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DARK SUNSET by Mort Book One: Part Eight
When Krenzl summoned Jax to collect Mulder from his breakfast room it was immediately obvious to the younger Albrecx what had happened. Although Krenzl had been careful to replace Mulder's tail and the little beast was curled on the floor at the Imperator's feet with a spaced out smile on his face, Jax could see a small smear of blood leaking from the edges of the plug and Mulder's right hip was shadowed as though a deep bruise was pushing its way up to the surface. "I've accidentally overfed him," Krenzl stated blandly, although his eyes were sharp and dangerous as he scanned Jax's face. "I'm afraid he needs to be carried home." It was obvious to Jax that Krenzl had deliberately overdosed Mulder to compensate for the damage he had done the little beast. He would have put the Imperator's action down to a simple need to cover his tracks, yet since the drugged beast was now blissfully snuggled against Krenzl's legs, his head pillowed on Krenzl's Qwentcha, Jax had the distinct impression that Krenzl was as concerned with Mulder's comfort as he was with the need for secrecy. It put Jax in an awkward position. He couldn't fail to notice the damage Mulder had suffered because Mulder needed medical attention and Krenzl obviously didn't want the beast to suffer. On the other hand, if Jax took Mulder to the vet it would betray the Imperator's actions. The dangerous glint in Krenzl's eyes warned him that that the Imperator knew exactly what position he had put Jax in by summoning him, and Jax swallowed nervously as he understood that this was a test of his loyalty. It wasn't only his position as Mulder's handler that was hanging on the balance of his answer now. It was most probably his life. It wouldn't be the first time someone had suffered an 'unfortunate' transporter accident when leaving the Imperator's presence. Jax was frightened, but not surprised. He'd come here this morning expecting to find himself in an awkward situation and had already rehearsed a speech. Now all he needed to do was amend it to fit Mulder's particular injuries. "I believe it's my fault, your highness," Jax said humbly. Krenzl gave a small satisfied smile and flicked his hand to encourage Jax to continue. "He's such a small beast that it must be difficult to judge how much nourishment he requires. Particularly when he used so much energy at the milking session last night." Krenzl nodded encouragingly. "But his extreme reaction to the nourishment is because pain lowers a beast's resistance to its narcotic effects. I must confess that due to my ignorance as a trainer I underestimated Mulder's fragility," Jax continued carefully. "He was slightly damaged by the particularly large Stud who serviced him last night. When I helped him cleanse himself I noticed a little tearing and possibly some damage to his hip. I decided the damage was minor but I still should have reported it to yourself or the vet straight away. I apologize for not doing so." "It is unfortunate that my pet appears to require the servicing of the larger studs to facilitate his milking," the Imperator replied, his mouth twitching with sly amusement. "I expect that he may frequently suffer a little minor damage as a result. You must keep a close eye on him but there's little point in you running to report every bump and scrape to the vet immediately. I think your decision to wait and see if it healed by itself was reasonable. Though I imagine Ronxil will probably see it differently. No matter, I am the beast's owner and you work for me." Jax nodded, understanding that his offer had been accepted. If Mulder was ever injured by Krenzl enough to require treatment, Jax would claim the injuries had happened *before* Mulder had visited the Imperator and he had simply failed to report them immediately. Even so, the Imperator was still looking at him with less than friendly eyes. The lingering suspicion on Krenzl's face confused him, until he remembered an old adage of his father; 'Never trust one who sets no price because the unspoken price is the highest of all.' Of course. Krenzl expected him to set a price for his loyalty. "I appreciate you understanding, your highness. On reflection, I believe my preparation of your pet has been inadequate. Since he *is* so much smaller than previous cattle I feel he needs far more preparation than I have previously allowed for. I think he needs far more attention than I have been giving him." "In what way?" Krenzl asked, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. "Obviously he is inadequately dilated for the