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At His Service, Of Course	By : Darkrogue Category: +A through F > Brain Dead 13 Views: 9633 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Brain Dead 13 or the characters involved, and I ain’t making any money, here. Apologies to the creators for this holocaust of wrong. Here be squicky material, so be ye warned.

Chapter List
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Lance stirred at the sound of a creaking door.
What did that freak want now?
He shifted, struggling in his ropes. His arms hurt, the position wearing on him.
Fritz had returned earlier, just once. He’d shoved a plate of beetles in his face, and seemed pretty frustrated with his disinterest and disgust. But as his eyes adjusted he understood his latest visitor wasn’t Fritz, but someone—something else pattering down the stairs.
It looked like a…
He blinked, certain he was hallucinating.
A crocodile in a chef’s hat?
Now I’ve seen everything.
Walking upright, the crocodile wore an apron, and carried a large metal pot. Lance watched with apprehension as the creature approached him and thrust a wooden spoon under his nose.
He hesitated. Like hell he was eating something offered to him by an alligator in a hat. One angry, warning wave of a meat cleaver and he quickly changed his mind, lifting his head. The scent wasn’t unpleasant, and carried the zing of Cajun spice.
He stalled, mouth watering. He was hungry…
At some prompting he swallowed a few bites, but as he slurped offered soup, he could see the croc’s mind slowly working. At one point, when the chef thought him engaged, his eye caught the gleam of that cleaver, preparing to take him unaware, and knew with alarm that his latest acquaintance had devised a new recipe, with him as the main ingredient.
Panicking, he tugged at his bonds, reminded once more of his helplessness. Here he was, strung like a carcass in a slaughterhouse, that cleaver seeking his neck. His voice managed a strangled protest when the door burst open.
Lance looked up.
Fritz.
He sighed and then sank, his sudden, confusing relief darkened by the memory of what had happened before.
Now Fritz and the crocodile launched into a quarrel of sorts. Fritz was ranting and bouncing up and down, hook-hands flailing. Finally the crocodile spat something unknown to human ears and clopped Fritz’s head with his wooden spoon before whirling from the room, his tail overturning a stool as he went.
It was the damndest thing he’d ever seen, and in spite of his predicament Lance laughed out loud.
Rubbing his noggin, Fritz spun a snarl on him. The cackling stopped, but that big dopey grin remained on the miserable human, watching him with amusement from his bonds.
Fritz approached, clashing hooks together with thoughts of filleting him.
“Now whaddaya want?” the human sneered, and Fritz paused, stunned at the brazen audacity. He’d arranged to have this fool fed (after he’d rudely rejected his lovely beetles). He’d kept that stupid croc from decapitating him and mincing him into jambalaya. And still, he mocked him.
Growling, Fritz launched on his tiptoes, hooked him round the neck and pressed his long chin threateningly to the human’s nose.
“Easy, pal,” Lance backed off, his voice sweetening. “Why not let me down from these ropes, hmm?”
Fritz stalled at the change, the sudden charm and appeal in the prisoner’s tone.
“Come on. I’m really uncomfortable like this. You seem nice enough, little fella. Just loose the ropes, let my arms down a bit. You can do that, can’t you?”
Fritz boiled at the flattery. Gahhh! Hate, hate, hate!
“Promise I’ll be good,” Lance crooned, tilting his head, his wide, toothy smile almost radioactive. Green eyes blinked and batted, those charms weaving a spell only a persuasive human tongue could achieve.
“Pretty please?”
Fritz hesitated, and it seemed to Lance he nearly softened.
That monitor blipped.
“Fool! Take no heed of that trickster’s pleas!”
Lance sank.
Dammit!
Dr. Neurosis had returned to ‘check in’, it seemed, that ridiculous brain floating on his stem in that monitor screen.
“We’ve entertained this pathetic sack of skin long enough. It is time we eliminated this potential nuisance.”
Huh?
Lance heard a scrape of steel, saw Fritz ready those hooks…
“Wait!” he heard himself cry. “S-suppose your network goes down again! Seemed pretty unstable, thanks to your henchman’s cannon, here.” Lance nodded to an indignant Fritz, recalling the mess that freak had made of the room when he’d blasted a portion of the floor away the first time he’d tried to kill him and failed. “All I mean is…something might go wrong again, and then where would your super-evil plan be?”
