The weather in the desert illuminated by the shining advertisements of Asmi City was unforgiving enough, but here in the outskirts beyond the perimeter in which the big industries found it unprofitable to develop, the people could be even worse. Bound with chains to the side of a ten-ton truck, battered by wind-blown sand, blasted by the heat of the ruthless sun, and with the blaring jingle for K-Coke's new flavor sung by the hologram of a long-dead singer in their ears from the great steel adship circling the city, poor Laoco'on and Partena were having this fact driven through their skulls every time the driver took a turn and smacked them against the solid metal walls of the vehicle.

The hazy smog allowed the two sods to see only so far in front of them, and if they dared to try and look at where the truck was going, they would be stung by little, coarse, rough, irritating grains wedging their way into their eyes, into the nostrils of Laoco'on's beak, in Partena's snout. Of course, they already knew where the truck was going. All looking ahead would do was give them an idea of how much time they had left. But, oh, it was a long, arduous drive; eventually the turns and twists stopped, the city skyline and lights dwindled into a twinkle on the horizon, and the long-dead singer's new hit faded, leaving only the wind, the roar of the engine, and the crackling of sand against tires and feathers, steel and fur, remaining. 

No words could be heard between them, even if Laoco'on could see Partena's lips moving. But perhaps that was just the wind, or some attempt to puff the sand out of her lungs. Not that there was anything they could say beyond mere platitudes. They knew what they had done; they knew what was coming; and they knew they were in the same boat, up shit's creek without a paddle.

The truck began to climb, the flat, haze-masked ground beginning to tilt sideways, and Laoco'on closed his eyes in defeat. "The Emperor's Grave," he said under his breath. It was a gargantuan crater, hardened by such a great heat that the sand melted, fused together, and formed a solid surface. The crater was vast, the solid layer thick and supported by the packed grains beneath, while the walls were high enough to shield the interior from the harsh winds, limiting the intrusion of the loose grains of sand. Figures clad in loose, light, yet fully-covering clothing patrolled the perimeter of the crater, visible from where Laoco'on and Partena were on the truck, using an arm converted into a leaf blower to push the sand back out when the wind attempted to push it in. The nearest figure watched the truck as it passed, but the suffering, unwilling passengers could not read the features on their face through the protective mask they wore to keep from breathing in the sand and smog.

After what felt to be an agonizingly long time, their transport to hell crested the wall of the crater, and then began to descend. Now, without the sand blowing all around, and without the risk of it getting into their eyes, the two looked almost instinctually in front of them, though they already knew what they were going to see. A small town sat in the center of the crater, with numerous wall-blowers coming and going to and from it as they exchanged their shifts. The truck stopped at the edge of the town's limits, and Laoco'on and Partena braced themselves for what was next, for it could have been nothing good.

Seconds passed. They may as well have been years. Partena's ears twitched, hearing the clicking of unfastened seatbelts and unlocking doors, just before the occupants of the truck started to clamber out. The first came from the passenger side, a reptilian that was much quicker than his large size would let on; he mounted the top of the truck, aiming the gun grafted onto the tip of his tail at Partena's head while the other two dropped down to the ground. It was an ape that drove the car, though if not for her feet taking the shape of hands, one could have easily mistaken her for a hirsute human on account of the shape of her face. At her side was the bat named Roy, or at least, that was the name he had the corporate slogans written on his artificial wing membranes shaped into; but with how he was already decorated in more sponsorships than the best racers of the Tannhauser Circuit, Roy could well have been just another name he was showing off for pay.

Roy strutted up to Laoco'on, a key in his hand. "Now, don't you go off runnin'. What He has planned for ya is already bad enough. Don't make Him so angry He'll have to do it more than once." Despite the warning, there was a sadistic grin on his face while he unfastened the shackles around Laoco'on's ankles, then did the same to Partena's. "Or find something worse." He made no attempt to hide the fact that he was checking out Partena's body, the perverted bat's eyes looking at her fat, heavy tits, or her tight pussy. A tattoo in the shape of a heart surrounded by stars sat just beneath her navel, indicating where the plump girl's womb lay, and Roy couldn't stop himself from nuzzling it with his snout and taking a deep breath.

Partena gasped, and twisted her legs in an attempt to kick him away, but was halted by a warning shot from the lizardman. A single **BANG** rang out, and Partena felt a bristling pain on her snout; a shot so precise that it shaved a line of hair off without breaking the skin. Partena gave up the fight, making her legs as limp as a puppet while her fur stood straighter than its strings.