studs he prefers," Jax stated blandly. "Obviously," Krenzl agreed coolly. Jax bit his lower lip nervously, then took the plunge. He knew there was no way Krenzl would allow him to actually taste Mulder, but an agreement that he could 'play' with the little beast would not only be a substitute of sorts but it would ensure that Mulder became accustomed enough to Hrraus play that he'd be far less likely to be injured by Krenzl. "I do not wish to offend your sensibilities, your highness, but on my family's farm we have raised Producers for the lower castes for many generations. I am experienced in training a beast to its *full* potential. I believe some of those training methods might benefit your pet, in view of its small size." "Forget my sensibilities," Krenzl snapped. "Explain yourself fully." "I believe that no artificial device is as useful a dilating tool as a Hrraus, your majesty. The warmth and flexibility is far more comfortable for the beast and it is far easier to judge what I am doing inside him. " "I trust you are *only* suggesting you touch him with your Hrraus?" Krenzl demanded suspiciously. "Of course, Imperator. I am no thief. I would never take something that is not mine to take." Krenzl chewed over Jax's words. He didn't like to think of his pet writhing with pleasure at Jax's touch, although it never bothered him at all to see Mulder squirm under a stud's attentions. He assumed the difference was that Jax was a person rather than an animal. Still, the pet *had* to be trained and at least if Mulder showed any damage that could be attributed to a Hrraus by the vet, Krenzl could always blame Jax's training methods. All in all it was a small price to pay for Jax's loyalty, and when the trainer abused his permission and stole Mulder's essence, Krenzl would have an excuse to execute him. He couldn't see Jax managing *not* to taste Mulder. Once you had a taste for fresh essence you couldn't just switch the urge off. Krenzl knew that to his own cost and unlike the soldiers who grouped together to buy communal providers, a low caste Albrecx like Jax never had the opportunity to taste a Producer. For someone like Jax who had evidently grown up with access to live essence, the deprivation had to be traumatic. After the Harvest, when he'd have to give Mulder up to the dorm, Krenzl would have to get rid of Jax permanently anyway. This way Krenzl would not only keep Jax's temporary loyalty but would gain a more pleasing pet AND solve the problem of ensuring Jax's long term silence. "Very well," Krenzl agreed. "You *are* his trainer so I will defer to your expertise in this matter. I suggest you take him for cleansing now. His first milking session is scheduled in just over two hours." "Will it be with the same stud?" Jax asked. "I believe so," Krenzl said idly. "You may as well wait until afterwards to call the vet." Jax gave a reluctant nod and hoped that Mulder's state of narcotic haze would last long enough to help him through the milking. He carried Mulder back to his room, removed the plug and swore at the severe swelling of Mulder's anal passage. Krenzl had really gotten carried away. It surprised Jax. He hadn't thought the Imperator would risk damaging his pet that badly. He carefully lubricated one of his own Hrraus and slipped it inside the damaged beast. He hadn't been lying when he'd told Krenzl that a Hrraus was the best tool for handling cattle. A Hrraus was so sensitive that he could almost 'see' through it's nerve endings. He could sense every millimeter of bruised or abraded flesh and mentally catalogued the damage so that he could manually program Mulder's cleansing device to treat the injuries. The poor beast was wriggling with excitement as he worked, too doped to truly understand what was going on but instinctively attempting to fuck himself on Jax's Hrraus. He groaned and whimpered when Jax withdrew his warm caress, keening and swaying his buttocks suggestively. "Sorry, little beast. You're so drugged that you can't feel any pain at the moment. But, believe me, in a couple of hours you'll be damned glad I'm not giving in to your invitation." Jax stripped off his uniform and carried the still moaning Mulder into the shower. It wasn't until the cleansing device had fully activated and entered its vibration cycle that Mulder stopped whimpering and returned to a swaying trance of pleasure as the device gently massaged a healing ointment into every crevice of his anal passage. Satisfied that the beast would happily remain impaled on the warm, soothing vibrator until he returned, Jax decided he may as well return to his room for a couple of hours more sleep.
