Date: Thu, 12 Sep 2013 03:46:04 +0000
From: Michael Offutt <kavrik@hotmail.com>
Subject: Black Dragon Rising Chapter 14 - Gay Science Fiction

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                                    *****

                              Chapter Fourteen

      I know the laboratory of Talisac will haunt my dreams for years to
come. I snap a buckle into place, slip a sweaty foot into its skin-tight
boot, and feel once again the cold caress of metal. I tighten the straps of
my breastplate, but the drug that Talisac forced me to drink makes my blood
rage and my heart pound. My skin feels hot and the sweat makes my skin
clammy.

I notice for the first time that the floor is spotted in dried blood. There
are unsightly rings of it; dark stains that hint of cutting and
tearing. I'm convinced it's only through Tethyr's grace that I came here
earlier and can now walk out alive.

      I watch Talisac. He puts the "sound" made from surgical steel in a
glass specimen jar. The white milk he harvested from my forearm-sized
erection pools on the bottom, and he cackles gleefully before putting it in
a box that billows frosty mist.

      "Royal jelly," he whispers. "I never thought I would see it again."

      "May I go sir?" I ask. The line of my mouth is flat and
unemotional. I stand but my groin throbs in pain.

      "Yes," he says and waves me onward with his long nails. "Go. Master
Kierak will want to see you since you're one that's survived. But we both
know why that is now, don't we. I don't want you to mention anything about
me harvesting the jelly from you. That is between us."

      Fully clothed in my killsuit yet more uncomfortable than I've ever
been, I'm given no time to recuperate. The guards enter and promptly escort
me before the master. Making a soft "click click" on the ground as I walk,
I'm taken by surprise at the quiet of his receiving chamber. It's so
pronounced that my very movement is an affront to the serenity. Is this
some kind of meditation room? I can't even hear the constant scream from
the slave pits anymore. How is that possible?

      I open my mouth to speak, but the guards force me to my knees. They
smack me painfully across the back of the neck to keep my head bowed and my
eyes low. "Assume the proper posture before your master," one of them
warns. I can hear his fist grip the spear tighter as he readies another
blow.

      Master Kierak places his fingers in a chalice made from a human
skull; the lip of it is ringed by gold and precious jewels. Carefully he
withdraws something shiny and black to eat. The size of small marbles,
these alien snacks require much grinding and chewing. The sound of the
master's teeth masticating thus makes my nerves raw. A bit after that, he
spits shell remnants upon the rough-cut stone floor. A few bits stick to
the front of his purple robes. A pair of long slimy tentacles entwine each
other, and he contemplates me from his seat on a broad cushion of gold
silk. Then he rises to his feet and attaches the strange ornate box that
gives him the power to speak in my language.

      "I am informed by Dr. Talisac that you've responded well to your
oiling. This pleases me as I think I've made a good investment in you. I've
sold five seats to some wealthy patrons of the slave pits who like to watch
the particularly young. I sent them invitations, and I lied by telling them
you are in fact fifteen. That drives the price up. As long as you keep your
mouth shut, the illusion they've paid for will be complete for your face is
as youthful as they come. After tonight...after they see your physical
endowment...I will be able to charge much more. Your performance tonight in
the milking chamber is crucial. One of them has even paid to bathe in the
tub of semen provided that you add to it before they do so. I assured them
that this will happen. The money from tonight is good, but it will get much
better. We only have the chamber for one hour tonight. You must be
ready. If your performance lacks, I shall have only you to blame. Do you
understand?"

      "Yes, master," I say. In truth, however, I have many questions. Like
what exactly is a tub of semen?

      I feel the vast touch of his mind against my own, but it's
brief. Maybe he's testing my loyalty by looking within me for any
deception.

      "Your mate, the one that goes by Talen, is now responsible for
you. We have a caste system for our thralls, and he is your superior but
only by choice. Do you understand what this means?"

      I shake my head no.

      "It means he will serve me as Shar served me, and he will compete
alongside you when I so desire to win the gladiatorial games. Our caste
system has a storied history. A long time ago, we had a slave uprising that
nearly destroyed us. It compromised our ability to farm Eros, a drug of
which you may be familiar. It's how we make most of our money. A wise mind
lord by the name of Carcarian put down the slave revolt but not without
killing almost a million men. Many of our cups and furniture pieces that
you recognize are made from bones of humans from that time period."

      I swallow nervously. A trickle of sweat drips from my forehead.

