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“Denji?” He looked up from the celebrity magazine he had been skimming. Makima was a beacon. She held her arm out with her palm down. Before she could even speak another word, Denji had launched himself towards her, lowering himself so that her hand met the top of his shaggy blonde head.
“Woof!”
“Good boy,” she said softly, petting him the way one would a dog, smoothing the stray hairs on his head and making him look a little more presentable. He loved it. He cherished every moment. Like a horny-brained idiot, he had to focus extra hard on the next words she said. “I want to ask you a favor. You remember what I promised you, right?”
“Anything!” he blurted. “I'll do anything you want, Miss Makima.”
“I know you will.” She smiled like it was meant just for him. In those private moments between them, Denji felt more seen than he ever had in his entire life. He felt safe. Makima gave him a purpose, and he’d do anything to make her smile like that forever.
Beside her feet, the ground shimmered like it was made of water. Ripples washed over the office floor, and a small, blue shark fin appeared. Denji knew the fiend as Beam. The one he had reluctantly agreed to partner with. He wrinkled his nose at the perceived annoyance, like a territorial puppy.
“We have a contract with a devil that requires a small offering,” Makima brushed a soft strand of hair behind her ear. “You see, this Devil will be of great assistance to us, if and only if, we grant it one thing.”
Denji cocked his head to the side as he listened raptly. What could it be that they needed it from him specifically?
“The devil wants your virginity, Denji.”
“What?!” He turned bright red, arms up to cover his chest, as if the devil would appear in the room and tear his clothes off then and there. “But—” He was supposed to lose his virginity to Makima. That was his dream. He thought she understood that, how special it was that he wanted her to be his girlfriend.
“Beam has already agreed to help us.”
A look of horror struck Denji’s face as the shark fiend appeared, splashing up from the floor, waving his arms as if to say tada! Like a rabbit pulled from a hat, he was more than happy to play the magician's assistant.
Denji, on the other hand, was wildly offended. “I'm not gay,” he snapped, kicking the overexcited shark fiend away with his feet.
You don’t have to be. The words rang in his ears as he remembered the first time he had spoken those words. Get down. Open your mouth. Don't fucking think of biting. It didn't stop them. It’s never stopped anyone.
Makima said no such words, but he could feel the prickle of her expectations. “If you do this, Denji,” she said before, “I’ll grant you one wish.”
He shook. “Miss, can't I do it with a chick?”
It would be easy with a pretty girl, but she offered him a fiend. And a guy one at that! If it had to be a guy, why not the girly one with red hair? Or Power? Anyone but Beam!
Makima let out a small sigh. “This was our agreement.”
Denji hesitated. He would have done anything for Makima, even cut off his own tongue, but this made his body lock up like a machine without oil. He felt stuck. His chest was tight when he tried to exhale.
Makima simply smiled at his struggle to breathe. It made him feel hotter. “Oh, and Denji, there is one more thing…”
His mind grew fuzzy as her voice trailed off like a lullaby.
It was a large Western-style mansion. One with marble pillars and a bright, shiny chandelier. Denji, along with the rest of Public Safety Division 4, stood in a big room with mosaic floors that made every step down the corridor make a click-clack noise. The mansion belonged to an old man with grey hair and a smug look on his face. He hardly spoke, merely leered. He gave off an air and a smell that was inhuman. The pornography Devil, or something like that. Denji wasn't told, but he could guess.
If anything, he thought of saying, Excuse me, Sir Pornography, I'm your #1 fan. But Aki silenced him as soon as he opened his mouth, shooting an icy glare over his shoulder, his lips in a tight, silent line.
“So we’re supposed to have sex?” Denji asked loudly. He couldn't cover his nervousness entirely. He was jittery. Couldn't keep still on the drive over. Despite the contract, he couldn't believe he was going to have sex (sex that didn't really count, since it was with a guy).
“Yes.”
“How?”
Aki finally turned around. “What do you mean?”
“H-how are two guys supposed to, you know…” He knew his dick was supposed to go somewhere, but Beam didn't have a vagina. At least he didn't think so.
“You’ll figure it out.”
“What if I d—”
“Lord Chainsaw!!” Beam sprang forth and wrapped his arms around Denji’s, hugging his shoulders from behind. His body felt cold and dead. He wasn't wet, but felt reminiscent of something mildly slimy, like raw squid, with his unnaturally hairless skin.
“Beam knows what to do,” Aki deadpanned.
“Huh?! This guy?!” Denji refused to believe that the shark fiend was getting laid all the time.
He couldn’t stop thinking about it, staring, and thinking some more, until they reached a door at the end of the hallway, and Aki said, “I'm leaving.” What kind of girl wanted to fuck a shark?
