DARK SUNSET by Mort

Book One: Part Seven

The four days after his delivery to the Imperator's quarters were long enough for Mulder to realize that in the pet stakes he had actually been fortunate in his choice of a master, even though he still felt he'd been decidedly unfortunate to be chosen as a Producer rather than a Stud. It wasn't that Mulder could even contemplate the idea of being a rapist rather than a rapee. It was simply that rebellious Studs were at least given the option of death.

Mulder learned from Jax that the Studs were kept in tiny open cages like animals. They were released only at the times when they were required to service a Producer and failure to perform that duty adequately was punished with brutal flogging. Despite the terrible indignity of being raped, it was undoubtedly physically easier for most men to suffer the pain of penetration than try to achieve an erection to perform a public rape. Mulder was fair enough to realize that Hearn was the exception rather than the rule. The Albrecx had no mercy for a Stud's failure but if he didn't perform at all, he would simply be 'put down' rather than put in the milking dormitory.

Materially, Mulder's life was undoubtedly better than a Stud's. Except when he was being milked, or fed, or the Imperator wished his company, Mulder was allowed to crawl back to his own room at Jax's heels and then the handler would usually leave him to sleep and perform his enemas in private. Those two tiny liberties were the only things that were keeping him sane in the midst of the otherwise public nature of his humiliation at the Albrecx's hands. 

At the same time, the relative freedom of those few hours alone kept the spark of his angry rebellion burning. The fact that he couldn't bring himself to replace the plug after his cleansing didn't help.  Each time Jax arrived to take him back to Krenzl's side, the Albrecx pinned Mulder down and opened him wide enough with the succession of dildos to re-insert Mulder's tail.  The humiliation of the experience was only increased by the fact that no matter how much he fought the procedure at first, by the time Jax had reached the largest dildo, Mulder was fucking himself with so much mindless pleasure that he would clench down to try and prevent the dildo being removed.

Each time Jax had to squeeze Mulder's balls and then practically wrench the toy out of his ass, Mulder was left so stunned and shamed by his own behavior that by the time they arrived in the dining hall he was doubly determined not to allow himself to perform the same way in public.

The anger allowed him to fight the Studs, even though they were just trying to give him a relief that he couldn't deny he was beginning to crave.

He knew that he wasn't alone in his mental rebellion and that it must be almost impossible for any of the other captives to accept their new roles in life either, yet somehow the others didn't *seem* to be struggling to behave as much as he was. Mulder was sure that there wasn't one of the Producers who wouldn't prefer death to becoming the Albrecx's sexual playthings. It was only the terrifying prospect of the living death of the milking dorm that kept any of them in line. Their good behavior was most likely due to the fact that their masters were less tolerant of mistakes than Mulder's was.

Yet, Mulder's struggles weren't because he knew Krenzl would find a way to excuse his behavior. They weren't even because he imagined they would do him any good. Even if he could have convinced the Albrecx to let him refuse the Studs, his own body wouldn't.  Between the narcotic effect of the food that Krenzl forced into his stomach twice a day and the almost constant ache in his swollen balls, Mulder was finding it harder and harder not to simply give in to his body's demand for sexual gratification.

Even so, he simply wasn't built for playing the role of submissive. He fought simply for the sake of his own pride. As long as he knew he had fought the rape, it remained a rape, and he could cling on to the anger which was all that remained of his tattered pride.

Although his head told him to play along with the aliens until he could find a way to escape the ship, his fists just wouldn't co-operate and his mouth alone would have gotten him killed the first time a Stud tried to touch him. One evening he had seen one of his fellow Producers flip out and refuse the advances of a Stud in the dining hall. His master hadn't attempted to persuade him to submit, he had simply summoned a guard to dismember and remove him. 

It had been a brutal but effective lesson. They were valuable, but not irreplaceable, and the price of the smallest rebellion was relegation to the Milking Dorm. With an entire planet full of men who could replace them, their position as "chosen" was tentative at best. Not one of the Producers had dared to do as much as flinch in front of their own masters since that night.

Except Mulder. He'd tried. He'd desperately tried to submit to the humiliation of being publicly raped every night by a progression of Studs. If only because the constantly growing pressure in his balls could only be relieved if he submitted to the rape and the alternative scenario, that of Krenzl extracting the essence 'naturally' was even more horrifying.

Even so, he'd fought every time. He'd only survived this long because the Imperator always found a way to blame the Stud when Mulder struggled.

Although Mulder always began submissively, a haunting picture of the milking dorm fixed clearly in his head, he couldn't help himself from beginning to panic when he felt the blunt head of a penis push against his fortunately well-stretched ass and in the wake of his fear would come a wave of anger so intense that he would strike out blindly at his attacker, no longer caring of the price he might pay for his rebellion. 

