Interlude 3


Interlude 3: The Girl In The Cage

You rap assertively on the metal door and defiantly glare at the scarred Reptilian male who opens it. “You’ve returned,” Sssaka says, disappointed and proud all at once. You were never any good at reading Reptilian expressions, but you imagine you see sympathy and understanding in his battered face, instead of the confusion and pity you get from your friends. From your father. “Ssssss, come in then.”

Sssaka ushers you into The Destroyer’s Chamber below the Arena and escorts you straight to the cage. It is small and domed, just a narrow cylinder with a rounded top made of bent steel construction wire, the kind they use to reinforce concrete. The cage is comfortably taller than you, you're short and petite, but it is narrow too, hardly wide enough to stick out your elbows. Hardly wide enough to squat in. It is your own little human aviary.

You remove your clothing: your practical shoes, your branded Destroyer jacket with the commemorative battle holograms, your Arena jersey made up in The Destroyer’s colors, your fine blouse, your long skirt, your hose and bra and underwear. You stand naked, small and trim, toned from the urgent ministrations of the family fitness trainer, thin from the meal plan from the family dietician, and prettier and bustier thanks to a discrete trip to a Shaper. You look healthy and pretty and rich, but none of it really feels earned exactly. Which of course is a problem for the family therapist, or would be if they weren’t so obviously working for your father. 

You hand your clothes to Sssaka and go to the cage, skin prickling in the cool morning air. You get down on your hands and knees and crawl on the floor, squirming your body shamelessly to squeeze through the narrow cage opening and inside your enclosure. You blush and feel grateful that The Destroyer has never seen this daily act of humiliation. You doubt it makes you look sexy. Ssaka locks the tiny door behind you, sealing you inside. He gives you a nod and then activates the winch which lifts the cage off the floor. You grasp the rough metal bars and wait for the cage to stop swaying. Here you are, back again. Still.


You hear the rattle of chains and twist to see one of The Destroyer’s pets staring at you. The Shaped tiger-girl is laying in her bed, her muscular orange and black-striped body artfully posed with her eight large breasts pooled down her front. Tiger’s golden eyes regard you with a predatory hunger and her heavy tail flicks thoughtfully. Inside the cage you shiver, even though you’re protected by the cage bars, even though Tiger’s ankle is chained to the wall, you can’t help but feel like prey whenever Tiger looks at you like that. You’re never sure if the petgirl wants to eat you or fuck you or both. Tiger sees you watching and yawns with a rumble, showing off her sharp teeth and her long rough tongue. Then Tiger crawls to her mate, the sleeping lion-man, rolls him onto his back and climbs atop him. Straddling the drowsy Lion she places her big forepaws on either side of his head and leans down to lick his face while rubbing her crotch demandingly against his. Lion opens his eyes and purrs, reaches up to grope Tiger’s mass of tits with his paws. Tiger growls playfully, bites Lion gently in his luxurious brown mane and presses herself against him, her tail lashing the air. Lion thrusts his hips, grinds their crotches together and drags his claws across Tiger’s back, scratching her and making her purr. Tiger bats at him with her claws, kittenish revenge, and the Lion knocks her off him with a roar. Tiger twists effortlessly, lands on her four paws and turns away from Lion, lifting her ass and tail, presenting herself. Tiger is on his knees and his huge pink cock is erect and exposed from his sheath. He makes a rumble like distant thunder, a fearsome growling purr, and then pounces, his ropey muscular body grappling Tiger, clutching her by the waist, working his cock against her pussy. The two wiggle and growl, fumbling, until with a triumphant snort Lion forces his cock into Tiger. Tiger yowls and bucks and Lion starts to thrust and growl, two massive Shaped beasts straining against each other with all their strength. 

As you watch Tiger and Lion fuck you wonder what it would be like to be them. To decide, like however it was they decided, to forsake your humanity and become a Pet, to become property. Did you want that? To maybe be a cheetah-girl, long and angular and ropey, with eight little breasts, pinned under the strong paws of Lion, feeling him ram his cock into you as you grind your claws into the mattress and yowl like Tiger? Would they welcome you into their Pride? Would Tiger be jealous? Would Tiger fuck you with her long rough tongue? Did you even want to be their mate? You shake your head, no. You were not here for them. 

