CELLS D2 AND D3

Genius. We learn to get along without Ginger, and suddenly, she returns. My oh my, whatever would we do?

Ginger woke up and saw all of us surrounding her, and she started screaming at the top of her lungs. We backed off, startled by her energetic thrashing and clawing, but she kept right on yelling.

Her eyes were my favorite part. Immediately, right as they snapped open, she knew where she was, and why we were dangerous. Such horror in her eyes. Immediately. She knew.

How many times do I have to eat before I stop being hungry? How many times do I have to fuck before I don't want to anymore? How many times do I have to sell my soul before I stop caring? How much can we take before we snap?

I keep others at a distance in order to delay the inevitable. Inconsistency is the issue. Mood swings. I'm happy, some shmuck pisses me off, I get angry, and I stay angry for a long time. It's difficult to let things go.

She backpedaled into the corner and we watched her sob, weak tears streaming down her cheeks. She called for Donald, asked for his protection, her outstretched arms groping wildly for him as though she were blind.

Donald, he knew what was at stake. There was even a moment of hesitation, where he was still standing with the rest of us. You could read his last rites in that silence.

I've only seen one other person move that fast.

Visions of things to come. Donald's arms around her shoulders. Ginger burying her head into his chest. Inhaling one another's sweat. Listening to them fuck every night. The cell eventually smelling like their sex. Them flaunting it in front of us like a sideshow act.

And we would have to take it. No matter how free we think we are, it all comes down to mathematics. Equations, rules, theorems, possibilities. Questions. Whether he was genuinely trying to protect her, or if it was all about pussy.

He held onto her and she whispered into his ear, her lips rapidly brushing his cheek. I caught "Snively" and "they'll do it to us" and "smell" and "not our friends." He nodded, staring at us, his eyes growing darker the longer he listened. His hard-on pointed at her.

Over. Gone.

His days reduced to single digit numbers.

This was the closest I had ever felt to a large group. It takes mob mentality to bring us together, make us close.

Options. What substitutes for Ginger were available, ways to stave off the feeling of being rejected. Our food servings was getting mushy. Looking pretty vaginal to me. Hell, it wouldn't be edible for much longer… Why not?

But I wasn't considering the obvious answer. What better way to kill the urge to fuck than by actually fucking. It's not as though Donald and Ginger were the only ones in the cell. I had plenty of choices from a fine stock of men, but I didn't consider it. I never considered it. If I had, I would have been disgusted by it, sure, repelled by how much I hate them, yes, but I would have caved in eventually.

No. What I was after, plain homegrown vagina, eggs and all.

That's what brought me out of it. It wasn't so much about sex as it was about procreation, some deep level of me had been rudely awakened and multiplied to dangerous heights. The urge would never, ever go away.

I remember stepping away from them as they closed in on Donald and Ginger. It got harder and harder to move each foot back, left, right, left right. This strange smell was invading me, infecting my nostrils, going right to my head. Hostile takeover. Fantasies, her naked, writhing, wet, throbbing body, me pounding into her and destroying her, forcing her to keep quiet, laughing while she's crying and she doesn't stop and I cum all over her insides and she's mine and then I don't want her anymore and the others, the others they pull me off and have a go and and and it doesn't end.

I didn't stop until I hit the back wall in the bathroom. I slid down to the floor, trying to shut down.