Yet, he never *did* pay a price. The Studs did. 

Because he'd reluctantly accepted Jax's advice enough to pretend that he found the Imperator attractive, Krenzl was more than willing to forgive his bad behavior. As long as Mulder had originally assumed position on the milking bench without protest, his subsequent struggles were then blamed on the Stud who was attempting to service him. It was the Stud who was then savagely beaten for causing Mulder's writhing, while Mulder could only guiltily watch another man being flogged simply for the sake of Mulder's own pride. 

This terrible guilt increased the pressure on Mulder to try to submit and he was sure that it was a deliberate tactic on the part of the Imperator. Mulder's fear of the milking dorm forced him to climb onto the individual milking bench that was fixed to the floor in front of Krenzl's chair, and then his guilt at causing his Stud to be beaten was slowly teaching him to keep in place during the rape. 

As the week had progressed, the ever growing ache in his expanding balls meant that by the time he was to be milked he was finding, to his own humiliated horror, that he was beginning to be almost desperate for the relief of the machine. Since it only worked if he was being penetrated, he realized he was beginning to fantasize about being fucked too.

Just the thought of the unbearable pain in his balls being eased made Mulder shuffle in excitement, then he flushed with shame as he realized the Vet's prediction had been correct. It had only been a week, and already Mulder couldn't think about anything more than his own sexual release.

Had he known that both the pre-digested food that was pumped into his stomach and the drug he was being injected with to increase his sperm production were also  powerful aphrodisiacs, Mulder's ability to mentally resist the alien conditioning would have been greater. He would have been able to see his body's behavior as being separate from his mind. 

As it was, believing he was becoming a slave of his own sexual needs, Mulder's self-confidence was quickly being eroded by his own self-loathing.

Jax had explained that studs were always sterilized before they serviced Producers and although Mulder wasn't sure exactly why it was considered necessary to do that (since it didn't affect sperm production and Producers could hardly become pregnant) it became clear to him that essence was useless to the Albrecx unless it was potent.

Since he couldn't think of a way to sterilize himself, Mulder became obsessed with the idea of self-castration. It was the only way he could think of that would both remove the constant agony in his balls and render him useless enough to the Albrecx that they would simply kill him for his defiance.

Mulder waited until Jax left him alone in his room on the third day, then twisted on his bed until he produced enough slack in the chains that bound his ankles and wrists through the cock ring to wrap a section of the chain around his swollen balls.

Then he yanked his legs downwards.

It was impossible to complete the movement. Not only did his legs instinctively draw back up as soon as the intense wave of pain hit him, but as soon as he screamed and passed out, his body went limp and passive around his abused groin.

If he'd still been capable of making true sounds, his scream of agony would have alerted Jax to his attempt at self mutilation. As it was, it was several hours before the young Albrecx discovered what he'd done.

Mulder's balls were so bruised they were almost black and they had swollen so much that the chain was biting into the flesh, restricting the blood flow. 

Fortunately for Jax, the vet not only decided that the injury was more painful than serious but also assumed that Mulder had done it accidentally while he slept.

Unfortunately for Mulder, it meant that from now on his chains were tightened before he was allowed to sleep to prevent any future 'accidents' and because the Albrecx were concerned that he'd paw constantly at the site of the injury the privilege of his two tiny privacies were removed.

The golden metal was cut off his wrists and replaced with soft cuffs. They still had metal loops that were soldered to the harness so that he couldn't stand up but now they were permanently locked behind his back whenever he didn't need to crawl.

It meant that Jax couldn't leave him alone to shower and cleanse himself anymore and if he *was* left alone, he could only shuffle awkwardly on his knees or curl up on the bed in misery. 

"Your new pet is badly behaved today," Bracx snapped irritably as Mulder's shuffling distracted his concentration from the Orntlec board.

"He's just going through the adaptation, Oubeflecx Bracx," Krenzl replied in the same High Caste dialogue so that Mulder wouldn't understand. "The vet's advised me to only allow his release once a day until the maximum growth is reached. It's unbearably painful, I think, and not helped by the fact he injured himself so badly yesterday. These humans are so much smaller than our usual cattle and are having to be adapted more to supply our needs, but the vet assures me that with these beasts, the more growth that is achieved between extractions, the more tractable they will become."

"I fail to understand why you have chosen this particular creature, Imperator. I've witnessed his performances in the Dining Hall. Any other beast would have been sent to the Milking Dorm days ago. You couldn't even silence him without surgery. I read the report of the Shrenztl interrogation. It seems that even the beast authorities couldn't make this one behave," Bracx pronounced, his eyes narrowing with distaste as he looked at where Mulder was kneeling. 

