WARNING (PLEASE READ!): This warning is not chapter specific but each chapter's probably going to contain some of the following. On top of being a sexually graphic yaoi, there is rape, torture, verbal and physical abuse, self-harm, eating disorders (anorexia) and just a lot of generally bad stuff in here. If you're sensitive to any of these things, please don't read this. Otherwise, enjoy! Also, this story takes places just before the events of Bleach.

Mayuri Kurotsuchi was a person whose existence and philosophy orbited around one word. Imperfect. If something were to be perfect, it would have to be an absolute proof with not only an equation to back it up but physical evidence as well. Physical evidence, however, was always reduced to the beholder's perception. As clever as even a Shinigami Captain may be, the infinitesimally small building blocks of life still squiggled erratically around the more they were analyzed, becoming fickle mysteries when their privacy was invaded. Mayuri loved this nonsense of reality and basked in the tenuous uncertainty that he was made of nothing but question marks.

Every Shinigami, even Zaraki, had a past that solidified into something coherent enough to grasp. But Mayuri, even through the capacity of his genius mind, had no idea where or who he'd been before the Maggot's Nest. Time was unrelenting in the world of the dead. When the first fifty years had slid him by, he'd been counting by the seconds. Whoever he'd been before was completely lost by insanity and it was impossible to miss a forgotten memory.

The first thing he really remembered was being something both outwardly and inwardly vicious. He'd cut off his own ears and made better ones. His face had become something so absolutely personal that he'd made it go away to anyone who dared to look. He'd been sequestered to a cell because blood and ash made a good mask. All he knew was that the cruel certainty of his jailers and their control over him had made him this way.

The past was a very stupid thing to focus on but in his current situation, he was forced to at least try to remember whatever had brought him into this conundrum. He was as near death as a Shinigami could possibly be outside of a battle and the smells and sounds around him were of the Fourth Division. Lavender and other herbs overpowered the strong reek of antiseptic that betrayed his own, more sinister Division. Even though his body hung in a web of uncertainty, Retsu Unohana's presence was inevitable.

"Captain Kurotsuchi," she said. "You're here because you're starving to death and there is severe trauma to your skull. There are several other wounds that seem to pertain to something I could only describe as sexual. Captain Yamamoto knows of your condition and once you're healed, you have a lot of explaining to do. Being a Captain isn't a joke, it's a huge responsibility… of all Shinigami, I thought you knew that more than anyone else."

It would be almost impossible for any Shinigami to starve to death, thought Mayuri. Although we do need to eat, just water will certainly keep us alive. That was a scientific fact and as a Captain, he had food and water to spare. The physical trauma sounded even more ludicrous. He could heal himself with an efficiency that terrified even Yamamoto. The rest of what that fox faced bitch had said was utter nonsense; he chose to ignore it as information. A sexual injury? Was this woman neurotic as well as stupid? He imagined himself sticking his tongue out and flipping her off but reality was too broken up. He felt as though he was falling yet weightless and unbidden memories gripped at him like lurking, unrelenting monsters.

X X X

"I love you," said a pathetic, emaciated creature. Tears were cutting down its mask and there was an imposing, impossibly large figure looming over it. Mayuri had no idea what this memory was. Why did it feel so new to him? Kisuke Urahara was someone he'd forgotten all that time ago. He'd vanished from Soul Society all those years ago and that was all Mayuri told himself he knew.

"You're not thin enough," said Kisuke. "Are you too daft to know that I just want you to disappear?"

Mayuri was far from normal and his body accommodated sex from many, many modifications. He was riding Kisuke's cock and his tight ass only hurt in a good way. His throat felt like it had been similarly abused but the nerves had long been severed. Amidst the waves of pleasure, Mayuri did feel rather light. He'd always been thin. There were female Shinigami who weighed more than him! But there was something that weighed more than anything and it was his utter, undying devotion for Kisuke.

"Why?" he managed to ask, grasping his cock and trying not to cum first.

"Because I hate you."