Across from me, the show began. Donald tried to protect her, to the very end, drunk from a right cross from Marsh. Charlie dragged Donald away from Ginger and forced him onto his stomach, pressing both of his knees into the small of Donald's back and pinning his wrists, gripping Donald by the scruff of his neck and lifting his head, forcing him to watch. Ginger didn't put up much of a fight. Kern pushed her up against the glass and opened her up. He held her with one hand under her arm and the other between her legs. He began moving his hips back and forth, moving one of her legs over his shoulder. Already, the guys were telling him to hurry up. Kern thrust at least three more times and shuddered. He stepped back and fell to his ass, looking relieved as she fell to the floor away from him. The others looked at Kern like they couldn't believe what had just happened, unsure if they could do the same. Then they all moved towards her, but Frank got there first. He patted the top of her head, gently, staring down at her. His fingers grazed her cheek when he suddenly gripped her by her hair. Kern was in my way but I saw enough of Frank's dick to know that Ginger's mouth was on the other side of it, his thick arms forcing her head further and further, deeper and deeper, his hands gripped tight on her scalp. Charlie watched intently, every once in awhile distracted by Donald's weak struggling, but he held on tight. Frank climaxed into her throat and pushed his dick further in, her vomit mixing with his cum but I could hear her choke, gulp and swallow. He bent his shoulders and loosened his grip. She fell out of sight again, behind Kern, heaving and gagging. Frank yelled at her to keep it down and brought his foot at the bridge of her nose. A crack and she was out, cold. She slipped across the floor and I could see her better, the entrance of the bathroom obscuring her head. Frank walked out of sight and Marsh decided that he was next, practically bouncing to her limp body. He was slower about it, taking his time, kissing her neck, her chest, her arms, her hands. He stayed close to her, no space between their stomachs. It took him longer to finish. She was waking up when Oscar took his turn. He seemed more reluctant about it, like he didn't know what to do, and Ginger was squirming around, coughing and trying to close her legs as Marsh forced Oscar between them. Marsh was telling whispering all this shit to him, and I can imagine it: lick her cunt, her hairy squirrel cunt, get a taste of royalty, how will it taste, before and after, how tight is she, how wet is she. And poor Oscar was having trouble getting it up. I could see his tired, apologetic face, that look of giving up when you know you've tried your hardest and can't try any harder, that sigh that comes from so deep that it burns coming out of your mouth and stings your eyes and you can't see five seconds in front of you; all that exists is the humiliation of failing at something that so many others have succeeded at. There was a loud slam as Charlie head-butt Donald and left him unconscious. It was his turn. He was out of my line of sight for the moment as Oscar squirmed away from Ginger's heaving body. Charlie came back into view with the bouncy ball gripped tight in his hand, grinning madly. He flipped Ginger onto her stomach and shoved the ball into her mouth from behind. He put his hands on her hips and slammed into her, hard from the get-go. She clawed and scratched at the floor, spit trailing out of her mouth, her spine arched, trying to roll with him and let him in, trying to ignore it or have fun and she was moaning and crying out with every thrust and I didn't know if I was enjoying it but fuck it, I was. Of course I was. But I was clinging to the disgust at the idea of taking her after the rest of them, the feeling of being excluded, the idea that they'd be watching. Charlie finished and backed off. Oscar sulked nearby, unsure if he wanted to give it another go. A pool of blood expanded around Donald's head. Frank, Kern, and Marsh I couldn't see. Ginger, Ginger, Ginger, sitting there, waiting for me, dripping with cum from four other guys.

I crawled forward, slipping onto my chest, my dick pressing against my lower stomach. Stop this, for fuck's sake. Anything to stop this. Sleep. I need sleep.

I let gravity pull my head into the floor. The first hit meant nothing, but I started using my muscles, and with every subsequent hit the concentration on the sex broke and flies zoomed around inside of my skull trying find a good foothold and get back on track but I broke it with every Fall God I needed sleep Fall those repeated images of her Fall images of me fucking her Fall and the guys watching Fall losing the war with them Fall and Robotnik Fall-

It's dark for ages.

I wake up with clear lungs and a killer headache. I manage to lift my head, skin and hair peeling off blood like the floor is made of flypaper. All the memories come back. Her eyes, her beautiful eyes…

I can see them now, staring at me from across the cell, but… there's a rectangular space behind her, opening to a blinding white light. The outside.

Her eyes. Her body curves back around, her flank pointing right at me. A grimace on her face that resembles a smile.

Outside, or inside.

Which door do I take?

It hurts to move anything, but I managed to stand up.

Smoke… I can smell smoke…

There's no one else in the cell. It's quiet. We're alone. Together.

Left here.

So I could still have my turn.

Nice move.

Is it consensual if she can't object?

I make it to her and kneel down close, my lips touching her clammy forehead as the smile fades away from her and the door closes at the exact moment her eyes do. I make my choice.

Checkmate.