"Believe me, Imperator. You're wasting your time with this beast. He's never going to be fully tame. Just wait until he adapts to the drugs and he'll start showing his true colors. There's a certain expression in his eyes that tells me he'll never be domesticated. He's got too much spirit. He's obeying you out of fear and need, that's all. You'll never win the beast's affection or loyalty."

"Perhaps it is his strength of spirit that attracts me," Imperator Krenzl replied mildly. "The beast has honor, Bracx. It is a rare and precious thing to find in an animal. When he finally learns to love me, and he will, he will be a loyal and pleasing pet.  Haven't you noticed the way that he pretends to hate my touch, but takes every opportunity to *accidentally* rub himself against me. Or the way he can't take his eyes off me? He looks down quickly as soon as he realizes I've noticed and he pretends he's not doing it, but his eyes constantly follow me, Bracx, and it's not hatred that I'm seeing."

Bracx carefully slid his eyes sideward and down to observe the beast more closely. To his surprise, he realized the Imperator was right. Unaware he was being observed, the beast's eyes were fixed upwards towards Krenzl's face and his expression was a wistful look of combined fear and desire. As Bracx watched  the beast shifted again, "accidentally" brushed his shoulder against Krenzl's left Hrraus, and shivered with obvious pleasure. 

"I don't understand," Bracx admitted. "I agree he looks at you like a tame beast would but only behind your back while, to your face, he is defiant and disobedient."

"Pride," Krenzl chuckled. "He obviously is too ashamed of the depth of his attraction to admit it at all. *That's* why I persist with him. Because I know that the disobedience is only his way of trying to deny his own desire.  He's just a beast, remember. He can't possibly keep the behavior up. His emotions will win out in the end. I just need to give him a little more time to give in. It's well known that the ones that take the most time to break are the ones that give the most pleasure. Besides, he has a unique and quite delicious taste. When we dine tonight, you must taste him for yourself."

"Your generosity is greatly appreciated, Imperator," Bracx said, with a wide, ingratiating smile. 

Krenzl waved nonchalantly, although he was not truly happy about sharing his little pet's essence. Nevertheless, it was extremely bad form to be seen as dependant on the flavor of any individual cattle, no matter if it was a personal pet. He would make a point of sharing Mulder at the feast tonight lest anyone else was seeing him as being too fond of the little beast. He couldn't risk anyone thinking he had any special attachment to the creature, lest they suspected his true intentions.

He looked at where Mulder was shuffling uncomfortably and frowned deeply at the blackened bruised flesh of Mulder's injured groin.

"Kalpak," he called out to one of his attendants. "Fetch my pet a cushion."

Bracx just rolled his eyes at his leader's foibles and decided to keep his opinions to himself. He'd made every effort to talk Krenzl out of the mistake he was determined to make with the beast. He hadn't been fooled at all when Krenzl had decided to take a pet that needed to be muted.  He'd hoped that when he'd taken Henkan to the milking dorm for transfer to homeworld, the Imperator had learned his lesson about getting too attached to the beasts.

*That* was why natural extraction was so frowned upon. No matter how many reasons were given to make decent people believe that natural extraction of the essence was obscene, the truth was simply that it allowed the cattle to bind their masters to them. *That* was the true obscenity. Bracx had witnessed it too many times with lower caste Albrecx.  The beast and its master formed a sickening symbiosis where the master became as dependant on his pet for food as his pet was on its master.

A lot of younger Albrecx actually had begun to believe that it was the way things were meant to be. That rather than the Albrecx being designed to be masters, they were simply supposed to form a mutual bonding with a single beast. There was even a movement within homeworld that believed the beasts weren't animals at all, that their physical weakness was no more an excuse for treating them badly than a female Albrecx had the right to abuse her husband simply because he was smaller and weaker.

Those men didn't seem to understand that equating their own position to that of an animal's weakened their argument rather than strengthening it.

Unless, of course, the Imperator was stupid enough to add fuel to the fire by acting so inappropriately himself. It didn't matter that Krenzl was an idiot. He was a high caste idiot with a very influential wife. If anyone found out about his dalliance with beasts the whole society could be damaged.

Still, maybe he could find a way to use Krenzl's perversion to his own advantage *without* it becoming public knowledge.

So he said nothing more and simply hid his smile as the Imperator ordered that his pet be pampered outrageously.

Mulder gasped in shock as one of the Imperator's servants knelt down next to him, carefully lifted his genitals and slipped a soft velvet cushion between the swollen flesh and the top of his thighs. He flushed in embarrassment at the way it forced attention to his bruised, oversized scrotum and engorged penis, but the cool softness was too welcome for him to protest what he understood was meant to be a kindness.

