Retribution

Because death's too fucking good for him…

Something cold and wet sprinkled his face.
      "Uhhhhh…"
      The pain oozing through his body was centred on his head, made it difficult to think. What the fuck had happened?
      He tried to frown, his eyes still closed. The little bitch had escaped again. He and Lander had been sent to track her down. He'd found her, hiding in this alley and decided he had time for a quick fuck before dragging her back. He'd shoved her down, hand on the back of her head pushing her face into the rotting debris on the ground, the other hauling her ass up by her tail and slamming into her…
      … then something had hit him across the back of the head. He'd been knocked out immediately.
      Fuck it! She'd got away again. He growled to himself: he'd take it out of her hide, later. Her cunt, rather…
      He belatedly realised he was still lying where he'd fallen, cock hanging limply out of his fly. He groaned and moved his hands to his groin…
      "Oh, don't do that. We're enjoying the view."
      He froze, coming to instant alertness, reaching for his knife as he opened his eyes. Large hands grabbed his wrists and pulled them above his head, rolling him onto his back in the mud: more gripped his ankles, pulling his legs apart and preventing him from kicking out. He twisted, struggling hard, but unable to pull free.
      "What the fuck? Do you know who I am?"
      The tall, backlit figure standing over him chuckled.
      "Am I supposed to?"
      "Only the best fuckin' tracker in the business!"
      "Is that so?"
      "Yeah. Now get your mother-fuckin' hands off me you cock-suckers…"
      "Cock-suckers, eh? Now that gives me an idea… You got a dirty mouth on you, son. Needs a good washing out…"
      His hands went to his groin as knees pulled in to Jackson's face, holding him immobile as big fingers pinched his nose, forcing his mouth open so he could breathe…
      Seconds later a stream of urine hit his face, stinging in his eyes and filling his mouth. Outraged, he gurgled and tried to spit, but a sharp tap to his balls made him gasp involuntarily, swallowing the piss and almost immediately gagging on the stinking liquid. The others laughed.
      "Yeah, that'll clean his mouth out real good. Anyone else want a go?"
      "Hell yeah!"
      Jackson closed his eyes as one by one three others pissed in his mouth.
      This could not be happening to him! It couldn't! It was just a bad dream. Yeah, that was it, just a dream. He'd wake up in a minute…
      He was dragged up to his knees, his wrists and ankles still held tightly as his head fell forwards, urine dribbling from his mouth as he tried to vomit, failing as ever. A hand gripped his hair and pulled his head up.
      "I guess we take him back to Hoss, don't y'think?"
      A chorus of assenting grunts greeted the voice, and Jackson was yanked to his feet and thrown over a broad shoulder. He managed one good kick before the beefy man holding him threw him back to the ground and ripped his clothing from him, using the shredded cloth to tie his wrists and ankles together. That task completed he caught Jackson's chin bruisingly in one hand and leered.
      "Try that again and I'll take off your dick with my teeth."
      His eyes drawn automatically to the large mouth above him, Jackson shivered. Each tooth had been filed to a sharp point, and the edges modified, razor sharp and glinting in the faint light. He swallowed, then grimaced at the taste in his mouth. The big man grinned.
      "Understand?"
      Jackson nodded, closing his eyes as he was dragged upright by his hair and thrown back over his captor's shoulder.

