The soul untethered from the body had one sensation left to feel: pleasure. The spirit that was Chase had forgotten what colours were, what scents and sounds were, and thinking was practically impossible. He was adrift in a sea of bliss, but it was deeply disorienting, like he was everywhere and nowhere at once. He could only tell it was pleasure because it rose and fell in waves, and when it rose, he felt fulfilled, or so light he was barely there at all.

Feeling returned little by little. He became aware of his body by degrees, and then there was an idea of darkness, and then he opened his eyes and the pleasure was gone. It left a sort of emptiness behind, even though the moment he was back in his body the memory faded away, impossible for his embodied form to understand. But not impossible to want. And there were ways to get it again, if you really wanted.

But Chase was not addicted to that particular spiritual high. The gnawing need would pass. He slowly got his bearings on a familiar room with a subtly sloped roof and a big circular window. He lay on a spacious bed, big enough for three people at least. And it had frequently been used that way. Nights where he and Hunter slept on either side of their lover Caspian had been frequent, their own shared room rarely used unless someone needed space or had another partner that night. He could point out where all the old paraphernalia and decorations used to sit—but they’d all been replaced.

Chase sighed and finally turned his head at just the right angle to see the man who had been waiting for him to wake up: the new SPIT president, Hawk. Lean, dark brown, tattooed, and Pinoy, the Seeder stud looked at Chase with the intense smoulder that the shape of his face enforced, whether Hawk intended it or not.^[2] The memory quickly came back to him: Hawk watching him from the winners’ box at the obstacle course, commanding the spirits that fucked him so hard they blasted his soul out of his body.

Chase felt a pang of loss, and not the good kind. He hadn’t proved himself the way he wanted… but it was Hawk’s fault all the same.

“Oh. It’s you.” Chase narrowed his eyes and sat up, his dick settling comfortably between his thick thighs.^[3] “You’ve been on me and Hunter all night, haven’t you? What do you got, a crush?” He tried thinking back to their relationship before he’d graduated. Hawk had something of an obsession with him—at times, he wrestled with Chase more aggressively than anybody else, and at other times he barely put the work in at all. He had a chip on his shoulder about the whole idea of fighting to fuck, at least with a frat bottom.

Hawk snorted. “Am I not allowed to appreciate the best frat bottoms in SPIT?” Chase could never tell when Hawk was being sincere. He always sounded a little sarcastic. And in this case, Chase was pretty sure Hawk had no interest in who Hunter and Chase really were.

“You sure haven’t appreciated us very directly,” Chase said, crossing his arms. “Trying to push Hunter into the pool with the naiads, fucking up my game with those spirits…” Chase made a frustrated noise, then glared at Hawk properly. “You scared of going toe-to-toe with the Beast Tamers?” he asked, derisively. If he provoked Hawk, at least they’d have some fun.

“Hardly,” Hawk spat, and then he regained his composure. “You know that was just a friendly welcome. We couldn’t let the Brat Tamers run free in SPIT without a prank or three. You noticed Hunter’s womb tattoo, I’m sure.”

“Your prank for me was pretty goddamn lame,” Chase said, looking away. Hawk’s words were disarming, because he was right—this wasn’t unlike SPIT, and honestly, the idea of getting pranked made him feel like he was Spittle again. But this prank had hurt. “You can’t show a little respect to the Beast Tamers? You know that’s my favourite event. I like winning that one. Makes me feel like a stud, but I guess you can’t have studs for frat bottoms, huh?”

Hawk ignored that last question and said, “I know, I know, but I needed to get you back for messing with me at the pool. Besides,” he purred, as he prowled toward Chase, looming over the former frat bottom and placing a hand on his cheek, “you would have won a good frat boy fuck anyway. Pure focus on your pleasure as a bottom, all the dirty talk you wanted.” His hand slid down toward one of Chase’s green dragonscaled pecs and squeezed, and Chase felt his spirit pushing through the scales, massaging Hawk’s hand deep enough for the frat boy to make a grunt of pleasure. “So why don’t I make it up to you, Chase?”

Chase scoffed, but the idea was compelling. Caspian had blueballed him once already, and he hadn’t cum since then. He needed the high-quality dick only an expert like Hawk could sling, and the way Hawk’s erection throbbed a foot away from his chest was awfully compelling. “I’m not stupid, Hawk. Something’s in it for you. You’re a Seeder; what’s stopping you from knocking me up?”