Despite the slight relief of the cushion, the pressure in his balls was growing and by the time the Albrecx finished their board game, Mulder was continuously groaning, desperately trying to rub his ass against the back of his ankles in the hope of moving the plug in his ass against his prostate for relief. The soft tail that dangled from the plug just slid against his ankles, mocking his efforts because although the ridged plug was as wide as a fist, it only penetrated inwards for a few centimeters. 

Mulder knew it was designed only to keep his sphincter open and so didn't extend deep enough into his passage to offer any relief. The knowledge didn't stop him shuffling in hope of a miracle though.

It wasn't just his balls that hurt. His stomach was empty too and without the hazy contentment that always filled him along with Krenzl's regurgitated food, it was all he could do to remember Jax's instructions to cast loving glances Krenzl's way instead of darts of silent hate.

If Krenzl hadn't had a visitor, he'd have eaten hours earlier. Mulder had never been left unrelieved for so long and the pressure in his groin was now so unbearable that he was in danger of blacking out.

If he had been capable of speech he would have been howling and begging for relief. As it was, all he could do was rub his cheek up and down Krenzl's lower right tentacle in a desperate plea for attention. His balls were the size of apples now, the skin so taut across them that it threatened to split with every agonized move of his hungry ass. He was past caring whether Krenzl turned him upside down and fucked him with his tentacles. All he needed was relief before his groin exploded.

Krenzl was so pleased as Mulder finally gave in to his attraction and rubbed his body openly against his Hrraus for the first time, that he leaned down and petted the beast. It was only then that he noted the tears of agony silently slipping down his pet's face and, because he was feeling so flattered that Mulder had not only given in but had given in in front of Bracx, the Imperator decided Vet or no Vet, it was time to let the little beast relax. He didn't believe in torturing animals unnecessarily and Mulder's minor act of submission deserved a reward.

"Come, let's eat," he told Bracx with studied casualness, leaning down to unfasten Mulder's cuffs before rising to his feet and starting towards the door.

Mulder crawled after him as quickly as was possible despite the way it made his agonized balls swing between his thighs. If Krenzl ate then he would want the essence for desert and that meant Mulder's agony would be over for the day.

He didn't care any more than that. He no longer cared that he was crawling on his hands and knees down a crowded corridor, naked except for the ridiculous tail protruding from his plugged ass. He didn't even care that some anonymous Stud was going to publicly fuck his ass. All he wanted, needed, was the relief.

He was grateful, when he knelt in the dining room, that his soft cushion was replaced to ease the burn of his agonized balls. He checked furtively around the room and was pleased to note that none of the other producers had similarly caring owners, then he flushed with embarrassment as he realized how pathetic that thought had been.

Krenzl was causing this agony, so why the fuck should Mulder be grateful for the tiny consideration of the cushion? 

Yet he was. If you were going to be a pet, there was an advantage to having a pet-loving owner, and no matter how much it embarrassed him to admit it, Mulder was beginning to be sincerely grateful that, if he had to suffer this nightmare, it had been the Imperator who had chosen him.

As soon as the Studs were brought into the room, Mulder eagerly dove forward onto the milking device, opening his legs wide around the wings and relaxing his buttocks to facilitate the removal of his tail. 

He didn't even try to see the identity of the Stud who would service him, he just gasped in shock as the cold air flooded his exposed anal passage, then groaned in relief as his open hole was generously stretched with an unusually fat cock.

It was only as his Stud gained a rhythm with the milking device, his enthusiastic thrusts encouraged by the whip of his handler, that Mulder began to fully appreciate the reason he'd been in so much pain today. He's assumed the agony had been due to his attempted self-mutilation but as the delicious suction began on his cock and he exploded long and hard into the machine, he realized that his balls were so full of semen that he no sooner ejaculated than he hardened again.

Mulder's stud finally collapsed in exhaustion, no longer even attempting to avoid his handler's whip. Mulder keened in distress as the stud was dragged away, and Krenzl laughed in delight, his eyes sparkling as he looked fondly at his suddenly insatiable pet. It wasn't only that at this rate he would be able to share Mulder's essence tonight without feeling any personal deprivation. Krenzl realized that now Mulder was producing such a quantity of essence no one would notice if he started siphoning a little off himself.

Krenzl hated the bottled essence from the milking dorm. It had a metallic taste and was cold on the tongue. Admittedly it had the same mildly narcotic effect on his body as fresh essence, it still gave him that pleasant buzz of inebriation, but it simply tasted vile going down. Mulder's essence on the other hand had a heady, salt-sweet taste that was unique even through the tube of the personal milker. It was like the difference between a good wine and a second pressing.