It was a nightmare journey. There were seven of them altogether, and they insisted on… touching him as they walked. Hard, strong fingers pinched his buttocks, wormed their way between his thighs to prod and squeeze his balls and cock, and - worst of all - roughly explored the area around his anus…
      He had no idea how long the trip lasted, but they finally seemed to have reached their objective; the entrance to a system of tunnels. Following the torturous, branching corridors, occasionally climbing up or down steps, it seems like hours before they finally came out into a cool, brightly lit room. Here Jackson was tossed down onto the floor and could finally get a look at his captors.
      They were not an encouraging sight. All of them seemed to have had some sort of anatomical modification, though whether willingly or because the original limbs had been lost wasn't clear: one had metal claws instead of hands, another had strange large eyes like an octopus, yet another was missing his nose.
      All of them were brutally ugly.
      Jackson's heart sank. There would be no appealing to better natures here. Perhaps he could buy his way out?
      "Look, I have money - hgn…"
      The clawed man had kicked him in the mouth. He gasped, spitting out a tooth and a mouthful of blood. Noseless crouched and stroked a hand down his chest, tickling the hair at his groin.
      "Money's no use to us. Now, unless you want to lose some more teeth, shut the fuck up. Hoss will decide what to do with you."
      There was a stir amongst the men, who straightened up respectfully as their eyes went to something outside Jackson's range of vision. There was a strange sound - a low, snuffling snort - and the sound of… hooves?... clacking on the concrete floor. A shadow fell over Jackson, who peered up to see what it was…
      He paled. He knew these creatures - a handful of them had been made for rich female clients before it was found that they were simply too big and too dangerous to be allowed to live. Most of them had been destroyed - he'd had a hand in that - but two had escaped. This was obviously one of them.
      The creature raised a hand - a human hand, he saw, unlike the fleshy divided hooves given to their later, smaller and much weaker modified cousins - and he was dragged upright again. Staring up into the creature's face.
      He had to be at least seven feet tall, and apparently modelled on a fucking carthorse! Legs like the rear legs of a horse, heavy black tail flicking back and forth, thick mane running down his back, equine ears twitching - even his face was vaguely horse-like. And he was, literally, hung like a horse, Jackson saw with a twinge of envy. That had to be the biggest dick he'd ever seen, bigger around than a wine bottle and at least a foot long, bobbing gently against massive, pendulous balls…
      Noseless stepped forwards, bowing his head briefly.
      "Says he's a tracker, Hoss. We thought you'd like to see him."
      The big head inclined, studying Jackson with the ghost of a smile. He nodded, and reached for a pad of paper and a stylus.
      Jackson swallowed. That, of course, was why today's full-modifieds had unusable fingers. The techs may take away their power of speech when they modified tongues and vocal chords - but that wouldn't stop the animals writing.
      Noseless took the piece of paper Hoss held out to him, grinning evilly when he read what was written there. He smirked at Jackson.
      "Seems Hoss here knows of you. Seems you were responsible for the capture and murder of his brother. How many other mods have you tracked down and sold back into slavery? Plenty, I bet. Well guess what, normal? That makes Hoss very unhappy. He's given you to us to play with. And when we've had our fun, he'll fuck you himself." He giggled as Jackson's horrified glance flickered to the horse-man's groin. "He'll enjoy it too. Y'see, his mistress chose him because even as a normal he had a big dick, and she really liked big dicks. But she missed out on one tiny little detail - he don't like females."
      "He'll kill me. And my partner will hunt you all down."
      Claws laughed.
      "Nah, he won't kill you. Mess you up inside, yeah, but nothing the medics won't be able to fix. If they get to you in time. If not," he shrugged, "well, I guess that'll be one less fuckin' tracker to give us hassle…"
      "And your partner'll never find you. We'll be moving on in a week or three. If you die, we'll dump you somewhere so deep you'll never be found. If you live, we'll take you with us. We can always use a toy." Noseless paused and took the message Hoss was holding out, scanning it quickly then nodding.
      "Good thinking boss. Jed, heat up the barbecue. Mason, warm up them claws." He grinned at Jackson. "Can't have you causing any trouble now, can we? Sorry it'll be a bit crude but as you can see, there's no medics here…"
      The one he'd called Mason came closer, claws glinting ominously. At a gesture from Noseless, those holding Jackson pushed him to his knees and held him still, forcing his mouth open again, clamping his nose closed. As Mason gripped the tracker's left front tooth in those metal pincers, Noseless smirked.
      "Nothing personal. We just don't want you trying to bite when we're fucking your mouth, now, do we?"
      Jackson screamed as Mason twisted and pulled the tooth out by the root, then reached for the next. By the time he'd wrenched out all of Jackson's teeth the man was only semi-conscious, and they were forced to drag him over to some sort of cooking device, a shallow bowl filled with red-hot blocks. Jed - the one with the shark teeth - grinned as he hefted a large and terrifyingly sharp cleaver.
      "All ready…"
      Hoss himself held Jackson still: Noseless pulled the tracker's arms out straight for the cleaver as Jed calmly sliced off both of Jackson's hands, shoving the gouting stumps deeply into the cauterising flames of the barbecue.
      But Jackson wasn't aware of that. He'd passed out as the cleaver amputated the first hand…

He woke to pain. His mouth was filled with blood, his gums still bleeding sluggishly, and it wasn't until he lifted a hand to explore the damage that he fully realised what had been done to him. He stared at the blackened, wizened knobs on the ends of his arms and screamed until a heavy hand across his face nearly had him fainting again from the fresh agony. Noseless frowned at him.
      "Fucking shut up. Hoss is resting, and his hearing's pretty acute. You wake him up and trust me, you'll regret it."
      Jackson stared up at him, tears trickling helplessly down his swollen face. Noseless grinned.
      "Better. Now, you hungry?"
      The tracker shook his head carefully, trying not to jar the injured flesh. Even if he hadn't felt sick he wouldn't have been able to eat - his mouth was a throbbing mass of pain. Noseless pursed his lips.
      "OK. In that case, the lads want a first taste of you." He giggled. "Actually, that should be, want to give you a first taste of them…"
      And the nightmare started…

