”And what do we have here?”
“Mutie. It’s a mutie. Scans show implants. This fucker has already been on duty. We better take it back with us.”
“Wait… What kind of implants? Should we collar it?”
“Yeah. We better. Nasty looking blades in its hands. Got to be a healer to be able to use those. Give it to me… Okay. All good to go.”


“…Week before we get there. Better stock up some supplies…”


“Don’t fuck with me! You’re not serious!”
“Sure I am! Was ready to go down…”


“How’s the cargo?”
“Just fine. Remember that deserter we found? Seems to be faring much better than the rest of those animals…”
“…Was sick like a dog for couple of days. Wonder if it had eaten something wrong…”


“Fucking sedate it! Sedate it! Fast! Oww… My fucking hand! Look at my fucking hand!”
“I told you not to go too close. Just ‘cause it’s collared doesn’t mean it can’t use those claws… I fucking hate this shit. Come on, give me the keys.”
“What!”
“Give me the keys. We have to let it heal. Can’t kill Army property. Remember Marty? What happened when he shot that mutie?”
“Yeah, yeah… Just be careful.”


“Look, buddy. I’m going to open that collar for a second.”
“Rrrr…”
“Christ! Cut it out! I’ll have to open it; you’ll bleed to death. There.”
“Grr…”
“Stop that. I’m not going to touch you. See? Your hands are getting better already. Here. I just put this back on and… Jesus!”
“Rrrr…”
“Fucking beast nearly bit my fingers off!”
“That’s it! I’m not going to get killed just because…”
“Put it down! Nobody’s going to get killed! Tomorrow night we will be sitting in the mess and we are going to get wasted! That was just a misunderstanding, right, buddy?”
“Grrr…”

Truck had stopped. Bumpy ride was over. He could hear familiar sounds of the camp around him. In a weird and twisted way they were soothing his nerves. He was home. This was where he belonged. The man was silent, beaten and hiding again. His head felt clearer than it had been in ages. Footsteps were approaching, then the tarp covering the cages was pulled off and he squinted his eyes against the brightness of the sun that greeted him. Man was standing next to his cage, talking to another man. Enthusiasm, greed and relief colored his scent.
“This has to be worth of extra! This one’s a deserter. Found it from the desert. First we thought it was dead, it has claws in its hands and it had rammed them right through its ribcage, but as soon as we got them out it started healing.”
“Healer with claws? Good. Take it to the shop. Guys can check it up and install the tag and chip.”

He was sure there was something he had forgotten, but it probably wasn’t that important. More important was to concentrate to not to scream when scalpel sliced his cheek open. He grit his teeth when they scraped the bone underneath clean. Momentarily scent of hot metal and burning flesh drowned all the other scents. Sharp jab of needle to his bicep made him cringe a bit, then it was over.
“Tagged and chipped. Ready for rehabilitation.”
“This went smoothly. Funny. According to Hunter’s log this guy gave them quite some trouble…”
“Wonder what they did to him? You’re no troublemaker, right, Wolverine?”
“You know it?”
“Just by reputation. One of the first Destroyers. Pretty clean record up until some incident over decade ago. Went missing after some fire. Nobody’s seen this guy ever since.”
“First destroyers? He’s about hundred years old?”
“Might be even older. But who the fuck cares. It’s not like these guys can get pension…”
“Right. Let’s go and grab some coffee before they bring in the next one.”

His cheek was itching, but he knew better not to scratch it. Skin was supposed to stay under the tag. They would have to cut it open again if he accidentally lifted half healed flap of it over the thin metal plate. Two Guards walked in and released his hands and legs from the restraints, ordering him to stand up. He sat up and let his feet slide to the floor, slowly. Guards reeked of nervousness and fear. Not a good combination. He cleared his throat.
“I won’t cause any troubles.”
“Yeah. Tell that to somebody who cares. And keep your fucking trap shut,” younger of the Guards huffed, poking him to a right direction with his rifle.
“We’re supposed to take it to the warehouse. A Mech is waiting in there.”
“Good. My shift’s over already. I’m so fucking tired of playing chaperone to these morons…”