Tiger yowls again and twists in orgasm. Inside the cage you blush, but don’t look away. Maybe you could be a different kind of pet? Take inspiration from your cage maybe, become a bird creature, a sexy little songbird harpy. You close your eyes and picture yourself with wings instead of arms, bright blue feathers with lavender highlights, a skirt of downy thighs over scaled avian legs, and long flowing tail feathers in the brightest pink. You imagine opening your elegant beak and singing a beautiful song that makes everyone fall in love with you. That makes The Destroyer fall in love with you. Makes her break open the cage and free you. Makes her want to fuck you in the avian pussy while you flap your wings in ecstasy. You gasp and open your eyes, shiver, is that the life you want? Could you become someone’s plaything? Lion roars and clutches Tiger tightly, thrusts his hips one last time, and cums.


“Why do you keep returning?”

You shake your head to wake from your dose and see Monk staring at you. The tall Blue Deviant regards you intently with their large black eyes. The metal bands implanted in their skin glint and their wide nostrils are rimed with bright red dust. Monk’s hands are black with grease and he smells like oils and solvents. “You must know by this time that she does not give a fuck about you.”

Monk paces around your cage, arms and hands twitchy, the many tools on their belt rattling. You watch them blankly, too used to the mercurial temper of The Destroyer’s tech to be baited. “It is a cruelty to yourself to continue this. Why not surrender to the truth? You can observe how she does not hesitate to couple with her chosen playthings.” Monk wipes the drug residue from their face, replacing it with a smear of black lubricant. “How can you ignore reality?”

You stare at Monk silently, mouth set defiantly. You know how The Destroyer values determination. This is a test of your resolve. You will endure it as long as she needs. You can be a badass too. You cross your arms.

Monk laughs and walks away, “This one will never understand humans!”


The Destroyer’s bedroom door snaps open and you stare at it with rapt attention. Your heart flutters and you grip the cage bars so hard that it hurts. This is why you are here! This is everything! This is what you live for.

In walks The Destroyer, her lean face set in a grin. You drink her in like medicine, her strong angular face with its rough collection of scars, that one long prominent cicatrix running ragged and red from her temple to her chin, the crest of undercut black hair messy from the bedroom, her perfect violet eyes. You shiver as you experiences something transcendental. Encircled in The Destroyer’s slim white arms are her lovers for the night: short twin women, the visiting Archer-Acrobats, both looking giddy and a little ashamed. Their lithe dancer bodies are still naked and the elaborate linework of their blue or red bodypaint is ruined, smudged and rubbed away, patterns undone by a very intimate sort of combat. The Destroyer’s white prosthetic body is stained and streaked with smears of blue and red, her own markings of carnal victory. You blush and bite your lip; feel a familiar pang of jealousy. You would give anything to be with her!

As The Destroyer guides her twin lovers across the room you imagine the three of them fucking. The Destroyer’s slender mannequin body morphing sexually, growing heavy breasts and a thick long cock. A straining porcelain white erection. A mocking little smile. A raised battered eyebrow issued like a challenge. Hungry violet eyes. You imagine the Archer-Acrobats being nervous, excited and scared, feeling dirty since maybe this is the first time they’ve ever shared a lover. They look to each other, unsure, but one of them smiles, maybe the blue twin, and the red one smiles back, shy but eager. You picture them coming together like dancers, circling gracefully, elusive and silly, until The Destroyer grabs one, the red sister, and pulls them to her hungry mouth. You imagine passionate kissing, lips and teeth and tongues, until the jealous blue twin joins them, starts to gently gnaw on The Destroyers neck. The three grapple intimately, kissing and caressing and fondling, two contortionists and a hyper-flexible prosthetic, a human and cyborg knot of arousal. Bodypaint rubs onto The Destroyer, her white body becoming a canvas daubed with passion. The three sway and stumble and urgently grope their way into bed with The Destroyer braced on her back and the two acrobats balanced on top of her. Blue straddles The Destroyer’s hips, works her huge cock into her pussy, gasps and moans. Red sits on The Destroyer’s face, presents her cunt for feasting, moans and gasps, mirrors her twin. The two Archer-Acrobats begin to thrust their hips, to cup their small high breasts, to grind and fuck, panting, motions almost identical, subconsciously synchronized as if they were performing in The Arena. The twins move faster, rock harder, two gymnasts fucking themselves on a living apparatus, and then, all at once, they simultaneously cum, both falling bonelessly forward into the other's arms, moaning into their sister’s desperate mouths. 

