Work Text:
Mikoto tried to go to the nomikai as often as he could, but this was the first time he'd been put in charge of organizing one. It felt like sort of a proud moment, like he was finally beginning to be accepted with all of them at his dream job after all of his hard work. And it had been hard, whether he liked to admit it or not. Needless to say, the drinking was a welcome change from riding the last train home or sleeping under his desk when he didn't manage to catch it, working well past when he could clock out.
It was a casual gathering, not uncommon with his coworkers. There wasn't anything particularly exciting going on, no occasion to prepare for, but he tried to give it his all anyway, even on top of everything. They all seemed content enough as they sat around drinking now, all of their glasses and plates full. Most people had left by now, leaving them crowded around their table with very few people around at all. The boss hadn't been able to come, he'd been on leave for vacation, but that was just as well. One less thing to worry about if he accidentally got a little too tipsy.
“The pork's good,” one of them said gruffly, already red in the face from all the sake he'd had. “Shame the chief isn't here. He still been blowing up your phone, Kayano?”
He laughed a little, only a little embarrassed that they'd noticed. “Not for the last day or so. I'm sure he's busy with his wife, y'know?”
“He acts like you're his wife,” another said, rolling his eyes and taking a long drink.
It stung a little, made the hairs at the back of his neck prickle up, but it wasn't like they knew he was trans. It was just a joke anyway, and one he'd better roll with if he didn't want to come off wrong. He poured him more sake as he put his glass down. “He just wants to make sure I'm staying on task. I like being dependable. I have only been working here a few months, I'm sure it'll settle down.”
“Never got on my ass as much as he does yours. Though I guess we had different majors, huh? Probably values money over whatever it is you do. Trusts me more. Graphic design, right?”
Mikoto nodded, finishing his own glass. He didn't doubt he was at least kind of right, even if it made him wonder. If it was a distrust thing, he should probably start staying even later, do some work at home, maybe. Or maybe they were just pulling his leg still. He was younger than all of them, had worked there the least amount of time, he'd expected a bit of hazing. “You do good work. It’s probably something like that. I really don't mind it though. If I can improve, I'd rather hear it now than down the line.”
His coworker grabbed his glass from beside him, keeping it in his hand as he filled it up. It was a little strange, but he was already a few glasses in, too buzzed to really worry about it. “It's mostly just surprising you're even here to begin with. You're 23, right? I needed half your lifetime's experience before they would even look at me.”
“Well, I guess I just really focused on it. I've been looking at this place since I was a teenager,” he said. He sort of wished he hadn't mentioned it as soon as it left his lips, only reminded him that there had been a before all of this, reminded him that he hadn't seen his mother or his sister in almost a year now. “I wish I had as much under my belt as all of you. It's really admirable. Where did you work before this?”
“Just HR somewhere else.” He finally set his glass back in front of him, returning to his food.
“Hope you're not ever looking for a girlfriend, Kayano. It's one thing when you're our age, but my wife's already stuck with me and she still nags. It's endless. They don't understand that's just how jobs are, coming home late.”
Mikoto tried to laugh politely. “I'm not interested in anything like that right now.”
“You're young, you should live a little. Don't you want to start a family?”
He shrugged, taking a bite of his food. It really was good, especially on his empty stomach. He hadn't had anything since some instant noodles last night. “I'm more worried about taking care of my family back home. My sister's still in school, so things can be expensive, and my mom just works at a little store down in the country. I'm sure I'll get around to it eventually.”
“Well, cheers to you then. That's a good man, looking after the women in his life,” one of them said, holding out his glass.
“Ha. Thanks.” He picked up his own sake, letting them clink together before he drank it down. It didn't taste quite right, ever so slightly off, which was the first sign of many that he'd made a grave error somewhere along the line. It hadn't hit for now though, dismissed with another bite of his dinner as he continued on none the wiser.
The conversation moved on with that, drifting over to another of his coworker's kid's classes. He took the chance to eat, chiming in with nods and sounds of agreement when called for. The longer they went on though, the slower everything seemed to be as it processed through his head. He didn't think he was all that tired, he'd slept fine the night before. His hands fumbled a little, so maybe it was the drink, but he wasn't too much of a lightweight either.
“This stuff’s strong tonight, huh?” he laughed, deciding it'd be better to just leave his cup full for the rest of the night. He really tried not to let himself go in front of them, both for professionalism and… he didn't really want them to know what he was like, under his polite smiles and trained way of speaking. He could get strange when he was out of sorts, and nobody needed to see him like that.