Hawk reached for something on the nightstand and presented it to Chase. It was a red cock ring, exactly the same kind that Caspian had used to block Chase from cumming during their tryst. “Maybe,” Hawk said, as he slid both of his knees onto the bed, straddling Chase’s lap, “I want another dose of your dragonscale.” His muscular ass settled on Chase’s dragonscaled thighs, and he ground his rear back against Chase’s exposed spirit with a shudder. “Maybe I just want the thickest ass—“ his free hand slid down to squeeze Chase’s cheeks— “and tightest hole in SPIT.”

It wasn’t a fight, and it wasn’t Caspian, but gods, Hawk had a way of making Chase feel wanted. Chase took the carved metal cock ring out of Hawk’s hand and pressed it to the frat boy’s cockhead, sliding it down the towering shaft as it stretched to match Hawk’s girth until it was snug around the base.

Hawk grinned, taking it as consent, and slid off Chase’s lap. “On your back, Pup, legs up. Show me your hole,” he said, as he began to stroke his dick, spreading the precum that quickly flowed freely from his cockhead. Hawk stood apart from the bed while Chase followed his orders, and Chase noticed that there was henna on Hawk’s big, low-hanging balls.

“What ball design is that?” Chase asked, pretending Hawk hadn’t just used his pet name. Hawk wasn’t Caspian. He couldn’t use that.

But who else would?

“It makes me cum more. Which is nothing you need to worry about, since I can’t,” Hawk replied, wryly. ”Just spread that fat ass for me. You look insanely fuckable,” he purred, devouring Chase’s body with lidded, kohl-lined eyes, taking in the contours of Chase’s chest, his strong, chubby gut, his arms pulling back his legs.

As Hawk climbed onto the bed, Chase craned his neck to get a better look at the henna. The artful strokes seemed to flow upward, outward, then down. It didn’t look exactly like an orgasm enhancer, but Chase didn’t know what was missing. Still, nothing really mattered as long as Hawk didn’t cum inside. But Chase missed taking frat boy loads, the camaraderie he felt when he helped a SPIT bruiser blow off steam, the bond strengthened by every orgasm.

He reminisced as Hawk loomed over him, pressing his precum-soaked tip to Chase’s hole, and he moaned tremulously as Hawk finally sunk inside. “Gods, I missed your hole,” Hawk crooned, his thick dick parting Chase’s walls, his guts, making room for the sheer, stomach bulging size. Hawk slid in like a frat boy, gyrating his cock, searching for Chase’s p-spots on the way so he could target them later. When Hawk’s balls smeared across Chase’s thick, soft rear, the head of his cock made a vague, rounded bulge in Chase’s gut. It was so deep, so filling, so hard, an intrusion Chase’s body struggled to contain.

“Why aren’t you a Surrogate, Chase?” Hawk asked, as he started to thrust. Like the expert top he was, every stroke steamrolled a few of Chase’s p-spots along the way, applying intense, aching pressure that blossomed into bliss in his core. “You’re missing the full frat bottom experience. I’d have loved to cum inside.”

“I don’t need the whole frat bottom experience. Honestly?” Chase asked, with a weak grin on his face, “I always wished I could have stayed a bruiser. It’s nice feeling like a stud.”

“Only to lose, right?” Hawk spat, his voice suddenly intense as he slammed his hips into Chase’s well-cushioned ass. For a moment, Chase saw that look he liked in a stud’s eyes, the kind that saw him as an enemy, someone to conquer. Then Hawk calmed down again, kept sawing in and out. The precum was flowing faster than usual, thick, heavy spurts of it shooting hard enough for him to feel the pressure. But Seeder precum came with its own little reward—wherever it landed, a tingling pleasure fizzed to life and faded away. And with the way Hawk was shooting, there was always another spray of bliss to replace the last.

“That’s all you really wanted,” Hawk said, his voice calmer. “You can’t be a bruiser like that. You were made to be a frat bottom. Why would we let the rankings drop for a brother who loses fights all the time?”

