Chapter 7: A Dark Sex Scene That Didn’t Happen

Author's note: Set after Chapter 5. Some dark porn premised on “what if 329 really were here to be consumed.” Gangbang, impending death, dark, angsty, absolutely could not happen in the main story. Can be read as 329’s nightmare.

Translator's note: Shout-out to the Discord folks.

Chapter Text

Unless she brought him here to be consumed.

The restaurant is completely deserted, but she keeps going. Their destination isn’t the spacious dining area, or the labyrinthine corridors. Their destination is deeper, deeper down than that. 329 smells something sickly sweet. The lighting grows dim and sensual. Yet the alpha walks ahead of him with quick light steps, almost hopping, like a rabbit, leading the lost Alice back to her warren.

Of course, this isn’t a children’s story.

They stop in front of a door. It opens: light, sound, and smell assault him. The door divides two world, the outside so empty, the inside so full. The smell of alpha and omega pheromones is so thick it makes him ill. Unconsciously, 329 stops, like a deer in the headlights. But Yasha takes his arm affectionately and pulls him inside.

“That’s it? That’s all you brought?” a youth not much older than Yasha (an alpha, of course it’s an alpha) says, gaze sweeping over 329.

“What? He’s great,” Yasha laughs, unfazed.

“Unusual tastes,” says a twenty-something female alpha, as she caresses the dainty omega draped over her. “What’s so great about him? Durable and long-lasting? Dear, you’re slacking.”

“Hardly! I like him a lot!” says Yasha.

With that, she pushes 329 into the crowd.

And that’s that.

Two betas hose him down, a pair of twins, tall and sturdy and emotionless. 329 is stripped bare, his skin scrubbed red. They shave off his pubic hair and pull him out naked. 329 is shoved onto the floor. When one of the twins grabs his waist, he realizes, these two’s job doesn’t stop at cleaning him up.

They’re the stud horses in this game, not much different from 329, just here for others’ amusement. Their massive cocks swell in their hands, the dimensions formidable. Perhaps their owners gave them some surgical enhancement, to add a little extra pizzazz to the entertainment. A pair of hands seize 329’s shoulders; another grips 329’s waist. Lube-slicked fingers slide into his ass and throat. He gags. The fingers withdraw. A cock fucks into him.

They do it so neatly and efficiently, like greasing up a fleshlight. The foreplay is too brief, the lube too meager. The cock rams into his body like a steel rod. 329 sucks in an agonized breath, but the twins are silent. No one wants to listen to betas moan. They just want to hear the omega in the middle scream.

If they want him to scream, he’d better get screaming.

329 opens his mouth and starts to cry out, his voice juddering with the twins’ movements, at last turning into muffled nasal sounds—the beta in front of him pries open 329’s mouth and stuffs his cock down his throat. They stand up, one grabbing his arms and one grabbing his waist, one fucking his mouth and one fucking his throat, so that 329’s feet leave the ground, with nowhere to give him leverage. Two boiling hot masses of meat thrust into him as hard as they can. He’s squeezed between two walls of flesh. He struggles to breathe.

A pair of hands force apart his ass cheeks, and another pair tips up his chin, exposing the meat-colored mucous membrane to the light. The spotlight shines on 329. The music around him is languid and sensual. This is a public performance. The two cocks pound inside him, flesh slapping against flesh, even managing some sense of rhythm to the beat. In the shadows, someone snickers. The twins’ owner claps his hands. They change positions.

The cock in 329’s throat pulls out, but the one up his ass doesn’t. The beta behind him pulls him upright, but doesn’t let his feet touch the ground. He grips 329’s knees and pulls them apart, spreading his legs as far as they’ll go. This position causes 329 to slide downward, until he’s practically sitting on the beta’s cock. The beta walks forward a few steps, displaying where they’re joined to the countless eyes in the audience. Someone reaches out and touches 329, sharp fingernail digging into the warm membrane. The invasive sensation makes him shiver.

“How boring, he’s grown used to penetration,” they say scornfully. “Just goes to show that virgins are better.”

“Non-virgins have their own perks,” someone else laughs. “If you can’t fill ‘er up, fill ‘er more.”

The other twin walks over, pressing 329 against his brother’s chest. The twin inside 329 also tightens his grip on his legs. They hold him in place like the straps of an electric chair.

329 suddenly realizes what they’re about to do.

The cock inside him doesn’t pull out, but the other twin’s finger forcibly squeezes its way inside. His ass, just beginning to adjust, is stretched once more, full to the point of pain. 329 whimpers, not out of pain so much as fear, for what goes next.