In the present, wrapped in the impersonal warmth of the Fourth, Mayuri bit the pillow under his head and cried as silently as he could.

X X X

As one of the more experienced Captains, Jūshirō Ukitake felt it was his responsibility to occasionally help with the Fourth Division. Healers were the most important part of an army and to ignore or berate them was not only impractical but rude. He even sent over his own squadron on a regular basis to help with their tasks. Tonight however, his benevolent demeanor was threatening to slip as he hurried to a very specific room in the sick bay.

He despised Captain Kurotsuchi. However, the man's mere presence let alone his injuries were outrageous enough to warrant summoning Ukitake with a Hell Butterfly. Even Unohana couldn't handle this hysterical maniac! Well, it was his duty to protect and to serve, right? He envied other Captains whose jobs were more obtuse. Even Shunsui, his best friend, would shrug at this level of responsibility. Absolutely no one liked Mayuri; they just tolerated his brilliance. He was crucial to the Gotei 13 but brushed under the rug like a dirty secret all the same. If he someday wound up to be a villain, it wouldn't surprise a soul.

Ukitake knew he was getting close to his destination when he finally encountered Retsu, her face frozen in that placid grin she managed to wear. She gave a nod toward the room in question, gave a particularly deep bow, then brushed by him. She had plenty of other sick people to attend to and Mayuri was ruining it all, her bow said. Ukitake forced his own attitude to be polite as he braced himself, opening the door and wishing it led to anywhere else.

Mayuri was turned away from him, curled up on the cot, clenching a pillow. If it weren't for the devices that replaced his ears, Ukitake never would've guessed his identity. The scientist looked very young and his skin, somehow, was tan. It was unreasonably shocking to see that he was just a person. It was a joke around the Gotei that maybe he always looked like a painted monster, that the black and white he wore was permanent along with the mask. This was someone whose body – clothed by a sheet that hid only his lower half - had many traversing scars but looked more vulnerable than any Captain he'd bared witness to. He had exotic hair, a thick blue mohawk that clung in damp rivulets down his neck, and his form was even slighter than what his comrades had guessed in their gossip.

"Which insufferable idiot is it now?" came Mayuri's muffled voice from the pillow. "I may be weak at the moment but I am more than capable of killing you." A spike of reiatsu accompanied the words, stronger than sin itself. Ukitake noticed that Ashisogi Jizō, the most nefarious of Zanpakutō, was also in the room, resting against a night stand. If Mayuri had a fit of pique, he could poison the entire Fourth Division before anyone could stop him. Why hadn't Retsu taken it away? Probably because of this same very conundrum.

Ukitake decided on a combination of caution and compassion. He quickly chanted to seal the room, shutting out any poison or argument that could leak outside.

"Captain Kurotsuchi," he greeted with stiff formality. "I'm here to see if I can attend to your injuries."

A very uncomfortable eternity seemed to pass until Mayuri finally sat up and showed his face. He'd been crying and Ukitake never would've assumed that those gold eyes could possibly look doe-like. The injuries he'd sustained became very immediately obvious, ranging from bruises to bitemarks to a split on his lip. He grinned but it was mirthless.

"You're seeing me naked, Jūshirō," he laughed. "You've also sealed us in a room together. Are you trying to fuck me? I am capable of satisfying you if you'll just go away when you're done."

Ukitake was a very pale man and when he blushed, it was all too obvious. He was no stranger to casual sex – with both men and women – but to hear an invitation from this man? Right now? It was so out of place he just opened his mouth for a second then shut it. The idea was ludicrous. "I'm not here for that," he finally managed to say. "Do you have a fever? There are several remedies I can provide you." There wasn't a single place to sit in the room, just Mayuri's cot, so he crossed his arms and shifted nervously on his feet.

"I can give you what's become of my throat," said Mayuri. "If I start to die from air loss, just stab me with Ashisogi Jizō and I'll become slime for a while. Perhaps I'll ooze back to my own Division."