The idea of extracting that essence himself and tasting it in its completely pure and natural form was intoxicating.

Krenzl watched in delighted anticipation as it took two replacement Studs before Mulder's cock failed to engorge again. He had shot so much essence into the milking device that his balls had reduced to a near normal size, although the skin of his scrotum was now hanging in loose folds around his shrunken testicles under the gaping invitation of Mulder's widely opened hole.

Krenzl smiled and visualized his entwined Hrraus writhing inside that dark heat, driving the little beast to a maddened frenzy while his Qwentcha stole the prize from Mulder's cock. He could picture Mulder's face flushed with passion, screaming in silent rapture as he was impaled on his master's Hrraus.  And for the first time he was convinced that Mulder *would* truly find the experience almost as enjoyable as he would.

His little pet might have spirit and fire, but he was also turning out to be as natural a slut as any other beast. Mulder wouldn't be able to fight Krenzl *and* his own body.

It wouldn't be more than another week or two before he'd be able to prove that to the little beast up close and very personally.

Mulder writhed and struggled desperately under the assault of a Stud who seemed hell-bent on driving him straight through the milking bench.

At the end of the second week, when Krenzl had finally decided his adaptation was sufficient, the vet had stopped injecting Mulder with the aphrodisiac drug. His essence was being 'milked' four times a day now, and because he was no longer suffering the agonizing pain in his balls, Mulder was finding it increasingly difficult to submit to the Studs at all, let alone brutal apes like the one currently attempting to rip him apart from the inside out. 

Mulder knew that Krenzl was under increasing pressure to replace him. He was aware that the Studs were being punished for his resistance, and that he himself was inevitably destined for the milking dorm. Yet, as the days of his captivity had progressed into weeks and it had become obvious that there *was* no possibility of escape, Mulder had come to a startling conclusion.

He'd begun to decide the Dorm was a better option than being a pet after all. He knew he'd suffer some initial agony but then he'd surely simply go insane. It wasn't as clean an escape as death, but at least he'd go down with some pride. The Albrecx might strip him of his limbs and his sanity, but Mulder himself would win. His relegation to the Milking Dorm as untamable after all, would be a blow to the pride of the Imperator himself.

He'd daily seen the hunger in Krenzl's eyes increase. The Imperator could barely keep his Qwentcha still now in Mulder's presence. Although he hadn't said anything, Mulder was convinced Jax had noticed it too because he was spending more time lubricating and stretching Mulder every time he prepared him to go to his master. The young Albrecx's increased concern over the state of his ass convinced Mulder that his initiation to *real* Albrecx rape was imminent.  

In an odd way it was Jax's attempts to protect him that drove Mulder to the decision that he couldn't cope anymore.

Although the constancy of his physical pain meant he'd long since lost the ability to think with any great coherence, Mulder understood his growing feelings of affection for his handler were a natural reaction. In this place of fear, pain and degradation he couldn't prevent himself from clinging emotionally to the only Albrecx who was kind to him. Sometimes he hated his feelings of dependence and gratitude to Jax but he never despised himself for having those feelings.

But every time Jax painstakingly prepared him to ensure that he survived his possible encounter with Krenzl, Mulder found himself worrying what would happen to Jax when Krenzl found him unsatisfactory.  He was sure he would be. Although he couldn't prevent himself from writhing like a slut for the studs, Mulder clung firmly to the belief that he would fight the Albrecx's attentions tooth and nail.

So when he found himself feeling guilty that Jax would probably suffer for not training him adequately, Mulder realized he was on the brink of some kind of nervous breakdown. He was losing touch with reality. Perhaps even going insane.

He decided that if he was going to go mad, he'd rather do it with at least a shred of dignity still in place. If he was going to become no more than a mindless alien toy then he was going to make them take him down by brute force rather than simply erode him piece by piece.

/And now's as good a time as any/ Mulder decided as he writhed on the milking bench under the Stud's assault.

The guy raping him had to be the size of an Albrecx judging by the feel of the monstrously proportioned cock that was pistioning inside his ass. It wasn't just the Stud's size that hurt though, it was the way he wielded his cock like a battering ram. He deliberately refused to keep a steady rhythm. Instead he kept changing pace as though determined to stop Mulder adjusting to his thrusts.

He'd made no attempt to even pretend Mulder might have feelings. Hell, the way he was pounding into Mulder's ass, it seemed the Stud wasn't even aware Mulder was alive. He was driving his cock into Mulder so brutally that instead of his thrusts helping Mulder to reach a mindless state of constant orgasm, the pain of the assault was muting the usual pleasure of the milking device.