The Destroyer knocks them off her in a gasping pile, Red splayed awkwardly on top of Blue. The Destroyer grabs Red by the handles of her hips and drags her up onto her knees and starts to fuck her from behind. Blue looks up from below, pinned on her back with her legs spread open, and The Destroyer gently shoves Red’s head between her sister’s thighs. Red is aghast and gasping, her twin’s engorged pussy is right in her face and every thrust from The Destroyer is bumping her closer. She is just barely holding herself back. Blue gasps and squirms, heart racing, she sees what’s happening and wants it, but is ashamed of wanting it. Red slips, or maybe Blue grabs her with her thighs and pulls her in, but suddenly Red’s lips are on her twin’s labia, and she’s kissing and sucking and fucking Blue with her mouth. Blue moans and grinds her pussy into her sister’s face while The Destroyer growls and just fucks Red harder…

You’re panting and your nipples ache; your pussy is hot and wet and throbbing with need. You want to fuck The Destroyer so fucking bad! Your body yearns for The Destroyer! Lusts to be pounded by her! Begs to be inside her! Your blood boils with jealousy and desire! You gasp down deep breathes to calm yourself as The Destroyer kisses the Archer-Acrobats goodbye and sends them away happy and guilty and hand-in-hand. The Destroyer smiles and wipes red bodypaint from her cheek and walks to her dojo for her morning meditation.


You watch the Chamber grow busier as The Destroyer’s team arrives for work. Her steel-spined elderly manager argues with a Promoter about the purse for an upcoming fight. Monk eats a jittery meal while staring plaintively at a broken component, still trying to puzzle out a quick fix. An earnest young female Reptilian and a deadeyed human man with the hood of a cobra conduct the Serpent’s business. Sssaka calmly turns away a group of Blue Deviants looking for an autograph. Tiger and Lion lounge on their mattress, fed and sated and contently bored. And you, hanging in your cage.

You think about the tethers that pull them all to The Destroyer. Sssaka’s drive to rediscover faded glory, his love for the fight. Monk’s need to compete and have his brilliance celebrated in Socially Disharmonious ways. The Manager’s greed and material appetites. The Reptilian Syndicate’s hunger for a Cut of the Action and the mysterious Patronage of the Serpent. Steady meals and sex and ownership for the pets. It’s clear to you what everyone is getting out of the deal. Except for you, yourself, why are you still here?

You wiggle your arm up you body and play with your hair, why are you so obsessed with The Destroyer? What compels you to come here day after day to hang naked in a tiny cage? Why do you do it when The Destroyer continues to ignore your devotion? You’d been a fan first, of course, one of the many packing the Arena galleries to watch the Champions fight. It’d been an illicit thrill for you, a place you could sneak off to to escape your father. You had always loved the spectacle, the skill and excitement, the simple brutality of it. The storylines and drama. The romance. How fucking awesome it was! You quickly chose favorites: Lagertha The Untamed, Aggronotham The Strongest, Sssandisss The Quicksilver, and obviously, Halley The Destroyer. Over time you became fixated on The Destroyer, this human cyborg gladiator from Mythical Earth, a cloned barbarian princess who was completely badass and cool. You were awestruck by her, enraptured, smitten, and increasingly obsessed. You only wanted to watch her fight, only thought about her, only fantasized about her. But why exactly? Was it because The Destroyer had forged herself out of nothing? That she was strong and brave and independent? That she was free? Or maybe you saw The Destroyer as a valiant knight come to save you from the unfair expectations of your father? A childish fable of maidens and heroes and forever love. Or maybe you just found violence sexually exciting? That the danger gave you a thrill that made you hot inside, that made your heart race, that made you horny. Was this all just an idiotic infatuation? You sighed, what did it even matter the reason why? It doesn’t change how you feel.


The Destroyer was about to fight in The Arena and everyone was leaving to watch. You fidget and wish you could join them; you desperately missed seeing The Destroyer fight, but you knew you couldn’t go. Your time as an Arena spectator was in the past, you would stay here locked in this cage, day in and day out, until The Destroyer released you or until you gave in. You refuse to break, even if though it means missing your heroine in action.

You overheard that The Destroyer would fight The Quicksilver in a knife duel. You can picture Sssandisss, a tall but lean Reptilian Female, a House Outcast, a fugitive who earned her continued freedom from being too deadly to punish. She had fled to Flotsam and sold her lethal skill to The Arena and earned a bloody reputation for speed and cunning and cruelty. They say she used a cocktail of drugs that gave her uncanny reflexes and immunity to pain, but which were slowly killing her. They say she had her scales plucked out one by one and replaced with armored replicas. They say she ate the hearts of her defeated opponents. They say she was the deadliest knife fighter to ever duel. She was really cool! You are thrilled your Champion is going against The Quicksilver! You think The Destroyer will socket herself into an organoform prosthetic, one that mimics living muscles and bone and is powered by a vulnerable hydraulic circulatory system. This configuration was probably still stronger and better able to shrug off damage than Sssandisss, but would make The Destroyer slower and vulnerable to knife wounds. It would be a fair fight.

