Author's Note: Warning: creepo characters and darker themes, including heavy misandry and misogyny. Also futa. Proceed with caution.


Rat ----

The chill crept through my jacket as I lumbered down the foggy street. The street lights shone bright and their reflections peered back at me on the dewy asphalt. Fall in New England, beautiful in the day and haunting at night. My footsteps fell on the sidewalk, clap clap clap clap, echoing around the silent and empty street.

I turned the corner and a young woman was walking up ahead of me. I swore under my breath. Of course, just my luck that at 3 a.m. there'd be a lone girl walking the same street I was. Even worse, she was wearing a miniskirt and tight jacket that looked far too skimpy for the cold. A bag slung over her shoulder, her knuckles gripping at the single strap that ran across her back and down to her hip. She looked my age, probably collegiate. Maybe even coming back from a party, just like me.

My sudden presence unnerved her. It was hard to tell, but I can read the signals now that I know what to look for. I read all the complaints women write on the internet about creepers in the night. Had she stolen a quick glance as I'd rounded the corner? If so, she would have immediately noticed the large dark hooded sweatshirt, the ratty jeans, my tendency to slouch and walk looking downward that hid my face in shadow. And that visage would have been anything but comforting. My legs were longer than hers; I was bigger, taller, far stronger than she could ever hope to be. If I continued to walk at my current pace, I'd come right up behind her.

The stereotyping is justified. Better alive and prejudiced than reserving judgement until some psycho's got his hands on your neck. Even so this type of situation pisses me the fuck off.

I don't pity attractive women their supposed endless harassment and catcalling, the comments and 'compliments' and outbursts of outrage when they hand down a quiet rejection. Pity is just another way for oppressors to keep the victimized as victims. It's a power play for virtue-signallers, one that few get to come back from. I've already got enough power, thank you very much. Or so I'm told by the gender studies class.

...And come on, man, look at her. That skirt, at this time of year? She's askin' for it...

Besides, women don't have to deal with the Rat.

...Holy fuck, bro, look at the way her hips move. Shut up. What? Dude, you're telling me that's not fucking hot? Christ Almighty, look at those legs! Please, just be quiet. Come on, baby, turn around for us, I bet you've got some nice titties-- Fucking shut up, you piece of shit, right now. For fuck's sake. We're almost home. Man, you pussy. Tell her how hot she is, fuckin' best piece of ass we've seen all night. She clearly wants to hear it. No, she doesn't. Look, she's even picked up the pace. Get a clue, motherfucker. Wow, she sped up? What a cunt. Does she think you're some sort of low-life loser? Call her a slut, it's all she deserves. Yeah, because that'll show her exactly how I'm not a low-life loser. Alright, alright, but look, we're getting close now. Get her attention, tell her how pretty she is. Dude, why? It's 3 a.m., what exactly do you think is going to happen? Jesus, bro, I really want to touch her. We're so close. Stop. Stop stop stop stop stop. Holy fuck she even smells like sex-- SHUT UP! JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP-- No, YOU SHUT UP! Good, now TOUCH HER! FUCKING TAKE WHAT'S YOURS!...

"Fucking move, bitch!" I nearly screamed as I suddenly lengthened my stride. She stopped dead, a mixture of confusion and anger as she watched me zoom past. Damn it all, she wasn't even scared, maybe hadn't given me a second thought until my strange outburst. A pit gnawed in my stomach, the Rat clawing at my diaphragm and scratching at my belly. I hate it when he's not the only one who's wrong.

...Pussy. You're gonna die never having touched a girl. Better than dying a pig, prick. Fuck off back to Hell where you belong. Your loss, bro. I'm just trying to help...

When I turned to enter the townhouse where I live, renting on the top floor, I saw a pale face framed by blonde hair peering through the window. Watching me walk up to the door. Almost creepy. It was my roommate, wearing a baggy sweatshirt and probably those loose sleeping shorts. I'd been living with her for almost two years now, off campus. Part of my ongoing struggle to control the Rat. Hence, we were not intimately involved. I didn't want to ruin the one good Platonic relationship I had with a girl.