“I will simply summon another idiot, like yourself!” Neurosis proudly replied.
“Ah, but I can do it, free of charge.”
“And if I merely kill the next foolish clod? What value could sparing your pitiful life possibly yield?”
Furiously Lance thought. Technically he was right. Unless he could somehow “sell” himself…
“Ha. Those other guys can’t offer half the service I can, sir. Believe me, those fellas are amateurs. If you’re gonna rule the world in style, you’ll need a computer genius. I know how these things work. Special modifications? No sweat! I got you covered. When it comes to computers, man, I can do anything! Just let me know what you’ve got in mind, and I’ll hop to it…so long as I’ve, you know, got use of my arms…”
He stalled, hoping he hadn’t gone too far.
Fritz was glancing between his master and their captive.
At length Dr. Neurosis relented, wagging a nod. “Very well. I suppose an on-site technical slave could have its uses…for now.”
Whew! Lance sighed. Dodged a bullet, there. Bought some time…
Fritz visibly deflated, his pending fun spoiled.
“But do not think you’re off the hook, yet, my sassy young repairman! Prepare yourself, and know that I am not easily satisfied. Tread warily, Mr. Galahad.”
The monitor went black, and Lance and Fritz were alone again.
Fritz whirled on him, angry that Lance had not only endeavored to trick him, but pointed out Fritz’s shortcomings to his master.
Growling, Fritz caught the back of his neck in the curve of one hook, ripping him closer to press a threatening glare to his face.
“You gonna cram yer tongue in my ass again?” the human smirked.
Fritz snuffed. Sounded like this one needed another lesson—and he knew just how to remove that snark from his voice, the sneer from his face.
“Ulp…!” Lance gasped when the other hook slipped inside his ass.
Fritz grinned and twisted cold steel, knowing how easy it would be to shred tender inner flesh.
Lance knew it, too. “W-we can talk about this, right?”
But Fritz never bothered talking
He moved round, letting his hook’s curve slide with him until he stood on his toes behind the human, one hook resting at Lance’s throat, the other deep in his backside.
Lance gulped at the dual sensation of cool steel pressed against his windpipe and wedged just inside his chute. The slightest annoyance and Fritz could quickly slice open his gullet—or disembowel him.
Fritz shifted, forcing Lance to move with him or be split up the middle. He giggled, watching lean legs awkwardly struggle and dance. He felt throat’s pulse throb beneath his hook, heard the quick, uneasy breaths. Smelled perspiration.
Fear.
Fritz grinned.
Gingerly he wiggled that hook, watching with amusement as Lance desperately followed his maneuvers, swaying his hips with a moan. Fritz’s tongue rolled out, played up the stretched and naked back.
“Oh, man…come on!” Lance groaned. Fritz understood it was his way of begging him to stop without actually begging.
Humans and their pride.
Fritz twisted, inched his hook in further, gauging the man’s responses. He felt trembling and looked down, saw those quivering thighs, what little muscle they possessed strained and taut, that lean back arched like a bow.
Lance’s blood pulsed, hot with fear as that hook-hand scraped at his insides. He swallowed, shifted. And all the while the human’s moans stirred something in Fritz, and at once he wanted to possess his prisoner fully. To own him, make him aware of his position, make him feel and appreciate it…
But there was the little problem of their size difference. This tall human forced him to tiptoe just to clasp his neck.
Cursing his shortness, Fritz glanced about the room, then smiled.
Feeling the hook withdraw from his butt, Lance gasped. The other left his neck, and at a dragging sound he strained to see. The freak had scooted a small stepstool behind him, and climbed up.
Fritz loosed his own leggings, carefully freeing his green-gray member (had to be careful with those hooks, after all). It was impressive, for his size, he’d been told.
Lance gasped again when sharp points grazed his back, trailing a downward path. Gooseflesh sprinkled his skin as that slathering tongue traced up his spine, tasting flesh.
Again a hook looped at his throat, applied pressure, a warning that Lance understood.
Hold still.
And then he felt something else…not a tongue this time, but something stiff, hot and demanding, nudge between his exposed buttocks.
Lance cried out, shifting in panic. The hook at his throat tightened while another scraped the sensitive flesh of his left hip. And before he could protest, something hard and insistent breached his opening and popped through.
At a streak of pain, Lance saw stars and uttered a strangled moan.