“Drunk already?” one of them laughed. “We've hardly been here half an hour.”
“Yeah, sorry, I dunno what's— ugh, fuck.” He tried not to curse either, but it slipped out of him before he could think about it, gagging loudly and turning to the side before he puked all over the floor. What was wrong with him? “Sorry. I think I'd better get home. How much should I leave?”
The man next to him patted his back rather firmly, clamping down on his shoulder to keep him seated. “Happens to us all sometimes, kid. Can you even walk straight though? I've never seen you this out of it.”
“I'll be fine, I think.” He wasn't so sure himself, to be honest, his head was really swimming by now. “I just gotta get to the station… What time is it?”
“Half past midnight. Think you probably just missed the last one anyway.”
Damn it. “I'll… I dunno. I'll figure it out.” He gagged again, though he managed to suppress this one, trying very unsuccessfully to get up from his seat. His body wouldn't obey him properly, his legs felt like he imagined a baby deer's would, and the dizziness wasn't helping matters at all.
A strong pair of hands was around his waist before he stumbled too far, making his breath catch in his throat for a second. “Why don't we just take this back to my house? You can stay in my guest room, and we can have some beers out of my fridge.”
Mikoto felt more than a little relieved, even if this whole thing was deeply embarrassing. He'd have to make up for all of this later, somehow. He thanked whatever god was listening that his boss had missed all this, even if he'd probably hear about it anyway. “You really don't have to, if it's too much of a bother. I just don't —urghhh— my apartment's a good twenty minutes away by train.”
“It's fine, it's fine. Anything for the chief's bitch.” He couldn't help but catch the tone, the almost mocking words, but he really had no leg to stand on right now, even literally speaking. One of the bigger men slung him over his shoulder, and Mikoto let himself slip away a little as they all filed out, bidding their goodbyes to the owner. It was all he could do to avoid throwing up all over the guy's shirt, one of his hands clamped firmly over his mouth as the other dangled there uselessly.
He couldn't really watch where they were going with his head hung down, but he doubted he'd be able to process it anyway. Everything was sensations right now. Nausea. His large hands ached against Mikoto's back, as did his broad shoulder digging into his stomach, the same sort of pain he got when he had a particularly bad fever. His head felt full of rocks banging around. Every part of him was trembling slightly. It was almost like his thoughts had taken form too, nagging against his skull, more distinct and loud than usual, paranoid. What made him the most humiliated though, and the only real thing he could focus on with all of this, was how wet he was beginning to get.
They must have gotten to his house at some point. They were inside, and they were all talking amongst each other, and he'd been slung down to lay against a firm mattress. The light hurt his eyes as it flicked on, and he mumbled some sort of half-hearted request to have it off, but it went ignored. That was fine. He didn't think it would take him long to fall asleep regardless, he'd almost slipped away while being carried here.
Even as hands started touching him again, pushing at the bottom of his shirt, he barely processed it. That's nice of them, he thought, taking off my dirty clothes so they can wash them for tomorrow. No. No, something nudged at his head, dug at the front of his skull like someone was in there trying to kick his brain back into action.
A sharp laugh dragged him out of his thoughts, and he was suddenly brought back to reality as his superior was there standing over him, shirt in hand and groping his chest through his binder. “You're a chick? This is even better.”
He tried to move his hands in front of himself, but it was too late, the damage had been done. He pinned Mikoto's hands over his head in just one hand, easier than breathing, his other still prodding at his tit. “Stop,” he murmured.
“Probably why the boss likes her so much,” another said, grinning down at him. “Did you fuck him, Kayano? Suck his dick to make him pay you so much attention?”
“Well it's not her personality,” another chimed in, grabbing at his faintly kicking legs by the ankles. “You're such an annoying kiss-ass, you know that? It's not cute.”
The pounding in his head only got worse as he tried to take it all in, to make every part of him catch up to the reality that was beginning to sink in. He hadn't been drunk at all. He'd been an idiot, and now he was here, stuck in this guy's house with all of his male coworkers, pent up and drunk after a long day of work. A harsh slap across his face made it all go spinning again, even as the perpetrator yanked him right back in place by the hair. “Answer the question. We've really been wanting to know. You offer him your ass to get this job? That why he texts you all the time?”
