Mutant Alley: Ares, page 1
MUTANTALLEY
ARES
REX T. LOVESHAFT
Copyright © 2024 by Rex T. Loveshaft
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Alpha0
Cover design by Rex T. Loveshaft
Copyediting by Lyss Em and Pattarchus
No portion of his book may be reprinted in whole or in part in any form without written consent of the copyright holders. People, places, events, or organizations contained within these works are products of the author(s) imaginations or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real, nor does the fiction within represent the author’s viewpoints or opinions.
CONTENTS
1. Perverse New World
2. A Second Chance
3. The Eternal Assistant
4. The Plan
5. Old Friends
6. Welcome to Mutant Alley
7. The First Night
8. Delivery for the Doctor
9. Of Humans and Hybrids
10. The Second Night
11. Secrets
12. Date with Consequences
13. Back in the Lab
14. The Abyss
15. The Outbreak
16. The Escape
17. United Again
18. The Confession
19. A New Beginning
Thank you
Call to Action
About the Author
CHAPTER 1
PERVERSE NEW WORLD
ARES
Nightmares.
Images and impressions that are better left in the darkness of the reality they came from…yet I am condemned to relive them every night. The spirit of war has never left me, and I pay the price for my actions with every day of my life that remains.
There was a time when I was the nightmare of others. The nightmare and, at the same time, the only hope of those who resurrected the beasts of the past to win a lost war. Our bodies were their weapon, our blood was their shield, and their thanks for our sacrifice was contempt.
Even though we now live among them as outcasts, I remember the time when our creators treated us with reverence and respect rather than disgust, and even though things have fundamentally changed since then, one aspect of our shared existence always remains: they fear me...and I want them to. I want—
“Say my name, dino bitch!”
—to fall over dead.
The guy behind me, who’s having fun with my ass, is my last customer for the night, and he’s by far one of the most annoying I’ve had in a long time. A skinny, unkempt, middle-aged guy with shoulder-length blond hair and a short, also blond goatee. He’s wearing an old, sweaty yellow muscle shirt; frayed, dirty jeans; and a baseball cap printed with the logo of some prewar brand. Judging by the smell of oil on his clothes, he could a mechanic, but I’m not really interested in such details about my customers as long as they pay me. Judging by the ring on his right hand, he is married—no real surprise to me, since many of my customers are. During the day, they pretend to be loyal spouses and model men and women, and then at night, they live out their dirty fantasies with me in this dark back alley to escape their boring, monotonous sex lives. This particular client seems to be into domination—lucky me. As I’ve never seen him in my territory before, I wonder what prompted his visit. Maybe his wife found his secret fetish porn and stopped having sex with him, or caught him secretly wearing her clothes. Whatever it was, he seems convinced that it might help to blow off some steam on a 2.7-meter-tall T. rex hybrid. Humans.
Although this guy has paid me to lift my tail for him, there are limits for me too, and playing the submissive bitch to a five-five half-monkey who has to stand on an empty beer crate to fuck me is clearly going too far. Without giving him a glance, I growl back at him, “That’s not going to happen, meat!”
His reply follows promptly. “I paid you! You’re mine!”
Did the guy just slap me on the butt? Every muscle in my body suddenly tenses as if I’ve been struck by lightning.
This time, I give him a snarling look over my shoulder and threaten him. “Do that again, primate, and I’ll feed you a banana you might choke on!” I can’t believe this idiot has actually just slapped me.
My reaction is completely unexpected for him, and he recoils with a shrill scream, causing the crate to shake under his feet. For a brief moment, it looks as if he is going to lose his balance, but he regains his footing at the last second.
Trembling and visibly frightened, he stammers, “T...I’m sorry...I guess something got away from me...can...can we go on?”
Damn, he’s stubborn. I sigh and nod slowly at him. This is a new low, even by my standards. As the primate begins to fuck me some more, I wonder if I’m really that desperate to have to endure this kind of humiliation and come to the painful realization that I am. I hate myself.
While the primate behind me continues to exert himself, I let my mind wander. How could it have come to this? Me, an apex predator, made to kill and having to let a degenerate half-monkey fuck me in a dark back alley to ensure my survival. What a perverse new world. There was a time when I was at the top of the food chain, a time when I was the decider of life and death, and even though I feel no pride for many of the things I had to do in the war, at least I was given the respect I deserved. But times have changed; I am no longer a soldier, and like it or not, I have to face this new reality. My status as a hybrid does not allow me to work a normal job, and I do what I have to do to survive, even if it means selling my body to anyone who is willing to pay the price. What a generous reward from our creators for winning their damn war. Before I can even finish the next thought, the shrill and unpleasant voice of my client brings me back to the here and now.
“Hell yeah, you’re feeling me now, aren’t you, boy?”