He briefly wondered why Guards hadn’t shackled him, but shrugged it off. He really wasn’t in the mood to take the beating that would follow if he clawed them. Ride had been long and jarring. All he wanted to do was to sleep it off. He was sure there would be plenty of opportunities to vent out aggressions later. To teach some manners to these arrogant schmucks. They wouldn’t last a full minute in the field and they had the guts to order him around and speak to him as he was somehow retarded. Yeah. It would be good. But not before he had gotten his bearings and learned the ropes again. For some reason there seemed to be a sizeable gap in his memory.
“Get in there.”
“Hey, Gary! Got you another one.”
“Jesus! Like I didn’t have enough already. What? Am I suddenly the only Mech in this whole fucking Army!”
“Not our problem. Arrived today, but nothing’s new to this guy. It’s a deserter. Keep an eye on it.”
“What does it do?”
“Destroyer. Little outdated model if you ask from me. Retractable adamantium claws in its hands. Not much use in the field anymore. I guess that’s why they gave it to you.”

Outdated? He would fucking show that prick outdated next time he saw him. But not now. Mechanic. Old. Chubby. White hair. Glasses over his eyes. Curious bastard, getting so close to his face.
“Wolverine? Christ! They weren’t kidding. You’re ancient. Older than me. I know, I know… Not exactly a compliment, but it’s the truth. What’s your status?” Mechanic asked. He tilted his head.
“Go on. I’m sure you are able to speak,” Gary urged.
“Healer. I heal. And I have enhanced senses.”
“Are you a nut job?” Gary asked. Again he tilted his head, furrowing his brow. What the fuck was the Mech talking about?
“I have noticed you guys perform much better if I keep the collar off all the time. But before I take it off I want to know if you’re planning to go berserk and cut up half of the team.”
“You can take it off. I’m too fucking tired to do anything else than sleep.”
“What about after you have slept? Will you be different?” Gary asked. Well, he felt like nice enough guy.
“I don’t have a clue.”
“Okay. I leave it on for now. See how it goes.”

Gary led him to his quarters.
“As you can see, I already have my hands full… And that’s where you step in to the picture,” he said pointing at a group of hunters that were lounging in the corner, chained together but free from the collar.
“We lost our Destroyer about a week ago. Some trigger-happy idiot… Well, you’re going to take his place. You’ll patrol with these guys at the outer perimeter of the camp. Two Guards will escort you, but I wouldn’t count too much on them if I were you. It’s up to you to see that these morons behave. Think you’re up to it?” Gary asked. And now he was sure there was something very, very wrong. He was a fucking Destroyer. Not a babysitter. And certainly not something to be trusted. But what the heck. He could do it. He could play for a while and see how things were handled in here. He nodded.
“You’re not much of a talker, are you?” Gary asked.
“Am I allowed to speak?”
“How long exactly have you been on the run?” Gary asked, wrinkling his forehead. He just shrugged. He hadn’t even been aware that he had been AWOL.
“Things have changed since you left, quite a bit. Of course there are still rules, written and whole shitload of things you just have to know. Just remember one thing. Don’t question. Do as you’re told to, and everything will go just fine.”

“You’ll sleep in here. Bathroom is over there,” Gary had said and left him to a small room. There was a bed in the corner with real linens and a quilt thrown over it. Bathroom was small, with a sink and a toilet seat. He had been expecting Gary to shackle him together with the Hunters. A bed? Things had really changed.

He walked in to bathroom and decided to clean off the accumulated dust before going to bed. No use to soil linens. Water from the tap was cold, but it was clean, and there hung a small towel on the wall next to the sink. He took it and soaked it in the water. Started wiping himself clean. Something, some stray shred of memory tickled in the back of his skull. Somewhere somebody had done this to him. Towel brushing over his skin. It had felt good, sand had gotten everywhere and cool water had felt heavenly on his sun burnt skin. He knew for a fact that it was something that belonged to him, not to the man, since remembering it didn’t hurt.

