Just like every frat boy in this godforsaken building, Caspian wanted only one thing: Hunter’s ass. Hunter couldn’t believe he’d given Caspian a chance.

Hunter^[2] was so many other things, event organizer, artist, powerbottom, panther, predator. But SPIT wanted Hunter the Surrogate. He looked down at his cum-filled gut with frustration and arousal both. This was how they wanted him to look all the goddamn time, swollen with Seeder cum, hungry for more. They wanted Hunter the nympho, Hunter the slut who’d serve them at a moment’s notice.

The worst part was, it felt good. While the weight of the cum was impossible to ignore, the stretch brought along a fuzzy sort of bliss, a little cloud of happiness in his belly. He was such a hungry bottom because cum filled him like nothing else. It was the ultimate afterglow. He would walk around like this all day if he could. He knew, in his heart of hearts, that he could be happy as SPIT’s top slut.

He could be a Lickspit. And nothing else.

But Caspian had done one good thing: reawaken Hunter’s inner panther, just when DC was about to put it to rest. It didn’t matter that Hunter could be happy as a Surrogate. He was above that shit. Hunter was his own man, and if even Caspian couldn’t understand that…

Hunter brushed aside all thoughts of Caspian, brushed his wrist to activate his phone, and sent a text to Chase. Where are you? I’m coming to help.

The text came back while Hunter was in a side room full of party supplies—like condoms and cinnamon pills—waiting for the cinnamon to do its work and get rid of his gut, no matter how good it felt to be full of cum.

I need you. I’m in the basement.

Where in the basement? Hunter sent back, immediately, but a response was not forthcoming. Hunter hesitated just a moment too long, and a frat boy stumbled into the room, calling ‘Just a sec!’ back out the door and then stopping when he looked at Hunter.

The two stared at each other for a few moments. Was he in on it? The frat boy brushed his wrist and his phone sprang to life.

Hunter decided he was out of here. He hurried for the door, but the frat boy grabbed at his shirt just before Hunter got out of range, stopping him in his tracks.

“Come on, Hunter, don’t go yet,” said the frat boy, seductively. “Just you and me in a room?” A spank landed on Hunter’s bare ass. “Think of all we could do, you and me and my friends…”

Hunter pretended that spank didn’t turn him on. At least the frat boy didn’t know about ‘Lickspit’. “Fuck off,” he said, holding up a middle finger with one hand, batting the frat boy’s wrist away with the other, and hurrying out the door.

Two more frat boys were converging, and they grinned wide when they spotted him. When Hunter dashed forward, so did they. Hunter wedged his way into the crowd, heart pounding, while they hooted and called for Hunter to ‘Come back!’ and ‘Show SPIT some love!’

They couldn’t have him. They couldn’t.

The basement was wide open when Hunter came down the stairs, leaving Hunter and his coveted ass uncomfortably exposed. Most people were on the dance floor, but the basement was partitioned by soundproofed blackout curtains. Hunter glanced up the stairs anxiously. Nobody coming after him—not yet. He had to find Chase.

The first area Hunter entered was pure chaos. People ran around with cum balloons, lobbing them and catching them while the sounds of splats and hollers echoed through the curtain. No sign of Chase. Hunter ran through the frantic game of tag, ‘catching’ two balloons on his chest and ass, slathering him in jizz.

Why wasn’t Chase responding to him? Where the fuck was his friend? He arrived at the next curtain, took a shuddering breath, and pushed through.

If Caspian wanted any chance to save his friends, he needed help. He’d met other alumni, scattered around the party, and he just had to find them again, assemble a team that could go toe-to-toe with Hawk and his best bruisers.

Every second he spent looking for them felt like a waste. He was on a time limit. If someone else won first, SPIT would never let him drag Hunter and Chase free. He had to find his team, and he had to win.

He found Kestrel first. He had Kestrel’s contact, and the former SPIT bro responded quickly. Canyon, his former trainer in the frat, hadn’t picked up yet, so they were searching for Leaf, a frat boy gone pro wrestler that was loud and big and hard to miss.