“Woah, woah!” Goddamn, Hawk was getting antagonistic. “C’mon, did you learn anything from when Caspian was president? Fuck—” Chase’s words were interrupted by his moans as Hawk worked that frat boy magic on his p-spots. He pushed through the thrills of pleasure and continued, “It’s not—about winning. It’s about your brothers. Fuck! Look, the point is,” Chase gasped, “I’m not just some slut. Hell—” he flashed Hawk a charming grin and squeezed his thighs around Hawk’s sides, urging his spirit through the dragonscale, soothing Hawk with warm bliss— “I bet I could get pretty damn close to beating you, if I really tried.”

Chase’s massage did nothing to calm Hawk down. Hawk laughed scornfully—and started thrusting harder again, slamming his cock through Chase’s guts, the sheer force rattling Chase’s core and making it hard to speak, hard to think, hard to do anything other than moan. “You’re delusional, Chase. You don’t have a shred of dominance in your whole body. No, do you know what you are? Ungrateful. SPIT was the best place for sluts like you to get the treatment you deserve.”

Chase felt a sudden sense of danger.

Hawk paused with one last violent slam, breathing hard, trying to calm down, loosing precum into Chase’s core like mad. “All we want to do,” he said, as he slid his hands up Chase’s soft body, squeezing his strong gut and powerful pecs, “is treat you and your holes like kings. How can you not want that?” Hawk slowly began to thrust again, still spurting precum like a broken faucet.

Hawk’s words did nothing for Chase’s growing frustration. “Because I’m not a fucking slut!” he said, raising his voice. “Goddamn, man! I’m your brother, can’t I want other things?” He didn’t feel wanted anymore, and he knew for certain that Hawk didn’t deserve to call him ‘Pup’. Hawk just wanted his holes. How the hell was he going to find someone who wanted… all of him?

Hawk’s precum was taking a toll on him. Seeder pre was a blessing and a curse; every time the rush of pleasure fizzled away, it left a subtle but growing need for more. Eventually, the precum stopped satisfying, while the need just got stronger and stronger, and the only thing that would quench it was a real Seeder load. That was how a guy got knocked up.

And that’s when Chase put it together. Hawk’s ball art was missing the flaring motifs that represented an orgasm. It was specifically intended to make more precum than usual. It was specifically intended to make Chase crave Hawk’s load. He turned his head sharply to stare at Hawk, who had a wicked grin on his face. “Hawk, what the fuck are you doing?”

“If you don’t want it,” Hawk said, with a self-assured air, “I’ll make you want it.” Hawk pulled out enough that he could slam into Chase’s prostate, choking the protest about to come out of Chase’s mouth, and as he sunk back inside he hit Chase’s p-spots like a godsdamned pinball.

Chase could only moan wordlessly, unable to even glare at Hawk as he endured the pleasure of thrust after brutal, perfectly-aimed thrust. His p-spots and his stretched walls were his whole world, and the strain of taking a dick big enough to bulge his gut out from within was barely an afterthought compared to the pleasure thumping all over his core.

And the need was growing unbearable.

Every time that precum fizzled in his gut, it sated him, but barely. No, it didn’t sate him at all. Fuck, he needed more than this, so much more, even though his stomach was already about to swell with it. He needed Hawk to cum. Nothing would be enough if Hawk didn’t blow his wad, sink gallons of heat-quenching Seeder cum that would turn the next three months of his life into a nymphomaniac nightmare.

Chase came first. And he came hard. Nobody hit his p-spots like a frat boy; that was what they trained for, and the pressure and pleasure built and built until all his spots released their loads at once. He shot like a godsdamned rocket, huge, thick ropes of cum splattering his torso and Hawk’s bed with every wave of bliss that racked his body. He was fully glazed in it, the sheets soaked through by the time he was done.

And Hawk was still pounding. “Got what you wanted?” he asked, cruelly.

“Fuck you,” Chase gasped, through the pleasure, much more in control of himself after the mind-blowing nut. “You wanna knock me up? Is that what you wanna do? I’m not gonna let that happen.” He tried to sound defiant, but the next words came out desperate. “Just pull out and cum in my mouth, man.“

“Not a chance,” Hawk spat. “But I won’t knock you up, either.”

Chase looked back at Hawk incredulously. “I only have two holes! The fuck?”

“I won’t knock you up,” Hawk repeated, “until you bring Hunter back to me.”

