He hacked, the repulsive sound of it hitting the air abruptly; he then tilted his head back before spitting into the dust. The tiny mess of saliva he'd produced from the back of his throat, compiled of not only spit but flem, had missed the boy's hip bone by a little less than an inch. Instead, it lay there in the sand, particles of dust swirling in the center of it.
Conner didn't have a doubt in his mind that this thing had meant to spit on him- but, he figured, the shape that its mouth was in had caused the creature to fail.
The sun beat down on the exposed, milky flesh of his arms, neck and face. The heat was disorientating, though it was less so than the blow he'd received to his head a few moments ago.
His memory was a garbled mess- the last thing that he could fully grasp from what had been occuring previously was driving down the road, the sky unendingly blue, but halting to a stop after experiencing the loud, dreadful bang and rough bumping motion that had signaled to him that his tires had blown.
"What the..." He'd scrutinized the holes, confused profoundly as to what could have made them. He remebered, lastly, a grunt behind him- then roaring blackness encumbering him before he could flip around.
He'd awoken, unsure how long he'd been gone from the world or where he was presently at in it. Ropes were biting his wrists and ankles painfully, his arms tied uncomfortably behind his back. Blood blurred his vision further. It dripped, crimson water, down his forehead; down into his eyes, over his cheeks and rolling off his chin. He could taste the copper-y flavor by which blood was always accompanied, could smell it. The back of his head throbbed and stung, making him wince. He attempted to force words from his throat but only managed an inaudible cracking sound.
Perhaps, this creature was his assailent. It hovered over him, looking him over shamelessly. It was thin and limber in form, he'd managed to catch that right away dispite the glaring sun It was standing before darkening his veiw.
He began to see that it was also a male; the slight muscle that showed itself on the being's exposed and vaguly tanned arms pointed to this, as well as the build of his torso. But the face was what had made him squint hard, the features of which were framed by grey-ish and messy hair and consisted of the most contorted mess he'd ever seen.
The lip was severly cleft, pulled upward, and the teeth were yellow and ragged. The bottom jaw had a peculiar look to it as well, the teeth jutting out stangely, the gums over exposed; it also seemed as if it hung down a bit loosely.
"Pretty lil' girls drivin' out here by themselves?" To Conner's displeasure, the hideous form before him leaned down closer toward him, running a dirt splayed finger across his forehead with a chuckle. The creature, maybe inadvertantly, smeared the blood in a thick, drying line from the center to his temple.
...Girls? There were no girls here.
"Pluto," The ugly face turned, looking at something off to his right. "Pick 'er up."
...'Er? As in "her"?
A bigger form appeared before Conner's sight. Uglier than the first creature, yet more apathetic in countennance. It grabbed him by his thin waist with one arm, vaulting him over his shoulder carelessly. He had before found himself unable to speak, but now he was able to emmit small groans of protest from the back of his throat. A long sliver of bloody drool had formed at his lip and now stretched down toward the hot sand where he'd been before placed. He had been thrown over the bigger creature's shoulder backwards, eyeballing the dirty clothes adorning the beings back, his stomach pressing against its heavy shoulder.
He continued his groans, barely managing to form the word "stop" over and over.
And of course that hadn't worked. Begging for your life didn't work in the movies and it didn't work in real life, either. The rough and lumbering way the being walked- or rather, skulked- was bumping him up and down carelessly. He closed his eyes, sleep pulling his eyelids shut again.
"Ya fuckin' retard," Lizard's hand smacked down hard against his cousin's shoulder, spawning a loud but smothered popping sound. "Keep makin' so much noise and they're gonna find us out."
The beheamoth's rage was surprisingly unincited. He possibly wasn't aware that, in order to shut his smaller cousin up, all he had to do was wrap his hands around his neck or snap his back into. Evidently, though, he failed to realize his own strength.
Conner had blinked, awake once more. His thoughts were alive again, however he still couldn't grasp the entirety of the situation. Goosebumps prickled his skin as he began to become aware of the large creature's arm still wrapped around his waist, still holding him up on his shoulder.
"Where...am..?" His voice cracked weakly.
"Bitch is awake," Lizard sneered. "Hurry it up."
The heat was suddenly gone, shade covering his body. He now found himself watching the eternal desert before him disappear through an entrance. Maybe a cave of sorts; but, Conner could not at all tell. Soon, the outside was utterly gone from his sights, now hidden behind two dirty sheets of cloth serving as a form of "door" to whereever these things were taking him.
He was thrown to the ground nonchalantly. He was now, again, looking into the disfigured face of the mutant. Lizard grabbed him roughly, the clink clank sound of chains becoming apparent to the human, as well as the sweet release of his wrists from the ropes that bound him. Unfortunatly, the biting pain was replaced with the cold feel of metal wrapping around one wrist, then the other.
Shackles.
More were placed around his ankles. Realization had hit him, as well as the ability to move vaguly. He jerked his arm, expecting with fear for it to be haulted short by the restricting chains- rather, he discovered, the chains were surprisingly long. His pupils slid down to look them over; They were lengthy, from what he could see, coiled like rusty, dead snakes on the floor.
"What is this," Fear was blatant in his voice and tone which shook and cracked.
The mutant, looked at him with his clear, blue eyes, a smirk spreading as far across his mouth as his malformed jaw and lip would allow. He emmited a throaty chuckle.
"Poor lil' girl."
"I-"
"Must be young. Yer a small thing, aint ya?" His voice held a hint of southern drawl. He spoke quietly, sadism marked clearly in his eyes.
"You've got it all wro-"
His sentance was cut short not by the mutant's own voice this time, but his hands grabbing the hem of his shirt.
"You don't look like ya got much in the tit department but that's fine," Another snicker. "I like any kinda tit, big 'er small."
"I'm not a-!"
His shirt was yanked upward, his thin frame exposed; his ribs could be seen vaguly underneath his pale flesh, his skin squeezing them tightly with each inhale. Those clear eyes laid on his nipples. Conner, of course, had no breasts.
"Gk," The mutant's face grew red; possibly anger or embarassment- perhaps both. "The hell is-?"
"I...I tried to tell you. I'm not a girl."
"Ohhhh..." The hulking figure known as Pluto moaned behind Lizard's crouched body, as if coming to some sort of understanding.
That mistake wasn't entirely the fault of Lizard. Conner was lithe, lanky. His hair was almost down to the top of his shoulders, but hung about four inches or more above them; it was bleached blonde and flat as a board. His facial features were feminine and the clothes he was wearing weren't the exact epitome of masculinity, either. Conner was a "pretty" boy, no matter how you looked at him. However, now, it had earned him a hard smack across the face. He'd squeaked as the pain crashed into him abruptly, stinging profoundly.
This was supposed to be his very own slave; one that he wouldn't have to share with the family, one that he could do what he pleased with. Lizard had spent time and effort in finding his own hiding spot and getting together all that he needed to keep a human being prisoner. And when it boiled down to him capturing said prisoner, it turned out to be a fucking guy.
Anger had exploded in the pit of his gut and he gnashed his teeth together, snarling, to display it. This was this little cunt human's fault. It had been weeks since cars came through close enough to their territory- and Lizard had been biding his time, plotting to catch the first woman that came through before the others got the chance. He'd waited so long, strung out his plan 'till his head hurt.
He had no patience left to wait for another person. This boy was his, whether the little bitch liked it or not. He had his slave.