He had to dunk his head to the sink to be able to wash his hair. It was a bit awkward, his instincts were screaming him to get up and watch his back, but he grit his teeth and forced himself to stay down long enough. Another towel, bigger and dry hang on the wall opposite the sink. He took it and dried off before returning to the other room. Eyed the bed warily. He had been planning to sleep on it, but now he started to have doubts. What the hell Gary was up to? Treating him like a person. Giving him all kinds of space and privileges. Well. He would learn soon. Man had been dabbling with Hunters too long. He would learn to deal with Destroyer soon enough.

Brown eyes stared at him from under a mass of shiny and long brown locks. There was no fear in those eyes. There was no fear in the way delicate hands were caressing his body, traveling over taut muscles. No fear. Instead of it there was a fire, matching with the one burning inside of him.
“Logan…”

He woke up abruptly, whisper of the dream still echoing in his head. Logan. She had called him Logan. Fortunately the man was as good as gone now. Memories still lingered, but they would fade in time. Door opening made him sit up, every nerve bristling and alert.
“You’re awake. Good. Here, I brought you some clothes. Put them on. Breakfast is ready. Your shift starts within half an hour,” Gary said, tossing him a bundle of black cloth and placing boots and small bag near the door before retreating and leaving him again to his own devices.

Uniform was made out of black denim, not much more than an overall with pockets sewn to chest and thighs. Boots were sturdy, black leather with surprisingly soft rubber soles. From the bag he found a belt, gloves and a vest made out of Kevlar.

“You better put it on. I’m not going to remove that collar of yours before I know weather I can trust you or not…” Gary said when he walked in the kitchen, dangling the vest in his hands like it was the worst insult he had faced in his life. He slipped the vest on, grimacing when he realized how much it would restrain his movements. He felt like a fucking tortoise.

There were four of them. Four dog-like creatures. Gary had given their leash to him and patted him on the back for good luck before he had walked off with two Guards. Guards kept their distance, Hunters were growling and yanking their chains and he felt like growling back to them. Instead he yanked the leash hard enough to send Hunters stumbling on their backs with startled yelps. As soon as they got back on their feet, they resumed pulling, squabbling and growling again. He had to agree with Gary. Morons.

Scorching hot sun was blazing from clear sky, slight breeze made sand pool to miniature dunes. On the left side of him he could see the camp, buzzing and swirling with life. On the right side open desert, kilometer after kilometer sand.
“What am I supposed to do?” He asked. Attack against the camp didn’t seem likely from any direction.
“We’ll catch anybody who tries to escape. Most of you dimwits understand to stay put, but there’s always few who are willing to try their luck in the desert,” Guard answered. Okay. He could do that.

Sand got everywhere. Straps of the vest were chafing, he could feel it grinding inside of his boots and rattling between his teeth. Weather was hot enough to put even Hunters down. They were slouching lazily around him. Guards looked uncomfortable in their red uniforms. They were sweating and panting.

“Over there. Go and get it. We’ll wait in here,” Guards said, sitting to the meager shadow perimeter fence offered and pointed towards a small figure far on the desert. Footprints lead from the fence to that direction.
“Oh, and in case you get some ideas… That collar of yours is filled with explosives. If it looks like you’re not planning to return, we will stop you,” Guard warned him, patting a small remote control hanging from his belt.

Hunters were alert now, tugging their chains and howling. He held the leash tight and walked. No use to run. Figure wasn’t moving anymore. He could see small drops of blood on the sand mingling with footprints. Wounded. When he got closer he could see green uniform of a Breeder, tainted with blood from the waist down. Hunters were going berserk; howling and snapping their jaws, drool dribbling in long, sticky strands from their jaws.

“No… Not anymore…” Breeder was sobbing when she heard them approaching. He took in her appearance. Beaten. Raped. Hunters were poking her with their snouts, growling and whining. Not biting. They wouldn’t bite unless he told them to.
“Lets get you back home…” He grabbed the back of her uniform and started dragging her back to the camp, over the sand. Things had really changed when somebody had the guts to lay a hand on a breeder. Back in his remembered time actions like that were punishable. Depending on how badly the Breeder was treated punishment varied from beating to death.
“I don’t want to go back…”
“Shut up. Nobody asked your opinion.”

Days blended together. Same patrol route. Same guards. Same duties day after day. Hunters had long ago learned not to aggravate him. He had taken the leader of their small pack and beaten it to a pulp in front of the rest of them. Gary had frowned and scolded him, but he had understood. New hunter had been assigned to replace the one he had killed.