      "Carcarian established the castes recognized throughout our vast
empire. He wisely put thralls over slaves to establish a reward system that
has served us well. As a result, another slave revolt has not happened
since. The caste system ensures a dependent and symbiotic relationship.
Breeders and alpha men are encouraged to rut like the beasts they are. It
satisfies the animal instinct.  In return, those men who become holes for
other men are rewarded for the unpleasantness in other ways. You and your
uke are going to make me money both inside and outside the ring. A seme and
uke team is very rare as there are more uke than there are seme. The fact
that you can fight makes the both of you that much more valuable. Continue
to make me coin, and I'll shower respect on the both of you. Is this
clear?"

      "Yes master," I say. Although I can't see how "rutting" is
necessarily unpleasant for the bottom. The squid faces have no
comprehension of just how fun sex is. Or maybe it's only fun when I'm the
seme, which I reason, must mean "top." "Uke" conversely must mean "bottom."
It's an interesting thing to see sexual roles so clearly relate to societal
hierarchy among slaves.

      "When you're not following my orders, you'll follow Talen's. If he
wants to punish you, you will be beaten. If he wants you wounded, you shall
be cut. Every seme must have a uke, but not the other way around. A uke's
control of you must never be questioned."

      "Sir, do I have any rights?"

      "Yes," the mind lord says. "Once a day at the flesh market, you can
choose a different uke by passing them the golden ring on the end of your
leash. This is a symbol of your ownership with which you shall be fitted
tonight by Talen. But whoever receives your golden ring is your master for
that night. Furthermore, someone already in possession of a seme is
unavailable for another. Is this understood?"

      I nod. "What am I to do until then, master?"

      "Your uke has sentenced you to ten hours of hard labor. He's decreed
that you're to work in our mines."

      My mouth drops. What the fuck? "W-why would he do that? There must be
some mistake."

      "There's no mistake. There are three tasks a seme is trusted to do to
keep him out of trouble. Each morning, the uke tells us what his seme is
assigned, usually based on what happened the night before. The first, and
most unpopular, is the mine. The second is overseeing the ceremorphosis
pits, which is where our young are born. The third is in preparing and
gathering Eros. The fact that he chose the mine may indicate that he is
displeased with you."

      I frown, but at the same time, I realize that Talen would have known
to keep me away from Eros and that I wouldn't have liked being an overseer
for those who are about to be transformed into more of these
monsters. Really, the mine is his only choice if he wants me healthy.

      "Master, may I ask what Talen is doing?"

      Master Kierak paces some more. "As your uke he's above you knowing
his activities, but just this once I shall tell you. Uke who own a seme are
of the highest caste because they bring in the most income. Because he has
earned this status for a day or until you change your mind and cast him
aside, he may rest whenever he wishes. Later he will be bathed in fine
scented water, his nails manicured, and his skin massaged. He can eat
whatever it is that he desires from fine fruits to sweet meats. Shortly
before your shift ends, he will be taken before Talisac for preparation. As
soon as your day is finished in the mine, you'll be reunited with him for
tonight's entertainment. He is allowed to explore our kingdom as he desires
only so long as he promises to return before evening.  To escape means we
put the seme to death."

      I blink my eyes, realizing Talen literally has the power of life and
death over me right now.  Still, it gets me a little worked up that Talen's
day sounds so easy. "He gets to do all of that while I have to work my ass
off in the mine?"

      Master Kierak's tentacles slither together. "He is of a higher caste
than you."

      "What caste did Shar belong to?"

      The mind lord considers my question. "Shar was a uke, but he did not
have a seme. That left him less entitled and thus he became my personal
servant and bodyguard. But I assure you, he was treated with respect." He
nods to the guards and then commands them, "Take him to the mines.  Make
sure he's watered and fed only when he needs it. Resources cannot be spared
for the miners."

      The guards grab me by the arms and haul me to my feet.

      I'm escorted a mile into the ground where the sound of toiling rises
from a dark pit lit sparsely by sputtering torches. They show me to an area
of unyielding gray stone, and I'm handed a pickaxe, shovel, and then shown
that I need to break up rock and pile it in a cart that runs along a
track. In other such dig areas, I see non-humans at work. I spot a couple
of giants, a pair of dwarves, and three rock trolls smashing at
boulders. There are only a couple of men within sight of me, and they're
all skinny and weak-looking. I realize that all they do is work the
carts. These men are just common slaves and they probably think I am
too. When I try to speak, one guard punches me across the jaw. "NO
talking," he utters. "Work."

      I clench my teeth and set my jaw.

      "Do I get to work the carts at least?" I ask, pointing toward the
men. "Like they do?"

