This is my first foray into homoerotic kink. It is NSFW, sexually explicit with flagellation. It is purely a work of fiction. I do not endorse this type of activity. ADULTS ONLY

“Dignity is a luxury of the well-fed and the free.”

The words struck at my core. I had not eaten in a week. What water I had came from the spring in the park. I trusted it. The City, when it last provided public health services, certified that it was safe to drink. That was when, 2—-? 2—? Not too long ago.

How Marco and his bounty hunters found me, I still wonder about. I guess I really had been nanochipped after all. Bruno lied about the vaccines then. The Bastard.

Bruno fed me all right. The crickets that were just then becoming available were the protein. After they molt, take the heads off, fry them in cottonseed oil, dump some cumin and paprika on them and maybe you really are eating the newly “discovered” land shrimp, that The Party’s Gourmet Page touts every other post.

You could close your eyes, dream you were eating something else, as long as their chirping stopped long enough before you ate them. You take what they give you here. Ginger Rogers had a steer tattooed on her arse, as if to say she was the only meat they could get right now. The joke worked well at the brothel, especially when the soldiers came. We were kindred spirits, after all. Our bodies and those of the soldiers were both State Property.

As pimps go, Bruno sufficed. He preferred to think of himself as a full spectrum recreational facilitator. I suppose he was what they once termed a bull shitter. Was that what they called them, back before the Protein Sequestration? We took a chance on being discovered and looked up the term bull on the Fact Portal. Myrna Loy knew the override code to reach the unexpurgated words. And there it was, a cow with a dick and balls instead of teats.

“In the old days, the bulls fucked the cows, and that’s how it all started. Pretty soon there would be a calf, the cow would give milk. And not long after that somebody figured out how to make ice cream, the real kind.

I stopped my daydreaming when Marco scanned the code on my chest. The screen that I could not see gave out the information the Data Reserve shared about me. Height, last calculated BMI (for Caloric Monitoring). Another would be performed to gauge how well I had been eating during the Free Range Interval. That would show how long I had been a fugitive. If the BMI was within acceptable range or higher, that usually meant a fugitive had not been free all that long.

“Did you flee of your own volition, or were you released for Training and Recreation?”

” Fled, Sir.” There was no use in lying. Released For Training Quarry were always thusly noted on their files.

” How long before you were bagged?

“Three weeks, Sir.”

“Quite a bit of sport, you turned out to be, Mr Cary Grant .”.

” Angelo, take Cary Grant, give him a scrub and brush down, use the #2 strap on him. Stop before you draw blood. Then let those interested, bugger him while he’s eating his oatmeal. If he gets high marks, feed him seconds, with extra sugar”.

So that’s how it would turn out.

The bath and the scrubbing felt good. Getting my pubes, my armpits, my head shaved, my arse crack and anus waxed was customary after any Free Range Interval. Keeps the lice in check, so they said. Actually I think it was the power trip that comes with a Fugitive Capture. Makes The Capture that much more ostentatious.

Bathed, shaved and waxed, a collar came back on, the GPS tracker double-checked, I was taken to the St. Andrew’s Cross, and beaten with the narrow #2 strap, that left lovely cross-hatched welts on my back. The sting was barely tolerable. I would NOT cry out. No blood was drawn.

Angelo had me kneel before him. He motioned for me to take his now blood engorged penis in my mouth and fellate him. I did as I was directed. It took little effort to bring Angelo off, taking him deep a few times, until I “polished” him off with my tongue. He was easy to please after he used the strap. Truth be told , I just wanted to get this cock sucked and squirted, the balls emptied, so I could eat food. Food for godsakes. Jizz is for the amateurs.

The bowl placed before me, I knelt down, mouth in the bowl , arse in the air ready to accept however many pricks and dildoes were pressed against my anus. I stretched easily, more interested in food than buggery.

Typical, in so many ways, of a capture in the Game World. Maybe one day I will make it to The Border. Yet I still loved The Sport.