But, while they searched, he couldn’t stop thinking about Hunter’s words. “What are frat bottoms to you, Kestrel?” Caspian^[3] asked, abruptly. “Or, what were they to you?”

Kestrel made a humming noise. “Relief, maybe? A bottom whenever I needed one?”

“No, I mean—were they like… toys to you? Status symbols? … Sluts?” Each of the questions was hard to ask, and Caspian stumbled over the words like he rarely did.

Kestrel looked taken aback. “Where is this coming from, Caspian?”

“I don’t know,” Caspian said, helplessly. “Just something Hunter said.”

Kestrel was quiet for a while, thinking as they climbed the stairs from the basement where they’d found no sign of Leaf. “I suppose… where I live now, I couldn’t treat anybody like I treated frat bottoms. I would take them around campus like arm candy. They’d suck my dick whenever I wanted.”

“Why did we think we could do that?” Caspian asked. “Because they were sluts.”

“Our sluts,” Kestrel offered. “We took care of them. It’s not the same. It was symbiotic.”

“Or maybe we owned them. What did you think of Hunter and Chase at first?”

Kestrel fidgeted. “Being honest… I thought they were bad frat bottoms. They weren’t… slutty enough.”

“Can’t help but wonder how the rest of campus saw frat bottoms,” Caspian said, darkly, and then both of them went quiet.

They stepped into the great hall, where most of the games were being held, and Leaf was immediately visible on the other side with his broad, tall body, his tattoos, and his huge arms flexing when he pumped his fists.

But before they could make for their next team member, Hawk was there standing in Caspian’s way, along with three cronies—the other best bruisers in Hawk’s year.

“Hello, Caspian,” Hawk^[4] said, nodding at Kestrel. “Gathering your team, I see.”

“Why not?” Caspian asked, wryly. “One more shot at getting my pets back? I’ll take it.” Caspian heard how he sounded and immediately regretted it. That wasn’t why at all. Was it?

The way Hawk laughed told Caspian he should reassess the situation. Four fresh college seniors against Caspian and Kestrel. They looked casual, but they could surround Caspian at any moment.

“I’m glad you’ve finally come around. Been a long time since you and me went head to head.”

Caspian’s heart started to pound.

“But first,” Hawk said, “answer me a question?”

The relief almost bowled Hunter over when he finally found his best friend, three rooms later. Then he realised who Chase was with and stopped in his tracks.

It was River again, and he had Chase trapped, one arm holding Chase in a tight half-nelson and the other wrapped around Chase’s chest to keep him pinned. There was no way Chase could have activated his phone in this position. He was surely stuck in River’s spiritual bindings right now, and breaking his way out of them would only cripple Chase with the need to submit.

River’s three other goons were here, too, and the little area was tight, stuffed with SPIT’s art supplies. If Hunter stepped forward to get to Chase, River’s frat boys would surround him. If he ducked back through the curtain, he might get spotted by the team of frat boys on his trail.

Hunter was just as trapped as Chase. Except… if Sable and his friends did find Hunter… they’d have to fight for him. The plan formed in his head in an instant. He just had to stall. Escape would be even better, if he could pull it off.

“The matched set,” River^[5] said, with a proud grin. That pride grated at Hunter. Did SPIT really have to act like it owned him and Chase all the time? It had been nice when he was a frat bottom. But he saw through it, now. “Glad you’ve finally joined us, Hunter.”

“I haven’t joined anyone,” Hunter said, in a barking tone very familiar to Chase. Chase^[6] looked at Hunter with wide, lust-addled eyes, and gods, Hunter hoped this worked: “I’m just here for my— hunting dog!” He said the last words like he was calling Chase over, and Chase instinctively strained forward, his dragonscaled pecs pressing into River’s arm so hard that the arm jerked in pleasure.

The phantom pleasure from Chase’s dragonscale wasn’t enough to make River let go, and Chase stopped struggling a moment later, still eagerly smiling at his master. “He’s kind of tied up right now,” River said, sounding apologetic. But his beaming smile just made it sound hollow. “Do you really wanna break out, Chase? I can give you what you need.”

“How can a man sound so innocent and so much like Hawk at the same time?” Hunter asked, crossing his arms. “Pup? I know you’re a good hunting dog. Come to master.”

