Crude and Worthless

The instant Chameleon disappears into the darkness, I move. Adrenaline takes over before my brain can catch up. I scramble to my feet and bolt down the tunnel. My bare feet slap against the muddy tracks. Gravel cuts into my soles. My lungs burn from the fight with Chameleon, but fear lends me speed.

Behind me, Pluto roars. The sound echoes through the mine like a cannon blast. I don't look back. The flickering bulbs streak past overhead as I sprint through alternating patches of light and darkness. My heart pounds so hard I can barely hear the generator anymore.

I sprint through the mine as fast as my exhausted legs will carry me. Every muscle screams from the beating Chameleon gave me. The tunnel seems endless, stretching forward through alternating bands of darkness and light while the generator's distant hum echoes through the stone.

For one glorious moment, I actually think I might be getting away. Then the sound of Pluto's footsteps erupts behind me, impossibly fast for something so large, and the hope dies in my throat. Then something slams into me from behind. The impact drives every ounce of air from my lungs.

I hit the ground hard. The side of my face smashes into mud and gravel. Pain explodes through my shoulder as I tumble across the tracks. Before I can recover, a massive weight crashes down on top of me. "Oh God..."

A huge hand seizes the back of my overall shorts. Another grabs my wrist. I kick wildly. Pluto barely notices. The giant mutant drags me several feet through the mud before pinning me flat against the cavern floor. I am face down and helpless. My cheek grinds against damp gravel.

I claw at the ground, trying to find leverage, but Pluto's weight keeps me trapped. One enormous hand forces my shoulder blades downward while the other pins my arm behind my back. Pain shoots through my shoulder. "Quit squirmin'," Pluto growls.

"Get off me!" I buck violently beneath him. It accomplishes absolutely nothing. Pluto is simply too large. The fight with Chameleon has left him bleeding from half a dozen wounds, but if anything, that only seems to have made him angrier.

I twist my head enough to glare back at him. His pale eyes stare down at me, not with cruelty, not even with pleasure, but simply with irritation. Like I'm a stray dog making his job harder. His rough fingers, calloused and sure, slide between my legs with an air of inspection.

He pushes two of them inside without ceremony, and I bite back a gasp at the renewed intrusion. He withdraws them, slick and glistening, and smears the wetness along the length of his own hardened flesh. Then he positions himself, the blunt head of his cock a heavy pressure at my entrance.

There is no ceremony, no slow breach this time. With a single, powerful surge of his hips, he forces the whole of his length into the wet, yielding space left behind. A choked sound escapes me, my body jolting forward from the **** of it. The sensation is one of overwhelming fullness, a raw and sloppy invasion that leaves me breathless and pinned beneath his weight.

His weight crushes the air from my lungs as he begins to move, a steady, rocking rhythm that fills the tunnel with the slick, wet sound of flesh meeting flesh. A foul, scent rises with the heat of our bodies, a cloying odor that mixes with the damp earth and something else, something sharp and alien.

I feel each stroke as a dull, spreading ache, a raw friction that seems to erase the boundary between his body and mine. The rhythm changes, a brutal acceleration that drives the air from my lungs in ragged gasps. His thrusts become deep, punishing things that burrow into a raw and tender core I did not know existed.

Each impact pushes me forward on the gritty floor, my skin scraping against the rough stone. A faint, high-pitched whine escapes my clenched teeth, a sound of pure animal distress that seems to please him, for his pace only intensifies, a relentless hammering that promises to reshape me from the inside out into something crude and worthless.

He drives into me with a single, brutal motion, and I feel a thin membrane of muscle, a final barrier deep within, tear with a silent, internal pop. The sensation is a bright lance of pain so sharp it steals my vision for a moment, leaving only the awful, impossible feeling of his intrusion breaching my cervix.

A low groan vibrates from his chest against my back, a sound of profound conquest. He holds himself there, fully sheathed in a place no man was ever meant to be, and a terrifying, hollow stillness settles within me. He begins to move again within that impossible, violated space, a shallow, grinding rhythm that scrapes against the raw edges of my consciousness.

Each thrust is a punctuation of ownership, a brutal reminder of where his seed will take root. A deep, shuddering tremor runs through him, and a final, searing heat spills deep inside the cradle of my bones, a claiming so complete it feels like a brand. He goes still, his weight a suffocating anchor, and in the silence that follows, I feel the first cold trickle of his release escape, tracing a shameful path down the inside of my thigh.