Chapter Text

Chapter 1

The Green God of Greed

There once was a young man with dark brown hair and two different colored eyes. He was known to be one of the most beautiful of men in the land. He was so beautiful in fact that he caught the attention of a powerful god. The god lusted after him, spoiling him with gifts but the man refused the god's advances in fear. For the god was the god of greed and he did not respect the mortal's boundaries. He became obsessive, stalking the man's every waking hour. The man pleaded with the god to understand his needs, but the god did not care to understand. For he was a god, and the man a mere mortal. It was the same to him as a child playing with his toys. He even invaded the man's dreams and with the mighty power of the god's presence, the man's dreams melded with his reality until his sanity was swept away into a state of delusions and hallucinations. His life became that of a prolonged nightmare and he longed for power that would save him from his despair. 

One night, under the brightly glowing moon, he did not know whether he pleaded in his sleep or wake, but in a single moment of lonesome he reached out to the pantheon of gods. A cry for help. One god, the god of trickery and chaos and karma, the younger sibling of the god of greed, took pity on the mortal and noticed a fine opportunity to play a mischievous prank on her brother. The god of trickery and chaos and karma surrounded the man in an illusionary mist, protecting him from watchful eyes, and presented him with a gift.

"Place this emerald collar around his neck and place this lapis necklace around yours. Once they glow speak the word Hubris. A ritual will begin in which if you drink of his nectar, you will ascend to godhood in his place."

The next morning the mortal found his godly keeper in the woods that surrounded the kingdom and presented to him the collar. The imbedded emeralds and gold detailing glistened in the sunlight that fell between the canopy of trees. Around the man's neck dangled its counterpart, a thin silver chain of blue lapis lazuli beads and a small silver key.

"I brought you a gift," Said the mortal.

The god stood tall and intimidating, a single misspoken word could unleash his prideful wrath. The god did not trust the gift from his mortal. He had never given him anything before especially unprompted. And what a mysteriously beautiful thing it was. The mortal could sense the god's uncertainty. He knew it was a rather stark contrast to his usual behavior. Always running, always hiding, always deflecting the god's advances in ways that would insure his life was not threatened, but enough to protect his modesty.

"You have been so charitable to me for so long," The mortal continued, "At first I thought you too mighty for me, that I was not worthy of love so great as yours. But you've been patient with me for so long that now I understand how truly blessed I am and I realize how selfish I've been. So in secret I had this made by the finest smiths I could find. It is a grand gesture of my love for you. I hope it is enough of an apology coming from a mere mortal like myself."

The god lit up with delight. His ego stroked by words as finely crafted as the collar. The day his love was reciprocated had finally come, he thought. The game of chase had been fun to play but he had to admit that wining was always the most satisfying part. He descended on his bright white wings to the level of his mortal and wrapped two of his specter-like arms around his waist and with the other two held his cheeks. He leaned in close so his porcelain mask nearly touched the tip of his mortal's upturned nose. 

The mortal bared the closeness, his heart pounding in his chest. Without giving himself away he slipped the collar around the god's neck. He felt the clasp click closed and with a wave of excitement flooding forth from the guarded depth of his heart he whispered into the golden lock.

"Hubris."

As soon as the word left his lips the collar began to glow and eerie neon green. The god swished his wings, falling back in surprise as large dark clouds encompassed the sky. The forest shook as the wind swirled around in a vortex surrounding them in a circle of chaotic green energy. Great flocks of birds fled to the sky and the rustling of small animals scattering in the bushes added a foreboding omen to the heavy atmosphere. The mortal stood unharmed in the eye of the storm and watched in awe as the collar grew like vines around the god's form. 

The golden halos that swirled around his head in an X formation glowed brighter and brighter as they shrunk around his head before disappearing behind his mask. He grabbed at his mask, hissing as if in pain. The god's wings withered away as well. The feathers fluttering into fragments of glittering particles before dying out. His long, green cloak transformed from specter to flesh, building him a body from nothing. The god fell to the ground upon knees that resembled those of a mortal man. He watched with horror as the gold and emerald vines sprouted from the cage around his new torso, wrapping themselves tightly around his new arms and legs and then sinking their roots into the ground around him, pulling him down into a bed of moss at the foot of an overgrown tree.

The mortal stepped gingerly towards the pile of moss and vines, lifting his ivory glasses to get a better view of his captor, fallen from grace. 

"You tricked me!" The fallen god hissed. Many of his green eyes glared up with anger threw the cracked smile of his porcelain mask at the mortal standing over him.

"I tricked you?" The man asked. "I thought gods were all knowing." 