Chase… hesitated. Worse than that, he looked back at River, who made a pouting face.

“Don’t listen to him, Chase. If you leave, how am I supposed to give you my Seeder cum?”

Chase made a whining noise and looked back and forth between Hunter and River. “Master, I… Hawk, he… he filled me up with Seeder pre.”

“That asshole,” Hunter swore. There was a wicked glint in River’s eyes. “Nuh-uh. This isn’t how this is going to go. Chase and I will find someone else to satisfy him.” Hunter prowled forward, trying not to flinch as the other three frat boys started toward him. They stopped when River raised a finger, leaving Hunter safe… for now. Where the fuck was Sable? “Let go of my pup, River.”

“I’ll let go of him when he asks me to, Lickspit,” River said, his eyes flashing in triumph.

Hunter’s spirit tightened with the handcuffs on his tattoo, a knot forming in his core. So River had figured it out. He wanted to step back, but his spirit resisted the idea. He should have found a way to cover up the stupid henna. It wouldn’t wash off for weeks.

“Oh, do you like that name, Lickspit?” River asked, innocently. “I like it too. Chase, I want you to help me give your master some love. Show him that we care. Turn your head and open your mouth.”

Hunter felt rooted to the ground. He knew he could move, should move, but as he mustered up the will to fight back, Chase did as River asked—and River spat a loogie in Chase’s open mouth, a messy one that splattered all over his inner cheeks and tongue. The sight of spit called to him, an option for release that doubled the tension in his spirit. He wanted to be a Lickspit. Everything would be better if he did.

He could… he could give in a little bit. While he waited for Sable. His heart pounded and he leaned forward.

“Make out with your pup, Lickspit. Taste my spit in his mouth. It’s for you.” River looked expectant, now, and almost as eager as Chase. The sophomore wanted this to work. He wanted Hunter to be his.

Hunter couldn’t help himself. His body relaxed, a tide of satisfaction rolling through him as he mashed his lips into Chase’s, tongue darting into his best friend’s mouth to taste what River had left there. His tongue explored that warm, wet cavern, lapping up the cum-like fluid and pulling it into his mouth. And when he finally swallowed it, pleasure flared in his throat, then chest, then stomach.

As soon as the satisfaction hit, he tried to use it to get out while he could. He grabbed Chase and started to pull.

“Stop that, Lickspit,” River ordered, “or you won’t get more.”

When Hunter slumped and clung to Chase, he told himself he was just playing along. He hoped beyond hope that Sable’s crew would finally make it in here. Saved by a bunch of frat boys, saved by everyone except himself. What did that make him? Not a stud, that’s for sure.

The relief he felt when Sable’s crew busted through the curtain and tackled River’s team was… hollow. But at least they were free.

“We’re being hunted, sir,” Chase said, once they were out of the pandemonium into the basement’s main area. Both of them looked around nervously.

“I know that,” Hunter replied, anxiously. “We have to get out of here.” He watched Chase shift uncertainly and continued, sympathetically, “I know, pup. I don’t know where we’ll find a Seeder for you.”

“I…” Chase hesitated, to no small frustration for Hunter. They needed to go. “… was gonna ask Peen to cum in my mouth, but Hawk said he was in on it too.”

Hunter narrowed his eyes. “He talked to me while you were gone and he pretty much said that. I’m willing to believe Hawk for once.” He groaned. “Pup, we can’t linger here. Are you a good hunting dog?”

Chase’s eyes widened. “Yes, I am, master!”

“We need to move. Before Sable’s team finds us. And we need to hide, too. Help me sniff out some discarded clothing. We’re going to look for a Seeder for you, okay? Maybe…” he glanced around. “The dance floor.” He took off in a hurry, and Chase followed by his side, looking for clothes that weren’t as revealing as the usual.

Chase found a hoodie tank and two tight black sleeves to cover his dragonscale and Hunter a sash, but he fumbled as he tied it around his waist to hide the womb tattoo. In those precious few moments when they should have been hiding in the crowd, it happened.

Sable^[7] stepped out of the curtain, a member of River’s team impaled on his dick, and spotted Hunter and Chase immediately.

