Series Title: Always

Chapter Title: No Choice

Author: (travelingstorm)

Rating: Part 2/11 - M, NC17ish overall

Word Count (fic portion) Chapter 1: 2971

Warnings: This is going to be DARK DARK ANGSTY TORTURE AND MORE! Lots of not-so-nice details, including Bishop, turtle-torture, drugs, psychological problems and even more unspeakable acts that will be NOT be labeled for fear of giving the whole plot away. There WILL be a happy ending (eventually) but the road from here to there is going to be long and painful.

Additional Warning: This part focuses on two principal characters (and if you read part one, you know who they are) and containsadult situations While not entirely graphic, there are strong hints and descriptions of acts not to everyone's taste. You know where the back button is if you don't like it. You may feel there is some OOC'ness. I blame the drugs. I also will say that everything will be explained in future fics. The first 3 fics deal with the immediate event. The last EIGHT deal with the fall-out. We still have a long way to go but this will be the worst of it. If you can get through this, the rest of the fics will be tamer, even 'healing' in later parts.

Notes: This is an 11 part story, with each section falling under a different theme in LJ's fanfic100 community, character: Michaelangelo. This is chapter one, theme 33: Too Much.

ooo...000...ooo

Mikey knew he had been drugged, even if his memory was a bit hazy. He thought his eyes had been open, but everything was dark. Now while Mikey knew that darkness was, well, dark, he hadn't known that darkness could also be so heavy. His arms and legs felt pinned, held down by invisible weights. Even though he couldn't see anything except pitch blackness, his ears suddenly kicked in, and he could hear vague and fuzzy voices talking, as though from a great distance. His body swayed, floating, and he came to the conclusion that he was being moved.

"...an interesting side effect in the mice..."

"What did...do? I...aggressive behavior but to...performing self-mutilation?"

"...no target. They turned on themselves. The director mandated...doesn't want to lose...test subjects..."

"What about...he said...other effects?"

Laughter. "...was one...didn't count on. He...animal instincts."

"So this...same thing?"

"...doesn't know...said...S'why it's called a test."

More laughter. "...poor bastards..."

Mike strained to hear more but everything went fuzzy again and he fell back into a drugged doze.

---

The next time Mikey woke up, his head was pounding and dizzy, but the blackness had pulled back enough to let him blearily see his surroundings. He was facing the wall of what he assumed was the 'cell' he'd heard the mad doctor mention before he passed out. His arms and legs were no longer strapped down, but when he tried to move them, they flopped and twitched, about as responsive as an infant testing his limbs for the first time. With great effort, he managed to roll onto his back so he could at least turn his head from side to side and see what was going on.

His vision, while still blurry and fuzzy-edged, picked out a dark shape huddled against the far wall, tucked up in the corner between it and the iron bars. Mikey blinked furiously, trying to clear his sight, and he finally managed to pick out the dark shade of emerald green he knew belonged to Raphael. Mikey squinted. No sign of red. Raph wasn't wearing his bandanna. An odd thing for him to focus on, but at least it proved his eyes weren't permanently damaged – clarity was slowly coming back.

His tongue felt thick and swollen in his dry mouth. Swallowing a few times to try and clear his throat, he tried to speak and was rewarded with a harsh cough as his abused throat let him know exactly what it thought of that attempt. God, I'd seriously kill for a glass of water, he moaned inside his mind. Shaking his head, groaning at the wave of dizziness that swept over him, he tried again.

"...R-raph?"

Shaky, weak, hoarse – but triumphant! Mikey grinned as his whispered word penetrated the eerie stillness, and his brother heard him. Raphael's head snapped up, his eyes zeroing on Mikey, latching on like a cobra's fangs subduing its prey.

Mikey tried to swallow again. "...Bro? ...Y'okay?"

Raphael didn't answer, only watched, and Mikey squinted again, trying to make out more details. Was his brother hurt?

"You get to choose who gets the serum."

Bishop's voice suddenly spoke inside his head, and Mikey breathed in sharply as he suddenly remembered what had happened. Bishop. Bishop had made him...his eyes widened, and Mikey struggled to try and sit up, to go to his brother and see if he was hurt, sick, something. His muscles scorned him, refusing to follow his commands, and all Mikey managed to accomplish was to roll on his side, one arm flopping out in Raph's general direction. "...R-raph?" He had made a choice. He had chosen Raphael to be a test experiment because Mikey had been afraid of Leatherhead. Tears filled Mikey's eyes, and he tried again in vain to move. "Raph...I'm s-sorry..."