The mortal reached down and snatched the porcelain mask from the fallen god's face. At long last he could see the expression behind that aggravating, gaunt smile. He reveled in it, for it was without pride nor confidence. His fanged teeth twisted in a grimace, his cheeks flushed with shame, and his many pairs of green eyes—embedded along two dark strips of charcoal colored flesh where the halos must have burned him—drew wide with fear. The man couldn't help but giggle as he looked upon the fallen's vulnerable and exposed mortal form.

The man realized his rejection of this being in the past was really directed more at his power and incorporeal presence, like a ghost that drained him of energy and paralyzed him with fear. But as a human being, stripped of his haunting power, he was quite tantalizing. Short golden hair and freckled skin. A sharp jawline and supple lips. His body was fit and lean and surprisingly or perhaps not so surprising, he was also well endowed.

An eerie green smoke danced off of the sparkling crystalline harness that held the god firmly to the ground. The smoke weaved its way around the pair creating a light misty cover. But there was a particular property to the mist. It wasn't just for ambiance. The man felt himself grow woozier with each breath. His cheeks flushed with warmth. The god felt a similar feeling of drowsiness and desire threatening to take over his mind as his body forced him to breath. He grew weary as the mortal's expression softened. 

Before, the mortal thought, as soon as he'd ensnared the god in the collar's trap he would run away and live his life as he did before he caught the god's eye. But now the heavy shroud of helplessness the man always felt in his presence was gone. Instead, he felt light and powerful. The roles became reversed; the tormenter was now the tormented. The beautiful man with two differently colored eyes decided he would not run away. He decided he would take the fallen god of greed's place eternally as compensation for his grief. A smile swept over his face as his eyes gained an eerie green glint. 

As the fallen god struggled against his bonds the mortal noticed a part of his body that stood out more than the rest. Curiously, he grazed the tip of his finger in a circular motion around it's head. The fallen god's body tensed up and the golden, emerald vines glowed once again that eerie neon green. A sappy trickle fell slowly down his length and the man followed it with his fingers. 

A shiver rand down the fallen's spine and a sinking feeling gripped the pit of his stomach. He felt the mana that naturally cycled through his veins, slowly gather in into a ball his lower abdomen as if he were generating strength for a spell. Startled, he looked up at the face of his mortal. He wore a haughty expression filled with greed. An expression he never wished to see stain that beautiful face. After all, he was the god of greed, no one could wear such an expression but him. His toys were to have beautiful expressions. He could not bear to look into a face that reflected his own. Frantically his eyes searched the area for his porcelain mask. They all fell on it, discarded in the grass to the side. Just out of his reach. And no matter how hard he intended for it to come to him, his power would no longer respond to his will.

"You can't hide behind that terrible thing any longer," Said the mortal.

The fallen god kept his eyes on the mask. He didn't dare look back at the face that paired with that taunting voice.

The mortal noticed his captive strain to avoid his gaze. it amused him. Was it shyness or shame that he felt? If he further taunted him, how would his expression change? 

"Isn't this what you always wanted?" The mortal teased, stroking his hand up and down his prisoner's sensitive skin.

The fallen god tensed up again. With each stroke, sensations he'd never felt before coursed through his new body. Shivers ran down his spine. He felt a fog cloud his mind; his new heart quickened its beat. Pain in his chest forced him to take deeper breaths. The weight of gravity he used to defy held his arms and legs down even stronger than the glowing emerald vines. It was all very overwhelming. And as the seconds passed, It became harder and harder for him to focus on his anguished thoughts.

"This intimacy between us..." The mortal continued, leaning in to hook his hand under the fallen one's jaw.

The two locked eyes. Eyes that both gleamed with an eerie green light.

"Give me your power," The beautiful man commanded.

The fallen one felt a pulse, a throbbing feeling in his pelvis. His mind nearly slipped into what felt like a deep state of relaxation. But as he began to give in he felt a small trickle of mana release and realized that if he did, he would lose something very important. And the former god of greed hated to lose.

With new found purpose, the fallen god grit his teeth and closed his eyes focusing his concentration on conserving his mana. He would not lose this game. The man was only a mere mortal. He would tire and the collar that lived off of his dwindling lifeforce could not keep him like this forever. He would not lose his godhood in such a humiliating way.

The mortal sighed. "I guess it wouldn't be so easy to take from the god of greed." He let go of the god's face, flicking his fingers under his chin. "But you've always been so willing to give me gifts before. Why not this last one?"