No. Not even a tickle. I roll my eyes in annoyance and resist the urge to give the monkey a lesson in Darwinism and rip his throat out. I can feel my muscles tense as I tear this joke of a primate to shreds in my mind’s eye. I have to calm myself down. I can’t afford to lose another customer...but what if I only bite off one of his hands this time? I push the thought out of my mind and try to relax again. I slowly lower my head toward the ground, close my eyes, and take in the warm, stuffy evening air of the city with a deep, slow breath. My sense of smell is many times superior to that of a human; with a single breath, I can distinguish the subtlest nuances of my surroundings, even miles away. What is usually an advantage when hunting or on the battlefield turns out to be more of a disadvantage in this environment because I would rather block out many of the smells I pick up in this alley. It’s a quiet night, and the monotonously pulsating backdrop of city noises is only broken from time to time by the occasional wail of police sirens. They are far away, which is good for me.
Even if society and its justice system don’t give a damn about our well-being, they are all the more committed to preventing and prosecuting sexual encounters between humans and hybrids. Although, after the end of the war, all hybrids were released from the BioShield project into civil society for cost reasons, they were not granted the rights of normal citizens. Quite a few citizens even demanded the destruction of the remaining hybrids, but they feared a renewed strengthening of the separatist movement and did not want to recklessly dispose of their most important weapon against it. Confronted with their new role as outsiders within the society that once protected them and without the right to work regular jobs, many of the hybrids felt compelled to capitalize on the only resource they had left: their bodies. Even though society despises us, a not insignificant number of people are interested in paying to live out their sexual fantasies with one of us. When a commercial industrial market for hybrid pornography was finally established, the government was forced to intervene and passed several laws to stop all sexual acts between humans and hybrids. While humans who violate these laws face heavy fines and imprisonment, hybrids are sentenced to death in all cases. But even with the knowledge of the ultimate price we will pay if caught, we still have no choice...at least not for those of us who want to survive.
I return to the here and now and realize to my disillusionment that the primate behind me is still not done with my ass. It’s not that I generally have a problem with anal sex, but I usually only practice it with partners I trust and with whom I have a special connection...or if, as in this case, the price is right. Even though it shouldn’t really bother me in this situation, I can’t help but notice how damn small this man’s penis is, even by human standards. I’m convinced that even a goddamn compy could steal the show. I wouldn’t be surprised if his wife sees it the same way and one day pays me a visit in this alley to get it right at least once. Just thinking about it makes me hard, and I quickly push the thought aside. I don’t want to give any false signals of arousal in this situation. Not in this position and certainly not with this—
“Oh yes, you like that, don’t you, Rex?”
-goddamn monkey. His shrill voice sounds behind me again. “Are you ready to be refueled, Rex?”
God, please let it end.
A few moments later, which nevertheless feel like half an eternity to me, the monkey finally seems to be approaching his climax. He is now thrusting faster and faster, even more uncontrollably than before. He moans and gasps like a complete idiot, as if he is about to have a heart attack. I’m ashamed for both of us. Then finally, after one last awkward thrust, he empties himself into my ass. I can barely feel his semen flow, and I have to grin at the thought of his previous cocky ann
“Uh, you’ve been a good boy!”
I dare you to pat my head, and I’ll bite your fucking hand off.
“Don’t worry, big guy, Daddy will be back soon to give it to you again.”
Okay, I’ll eat him. I slowly straighten up and turn to face him as he’s busy rearranging his clothes. As I watch him frantically fiddling with his trousers under the glow of an old, flickering neon sign, I can’t help but notice how weak and frail this person looks to me. This specimen of the almighty species that has brought me and my brothers and sisters back from the dead to do its dirty work is a truly worthy representative of its kind. This tiny man, with this tiny cock, fucks me as thanks for my sacrifices in this goddamn back alley. I’m just disgusted.
While the monkey seems to continue to worry about his clothes, I notice that he is sneaking glances at me, or rather what is between my legs. As a hybrid, I have very minimal, if any, use for clothing. Since my body is my capital and I like to show off my attributes to potential clients, I work exclusively naked. Once again, the primate gives my best piece a brief but meaningful glance. That’s right, “Daddy,” mine is bigger than yours. I can’t blame him for his voyeurism; my penis is the length of his forearm. There’s a reason they call me the king of the dinosaurs. Even though I’m amused by how much my big T. rex cock impresses him, I just want to get out of here. I want to get this damn night over with, but when he gives me another look, I just can’t help myself and take my chance to return the favor for his amateurish alpha-male show earlier.
“Do you like my cock?”
My question doesn’t fail to have an effect. He straightens up as if moved by thunder and stares at me with his mouth open, clutching his waistband with both hands...Cute.