"Mayuri-"

"Just do it. I know you're not prudish. Your exploits are notorious."

Ukitake sat down on the bed. He was here to heal, not to harm, but this bastard was offering up something no one ever wanted to do – suck his cock. He had such a big dick it was hard to fit it anywhere, let alone a throat. When Mayuri enticingly licked his lips, letting his pink tongue show, it was enough motivation to make him loosen the waist of his pants. "Alright," he said. "I don't understand why you'd want to but alright."

It was around sunset and the room had no lights on so Mayuri's body was slightly less upsetting when he took the blanket off and knelt. The man's ribs were plainly visible and his stomach looked like a gap. There were even more bruises and bites on his thighs, some of them bad enough to have broken skin. If Ukitake was a better person he would have called it off right then and there. Instead, he did the opposite and pulled out his cock, almost impatient to see how deep that throat could go.

X X X

"Hey, idiot." Kisuke's voice was nothing new and all Mayuri could do was nod. He knew he was an idiot; why else would he be in the Maggot's Nest? He was tired from putting in his new ears and had bled a lot in the process.

"Remember your ears? Remember, after you cut them off, that I helped you create a device out of gold to replace them? Remember that you offered anything in return?"

Mayuri nodded again. He just wanted the sound of Kisuke's voice to go away because everything was too loud now.

Kisuke sauntered into the cell and flicked out a scalpel. "I'm going to modify your throat," he said. "And I'm not going to sedate you… that would be another waste of money."

X X X

To say that Mayuri was the best head Ukitake had ever received was an understatement. He felt utterly evil as he watched those lips sink lower and lower until his cock was jammed obscenely far into the man's throat – he could actually see its bulge distorting the thin neck. At some point he also swore he'd heard the distinct click of jaws unhinging to further accommodate his girth. His hips starting rocking slightly, accepting the surreal ecstasy that was befalling him, until Mayuri pulled away his mouth and gave him a wild, exasperated glare.

"Deeper." Mayuri's hands grabbed Ukitake's and guided them to his shock of blue hair. "It's impossible to make me gag. And don't feign kindness; it'll make you look even more stupid."

It was a little bit too easy as Ukitake granted Mayuri his wish, knotting the man's hair into his fists and fucking his throat without any consideration for life. When he looked down, close to cumming, Mayuri's eyes were drifted shut and a bluish pallor had reached his abused lips. Before guilt could even happen, the younger man grabbed his own cock and orgasmed; Ukitake followed closely, spilling his seed so deep it must've gone straight into his stomach.

The was a pause where he was so buzzed from the orgasm, he stroked Mayuri's hair and imagined they were starstruck lovers. However, the man's sudden, spasmodic gasps for air dispelled any sentimentality and the golden eyes, when they snapped open, were wet.

"We're done now," Mayuri rasped. "Why aren't you leaving?"

Ukitake was oddly taken aback. "I can't stay for a few more minutes with you?" he asked.

Mayuri's eyes became wetter and he hunched in upon himself, his mouth forming a half grinning snarl around his teeth. There was an old, pale scar across his nose that accentuated his expression and another that made a frowning crescent around his chin. There was a particularly obscene one that ran a vertical line over the side of his neck. None of his scars looked accidental; Ukitake wondered what modified horrors were compacted beneath. He'd seen the arm capability once. That was more than enough to elicit terror. It reminded him, sharply, that this wreck of a man was a Captain whose prowess in battle possibly exceeded his own. He wanted to console, to understand, but Mayuri's snarl only became more severe with every passing second.

"You are supposed to be gone," the scientist hissed, not moving his head away from the massage it was receiving but spiking his reiatsu hard enough to knock the wind out of Ukitake's lungs. "Flash step away before I turn you into a corpse."

Ukitake obeyed. He had no idea what else to do.