Jax overslept a little and, by the time he returned, the pre-programmed cycle had already completed and Mulder was sitting, still a little stoned, in the middle of the shower dreamily playing with his oil-drenched balls. "You're supposed to massage *all* the oil in," Jax chided softly, climbing into the shower and rubbing the glistening oil into the muscles of Mulder's back. Mulder quivered and arched his back in pleasure, moving one of his hands to his cock and pulling on it frantically. "NO," Jax snapped, slapping Mulder's hands then pulling them up to his nipples instead. "I told you, you can't get relief from your groin. You'll just hurt yourself." The beast looked at him with wide, confused eyes but obediently started to pull and tweak his nipple rings. It worried Jax that Mulder's eyes were still almost fully dilated. He reached down and rubbed the still prominent bulge of Mulder's abdomen. "Damn him," Jax cursed. "Doesn't he realize how dangerous it is to overfeed you this much?" He checked the time. He didn't have long before Mulder was due at his milking session but he couldn't see the little beast managing to even crawl there in this state, let alone mount the bench and it would cause unwanted speculation if Jax had to carry him there. Deciding he had no choice, Jax called Ronxil. "He's done WHAT?" the vet demanded incredulously. "He's accidentally overfed him," Jax admitted nervously. "Probably because the beast's so much smaller than he's used to." "He's been managing alright for the last week," Ronxil snapped. "This is typical of the High Castes. They do something stupid and then it's MY job to put it right. If the beast's ill it's going to be MY fault, no doubt." "He's not ill," Jax pointed out hastily. "He's just completely stoned and his stomach's still so swollen that I expect the state's going to last for hours yet." "You can't do anything about what's already in his bloodstream but if you void him he'll begin to neutralize the effects. Make him vomit the rest of the food out," the vet suggested. Jax paled. He'd never been good with *that* side of looking after animals. "Do you need me to come and do it?" Ronxil demanded impatiently. Jax wanted to say yes, but he couldn't afford to let the vet see Mulder. Although the cleansing device had reduced most of the beast's anal swelling, the bruise on his hip was turning black. "I'll be fine," Jax choked. "Good," Ronxil said dryly, "because since the Imperator doesn't take kindly to criticism neither of us can mention this to him, so the chances are it will happen again. You may as well get used to the procedure." "How?" Jax said weakly. "The simplest way to inspire a gag reaction in beasts is usually to press something into their throats. It rarely works with Producers though because they are so used to being fed by Qwentcha that their gag reaction rarely cuts in. I'd suggest you just sucked it out, but knowing you it would be *you* who ended up vomiting. I'll send something to the replicator in your room. It's a strong drug so be careful not to give him too much. Three drops in a glass of water should do it." "How quickly?" Jax asked, worriedly checking the time again. "Put it this way. Give it to him in the shower and as soon as he's swallowed it, run like hell," Ronxil sniggered.
To Jax's considerable relief, the Vet was right. Apart from the necessity to give Mulder another shower, the medicine worked so quickly that by the time he leashed Mulder to leave the beast had not only begun to regain a little color but the confused blankness of his face was slowly being replaced by self-awareness. For all of Mulder's intractability, Jax was relieved to see the intelligence begin to return to his eyes. At the same time, he was equally relieved that Mulder was still far from alert. Between the anesthetic properties of the healing gel and the remaining intoxication, Mulder was unlikely to be too uncomfortable when he was milked. Jax, like any Albrecx, thoroughly enjoyed watching an enthusiastic Stud at work. He loved watching a Producer get a good work-out on a milking bench. What he couldn't stand though was when a Producer actually got injured. If a Producer began to associate the milking benches with pain rather than pleasure, they naturally began to resist the necessity of the milking and became inevitable that they'd end up in the milking dorm. The fact that they all *did* eventually end up there anyway was a thought Jax wasn't prepared to contemplate. He was angry when Mulder willingly climbed onto the milking bench and was rewarded by the arrival of the same big stud that had serviced him the night before. He knew that the Imperator had done it deliberately to cover his tracks, and Jax didn't have the power *or* the nerve to interfere under the circumstances but the knowledge didn't stop him feeling a little sick as the grotesquely proportioned Stud was leant forward. So he signaled to the animal's handler and the Stud was brought over for his inspection. He made a point of being rough as he grabbed the animals genitals and mauled them as though checking for infection. It was his right as Mulder's handler to do so, so nobody paid him any attention. "I cleansed him thoroughly, Sir," the Stud's handler assured him, obviously nervous that his charge was to service the Imperator's own pet. "Did you give him a thorough blood test too?" Jax demanded haughtily. "Yes, sir," the handler assured him. "Let me see it," Jax growled. The handler paled. "It was clean, Sir. I didn't bring