Apart from his slight slip up with the Hunter he had kept quiet. Obeyed orders and kept away from trouble. He had been rewarded for the restraint he had shown when Gary had taken off the collar one morning, reminding him that he could as easily put it back if it was needed. He had discarded the Kevlar vest with a relieved groan, stretching his shoulders and cracking his neck. Hunters had perked their ears and snouts, taking in the slight change in his scent and posture. He hadn’t needed the leash to control them ever since.

All in all, he had settled in pretty good, when the call came.

“You’ll leave in the morning. Shit. As soon as I get one trained…” Gary had cursed, stripping off tag that identified him as a perimeter guard from the breast pocket of his uniform.
“They are getting desperate. Throw someone like you on the field. Fucking slaughter, that’s what’s waiting for you. Just remember to keep your head down,” he had advised. Wolverine had smirked. Slaughter was his game. The game he played the best.

He wasn’t smirking anymore. Things had changed on the field as well. Long-range fire had replaced hand-to-hand combat almost completely. Instead of vulnerable mutants enemy drove tireless machines on the field. For the first time tide had changed, in favor for the enemy.

He lay in the corner of the bunker, staring at the flickering fluorescent lights above him. Dog-tired and cold. Soaked to the bone. Summer had come; bringing chilling rain that turned the terrain from rocky sand to a slippery mud. Shredded makeshift uniform he wore now was caked with dried blood and other grit and grime. He had slept last time nearly a week ago, and it was hard to let go of the tension and close his eyes. To trust his hide to the hands of the others. Even smallest of the sounds was enough to jolt him wide-awake, every nerve humming and aching muscles rippling, ready to bolt. Hunger gnawed in his stomach, but he couldn’t bring himself to calm down enough to actually eat something.

“Stay the fuck down and sleep. You’re no good to us if you don’t rest every once in a while.” Guard rumbled from the doorway when he shifted, turning on his side and from there to his hands and knees.
“Can’t sleep. Too wired to do that.”
“Tough luck. You got six hours. Try to get some shut-eye.”

After tossing and turning for what felt like eternity he stood up, eyeing the concrete wall of the bunker. It could work. Hoped it would work and raced against it, face first. Sickening metallic thud rang in his head before blessed darkness claimed him.

He came back to his senses. Somebody was shouting and shaking him.
“Get the fuck up!” Guard. Shouting and jostling him up. Destroyers were clearing from the bunker. Steady stream of mutants, different sizes and shapes running out from the doorway.
“We’re under attack. Perimeter’s breached. Go!” Hard slap to his back sent him stumbling after the others. Blood was still slowly dribbling from the wound on his forehead. He hadn’t been out long, couple minutes at most.

Base was a mess. Ground slippery from mud and blood. He staggered carefully over fallen Destroyer and slipped to a steaming pile of innards, landing on his back. In a flash there was an enemy unit towering over him. Dressed in white, driving a sharp metal pole through his gut. He kicked blindly and heard the satisfactory crunch when its knees gave up and it fell screaming. He yanked the rod out. Claws finished writhing and screaming unit lying next to him and he stood up, eyes scanning his surroundings, searching the next prey. He spotted it, growled and turned towards it. World around him blew apart and he was flying through the air. Ground caught him with a bone-jarring thud and he dove to darkness once more.

He woke up from a pile of corpses. Again. One could think the series of number in his tag that identified him as a healer would prevent this from happening. When he could feel first trickle of acid on his skin he let out a hoarse scream.
“Fuck, that one’s alive!”
“Well, get it up from there! We have to get this finished!” He opened his eyes. At least this time he had ended up on top of the pile. Somebody was approaching, sliding down the slippery slope of the mass grave carefully. A Guard.
“Wolverine? The fuck you are doing in here?” He recognized the Guard. Guy was guarding the bunker he was assigned to.
“Don’t know…”
“Shit. You’re a mess. Come on. I call a Mech to check you up…”

“I’ll arrange a transfer. I’m tired of this shit. Okay, Wolverine heals, but it isn’t much of use to us when ninety-nine percent of the time it’s dead to the world. Don’t know what they were thinking, sending it here… Healing alone isn’t any good, but mixed with something ranged…”
“You lucky bastard. You’ll get sent to a breeding center!” Guard said, smiling widely and slapping his thigh when Mechanic left the bunker, muttering about all kinds of idiots in the dispatch center.