X X X

"How is your throat feeling?" Kisuke had been away for weeks and they were trying to play a game of Shogi through the cell's bars. Mayuri managed to shrug and grin as Kisuke moved a game piece. The jailer always won but Mayuri, several steps forward in his mind, feigned defeat each time. Pretending to be dumber than the egotistical blonde was fun, he supposed.

"What do you mean about my throat?" he asked. Some other jailers had used him as target practice hours earlier and there were arrows pierced through his body, barely missing vital points, so whatever had happened to his throat seemed absolutely irrelevant. If it wasn't for the leash on his reiatsu, he would've healed himself and left a bloody mist where the offenders had stood. As it was however, he'd had to sit there and take it like a pin cushion. Kisuke knew that no matter how smart Mayuri was, he'd eventually succumb to blood loss so this game had been going for a very long time just for that reason.

Mayuri laughed and blood poured out of his mouth, splattering over his already crusted and saturated garb like the color red was a fashion. Kisuke, amused, smiled. The game didn't matter at all if he'd been holding the upper hand from the start. The helpless bastard coughed up more blood, staggered back a step from his stool, then finally collapsed onto the floor. Kisuke waited until he was absolutely sure of the other man's unconsciousness before entering the cell this time; in the depths of Mayuri's most recent insanity, a jailer had perished simply from getting too close to the cell. Something akin to cannibalism had taken place, leaving a very interesting corpse, and Mayuri's feigned ignorance of the matter had given Kisuke's coworkers more than enough reason to retaliate. Hence the arrows.

This abomination of a soul was just an experiment, something Kisuke could test theories on without having to explain himself to Yamamoto. He was stronger and smarter than his jailer coworkers; he was a Captain with a Division created solely for him. For anyone to spy upon let alone question his motives in here was a punishable offense. The snoring thing before him was a pet project and that was literally why it was a secret. He wanted to make people into pets. And yes, it was a sexual perversion. Someday he wanted to have a menagerie of beautiful women, altered to perfection and programmed to desire nothing but his attentions. Even though it was a pipe dream, working on various alterations made him feel like he was inching the plan along to a possible reality. In the meantime, he had to play the nice guy around his comrades and hide his sinister side within a locked box. He leaned over and examined the throat modification; his work was flawless. A woman wouldn't be able to gag even if she wanted to once this was performed on her. He pondered what modification he'd try next but Mayuri was too close to death to carry out the thought. For now, sanitation and healing reiatsu were imperative. He lifted the body then carried it to the showers, annoyed that he couldn't remove the heavy, iron shackles from the poor fucker's wrists and ankles. The ball and chain he always had to drag behind him especially seemed like overkill… but its enchantment that culled reiatsu was important, to say the least. When he finally reached a shower stall and dumped Mayuri into it, he knew he'd strained a muscle or two from the exertion. His back protested sorely as he knelt before the unconscious figure and unceremoniously began to strip it bare, removing all the arrows in the process. There was so much blood and paint everywhere that he didn't even know what the fuck he was looking at once he was done. That's what water was for though; he turned on the spigot, giving zero shits what the temperature was, then left the stall and let the shower do its work.

After about fifteen minutes, he returned to the stall, hoping it had been enough time to cleanse away most of the filth. Once again, he had no idea what he was looking at. A young, innocently pretty man was curled up by the drain, his smooth skin a few shades darker than Kisuke's own as if he'd somehow been getting a suntan under all that paint. There was none of the ugliness Kisuke had been expecting, no malformity to hide. Why all the paint, then? Did he wear it to make himself look less vulnerable? Kisuke had always just assumed it had been the exact opposite - a psychopathic attempt at vanity. He turned off the water, which was almost hot enough to scald, and sat Mayuri up against one of the stall's walls to make the healing process easier. Within a few minutes, the arrow wounds were closed and death was no longer immanent. Kisuke sat back and further analyzed the body before him, realizing he was actually quite intrigued. Mayuri's face, while not classically handsome, was pleasing to the eye with its sharp yet refined features. His lips were thin but still managed to offer up a pout now that they weren't pulled back into that nasty grin. It was a face that would definitely garner the attention of both genders and probably had in some forgotten past. The body was equally alluring – while Mayuri was not brutishly strong by any means, his thin frame was lithely muscled. Kisuke knew the man exercised as much as his small cell would allow and it definitely showed. He didn't have the spindly limbs and saggy midsection that many other prisoners sported who'd simply given up on living, rather he had the look of a gymnast or even a dancer. Graceful was the best word for it.

