Dark Company

Destruction. It’s all around me. Every time I turn, there’s one more bloodstain or broken edifice. The entire government as we know it is turned on its head, and we are the few survivors. No other High Echelon Guardian Alphas stand in our place. It’s just Leon and me. The others are a smoldering pile of ash and bone. With a heavy sigh, I step away from the sticky, grimy carpet that leads into the High Inner Sanctum. 

Revolution. 

It’s what we wanted. But at what cost? Looking over the railing, I peer down at the people mingling below. Alphas and betas alike gather bits of debris and haul them outside. The main area is practically destroyed, but in truth, the entire building needs to be brought down to nothing but ash and rubble. There’s nothing here now. All this mausoleum contains are ravenous ghosts and horrific memories. 

A chill slithers down my spine as I step into the main chamber of the High Inner Sanctum, my stomach churning as I stare down at the bits of flesh and blood littering the floor. I have heard tales of an omega’s rage, but until today, I’ve never seen its evidence. Annora tore through Caulder as if his body was not made of muscle and sinew. She ripped him apart as if he were mere bits of paper littered about in the breeze.

That could have been any of us. Though, granted, we all knew better than to take advantage of one held sacred. Caulder and Varnack were far more stupid and insane than we gave them credit for, and that was our major mistake. Insanity is a dangerous weapon, never knowing where the collateral damage may lie. And the damage here is great. 

Tears prick my eyes as I picture the many allies that lay dead below. Already, workers construct small monuments in their honor as the dead lie on the massive fires. We burn them so that they can find their eternal rest—so that they can go into the ether to meet the gods. The monuments are all that these grieving families have left. It’s somewhere that they can pay their respects and go to remember them. 

As for the enemies that fell during the great fight, may Elex take them and do with them as he wills. They chose the wrong side of the fight. We gave them every opportunity to stand down, and they refused. The leader’s heads stand high at the perimeter, held aloft with pikes to deter any others that harbor ill will towards the new Stanlion. This will be their fate. We will show no mercy. The rest of their bodies, what parts we can find, are chopped into bits and carried off to feed the predators of the Dead Lands. Now, unless Elex and Eronoiac will it, their bodies will never cross over.

But what is to happen to Stanlion now? Everything must change. I know Jaxxon has plans, but many of them are based on a life we know nothing about. He speaks of the old times as if it was some Utopia, but there’s no way it was as perfect as he claims. Every government has a flaw. No one is perfect. 

Though I have no issues with betas and Alphas intermingling, working side by side as he claimed they once did, I fear for the omegas locked up in the High Sanctum. They know no other life than the one they were forced to live. And with the number of Alphas outweighing that of the omegas, I fear their presence in the streets could be disastrous. 

We cannot control the Alpha population in a way that’s needed to keep the omegas safe. We cannot conduct checks to make sure all dynamics are wearing respirators. Even if we did, what’s going to keep them from taking them back out? No one has said anything about the omegas yet, but they are a constant source of strain on my mind. It’s not because any of them captured my interest: it’s because, as an Alpha, I know the hardship of keeping away when the rut hits. 

I’ve seen seasoned Alphas brought down by a mere whiff of an omega’s scent. Hell, I brought down a few of those Alphas myself. That’s why respirators were enforced as strongly as they were for Alphas visiting the High Sanctum. But even then, even with soldiers like me, whose only job it was to protect the omegas and High Echelon Alphas milling about, they took a chance. 

The promise of pure, unadulterated omega scent was enough to drive even the most powerful Alphas insane. Shaking my head, I dispel those thoughts from my mind. It’s one of the reasons why I’m still without an omega. I have a job to do, and I cannot be bound in that way. If the stories I hear about the sacred bond are true, then having one will divide my mind, making me vulnerable in a way that I cannot abide.

Pulling out my datacom, I jot down a few notes, notating the repairs that are needed in this room. Again, the thought of just torching this place flits through my mind. Is it really necessary to save it? It will always be a symbol of injustice. If Jaxxon wants to rule on a throne, then it should be one that’s not fashioned from the misdeeds of others. That just breeds contempt.

Stepping out of the room, I adjust my respirators before heading back down to the makeshift hall that doubles as their audience chamber. As someone that’s been in this current world for as long as I have, my advice should have some merit. The decision, of course, rests in Jaxxon’s hands. I will still support him in every way. 