“He sees us,” Hunter hissed. “Fuck! We have to go in. We have to split.”

Chase whined. When in subspace, the hunting dog hated being separated from his master. “What if I don’t find a Seeder?”

“You’ll find one,” Hunter urged, as he tied the bow tight. Sable was still staring, slamming his hips into his conquest again and again like he was bound to do to Hunter. “Just don’t let any Spittle take you. It can’t be a frat boy.”

Chase wrung his hands. “I’ll try. Just—let me go?”

“The hunt is over,” Hunter said. For Chase—but not for Hunter. Hunter had to be the panther for both of them. He had to be strong.

Chase’s stance changed, his nearly sycophantic eagerness flooding out of his face, replaced with… fear, concern, and need. “Fuck, I hope I can find somebody, Hunter,” he said.

“You will, Chase. Now go.”

“What will you do with the Brat Tamers,” Hawk asked, with his hands folded behind his back, “if you win?”

There was a right answer and a wrong answer. Caspian could lie, but words had power, and he wanted to believe the lie. If he said, ‘I’ll join up with SPIT and share my prize,’ like Hawk wanted, how hard would it be to turn the lie to truth?

It was stupid. But he’d betrayed Chase and Hunter enough times to lie now. “Set them free,” Caspian said. “Hell, I might not even knock them up. It’s enough that I could, right? And we both know I could.”

Hawk gestured with his head and his men spread out to surround Caspian and Kestrel. Wrong answer. “That’s too bad, Caspian. I was hoping to bring all three of you back, but I can’t have you in my way.”

Caspian’s heart raced. He breathed in deep, drawing in the Bruiser’s Blessing, and… nothing. A chill went through him.

“Sorry, did you want the spirits?” Hawk asked, as all three of his men stepped closer. “They’re only responding to one man right now: the man who’s going to make SPIT the kings of campus. The Warrior Prince just doesn’t cut it. I’ll be removing him from the game now.”

All four men surged forward and, suddenly, Caspian and Kestrel were locked in grappling battles with two opponents at once. Caspian yelled across the room for ‘LEAF!’ but it was impossible to hear him through the din of the party, and their only potential saviour kept frolicking while Caspian and Kestrel lost more and more ground.

Hawk and his men were aggressive, wrenching Caspian back and forth, shoving their weight into him, working to force him into their pits where he breathed in lungfuls of bottom pheromones. But they all knew he couldn’t be subdued that easily.

“Ropes?” Caspian felt another chill when he saw them pulled out. “Hawk, what the fuck?” He redoubled his efforts, but he was forced to watch as they pinned Kestrel and bound up his wrists.

“You’re not playing by the rules, Caspian. The brats are to be shared, and you just want them for yourself. This is for SPIT’s best interest.”

They pushed Kestrel to his knees, hands tied behind his back, and then they bound his ankles. Four men descended on Caspian, wrenched his arms back, shoved him to the floor, and ground their dicks into his face as they tied him up the same way. Partygoers passed by in shock, but no one intervened as the former president of SPIT fell to its new dictator.

“Are you a Seeder?” Chase asked, for the fifth time, though he’d already guessed the answer.

The partygoer he was talking to—who had, until this moment, assumed Chase was playing a codenames game with him—cocked his head quizzically. “Am I—no, sorry, I’m not. Why?”

“It’s nothing, sorry,” Chase said, apologetically. “I’m not actually playing the game.” He looked over his shoulder to see who was moving through the crowd, but he didn’t recognise anyone in it as a frat boy. Part of him, however, wished he did. It would be easier than this. Every time he got into conversation with someone, every time he got to the point of asking if they were a Seeder and they said no, he felt a little more hopeless.

He knew Hunter was probably right. He would find someone eventually; there couldn’t be none at this party. But, as he waded through the crowd again, trying to get some distance from where he’d just been so that nobody caught him, the empty feeling in his core was overwhelming. The urge to get his fix however he could was as bad as any Surrogacy-induced heat he’d ever endured. If he just turned himself over to SPIT…

That was out of the question. They wouldn’t give him what he needed unless Hunter was part of the deal. And he couldn’t do that to his best friend. But, man, spending the rest of the year—or longer—in SPIT seemed more and more appealing the longer he went without a Seeder load. In this moment, it didn’t matter that they weren’t Caspian, that they weren’t even like Caspian. At least they would fuck him.