Raphael cocked his head to the side and Mikey held his breath. Was Raph angry at him? Was that why he wouldn't speak? Or did the serum do something else?

The larger turtle slowly uncoiled himself, fluidly, moving with near-feline grace. Mikey's eyes widened again when Raph unfolded himself to his true height and slowly stepped over in his direction.

"...Raphie?"

His brother moved closer, and Mikey looked up at the looming figure, biting back a sharp cry of dismay. Raph's eyes were completely blank, a solid glittering black that hid all traces of the deep hazel they normally were.

"Raph? It's me, Mikey." Mikey gulped again, sucking in air as fear began to snake its way through him. The idea of being scared of Raph would have been ludicrous at any other time, but this was something totally different. His brother was staring at him flatly, muscles all locked up and tense, without a single sign of recognition. Mikey wasn't normally afraid of his brother – but he had a healthy respect for what his brother could do when he was angry.

"This is a hormonal serum, designed to loosen a person's inhibitions, much like alcohol. But the added effect is that it increases one's natural aggression."

At least when Mike pulled a stunt in the lair, or cracked a joke, he could always rely on his own charm and wit to get Raph to forgive and forget. Barring that, there was always someone else – Leo, Donnie, Master Splinter – to restrain the other mutant until he came to his senses.

Now I'm trapped with a drugged Raphael. A drugged, angry Raphael. And I can't move or even think straight. Mikey froze as Raphael came to a halt in front of him.

"...Bro?"

A lightening quick kick struck him in the plastron, slamming him back against the wall. Mikey's head struck the concrete, and his eyes fluttered shut as stars exploded around him, pain making him cry out. Head ringing, feeling the warm slick tail of blood streaming down the back of his head, Mikey flopped around, trying to roll over, succeeding in landing on his stomach, and he lay there panting, trying to keep from throwing up at the sheer pain rocketing through his skull.

He heard Raphael move behind him and pause. In a haze of pain and a healthy dose of fear, Mikey squeezed his eyes shut, sparks flashing behind closed lids. "Raph...Raphie, please." He chanced a glance, turning his head as best he could, and was rewarded with the sight of his brother staring at him in...confusion? "Raph?"

The dim lighting, mild as it was, was still too much for his pounding head and aching eyes, and he shut them again – only to have them fly back open as a heavy weight pinned him to the ground. Mikey gasped and tried to move, his arms feeling about as strong as molded jello cubes. "What are you doing? Get offa me!"

A warning growl sounded above him and suddenly Raph's face was behind his head. Mikey froze. Was Raph...sniffing him?

Raphael did something extremely weird then. He nuzzled just behind the small indent that was Mikey's ear. Mikey shuddered at the alien sensation, trying to push up. "Dude, wake up!"

Raphael growled, and smacked him. Mikey gasped in pain and went still, spots of light dancing in his vision, his stomach heaving again. Raph's weight had settled along the length of his shell, as though he were using Mikey as a mattress, pressing him into the dirty cement floor. For a second, Mikey floated, semi-conscious, before fighting back against the darkness trying to creep in from the corner of his eyes.

His brother was still nuzzling him, he realized hazily. Raph shouldn't be doing that. His brother was still growling, a low growl, and one hand was clutching Mikey's shoulder possessively, as though trying to prevent the other turtle from going anywhere. Not that I can, Mikey thought, feeling almost faint with pain.

Then Raph lifted him up a bit, and Mikey instinctively thrust his hands and knees down, bracing himself to keep from a sudden fall should Raph decide to let go. But he didn't. The hand on Mikey' shoulder tightened, and his other hand wrapped around Mikey's waist, trailing lightly along his plastron. Mikey, sick and still terrified, still managed to blush. Their plastrons were surprisingly sensitive to light touches, which sometimes led to embarrassing moments in the infirmary when they needed patching up. This was getting far too...well, intimate.