      "No," a guard says. "You must dig and load. You must produce the same
quota as the others."

      I look at an ogre tugging on a boulder. He shrugs it into one of the
carts and then lets out a loud fart. The noxious smell washes over me and
nearly knocks me to my knees. But his strength is undeniable.

      "There's no way I can work like an ogre," I state. "It's not
possible."

      The guard grins; I notice immediately he's missing one tooth. Then he
hits me with the blunt end of his spear. "Get to work. If you wish another
duty, take that up with your uke."

      I swallow my pride, and slide into the hole that's been allotted to
me for the next ten hours.  While I work, I hope Talen is finding out where
our helmets are being kept, and I hope that Dr.  Talisac doesn't hurt him
when the time comes for whatever modification they've got in store for his
flesh.

      One after another, I ring my pickaxe down on the granite wondering
what it is that I'm looking for. I learn quickly to make my pieces small as
the larger ones are exceptionally heavy. I strain with all my might with
one in particular, feeling tendons stretched to the max, and muscles
bulging all over my chest. Finally, I manage to wrestle it into the
cart. The other workers laugh at me. There's a never ending supply of stone
afterall, and I'm using up my energy reserves quickly. By the time lunch
arrives, I'm starved, sore, and aching in every muscle of my body.

      I'm handed a pewter plate topped with a six ounce slab of
meat. There's nothing else; I eat it quickly as do the others who eye me
cautiously in the gloom. A Cyclops stares at me with his one eye, and I
know he's calculating how easy it would be to rob me of my protein. There's
not an ounce of fat on any of us. It looks appropriate on the face of a
giant man I learn is a death giant. He's huge, as black as pitch, and all
bone, sinew, and exposed teeth. He's supposed to look like death. A human
guy like me? Not so much.

      "They only give you meat," the death giant says, settling in next to
me during lunch. He's nine feet tall and smells of unwashed body; I'm dirty
but will never smell like him. It has to do with my Atlantean
physiology. My sweat simply doesn't stink. "It puts muscle on bone," the
giant continues. "That's all that matters." He flexes one arm and I swear,
the muscle that bulges is thicker than my whole thigh.

      I try to smile. "Before I was brought here, my master said there were
two other duties I could have done."

      "You are not a slave then?" The man grins and tears meat from a long
thin bone to chew on it for a while. "A thrall? You must be a seme, but no
seme is ever condemned to the mine. It's so rare. The other duties are so
easy. Most seme get fat because of them. What did you do?"

      "Nothing," I say, finishing my steak.

      He laughs. "No uke would send you here unless you displeased him. You
must have done something."

      "Honest," I say. "I've done nothing. But since you seem to know a lot
of what's going on around here, can you tell me what we're looking for? I
mean, why are we excavating all of this rock?"

      The death giant looks around and then lowers his massive head closer
to mine. "We're looking for a spaceship," he says.

      I blink uncomprehendingly. "What exactly is that?"

      "A metal ship, like those that sail the seas only this one sailed the
void between the stars. It carried Modru, god of murder, to this
world. That is what the mind lords seek. They search for the god of
murder's chariot, for they believe within is some secret that shall allow
them to rule the world of men."

      I swallow hard, thinking about what the death giant is saying. What's
the possibility that such a thing exists? And if it does exist, what's the
possibility that it contains something that would allow these squid faces
to emerge and conquer the world that gave birth to me? It's horrifying to
think that my unborn child could someday be enslaved by these terrible
creatures. Any monster capable of producing Eros and unleashing it into the
world is capable of a hundred things more dreadful and complex.

      At the end of my shift, a guard appears. He motions for me to set
down my pickaxe and to follow him. Covered in grime from the pit and sore
in just about every possible place, I stagger up the slope to where the
rail cart and the path await. Two more join the first guard and escort me
back to Talen who waits for me in the master's lair. As I pass through the
curtain of beads to greet him, I smell the scent of perfume aloft in the
air and catch a glimpse of his glittering eyes looking at me from under the
cowl of a fine silk robe, his hair neatly combed, and the nails on his
hands polished to perfection. I've never seen him look more lovely and
that's before he parts his robe, revealing a smooth nakedness beneath that
makes my jaw drop and my feet stop in their tracks. In one hand he carries
a golden circlet attached to a chain of similar make, and he motions for me
to approach so he can fasten it about my neck.

      "Welcome home, Kian," Talen says. "I've missed you."

                                  *****

I shall post Chapter 15 next week. Thanks for reading and sending
emails. If you'd like to write a story using any of my characters, just
send me a note asking permission. I'd love to read it.