“Check her phone, I bet there's nudes,” one of them snickered, taking it upon himself to root around in his pockets. Mikoto stared in horror as his screen was pointed at his face, unlocking itself for him at the sight.
He didn't think he'd find out what he ever found in there, even if he knew it wouldn't be that. The rest of them seemed to be losing patience, their hands all slowly creeping up to grab and grope at him, begin pulling his clothes off. His pants were yanked down until he was left in just his boxers and his binder, and still his body refused to obey. His knees were hiked up to his chest as one of the older men knelt between them, rubbing between his legs as the others spread him wide for him.
“Damn,” he laughed, taking a pocket knife off of his belt which had Mikoto's stomach in knots. “I can feel how wet you are already. We haven't even started yet.”
The knife dug in under the band of his boxers, pressing up until the fabric tore with a ripping sound. They were torn off from there, tossed to the side as Mikoto could feel all eyes now staring at his cunt. Worst of all, he couldn't even write off what he'd said as just taunting, because he could feel it. He was so soaked he could feel himself practically throbbing already, the air cool against his slit.
“Get that thing on her chest next,” said the one still pinning his wrists. “I wanna see those tits.”
“Stop,” he said again, still trying to squirm away, but he doubted it'd be possible even if he was completely sober. There were a dozen of them, and half of them were grabbing at him somehow, and one had a knife currently pressed right against his collar bone. He winced as his binder was cut through, leaving a few nicks on his chest as his breasts were sprung free, sore and sensitive from being pressed down all day at work.
That was torn off of him too, along with laughing and more groping, slapping at them and pinching at his nipples until they came to stiff little pink peaks. “Fuck, those are nice,” one of them groaned, spitting down into his eyes. “Yeah, y'know, I thought you guys were talking out of your ass, but I'm starting to think maybe you were right. You slutting out for the boss?”
He shook his head, feeling like he looked pathetic and desperate, but what was he meant to say? Was it worse if he did or didn't? “I didn't, 'm sorry. I dunno what this is about, why are you doing this to me?”
“Cuz you're an annoying little prick that pretends to be better than everybody else all the damn time. You're not like a real person, all you talk about is fucking work and the boss and deadlines, and you've still got the chief dishing out projects for you all the time and demanding you show up to every little thing. Do you like making the rest of us look like shit?”
Mikoto shook his head quickly, though his words were escaping him. The man between his legs had shoved in roughly, fucking into him with no time left to adjust at all, pushing little moans and whines out of him. “Sorry,” was all he could manage, trying to even breathe properly. “I'm really sorry, I'll stop.”
“Damn right you'll stop. Bet you're gonna stop showing up now, huh? I hope he sends you right back to where the rest of us had to spend our time, fumbling around trying to find somebody who gives a shit about your stupid art degree.”
“Do you know how long we've been wanting to do this?” another asked, pulling his cock out of his jeans. “You know how long you've been pissing everybody off?”
“Please, I can just go sleep outside,” he said, his voice sounding foreign to his ears.
“Hell no. We've earned this.” His tits were being pressed tight against each other, the man perched over his torso shoving his cock right between them. “People your age could do with a little humbling anyway, and you're just proof of it.”
“Too friendly with people you don't know,” said the man fucking him, punctuating himself with harsh thrusts. “You brag too much. You get all the opportunities just because the boss knows you're a doormat he doesn't have to pay well. You're gonna quit when he gets back, you understand?”
Mikoto nodded, moaning loudly and only making himself wish more than he already had that he would just pass out and let them get on with it. There was no escaping it, there was clearly no talking his way out of it, it was all he could hope for to just slip away and let his body take the brunt of it instead of his mind. “I'll quit, I'll quit,” he lied, trying anything to placate them.
“Good. Gonna make you want to anyway, whether you mean that or not. You're gonna take all of our cocks before you get out of here, slut. I hope he really has been fucking you, or this is gonna really suck for you.”
“Were you a virgin?” one of them taunted, slapping against his stiff clit and making his legs tremble with pleasure-pain. “Before this?”
He didn't want to answer that, didn't know which would be safer to say anyway, so he just tried to think of anything else. There had to be something, some way he could make this even a little easier on himself. “I'm not gonna— I'll take it, you can rape me, just please don't kill me or anything.”