"Raph, stop! It's me, Mikey! Your brother!" Raph's hand trailed lower, blunt fingers marking a zigzagging path, squared off nails raking gently. Mikey gasped through the pain in his head. "Your male brother! Remember?"

Raphael growled again. He cried out, all thought leaving him as Raphael suddenly bit down on Mikey's neck, sharp teeth piercing the skin and sucking hard. The serum made Raph a vampire, Mikey thought woozily, trying to ignore the oddly pleasurable sensation of Raph sucking on his neck. He concentrated as best he could on raising his arm, a weak attempt to bat Raph away, but was barely able to lift it. This was wrong on so many levels, and if he could just think for a second, he'd be able to figure out a way to stop all this. Raph pulled away, licking the mark as he did, fingers rubbing Mikey's plastron, and Mikey closed his eyes, trying not to feel.

"R-raph..." he choked out. "T-this isn't...y-you. It's the drugs talking, man. Snap out out of it!"

Another warning growl, louder this time, and suddenly Mikey felt something hard against his leg. His eyes snapped open as he realized just what it was, and he thrashed violently, trying to squirm away. "No!"

Raphael's fist slammed down on his already aching skull and Mikey blacked out for a minute, all thoughts fading away. When he came back to himself in a haze of foggy gray, Raph was still nuzzling him, licking his neck, sending little bolts of tingles down his spine. The hard length he knew to be Raph's...little Raph, was still pressed against him.

Mikey had watched enough TV in his life to know what sex was. The actual act was something he'd never experienced before, and had never thought he ever would. The realization at the time had been a bit of a downer, but it hadn't been a huge priority for him at the time. But even if he had been ready for the experience, he didn't want his first time to be like this. He hadn't even known it was possible.

Oh, they had the... parts ,for sex. Mikey dizzily recalled a flash of memory, of Donnie and Splinter teaming up to give them a talk about puberty and how they were built, both similar and different from humans. Mikey vaguely recalled being grateful that they didn't have the 'dangly bits' that human males had; their structure had everything tucked away nice and neat. Donatello had explained that when they were aroused, everything would...happen as needed. He had been too embarrassed to say it out loud, especially in front of Master Splinter, but amid the giggles and red faces, they all knew exactly what happened. Puberty came to everyone, even mutant turtles, and it was around age twelve or so that everyone had pretty much demanded having their own private rooms. Complete with doors and locks salvaged from the junk yard.

But this...in his wildest - and admittedly, kinkiest - dreams, Mikey had never envisioned anything like this. He tried again to reach his brother through the drugs. "Raph! Please! Listen to me! It's me, Mikey! Your brother!"

Raph snorted, and then pushed. Mikey's vision was eclipsed by white hot pain rushing up his spinal cord and he screamed in shock, fingers digging into crumbling concrete. Raphael grunted, pulled back and then moved again, and Mike groaned in pain, feeling lightheaded.

This was wrong, this was bad, this hurt. Mikey's thoughts, jumbled and panicked, raced around his brain in circles like gerbils on a motorized wheel, unable to slow down, and he bit back the tide of anger he could feel welling up at Raphael, trying to keep it down. This was not Raph's fault. His brother was out of his mind, he was under the influence of a souped-up cocktail courtesy of the most evil man on the planet, and he was not going to blame his brother! If only he could move, fight back, but his muscles were limp, loose, like cooked strands of spaghetti.

Silent tears leaked down Mikey's face. It was his fault. He had told Bishop to choose Raphael. It was all his fault, his choice. It was...

...not so painful anymore. Mikey's eyes shot snapped open again as he came out of his head to realize his own mouth was hanging open, wide-mouthed gasps escaping him. Something had been different. Something had--

Oohhhhh, shit

Raph moved again and hit something that sent a bolt of pleasure shooting through his belly, making his toes curl in an automatic reflex. Mikey gasped again and Raphael growled in his ear.

No. NO. Mikey fought against the feeling with everything he had, which ultimately, wasn't very much. Raph snarled and hit him again, trying to keep him still. Dizzy and disoriented, his own body welcomed the pleasurable feeling when it came back, trying to override the pain in his head. Gating mechanism, Mikey thought disjointedly, remembering another Donnie lecture. When something hurts, the mind fixes on it and blocks out everything else. Only in this case, he didn't want to fixate on what his brother was doing to him.