I entered and locked the door behind me. She looked at me with a wry laughing expression.

"What was that about?" she smirked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Bad day," I grunted. She was indeed wearing those same loose sleeping shorts. I never saw her wear anything tight on her lower body. Just dresses, skirts, baggy tomboy shorts. It helped keep the Rat at bay and I was endlessly grateful, though of course I never told her.

"Do you... want to discuss it?" she asked, the smirk falling away to show some concern.

I shook my head and walked to the fridge to grab a hard cider. There were only two left. I didn't offer to grab her the last one. I was going to need it soon.

She sighed and shrugged.

"Want to go to a party tomorrow night?"

"Another one? I don't know, I don't like to do a bunch in a row. Thought I'd wait till alloween next week. You missed out tonight by the way."

...Yeah she fuckin' did. Didn't I tell you to fuck off?...

She smiled and slid the open cider out of my hand, taking a sip before handing it back. "Since I can tell you're not going to let me have the last one," she explained coyly.

...Randy little whore. You gonna let her get away with that? Well, I am taking the last two for myself right now...

She folded her arms and chided me. "Come on, Halloween is just gonna be those dumb costume parties. This is gonna be a nice fall party, Oktoberfest or something, so plenty of beer for you to get drunk on."

I finished the cider easily. "It's not gonna be that piss-water stuff like at the last one you forced me to go to, right?"

She shrugged and snorted. "So picky."

The second cider cracked open and the cold, sweet tang burned away a little more of the Rat.

...Better take a condom tomorrow night, just in case. Y'know, that's the first half-decent thing you've said all evening...

I really needed something stronger than cider.

"Sure, I'll go. I need to procrastinate more anyway."

She giggled and went back to the couch to look out the window. I sat at my computer to play video games and watch porn in order to distract the Rat.

Chimera ----

I stared at the girl waltzing down the street and hated her. He had looked at her with the hungriest eyes I'd ever seen. Her, some random chick he saw on the sidewalk, and yet all I got was the cold shoulder. He wouldn't even share the last bottle of cider with me.

I've been slipping the demon into his system pretty much since the beginning. It was easy to do because he liked to drink. Just pop a couple pills into his bottle after he's already had a couple. I no longer even took precautions and he'd never noticed. It was just controlling the dosage that was rather tricky.

All the pills really did was emphasize his sex drive. He already had an unusually high libido, even for a guy. I could hear him jerk off even though he always tried to hide it. I never let on that I knew. Now he struggled visibly to control himself around girls. The heightened need mixed with his inexperience (like me, a kissless virgin) and his social defects (like me, something of a loner) made for a pretty toxic masculinity. Insecurities abounded in his fevered, hungry brain. It was a pathetic sight really, and also angering because he didn't have the same strong attraction toward me. It was incredibly disappointing. The experiment was a complete failure. What was the point of the demon inside him if he didn't even notice me?

I needed an excuse to have him. If he forced himself on me, it would be so much easier to gaslight him into submission without him wanting to reach out for help. The pills being developed by my labmate in Women's Studies seemed like the perfect opportunity. And yet here I was, with no slave to show for it.

I had to wonder if it was because he knew. But I'd been so careful. So, so careful to hide it. And I'm not talking about the pills.

I'm talking about my dick.

It was why I wore dresses and skirts and loose legwear exclusively. It was why every man who'd shown interest in me had hightailed it out after I told him. It was why I was so fucked up, really. I was a freak, a girl born with a boy's groin. Every other part of me is feminine as can be, and I love it. Soft natural breasts, cute butt, petite body, delicate facial features, hell I'm even a stereotypical klutz sometimes. But then there's this part of me, this ugly fucking noodle between my legs. Other girls complain about how they look, worry about a zit on their face or their hair being too frizzy. Never thin enough, never curvy enough, do you think this makes me look fat?

They've all got nothing on my insecurities.