Chase’s heart felt like it stopped. Hawk wanted to knock both of them up. And when Hawk’s Seeder cum turned them both into even needier, hungrier bottoms, they wouldn’t want to leave. Hawk wanted to make the Beast Tamers’ visit permanent.

Chase had to find an option fast, because the need was acute. He wanted to beg for it, to grovel, and worst of all, he wanted to drag Hunter back here just to get his fix. That was too fucked up. What could he possibly do? “We’ll find another Seeder to cum down my throat,” he said, desperately.

“Good luck,” Hawk said, with a wicked grin. He just wouldn’t stop thrusting, wouldn’t stop shooting precum. If he was desperate to nut, he didn’t show it. “Every Seeder in SPIT is in on it. If it’s not me who knocks you up, it’ll be one of them. All you two have to do is give yourselves up, and you’ll get what you want. We’ll hunt you until you do it. And you won’t want to leave the party, either, not when we’re the only solution you can count on.”

“All of you? Fuck,” Chase groaned, his desperation growing. “There’ll be another Seeder somewhere—Caspian!” The exclamation sounded almost like a cry for help, not that their old friend could hear him. “He’ll help. He understands.”

Hawk laughed, punctuating the sound with a harder thrust. It was insult to injury. “You think he’s not in on it, too? You think he wouldn’t jump at the chance to win you two back no matter how?”

“Fuck,” Chase whimpered, a defeated noise. He wished he didn’t believe Hawk, but after what Caspian had done to him, after telling him to come back, how was he any different from Hawk? At least Caspian had fought him down like Chase wanted. Would it be so bad if Peen was in on it, if it meant he could have his lover again?

Chase thought of Hunter again. “C’mon, man, what about Hunter? He wants this way less than I do.”

“Like you actually believe him. He wants his holes filled by SPIT boys day in and day out. If he had his way he’d be nothing but a cumdump and he’d love it. That’s what you two are supposed to be. Gonna put you in your place,” Hawk growled, and then his face tightened like he felt his orgasm coming on. Chase felt a thrill of fear for a moment, and then it was Hawk’s turn to show weakness, his face falling as his orgasm escaped him. Chase couldn’t believe Hawk’s restraint—even if it was enforced by the cock ring. He couldn’t believe Hawk was still hitting his p-spots.

“You don’t get it,” Chase groaned. “There’s no frat bottoms in the real world. There’s not even frat bruisers. We can’t be free-use sluts anymore. I can’t find anyone to wrestle me down. None of this matters to anyone, Hawk.”

Hawk looked stricken, his thrusts faltering. Had Chase hit a nerve?

“Hawk,” Chase said, his voice thick with concern, “are you ready to leave SPIT?”

“Shut up!” Hawk growled, grabbing Chase by the chin and shoving his mouth shut as he jackhammered into the former frat bottom, chasing a climax that would never come. Hawk looked utterly desperate. “Of course I am! When I get out there I’ll be—the best stud around—just like here. This is—fuuuuck—practice. When I leave, I’m taking you and Hunter with me as my frat bottoms. There’s studs—and there’s sluts. And you are a slut.”

He made a wordless, broken noise, and then he pulled out of Chase abruptly, spewing precum in rope after long, then rope. Chase’s belly had swollen with it, and in moments he was drenched.

“Get out, Chase. Come back when you’re ready to accept your place. You and Hunter both.”

Chase knew he wouldn’t get what he wanted. With a groan, he rolled himself out of bed, dripping precum from his gaped hole. Gods, he was sore. “I hope you get what you want after SPIT,” Chase said, as he walked toward the familiar old door.

Hawk ignored him. He summoned his phone, a holographic screen hovering over his wrist, and said: “Alright, Spittle. All hands on deck. The hunt is on.”

When Caspian found Hunter getting spitroasted behind the obstacle course, he almost turned around and walked away. Under any other circumstance, seeing Hunter tonight getting cored out by other Spittle would have struck him in the heart.

But Hunter had texted him first.

He’d barely believed it when he opened his phone and received the notification. It had a special ‘ringtone’ to it, the feeling of a cat purring against his chest, but it had been so long since he’d received a message from Hunter that it took him a moment to remember what the feeling meant. He’d opened it up immediately after that.

I need you to help me, Peon. It was the nickname Hunter used when he was trying to act like he was in charge. I’m behind the obstacle course. The message came with a feeling—helplessness, mixed with stubbornly held pride.