“Do...do I like what?” he replies, stuttering and, to my barely concealed satisfaction, visibly unsettled. Spurred on by his reaction to my question, I decide to make the situation a little more awkward for him. I set my massive body in motion and slowly approach him. I make sure that every step I take causes my massive cock to swing back and forth between my muscular thighs. The man seems completely paralyzed, and I can see the growing fear in his eyes more and more clearly now. I’ve missed that look. As we stand directly in front of each other, he barely reaches up to the bottom of my chest. Slowly I lean down to him and bring my mouth close to his left ear. I can almost taste his fear now and let the words flow out of my mouth with relish and in absolute silence.
“Do you like my bigger...”—I make a gentle thrust with my hips, letting my cock slap against the crotch of his pants with a wet thud—“juicy...”—I poke him again—“T. rex cock?”
I slowly pull my head back again and bring my face directly in front of his, to meet him face-to-face and not miss even the smallest detail of his reaction. The man is pale as chalk and stares at me with his eyes wide open. It’s almost as if he’s going to faint at any moment, and I’m enjoying every second of the sight. The corners of his mouth start to quiver, and it looks as if he is actually trying to answer my question. I tilt my head slightly to the side and bare my fangs in a wide grin. Say it. Say the words I want to hear, human.
Slowly and hesitantly, the monkey finally manages to get the words past his lips. “I...I’ve always wanted to try something there...how much for another hour?”
Goddamn it!
CHAPTER 2
A SECOND CHANCE
DR. WILLIAMS
Something is different about me. I stand in my bathroom and take a good look at my own reflection. The man in the mirror looks tired and worn out. His hair, already starting to turn gray, is wild and unkempt. But I can still see something in his eyes that I thought he had lost forever: hope.
I have to smile as I listen to myself feeling sorry for myself. I’m only forty-five years, old and I’m still a long way from being old, even if I sometimes feel that way. However, despite my exaggerated melancholy about my advancing age, not a day goes by that I don’t think about my work for the BioShield project, and I miss that time. I realize that BioShield was a child of war, but even with the immeasurable suffering it brought to all parties involved, it helped us push the boundaries of what was possible many times over. Even if most people wouldn’t understand it and I would never say it out loud, the war gave me the opportunity of a lifetime, and I will never regret having taken it. On the contrary, I wouldn’t have it any other way. When it became clear that the separatists would win the war, the government promoted every conceivable project to avert the looming defeat. The BioShield project, launched by some of our country’s leading biologists, aimed to create more effective soldiers by hybridizing humans and animals. Soldiers who would not need training to know how to kill and whose senses would make expensive technical equipment unnecessary in the face of dwindling resources. The only question was which species to choose. The scientists quickly came to the conclusion that, although mammals were superior to cold-blooded animals in terms of possible applications, they did not have the robustness and self-healing abilities of reptiles or birds, for example. It was therefore decided to use a species that had all these abilities, and whose genetic material was still so unknown that it would not be easy for the other side to develop a targeted biological warfare agent, such as a virus, against it in the short term. One of the eighth district’s paleontology faculties had successfully extracted and sequenced dinosaur DNA several years ago, but the publication of their results went largely unnoticed, overshadowed by the outbreak of war. The BioShield project eventually acquired several complete genomes of various predatory dinosaur species, and we set out to make our vision a reality. Since traditional cloning of a species takes a lot of time and the hybrids would have to grow to an operational age, we decided on a groundbreaking new application and acquired the patents of a biotech company specializing in the development of growth accelerators and artificial placentas. After only six months of research, the BioShield project finally had its first major breakthrough, and we managed to grow a viable and operational hybrid in just three months. The first field tests were promising, and the government finally approved further funding for the project. The first generation of dinosaur hybrids was finally deployed in 2106. The effectiveness of the hybrids in combat was unprecedented, and the tide turned in our favor within a few months. Further generations of hybrids followed, and we finally managed to win the war in the winter of 2107. It was not soldiers or hybrids that won this war, but us scientists and our unyielding will to innovate and progress. The end of the war marked the beginning of a time of hope and new beginnings for most people, but for me and many other scientists working for the BioShield project, it would soon mean the end of our shared dream. In my opinion, we clearly chose the wrong side.
I sigh and take a look at my watch. The display shows 3:30. My god, I’ve actually been up for more than forty-eight hours, but I don’t have time to lie down; there’s still a lot of work to do. I leave the bathroom and hurry back down the corridor toward the lab. I finally reach the large heavy security door labeled “Caution: Biohazard” and frantically reach for the key card in my pocket to swipe it through the card reader. The display next to the reader shows “Access Granted” in green letters, and the door opens with a loud pneumatic hiss. I enter the darkened room, in the center of which four workstations are arranged on a large round table, and drop into one of the office chairs. I close my eyes for a moment and listen to the quiet electrical hum of the equipment that fills the room around me. Just as my thoughts begin to drift off and my state of consciousness slowly shifts from waking to sleeping, the notification sound from one of the workstations suddenly snaps me out of my doze. I open my eyes abruptly and wait, frozen, still leaning back in my office chair, for the AI to announce the results.