I'm a chimera. Apparently the zygote from which I spawned first decided to swallow what could have been a potential brother. I killed him in the womb before they even knew he was there, and he'd taken his revenge by making himself part of me. Alright, technically that's not what happens. My brother and I simply merged into one person. Two sets of DNA make up my body. In the womb, there was no wrestling into submission, no powerful female embryo giving the male what-for. It was a merger, simple as that. I was both boy and girl, the material and instructions for two different people living as one.

But since the female part of me was so predominant everywhere else on my body, I liked to think of it in terms of dominance. The girl had won, but the boy was punishing her for it every step of the way.

It's not like I want to think like that. I honestly wish my parents had done something about it before the presence of my dick and balls began to affect my life irreversibly. But nope. They decided to raise me like any other girl and figured that would keep me sane and healthy when the time came to learn how to cope. How fucking wrong they were.

But at least I don't have to deal with periods, right? Fuck you, I'd gladly bleed every month if it meant a guy would want me. I'd bear ten kids without second thought or complaint if it meant companionship, if it meant feeling his arms around me, if I could get even a glimpse of intimacy. It just wasn't available to me. Because I was a freak. Spend enough time feeling like a freak, and it really starts to wear on you. It changes how you think. I was fully aware of the sickness I was developing. But just because you can see the end of the road you're heading down, doesn't mean you can change directions.

I needed another person, couldn't live without one. The dick wasn't my only defect: I was born with a hole in my heart that only a man could fill. Only a man. And if I had to take him by trickery or by force then so fucking be it.


Rat ----

Agreeing to go to the party was a mistake. And not just because I don't particularly care to drink on the day after I've been on a bender. I was hoping that, since this wasn't a Halloween party, the prevalence of hot college babes in revealing clothing would be far less than it surely would next week. That seemed to not be the case. The Rat was having a fit in my belly. I couldn't look at any of the girls without feeling that uncomfortable ache in the pit of my stomach. Most of them had boyfriends. I was filled with endless jealousy and an angry hopelessness whenever a guy would waltz up and kiss his girl.

...Bet you wish that was you, huh faggot? You'd show her how a real man kisses...

I now had two red solo cups in my hand, and finished both of them. Weak-ass piss beer indeed. But the Rat quieted his cajoling a little and I smiled at a joke that wasn't funny.

Somehow I ended up in a room alone with a red-headed girl I recognized from a previous class. She was hammered hard and talking at a thousand miles an hour, the words blending together in a slur of spastic laughter and more drinking. I was okay not doing most of the talking, since I wasn't paying attention to what she was saying well-enough to do more than keep her going. I kept sneaking glances at her cleavage, at the curves of her ass in the tight short-shorts. She radiated sex appeal. Another gulp of beer slid down my throat and I held back a grimace.

...Come on, dude, make a move. No. She's too drunk to even talk. So? See how she's looking at you? Look at that hair flip she just did, she's flirting hard, man, she wants you to do it. Look, I'm too drunk for this, and she's definitely farther gone than I am. Oh my God, you're fucking killing me right now, bro...

The conversation slowed and then suddenly she was lying on the bed, jaw slack, eyes closed. So drunk and tired that she'd fallen asleep talking with me. Or at me, whichever it was. And I couldn't help but stare at the hypnotic rise and fall of her chest, boobs straining against her shirt with each inhale, hands draped limply at her hips like she was posing for me.

...Alright. Now's your chance. Are you fucking kidding me? You don't have to fuck her. Just touch her tits. Don't you want to know what a pair of soft, warm tits feels like? Soft and warm, I'd imagine. Wow. Unbelievable. Dude, she won't even remember. Just cop a feel and leave. I'm afraid you won't let me stop there. I swear to God, I won't push you farther. Just touch her tits, man. No. No, this is -- ugh, this is fucked up and creepy-- Dammit, man, you are going to starve us both to death with your cowardice! Man up and grab her! Christ, I want to so bad, but -- Close the door. No! No, this goes no further! Close the fucking door!...