it." "Then fetch it," Jax snapped. "I am responsible for the Imperator's property. I have to see the paperwork for myself." The handler gaped at him in surprise, then shrugged and rushed from the room to collect the test results. As soon as the handler left and Jax was sure no one else was close enough to overhear, he tightened his cruel grip on Ken's cock. "I saw you last night," he hissed. "I saw *exactly* what you did to Mulder. If you hurt him like that again I'm going to come to your cell later today and hurt you so badly that you won't be able to walk for a week. Do you understand me, beast?" "Yes," Ken yelped, as Jax's fingers bit into his flesh. "He's sore. VERY sore. You'll do your job properly, but if you cause him any unnecessary pain, I am going to demonstrate to you exactly how it feels to have your ass ripped apart." Jax checked no one was looking in their direction and snaked one of his Hrraus around Ken's body. The Stud's eyes widened in shock as he felt the warm tip of the tentacle press against his anus and push slowly inside. The tapered tip was no thicker than two fingers, so though he gasped with discomfort, it took a few seconds before it really began to hurt. By the time Jax had penetrated several inches, Ken's anus was so widely stretched that he would have been screaming if Jax wasn't holding his throat so tightly that he could barely breathe. Jax withdrew and released his grip of Ken's neck, leaving the Stud choking for breath. "Every time you thrust into the little beast, just remember how that felt, animal," Jax growled. Ken was still blinking in disbelief when his handler returned proudly clutching the test results. He could feel tiny trickles of blood seeping down his thighs from where the rough ridges of the Albrecx's tentacle had torn the soft membrane of his ass and it hurt like hell. Yet instead of being horrified by what had just happened, he was elated. Frohike *had* been right about Mulder after all. From the moment Ken had arrived on the Mothership, he'd been convinced that his sacrifice had been a huge mistake. Since the Albrecx saw humans as nothing more than disposable cattle, it had seemed impossible that Mulder would survive long enough to be any use anyway. Just a week of servicing Producers had taught Ken that Producers had a shorter life-expectancy than Studs did. Many of the Albrecx seemed to swap and change their personal pets practically every time a new arrival took their fancy. In just one week he had noticed that several of the Albrecx had had a new pet at their feet almost every night and Ken had never seen any of the discarded pets again. With a whole planet of candidates to chose from, the odds of any of the original selections remaining in favor for the whole occupation seemed lower by the day. Yet, somehow Agent Mulder had not only retained his position as the Imperator's pet for over a fortnight. He'd also obviously turned one of the alien's into his champion. The fact that that same champion was threatening to turn his bowels inside out was admittedly terrifying, but Ken had never expected to survive this mission anyway. As long as he survived long enough to establish communications between Mulder and Frohike, he would have succeeded in his mission. Ken's handler was less sanguine about Jax's petty display of power. He took out his frustration on Ken by unnecessarily whipping his charge over to Mulder's bench. The stinging welts across Ken's buttocks just increased his erection. Despite, or perhaps because, of his immense size Ken had always been the bottom in relationships. Frohike had chosen him for the mission because he was well aware of Ken's active participation in D/s relationships. Ken knew that Mulder wasn't as fortunate as himself, that he was unlikely to find any pleasure in sexual pain, but between the adaptations the Alien's had made to Mulder's body and Ken's own understanding of how it felt to be in Mulder's position, he was confident that he'd be able to help Mulder survive the experience long enough to do what the resistance needed of him. Sensing Jax's burning eyes on him, Ken ignored the way his handler was trying to force him to hurry and was deliberately careful as he removed the obscene butt plug from Mulder's ass. As soon as he saw the swollen flesh he understood the Albrecx's concern (though he still could barely believe one of the aliens was even capable of concern). Still, as he slid his well-lubed cock inside the hot flesh, Mulder gave a moan that was unmistakably passionate rather than pained. It was only as he began a firm but gentle rhythm that caused the milking device to engage, and he felt the wild contractions of Mulder's ass squeezing him with obvious enthusiasm that he really understood why the Albrecx had been so concerned. Although it was impossible to tell for sure without seeing Mulder's face, Ken became convinced that Mulder was drugged. The body beneath him was not only reacting purely on instinct, but Mulder appeared to be in no discomfort at all. So it was up to Ken not to take advantage of Mulder's mindless enthusiasm. That wasn't hard. Despite what the Albrecx thought, he *wasn't* an animal. He was well aware that giving in to Mulder's current enthusiasm would just cause Mulder increased pain when the drugs wore off. Ken's only real problem was that he was going to have to report today as a failure. There was no point in talking to Mulder while he was out of his head. Still, at least he could pass on the good news about the protective Albrecx.
