's loincloth tented instantly.
"We're building a farm," C said. "Grab some girders and put them on the buggy outside the gate. Don't grab too much weight, though. You need to go up and down at the scanner."
Spit grinned and pointed at his pure black eyes. "I don't think that'll be a problem."
He carried two girders and his ghost twin let three more hover by his side. C was suitable impressed.
The punk leader never introduced his slave trio. Their names were conveniently tattooed on the back of their heads – Footbitch, Dickbitch and Assbitch.
The slaves' backs were presumably rented out by C, since they had different advertisements tattooed there, one of which was for Fuck-o-Drome. Spit hadn't known Zee liked to advertise on other's slaves, too.
Farm G2-77h was not more than a few slabs of concrete so far.
Workers with equipment assembled the SparkSteel walls where power lines and such were already integrated.
The trash punks' job was putting together the three glass houses and the irrigation system for the outdoor fields.
Spit's phantom held hexagon plates in place while the hunk bolted them together, always keeping a close eye on his second self. Fortunately the mysterious being cooperated without the slightest twitch.
As the midday sun heated the land, construction workers and punks retreated into a tent for lunch. The solar plane above them shielded from the heat as they huddled together for some Protein X bars and a tube of fruit pulp.
While the workers lazily jerked off, Spit had his ghost blow him, half asleep in the warm, stuffy air.
C sat down next to him and pulled his jockstrap off.
The slaves didn't wait for orders. Footbitch licked between C's toes while untying his master's sandals. Dickbitch predictably licked along the hardening shaft, while Assbitch rimmed between C's spread legs.
"You're fast," C said to the hunk. "We can move onto the roof of the first greenhouse today. Good job."
"Thanks, bro." Spit crossed his arms behind his neck. "It has advantages being a freak."
Just as he had spoken, he had made his ghost twin turn around and ride his dick with the invisible ass. C watched in mild awe as the tool appeared to milk itself.
"I don't think," C said with a grin, "I can convince you to join my team properly, huh? I could use one bitch for each foot."
Spit chuckled. "Not likely."
A worker scooted closer to the hunk and said, "Yo, can I lick your sweat?"
Spit shrugged. "Sure."
The rest of the break hour was spent getting his pits licked and sloppily making out with two workers and C. He eventually cummed onto his abs, which the punk leader had cleaned up by Dickbitch.
One of the seed barrels needed for the new farm was prepared by a farmer from Apex, so Spit offered to bring it with him the next day.
At the gate to the outside, Oh was arguing with a purple haired, buff man in a jockstrap, who kept waving his bag in the guard's face.
Spit walked up to the couple and sat his barrel down.
"I totally paid," yelled the stranger.
"Just let me have a look," Oh said, calmly.
"No need. I paid for everything in there."
"Just a quick-"
"Fuck off, I want to leave," the man said and shoved Oh away with the bag.
"The club owner let me know that a few cans-"
"Fuck off, I said." The man now shoved with his palms. "I bought those in a different town."
Oh grabbed the bag. "I can feel they're still cool. How could they-"
The man tore his bag away and turned to run.
Spit ordered his ghost to rush forward and pull the fleeing thief back. His power creature grabbed the jockstrap which snapped and fell off.
The man was staggered for a second, covering his crotch with his bag.
Oh used the moment to flip the gate lever.
Seeing the gate close, the man ran forward but Spit was ready, his ghost digging two fingers into the man's hole and forming a hook.
Panicked, the thief looked back and spotted the freak. "Le-let me go, you fucking bastard. I'll just drop the damn cans and-"
In that moment chief K reached the scene.
"Good job," K said and collected the bag. He took a look inside. "Seems to be exactly what's missing from Zee's bar. Crisp, take this guy to the club. He'll have to work off his dept."
The massive Big Bull swaggered into view and took hold of the thief by his mohawk, dragging him along.
While Oh reopened the gate, Spit dismissed his ghost and stared after Crisp's huge, bouncing butt at the center of the hourglass shape.
"Good job," K said again, quietly. "I'm glad you stick to the area. The town works without you, which is more than I expected but it's good to have you here every now and then."
"Thanks, dad." Spit opened his mouth, knelt down and received a slow stream of drool.
After letting his mouth fill for a minute and swallowing it all, he asked, "How's Crisp doing?"
"Much better than I had anticipated. If anything I'm starting to feel like his right hand. Haha. Got to piss?"
Spit stood up and the two men walked to the trench along the side of the road. They aimed nearly straight down and crossed streams to let the warm liquid spray onto their legs.
"How's trash punking going for you?"
Spit sighed. "I'm seeing a lot of the world around me that I never knew existed. I just hoped I wouldn't feel so restless anymore. I keep switching teams cause I can't seem to stick to one."
K grunted. "You're always welcome to return home."
As Spit stepped away from the drain, his last few drops simply running down his thighs, one of Zee's slaves jogged by.