Once the revolution was won, I hoped Gemhardt would take over as leader, but his death made that impossible. Langston was my second choice, but he didn’t want it. He’s more concerned with keeping law and order than actually ruling the people. I sure as hell didn’t want the responsibility — I was trained in fighting, a product of selective breeding that makes me unfit to rule. 

I’m better off as the king’s iron hand, the one that dispenses justice. I don’t have a mind that thinks in diplomatic ways. The savage need to protect and kill run through my veins as thick and hot as my blood. No. Jaxxon is a good choice. He has experience that rivals mine, and with Annora by his side, he will be forced to consider both betas and omegas. As an omega who lived her life masquerading as a beta, she has an invaluable insight that will help lead Stanlion forward.

Pausing before the crowded opening, I decide to change course and go a different way. My chambers call to me, but not in a way that makes me want to relax. Instead, the need to cause even more destruction winds through my veins, compelling my steps further away from the hushed mourning that surrounds me. Blood isn’t enough. 

If I am truly to embrace this revolution, then I need to see it to completion, and that means destroying every bit of taint from the High Echelon’s hands. Their touch didn’t just stop at the stone and steel that created the building that encapsulated their pustulant false narrative. It is far more pervasive than that. The city outside of the main building still reeks of the infection that was forced onto the people, but there’s nothing I can do about that. That’s all Jaxxon’s job now.

I’m not helpless, though. I can still rip out the part that affects me. Ducking under the low door frame, I ease myself into the room and tighten my lips as the familiar, sterile scent wraps around me. Nothing. That’s all this room is. Its blank walls and the lack of scent. Even with my respirators, I can pick up on the medicinal disinfectant smell. 

The High Echelon controlled everything about me. What I ate, where I slept, what I listened to. I was never allowed access to women, not sexually, anyway. That was taken care of by the High Echelon as well. My stomach sours as I turn my head to stare at my breeding cage. Whether it was because they knew I couldn’t handle myself around a woman—or they just wanted me to think that—they made it so I never wanted to stray, not even for a moment. How was Leon able to flirt with such fluidity, such assurance? Was he not depleted as I was?

He went around, skimming his lips across the cheeks of willing betas at the brothels while I sat there, still as a stone, praying to Ilaria that I wouldn’t hurt one of these delicate creatures. Leon caressed them in a way that made my heart ache and my balls draw up, but still, I never made a move. 

The memories of stolen touches and kisses as a younger boy caress my brain like a cool breeze on a sweltering day, but it’s not enough. It doesn’t take away the feral Alpha need to conquer and fuck. And now? How will I survive without my regularly scheduled sessions? 

Though I can take matters into my own hands, there’s the fear that I won’t be able to control myself. Now, more than ever, I curse the High Echelon. They never taught me self-control in this way. I always depended on their forced ruts to deplete the need that crawls up my spine and sets my brain on fire. 

Anger burns through my muscles as I step up to the cage and wrap my fists around the enhanced steel. I’ll never be able to destroy it. If I could, I would have done it long before now. That it still stands is a testament to their craftsmanship. With a heavy sigh, I slip into the cage and pull the door shut until it is barely closed. Just a few millimeters stand between freedom and me. 

If I were to shut it all the way, who would be there to let me back out? I know how this works. Years of being forced to come for them etched into my brain just how this works. The door will not open again until I’ve paid with my essence. Though, now that there’s no one to collect it, will I ever be able to actually get out?

Tubes run along the back of the wall, all connecting to a cylinder that hangs from a limp coil. I never once thought of seeing how far it could stretch out, but now that there’s no one to stop me, no one to question me, I can explore the machine to my heart’s content. 

With my respirators firmly in place and no one to pump the acrid scent of synthetic slick into my room, I shouldn’t go into a rut. But just looking at the machine makes my cock swell. I need to take the edge off so I can think. I’m not due for a milking for another week or so, but despite that, the sharp ache draws up my balls until I nearly gasp.

As badly as I want to attach the machine to my cock and let it work, I don’t want to do it in the cage. I can’t take that chance. A stolen orgasm is one thing, but rendering myself unable to protect the city because I’m trapped in this godsforsaken box is something quite different. 