Why does this feel...good? It hurt so badly just a few minutes ago...It's wrong, it shouldn't be good, this is wrong...

Raphael pulled back again and Mikey tried to move. Still braced on all fours, he sluggishly tried to buck his brother off of him – and instantly realized what an incredibly stupid move that was. His brother, acting on instinct, had thrust forward as Mikey pushed back. The resulting...collision, made Mikey cry out again in confused and uncontrolled ecstasy, unable to control the spine-tingling sensations exploding inside him.

Raph's grip on his shoulder loosened a bit, and Mikey realized faintly that he wasn't smacking him anymore. The movements, the touches, they were almost gentle. A snippet of the doctor's conversation raced through his mind.

"...performing self-mutilation?"

"...no target. They turned on themselves."

Mikey bit his lip, trying to ignore the reality of his situation to focus on what he had heard. The serum made them – ohh – turn on themselves. Something had gone – oh GOD, no-AHH – wrong with the animals. Instincts? Mutilation? Shiiiit...

Mikey wasn't as smart as Donatello, but he was by no means stupid. If only his head would clear for just a minute... but between the aching pain behind his eyes, and the mind-numbing pleasure of what was happening, he couldn't think straight. Was what they said true? If Raph didn't...get it out of his system, would he hurt himself? Maybe kill himself in an attempt to burn the drug out of his system?

If that was the case, Mikey didn't have a choice. He didn't want what was happening – but he wanted a dead brother even less. He had made this choice – and in a horrible, betraying way, he was glad he did. As degrading and humiliating as this was, he couldn't even imagine what would have happened to him had Leatherhead been the one injected with the serum. He didn't want to imagine. The mutated crocodile had three times the size on Raph.

Guilt flooded through him, tears of anguish leaking down a face that couldn't fully contain its pleasure. It was wrong for him to take any joy in what was happening. He knew that. He knew that. But he couldn't help it. If he was going to keep his brother from harming himself, he couldn't fight back. As much as he wanted to, he had to try. And he firmly tried to ignore the tiny spark within him that wanted to feel more of this alien pleasure, a pleasure he never thought he'd feel.

Breathing deep, he let go, trying to relax himself as much as possible, letting Raphael do as he wanted. The larger turtle grunted, snuffled, shifted him from time to time, but it was as though he could read Mikey's intentions; that he knew Mikey wasn't going to fight back anymore, or try to get away, and they both let instinct take over. For a split second, Mikey thought maybe it was cheating – letting his mind shut down and his senses just feel, accept what was happening in an attempt to get it over with sooner, but then Raphael was moving with a greater sense of urgency, and Mikey stopped thinking altogether.

Raphael let out a guttural roar as he reached his own completion, and Mikey's vision whited out again as his own pleasure overtook him by surprise. The blackness that had been hovering at the edges of his sight started swimming inward, and he knew he wasn't going to be able to remain conscious much longer. It was too much – too much pleasure mixed with pain, mixed with shock and exhaustion and a truckload of overwhelming guilt threatening to drown him inside. Raph slumped over him, panting heavily, and Mikey forced himself to stay awake long enough to whisper to him, "It wasn't your fault, Raph."

It wasn't. It was his. His choice, both when Bishop first gave him one, and his choice now to let it happen, to quit fighting against his brother. Mikey choked back a sob, even as he let the darkness swarm over him completely, drifting off in a sea of gray and black, murmuring over and over again, "...wasn't y'r fault...m's'rry..."

---

End part 2 of 11

Notes: I know I'm going to take some harsh criticism for this. shrugs Have at me. Just remember though, I didn't hold you at gunpoint to read it. I tried to keep it psychologically detailed, yet physically inexplicit, and I think I succeeded. Let me know what you think.

Minor detail – No, I am not saying, or even hinting, that victims of rape feel pleasure during the act (though I did know of one girl who did, and felt so guilty afterwards it tore her up inside, but that's neither here nor there), but in this case, Mikey's muscles are completely relaxed because of the drugs, which have also left him a bit hyper-sensitive. In another situation, he would have been completely tense which would have made for more pain with less, to zero, chances of even the tiniest bit of pleasure.

Lastly: I am having a really shy week. I blame it for all of this. :) Feedback is always appreciated.