“You aren't staying?” Makima and the others had already gone to the room where the devil wanted them to watch. They were a buncha perverts, but Denji couldn't really blame them.
“My job was only to escort you in case you changed your mind.”
“Oh.” Denji swallowed. “Well, I'm not, cause Miss Makima gave me this job, and I'll never let her down!”
Beam cheered as Denji threw the door open, determined to get it all over with. Inside was a room with a dingy red carpet and a big, circular bed. It was nothing out of the ordinary, except for the camcorder on a tripod, positioned directly at the foot of the bed. Paintings of naked women and men draped in fabric adorned the walls. They looked old, like stuff you’d see in a museum.
He swallowed, and a tinny voice spoke over a PA system overhead, “We’ll be watching you, Denji.”
It was Makima. Her voice gave him renewed vigor. He yanked his tie as he loosened it, and jutted his chin. In the past, he'd do stuff like this just for food in his belly, but this was for Makima. He was going to be a hero!
“Beam. Get on the bed,” he said, as dominantly as he could manage.
“Yes, sir!” The shark fiend flopped onto the mattress. He was clad in nothing but a cutoff pair of blue jeans, as usual, and his body wasn't unpleasant to look at, but he certainly was no girl. The lack of boobs threw Denji off his mojo.
Slowly, he began to crawl onto the bed. “I really wish I could do this with a chick, but it's for Makima, so stay quiet. Or make your voice sound like a girl or something…”
He closed his eyes, imagining Makima and her delicate hands and soft skin. He puckered his lips, leaned forward, and then—
“No, Denji.”
He looked up at the speaker, perplexed.
“You’re the one who’s supposed to be on the bottom, understand?”
“Y-you mean—”
“Yes. Go on, I know you’ll be perfect for this job.”
“Damn it!” he cursed. His hands were doing that shaky thing again, but there was no backing out now. He would do what Makima told him.
The camcorder blinked a red light, indicating it was recording them. He stared straight into its creepy, black lens and felt oddly like he knew who was behind it: a gross old man who wore smudged glasses and smelled like stale tobacco and leather.
“Master,” Beam said as he suddenly sat up straight. “We must switch places.”
Denji’s throat felt dry as he stood in front of the camera.
A new voice spoke, “Take your clothes off, we can't see anything.”
Denji had only just loosened his tie, but they wanted him to go faster. There wasn't enough time to think, one button after the other, he slipped off his crisp white shirt and then, in what could have been the blink of an eye or an entire hour, he got undressed. He stood naked in front of the camera, and whoever else was watching, with his hand over his dick because Makima was there and he didn't want her to see it like this.
If Makima was watching, did that mean she liked it? Did that mean she liked him?
His heart thudded against his ribcage, but unfortunately, none of his blood was going to his dick. It was still small and shriveled. He was never going to get hard at this rate.
The humiliation made him feel warm and tingly, but in a weird way. He wanted to ask Makima for reassurance. As if reading his mind, she called out to him, “Good boy, Denji.”
Yeah, good boy, he thought.
The goodest fucking boy in the whole world.
He looked to Beam, who saluted and dropped his jorts in one fell swoop. They slid off his legs to reveal:
He wasn't wearing any underwear, and
He had two. Two things between his legs, one next to the other. And they were both getting hard already.
“Lord Chainsaaaw,” he cooed.
Denji felt light-headed. He let Beam pick him up with his arms wrapped around his waist. He lifted him like he weighed nothing and walked him back to the bed. “Hey, wait—”
He was already being set down, surprisingly gently. His ass hit the silky sheets first, and then his back as Beam positioned himself on top of him. He was big. Bigger than Denji, eclipsing the light as he hovered.
“Why— why do you have two?” Denji asked quietly.
“Beam is the shark fiend. All male sharks are doubly endowed,” someone on the PA said. Despite the low volume of his voice, they had heard what he asked. They could hear everything.
Denji looked for the speaker in the ceiling and the CCTV cameras that were also placed in the corners of the room. They had every angle. He couldn't hide from them. But where were the microphones?
“Lord Chainsaw,” Beam said again, dragging him back to reality. He looked to the side, at a small bottle of lubricant on the nightstand, and Denji caught his drift.
“I’ll just suck you off or something—”
Beam shoved his legs apart and held them spread. “Master,” he whined.