He looked around for frat boys as he roamed through the dance floor—not because he wanted them to see him or anything, of course. No, just to make sure he didn’t get caught. Not looking where he was going, he bumped into a partygoer and immediately apologised. “Sorry, man! Didn’t see you there.”

The partier was a freckled redhead that reminded him of Caspian, except twinkier. The thought of his old flame stung. Was Caspian really in on it like Hawk said? Surely Caspian cared about them too much for that, and trusting Hawk seemed foolish, but… Hunter had said the same thing. Even now, going to Caspian felt like a betrayal of Hunter.

Chase, in his need-addled state, was beginning to think Hunter was the source of all his problems. Hunter had rejected Caspian over and over again. Hunter was preventing Chase from getting the Seeder load he needed so desperately. Hunter was so stubborn—

“Hey! Earth to beef? You with me?” the redhead asked, genuine concern on his face.

“What? Oh, yeah.” Chase rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, bicep bulging through his undersized sleeve. “Sorry, I… are you a Seeder?”

The redhead looked taken aback for a moment, and then he smiled and laughed innocently. “Let me guess. They’ve been feeding you a lot of Seeder precum?”

Chase gave a look of chagrin and then put his hand on his belly. “This is all Seeder precum, man. And chub.” He winked. “It’s way too much. I’m tryna find relief. But I… can’t get it from a frat boy, they’re just gonna knock me up.”

There was sympathy in the redhead’s eyes for a moment, quickly replaced by more incredulity. “You do know that’s how frat parties work, right? They’re trying to knock you up. Didn’t you expect that coming in?”

Chase opened his mouth, then closed it. Should he have known? Did he know, when he told Hunter about the alumni gathering, planted the idea in his best friend’s head? Was this what he’d wanted all along?

“I mean—yeah, I did, but I… changed my mind. I’m not ready to be a Surrogate again.“ Or a frat bottom, but he didn’t want to say that. He didn’t want to admit he’d gone here to find a poor substitute for Caspian. “It’s just too late now. I feel stuck, man. I came here knowing exactly what I was getting into and here I am, regretting it now. I just need to get my fix and get out.“

“Damn, you’re really going through it,” said the redhead, sympathetically. He reached down to his white jeans, which were ripped up enough in the crotch and thigh area to expose parts of his hardening, veiny dick and low-hanging balls. “You know what? I can help you. You’re in luck; I am a Seeder and I’m down to fuck your face.”

Chase’s eyes widened and he felt himself sag in relief, his whole body responding to the promise of rescue from his overwhelming need. “Yes, please,” he begged, doing one last scan in front of him to see if there were any frat boys around before he sank to his knees.

As the redhead fished his dick out of his jeans, Chase was suddenly struck with the feeling that he was betraying himself. This wasn’t how he liked to submit. He only liked to beg if begging was his only option. But what other option did he have? Chase stared at the redhead’s dick but couldn’t look him in the eye. There was no one left in this building who would treat him like he wanted. No one at all.

Gods, I hope this works, he thought, as he wrapped his lips around the tip and sucked on it.

The redhead was more aggressive than he looked, which was a solace. Chase expected him to be gentle, but instead, the Seeder gripped Chase’s head with both hands and immediately plunged forward, spearing open his throat and sailing forward until he was balls deep, even as Chase gagged on it. “I can tell you need this bad,” groaned the Seeder, as he began to fuck Chase’s face, his balls slapping Chase’s chin, tantalising him with the promise of the relief they contained. “Got a lot of—stamina right now—but just keep swallowing and I’ll get you your nut—soon as I can.”

Time passed. The sounds of sex filtered through the crowd, shlks and hrrks and plaps. Chase took it like a champ, waiting, waiting…

Desperation turned to hope as the redhead’s thrusts grew more erratic, as his balls drew up and stopped slapping Chase’s chin. “Gonna give you what you need,” the Seeder moaned. “You ready?”