Only if you talk to me after, Caspian had sent back, without attaching his feelings of need and loss and excitement. He didn’t want to rub salt in Hunter’s wounds. He just wanted to know what the wounds were. Caspian^[4] had set out even before Hunter messaged his acquiescence to the deal. He couldn’t leave Hunter behind, and he couldn’t miss another chance to save his old flame, to show that he still cared.

So he approached the group with a saunter, watching Hunter’s eyes follow him even with hips and balls repeatedly smacking his face. Among the group, but not actively fucking Hunter, was DC, a current senior Caspian recognised. “DC!” he called, boisterously, as he approached the lean, lightning-tattooed Latino.^[5] He threw an arm around DC’s back. “What’s going on here, man?”

“This? We’re just taking care of Lickspit here, giving a frat bottom the dicks he needs. You wanna join in, Caspian?” DC asked, with a grin on his face that was genuine toward Caspian and sneering towards Hunter. “I’m sure you two have missed each other’s junk.”

“Lickspit?” Caspian asked. “That’s Hunter you have there. And he’s hardly a frat bottom no more, is he?”

Hunter’s eyes widened, and then he looked away. Caspian hoped the words had placated Hunter. One of the last things Hunter had told Caspian during graduation was that he didn’t want to be a frat bottom anymore, but Caspian still didn’t truly understand what that meant.

“He acts like one,” said DC, watching their wordless interaction. “He wants our dicks. He worships them.”

Caspian bent down onto his knees, enough to glance up at Hunter’s stomach.^[6] That’s what he’d thought. SPIT really had rigged this game against the Tamers. “The tattoo helps, I’m sure,” he said, all sing-song. “But I’ll bet you some things are etched deeper in his spirit than that.”

“What, like the pet play you do? Last I heard, you had a falling out. I’ll take that bet.” DC crossed his arms and grinned. “What do you want if you win?”

“Hand over Hunter,” Caspian said, and DC nodded. Displeasure flashed in Hunter’s eyes, like he didn’t appreciate being treated as a commodity.

“And if I win, you’ll give me something—someone of equal worth. Bring me Chase. I want the matched set.” DC’s eyes gleamed, and Caspian paused, troubled, glancing at Hunter, who looked equally uncertain.

“Fine,” Caspian said, at last. “Based on what you called him… whichever of our spit he licks up first wins. How about that?”

“I’ll spit on it,” DC said. They held their palms up to each other’s faces and spat, and then each of them licked the other’s spit off his own hand. “Hey, bro,” DC called, to the frat boy fucking Hutner’s face, “do me a solid and pull out of Lickspit’s mouth! I have a Chase to win for us.”

The frat bro groaned and reluctantly pulled out while Hunter coughed up precum and spit, and DC and Caspian walked up to him instead, side-by-side, both their dicks presented to Hunter’s face. Hunter gave them a withering glare, then sighed. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

“Listen to me, Lickspit,” said DC, and Caspian watched with envy as Hunter’s eyes snapped to DC’s, suddenly intent, needy for orders. “See, that’s how you should act around us Spittle. Ready to do what we say. Ready to suck our dicks. You’re a frat bottom, Hunter. Licking our spit is a privilege. It’s worth it. It’s what a Lickspit was made for.” DC hocked a loogie and spat it clean onto the head of his dick. “So why don’t you go ahead and do it?”

Hunter looked genuinely troubled. Caspian knew that part of Hunter was in there, the part that signed up to be a frat bottom, the part that was always so eager to work on their dicks. Hunter fucking loved bottoming for frat boys. He loved bottoming, period. But that wasn’t the only part of him that Caspian knew. The pet he and Chase had trained was not eagerly subservient. The Pet Name—no, Callsign—on Hunter’s stomach gave DC power over the needy sub in Hunter. But Caspian would appeal to the part of Hunter that SPIT had neglected.

The reason for Hunter’s real pet name.

As Hunter visibly fought the urge to lean in and suck DC’s dick, Caspian offered him a way out. “Here, kitty kitty,” he sang, in his voice, one of only two who could trigger the response that followed. Hunter went from staring hungrily at DC’s cock to looking up at Caspian intently, his eyes piercing, appraising. “There you are, Panther. I see you. I see what’s behind those eyes. Does DC own you? Can he talk to you like that?”