Fritz sighed, contented as he penetrated his captive like hot butter. Warm innards squeezed the head of his cock, just wedging open the tight, quivering sphincter. His prisoner’s breaths grew ragged, and his pitiful whimpers filled the room, his body shaking with pain.
Thinking of how the human had tried to trick him, Fritz frowned and thrust, claiming his first inches of territory in the warm, reluctant channel.
Lance’s eyes flew wide.
“Ahh…oww!”
Bound hands flexed and clasped in vain, his legs scrabbling in their awkward position to expel the thick, scorching invader. The hook slid from his throat and down his side to join the other, until both clutched his hips. He winced, feeling those points bite into his flesh and propel his rapist forward, deeper.
Lance choked a cry. Points of light danced in his eyes and his head spun. Who knew such huge things came in such small packages!
To be honest, Lance hadn’t thought much of Fritz, at first. This short, squatty freak he’d deemed ugly, stupid, incompetent. But Lance was feeling it, now, like a searing brand spreading his sphincter, forcing him open.
Never underestimate your opponent, Lance…
Lesson learned.
Lance swallowed, tears swelling in his green eyes. He whimpered, his shame similar to the hot embarrassment he’d felt before, only now with added pain.
The tongue had done the exploring. The cock had come to conquer.
He could only hope he’d finish quickly and relent.
But Fritz had no intention of ending this quickly. He meant to savor his triumph over this swaggering fool. Fritz felt a tremor of pain rattle up his reluctant partner’s limbs and paused to delight in his rival’s defeat. He could smell the blood, rushing through the lean and trembling form at his mercy, and he thrust again, deeper, feeling the warmth of his prisoner’s body shudder and yield, tight unwilling tissue giving way.
“Unhh!” Lance grunted, cringing as solid, hot flesh split his innards, forced its way further up his resisting channel. His red mane tossed back, his teeth clenched, his green eyes flung wide, lean body arched and quivering and slicked with sweat.
In a single, cruel thrust, Fritz claimed his depths, feeling the hot, tight passage surrender to him.
Lance yelped.
“Owwww!”
Fritz impaled him fully, the human’s quivering white buttocks pressed against his groin. He felt the helpless body lurch, and his hooks bit into slender hips to hold them in place, the painful invasion complete.
“Oh…ahhhh…” Lance sobbed and squirmed, his blood swimming hot with shame and defeat. Fritz grinned, delighting in his triumph, how he had this sassy human so thoroughly in his power! The joy of overcoming the taller, feisty creature, the room humming with the song of his moans, his pain…
Lance clutched at his ropes and whimpered, the sensation of hot, stiff flesh splitting him wide. His sphincter burned, the ache of invasion deep in his belly making him quiver while those hooks at his hips bore a stinging reminder of his vulnerability. Trembling, he felt the cool itch of his own, trickling blood.
Fritz glanced down, saw that his hook had bitten too deep. Seeing crimson, he bent, his long, slathering tongue lapping at the red river weeping down the shivering white flesh of his conquered rival’s hip.
“Mmm.” His mouth watered as the warm, tantalizing taste of sweet copper splashed his tongue.
Lance gasped, tensing as a shock of wet slickness touched his flesh. The hook eased up, leaving in its place a lasting sting.
Fritz beheld the beauty of this slender body, helplessly skewered on him and wholly at his mercy: a taller, smarter beast tamed.
Fritz didn’t know much, but he knew his own limitations. He knew he wasn’t clever, and made up for it with weapons, violence, force. But this human, his nemesis, thought himself very clever, indeed…and Fritz meant to adjust his attitude.
He shifted inside the trembling prisoner, felt the warm tunnel quiver and twitch in response. His taste for meat and blood roused, he leaned down, applied sharp teeth to an exposed flank.
Startled, Lance moaned and squirmed at a mix of tickling and pain, not entirely malicious, but alarming. Pointed yellow teeth scraped sensitive skin and withdrew before that tongue rolled along his flesh, up his stretched side, towards his armpit.
“Gahh…!”
His back arched further, ass wriggling, chest thrust out. Fritz’s hooks bore down, digging indentions in hips as his slobbering tongue curled round and found a tight, pink bud against slim, straining chest.