A Breeder. A fucking Breeder. They had made him take off his clothes and given him thorough physical exam. They had gotten rid of lice and vermin that had once more overrun his body. They had vaccinated him, not really necessary procedure considering his mutation. They had pumped him full of hormones, and given him a green uniform and pushed him in to a large hall filled with other mutants wearing similar attire. And now they expected him to participate to the huge orgy that was going on everywhere he laid his eyes.

He wandered around, eyeing the other breeders, trying to block out scents and sounds. Not many of them carried a tag. He spotted only few of those, both males. Not many of them wore clothes. Most of the others had discarded their uniforms and were simply copulating like crazed animals with everything at the striking distance. Sight and sound of it made him sick, but at the same time he could feel the first stirrings of an arousal. Hand latched to his ankle and he stopped, staring with morbid fascination the owner of that hand. Male Breeder, getting fucked by another male while fucking a female.

By the end of the day when Guards walked in to separate groups that had formed so that they could herd everybody to their rightful places he was sitting in a corner, hands curled around his knees and face hidden in his palms. He had tried. For countless of times he had tried to straddle a willing female, but every time ghost of a memory, image of long brown hair streaked with white and brown eyes had stopped him.

“We’ll give it a day or two. If it doesn’t work, we’ll just have to milk it…” He heard a Mech mutter to another. They stood in front of his cell, both staring at him.
“We could give it another shot of ‘lust juice’…” Mech proposed. Other one shook his head.
“We already gave more than the usual. I don’t want it to flip out. I want new genes, not a massacre. This one’s aggressive enough already. You saw how hard it tried earlier. What ever it is that it’s stopping it, it’ll get over it…”

Scent of arousal wafting thick in the air made him pace back and forth. Every once in awhile he had to stop and rub himself to relieve the tension that had settled to the pit of his stomach. Scent made him react, but it was all wrong. It wasn’t what he wanted. It wasn’t what he needed. He knew tomorrow would be the same as today had been. He wouldn’t be able to go on and fuck any of those Breeders they expected him to impregnate. They didn’t belong to him. As much as he wanted the relief that sticking his cock to a warm slippery channel would have produced it wouldn’t have lasted long, because it was a wrong place to stick it. He didn’t have the slightest idea of what the right place would have been, but he was sure as hell that it wasn’t anywhere near this compound.

He lay on the floor whimpering. His lower abdomen hurt. His balls hurt. His cock hurt. His head hurt. He was burning up, grinding his erection against the cool concrete, tried to make it go away. He had discarded his uniform hours ago; it was too hot and chafed his skin. He was sweating like a fucking pig, and every drop of the salty liquid dripping from his skin was saturated with the stench of the artificial hormones they had pumped in him.

“Marie…” Whisper flowed from his lips. He clamped trembling palm over his treacherous mouth, rolling on his back. Images of a cascade of brown, silky hair flooded his mind. Scent of vanilla and peppermint replaced the stench of musk momentarily and his hand closed around his shaft. Few quick thrusts and he came, spilling his seed over his stomach and chest. For a moment he lay there, staring at the ceiling, then curled on his side and closed his eyes, drifting to a dreamless slumber.

Loud clatter of the metal bars woke him up. He rose from the floor, noticing with dread three Guards standing at the doorway. A Mech pushed his way in from behind them.
“Do you know why you are here?” Mech asked. He nodded.
“Do you have any explanation to your behavior?” In other words, why the hell he wasn’t fucking around as it was expected. He shrugged his shoulders. Mech sighed and produced several small syringes from the pocket of his lab coat. He backed away trembling. During few hours of sleep he had managed to get his healing factor had finally identified the problem and cleaned his system from that shit. He wasn’t going to go through that hell again.