Chase moaned eagerly—and then the crowd shifted behind the redhead, and a familiar face came into view, and then Sable was there. He scooped up the Seeder’s arms, casually put him in a full nelson and squeezed his throat tight enough for him to choke.

“This slut is the property of SPIT,” Sable said, as he pulled the redhead bodily out of Chase’s mouth. “Aren’t you, Chase?”

Chase stared at Sable with wide eyes. He wanted to cry, he wanted to howl, he wanted to demand that Sable give the Seeder back. But he also… just wanted to give up.

Chase didn’t know whether to run or stay.

Hunter just wanted to run. With or without Chase.

“Why would you pull that fucking card again, Chase?” Hunter cried, not bothering to control his volume despite the hunt they’d been running from since they got out of the dance floor. They were surrounded by bunched up partygoers again, but their fight was pushing their human shields away. “No, I’m not going to Caspian, not for anything! We should just leave.”

“Leave how? Go where?” Chase demanded. “They’re guarding the doors. If Caspian wins—he’ll let us go. I know it!”

“If you trust Caspian so much—go find him, then, see if he’ll knock you up without me around. But I swear I’m not coming with you, Chase. They’re not getting the fucking matched set. I’ll find a way to get out of here.”

Hunter turned around, marching away, and one more time he ignored Chase as Chase yelled ‘please!’ Even Chase had betrayed him. Even Chase wanted Hunter to be a slut. Chase had been pining after Caspian, all these months, and hadn’t told Hunter.

Hunter felt suddenly guilty. Maybe he was the reason Chase had never said it. Chase cared about him more than everything. Of course Chase would set aside his needs for Hunter.

Hunter turned back around, but Chase was gone. He could see familiar frat boy faces wading through the crowd and he spun back around and hurried. Was there an open window somewhere? Maybe he could escape, leave Chase alone, but—why was he fighting, anyway? Why struggle like this just to leave his only friend in the clutches of SPIT? Who did he have out there?

Here, he could be a Surrogate again. He missed being a slut. He missed being so, so hungry. If he stayed here, he’d never have to worry about being a stud ever again. Life was harder out there.

But he was a panther. Could he take it all on alone?

Hunter didn’t know whether to run or stay.

Chase couldn’t find Caspian.

Caspian and Kestrel were tied back to back in a fucking closet. What was this, a movie? The ropes were tight and there was little chance of loosening them, but they looked like they should be more breakable. Neither was strong enough.

A burst of strength from the Bruiser’s Blessing might have done it, but true to Hawk’s word, the spirits were all gone. Neither could activate their phones and call for help—they needed to touch their wrists and their hands were bound. After ten minutes of fruitless struggling—and yelling—Caspian was beginning to despair.

There was a bitter irony, going from ‘future SPIT trainer’ to ‘tied up in the SPIT closet’. His triumphant return, his Bruiser’s Blessing, none of it mattered. There was no home for him in SPIT. But there was no home for him where he lived now. Where was he supposed to go?

“Fuck, Kessie. I think we really are stuck.” Caspian hung his head and groaned. “How’d he get like this? How’d I let him get like this? I knew he was hung up on the bruising, but I thought he’d grow out of it.”

“I didn’t know him,” Kestrel said, “but we’re supposed to have more honour than that.”

“He’s too selfish. I can see it. He got president and he got a big head, and now it’s all about him, not SPIT. He thinks bruising is everything because it makes him feel like a stud. And they’re all falling in line. Fuck! Where did I go wrong with him?”

“Can you blame him if he wants to be a stud?” Kestrel asked. “Isn’t that what we all want?”

“Sure, but—if that’s all you want, look what you’ll do to frat bottoms.”

Kestrel was quiet.

“We’re supposed to be a family. The Tamers weren’t our toys, they were our friends. Hawk doesn’t get that. I didn’t even get that, not in… those words…”

Caspian felt something in the handprints on his arm, a like a whisper of wind. He breathed it in, welcoming the presence, and it tentatively slid through the spiritual channels in his arm, raising thrills of pleasure under his skin. He breathed out, in, quieting his mind to read this spirit’s intentions.

