hakirsch
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Captive (M/M)(Pt. 3 of the cyborg wolf thing)
🕑 Added 2018-02-21 01:10:32 +0000 UTC Surprise! Here's part 3 of my cyborg wolf porn thing! It's kind of rough, but I want to get it out there.---
I came around while still bound up, but jostling, moving. The very first thing I thought was, I’m still on acid. The next thought was that metal tasted disgusting. My blurry vision resolved to the sight of gray fur, one side of a zipper, black leather, and incongruous metal pieces. Plastic and metal, now seen up close.
“Whathefuck?” I clutched on for dear life, only all my hands did was clutch at each other behind my back. I stiffened and groaned, but didn’t fall.
He held me. He carried me. I had no idea where we were, or how long we’d been headed there. We were still in the woods, but the woods formed a state park greenbelt ring separating the industrial district from the outermost residential suburbs. We could be miles away from the train station. As if on thought cue, I heard the blare of a train horn. Commuter or freight, it didn’t matter; it was far away.
“Shut up, or I’ll throw you against a tree,” the wolf growled, and I could feel the vibration against me from the back of his head. He walked hunched over, with me slung across his shoulders. I could hear him breathing, a very regular deep huff with digital exertion ground into it as a layer of sound came out on top of it. Still twinkling in my trip, I thought back to my TV home theater sound-bar and its strange brain-sucking surround sound effects.
I shut up.
We came to a clearing, but not near a creek this time. Instead, it was the scrubby wild on the border of true woods and once-cleared land. Quite in the middle of it, next to a power transformer box, was a ramshackle cabin. It was hardly large enough for one person, and the windows had long broken out. He walked out past it and down a set of rough concrete steps inside of a storm cellar door, all with me on his back. I felt small and helpless and slightly aroused, but mostly helpless.
The stairs led to a cinderblock wall, mottled with age. He held one hand up to it, and an outline glowed in the material as if it were actually just frosted glass. I stared. The wall opened up, and swung in as a door. A door into complete and utter blackness.
The wolf set foot into the negative space and lights glowed up along the walls, exposing a brutalist passageway. He stepped inside further and turned; the door slid back into place with a firm thunk and a loud whirr-clack-whirr from some unseen mechanism.
Unlike the cabin above, this place was clean. Not exactly new, and not at all pretty in the conventional sense, but not a toxic hazard. The air actually smelled faintly of disinfectant. Also, leather. The wolf threw me down onto the floor of the hallway, a simple overhead heave that thudded me onto my back and my head onto his boot to prevent any serious damage. It knocked the wind out of me and I gagged, vision bleary with the orange-yellow of the security lighting. He kicked at me until I rolled over, then unbound my feet, then dragged me up to stand.
“Get inside,” he said, and pushed me around the corner at the end of the passageway. It led into a large common space which forked off four other hallways. The common space was full of equipment, some of it looking in the process of being repaired or assembled, other pieces used to create ad-hoc furniture. He crowded me across the room, then up against one of the hallway doors. It whirred open and led into a cramped room dominated with what looked to be four metal cages. They took up the space like bunk beds, sized as such, and the room featured an EMERGENCY CALL button placed garishly central between them.
“I’m going back out. I told you earlier, I had a very bad day. I need to get you food.” With that, the wolf simple turned away from me and stalked back across the big space. I moved to follow and the door to the room slid shut so quickly that I walked right into it.
Stunned, I patted, pounded, knocked. The door didn’t budge. My anxiety level quickly ratcheted up into bad trip territory. The room was too boring to be interesting to someone on acid, the cages offering up a little flickering of light but not enough. A much deeper thump happened, and the lights dimmed down to red. I sank down to sit on the floor between the cage racks and put my head between my knees.
Slowly, I fell back out of quivering panic. A very gentle breeze blew against me - good, I won’t suffocate. The red light came with no warnings or cataclysms - it’s just a night light. “Where the fuck am I?” I said aloud, my words ringing back from all the metal and concrete in the room. These aren’t animal cages. These are people cages. People are supposed to sleep in them. Are they supposed to be kept isolated because they’re dangerous, or because everything in here is dangerous, or because and then a whiff of the post-sexual salty stink from my creamed-in leather pants wafted up to my face and I imagined that every surface in the room was covered in Sex.