I got up and closed the door, appearing outwardly calm and collected but inside a quickly spiraling wreck.

...Take your time. Savor it...

I put my shaking hands on her breasts and squeezed. Oh, fuck yes. Even through her shirt and her bra it was amazing.

...Fuckin' nice, man. See, I told you it was worth it. Look, she's even smiling a bit. Wait, are you sure? Totally man. Woah, she even just moaned a little. Hear that? You know what that means, right? No. No, fuck you, you said you wouldn't push me, you said we could be done if I grabbed her tits-- I fuckin' lied. We need more, man. Come on, she's into it. She's not even fucking conscious! She's responding to your touch, that's good enough for me. Now pull her shorts off. No! No no no! Please stop! Please let me stop. No. You listen to me. We're getting this done now. I've waited 24 years for your bitch-ass to grow some balls and I'm not going to let you fuck it up tonight. So pull off her fucking shorts and give this bitch wh------

"Jonathan? What are you doing?"

The Rat howled with rage, churning the acid in my stomach. I lept up and whirled around, terrified and face burning a guilty red. It was my roommate, standing in the doorway, having opened it without me noticing. She might as well have not asked the question, because she knew. I could see it in the way her icy stare sent chills down my spine.

"Um... she passed out... I was helping her get on the bed."

I was afraid she would out me. But she nodded curtly and held out another drink.

"You should be out here with us." Her tone was chastising.

I nodded and brusquely left the room. She closed the door behind me. If she hadn't blown the whistle on me by now, I didn't think she was going to.

"Here, have a drink to wash it away," she said quietly.

I took the cup and quaffed it without second thought. My nerves were a mess. I had nearly given in. The Rat had almost destroyed me. How far would I go the next time I lost control? I felt so weak and impotent. I didn't understand how these urges could be so powerful, how the anger and frustration could so consume me...

We walked down the stairs and my roommate started to leave me to rejoin her friends, but I touched her arm. It was like touching a brand. She turned to look at me, surprised.

"Lydia... I'm sorry. And... thank you."

She smiled sweetly but her eyes were darker than I'd ever seen. I suddenly felt that I had to be afraid of her.

"We'll talk later, Jonathan," she hissed.

"Lydia!" her friends called. And then she was gone, mingling among the crowd.

I went to play beer pong, hoping to distract myself from the horror I'd nearly unleashed. If Lydia had come in only a few minutes later... I wanted to vomit thinking about it. The Rat stewed in my stomach, momentarily crushed under the weight of guilt and self-hate. And I was still afraid, because I knew he'd be back.

At first I was a champ at the beer pong, as usual. Then I began to miss. Then I began to slur my words and forced laughter together. I found it odd, because I hadn't had a drink since Lydia had handed me the red solo cup in the upstairs room. But then again, I was already far past the limit I usually set for my hangover days. Maybe the effect had simply been delayed.

Then I stumbled, and my roommate rushed over.

"Are you alright, Jonathan? Need to sit down?"

"Nahgh, Ah'm fiiine." I slurred.

She rolled her eyes.

"Christ. How much have you had?"

"Nooo more thannn ushualll," I protested.

"Well, you're super shitfaced right now. We should probably go." She turned to her friends apologetically and helped me out the door, as I loudly insisted on being fine all the way out.

We'd come in her car. As she drove, the effect of the alcohol faded, but the other strange effect I was under only intensified. I couldn't move! What the fuck? I sat shotgun, belted in, unable to even lift a finger. I couldn't even control my voice.

Lydia eyed me warily.

"Jonathan? Are you alright?"

I couldn't respond. The Rat was gone. What the hell was happening to me?

And then there was a hand at my groin. Massaging, rubbing up and down slowly, caressing me through the jeans. Well, apparently one part of me still worked, because I instantly became aroused. And confused. Lydia? What in the ever-living fuck are you doing?