One of them barked out a laugh, grabbing one of his hands to begin jerking himself off. “Of course not, we're not stupid. And damn right we're gonna rape you. We don't need your permission for that, you dumb bitch.”
“Might keep you a while. You don't got any family, who's gonna notice? Nobody but your precious boss gives a damn about whether you live or die anyway, and he only likes you because he can make you dance and clap and rim his ass just by telling you to do it. He won't be back until Monday, and you're not gonna tell him.”
“Not unless you want him hearing you're really a girl. Or seeing these pictures.” As if one cue, the man who'd taken his phone held it up, a bright flash going off as it took him in. “Could spread 'em around too, then good luck getting work after that. Your poor mother would be so embarrassed, and I guess your sister would be in trouble at school, wouldn't she? You'd better hope we don't think you're misbehaving too much, or it's gonna be more than us jacking off to these.”
Mikoto's face burned with humiliation, trying to let himself float somewhere far away from all of this. The men were groaning as they fucked him, one making the others angle his hips up so he could sink deeper inside of Mikoto's cunt, the other huffing and groaning as he gave himself a titjob. He would just have to go along with this. They were right, he didn't really have another choice, both for his and his family's sakes. Even so, it felt unbearable, and he knew it could only get worse.
Every hand on his body felt like a strike, his senses were overwhelmed by the stench of the dick near his face, but as much as all of that was overwhelming his mind, so was the pleasure being forced upon him. It was something to focus on, something besides all the horrible parts he was trying his hardest to block out. Unavoidable. What was wrong with him? He should be scared, and he felt like he might be, somewhere far away. He should certainly be more ashamed than he was acting, moaning and beginning to roll into the thrusts inside of him rather than against them. He should be pissed that his coworkers, people he'd thought he'd been getting along well with, had apparently been waiting for their boss to be gone to do something like this.
But Mikoto didn't get scared, and he certainly didn't get angry. That was just the way he was. Maybe that's all this was now. Whatever it was that made him agreeable kept him that way even now, unable to accept anything besides what he was being given, like this was in any way rational or normal. That's why he wasn't crying, or struggling, had only bothered quietly asking them to stop a few times. Like he almost didn't mind this whole thing at all.
A spray of cum shot out from the man's dick, spraying over his lips and chin, all the way down to where his head was twitching against his chest now. He was up before Mikoto could even process the new violation, giving one of his tits a final slap before dismounting him.
Mikoto could see more clearly now, able to take in the whole room where it had once been blocked by his stocky figure perched over him. The ones that weren't fucking him, or holding his legs down, or using his hands like toys were standing around watching, stroking the cocks over his stomach and chest. He could see every thrust inside of himself, where his coworker was currently buried deep, in and out, in and out. His shaft was thick, and hairy, and it made Mikoto clench the longer he stared at it.
“You're not ready for a family, but you're just the right age to get knocked up,” he was grunting, grabbing at his hips almost bruisingly. “Bet you're gonna have to deal with that after tonight, huh? Are you on birth control?” He wasn't. He hadn't seen the point. It wasn't like he thought he'd be having sex with anyone, but here he was. It scared him though, made him wonder. How many times would they cum inside of him tonight? How much did he trust his luck? “Gonna fill you up with so much cum you can't help but get pregnant. Are you excited to retire young? To find a nice guy and be a stay at home mom?”
“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, and to his disgust he came. It didn't process until he'd already come down, until they were all laughing, and rubbing at his swollen tcock, and making fun of him in little snippets amongst themselves, but there was no mistaking the way it made his legs turn to jelly and his heart pound. His brain felt like mush, but there was no way this would feel logical even without the drugs. What kind of fucked up freak would cum to something like that?
It was like the orgasm had broken something in his brain. As much as he'd been disoriented before, this was all a new kind of confusing. It was like every time he blinked a few minutes would pass, skipping past him like scratches on a CD. Someone had cum across his stomach. Someone was tugging at his sensitive nipples. They were taunting him for tightening up at the pain. Someone had cum across his chest. One of the men he was jerking off had cum into his hair. Someone was slapping him across the face, and they were saying something. The man inside of him had cum.
The fullness felt almost intoxicating, now that he was so far gone. He felt lost inside of himself, like whatever Mikoto was had wandered off and he was just whatever shell was left after there was nothing else. He felt like he was floating, like he was watching all of this from outside of himself, taking it in almost like a really fucked up porn. Thinking of it like that, it didn't feel so unnatural. He almost welcomed it, wanted it, the only thing making this bearable. As he was dragged further down the edge of the bed, he almost missed the cock that had been inside of him.
