Subject 91

A Steady Ground


By Tict

A steady ground. A hard, stable surface upon which to walk, run, live... He felt as if he was waking from a terrible nightmare. The kind of terrible nightmare that faded quickly with the state of sleeping but left one trembling, sweating.

A steady ground. Yes, he was waking from a terrible dream, but what he was waking to, he did not know. That moment of disorientation just before reason and logic where the world seems like an alien place. Except, for him, the reality did not come.

His name... He reached out into the inky black void of his mind, grasping for information that should be there at his fingertips, ready for him to produce as an instinct. But it wasn't there.

None of it was. How old was he? Where did he live? How did he get here? Where was he?

All of these questions circled his mind, asking themselves in different ways. Backwards, forwards, sideways. Yet, still, the answers did not come.

He stood up from the smouldering wreckage of the building surrounding him. Carefully, he climbed towards a far away light. He slipped several times as he made his way through broken stone, metal and glass. Finally, he stood on solid, even ground. Asphalt. He looked down at his hands and finally his feet. A part of him knew that both should be covered in cuts, welts and burns, but they were in tact. No pain.

He frowned slightly as he looked down at his hand. Glass, Asphalt, he knew these things, yet he did not know his name. He knew the object next to him was called a car. That it was made in 2002 by a company - a company? - named Chevy and was called an Impala. The color: blue. The tires, bald.

Flashing lights. Red, white, blue. He felt his abdomen tighten in a combination of fear and relief. Those colors meant safety but also danger. Why danger? Why danger? A part of him, a distant part of him screamed at him to run, to go. Another part urged him to stay.

Before he knew it, his legs were moving and the ground flew beneath his feet. Air roared in his ears as he approached the far white lights. He came to a stop as he reached the lights and several things happened at once. The cars standing next to the strange columns shook and started screaming. The lights above flickered. Then several people ran out of a door and began yelling.

He tried to understand why they seemed so... angry. He just needed to know where he was. He looked around as the people continued to yell at him but found no indication of where he was. He turned to the rest of the people and tilted his head. "Where am I?"

One person threw his hands up, "Great, he doesn't speak fucking english."

"Sounds like Chinese," a woman said softly.

"Who the hell goes walking around naked at two o'clock in the mornin' at a gas station?"

"Probably some frat boy."

"Poor thing, someone get him a blanket or something."

The blanket they provided smelled like stale sweat and smoke. Sweat... Smoke... He looked up at the surrounding faces. As time passed, they began to show worry. "I don't know what my name is," he said softly.

"Where did you come from?"

He frowned and searched his thoughts. Still, no answers. "I don't know."

"Let's get him cleaned up and take him down to the police station, maybe he's like, you know, retarded?"

"Doesn't look retarded to me."

The man again felt his stomach tighten. Fear. That word. Police. No, he couldn't go to that... Police Station. A man put a hand on his shoulders. He looked old. There were lines in his face around his mouth and eyes. This man smiled alot. He like him. Gently, the old man led him to a room whose smell sickened him. There were small walls inside and a white... thing mounted to the wall. Urinal, the word came.

"You need to use the bathroom, son?" the old man asked.

He looked at the old man for a moment. Yes, he had to use the bathroom. He nodded. The man guided him to the urinal and gestured for him to go. He went. As he did, the man spoke.

"That's the biggest one I've ever seen on a man," he remarked idly. "Yer mom musta bred with a horse if you know whata mean." The old man laughed. He looked back at the old man. A horse... "Yer big too, muscles and everythin'. Not as big as somma those boys down at the beach, mind ya, but big enough."

He flushed and moved over to the sink to... wash his hands? He turned on the water and ran his hands under it. After a few moments he looked up into the mirror. Smoke, grime and dirt covered his features and made his black hair grey. But it was him. The reflection moved with him, so it must be him. His eyes travelled down from his moonlight pale eyes, across his bronze skin and finally to a marking on his chest.

"Ninety-one," the old man remarked over his shoulder.

Ninety one. The numbers done in gothic - gothic? "Ninety-one. Is that my name?"

"Nah, don't think so. Then 'gain I could be wrong," the old man shrugged. "Got girls out here named Bonifa. But I suppose you need a name. How about... Nine? First name Nine, last name One?"

He frowned slightly, then nodded. "Nine."

"Alright, Nine, wash your face and I'll get you to the police station," the old man said.

"What is your name?" Nine asked.

"Me? Oh, Will," the old man replied.

"Will, I cannot go to the police," Nine stated clearly as he leaned his face down and rubbed it with water.

"Why not?" Will asked, curious. A dawning comprehension lit his face. "You're runnin from the law. That's why you're naked and that's why you got that tattoo!" Fear quickly replaced comprehension. The man took a deep breath as if to yell as he scrambled backwards towards the door, then froze.

Nine jerked his head up out of the water and caught the man with his gaze. He felt something click within him as he looked into the man's eyes and felt his body grow warm. His sharp gaze quickly turned into one of lust. His cock swelled and he knew that it must be dealt with. Now.

Nine felt the man's will break under his gaze and in moments old Will dropped to his knees forcing his first cock down his throat. Nine leaned back against the wall of the small bathroom and let out a long moan as Will sucked harder and harder, trying to pull Nine's orgasm from his body. Slowly, Nine began moving his hips, forcing his cock back and forth between Will's lips.

His body felt as if it were on fire as he was thrown upwards and over the pinnacle of his climax, forcing jet after jet down Will's throat. Nine's orgasm ripped from his throat in a primal roar that did not end until the last shot ebbed from his softening cock. Will fell back onto the ground, clutching at his stomach as Nine stepped out of the bathroom. An old woman looked up at Nine in fear then rushed into the bathroom at her husband's cries.

"Oh my god, Will!" she screamed. "You're... growing!"

Nine glanced back and saw Will's pant leg explode with muscle before he looked back out over the dark expanse of the world. Like his mind, it's secrets lay hidden in the murky black. Who was he? Nine? That couldn't be his name, yet it felt right.

Nine. One.

End •

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