“We can do this nicely, or…” Mech pointed at the Guards standing behind him. He backed against the wall and crouched slightly. Flick of his wrists brought the claws out. Mech let out a frustrated sigh. Nodded to the Guards who stepped forth. Instead of prodding him with tasers they pulled out a net and captured him with it, avoiding his attempts to claw them through it quite skillfully. He couldn’t cut the strings. It was made out of adamantium. Guards pinned him to the floor with the net and he could only lay there, spewing curses and squirming when Mech emptied syringe after syringe to his bicep. After it was over they retreated hastily from the cell and closed the door.
“We keep it locked up for now. Couple days and it should be horny enough to perform…” He could hear the Mech explain when the group disappeared from the doorway.

Few hours later they came back and shackled his hands behind his back.

“And you thought it would be a good idea to let it loose after that treatment? Where was your fucking brain?”

Scent of blood and other bodily fluids hung heavy in the air, making him shift and growl.

“I thought it would participate…”
“It did participate. Did you even read the file? It’s a Destroyer. Not some ordinary mutie from bumfuck. A Destroyer. More aggressive than our average unit. You’re lucky none of those females were pregnant already.”

He growled again. Female on his arms wasn’t squirming anymore.

“It fucked that one. The one it’s holding. And it’s still alive.”
“That’s not the point! It fucking slaughtered twenty females and ten males before that!”

Female on his arms let out a tiny whimper when he jostled her to a better position before sheathing his cock in to her once more.

“Well, at least it’s mating now. Take it back to its cell. Put the female in with it. Who knows, maybe they won’t kill each other…”
“And I thought we would have to knock that one up artificially. Guess Wolverine’s mutation is stronger than her skin.”

After grueling week cooped up in his cell without any means to relieve the tension in his body he had finally found it. The right place. Right female. His female. There had been so many units, trying to grope him and her, but he had taken care of them. He could tell the female was horrified and not a least bit willing, but he was past caring. She belonged to him. After he had taken her couple of times she had finally relaxed and stopped struggling. Now he sat in the corner of his cell, hands wrapped around her, nose buried to the side of her throat, breathing in the scent of vanilla and peppermint.

As soon as she came back to her senses she renewed her struggles, kicking, scratching and biting him. He let her vent out her aggressions for a while. She would tire soon. He could already feel his cock stiffen, but ignored it. Wasn’t time for that now. As soon as she slumped against him with a frustrated shriek he collected her to his arms and just held her against his chest. Against his heart.

“Be still. You’re going to carry my cubs. Don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured. Female started to cry.
“Logan… I miss you so much…” At the sound of the name he froze. She was calling the man.
“Shut up. He’s gone.” She cried even harder, but didn’t try to object. He slipped his hand between her thighs. She was still slippery and wet from his come. He turned her around and fucked her once more before curling around her body to sleep.

Sudden movement and growl woke her up. Wolverine’s weight disappeared from her back and she was able to crawl to a corner. A man wearing a white lab coat entered the cell, followed by three Guards.
“Calm down, Wolverine. I’ll just check her up…” Man was inching towards her, his back against the wall. Wolverine looked torn, stepping hesitantly between them, shielding her, but trying to stay out of the man’s way.
“I’ll just need a drop of her blood. We’re going to see if you’re going to become a proud papa…” Man said, kneeling next to Marie, keeping his eyes trained on now snarling Wolverine. She tried to curl as small as possible. She felt a needle prick her thigh, then man was retreating, eyes fixed to a small pen-like device on his hand.
“Not yet. Okay, Wolverine. You know the drill…” Man sighed, pulling five syringes from the pocket of his lab coat. Claws erupted from Wolverine’s hands, but his struggle was futile. Guards got him pinned.

“Don’t! Let me go! Let me go! I’ll do what you want! Let me go!” She peeked through her fingers. It wasn’t Wolverine anymore. Logan’s brown eyes locked with hers when man wearing the lab coat jabbed needle after needle to his arm.
“I’m so fucking sorry, kid…” Yellow tint started to creep in his eyes, blending with brown. Guards and the man in a lab coat left, locking the cell door.