If you close your eyes you can easily imagine the fight. You’ve seen The Quicksilver duel dozens of times, and The Destroyer fight hundreds, and you let your familiarity sketch a scene. The Quicksilver would try to always stay one step ahead, circle and maintain space, but then suddenly dart in, try and slither through The Destroyer’s guard, score a hit and quickly retreat. She would try to wear down The Destroyer with small cuts, wait until her opponent made a mistake, then exploit it for a killing blow. The Destroyer would attack in a straight line, press and press and press, try to knock the quicker Reptilian off balance, accept all the little wounds as the cost of the initiative. Trust that aggression would keep her safe. Maybe The Destroyer would land a few solid blows, quickly gain the upper hand, but maybe she would end up playing into Sssandisss’ game, begin to grow desperate as her vulnerable prosthetic body was whittled apart. Fearing a slow loss, The Destroyer would muster herself, feint, and recklessly attack! 

A total assault!

Suddenly! All out! 

But The Quicksilver would be ready! 

Would’ve been waiting, even.

Sssandisss would pounce, execute a deadly thrust too lightning quick to block! 

She’d feel victory in her cold Reptilian heart! 

But then she’d feel a horrible flash of pain and a confusing gout of wet as The Destroyer hacked out her throat. Because of course the Destroyer’s attack was a feint! The entire fight was! All a careful act designed to draw Sssandiss into attempting a killing thrust, a moment of vulnerability that The Destroyer could anticipate and counter, a chance to land her own definitive blow. It would work brilliantly! The Destroyer would stand victorious, clutching the terrible wound she accepted to win, while The Quicksilver collapsed to the sand hemorrhaging from her neck. The Arena would erupt in cheers and applause! The crowd would go wild! Spectacular! Awesome! Fucking amazing!

You were sorry you missed it.


The victory celebration is as wild as ever! The Chamber is festive and loud and packed with fucked up sapients. There are giddy Deviants and wealthy humans and Reptilian Gangsters. You calmly survey the room: Lion crouches over Tiger licking her pussy with his rough tongue, the Manager quietly confers with Krait, a terrifying human gangster with midnight blue scales, Monk is off in their workshop doing drugs and fucking groupies, Aggronotham The Strongest sings a raunchy ballad while a strangely bovine Blue clings to him, A42-XL The Machine shudders in a corner while its mind processes a potent psychedelic algorithm, a fat Arena Marshal gets his dick sucked by a ravishing intern, the Archer-Acrobats are back, looking shy and awkward, blushing and avoiding each other's eyes, but holding hands and sitting too close together, girls and boys and robots laugh and flirt, two burly Blues arm wrestle, their tattooed arms bulging with strain, Sssandiss The Quicksilver makes an appearance wearing a thick restorative brace around her neck, Sssaka hovers about like a fussy mother, and The Destroyer lounges amongst it all, arm wrapped around a lithe little Reptilian female with the most glorious breeding plumage.

You sigh and remember your first trip to The Destroyer’s Chamber. It was a night like this one, a bawdy celebration after The Destroyer bested Gnurgrrar The Terrible in a titanic clash, the armored Moon Ogre against the cyborg in a towering BattleMech. You’d gone to watch the fight, snuck in really, but been spotted by Javiannd, the lame son of your father’s associate. You panicked a little, worried that Javiannd would rat you out, but instead he’d puffed himself up and asked if you maybe wanted to meet The Destroyer. You squealed, actually squealed, and maybe jumped up and down a little, and said of course, fuck yeah! Javiannd looked very smug, probably thought this was his chance to impress a chick, and led you down a series of now familiar stone corridors to The Destroyer’s Chamber door. They were greeted by the stony face of Sssaka, but Javiannd mumbled about some sapient named Pit, which somehow got you inside. You had frozen, had gasped, you were here! Inside The Destroyer’s Chamber! Holy shit! Your heart was flailing in your chest and you wanted to dance and scream, but you tried to play it cool. Look like you belonged there. But that was Sssaka! The Champion turned mentor! And there was Monk, the rebel genius! And Brick The Deviant! And Lagertha The Untamed! And Chrgthmrggddr The Unpronouncable! So many Champions in one room! And! Fucking fuck! Oh your blessed fucking ancestors! 