Almost as though he knew *exactly* what he was doing, the Stud hit Mulder's prostate every time the onslaught of constant pain began to wither Mulder's erection, then as soon as the milking device resumed its suctioning the Stud seemed to deliberately avoid Mulder's prostate until the milking device stuttered again.

For the first time in days Mulder was self-aware enough during his rape to fight back.

Mulder bucked desperately, flailing his arms and then pistoning his elbows back savagely into the Stud's ribs. 

The Stud gave a grunt of surprised pain and punished Mulder with a particularly savage thrust.

"Do that again, you idiot, and I'll have to *really* hurt you," the Stud whispered in his ear.

Mulder's arms dropped back down to his sides in shock. It was the first time a strange Stud had spoken to him.

"Now, I need you to show those bastards how much you like it rough like this, okay?" the Stud purred into Mulder's ear.

Krenzl straightened in his chair. He could see that the big Stud was talking to his pet as he fucked him, and although he couldn't hear what was being said, he prayed it was something that would stop Mulder's fighting before any of the other Albrecx noticed his pet's disobedience.

Mulder shook his head in frantic denial and elbowed the Stud in the ribs again. The Stud retaliated by slapping the back of Mulder's head.

Krenzl growled but was so entertained and intrigued that he decided to witness Mulder's reaction to the blow before he had the Stud put down for striking his pet.

"For god's sake, Mulder," the Stud hissed. "That fucker that owns you didn't want me to be used as your Stud at all. He said I was too big for you and he's right. I am, and I'm sorry, but there's no way I can fuck you without it hurting, so I reckon the best thing is for us to make out that you like it rough." 

Mulder twisted his head around awkwardly in an attempt to glare up over his shoulder at the crazy bastard who seemed to think he was enjoying being ripped apart.

The Stud just gave him an apologetic shrug.

"Sorry. I started this wrong, didn't I? Hard to think with some alien stood behind me threatening to beat my ass raw. My name's Ken. The resistance sent me to be your contact. So could you please at least try and look like you're enjoying yourself, huh?" 

Krenzl sat on the edge of Mulder's bed and rubbed his huge hand fondly through his pet's wet hair. Mulder had been so exhausted by the time that the huge Stud had finished milking him that Jax had been forced to carry Mulder back to his room.

The Imperator had waited just long enough to be sure that his pet would have been cleansed and put to bed, then quietly announced that he was a little concerned about Mulder and would check on him himself.

"I've never seen you so enthusiastic about a milking, little beast. Sometimes I wish you could tell me what's going on in your head. Here I was thinking you were fighting the studs to try to prevent the milking, and now I realize you're simply one of those cattle who fight as part of their mating ritual. 

"I was worried about his size. I didn't want to risk you being torn. But now I can see that you prefer to be filled completely."

Mulder just stared at him with dull, confused eyes as though he didn't know why he'd enjoyed the experience himself.

"Bracx is quite furious that he didn't realize it himself. He found your performance tonight so intriguing that he's hoping his own little pet, the one who looks so much like a younger version of you, might have more in common with you than looks. I find myself very pleased with you, so I want you to be happy, little Mulder, I'll instruct the Stud handlers that you should only be serviced by the more primitive Studs from now on.

"I was going to have that beast put-down for striking you, instead I've told the handlers to use it for at least one of your milking sessions each day. Does that please you, little beast?"

Mulder attempted a smile. He couldn't afford not to. Although his stomach was churning at the thought of Ken's cock ever entering him again, he couldn't possibly risk not renewing contact with the resistance. Ken had promised that he'd never deliberately make it that painful again but it was still hard to voluntarily agree to take the risk. So his smile came out as more of a grimace but Krenzl seemed satisfied enough.

/Jesus. What fucking sadist decided my contact had to be hung like a freak show?/ Mulder thought bitterly. 

Yet, even though he was still aching where the huge cock had brutalized him, he admitted to himself that the whole D/s routine had made a crazy kind of sense. 

This 'Ken' must have voluntarily come into this hell-hole just to be his contact. It was an unbelievably brave thing for anyone to have done at all, since there had been no guarantee that he'd even have the opportunity to even get near Mulder. By choosing someone so abnormally big, the Resistance, whoever they were, had obviously taken a calculated risk that if Mulder agreed to pretend he preferred to be fucked by sadists with huge dicks, Ken would be chosen to become one of his regular Studs.

How the hell anyone on the surface had even figured out the relationship between Producers and Studs, let alone Mulder's position as the Imperator's own pet, was completely beyond him. It suggested that the resistance had a way of gathering information from within the Mothership, but Mulder couldn't even begin to imagine how that was possible.

The plan they'd devised to get to Mulder was clever, and it had panned out, but even so Mulder decided that the day he met whoever had assigned Ken to fuck him, he'd insert something so fucking big in the bastard's own ass that his intestines would end up in his throat.