Hunter hissed at DC, but then turned his glare back on Caspian. “He doesn’t own me. But you don’t either, Peon.”

“I know I don’t,” Caspian said, wryly, raising both his hands. “I ain’t askin’ to own you either.“ Caspian presented his open palm and spat on it, his skin glistening with whitish, cum-like fluid. “I’m asking you to allow me to pet you, yeah?”

Hunter seemed pleased by the idea, but as he leaned forward to sniff at Caspian’s hand, DC growled and tried to take over. “He isn’t even offering his cock, Lickspit. What do you care about choice? I’m giving you all the dick you ever wanted, you just have to sit there and take it. Suck my dick, Lickspit.”

Hunter looked torn. The tattoo was pulling on him even now, Caspian knew. It promised him such rewards, if he’d only give in and obey the one using his Callsign. But the subspace Caspian had just put Hunter in didn‘t fade so easily. It was a part of Hunter, a way of life. Playing the part of a panther was second-nature now.

“Pspspsps,” Caspian sounded, to pull back Hunter’s attention. “You’re a predator, not a lap kitten. You should get dick on your own terms—not his.” Caspian wanted to say more, wanted so badly to say that he would give Hunter everything Hunter wanted, dom him or sub for him, but that was too much. Right now he just needed to give Hunter the motivation to get out of this.

And it seemed like it might be enough. Hunter was so close to his spit-covered hand, eyes appraising both his offered palm and his smiling face.

“Lickspit,” DC urged. “Lickspit, listen to me. You know your fucking place—“

Hunter opened his mouth and dragged his tongue up Caspian’s palm, collecting the cum-like spit again and again until strings of it connected his teeth and his mouth was full of white. “Good panther,” Caspian praised, gently rubbing his palm over Hunter’s cheek, smearing it in the last of his spit and Hunter’s saliva. “Sorry, DC. Looks like Hunter and I win this one.”

“Damnit,” DC growled. “Why?”

“Can I still cum?” asked the frat boy on Hunter’s ass, who’d been barely thrusting this whole time, holding his breath during the game. Hunter responded by throwing his ass back so hard the frat boy fell to the ground—and then riding him stupid.

“Good panther,” Caspian praised. “Get that dick.” He turned toward DC. “The tracks Chase and I left in his spirit are much, much deeper than a surface-level tattoo. When you pit that against identity it’s a hard battle to win.” Caspian patted DC’s back as the frat boy under Hunter groaned and came. But—for all that Caspian was gloating now—watching Hunter’s belly slowly swell with another gallon of seed made Caspian sorely wish he was the one under Hunter instead.

As soon as Hunter was satisfied with his meal he popped off the frat boy’s cock, cum waterfalling from his hole for a moment while the last ropes of jizz spurted from the cock he’d been using and landed on the ground. Hunter rose gracefully despite both his gape and his gravid belly.

“It was a good try,” he said, to DC, and then he turned to Caspian. “I’m surprised, Peon. It sounds like you actually listened to me at graduation.” It was so casual, so easy, the way he nudged Caspian around and slid his arm around Caspian’s back. He walked across the lawn, urging Caspian forward.

“You remember that?” Caspian asked, immediately regretting the question.

“Do I remember the day I broke up with my boyfriend?” Hunter asked, airily. “I don’t know, do you?”

His tone was teasing, but Caspian took it seriously. “Every single day,” he said, solemnly, and Hunter stopped and peered at him appraisingly. Caspian could feel the way he was being judged. He tried not to wither under that gaze, but it was hard not to show in his face how much he needed his old flames.

“Do you understand what you did wrong, Caspian?” Hunter asked, with a sympathetic tone.

“I…” Caspian shook his head. “I just know you blew up at me when I asked if you… still wanted to be my frat bottoms.” He felt lost, and before Hunter could speak he barrelled on. “We were gonna move in together, Hunter. I don’t understand. All I said was that I wanted to bring SPIT with us. It’s all just roleplay, Hunter, so why?”

“Because SPIT isn’t everything, Caspian. I told you a million times,” Hunter said, exasperated. “Out there, I couldn’t be a frat bottom anymore. That’s just not how the world works. I had to stop playing a slut. I had to assert myself.”