The wolf was gone for hours, long enough that I came off my trip into the alert sparkle of comedown. Only LSD would come down into something that felt better than when it started. I explored every inch of the room, and uncovered no secrets. I couldn’t escape through any obvious means, although a placard next to the door explained that I would definitely be able to escape if there were a fire. It also indicated in all to pleasant but bold print that [THIS FACILITY IS EQUIPPED WITH A CO2 FIRE SUPPRESSION SYSTEM]. There was no further explanation, but I was (un)fortunately smart enough to know that meant a fire would easily be extinguished, along with myself.
The bunk cages were immobile but all could be opened. I climbed into one and uncovered a memory foam pillow and a blanket, and the padding was quite comfortable in that squishy clay sort of way. Then my heart started to pound as I imagined the door shutting and latching. The wolf would find me trapped in a cage. I was already trapped in a cage. I was trapped.
A distant thunk, and the light faded from red to a more pleasant incandescent color. I clambered out of the cage just in time for the door to slide open. The wolf loomed in the doorway, looking much like he had when he had left: clad in leather, glaring, and broken. There were now a few grocery bags on a tool cart table out in the larger common space.
The wolf sniffed, an electronic noise along with a huffing sound. “You smell disgusting. Strip.” When I didn’t instantly comply, he twitched towards me. I gagged and started aimlessly fumbling with myself. I couldn’t get out of my shirt and he grabbed it, hauling it up and almost pulling me off my feet, giving me a moment of being suffocated by the smooth clasp of leather pulled up over my head. I backed away and extricated myself from my boots, my chaps, my leather pants. The codpiece pouch was slimy with sweat and spunk and stank enormously.
As I rid myself of my fetish gear, the wolf took it up. He sniffed into my boots, then sniffed especially at the mess in the groin of my pants. He turned and left the room, leaving me standing naked and confused. Less than a minute later, the door huffed open again. “Alex, wake up,” the wolf announced, then stalked in and grabbed me, dragging me out into the main room.
[Good evening, Wolf. You are accompanied by a newcomer. Newcomer One will have default security levels.] The voice was professional and cold and male, and ground with the slight chops and cuts of digitized speech, but someone had gone to the trouble of making it sound fairly human.
The wolf rolled his eyes somewhat, and spoke with his muzzle down and to the side, ears slightly swiped back, embarrassed, ashamed, frustrated, irritated, and fearful. It did not make him look any less traumatically beastly. “Give him level 3 so he can take a shit somewhere other than the floor or in a bucket or whatever,” the wolf said, then picked up a bag of groceries and handed it to me. There was nothing strange at all about the contents: frozen food for the most part. “You know what a refrigerator is, right? Put that stuff in the freezer. In there,” he said, then pointed to another facility door.
[Newcomer One now has level 3 security access. Exterior access is denied. Limited interior access is granted.]
I went through the door and found myself in a bigger living space with more traditional furniture, adjacent to a kitchen. Everything was industrial and sturdy, but there was a sink, stovetop, microwave convection oven, refrigerator, dish sanitizer. I opened the fridge door and there were only strange bottles printed with speckled QR codes and nutritional info, with lids that looked absurdly complex for something a person would drink from.
I opened the freezer. It was empty, save for some frost. I stuffed the bag in and turned around. The wolf was just about breathing down my neck. I just stared dumbly at him. “What, what am I doing here?”
The wolf took his jacket off and held it out; I mistakenly took it. Aside from the jacket being torn in spots and missing an entire arm, it was now covered in something. I got it on my hands. It was blood. None of it was inside the jacket. I could smell it and gagged. The wolf didn’t bat an eye. His laser-eye kept beaming dull red at me. “Your name is Brock Michael Hudson.” Oh god don’t use my first name, I fucking hate my first name. “I’ve seen you fifty-three times. An entire year and a week. I’ve done exactly what you wanted.” But I did whatever you told me… “Now I want a favor.”
I did not respond. The wolf sniffed his own jacket, made a face, then snatched it back and jammed it into what a garbage can. He sniffed again, towards me, and made another face.
“Okay, okay, uh, alright, I’ll do a favor. I’ll suck your dick again or you can fuck me or I’ll, I don’t-“
He grabbed me by the neck. Somehow, despite having been very close to him fifty-three times, I had never quite internalized that he was about twenty percent bigger than me, much less a machine. He grabbed my neck like someone grabbing a baseball bat or a beer can.
“I want you to fix me.”