The presence was… familiar. He felt a strange fondness for it. It gave off warmth, brotherly affection, camaraderie. It wanted to help him, alone among its brothers.

“Caspian?” Kestrel asked, but Caspian kept breathing audibly, drawing the spirit in deeper than he did any of the spirits who had lent him their aid before. Power came from the uniting of wills. A momentary brush from dozens of spirits could do a lot. Communion with one spirit could do so much more.

His arms filled with the spirit, thrumming with power and pleasure, like how his dick felt when he strained with arousal. He had to save his friends. He had to save the best of SPIT.

He drank the spirit’s power, flexing his arms, straining at the bonds like they were the only thing in between him and his lovers. The power flooded out of him in a brief, orgasmic rush, and the ropes snapped as he half-moaned, half-roared, “Fuck yes!”

Caspian tried to break the ropes binding him and Kestrel together, but the sudden strength flooded out of him. Whatever will the spirit had to resist Hawk, it was gone for now. Caspian was on his own.

Not on my own, he thought, as he worked on untying the ropes instead. With my team. With my friends. We’re gonna save Hunter and Chase.

“Here, kitty kitty,” Chase’s voice called, and Hunter stopped in his tracks, turning toward where Chase stood on the stairs, the panther in him coming all the way to the surface, looking for its human. Behind Chase stood Hawk.

Hunter opened his mouth in shock. Chase looked devastated, but so, so hungry. “Chase,” Hunter said, quietly, working his mouth helplessly. He doubted Chase could hear it in all this commotion.

“Come here, Panther,” he continued, and Hunter found himself walking, then stumbling over his feet hurrying. The smile on Hawk’s face was damning. Chase extended two fingers and Hawk spat on them with perfect aim. It was insult to injury. Hunter had been betrayed by his best friend, and Hawk was just sealing the deal.

Hunter stopped in front of Chase and stared helplessly. Hunter’s identity as a pet had been built from trust between pet and owner, the certainty that owner would treat pet right. To the rational part of Hunter, Chase was breaking that trust. But Hunter had become the panther to survive, and that part of him was too loud, now. He had to believe in his owner.

At least he’d be with his best friend after they became SPIT’s live-in sluts.

Hunter leaned forward and lapped the spit off Chase’s fingers. It tasted exquisite. The satisfaction as it slid down his throat was as emotional as it was palpable. He was a lickspit—but he was also a panther, and he knew his owner would feed him with the best of prey.

“Come with us, Panther,” Hawk said, airily, gesturing up the stairs. In a moment of terrible, terrible weakness, Hunter wanted to give in, to accept Hawk as his owner, too. Everything that mattered about that name would vanish under Hawk’s rule. He’d be a slut. Just a slut. What kind of panther was that?

No. Hawk didn’t understand the name. He didn’t deserve it. Hawk wanted to trap him and Chase, turn them into hungry Surrogates? Fine. All of SPIT would be at his fingertips again. He’d be a terror like they’d never seen. They’d kick him out and he’d pull Chase with him. He would make them regret ever crossing the Hunter and the Chase.

Or he’d lose his days and nights serving every frat boy who wanted it. Could Hawk do that to him? Could Hawk turn the henna into a real tattoo, order SPIT to fuck him into submission so deeply that Hunter never came out?

He saw that smile on Hawk’s face, and he knew he was doomed.

But Hawk couldn’t have ‘Panther’. Hunter hissed like a cat, crossed his arms, and said, “You haven’t earned that name and you never will. If you want to order me around, talk to my master.”

Hawk made an angry growl—but he quickly regained composure and smiled like he knew he was already winning. “Chase,” he said, “tell your pet to follow us.”

Chase struggled with himself. Hunter hoped Chase would break Hawk’s spell, but he knew his friend was too far gone.

“If I can’t cum inside him, I can’t cum inside you, Chase. Choose carefully.”

Chase sagged. “Come up the stairs with us, Panther,” he said, dejected. “Hawk is gonna knock you up. Then he’s gonna do me. Please.”

Hunter told himself that Chase was leading him to prey—his final prey, Hawk. And then, shaking, he followed his owner into their new lives.