Halley The Destroyer! Right here! 

In the flesh! 

So to speak.

You had gone completely still, paralyzed with nerves and glee and too many emotions! Your face was doing something weird and you had tears in her eyes. Here was you hero! Right in front of you! You wanted to scream but couldn’t make a sound bigger than an excited wheeze. Poor Javiannd tugged at your hand, tried to steer you off to whoever Pitt was, but you were rooted in place. You only wanted to meet The Destroyer! Fuck Javiannd! Nothing else mattered! You urgently wiggled free of him and rushed towards the Destroyer, who was sitting in a big hot tub filled with pretty girls. 

Halley The Destroyer looked up at you and you froze. Your mind screamed Ahhhhhhh! This was closer to your hero than you’d ever been! Close enough to touch! The Destroyer’s face was so much stronger in person, sharper and rougher, and her violet eyes so much more intense and piercing and beautiful! She seemed at once larger and smaller, more concentrated, the epic somehow squeezed into a mortal body. This was the first time you had seen The Destroyer’s petite white prosthetic and you ogled its slim contours and small high breasts. She was too real! Ahhhhh! The Destroyer studied you carefully, her face giving nothing away. You felt your stomach tumble like it was full of gladiators and your tongue was suddenly idiotic and enormous. Halley The Destroyer frowned, “Can I help you?”



You heard a giggle and saw everyone in the hot tub was staring at you. Six pairs of eyes belong to gorgeous naked girls, each one with hair and skin somehow dyed a different color. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple; a rainbow of babes cringing for you. The seventh pair belonged to a beautiful woman with curly horns and silver hair and three perfect tits squeezed into a halter top swimsuit. The horned lady smiled warmly, “C’mon honey, you can do it.”

You opened and closed your mouth, made fists, looked back at Halley The Destroyer. “I’m just! Your! Biggest! Fan!” 

“Gee,” The Destroyer said, “Thanks.”

“Halley…” The horned lady scolded and swatted The Destroyer with her long thin tail, “Be nice!”

“Fine…” The Destroyer plastered a smile on her scarred face. “It means so much to be your Champion and it’s always great to meet a fan.” She made a fist with her tiny white hand, “Always keep fighting!”

The horned lady rolled her eyes, “It was lovely to meet you!”

And suddenly there was a gentle hand on your shoulder and Sssaka was leading you away from the hot tub and toward the exit. He handed you a photo of The Destroyer haphazardly signed HALLEY in marker and gently shoved you out the door. “ThankSss for viSssiting,” he hissed pleasantly, and then locked you out. 

You had collapsed against the wall, stunned. You were giddy and exhilarated from meeting your idol, but you felt so fucking dumb too! Why had you sounded like such an idiotic fangirl? Why couldn’t you have said something cool or suave? Said something smart and technical about a fight, shown you were a connoisseur and not some love struck girly? And why hadn’t you been invited into the hot tub? You were cute, weren’t you? Sexy? You would make a great groupie! You blushed and rubbed at your burning eyes. It was so unfair! You finally met The Destroyer and it hadn’t gone right at all! You’d just blown your one chance! You clutched the autograph to your chest, tucked your legs up, and sat pressed against the rough stone just outside the door.

You stayed when Javiannd had come to find you and stayed when he’d stormed off.

You stayed as sapients left the party by the ones or twos or threes.

You stayed after it was quiet and the rainbow groupies radiantly departed.

You stayed hours later when the woman with the horns emerged with messy hair bite and marks on her neck. The woman saw you and stopped, gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze, and trotted away on dainty hooves. “Good luck,” she’d whispered.

You stayed all night, cold and unhappy, but not willing to leave.

You stayed until morning when the door opened and Halley The Destroyer looked down at her. She blinked sleepy eyes, “You’re the fan from last night?”

You nodded, not daring to speak.

“And you stayed here all night?”

Another nod.

“You’re a stubborn one aren’t you?” The Destroyer said, truly focusing on you completely for the first time. 

You nodded again, mouth set in a line.

“Well, why don’t we find out exactly how stubborn you are?” 

The Destroyer smiled with an edge.

“Sssaka fetch the cage.”