He didn't have to wait long, though it wasn't ideal. Someone had crouched by his head, prying his jaw open to force his jaw inside. His cock was hot and heavy on Mikoto's tongue, his nose was buried in his balls as he thrust inside. There was nothing he could do but take it. Of course there wasn't. All that connected him to this body now was the pleasure rocketing through him.
He found himself wailing happily as someone finally took over for the last guy, shoving his legs back apart to push inside, with considerably less friction after a load had already been stuffed into him. It was strange, if he thought about it too much. He wasn't like this. He didn't care about sex, definitely not enough to be getting into it like this, even if he wasn't being—
Even the word was too much, felt like it had to pass through some filter first, one that wouldn't allow it. It was just sex. Rough, and disorienting, and painful if he focused enough, but sex nonetheless. He was just someone that had sex with his higher ups now, his coworkers. Plenty of people did that anyway.
The loads kept coming. He supposed it made sense, with as many of them as there were, but it all felt so vivid. He could pick out where it had splattered inside of him more than he could tell the difference between any of them anymore, all of their faces fading to distorted, staticky messes. Just men, standing over him, pressing him down, soaking him in cum and filling him up.
And god he felt full. A second man filled up his cunt, then a third, each of them making his cunt clench around the air as they left him. They were sure to let him know, commenting as it dribbled slowly out, using their calloused fingers to push it back inside. It was almost easier to feel inside of himself without being able to look, his mouth occupied with now choking around the man fucking his face.
Nauseous as he was, he gagged loudly as he finally came down his throat too, making his tongue feel sticky with the bitter stuff. He didn't dare let himself vomit, not when he was still honestly kind of scared for his life, swallowing it down after a moment along with the man's cum. He was being moved again even as he was still trying to cough up the jizz coating his throat, maneuvered around like a sex doll.
Soon he was seated on someone's cock, but as much as he'd panted and let his cunt drool for this one, he found himself screaming through grit teeth instead. He'd shoved up inside of his ass, not bothering to give him any sort of warning or preparation. It made his head loll back onto the perpetrator's shoulder, groaning as he was bounced gently up and down.
“Yeah, shit, now there's a hole,” he cursed into Mikoto's ear, nipping at his exposed neck teasingly.
“Let me in,” another said, sliding between his legs as the first groped at his tits roughly, his nails digging in sharp and ragged. Mikoto's cunt was filled just as swiftly as his ass, sore and raw by now from all the men that had fucked him already. “Goddamn. If you're good for one thing, it's this. Maybe you really should give up on office life, just be a street hooker or something. You wouldn't have to beg like a dog to make your work worthwhile then, would you?”
Mikoto's hands buried themselves in the shirt of the man in front of him, still whining as he laid against the man behind him. Both of his holes felt full to the brim, he could feel his womb begging for more still against all logic, relishing in the feeling of the two lengths inside of him taking opposing paced. He could feel the hickies being sucked into his neck, the hands grabbing and pulling at every part of him, the dicks rubbing against his insides, his face, his feet, in the crooks of his knees, his armpits. He somehow felt everything and nothing, endless endless nothing as the world swirled around him. Little clips of vision even if his eyes were wide open, an underlying track of sensation, crude words he could only catch snippets of.
He was on his hands and knees. They'd moved him again at some point, and he hadn't even noticed a single second of it. He choked back a sob as his head hung below him, at just the right angle to see two men pistoning in and out of his cunt alongside each other, a steady stream of semen pooling down, dripping right off the tip of his very hard tdick. Closing his eyes didn't help. The image was burned into his eyes, and that was the least of his concerns right now anyway.
He was moaning like a complete whore. Worse, he was begging for it. Maybe it was broken enough, shaky from crying and disorientation and having his throat fucked, that none of them noticed. The pleading fell loud from his lips anyway, like he was possessed.
They'd bred him, completely, made his stomach swell slightly with the amount of cum inside of him by now, not to mention what was splattered all over the rest of his body. Reality seemed to warp as he watched, back and forth, in and out like the cocks that had violated every inch of him. There was blood, then there wasn't. There was screaming, then there wasn't. He was swollen up like he really had gotten pregnant, far enough along that he could see a little foot kicking against his taut skin, and then it was just the bulge of two dicks in his pussy.