Lance gasped as that snaking tongue stroked his nipple, and somewhere in his tumbling head he heard himself sigh. And at that moment something else happened: his limbs relaxed oh-so-slightly. Pain began to dissolve as his stretched, tortured ring succumbed to the assault. The burn in his back passage cooled and eased, that ache in his bowels slowly relenting.
Fritz withdrew and drove back inside, rocking Lance forward on his toes. His body lurched in his ropes and a shudder went through him as that plundering intruder nudged his prostate. Head spinning, Lance moaned, and felt that horrid imp commence a steady rhythm: dragging out, plunging in, a motion just vindictive enough to make him cringe, and yet somehow coaxing his voice to respond with something that was not all pain. This gauche, mean little troll had soon established a smooth cadence of strokes that carried him upward on some strange, dizzying ether. Pain gave way to gut-tickling thrills, and he heard himself crooning in high, broken whines.
The vocal hints were not lost on Fritz, and he relished in the fool’s song of melting pride and ultimate submission.
Take him. Pound him! Make him feel it.
Hooks grabbed and scraped, pulling slim hips back to meet faster, brutal strokes. Lance stumbled forward, reached helplessly at his ropes to steady himself against the quickening onslaught. Fritz may have been short, but that cock sure could pack a wallop—one that Lance felt deep in his guts. He gurgled, adjusted, and to his dismay he felt his own legs betray him and part, bracing and opening him for more thorough access to his most private, shameful passage.
“Uhn…uhn…” He grunted in time with Fritz’s thrusts. His eyes squeezed shut, his entire world that violating rod that had captured and filled him, turned his own body against his will. Tremors spun through his belly at the pounding of his prostate, and he found his own hips rocking back, impaling himself, his fuzzy thoughts startled by the deep, guttural groans in his throat (was that him?).
And Fritz heard them, too. Those very human and yet somehow animal moans propelled him, encouraged him, along with the hot internal flesh responding like warm and throbbing silk. Lance’s innards stroked and spasmed, aided by the human’s own rocking ass, and something primal and wrong and very, very right collided in a chorus between them.
Fritz’s moment of triumph spiraled. His hooks gnawed, and with a malicious growl he ripped Lance’s waist into him, crushing the pale ass to his groin as he emptied his seed into the tight, quivering warmth of his prisoner’s guts.
Lance choked at a final, punishing stroke and moaned as hot waves of monster fluid filled him with a burn almost painful. The blazing flood sparked something in his loins, and his body stiffened, rattled with his own release.
Through clenched teeth he screamed as clear-white fluid, purely human, erupted from his own impossible stiffness to spatter the floor. His muscles strained, clutching rope. The cords in his lean legs contracted and released.
At length his eyes lidded, and he slumped with a deep, throaty sigh.
Sated, Fritz uttered a sigh of his own. Almost tenderly his hooks released flesh, and he slowly withdrew, savoring every tugging inch. His length slid out and popped free, followed by a small river of his own seed, which spluttered to splash the backs of the human’s quivering thighs. The henchman looked on in triumph, observed his conquered rival.
Lance felt dizzy and sick, his world spinning.
Confused.
That freak had…had screwed him! And he’d come! He, Lance Arthur Galahad, had climaxed while this sideshow attraction raped him. Worst of all, he could feel the creature’s fluids churning inside him, roiling in his belly. After all the weirdness he’d suffered, who knew what that would do? Suddenly his tangled mind assaulted him with thoughts of having to birth the hunchback’s freakish spawn, and he shuddered at the unthinkable fate his own imagination had conjured.
Calm down, Lance. This isn’t the movies. This ain’t a video game…
But there was still the evidence of his own completion, weeping down his own softening cock and dotting the floor.
Did I…did I enjoy it? No! Never! I…I…oh, man…
Lance once more hung limp in his bonds, and Fritz watched him carefully. Suddenly he beheld a different creature than the brash computer repairman who’d sauntered through the front door. Gone was that damnable smirk, gone was that cocksure spark. This smug, overconfident young human now more resembled a thing broken. It was almost disappointing. The chatty smart-mouth who’d first challenged him, thwarted his deadly assaults toe to toe with pure wit and moxie; the snarky technician who had boldly dared insult his master without so much as a flinch…that was the man Fritz wanted to defeat; that was the personality he so longed to dominate.
But perhaps he had succeeded.
Fritz grinned. He was almost starting to like his new pet. He wondered how long his master would let him keep it?
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At His Service, Of Course