"Your behavior tonight has proven that you're ready for me to take our relationship a little further," Krenzl murmured.

Mulder flinched and cowered back. 

"Not at this moment, silly beast," Krenzl laughed. "It will be hours before you can make it an enjoyable experience for me."

One of his huge hands squeezed Mulder's drained ball-sac significantly.

"I'll tell your handler that I think you need an extra feeding session tomorrow morning to restore your energy after tonight's milking. I always breakfast alone so we'll have a little privacy to get to know each other better."

Krenzl tweaked the tip of Mulder's cock, gave him a benign smile and left the room.

You fucking bastards. Your stupid game has just thrown me right into his hands,  Mulder cursed, as tears of combined hurt and anticipated humiliation poured down his cheeks. Wherever the resistance were, he could only pray that they were feeling fucking guilty for using him like this.

"Ken's made contact," the younger man said, with a self-satisfied grin.

Frohike flinched, understanding only too well what that meant. He tried not to think of Mulder. Tried to forget that he was doing this to a man he considered a real friend. Just because he'd always been forced to play a role in front of Mulder it didn't mean his affection for the Special Agent hadn't been genuine. He both liked and respected Mulder.

Unfortunately, it was his respect for Mulder's intelligence and bravery that was forcing Frohike to use him so badly. No one else was in such a potentially useful position on any of the alien ships and Mulder was also one of the only people who might survive the horrors he was going through with enough sanity left intact to still be of use to the resistance.

"Looks like you were right about a possible bonus side-effect of Ken being so big," the dark-haired man continued. "Ruger got word to his contact that the Imperator *is* probably about to make a serious political error."

Frohike frowned. Ruger was just a kid. If he hadn't looked so much like Mulder they would never have risked using him. It sickened Frohike to think of the way the youngster was being treated by his Albrecx master, Bracx, but he was proving an unbelievable asset. Bracx had so low an opinion of his 'beast's' intelligence that he constantly used him as a wailing wall for his thoughts.

It was almost as good as having a recording device in Bracx's quarters and since the Oubeflecx seemed to be so offended by the Imperator's perversion  that he was at least 'talking' about a possible military coup, the resistance hadn't been able to turn down a chance to drive the wedge deeper between Bracx and Krenzl.

It had been Frohike's own idea that the Imperator might be pushed into acting on his forbidden impulses faster if he saw Mulder react positively to Ken's brutal assault. He would have been pleased with himself for the success of his plan if he hadn't felt so guiltily nauseous. 

"Ruger said Bracx is furious because Krenzl has arranged for Mulder to join him at a private breakfast this morning. He is positive that it's just a way to indulge his perversion.  We'll be able to check for ourselves because Ken's scheduled to do Mulder's first official milking today.  Between an Albrecx and Ken on the same morning, the poor bastard's going to get split in two."

Frohike glared at the amusement in his contact's cool green eyes.

"If you don't wipe that smug grin off your face, I'll send you up there on the next infiltration and believe me, you're FAR too pretty to end up a Stud."

He enjoyed the way the younger man's cheeks paled a little.

"Mulder's a hero of the resistance, even if he doesn't know it yet. Just because I'm prepared to sacrifice him for the greater good, don't ever imagine it's not breaking my heart to do it. Don't *ever* laugh about his pain in front of me again. Quite apart from the way it offends me, it doesn't fool me either. I know *exactly* how you really feel about him."

To Frohike's satisfaction, the young man's face went ashen and he had to look away to regain his composure. When he did finally speak, the young man's voice was quiet and dangerous.

"You're right. I *do* care about him. I'm laughing because if I don't, I think I'm going to explode. And because I can't rip Krenzl's face off, I'll probably settle for yours. Do you really think I don't know why the Imperator picked Mulder? It was your doing. You're the one who convinced the would-be colonists that he was so dangerous. You made sure that when the Albrecx arrived the name of Mulder would be irresistible. You *wanted* him to be the one on board that ship."

"He's our best hope," Frohike agreed calmly.

"When this is all over, I'm going to kill you for doing this to him," the dark-haired man promised.

"If I survive, if it ever IS all over, I suspect I might save you the bother," Frohike replied quietly. "Don't slam the door as you leave."

"I would taste you, little beast," Krenzl purred.

Mulder swallowed nervously.  He knew that Krenzl was suggesting was contrary to all the rules of the high caste Albrecht. 

Yesterday he would have outright refused, preferring the milking dormitory to the pain and humiliation. It probably wouldn't have stopped Krenzl from simply taking him by force but he would have gone down fighting, with his pride intact.