Also interesting was his hair – Kisuke didn't know why he was surprised to see that even Mayuri's pubic hair was blue. That the man could've possibly acquired blue dye made even less sense than it being his natural color. Other than the patch of pubes, Mayuri was hairless save for a cute little treasure trail that barely made itself known from his navel downward. Cute? Why do I think it's cute?! Kisuke thought, so embarrassed he felt a wave of heat hit his face. He has a big cock too, his brain just had to add. And a nice ass.

Kisuke shook his head, fighting the urge to slap the fuck out of himself. He was so repulsed by his attraction to the same sex that he'd convinced himself it was just misplaced lust for women. Bisexuality was a word that tasted bad just thinking about it – he'd been taught growing up that gay men were flamboyant, driveling weaklings and the lesson had stuck like glue. He loved women, he really loved women, and the possibility that he could ever feel that way about a man was too abhorrent to bear. However, here that feeling was, pointing at him and laughing, saying I told you so! Suddenly his interest in Mayuri curdled into a deep, ugly loathing. This was never a part of the plan! Kisuke wanted to scream, to tear his own hair out, to make this experiment blink from existence and forget it had ever happened. Instead, he closed his eyes and tried to force some semblance of inner calm. This was most definitely a mistake… but it was a secret mistake. Kisuke's hand twitched at his side. No matter what he did, no one would ever find out. Maybe it was time to set this matter of bisexuality to rest, once and for all.

For some reason, his hands went for Mayuri's inner thighs first, hungrily groping the soft skin. They felt silky smooth and unmarred, almost like no one had ever touched them before. He then decided he wanted to bite them, hard. When he did, he almost expected Mayuri to cry out but the man was still completely unconscious, even when his teeth broke skin. Once satisfied with his ministrations, Kisuke sat up and surveyed the damage. Now Mayuri looked more suited for his role, like a branded piece of property. A bolt of lust shot down Kisuke's spine and his cock practically jumped to full attention – he wrestled it out of his pants and stroked it a few times, moaning a curse between clenched teeth. He'd coaxed a few women into anal sex before so he was no stranger to it; he knew it fucking hurt if you just went straight to it without stretching. But this was different. Even if Mayuri did wake up and began to scream bloody murder, no one would hear him. So Kisuke spit on his cock, spread the man's thighs, and plowed in his entire length with one heavy thrust. Mayuri was impossibly tight and warm around his girth, enough so that using any form of self-control flew right out the window and he found himself unable to pause even for a second, stabbing relentlessly with each quickening thrust. His hands had a death grip on the man's narrow hips, holding them so tightly he knew they would bruise.

"What's…" It took Kisuke a second to register that the word had come from Mayuri's lips. "What's happening?" He looked up to find Mayuri awake and dumb with shock, his gold eyes open so wide they looked like two big saucers. A flicker of horrified recognition paled the man's face when Kisuke grinned malignantly and pumped his hips again. Before Mayuri could even think of screaming, Kisuke clamped a hand over his mouth, slamming his head firmly against the wall behind it.

"I'm raping you, idiot," he snarled. "Isn't that obvious?"

Mayuri's entire body became rigid and his eyes somehow widened even more.

"You can struggle if you want but you're far too weak to put a scratch on me," Kisuke continued in a low voice. "You can also scream but I assure you, no one is going to hear you. Nothing you do is going to make a damn bit of difference – but if you annoy me too much, I'll fucking castrate you. Understand?" When he pulled his hand away, Mayuri looked like he was contemplating every possible outcome of his current predicament. Finally the man drew in a shaky, defeated breath, slammed his eyelids closed, and bit down fiercely on his own lip. Kisuke chuckled darkly and started where he'd left off, noticing with an odd sort of respect that no matter how hard he thrusted, Mayuri didn't utter a single sound – he just bit down deeper on his lip, which eventually began to bleed.