That, and no one but the High Echelon Guardian Alphas know of this secret shame. If I were to get caught in here, everyone would know. It would be an unbearable humiliation. I know Leon would not say a word, and with the others dead, the only thing that can reveal this humiliation is my stupidity.

Opening it once more, I step out of the makeshift prison but bring the cylinder with me. I despise the bits of metal and silicone, but I have no choice. If I don’t relieve myself soon, I might end up harming someone. And that I cannot allow. Though I have no idea what an actual pussy feels like, something tells me it has to feel better than this. With just one stroke, I might never come back from the edge.

I’ve heard the Alphas talk about their betas and omegas. They describe the ways they derive pleasure from their women. It’s nothing like the mechanical operation that happens with this machine. There’s no rippling of flesh, no soft sighs or moans. As always, the only sound is my pained groans and the rhythmic clacking of the metal joints as they move back and forth. 

My cock strains at the fabric of my uniform as precum flows through my slit to rub across the coarse fibers. If I don’t make myself come soon, I’ll need a new outfit. Reaching for the front with shaky fingers, I grip the tab of the zipper and yank it down as I stride over to my door and shut it.

No one needs to walk in and see just how far I’ve fallen. Anger and tears burn at the back of my throat as I grip the edges of the uniform and yank it down, freeing my insistent erection. It must be from the adrenaline dump that comes from battle. That’s the only reason I can think of for needing this. I’ve never once needed to get off in between scheduled milkings. 

Another thought worms into my head as I step out of the bottom half and let the cool air kiss my fevered skin. Perhaps it’s the freedom of knowing I can that makes me ache and throb. 

The uniform I wore under their regime acted as a sort of chastity belt. The inner pouch forced my cock to stay bent and in place. Even if I wanted to get hard, I couldn’t. But now, with the uniforms of the resistance, there’s nothing holding me back, nothing keeping me from getting and staying hard. 

At night when I went to sleep, I was usually too exhausted to think of anything else but the relief of slumber. If I became hard in the middle of the night, I didn’t know it. Though it was never spoken out loud, I always wondered if they tainted our air, forcing us to stay under. 

I never spoke about my concern with Leon, knowing that at any moment, someone could listen in. Hell, it was dangerous enough speaking in code to each other about the resistance. Every day I woke up with the fear that it would be my last. Thank Elex that we survived. It was through his grace and mercy alone. Making a mental note to place some meat at his altar later, I lie down on my cot and take my cock into my hands. 

Just the insistent grip of my fingers around my shaft drags a groan from my lips and more precum from my tip. Lying back, I rest my head against the thin pillow and pump into my hand, luxuriating in the feel of skin on skin. For the first time since I was a younger man, I’m actually taking the time to touch myself. Once I was dragged away from my family and forced into the program, I didn’t have the time or privacy to enjoy self-satisfaction. 

Even after I was awarded a room of my own, I still didn’t have the time or the will. But now, when there’s no one telling me what I can and can’t do, I touch myself. I reach in between my thighs and grip my balls, groaning at the feel of my fingers as I explore the tight ridges of my sac. My hand is so unlike the unyielding steel that would apply pressure to my body, but no nuance.

I luxuriate in the sheets, the gentle rasp of the fabric against my back and ass, so different from standing in a 5-by-5 cage with just enough room to turn around but not much else. And forget lying down. The best I could do was grip the bars as a pissant of the High Echelon cupped my cock and slid the cylinder over me, a lecherous smile stretching his lips wide as he placed a mask over his face and watched as the tainted scent poured into the room.

Their faces were the last I would remember before the rut took over. I didn’t even have the dignity of seeing a fake omega to go with the sickly-sweet perfume. Just one of a dozen men that would rotate out and jack off as the machine did its work. 

Shaking my head, I force those thoughts out. I no longer have to see them again. Not in my mind, nor in person. I dragged each of their quivering, piss-stained bodies to the square myself, not even allowing them to beg for clemency or swear a false allegiance just to save their skins.

The scent of their blood peppered the air, spicing it with their terror and gore. I wallowed in their misery, bathed in their crimson atonement, but still, it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Unless the gods allowed for a way to go back in time and make it so that I never was brought into the program in the first place, I would never get that time back. 

I could never cease being the monster that I am.