Both his dicks were fully hard now, red at the top and leaning. He slid them against Denji’s inner thigh and made his skin prickle with goosebumps. They felt warm, almost ticklish against his sensitive skin. Denji forced himself to lie flat, not to buck him off or yank the pull cord in his chest. Then one of Beam’s cocks brushed his own, and he felt the familiar spike of pleasure make its way through his guts. Beam slid against him until he started to get hard. Why was it making him hard? His cock was chubbing up like it did when he was squished next to a pretty girl on the train.
It must have been Makima. He closed his eyes and thought of her, so it was kind of like jerking off, just dry and with no hands. He thought of Makima touching him instead, how her boobs were soft like marshmallows. Then Beam changed the angle of his hips, and his cock jabbed Denji straight in the ass. He yelped, “The hell are you doing?!”
“Sorry, Lord Chainsaw, sir!”
It wasn't sexy. It was terrible—not at all how he wanted to lose his virginity. Besides, he'd done all the touching and rubbing stuff before, and if that counted as having sex, then he wasn't a virgin at all.
“Just hurry up and make me finish,” he said, annoyed by Beam’s apology.
The shark fiend wilted a little. “But…Lord Chainsaw…”
Denji waited. He looked down at his own cock, hard against his stomach, small in comparison to Beam’s. He had seen it so many times, hell, it was best friends with his right hand, but now it felt like someone else’s. Now it was a nuisance, and acting annoyingly hard to please.
He reached for the lube and squirted a big pile in his palm. “D’you even know how to jerk off?” he asked the fiend. “You do me and I'll do you.”
In his mind, the math made sense. If they both jizzed, then that was two people coming, and that meant they had sex. It would count as an offering and seal the deal for the contract, and Makima could use the Devil’s power however he wanted to.
Beam nodded.
What Denji didn't understand was why he had to be on the bottom. He took hold of Beam, wrapping his fingers around one cock and finding that he couldn't close his fingers around both. “Shit,” he cursed. “Why do you gotta be so damn big?”
Beam whimpered like it must have felt really good, and damn right it should have. Denji was a jerking-off expert.
It was almost… sweet. Okay, scratch that, he hated that thought. But it wasn't bad, soon as Beam took hold of him too with a freshly lubricated hand. not as good as when Denji touched himself, but it was something, feeling Beam swell and pulse, feeling his hips twitch a little, and watching his mouth fall open to pant.
“I'm pretty good, huh?” Denji asked quietly. Beam was melting. He buried his face against Denji's neck. “I'm gettin’ close too,” Denji told him.
But then something happened. A sudden static, high-pitched screech played over the intercom. A deep, haunting voice said, “This won't do.”
“What? What do you mean we’re—hah, fuck—” He cut off with another moan, about to cum.
Suddenly, the room went pitch black, and he no longer felt Beam against him. He was floating in an abyss, alone with nothing but that blinking red light.
“M-Makima?!” he called out. “Beam?! Senpai!”
He clamped a hand over his mouth. They were still watching, no matter how cold and alone he felt. He heard nothing but the faint rushing of wind.
An invisible hand shot out and grabbed him, wrenching his wrist away as he struggled for the pull cord on his chest.
“Stop!” he shouted. “No, fuck you! Stop—Get off me!!”
Three more hands gripped his body, then four, then there were too many to count. They were dragging him, pinning every limb. No matter how hard he struggled, he couldn't move, and when a large hand shoved over his mouth, he couldn't scream. Tears clung to his eyelashes. They were holding his legs apart, prying his jaw open, spreading his cheeks—
“I'll do it!” he shouted. Fingers jabbed down his throat as soon as he had it open. His words were muffled and choked. He tried to bite off the ghostly finger, but they deprived him of oxygen. He began to lose consciousness, and they withdrew. “I'll do it with Beam,” he gasped. “As many times as you want me to, just let me go, you fuckers!”
Silence. Stillness, and then, “You’re not as dumb as you look, boy. You know what we want from you.”
The lights came on, and Beam was there, puzzled. They were right where they'd left off. Beam was still achingly hard.
Denji shoved the bottle of lube against his chest. He was still shaking too hard to do it himself. “Use this. A lot of it,” he said, but Beam didn't understand. “With your fingers. I-in my ass. Hurry up.”
Luckily, there was no pushback. Beam jabbed two of his slick fingers at Denji’s entrance and made him hiss. They wanted it like this. They wanted him to suffer. He tasted stale alcohol on his tongue. Felt stubble against his chin. Smelled leather.
It didn't help him to relax, but Beam got his fingers in anyway. They pierced him like weapons, and he was too tight for them to even wiggle.
“Gimme a second,” Denji whispered. He knew they would still hear.
Suddenly, a digital clock appeared on the wall. Denji saw it glowing red over Beam’s shoulder: 15:00.
It was counting down.
14:58.