“Fuck,” he panted, afraid, horny, gone. “Please, please, please.” If they heard him, nobody said anything. They'd been drinking as they went, and the clock on the wall told him it was 6 in the morning now, and he had to think they would have to near their end soon. They had to. It was just as well they were ignoring his voice now, any signs that he was more than a sex toy shared between them. He didn't know if he was asking for more or for an end at this point, and he didn't really want to know.
His face was shoved down into the mattress, his nose mashing up against it painfully. His moans and cries blended together into pathetic sounds, doing nothing but making himself choke on his own spit. Their pace was relentless, even now. He could hear his own cunt squelching around them, trying to grip at their cocks for purchase even if his walls were too coated in cum by now to do anything.
He was pregnant. He knew, deep in his gut. Maybe it was just their threats, or what he had to assume were hallucinations, or maybe it was just whatever natural instinct came with having a body like his. There was no avoiding it though, the thought plaguing him. At this angle, their jizz was settling deep inside of him, seeping past his cervix and up into his womb, and he could almost feel it catching, invading him, ruining his body for whatever life he might have had ahead of this.
One of them dumped their load inside of him, but still the cycle remained endless. His limbs were moved around like he was a wooden mannequin, the dicks stuffed inside of him were swapped out as the last left, and he was starting to wonder if this would ever end. It certainly didn't feel like it was going to. They felt more like animals, like machines than men, designed just to take him apart enough that he was left hanging by thin threads of himself, his being too separated to ever come back to what it had been.
But eventually the sun came up, an alarm from another room blared, and he was dropped down to the bed. The lack of hands was almost more disorienting than the constant touches, his eyes fluttering as he looked up at them. “Where're you going?” he slurred, not quite comprehending what was going on as they all tightened up their belts.
“Going to work,” their host chuckled. “Guess you'll have to take your first day off, huh, Kayano? You really oughta watch how much you drink.” Almost mockingly, he set one of their remaining bottles of beer on the nightstand, letting the rest of their coworkers file out, muttering amongst themselves.
It still hadn't really clicked. It all caught up, at least in his throat if not in his mind. His voice caught like he was still on the verge of crying, even if that made no sense. He should feel relieved, not abandoned. “Don't just leave me?”
He ignored him still, not sparing Mikoto a second glance. “You can let yourself out. If you're still here when I get home, you'll have to live with that decision.” And then he was gone. The house was quiet. The front door was locked. Mikoto was alone.
He couldn't just stay. He knew that much at least. But he didn't think he could walk, or even get very far like this if he tried. There had been stairs on the way in, he distantly remembered that much. His legs weren't in any kind of shape to hold him up, even if he was slowly coming out of his drugged stupor. Everything hurt horribly, and he was exhausted, and he wanted nothing more than to just lay somewhere forever.
His hands crept between his legs as he rolled onto his bag, stroking his tdick gently. It jumped with overstimulation, but it was the best he'd been given all night, and he didn't think stopping now would spare him anything. He had to focus though. He couldn't follow his sudden sex drive, not if there was even a chance.
His cunt had been stretched obscenely. He felt sick as he felt the velvety walls, wet and warm and soft. It made it easier on him now, he tried to reason. He could worry later. His fingers sunk in, four of them, with no resistance to speak of. He'd hoped he'd maybe imagined the volume of cum inside of him, but then, there it was. It was a horrifying sight, one that made him feel like there was a heavy stone sinking deep into his stomach. It nearly looked like Mikoto had stuck his fingers into a pot of glue instead of inside of himself, all four of his fingers drenched with the stuff as he scooped it out, let it dribble onto his stomach.
The pool of cum only grew as he went back in for more, letting his fingers scrape uncomfortably against his insides as he did his best to cleanse himself of as much of it as he could, but the task felt impossible. He felt filthy with the stuff, contaminated, like they'd somehow stuffed it into his veins too. It ran through him now as much as his DNA did, something he couldn't run from or wash himself of. His skin crawled as he smeared the stuff on his thighs, his stomach, anywhere but inside of him.
It was no good. There was no undoing it. Any of this. How could he go back to work? This job, but any job? How could he ever face his family after he'd given up so much to get here? How would he pay back what he'd taken out to afford college? How would he afford an apartment in the city? What would he do if they spread those pictures around anyway? What would he do if he really was pregnant now? How could he ever be a parent, especially when it had been because of something like this?