“Don’t fight me. Just… Fuck… I’m sorry. I’m sorry…” Even when he was apologizing he started to crawl towards her on his hands and knees, huge erection jutting between his thighs.
“Logan?” She pushed against the wall, standing up slowly.
“Don’t fight me. Please. I don’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry, kid…”
“Logan, you don’t have to do this…”
“I’m sorry…” His hands latched to her knees and he yanked sharply, bringing her on the floor on her back.
“Logan, please!” She closed her eyes and prepared for the inevitable.
“I’ll try to be careful…”

She didn’t know which one was more awful; Logan’s constant pleas of forgiveness or the fact that her body started to respond to his clumsy caresses. When his finger slid in to her, her core gripped it, and when he added second finger her hips started undulating seemingly on their own volition.
“That’s it… Just pretend it’s me… It’ll be easier…” Logan muttered pulling her under his heavy frame and then he was gone. Yellow eyes of a beast stared at her, filled with lust and need to possess. Fingers retreated, making her whimper. Wolverine turned her roughly on her knees and entered to her with one, swift thrust from behind.

Female was more accommodating this time. He could even smell a faint trace of arousal lingering in her own unique scent. Good. She finally accepted him. Her pussy was still tight and barely moist, but she was getting more slippery every moment. He let out appreciative rumble and licked the back of her neck. She arched her back and bucked against him, letting out a small moan. Then she did something very confusing, but he wasn’t going to protest. She took his hand and guided it to her front side, between her thighs, to the place where they were joined. She showed him how to rub from there, and when she took her hand away, he continued stroking. It seemed to please her. Couldn’t hurt to keep her happy, even if it wasn’t completely necessary.

Familiar tightening told him he was going to come soon. Something was happening for the female and it drew his attention momentarily away from his own approaching release. She was grinding against him in earnest now, nearly screaming, and her tight and slick sheath was constricting around him. It felt rather nice. Her hand grasped his and drew his fingers away from between her legs. She clutched his palm, nails digging in to his skin and drawing blood. It hurt a bit, but that hurt combined with the scent of blood and sudden explosion of her arousal made him thrust deep inside of her and grasp her hips to keep her steady, because he was coming. Coming so hard he was sure he had to be hurting her, but she didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, she was letting out small mewling sounds and kept gyrating her hips, grinding her buttocks against him.

He maneuvered them carefully on the floor on their sides, keeping his cock still inside of her. It was important to make sure that his seed got to where it was supposed to go. She was still shivering and panting. Her skin was sweaty and flushed, and he could feel her heart pounding against her ribs. He nuzzled her neck with his lips, wanting to bite. Just a small nibble, teeth just grazing slightly, to tell her she was his. To assure her she belonged to him, because for some reason he could smell tears and regret on her now.

“Logan’s not here, but I’ll take care of you. You’re mine. Nobody can mess with you,” Wolverine spoke suddenly, words vibrating through his chest, against her back. He pulled away from her carefully. She could feel he was erect again. She expected him to lift her on her knees again, but instead he turned her gently around, face to face with him.
“What do I call you? I remember a name… Logan has a name for you…”
“Rogue,” she whispered trembling. She didn’t want to hear her real name from those lips. She didn’t want to see those eyes on Logan’s face. She closed her eyes. Soft growl made her open them again.
“This isn’t what you want, but you better get used to this.”

Days blended together. Every morning Mechanic came escorted by Guards. Took a blood sample from Marie, and gave shots to Wolverine. Wolverine. She hadn’t seen Logan after Wolverine had taken over. Mornings she spent on her knees, Wolverine filling her with his seed, afternoons she avoided him, staying at the opposite side of their tiny cell. When night came, she lay to sleep alone. When she woke up, Wolverine was usually sleeping beside her, covering her body partially with his. Then Mech came with the Guards and cycle started again. Wolverine had stopped fighting altogether and stood still while Mechanic pumped hormones in to him. Then, one morning, everything changed.

“Positive. Take it.” Those three words changed everything. She was whisked away sooner than Wolverine had time to react. Guards were dragging her along the corridor, and she could hear his furious growls echoing from behind.

Dimly lit breeding cell she had been living changed to more comfortable cell in an other part of the compound. A bed in one corner. Toilet seat in the other. Soft rugs covered the cold floor. She had seen other cells furnished in same fashion when Guards had brought her to her new ‘home’.
“You’ll be staying here until you deliver. After, if you’re still alive, we’ll see if Wolverine is again interested in you,” Mechanic explained to her before injecting greenish liquid to her thigh and leaving.