14:49.
“Shit,” he cursed. “Okay. Okay, just— fuck! Just do it!”
He was grappling more with himself than anything else. The truth was, it scared him. But not the pain, what it would make him remember.
Denji knew pain, and he knew suffering. He had endured so much already; all he wanted was a warm futon and a soft lap to lay his head in.
He wanted Makima. And to get her, he needed to have sex with Beam.
Denji crawled onto his hands and knees. He gave them the show they wanted, bending forward until the camera had a clear angle of his pathetic, dangling cock and his pink, virgin asshole.
It hurt worse than getting stabbed when Beam pushed into him. He was ill-prepared and tense, and he'd never had anything so big up his ass in his life. Just the head was enough to make him bite back a sob. He gritted his teeth and let his mind take him elsewhere. Anywhere but the sharp claws holding his ass cheeks apart.
Thrust. On a date with a cute girl with pretty long hair. Thrust. Walking her home, waiting for her to get back inside safely. Thrust. He thought of buying her flowers. Thrust. Making her smile. Thrust. He just wanted to be good enough. Thrust. He wanted Makima to choose him.
“M-Makima!” he cried. But there was no answer. Behind him, Beam kept fucking him steadily, his other cock sliding against Denji’s balls, neglected but awake. He struck a spot inside Denji that made him cry out in pleasure-pain, writhing like a half-squashed bug under a wad of newspaper.
“Lord Chainsaw?”
“Don't stop! Don't you dare stop,” Denji croaked. His body was slowly being shoved up on the bed, so that his head nearly hit the headboard with each powerful thrust inside. It felt like he was being split open. Like Beam’s dick was in his chest.
The warmth that trickled down the inside of his thigh wasn't lube; it was blood.
“It's alright, Denji. Just breathe.”
She was still watching. Still listening. But he was so full, and Beam hadn't even pushed his other cock in. Denji shoved his face against the mattress to muffle his scream. He could feel it. Could feel Beam frantically trying and failing to fit them both in.
The pace he set was relentless. He wasn't fucking Denji like a human; he was breeding him like an animal. Grunting as Denji sobbed, “I can’t! I can’t but if I don’t—Miss Makima won’t—”
He couldn't see the clock anymore, but he was in too much pain to get hard again. Would it count if he didn't finish? If Beam didn't?
At least the blood had begun to make the shark fiend slide a little more easily. The room filled with a grotesque slapping sound and Denji’s muffled cries. The bed rocked hard enough that it rattled one of the paintings on the wall.
Just when Beam found his rhythm, he pulled out and turned Denji over. Denji's eyes were filled with tears, and his face was covered in snot. He winced at the light even though it was low. He tried to cover his face, but Beam stopped him, nosing at him so they were face to face. Like Pochita, when he used to wake Denji up with his little pink tongue.
“Lord Chainsaw is so pretty.” Beam had a flush on his face that indicated embarrassing feelings. Denji shoved at him, ready to protest, but Beam was insistent. “And handsome. I like him so much.”
“Shut up! I'm not gay!”
Then Beam kissed him on the mouth.
He kissed him and slid back inside. Denji’s shock masked some of the pain. His moan was hungrily swallowed down. His surprise made him easier to take advantage of.
It felt so strange. Kind of like he was taking a shit, the less it started to hurt, but there was a tingly feeling inside him too. One that radiated throughout his entire body.
The kissing was working. He liked that more than anything else, the sloppy, uncoordinated slide of Beam's lips against his. The cat-like, sandpapery feeling of his tongue. Beam sped his hips up just a little, and Denji moaned at the dual stimulation.
He swore he could hear Beam whispering something reverential against his lips, his neck, the sensitive shell of his ear. Denji, Denji, Denji, like a chant.
Denji gave up resisting. He wrapped his arms around the only person who truly had his back, hugging Beam close as his cock pushed further and deeper into his body. “Fuck— ahh, hh— B-Beam— ohh fuck!”
His skinny chest was heaving as he continuously fought the urge not to pull away, to climb out from under Beam and lop his head off with a chainsaw blade. He wasn't a girl, and he hated feeling like one, with his legs spread and his back arched. Beam fucked him until his toes curled and the dissociation set in.
Then they couldn't wait any longer. Denji was sweaty, filthy, covered in Beam’s fucking drool and his own blood. There wasn't much time left. He pushed the damp hair off his forehead and took a breath.
“Do I have to take both?”
The voice answered instantly. “Yes.”
His voice was flat. “Alright, sharky. I'll try not to cry too much.”