One finger becomes two, stretching at his hole, pulling to create a little space next to the cock it’s wrapped around. A second cock presses against it. He’s being torn at, like a too-small plastic bag. They don’t care whether the bag will split, or how that ring of muscle contracts in terror. The second cock crams inside anyway.

“…!!”

329’s cry is soundless. His mouth is open, but he can’t breathe; even the rise and fall of his chest brings pain. The second cock is inside him. It’s too much, too full, too far. His hole is on fire. He’s torn asunder, pinned. His legs kick helplessly in mid-air, like a frog nailed to a board.

Even if he closes his eyes and holds his breath, time won’t stop. Being filled isn’t the end, but the beginning. Before the crowd grows impatient, the performers continue their show.

329 finally begins to scream.

The twins start moving. Their two cocks stuff 329 so full that any larger movement will cause one to get squeezed out, so they thrust by tiny degrees. 329 trembles with pain. They tear going in and catch going out. His lower body burns with agony. His intestines feel like a half-inverted glove. He doesn’t dare look down. The pain worms deep inside, as if splitting him in two.

The betas’ movements grow faster, harder. His tormented muscle has no strength left to resist, no strength left to protect his ravaged insides. Two long, thick cocks beat at his guts. He’s like a pulped vessel. Blood flows down his thighs, joining the sweat. He’s too full. His belly bulges in one spot, as if something’s thrashing in his abdominal cavity, about to chew its way out. The terrifying sensation of something nudging at his organs makes him sick to his stomach. He dry heaves, but his stomach is empty. 329 shivers amid hunger, but he’s so “full” he wants to vomit.

“For real, you broke him,” someone laughs.

“I think I can still make do,” says someone else. “Let me try.”

Both twins withdraw. A small length of intestine follows them. 329 moans. The one behind 329 is still holding onto him, like a mirror-bearer for the nobility of old. An alpha walks over and thrusts into his helplessly gaping hole.

The cock meets his wounds, pressing against the torn surface. It hurts so much he clenches again and again, almost like he’s pleasuring his violator. The alpha is neatly-dressed, with only his zipper pulled down. He slaps 329’s ass and sighs amid his spasms. “Adequate, I suppose.”

Blood makes for poor lube, greasy-textured when thrusting. The alpha pinches his nipple, yanking hard, using pain as his beast-taming whip. 329 is already doing his best to cooperate, but it’s not enough to satisfy him.

The alpha pulls out of him and takes something from his pocket.

New-style syringes are designed for portability, no long, terrible needle sticking out—the needle’s hidden on the inside. The alpha grabs 329’s hair, sets the little syringe against his neck, and presses.

A sting like a mosquito bite, and the pain suddenly disappears.

His torn passage no longer hurts. His stomach, spasming with hunger, no longer hurts. His bludgeoned abdomen and pinched nipples, likewise. The pain disappears without a trace, while his belly suddenly grows hot. Desire rises in him like a tide, as if he’s been thrown into heat.

No, it is heat.

The drug-induced heat crashes into him, reaching its normal peak within seconds. Too fast. 329 moans, slick mingling with blood as it drips in long silver threads. His waist gives way. His hole opens and closes like a thirsty mouth. If there weren’t anyone to hold his legs in place, he might’ve started rubbing his thighs together.

“He smells so faint even in heat.” The disappointed voice seems to drift in from a great distance. “So Exiles really are like that after surgery.”

“What’s wrong with that?” someone says. “This way…”

329 can no longer make out what they’re saying. His body is scalding, as if running a high fever. His passage is soaked; slick drips down ceaselessly, forming a small puddle on the ground. But no one comes. No one touches him. They gave him too much when he prayed for less, and toss him to one side as he begs for more. Heat should come like the tide, one wave after another, but this time it’s a whirlpool closing over his head, and 329 doesn’t have the strength to struggle.

The emptiness torments him. He wants to be fucked, wants an alpha’s hormones, like he’s in the desert thirsting for an oasis. Every kind of bodily fluid drenches every inch of his skin, sweat, slick, saliva, rectal mucus, even tears. 329 sobs. His vision blurs. He’s trembling all over, wanting uncontrollably to touch himself.

They let go of his hands. He impatiently begins to masturbate. He pumps his cock, thrusts his fingers into his injured hole, but it’s not enough, not nearly enough. The twins let go when directed, tossing 329 onto the ground. An alpha laughs somewhere nearby, saying, “If you want to get fucked, you need to put in more effort.”