His fingers were still buried inside of himself, hopeless and still as it all washed over him. The cum dripped down onto the mattress around him as he sniffled quietly to himself, letting his eyes flutter shut. His fingers rocked inside of himself. The stimulation felt painful. Felt comforting. His thumb stroked his tdick.
He'd have to sleep. He wouldn't get anywhere if he didn't sleep it off, whether that meant dealing with getting raped again or not. It didn't really matter at this point. Then he'd have to leave. Catch the train home. Replace his phone. Then he'd call his mom… No, no, she couldn't hear about this. She'd worry herself sick. She'd want him to come home. He'd figure it out himself from there.
He peeked one eye open, heavy as it was, to do one final scan of his surroundings. A beer. His clothes, his cut up underwear. He'd have to go home with nothing underneath. He knew his phone was still in one of their pockets. He didn't think he should ask for it back, even if he did decide to return. Like it was even really a decision. He needed this job. Everything would be ruined if he lost this job. He had to try. He didn't know if his wallet would be there. Another bridge to cross later.
“Fuck,” he sighed. It was a decent release of something, whatever it was hovering in his chest. He couldn't place the feeling. It was a knot of things, foreign and unwelcome. “Fuck,” he said louder, his fingers moving faster. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”
The neighbors could probably hear. If not his assault, his shouting. He didn't care. It didn't sound like himself anyway. He was still lost inside of himself somewhere, focusing on a different kind of release. He worked himself through it, his hips stuttering against his hands until he came, the rest of his body still shouting and crying. And then, like a switch had been flipped, he fell asleep.
―――――*☼*―――――
Everything was sore. Mikoto wasn't really sure why. He hadn't done anything particularly strenuous recently, beyond his usual baseball practice to blow off some steam. It wasn't in his arms though, not really. Walking was hard. He felt stiff. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. He'd been having insomnia again. He usually did when he got sick.
It was the first time he'd taken off since starting this job. He'd hoped to avoid it, but he found himself doing it anyway. His days felt distant, scattered, like he was back to running on autopilot like he sometimes did. He rarely remembered waking up, or even going to bed at all, and by the time he realized what time it was it was usually nearly time for lunch anyway. He didn't think too much of it. His head ached, and he felt horribly weak, and whatever this bug was he didn't really want to spread it around the office. It had been a few days though, and the chief was back, and Mikoto felt well enough he couldn't make excuses for himself anymore.
He offered everyone a smile as he came in for the day, hoping he could manage to keep himself together. It made him nervous at this point to be slacking at all with how on top of things he'd stayed since getting a job here, but he tried to tell himself he was being silly. There was no reason he should be this on edge. He'd spent longer puffing at his vape than usual before he came in, tapping his foot on the sidewalk anxiously. His hands were shaking a little. He could feel himself sweating through his clothes. It was honestly ridiculous, even if it was just the tail end of whatever he'd caught.
It was just a normal day at work. Even if everyone in the office was staring at him strangely. Even if no one offered him a greeting in return. Even if his one coworker was glaring at him in a way that had him feeling… strange. Sick. All over again, sick. His brown eyes bore into him, and it all got worse. That horrible sense of dread, the feeling of being watched, of nausea, of his stomach swelling with life, of a dozen dicks ramming themselves inside of him.
How had he forgotten? Mikoto stared, cotton-mouthed at them all, trying to work out what to say to any of them. Why had he come back here at all? Was he an idiot?
A hand clapped on his shoulder, and Mikoto jumped at the sudden contact, whirling around. “Whoa, whoa,” his boss laughed, holding his hands up peacefully. “Didn't mean to spook you, Kayano. You look like you saw a ghost.”
“I—” Mikoto shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. This was no time to panic. “Sorry. How was your vacation?”
“Oh, swell. I saw you took Thursday and Friday off?”
“Yes, sir. I wasn't feeling like myself. It won't happen again.”
“I'd hope not. Go on and sit down, would you? You've got quite the pile to get through.”
“Yes, sir.” His legs carried him to his desk, a marvel he was honestly impressed at. He could feel everyone's eyes on him as he glanced over what he'd been left, trying to force his brain to focus on reading instead of the horrible things flashing through his head. Just another day at work, he told himself. They won't do anything here. Just stay later than anyone else, and it'll be fine. A familiar safety net. He could do that.