It wasn't until Kisuke was close to cumming that he noticed Mayuri's cock had become erect. The scientist's part of his brain reminded him that the prostate, if stimulated enough, could cause a man to orgasm whether or not he wanted to. This had been an awkward, occasional outcome of prostate exams since they were first invented and obviously, it was the only reason Mayuri was in his current state. The rest of the man's body was practically radiating horror and shame. Kisuke was overcome with sinister glee; he'd honestly forgotten about this little fact. Determined to see it through, he grabbed Mayuri's cock and started to roughly jerk it off in rhythm with his thrusts. The man's agonized expression deepened to despair in response and his hands flexed desperately in their cuffs.

"Why are you even ashamed?" taunted Kisuke. "You have no honor to defend, nothing at all." He quickened his pace until they were both right on the edge then leaned in and hungrily licked the crook of the man's neck. "Cum for me," he rasped. "Become my pet." They came simultaneously, Mayuri finally uttering a muffled moan as he spilled his seed into Kisuke's hand while the blonde bit down hard on the neck before him to stifle his own cries, rocking his hips until he was drained. It took a while before he could even move. When he pulled out and slowly stood up, he noticed that Mayuri had started to cry – quiet, gasping sobs that wracked his thin frame. It made Urahara feel an unwanted scrap of guilt.

"Kisuke," Mayuri whispered between sobs, "do me one favor – just one tiny fucking favor – and get me my paint."

X X X

Mayuri groaned and rubbed his throbbing temples. After shooing away Ukitake, he'd been sitting on the floor, not even bothering to stand up from where he'd just sucked cock. The only productive thing he'd done was clean his own cum off his hands with his tongue. But sitting here naked was still pretty stupid – it wouldn't take a genius to guess that he'd been doing something debaucherous beforehand. He was utterly exhausted though, both physically and mentally. Being raped by Kisuke that first time was quite possibly his worst memory. Without any knowledge remaining of his life before the Maggot's Nest, it was as though Kisuke had taken away his virginity. It was extremely painful to think about but in its exhaustion, his brain seemed to be leaking out bad things left and right. It also seemed to be making him act like an insane slut; he still couldn't believe Ukitake had actually said yes to his offer. Who in their right mind would accept a blowjob from a wounded, hysterical maniac? He supposed it was curiosity – and the fact that no other person could've possibly ever deepthroated that man's enormous cock. It wasn't often Mayuri had to unhinge his jaw.

"Alright, time to get out of here," he muttered aloud. Once he was in his own Division, he could treat himself properly and finally sort out his mind. He slowly rose to his feet, staggering a bit in the process. He was so weak, his head was spinning by the time he was standing up straight. His plan had been to clothe himself and walk out but now he realized that his only hope was to stab himself with Ashisogi Jizō and slime his way home. He'd only been half serious to Jūshirō about doing it earlier… he hadn't thought he was really doing that bad! When he spotted his Zanpakutō, his heart sank in his chest. It was all the way on the other side of his cot, resting against a nightstand. That meant he'd have to walk several steps without fainting. You've been far worse off, he reprimanded himself, embarrassed. You're a Captain, not a toddler!

He made it three whole steps before his vision tunneled and was halfway through a fourth when he collapsed, his body completely missing the cot and slamming gracelessly onto the floor.

*AUTHOR'S NOTE* Well, I posted the warning for a reason. This story's been banging around in my head for years, finally decided I have to get it out of my system. I hope my many, many breaks in perspective aren't too intolerable… not sure how else I'd go about it. Also I'm sorry for making Kisuke into such a horrible fucking person, I don't really even have a strong opinion about his canon character. I don't like his hat, idk.