Roy, of course, took another whiff. "Still fertile. Damn, maybe I oughta piss Him off so I can get punished just as long. Make sure I can still fill that womb up with a litter, ha!" He stepped away, before tossing the key to the lizardman on top of the truck. With skilled hands and a gun trained on the prisoners, he freed Partena first, letting her drop into Roy's arms, and then he did the same to Laoco'on, giving the griffin up to the ape.

Laoco'on grunted, his legs flailing within the grasp of the new captor. "Watch it! My bones are hollow!" He stammered out, pushing against her head with his wings. "Y-you don't want to break me, do you?"

The ape chuckled heartily. "You're not fooling me, bird-boy." She turned her head back, calling to the lizardman on the truck. "Guard it, Holiday!" She shouted, before setting her attention on Laoco'on once more. "I've dealt with your kind before. Other birds, they break like twigs, can barely get a nut out of 'em before they're screaming for the doctors and trying to flap away. But you can't fly. Not with these." She raised her palm and smacked his rear end, the frayed ends of the wires she wore for a bracelet ripping a couple feline hairs out.

"N-No, no, I--I've got mine augmented! Y-You can--"

"Then they should be stronger!" She cut him off before hefting him over her shoulder, one arm holding his legs against her powerful torso, the other eagerly groping his rear end. "Now, shut up. Your fat ass caused enough trouble without you giving me a headache, too."

While she and Roy carried their quarries through the town, they caught the attention of many an onlooker, people of all shapes, sizes, and varying ranges of flesh and steel. Some merely wore their augments, and for others, scraps of skin and muscle was the only thing they had left they could call organic, the only things they refused to give up lest they lose what they thought made them people, proof that they were, at one point, less machine. All those onlookers knew what it meant to be hauled around by the likes of Roy and the ape, along the familiar avenue to the temple, east from the center of the settlement. Personhood was no longer something that would be afforded to them.

The temple took the shape of a broken drill that once pointed to the sky. At five stories high, composed of slapped-together sheet metal and melded wires, welded scrap and mismatched tubing, two spiral staircases went towards the unfinished top, where some workers hauled fresh metal up, and others rolled it down. The idea, so people said, was that this would be an observatory to see the long-masked stars, or a skyscraper to challenge the hegemons who thought themselves to own the world, a vow for vengeance against those who broke it. But in the moment, when Partena and Laoco'on were hauled inside those twelve-foot doors, this was the temple, the capitol, the prison, and so much more, all rolled into one.

And in short order, the two prisoners were brought to have an audience with the chief. 




















Word budget: 18,465

[Synopsis: Up to 20,000 words, but no more. Set in a world like Blade Runner 2049, kinda like Vegas. Pred is a 9 ft tall male-futa horse named Xurtrak Voreus Druznom. Medium breasts; horse genitals. Gray fur. Red eyes. Does not seem to have nipples. Hooved feet, but human hands. A li'l husky but mostly muscular. Minimally augmented; mostly wears the tech rather than integrating it into his body, believing that the real body must be honed first. He will be CVing and AVing the two preys and trapping their souls in respective toys. Prey are a male griff and a wolf girl; Xurtrak may also be spelled Xurtak? Likes to abuse his musk.
Punishment will be brutal and sort of an example to other failed initiates. Prey up the butt gets mulched into shit within the bowels; probably uses the toys to get off while melting them, plunges the toys deep enough to toy with the prey. Might also be part of the process of turning their souls into the toys? Contact and all that. Sound could go down into wolfgirl's pussy or ass, and the anal beads into the griff's dick, as a bit of cruel irony. (Beak can poke at his prostate, too.) Toys will be sentient and will see what happened to their bodies before they get put in a box. Maybe he stuffs the sound all the way into his balls when he's about to cum and curls his dick into his ass first, passing the melted-but-conscious remains into his asshole to be churned into shit while the soul infuses with the toys.
Xurtak is godlike in his tribe, or some kind of high priest. They would beg for mercy and a second chance, probably use language that evokes the image of a desperate sinner - they want to be part of the gang. They failed. 
Initiation - what would that entail? Bounty hunt? Heist gone wrong? Whatever it was, they didn't just fail, they specifically chose to disobey his instructions, so they get a bad punishment. Could be shown off to other initiates as an example - maybe even a public scene or a recording.]