“That’s why I said what I said,” Caspian tried, still wading through his confusion. “I thought I could help you. I thought I’d make it easier for you to stay a frat bottom.”

“I’m not a frat bottom anymore, Caspian!” Hunter cried. People glanced at them, and then away, but in that moment neither man cared. “That’s all SPIT wanted from me. All they see is a slut! And you know what? Turns out SPIT treats sluts the same way here that they get treated out there. I just thought it was fine because SPIT acted like I was a king, but I was a toy.”

“I wasn’t like that! You were my toy when you wanted it, but I let you powerbottom me when you wanted to be a predator, I—“

“Caspian, I didn’t love you because you ordered me to dom sometimes, I loved you because you sat and talked with me about my future and my art and what I wanted to do with my life! Gods, I don’t need someone to parade me around like a slut, I need someone who will support me in proving myself to the world! Someone who doesn’t just think about how much he misses SPIT! And now you want to—come back and train more frat bruisers? Is this all you have?”

Caspian stared at Hunter for a moment longer, and then he looked away. Hunter was right. He missed SPIT every day, and without it, he barely even knew how to reach out to his friends. He didn’t know how to be someone without SPIT.

Hunter’s tone grew sympathetic. “This place is so small, Caspian. It’s so safe. But it’s not the real world. It’s not where your friends are. I broke up with you because I wanted something real independent of SPIT and you—you just wanted more of SPIT.”

“You’re… you’re right,” Caspian said. “You needed a partner, not a dom, huh? Hunter…” Caspian sighed. “I was afraid, too. I thought I’d lose all my friends once I lost SPIT. And… I suppose I did. But it was my fault.”

“We all need to grow up, Caspian,” Hunter said, sympathy reentering his voice, his expression softer. “We’re not frat boys anymore. We don’t need any of this. We don’t need SPIT.”

The words hurt, but he knew they were true. Seeing Hawk’s desperation to get his golden year at SPIT had convinced him. SPIT was small, and he’d been neglecting the bigger world he’d entered when he graduated. What he needed was friends. What he needed was people he loved. He took a deep breath and began, “I need—”

Alright, Spittle. All hands on deck. The hunt is on.

Caspian froze while Hunter looked on in confusion. “You didn’t hear that?” Caspian asked. “Hawk made an announcement. To… Spittle.”

“Why you and not me?” Hunter asked, sceptically. “What’s going on?”

Caspian wasn’t going to lie to Hunter. This felt like the worst time to have to tell him this, but suddenly it felt urgent. “I should have told you earlier,” he said, “but this is the first time we’ve spoken, you see—Hunter, SPIT doesn’t want you and Chase for just a night.” He watched Hunter’s face shift as he spoke, first into confusion, and then into serious concern. “Hawk told me that SPIT is… hunting you. Every Seeder has a team of bruisers, and whichever team knocks both you and Chase up one after the other wins.”

Caspian glanced down to see Hunter’s dick throb—but his face was going from alarm to anger. “Wins what, Caspian?” Hunter asked, and it really sounded like he was mad at Caspian for this.

“They… they expect you and Chase to stay after they knock you up. The winning team gets first dibs on your holes at all times.” Caspian looked away.

Hunter grabbed his chin and turned it back to look at him, his glare withering Caspian’s hope. “And you’re telling me this now? How long were you going to wait? Let me guess! Did you think you could win? Did you think maybe you could play the game? Do you ever learn?”

“No! I mean, yes! Gods, Hunter, I’ve missed you! I didn’t think it for long, but for a little bit, I thought that maybe this was how I could get you back, by—by saving you, and—”

“And knocking us up yourself,” Hunter scoffed, shoving Caspian back and turning around. “Chase and I are leaving. Don’t follow us. We’re done with SPIT and everyone in it.”

Caspian felt a surge of anger, but underneath it was desperation, devastation. He finally understood what Hunter wanted, but now Hunter just didn’t understand him.

But he shouldn’t be angry. He couldn’t be, not when so much was at stake. If Hunter wouldn’t listen, whatever, Caspian would save him anyway. With that womb tattoo and—who knew what they were doing to Chase—the Beast Tamers had no chance.

Caspian had to do something. He needed a team. He’d find a way to get Hunter and Chase out of here.

If not, they’d never leave this house again.