"You think *you've* got it bad?" Ken asked the next day when he returned for Mulder's morning
milking again and found to his relief that whatever substance Mulder had been
doped with the day before had apparently worn off. "I'm being kept in a cage, like they think I'm a dog or something. I
have to shit where I sleep, then I get hosed down in freezing water before I'm
brought here, just in case I give the Imperator's *pet* an infection." Ken realized that as long as he continued to hump against
Mulder hard enough to maintain the flow of essence but not brutally enough to
damage, they would presumably be left alone to talk. Or, more accurately, for
Ken to talk and Mulder to listen. If Mulder had been still capable of laughing, he'd have erupted into hysterical giggles at Ken's comment. It was less than three hours since he'd had his second encounter with Krenzl's personal version of breakfast in bed. The Imperator had been far more careful that morning, restricting himself to only one Hrraus and only taking enough essence to take the edge off the ache in Mulder's balls. As a result he'd also only given Mulder a small snack in return. So Mulder wasn't only sober this morning, he also had a clear memory of his own behavior this time. Mulder couldn't imagine anything more docile than the way he had eagerly thrust himself up and down on Krenzl's Hrraus. Except perhaps the way he had literally burst into frustrated tears when the Imperator had cut the session short. He'd discovered there was something actually worse than not being milked; the sensation of being partially milked. Once the flow of essence had started, the pain of it being abruptly cut off was agonizing. Pride had been impossible in the circumstances. As soon as Krenzl had detached his Qwentcha, such an agonizing pressure had begun to build up inside Mulder's scrotum that he had shamelessly writhed on the Hrraus that was still embedded in his ass, attempting to drive it deeper inside himself. Head thrown back in passion, he'd put on a show for Krenzl. He'd rocked up and down on the Hrraus, his hands tugging and twisting his nipple rings, his angry cock tight against his heaving abdomen. Even when Krenzl had chortled and called him a shameless little slut Mulder hadn't been able so stop his desperate attempt to entice the Albrecx to continue the milking. Although his cheeks had flooded with heat and a voice in the back of his head had been screaming at him to stop, he'd continued to entertain his master until Krenzl had finally taken enough pity on him to give him a small dose of the mind-clouding nutrition. Although it made Mulder nauseous every time he thought about the fact that Krenzl was feeding him regurgitated food from his own body, whenever he was hungry the nourishment the Albrecx offered became the only food Mulder craved. And it was a craving, as bitterly addictive as the milking benches. Perhaps for the same reason. The milking temporarily took away the pain, and the drug-like food temporarily dulled his feelings of self-hatred. After the previous day's massive overdose though, Mulder had struggled to regain his equilibrium. The down had been so severe after such a high that he hadn't been able to cope with the withdrawal. He'd been left in the same shivering, shaking agony as someone attempting to come off heroin. Twice in the last 24 hours he'd had to make Jax give him a 'snack' between his feeding sessions with Krenzl. He'd become a whore. He'd twice willingly squirmed and danced on Jax's own Hrraus in exchange for a little of the drugged food. Ken was busy trying to convince him to "play nice" with the Imperator, because he obviously imagined Mulder was still managing to fight the aliens. The truth was that Mulder couldn't even manage to fight his own body anymore.
Krenzl was getting such a thrill out of his illicit pleasure that it almost made his boredom with the debate bearable. His pet was trying to behave but the little beast was sheened with sweat, occasionally couldn't choke back a muted yelp and would have been pawing his groin and eagerly bouncing up and down if Krenzl hadn't tightened Mulder's harness so tightly that he couldn't move at all. Again, the shortened chains weren't evident to an onlooker. As far as Krenzl's visitors were concerned the pet was sitting obediently and his perspiration and occasional moan was no more than an involuntary expression of his need to be milked. Krenzl knew he was being a little mean, but he considered it no more than harmless teasing as a prelude to milking the beast himself. He had deliberately 'forgotten' to arrange for Jax to collect Mulder for his midnight milking session. There was a shift change in the Stud barracks at one am so the earlier shift would assume he'd summoned Studs for his pet after they went off duty and the later shift would assume he'd already done so.