The slave had to wear a dick pouch outside, but it was obvious the boy came from the Fuck-o-Drome, since he had the club's ad on his back. Underneath was his name.
"Yo," Spit said. "You're the new one, Fuck Five."
Fuck Five took the bag of stolen cans off K. "Yes sir, anything I can do for you before bringing this back to Zee?"
"Nah but... Do you think you're lucky to be Fuck Five or would you have rather gone with the other eleven?"
Fuck Five laughed. "Are you kidding? I couldn't be happier. I had a Bubble & Butt agent request me but Zee said I'd be his new slave if I don't get scouted so... I botched the audition on purpose."
"Wait, really?"
"I didn't want to be scouted anymore, I just like running the club. But most of all, we're in love."
Spit raised his brows. "You and one of the other Fucks are an item?"
"Nope. Me and Zee. He's so... uncompromising and in charge. He's the man of my dreams."
"Does he know you feel this way?"
"Of course. He promised to always care for me."
"But like... care in a slave way, right?"
Fuck Five shrugged. "I'm just happy I found the man I want to spend my life with."
Spit just nodded. Did kids these days even know there were other way to have a relationship than getting enslaved? He wondered how easily he could get a few little twinks collared by being nice to them for five minutes.
Spit couldn't stop laughing. If it wasn't for his ghost twin he wouldn't have managed to move any girders at all.
"Please... tell me more," he huffed.
C stuck two pipes together and continued. "Assbitch was the second one I picked up. It was even easier. I mean, freshly hatched kids normally get a year or so on Cypher Island to get familiar with life and stuff."
"Sure."
"But the ones created by the smaller branches of Big Daddy in the arcologies are sometimes thrown onto the streets right away. I know a few guys who pick their boyfriends from those batches and usually those relationships work for life. Knowing someone from day one is powerful, you know?"
"And Assbitch was one of those?" Spit asked, back in control of his laughter.
"Yeah," C said. "I picked him off when he left the lab, first thing. Had him rim my ass. Wow, he had no fucking idea what he was doing but we had fun. I bought him a strong high and told him how perfect he was and how well he'd fit into the team."
"Wow, you were laying it on thick."
C shrugged. "In hindsight, I was right though. He's exactly what I wanted and he fits in just right. Honestly, most days I don't make a distinction between the three of them. They know what to do."
"And what about Footbitch?"
"Funny story, that one. He just offered, after hanging out with us for a few days. I think I hit all his spots, you know?"
Shoving a bolt into the mounting, Spit hummed. "There's a guy, Crisp... I think I'd be his slave if he was drooling a lot and I'd get to lick it off him. Although... seems like a really big step."
C wiped sweat from his forehead. "Try being a thrall. It's the hot new thing and over after a year. Or however long you sign up for."
A buggy arrived, bringing the farm's water tank. Spit's power would be needed to install the humongous thing.
Spit woke up when the sky was just brightening in preparation for the sunrise.
Something was very wrong.
His ghost stood above him, not just looking at the horizon but pointing. Even though the being was invisible, the gesture was clear to Spit's freak senses.
When the ghost took a step away, the hunk dismissed it. But the ghost stepped right out of the lying Spit again and pointed – more urgently.
Slipping back into his loincloth, Spit looked over the other workers and punks. Everyone was still asleep.
He made a decision.
Five minutes later, he was leaving the road, no longer able to follow his second self without straying from the beaten path.
He had never been completely alone before. Once the farm was out of sight, he felt too uncertain to keep going. Better to turn around and...
In the distance, he saw a man in the high grass, walking the same way but occasionally stopping.
Spit rushed farther away from the construction site and caught up to find a totally nude Eff.
"Yo Eff, what are you doing here? Power acting up?"
Eff jolted in surprise. "Woah. Yo, I couldn't wait anymore to find out what's drawing out my force fields. They always go in this direction."
They quickly confirmed that both their freak powers wanted to go the same way.
"Where's your clothing?"
Eff gestured behind him. "I thought I'd only follow this weird draw to the Dreck Hole entrance, but then I was already outside and too lazy to go back and... yo, is there another guy over there?"
Someone moved parallel to them in the high grass.
The duo kept marching a course between their original target and the third person in the meadow.
After a while, they were spotted and the unknown boy approached. He was a teen with a buzzed, red mohawk and a simple hip scarf. He had the emblem of a nearby village on his cheek and a flurry of tattoos across his upper chest.
Most tellingly, his eyes were pure black.
"Yo," Spit said. "You can feel the pull, too?"
The third freak nodded and reached out. A small flame ring appeared around his thumb, flickering toward their power's target – almost against the breeze.
Spit, Eff and the boy who called himself Jug continued their way as the sun rose to their side.
After a good while of marching, the target became clear. They even tried to steer to the side to make sure they weren't actually aiming for something behind it but, no, clearly their powers wanted them to go to one place – the Ballbuster gang's lair.
Join us next time for the thrilling conclusion.
Chapter 7: Ballbusting