You watch the party wind down. The female Reptilian with the beautiful feathers does a seductive dance and disappears with The Destroyer for a time, but eventually leaves in the company of Krait. Monk drags a half comatose A42-XL into their workshop for a reboot or repairs or sex, you have no idea. Aggronotham and the oddly busty Blue publicly fuck, and then leave together, probably to fuck some more. The Acrobat-Archers get very high and makeout and disappear together, secretively, furtively. The Manager punches out an uppity young prostitute and calls it a night. The hangers on and the groupies, the Champions and their entourages, the sponsors and the guests, all slowly filter away to homes or other smaller parties, until finally it is just The Destoryer and you left in the Chamber. 

The entrance chimes and there is suddenly one more: a tall muscular Nordic woman with her four arms crossed over her generous chest. “Hail Eleventh!”

“Steadfast…” The Destroyer says quietly.

“It hath been far too long, Halley.”

“A lifetime.”

You look at this newcomer, this towering woman. She's taller than you, easily the tallest person in the room, and stands with an almost jovial confidence, as if nothing on Flotsam could touch her. She's wearing a skintight purple tunic with a plunging neckline and cutout for her lower cleavage and black tights that show off her powerful legs and flanks. Her long ash blonde hair is netted up around her head in a complicated braid like a crown. The woman’s bare shoulders are carved from bulky muscle and her four forearms are tight with sinew. The woman looks around the empty room with bright sapphire blue eyes and smiles playfully.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” The Destroyer asks, her voice shockingly nervous.

“I witnessed your victory today,” Steadfast says huskily while removing her tunic. “It made me yearn for your touch.”


“Tut-tut,” Freya says dropping her tunic to the floor. Her shoulders ripple with muscle and her four tits hang proudly, bobbing aggressively with every step closer. “Do not mistake my intentions, fair Eleventh, this is a challenge! A duel!” She touches her Keyband and her integrated trousers and boots go slack, letting her neatly step free of them. She stands naked and stretches out her big arms “I have come to defeat you and then bed you.” She cracks multiple knuckles, “In that order.”

“Jesus…” Halley The Destroyer says in a voice like a gasp. 

“Do you surrender so easily? Have you become a coward?”

The Destroyer grins and stands, bites her lip in delight. Her white prosthetic body starts to expand, gaining height and muscle mass, growing to match the Nordic woman in stature. Her pert breasts swell and a second pair of tits emerge from her lower chest. She grunts and two lumps sprout from her sides and grow into a second pair of thick muscular arms. The Destroyer spreads her legs and a heavy cock and balls form on her crotch. She flexes her suddenly beefy body and cracks her own multiple knuckles, “Oh you are so fucked.”

Freya ogles her and smiles, “An auspicious oath…”

The two women charge each other, lock their four hands and shove, bare feet digging at the floor for grip, a test of strength. The two strain and grunt, but neither moves more than a few inches either way. The girl in the cage has seen The Destroyer’s petite prosthetic body move with uncanny speed and perform feats of impossible strength, so she’s clearly governing her body for a fair fight. The Destroyer growls around a grin and heaves, but Freya rolls with it, dropping onto her back and flipping The Destroyer over her tumbling body in a throw. The Destroyer whoops and tumbles, rolls back to her feet and turns to face a smiling Freya. “What is that Earthling saying? Old lay?”

Halley The Destroyer laughs and smiles mischievously. She paws at the ground with a foot and throws two of her hands up beside her head like horns, makes a noise like a bellow. She charges and the two women lock together again, cheek to cheek, foreheads on shoulders, four arms involved in a complicated grapple. The two hulking muscular women push and circle, try and break arms free, try to unbalance each other, bump into a table and knock over a chair. The Destroyer drops back a big step and yanks downward, suddenly, violently, and Freya is tugged forward, nearly unbalanced, forced to pull up with all her strength to keep her feet. The Destroyer lunges immediately forward, backing off Freya and making her dance to stay upright. Then Halley The Destroyer drops and yanks again and Freya is already pulling back, but The Destroyer lets her go, drops and tackles Freya by the hips, one pair of arms wrapping each of Freya’s legs, lifting and twisting and dropping Freya to the ground flat on her back. The Destroyer has Freya by the thighs and is using her body to hold Freya down, but Freya laughs and wraps Halley with her legs, pulls her closer, grabs her head in her four hands and shoves The Destroyer’s face into her pussy. Halley let’s go of Freya’s legs, tries to push herself free, but The Destroyer has her bound in a viselike thigh grip, and grinds her cunt into Halley’s face. The Destroyer’s prosthetic cock is rock hard and she stops fighting and starts to kiss Freya’s vulva. Freya moans and writhes, brings three of her arms up to play with her tits, but also works her legs between The Destroyer’s arms and suddenly twists, cork-screwing her body with her arms and back, rolling herself on top of Halley so that she’s kneeling on Halley’s face with her cunt still pressed to her lips. “Hah!” Freya laughs, humping The Destroyer’s face and fondling her own tits. Halley sputters and kicks her legs, fighting to get free, so Freya spins her body around and leans forward to pin down The Destroyer’s legs while still rubbing her cunt on Halley’s face. Freya licks her lips and bows her head, gently runs her tongue along the length of The Destroyer’s achingly hard prosthetic cock. “Ohhhh….” Halley gasps as Freya wraps her mouth around her cock and starts to suck. Halley starts to hungrily eat Freya’s cunt and raises her four hands to caress and knead Freya’s four hanging breasts. “Dothth thoo thurpfhrendurph?” Freya mumbles with a mouth full of cock.

