He didn't know his real name anymore. They'd erased that. Scrubbed it from every system, etched a barcode in to the soft skin at the back of his neck, and designated him as Unit C-17-a "donor."' A stress relief unit for Level Ø. A body to break.
He was dragged through the final checkpoint, hands cuffed behind his back, bare feet scraping across the freezing steel floor of the descending lift. The guards didn't speak. They never did. Their expressions were neutral, but C-17 could feel it: the pity. Or maybe the hunger. The sick pleasure of sending another man down there, knowing what would happen.
Level Ø wasn't a place.
It was a sentence.
"Open the gate," one of the guards barked as they reached the bottom
Thick hydraulic doors hissed, revealing the darkness behind. It wasn't just dark- it was alive. The sound of breathing echoed in unnatural patterns. Chains rattled. Mucus dripped. Something let out a chuff, low and hungry, like a bull preparing to charge.
C-17 was shoved forward and the door slammed behind him, leaving nothing but pitch black, cold air, and the scent of damp stone and sweat. The cuffs released automatically with a hiss, clattering to the floor.
He didn't scream.
He moaned.
Something in him- something deeply broken- craved this.
The silence didn't last long.
From the shadows, massive limbs shifted. The foor trembled as the first beast emerged. Its body was slick with oil and filth, towering over him, hunched, panting like a rabid dog. Its tongue lolled from a mouth lined with rows of jagged teeth, nostrils flaring.
The beast stepped forward, sniffing him and let out a snarl. Long, thick claws wrapped around his arms, lifting him off the ground like a toy. C-17's legs dangled trembling. His cock, half-hard from the anticipation, twitched.
"P- please," he whispered, voice hoarse from past screams. "Use me."
The beast wasted no time. It slammed him face-first into the nearest wall of the cavern, thick tongue trailing down his spine. Rough claws tore away the thin fabric he wore- what little there was- leaving his pale body bare, shivering.
The beast's cock was massive, hot, and already dripping. It grunted, forcing his legs apart. One massive paw held him in place, pressing his face into the stone while the other yanked his hips up. He was exposed- open- and ready.
There was no stretch. No prep. No easing in.
The moment the head breached his rim, C-17 cried out, a guttural moan torn from his chest as the shaft plunged into him stretching him to the point of splitting. He sobbed, eyes rolling back, body twitching, as the beast thrust with merciless rhythm- raw and animalistic. The friction burned. Every push made his stomach bulge unnaturally. But he didn't beg it to stop.
He begged for more.
"Harder... don't stop..."
The beast snarled and rammed deeper, claws digging into his hips, fucking him until the stone cracked beneath them. His prostate was brutalized with every thrust, each one forcing out another moan, another string of drool from his lips.
His body shuddered violently when the beast came. Hot, thick, endless- flooding him. It didn't pull out. Just stayed inside twitching, swelling.
That's when the others came.
Four glowing eyes blinked open across the room. One massive hybrid, with tentacles for arms and a segmented exoskeleton slithered forward. Another, hunched with horns curling from its skull, crouched low.
They surrounded him. Watching. Waiting.
The first beast finally pulled out with a weird pop, his cum pouring down C-17's thighs in thick ropes, pooling beneath him.
Before he could fall, the tentacled one struck.
Its tendrils wrapped around his legs hoisting him up and flipping him mid-air. His hole gaped, red and leaking. Tentacles slithered between his cheeks, probing, sliding inside without resistance. One. Two. Three at once.
He screamed this time- not from pain.
From how full he felt. From the way they twisted, wriggling deeper, curling into him like worms. His back arched violently, hips jerking uncontrollably as another tendril latched onto his cock, stroking in time with the brutal rhythm inside him.
His body convulsed, eyes unfocused.
When he came, it was explosive. It splattered across his chest, his face, and still the tentacles didn't stop. They pushed deeper, milking him, stimulating every nerve until he couldn't tell if he was crying or laughing.
Then the horned beast stepped in.
It didn't need arms. Its tongue was barbed, slithering out to wrap around his cock licking, teasing, dragging over the tip. It didn't stop even as he whimpered, his nerves raw, his body quaking. Another tongue joined it, curling around his nipples, sucking so hard it left bruises.
C-17's mind fractured, voice reduced to incoherent babbling.
Still they didn't stop.
Hour after hour, beast after beast, hole after hole- his throat, his ass, his cock, even the slit of his urethra. They invaded every inch, made him their toy, their pleasure object, and he welcomed it.
At some point, the tentacled beast wrapped tendrils around his throat fucking his mouth while another filled him from behind. The rhythm was brutal syncing perfectly, making his entire body sway like a ragdoll.
And when he passed out, they didn't stop.
They tied him to the wall with living vines, arms spread, ass raised, mouth open. dripping. Even unconscious, his body twitched from stimulation. And as he woke- choking on the next beast's cock- he smiled.
"Again.." he croaked.
And they did. Again. And again. And again.
Unit C-17 didn't need to be fed anymore. They fed him their way.
He didn't need rest. His body was kept upright by muscle memory, nerves wired for overstimulation, pain warped into pleasure.
The court above had forgotten his name.
But Level Ø hadn't.
They knew him by scent now.
And when they needed relief.. they came to him.
Their permanent, favorite, willing cumdump.
And he never begged them to stop. Only to fill him more.