She didn’t know what to think anymore. She was pregnant, that much she had understood. And they were going to sit and wait until she gave birth, and then they were going to take the baby, and throw her back to Wolverine. To see if they could have another baby. Suddenly she felt sick. Sick and scared.

They had taken her away. She belonged to him, and they had taken her away. They had no right to do such thing. He had fought for her. Killed for her. And now they thought they could take her and he would just sit back and let it happen? They were in for a nasty surprise. He had started to behave only because his brawls with the Guards seemed to agitate her. Now that she wasn’t here, he could let loose and show them what he thought about people who messed with something that belonged to him.

He spent cold and lonely night cooped up to a corner she used to sleep when she was with him. Her scent had rubbed on the concrete floor. It was faint, but it was better than nothing. He pressed his face against the spot she had used to lay and breathed in deeply, inhaling vanilla, peppermint and musk.

He had lain on the corner that day and a night. New morning came. Five Guards entered to his cell, shackled him after a short struggle and dragged him with them to another part of the compound. It was a big room, filled with computers, glass cabinets and machines hovering above metal gurneys. Each and every one of those gurneys was equipped with restraints. They lifted him on a gurney and strapped him down. Mechanic attached an IV to his jugular, paying seemingly no attention to curses and threats he was shouting. He could already feel artificial hormones creeping inside of him, starting a fire that could be put out only one way. When machine above him started whirring and moved lower on his body, extending a hose towards his crotch he started to scream.

After few hours Logan wasn’t screaming anymore. When machine retreated and Guards removed restraints from his wrists and ankles he could only curl on his side, whimpering and trembling when painful cramps rode through his body. Wolverine was gone, as if it had been sucked out of him along his semen.
“Put it to a cell number 15,” Mechanic said. Guards yanked him up from his arms.
“We’ll continue tomorrow. Looks like we have to increase the hormone dosage…”

Cell number 15 was moderately better than breeding cell he had been in earlier. He had a bed now. Guards had thrown him on it and left. Last thing he remembered before waking to a horrible, twisting and wrenching feeling was Marie. He had been with her. He had raped her. And he had a feeling it hadn’t been the only time. Her scent was still on him. He had spent enough time with her to get it imprinted on him.

His stomach was hurting. Cock and balls were throbbing, but at the same time they felt strangely numb. Tiny wound on his neck that IV needle had made was still bleeding sluggishly. He tried to sit up but he had no strength left to do that. Bitter taste of metal in his mouth, itching and burning sensation inside of him. His mutation was as good as gone, sucked out of him to the bowels of that machine. It would come back soon enough, but he had heard the Mechanic. They were going to drain him again tomorrow.

“No. Not anymore…” He turned on his side and lifted a trembling hand, pressing his knuckles against the wall. Claws extended and got stuck to the concrete. Blood was flowing eagerly from the wounds they had made. Claws would keep the wounds open, and now that they were stuck, they wouldn’t slide back in when he lost his consciousness. At his current condition it wouldn’t take long to bleed to death, and this time his mutation wouldn’t interfere.
“I’m sorry, kid…”

Something had stirred inside of her when she first heard the screams echoing from further down the corridor. She had felt a cold spark in her head. A blue spark, like icy electricity. When Guards had dragged a mutilated body of an other breeder past her cell, that spark had started to grow. Now she felt like she was drowning to blue, electric ice. It distorted her field of vision, making everything dim and blue around her. Dark blue dust was seeping out from the pores of her skin.

Explosions wracked the compound around him, causing the walls crack and crumble. Claws slid free from their concrete sheath, and retreated back inside of his hands. He didn’t have enough strength left to push them back out. He didn’t have any strength left. He could only lay on the bed and watch when first thin layer of dust, then thicker layer of rubble and debris covered him from head to toe, burying him alive.

Breeding center lay in ruins. Lonely figure, clad only to her hands and mysterious looking blue dust that shimmered still around her rose from destruction. Nobody was alive to stop her when she limped away.