She pulled off onto a side road and drove a little more, then pulled into a dead end filled with trees. I'd never been here before. Why were we here? I heard her door open and she got out. Then my door opened, and her face moved in front of mine. The darkness, anger, and hatred in her expression filled me with dread. My heart raced inside my immobile body, unable to express the fear I so clearly felt.

"I saw what you were doing to that girl back there. I know what you would have done if I hadn't come in."

My blood turned to ice. She hadn't been helping me after all. But why do this privately? Fuck, was she going to kill me? Bury me in the woods in an unmarked grave?

"Do you hate women, Jonathan?" She unzipped my jeans. Oh god, what the fuck. "I know you do. Do you know why?"

She pulled down my underwear beneath my balls and my cock stood at attention. She gripped it in her hand and squeezed. An involuntary grunt escaped my throat.

"Shhhh, now. I'll tell you why. It's because you're a fucking sick little rat."

Her tiny fingers began to stroke up and down my shaft. She clearly hadn't done this before, but I was so in need that it didn't matter, I already felt myself building toward climax. And I was horrified that I didn't want her to stop.

"I'm going to teach you how not to be a dirty piece of shit. I'll show you how to properly treat and serve women. I'll teach you all the finer points they gloss over in gender studies. Like how worthless you are, because you're a man. How pathetic you are, because you're a man. How disgusting it is when you try to take something that isn't yours, because you're a man and you think you own the fucking world, don't you?"

Her nails dug into the flesh of my cockhead and I wanted to cry out. Whatever she'd drugged me with kept me in stasis, but hyper aware and with a fully functioning erection. She returned to stroking. I felt so fucking good that I wished I could beg her not to stop.

"I'll teach you which gender owns which, fucking rat."

My testicles twitched and I felt the climax coming on. She put her mouth around my cock and I exploded on her tongue. The feeling of pleasure was intense but faded quickly, and left me with my roommate Lydia cruelly staring my immobile body down. A girl whom I had thought was my friend.

I knew, now that it was over, that this wasn't the way I'd wanted my first time to be. I mean, I'd always sort of known, but it's hard when you've just been starving for so long to not imagine someone swooping in to 'rescue' you from your torment. But now it was visceral. This was the opposite of what I'd wanted to happen. This was cruelty.

And she wasn't done yet. She got up in front of my face and held my mouth open, grinning with her lips closed, eyes full of darkness. And then she spit into my mouth. A strange salty tang washed over my tongue and I realized with disgust what she'd done.

She'd spat my own ejaculate back into my mouth.

Still smiling, she held my mouth shut and pulled out a bright pink ball gag with solid white straps.

"Since you can't control your swallowing reflex just yet, this should hold it all in until you're ready."

Unable to resist, I was gagged with the taste of my own cum in my mouth, straps pulled tight across my cheeks. She returned to the driver's seat and took us back to the apartment.

The street was empty and as dead as last night. She dragged me into the house without anyone noticing, breathless by the time she got me inside. Then it was the long climb up the stairs. I was hoping our neighbors would appear out of their doors, wondering what the hell the noise was, and rescue me from this nightmare as she slowly pulled me up the stairs one by one. But they never appeared. They must have left for the weekend, been out on the town or something. Lydia would have been the only one to know, of course, only she talked to them.

Once inside and rested, she tore off her skirt and I cowered, incredulous, at the sight before me. Her underwear was bulging. Much like a man's did when he was hard.

When she disrobed entirely I could see my fears were not unfounded. Everything about her was girlish and pretty except the monstrous cock that protruded from her abdomen and the balls hanging where her vagina should have been. This all had to be some twisted, horrible dream. It couldn't be real.

"Scared, stupid boy?" she taunted. "You fucking should be."

Tears welled up in my eyes as she tore off the gag and forced herself into my mouth and down my throat. I wasn't gay, I wasn't even bi, had never fantasized about cock. I didn't understand what was happening at all... but all the same I was learning a very important lesson.

Women can have the Rat after all.


Chimera ----

Love. What a strange thing. I thought I'd wanted it before. But now, I was loving this, whatever 'this' was.