“Never!” Halley The Destroyer growls. She pinches all four of Freya’s nipples and twists. Freya yelps and rolls off The Destroyer and clutches her suddenly painful tits. She guffaws, “Fucking hellfire you fiend!”

The Destroyer does a kick up to her feet and wipes pussy juice off her lips. “I thought you liked it rough?”

Freya smiles and raises her four hands defensively and moves cautiously toward The Destroyer. Halley effects a similar pose and the two circle, stepping around and over furniture, hands bobbing, watching for a misstep or opening. Halley The Destroyer steps on a discarded bottle, stumbles, momentarily unbalanced, and Freya swoops in to grab a leg, but Halley senses it and jumps up and back, kicking her legs out of danger and riding Freya to the floor. Freya grunts and catches herself with two hands, and pushes herself to her knees, but The Destroyer spins around her and establishes herself behind Freya, chest on her back, crotch to her ass, cock pressed between them, in control. Freya tries to stand, but Halley pushes her down, jams her top arms through Freya's and clutches her neck, pinning Freya’s top arms uselessly and holding her down. Freya tries to use her lower arms for leverage, but Halley manages to entangle then one by one and pin them back like little wings. Freya is crushed facedown to the floor, and Halley humps her, rubbing her cock in the cleavage of Freya’s ass. “You should surrender,” Halley gasps while thrusting her hips, “let me fuck you already…”

“Never!” Freya growls while forcing her legs under her body. She grits her teeth and strains, pushing with all her might, lifting herself slowly, haltingly, back to her feet with Halley still draped on her back. The two stumble like drunk dancers, Freya trying to free her arms, Halley clutching her tightly, chest pressed to her back, arms locked together. Freya growls and rubs her plush and muscular ass against The Destroyers erection. Halley’s eyes lid in pleasure and she let’s go of Freya’s bottom arms, brings her lower hands up to cup and squeeze Freya’s tits. Freya gasps and reaches down, pushes Halley’s cock between her legs so that its trapped in the hot wet embrace of her thighs and vulva. Halley The Destroyer humps while Freya The Steadfast rocks her hips, the two giant women growling and panting, grappling and dry fucking. Halley whines and releases her lock on Halley’s top arms, let’s her hands slide down to clutch all four of Freya’s breasts. Freya tilts her head back in pleasure, then rams her hips straight back into The Destroyer’s gut and jumps free, scrambles away from Halley, and vaults over a couch. “Old lay!”

Halley stands growling in frustration, four hands opening and closing, her achingly hard cock shiny with pussy. She grins, “You bitch.”

“Come forth and get it.” Freya settles into a combat stance and raises her hands defensively.

The Destroyer whoops and charges, bounds onto the couch, four big breasts flopping, and launches herself at Freya in a flying tackle. Freya catches her, but stumbles, knocks over a table scattering cups and drugs, and falls down, dropping both combatants into a tangle on the floor. Freya clutches her belly and gasps for breath, winded, and Halley rolls Freya onto her back and climbs on top of her. Freya grunts and struggles, but Halley shoves her shoulders down with two arms and spreads Freya’s legs with her other pair. Freya moans and Halley pushes her girthy prosthetic cock into her, inch by pale white inch. “Honored ancestors….” Freya curses breathlessly. 

“Surrender?” Halley The Destroyer gasps as she starts to slowly fuck Freya, continuing to pin down the Nordic woman. Freya braces herself with a pair of elbows, thrusts back against Halley, holds The Destroyer tight against her body, smashes their eight breasts together. She bites Halley passionately on the lips. “Never…”

Halley growls, thrusting harder in powerful bursts that make Freya exhale like body blows. She smiles showing her teeth, “You… can’t…win…”

Freya’s head is tipped all the way back, her eyes are closed and her mouth hangs open, “Ahhhh….”