Now he was horribly aware that Ken was sitting in a Stud cage simply because he'd volunteered to be Mulder's contact with the resistance. And if the resistance, whoever they were, thought Mulder was potentially useful enough to them to have sacrificed Ken to the Albrecx just to make contact, it now seemed more cowardly than brave to refuse Krenzl's attentions.

Besides, the fact that the resistance knew he was a 'Producer' proved he was already known to have whored himself to the Albrecx. It didn't matter that his only other choice had been the dorm. Mulder's main regret was that he hadn't taken the option while he'd had the chance. Now it seemed too late to try and protect his pride. If people on the surface were already aware of what he'd done to survive so far, he didn't have any pride left worth saving.

Telling himself that he'd had Krenzl's inner Qwentcha down his throat enough times now that it made little difference whether Krenzl now stuck an appendage in a difference orifice for a change, Mulder gulped back his nausea, then leant down and submissively kissed the end of Krenzl's Qwentcha.

Krenzl sighed happily and relaxed, sitting back in his chair and gesturing that Mulder should continue. 

Mulder sucked at the gaping mouth of the Qwentcha as though he was inviting Krenzl to feed him, but instead of the inner Qwentcha emerging, the inside of the tentacle filled with bitter juices that coated the inside of Mulder's mouth with a greasy substance that slipped down his throat like warm slime. 

Just as he was beginning to gag, the tentacle unraveled and blindly sought Mulder's groin, swallowing his penis in its gaping mouth and sliding down until it was snuggly wrapped over Mulder's swollen ball sac.

Mulder raised himself on his knees, opened his legs as wide as the chains would allow and then reached back to remove the plug from his ass to enable Krenzl to slide his right Hrraus inside. He gasped in pain as the thick organ snaked inside him, stretching and filling him until he thought he would be ripped apart. Then the tentacle began to ripple and undulate inside him, sending waves of liquid fire through his body and he arched in surprised ecstasy as Krenzl simultaneously massaged his prostate and suctioned his cock.

Mulder didn't have to fake his pleasure at the multiple sensations that assaulted his body.

Shit, I'm really fucked up, he told himself as his body thrummed with delight. I'm being raped by an alien and all I can think about is how good his fucking tentacle feels up my ass.

Only there was no point denying it. There was no comparison between the milking bench and a stud and the sensations Krenzl was creating in his body. Mulder had the sickening realization that Jax had been right when he'd said this was the natural way for a Producer to service an Albrecx. He wasn't even aware that he was coming inside the Qwentcha because his whole body felt like it was experiencing a full-blown orgasm. He was shuddering and writhing so much with the unbearable pleasure that Krenzl was having to pin his shoulders to keep him upright.

"More, little pet?" Krenzl crooned, as Mulder's eyes rolled back in his head.

Mulder could only nod desperately. It seemed impossible that anything else could fit inside him yet the moment Krenzl offered more, Mulder was abruptly aware that he was still not completely filled and he bounced expectantly on the tentacle that was impaling him, bracing himself as the Imperator slowly slid his other Hrraus inside.

At first the pain was unbelievable as Mulder was stretched so wide that, although the skin of his ass barely tore, he could feel his pelvic bone straining under the pressure. But even though he was so agonized by the stretch that he suspected one of his hips had actually dislocated, the intense pain was not as overwhelming as the sheer wave of almost unbearable pleasure he felt as the two organs rippled and writhed inside him, completely rearranging his insides and it was that pleasure that ripped through his mind and stole his consciousness.

He collapsed over Krenzl's Qwentcha in a dead faint.

Krenzl continued to drain his unconscious body dry, then withdrew his Hrraus carefully, one at a time.  He frowned slightly at the faint smear of blood on the floor and decided he'd have to change Mulder's tail to an even wider version since the little beast was obviously insufficiently dilated by his current one. He didn't want the vet asking any questions about tears.

For the same reason he took advantage of Mulder's unconsciousness and forced the dislocated hip back into its socket.  His action was enough to bring Mulder back to consciousness with a pained yelp.

"Sorry, little one," Krenzl apologized to the tear-filled eyes of his pet.  "I got a little carried away by your enthusiasm. You just taste so wonderful like this. I didn't mean to hurt you. I want you to enjoy playing with me like this."

Mulder just bit his lower lip and looked away, unsure whether he was more distressed over the pain or because he couldn't deny that it had felt so damned good. 

"Here, let me feed you now," Krenzl said kindly. "It will make you feel better."

Mulder was unable to cope with how he was feeling, he was torn between pride that he had done this 'for the resistance' and shame that he had let himself enjoy it.

Suddenly wanting nothing more than the temporary narcotic haze the alien was offering him, Mulder passively opened his mouth and invited Krenzl inside.

Go to PART EIGHT