Exiles undergo a procedure so that the scent of their heat can’t drive alphas berserk, so the only one descending into a hell of need is 329. He crawls toward the nearest alpha, babbling things along the lines of please fuck me . He sucks his cock. He’s kicked to the ground. At last, he gets what he wants. The pleasure of penetration is as intense as lightning; for a moment, it even splits apart his need, granting him clarity, and an intense disgust at what he’s doing. In the next instant desire enslaves 329 once more. He moans loudly, his toes curling in pleasure.

All his nerves seem concentrated in his groin. Amid spine-melting pleasure, he jerks himself off, until his hand is once again pinned in place. The alpha laughs in satisfaction, ordering him wag your ass . He does it. It’s a hard challenge, when his lower body feels anesthetized. His legs are wobbly with pleasure; he even struggles to stay on all fours, when sweat slicks his knees. The alpha grows impatient at his clumsy movements. He grabs 329’s waist and starts to thrust violently.

The alpha fucks straight into his reproductive cavity, plunging through the passage made plush and loose by heat, fucking straight to his cervix. 329 shrieks. The sensation is so powerful it’s terrifying, as if his organs are being caressed, and yet it feels so good, it shouldn’t feel this good. When the alpha’s knot begins to swell, his whole body convulses.

The swelling knot presses against his prostate. Orgasm slams into him, tears him down, destroying any capacity for thought. 329 can’t even close his mouth. He drools uncontrollably. His eyes roll back in his head. His body goes slack after it goes rigid, sliding to the floor, like a puddle of soft clay. The alpha moves back, and he’s pulled back with him, like a dog being mated on the street. Whether because the position is wrong or because 329’s produced too much slick, the alpha’s cock pops out of him.

In the shadows, the audience roars with laughter. The alpha’s humiliation enrages him. He sticks a needle into 329 a second time.

The world fades to white in an instant. He can’t hear anything; he can’t tell if he screams. A tide of pleasure like nothing he’s felt pulls him in, tosses him up, then slams him apart against the sea bottom. His brain is melting, as if all that’s left in his body is his intestines and his genitals, as if the person is only an accessory to sex. 329 wants to be fucked, he wants to be fucked straight into the womb, to be torn, to be fucked into pulp. Nothing else matters. Only a tiny piece of him stubbornly resists, curled up in one corner of his consciousness, full of horror.

There’s another omega here, one who’d come here before him. She lies on the floor not far from him, facing the ceiling, unmoving, like a dead fish. Her chest isn’t moving, or maybe it’s just moving too faintly, please let it just be moving too faintly.

329 loses track of minutes, or maybe tens of minutes, hours. People come inside him, but the heat won’t go away. He cries out until his lungs are wrung dry, until his throat can’t make sound. Too far, too much. 329 barely struggles free of the haze, scrambles behind the sofa on all fours. His betters laugh, as if watching an ant flee. He’s pulled out by the ankles. Someone takes advantage of the momentum to ram straight into his body, cock smoothly thrusting in to the hilt. The scalding hot rod presses against his innermost depths. It’s like stepping on a pressure point, instantly crumbling all of 329’s resistance. He trembles, unconsciously lifting his hips, like a cat in heat. That’s what he is, in truth.

Stop , he thinks, full of fear. No, don’t, save me. His overburdened heart hammers madly in his chest. 329’s terrified, terrified that he’s going to die here. But who can tell? Who’d believe it? The omega’s wet like he’s pissed himself. He’s flushed all over, his ass fluttering; he responds eagerly to whoever comes to fuck him. “Insatiable whore,” they say.

The crowd’s focus finally shifts from him. A new toy has arrived. 329 can finally crawl offstage—his entire lower body is numb, he can’t stand at all—toward the girl on the sofa. Yasha sits there, eating fruit with a toothpick. She brought him to this hell, but she’s also the only one 329 knows here. They talked before. She said she liked him.

Please, please, save me , he says. Don’t let them kill me…

No sound comes out. He’s too dehydrated. He’s completely lost his voice.

The young alpha eats her fruit, picking up chunks with a toothpick. She regards at 329 patiently, as if interested in knowing what he’s saying. But at this point, another alpha walks over and puts her hand on 329’s shoulder. She looks at 329 and politely asks if she can borrow him for a moment. She sounds like she’s asking whether she can take one of the fruit platters in front of her.

“Go ahead!” laughs Yasha. “Have fun.”

He’s going to die here.