Part of 'this' was him being tied up at nearly all times. When he wasn't, he was doped up on something or other to keep him docile and under my control. Right now he wasn't delirious or unconscious, so he was restrained. He was secured sitting crossed-legged on the floor, his calves strapped tightly together. His arms were twisted up behind him in a loose reverse prayer, the cuffs linked to the posture collar I had him wearing as an attempt to cure that dreadful slouch. A tight cock and ball harness kept his man parts standing at attention and ever prominent for my torment. A large buttplug filled his ass, trapping inside him my cum from our anal session earlier this morning. He was blindfolded, ring-gagged, and doing his damnedest to suck me off and so escape a harsh punishment. He'd been sucking for nearly twenty minutes straight.

He's been my toy, my slave, for five days now. I've loved every second. I have no regrets. None. How could I regret fucking his tight little ass or his wonderful wet throat? It's magic every time. Finally, finally, I can connect with a man on an intimate, carnal level. And I know, even if he begs and protests, that he loves it and needs it just as much as I do. His eyes don't lie, and neither does his cock.

After he'd finished me and swallowed every drop, I removed the blindfold and we traded places. Or rather, I forced myself down upon him. Whatever. He would've been hard even without the tight cock and ball harness that he now wore almost permanently in lieu of underwear. I teased him with my mouth for half an hour, brought him to the edge and then stopped abruptly. His wails of mixed outrage and begging filled my ears like a chorus of angels. Oh, sweet music to my soul, how I loved his tormented cries! I lay atop him, breasts pressed up against his quaking chest, and ran my fingers along his taut muscles. His strength was immense compared to mine; even now I felt how easily he could cripple me and take me, and yet he was powerless to do so. He was bound as my slave, and that would not be changing. Not ever. I finally had what I desired, and it would be foolish to let it go.

He had been soft for a while so I started up again. Three more times I brought him begging to the edge, until tears spilled from his eyes. The fourth time, nearly three hours later, I gave him an orgasm so explosive I thought it had killed him. I smacked his cheeks and his eyes shot open, then I held his face steady and spat the fluid once again into his mouth.

"You know what to do."

The ring gag made swallowing tricky. But he always managed. Whenever either of us ejaculated, he would swallow the cum. He would do so every single time for the foreseeable future. Well, except when I came in his ass. I wasn't that mean, and I liked him plugged up and cum-filled at both ends anyway. That left him swallowing up to a maximum of four loads a day. One from me, three from his own cock if he was really into it. I liked keeping his ass filled with cum so naturally a couple of my loads went there. The excessive amounts weren't something I could make him do everyday, but I promised him that every once a while there'd be a day with basically nothing but sex and swallowing. Our libidos were pretty high, and the pills were keeping him horny as a rabbit. I wondered how many gulps we could work him up to for a single day.

I helped him sit back up on the couch and plopped into his lap, turning on some femdom porn. On his TV no less, although I guess it was mine now, wasn't it? That's the nice thing about taking a fresh slave while no one notices; you get all their stuff too!

"Hey. You paying attention?"

He shot me a caustic glare. The back of my hand smacked across his cheek and wiped the anger from his eyes.

"How dare you look at me like that! If I ever see those rapey eyes again I'll tighten the harness until your balls fall off. Did you learn nothing from gender studies? You. Treat. Women. With. Respect. And. Obedience." I punctuated the last sentence with more hard slaps on his face. "You exist to please and to serve, nothing more. Got it?"

He nodded, broken for the moment, and it warmed my heart. I rubbed his face where the sting of pain was still hot across his skin.

"If you obey me, I'll make you feel really good, okay?"

He nodded and more tears dripped from his eyes.

"Aww, my baby. I know it's tough. Be tough for me, okay? Be my tough man."

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and cuddled him, sinking into his lap and chest. I felt so small against his powerful body. And yet so in control. I reached down to play with his exhausted dick and constricted balls.

"I'll make you feel so good, but only if you're good for me first."

He groaned and relaxed. I giggled like a little girl. Soon enough this rat would be mine.