It was all the permission the Shark fiend needed. Denji held his legs up to his chest while Beam took hold of both his cocks and held them together. They wouldn't fit. Blatantly, they would not. No shit, Denji knew it would hurt. It would destroy his ass; he’d need to drink so much blood to recover. His guts would be spilling out for days without it.
Beam grunted with the effort it took to pop in. Denji screamed, unrestricted and unmuffled this time. He screamed the entire time Beam fucked him with both cocks, clawing at the bedsheet until it ripped, his nails making Beam bleed.
He bit him, too.
“Drink from me,” Beam said, breathless. “Take my blood, sir.”
The blood helped somewhat, to drink while his ass was stuffed so full it made his bladder lose its contents. He pissed himself with a thin dribble of yellow urine all down his skinny legs. The blood made him feel drunk enough not to care. He only thought that it felt warm, and pleasant.
Beam wrinkled his nose at the smell of it.
At least something came out of his dick. It was uselessly floppy, but unlike him, he could feel when the fiend started to get close. Beam got even harder somehow, dicks like stone, impossible and unforgiving. It wasn’t fair that it felt good for him while Denji suffered. But it had always been that way. Denji sank his teeth all the way to the bone in Beam’s shoulder.
With a howl, Beam came deep inside him, both of his dicks shooting off everything they had to give. There was a lot of cum, but Denji was so thoroughly gaped that none of it would stay in him. As soon as Beam pulled out, he felt it leave his body in a rush of thick, sticky fluid.
He felt the sick, empty feeling, the cold air inside him where he'd been hollowed out by dick. It was wrong. It was so wrong.
But the camera was gone. The clock read: 00:00.
He turned over the side of the bed and vomited.
He made it home late. Beam had long since sunk through the floor and disappeared, and Makima was nowhere to be seen after he was finally let out of the porn room. The other public Safety officers carried him. He couldn't walk without limping, even with Beam's blood smeared all over his mouth, he was too delirious..
He had smacked his lips at the metallic taste of it. Better than stale alcohol and tobacco, at least.
Aki was already there, in the kitchen, when he returned. He was cooking something fragrant. Meowy padded up to Denji and rubbed her scent against his pant leg. He was glad to have his clothes on again. Despite the camcorder’s disappearance, it still felt like someone was watching.
“Why don't you take a bath?”
Denji looked up at Aki’s suggestion. “Yeah, okay. Where’s Power?”
“Sleeping.” Aki smelled like he had been smoking.
Denji sank into the warm water with a deep sigh. He was grateful to have a bathroom with a nice, deep tub and a detachable showerhead with a cord that Power liked to gnaw on. Beam’s blood had helped him recover physically, but it was his mind that struggled with what had happened to him. He still felt sick. Violated. He felt like he had failed, even though he did exactly what Makima wanted.
She wasn't there afterward. Anyone who had seen what had happened would be disgusted. He was just a body, right back where he started.
Denji closed his eyes, leaned back, only for water to douse his face. A big splash spilled it all over the bathroom floor, and he growled. Aki was going to be pissed!
Beam shoved himself right in the tub there with Denji. “Lord Chainsaw! Please don't be mad at me!” he begged and sniffled.
“I'm not.” Denji started to climb out of the water, leaving Beam there like a wet puppy with jeans on.
“You’re not?”
“Yeah. It could have been worse.” He shrugged. “All things considered, you were nice.”
“But I hurt you.” Beam pouted sadly.
“People hurt me all the time. Sometimes on purpose, sometimes not.”
Beam refused to leave the tub, while Denji wrapped himself in a towel. They each had their own: Denji, Power, and Aki.
“It's what Makima wanted, so it was for a good reason.” His voice cracked on the last syllable.
Beam rested his chin on the edge of the tub. It was cute. He liked water a lot, though Denji supposed that made sense for a shark.
“Plus, I'm not a virgin anymore, so that means I'm way cooler. I'm practically a catch.” He forced a lopsided smirk.
“Yeah, a catch,” Beam said wistfully. He had been used too. Forced to do gay stuff even if he seemed weirdly excited about it. Denji was skeptical, but he kept his skepticism to himself for now and told himself that Beam was just a weird guy.
“You can stay here if you want, just don't let Aki see you.”
“Yes, sir!” Beam did a little spin in the water, splashing more of it onto the floor.
Denji would have laughed if he was in the mood for it. When he bumped into Aki in the hallway, he was scolded. “Don't leave the lights on.”
“Eh? Oh, the bathroom.” He’d left them on for Beam without thinking.
He returned to the tub only to find Beam curled up underwater, sleeping. Little bubbles rising to the surface as he snored.
“Night, sharky,” Denji said softly, and flipped off the lights.