Two hours later, after they'd all taken it in turns fucking his throat, they finally let the semi-conscious tracker rest, curled up on the cold floor. Through the haze of pain he watched them eat until Jed approached, a plate of some sort of meat, cut into small chunks, in his hands, and crouched down by Jackson's head.
      "You better eat, normal. You need to keep your strength up. You gonna be our bitch after dinner."
      Jackson gazed up at him helplessly. Jed grinned and put the plate down by his head.
      "Suit yourself. But there ain't anything else until tomorrow noon."
      And, because regardless of where he was and what had been done to him the urge to survive was too strong, the tracker rested on his elbows and lowered his face to the plate, using his tongue and lips to pull scraps into his mouth, forcing himself to swallow. Mason glowered and called across to his colleague.
      "Too fucking civilised! Bitches should eat off the floor."
      Jed frowned, considering it, then nodded.
      "He's right, you know." He unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock. "But let's make it a little - tastier for you…"
      Jackson watched horrified as the mod pissed onto the plate, then upended the contents into a stinking pool on the floor. Gales of laughter came from the group at the rough table.
      "That's showed him!"
      Jed grinned as the tracker pulled back from the puddle, then glanced back at comrades.
      "Aww, looks like he's had enough to eat. How about you?"
      A chorus of clattering cutlery and scraping chairs was the answer - but before they could start the sharp sound of a hoof stamping on the concrete floor made them pause. Hoss handed another message to Noseless, who chuckled.
      "Oh yes!"
      Trembling, Jackson watched him pull a small case from under a rough bed and bring it close, opening it and glancing from the tracker's groin to whatever was inside and back again. Finally he grinned and pulled a long metal cylinder, about half an inch across and lightly studded, from the case.
      "I think this'll do. To start with. We can increase the size later. Kurt, Jed, hold him still…"
      And Noseless took Jackson's penis almost gently in his hand, forcing the metal cylinder into the slit at the head and slowly pushing it up the tracker's urethra.
      Jackson screamed and folded over on himself - it felt like his dick was being split apart. Moments later he screamed more loudly as a thick cock shoved past the clenched muscle of his anus and forced its way into his rectum…
      Jed came quickly and pulled out sharply, relinquishing his place to Mason and shifting around to Jackson's head. He grinned at the sobbing breaths the tracker was struggling to draw - then grabbed the hair on the top of his head, sticking a filthy finger between his lips.
      "I enjoyed that. Now you're going to suck me hard again so I can enjoy it some more…"
      Jackson stared at the shit-streaked limp cock in front of his face. He couldn't. He just couldn't…
      Jed pinched his nostrils closed. He had no choice.

He was almost in shock by the time they'd finished for the night. Noseless strapped a collar around his neck, attaching a solid metal chain to a heavy metal bolt sunk into the floor, patting his head almost affectionately.
      "Good bitch. You'll last us a nice looong time…"

They left the urethral plug in place that night, and each subsequent night, gradually increasing the size of the cylinder until they'd stretched him wide enough to take three fingers. Mason had suggested fucking the hole, but - fortunately for Jackson - they were all too big. Which didn't stop them amusing themselves shoving other things into the pulsing, bleeding channel. They spent a whole day in competition, seeing who could come up with the most interesting effect: Mason won, shoving a candle to the hilt in the tracker's cock and lighting it, holding Jackson still as he tried to squirm, screaming as hot wax trickled down his dick...

And they fucked him. Mouth, ass, two or three at a time, any time they felt the urge. They left him chained up - he had to piss and shit squatting at the furthest extent of his leash, unable to do anything for himself without hands. He ate from the floor, finally not caring what was on or in the food, reduced to less than animal and simply intent on surviving. And throughout it all one thought burned - this was all her fault. If she'd done as she was supposed to do, let herself be caged, be fucked, be used like the little slut she was, he wouldn't be here now…

Two weeks after his capture - though he wasn't to find that out until much later - one of Hoss's 'agents' made her way to the underground camp with news that the tracker's partner was closing in. Hoss had regarded Jackson coolly, debating whether to take him with them. The tracker was a fucking mess, skinny, soiled, coated with his own filth and others', handless, scarred and brutalised.
      They could do better. Easy enough to find another bastard like him.
      Jackson watched them, dully, as they packed up, no longer caring whether they would take him with them or not. As they shouldered their packs, Hoss glanced in his direction.
      Long, horse-like lips pulled back into a leer. He clicked his fingers, and Jed and Noseless hastened to drag Jackson upright and shove him facefirst over a chair back.
      And he screamed, plumbing new depths of pain as that massive cock plunged into him, rupturing organs, tearing flesh, burning his guts with gush after gush of hot acidic come…
      Hoss wrenched out and gripped the tracker's hair, pulling the fainting, bleeding normal around to face him.
      It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. But it had been a little retribution for the agony humanity had forced upon his kind. Maybe his partner would find him, maybe not. It didn't really matter.
      He'd have to live with, suffer, what they'd done to him for the rest of his life. Hoss hoped it would be a long one. Though he didn't expect it…

© 2002 September 14^th Joules


Lutra thought that they might have perhaps fed him his own hands. Well, I never did say what those chunks of meat were, did I…?

---

Darkside