He was so convinced that Mulder would be ecstatic to have his personal attention
twice in one day that he felt justified to make him earn the privilege. He was
enjoying his mild teasing of the little beast so much that it never even occurred
to him that Mulder might actually be listening to every word spoken over his bowed,
miserable head. Unfortunately, Krenzl's affection tended to be a little bizarre, like his current dangerous ass play. Mulder had little doubt that the only person really at risk was himself. If anyone realized what was going on, the Imperator might be given a serious talking to but Mulder would probably not only get the blame but also instant relegation to the milking dorm. It wasn't that Krenzl didn't *like* him. In the week since Krenzl had begun to indulge his secret vice, Mulder was beginning to be worryingly convinced that Krenzl's feelings for him were starting to border on obsession. Particularly since Krenzl kept calling him 'little slut' rather than 'little beast'. The odd thing was that Mulder was pretty sure Krenzl meant it to be an affectionate term but there was something decidedly unhealthy about the look in Krenzl's eyes when he said it. Something obsessive. Something possibly not quite sane. Just as playing this game with him in public was not only cruel but pure insanity for a man in Krenzl's position. It made Mulder positive that Krenzl's rank was something he had been born to, rather than something he had earned. As far as Mulder could see, for all of the Imperator's power, he
was petty, cruel in an almost childish way and wasn't even particularly intelligent. Then again, as the days passed, Mulder was beginning to
realize that despite their incredible technology, *none* of the
Albrecx on the ship, with the possible exception of the Vet and Jax, were particularly bright. "You're an enchanting little slut," he'd told Mulder the day before. "So enchanting I can't stop myself forgiving you for your corrupting sluttish ways. I should be angry with you, but I'm not." The comment had made Mulder shudder with fear, yet when he'd reported the conversation to Ken, the Stud had been ecstatic. The next morning, after Ken had read Mulder's note, he'd enthused about the situation, pointing out that Mulder should encourage Krenzl's fantasy by continuing to pretend to be infatuated by the Imperator. The real problem for Mulder was that despite his hatred of the Albrecx and his very real fear that Krenzl *was* mentally unstable, his infatuation with the Imperator was barely a pretence at all. He was becoming obsessed himself by the pleasure that thrummed through his body whenever Krenzl took him. He wasn't having to fake his enthusiasm for impaling himself on Krenzl's Hrraus. Still, he suspected that it wasn't really Krenzl he couldn't resist, because he often found himself deliberately teasing Jax with what the handler couldn't have. The truth was he just wanted the touch of *any* Albrecx on his body. He'd even tried to admit that to Ken, but the moment he'd written the words he'd been so ashamed that he'd torn the paper up and disposed of it down the waste unit in the shower. Still, achieving the ability to write *had*
helped him feel a little more human again. Mulder had begun to make writing gestures whenever the topic of his muteness came up. At first Krenzl had just patted him on the head and laughed, pointing out since *he* couldn't read English and Mulder couldn't write in
Albrecx, there was no point in even attempting written communication. Then, all he had been able to do was wait and hope he'd gain some
information worth sending to the surface. This visit by the other Leaders was
his first opportunity to learn something useful.
"Basically, we're putting down far more
beasts than we're keeping. Added to the problem is the undoubted truth that the
most suitable beasts are proving to be the hardest to capture. The first collection ships are scheduled to arrive next week and we have collected less than half the first quota of
milkbeasts to send back to the Homeworld. If we don't fulfill our schedule, we'll be fined." "But we don't want any more pets," Krenzl exclaimed. Bracx rolled his eyes slightly but kept his voice carefully respectful as he replied. "But *they* won't know that, will they? Once they have entered the camps, even if they discover the true fate of a milkbeast, they will be unable to escape."
"We'll start the transmissions the day after tomorrow," Krenzl agreed. "It's always a problem to domesticate the wild ones. Yet they make pleasing pets once they are house broken."
Later that day, Ken passed it to one of the studs who serviced Ronxil's own producer. He in turn slipped it to one of the breeding females in the veterinary center who had already been examined and was due to be transported back to earth. She in turn passed the tiny capsule to the resistance contact in her breeding camp. By the following night, Mulder's note was in Frohike's hands.
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