“Submit!” Halley grunts, making her cock grow even larger. 

Freya winces in pleasure, shudders, writhes. She is powerless against the pounding force of Halley’s thrusts, gobsmacked by the feeling of The Destroyer’s cock expanding inside her cunt, stretching her more and more and more. She was losing herself. “Fuck….”


“No!” Freya’s eyes go wide and her muscular body flexes, every sinew going taut with strength, and, just, barely, forces the pair to roll over, still locked together at the hips, so that she is perched on top of Halley, riding her, fucking her, in control. Freya grabs her four tits, rolls her hips and bucks, fast and hard, frantically. Halley kneads her own breasts and grabs Freya by the hips, steadying her, stopping them from coming apart. Freya grinds violently against Halley, who moans and thrusts back up against Freya, their chiseled thighs and abdomens rippling with effort, both women panting and growling, faces grimacing in ecstasy and focus. Halley lets out a deep groan and thrusts, body going tight as she comes. Freya arches her back, crushes her tits, screams out in orgasmic joy: “VICTORY!!!”

The two collapse together, a relaxed pile of panting muscle. Halley The Destroyer snerks, “You can’t be serious?”

“I came on top.”

“I had you pinned!”

Freya runs a finger down the long scar on Halley’s face. “Perhaps it was a draw then.”


You wake from your doze to see Freya slip back into her clothes and creep away from the couch where The Destroyer slumbers. She sees you watching and smiles, makes a sign for silence, and moves stealthily towards the exit. You don’t really know this Freya The Steadfast, have never seen her fight in The Arena, but she carries herself with the confidence and powerful grace of a true warrior. Also she’s built like an absolute fucking mountain. She must be another gladiator, or maybe some sort of soldier. You feel the familiar pang of jealousy: what does this Freya have that you don’t? Would The Destroyer wrestle and fuck you if you were a warrior? What if you left this cage tonight and dedicated yourself to The Arena?  Could you train and Shape and engineer yourself into something strong? Something deadly? The Destroyer had started as the pathetic clone of an Earthling girl, so it must be possible. Maybe you could leave here and return a Champion? You try to imagine yourself in combat, armed and armored, down in the Circle of The Arena, standing across the white sand from Halley The Destroyer, there to defeat your idol in battle and later to fuck her brains out. As Freya reaches the exit, she stops and gives you a Nordic Warrior Salute before disappearing into the night.

As soon as the entry door whispers shut Halley The Destroyer opens her eyes and sits up. You watch as she deflates her prosthetic body, its muscular proportions and extra limbs shrinking back into its slender white porcelain default. She grabs her skull, twists and lifts, and unsockets her head and neck from her body. Halley holds herself, turns her face to look back at her headless prosthetic, seemingly taking stock of herself, and then she cradles her head in her lap. You study her face and she looks solemn, not sad or disappointed, but lonely maybe. You look around the Chamber and it’s only you and her in the darkened space, and The Destroyer hardly knows you’re there. You think about all the sapients who surround The Destroyer during the day: her fans and sycophants, her business partners and associates, the other gladiators and Champions, Monk and Sssaka, her many lovers, and yet here she is alone but for a living decoration. You grip the bars of your cage and rest your forehead against the rough metal, you would go to her if you could, sweep her up in your arms and hold her. Care for her. Be the comfort and devotion The Destroyer deserves. 

You sigh, what would it take for you to become her caregiver? A formal application? A quiet word with Sssaka? Or maybe something more radical? You imagine seeking out The Destroyer’s beautiful horned friend, The Shaper, and begging her to make you into a gift for Halley The Destroyer. To remake you into a body for her, a headless flesh and blood prosthetic that Halley could insert her head into. A body for her to wear that would be soft and warm and could move itself, that could nurture Halley and give her intimacy and humanity and love. A body that would always be there for her at the end of the day. You shiver, you would sacrifice your humanity to be her body. You want this.

The Destroyer’s prosthetic fondly strokes her decapitated head and then carefully reattaches it. She stands and stretches her neck, looks around and notices you. Her eyes widen and then she smiles, “You’re still here.”

You heart hammers in your chest and you lick your dry and clumsy lips. “Yes.” Always.

The Destroyer strokes the long scar on her face, “Incredible.” She takes a few steps and stops, rests a hand on a slim white hip. “And I guess you'll be back tomorrow too?”

“Of course.” Everyday, forever.