The mortal leaned back and licked at the sappy fluid that covered his other hand. As he swallowed, an intense energy seeped into his soul. He felt invigorated, the green glint in his eyes brightened, changing the color if his irises. He descended upon his prey with a predatory hunger. He took in to his mouth the upturned shaft and teased him with skill that challenged the fallen god's concentration. The fallen grimaced, his very limbs shivering as he clung desperately to what little of his sanity remained. The man pressed on, changing his approach every so often. He could feel the fallen come closer and closer each time but just as he felt he'd tipped him over the edge, the fallen would manage to hold out. He panted heavily; his skin wicked with perspiration. The beautiful man paused to catch his breath, still stroking with his hands, determination in his eyes. The fallen peeked with one of his eyes. His vision was hazy at best.

"Give it up," The fallen panted. "A mortal can't outlast a god." 

"I knew you we're stubborn, but look at yourself," The beautiful man held up one of his hands coated in translucent fluid. He played with his fingers in a taunting manner. The fluid glinted an iridescent color in the light that shined through the trees. He licked himself clean, maintaining eye contact. "Take as long as you need. A friend once told me, humans are persistent predators.”

The beautiful man bent down and rolled his tongue up along his prey's length. The fallen laid his head back in the moss. A challenge always inflated his pride. He went back to calming his breathing with a new found confidence. Though what the man had been doing was quite pleasurable, he was growing used to the sensations. And as the minutes passed, he would strengthen his immunity. 

The man noticed the smug smile that drew along the fallen's face. He frowned.

"Though perhaps, there may be some way for me to speed things along..." The man reached under the fallen's legs, lifting his lower half into his lap. 

"What are you doing?"

"Wouldn't you like to know..." The man said sliding two of his fingers slowly between the fallen's cheeks.

"H-hey!" the fallen protested at the invasive penetration. "That feels weird."

"It would help if I had something a little more..." Mumbling to himself he lifted a hand, scrunching his fingers in a grabby motion. His thoughts filled with imagery of a more stimulating tool.

As he envisioned it in his mind, the small amount of eerie green energy that glowed in his eyes and coursed through his body changed color and condensed into a light blue magic in his hand, taking the shape of what he imagined and finally settling into a real object in his grasp. He marveled at his new found power, twirling the phallic piece of smooth glass in his hand.

"Oh my…you're a gift that keeps on giving," The man said with a cheeky glimmer in his eyes.

"What?" The fallen lifted his head to see what was going on.

The man lubricated the bulbous piece of glass before slowly inserting it, replacing his fingers between the fallen's cheeks.

"Ahh!" The fallen gasped as the man pushed and pulled on whatever had just been placed within him. 

His thoughts raced as the new sensations caught him off guard again. He felt the object fill whatever crevasse was down there inside of him. An intense pleasure flooded his body, more so than before as the bulb pressed up against a particular spot he didn't even know existed. he couldn't hold back the instinctual gasps and moans that left his lips.

"That feels good, doesn't it?" The mortal teased.

"Y-you..." The fallen god was too overwhelmed to formulate a quip back. 

The mortal chuckled at his response before returning to the game. He thrust the toy in and out in rhythm with his head and swallowed the small but steady flow of mana as it trickled out of his prey. The god felt himself loosing grip of his mana as the mortal thrusted and twisted his tongue. The density of mana in his pelvis was charged up so intensely that it too pressed upon that spot. And, with one particularly deep thrust, his body betrayed him. With a loud, embarrassing moan his mana spurt forth in waves. The rippling sensations threw his mind and body into a state of ecstasy. He felt a mind-numbing sense of peace wash over him for the first time in his life. As if he'd somehow rid himself of a deep-seated stress that he didn't realized had been tiring him out over the infinity of his existence. Though, as the ripples subsided and he felt his consciousness rise back to the surface of reality he realized that he had just lost. He had just lost his godhood to a mortal. 

Defeated, he looked up at the mortal that loomed over him and his eyes widened at the unsettling sight that unfolded before him. 

The mortal's form was wrapped in a green glowing light that slowly turned blue as his form shifted. Bright red mushrooms with little white dots sprouted from his shoulders. His ears grew pointed and the tips blushed a bright red. A larger mushroom cap sprouted from the back of his head, growing larger and larger till it peaked over the tips of his ears. Little bits of golden starlight dangled across the edges of the shroom cap creating a sleepy ambiance around his face. His glasses turned into a sheer veil over his eyes. The ends of his arms and legs grew faint, turning a specter like shade of blue.

The new god opened his eyes, one blue, one brown. The blue of which glowed even more beautifully than before, like a diamond. And the brown was as bold and intense as the timber of a dark oak tree. He felt around, taking in the changes to his appearance.

The fallen god of greed who was now nothing more than a man, felt empty and weak. He would have wept if it weren’t for his pride. Instead, he thrashed against the vines that held him down though his attempts were feeble and useless. He cursed the new god that floated before him.

“You took everything from me. Now I will take everything from you,” The god of dreams spoke in a tone of nightmarish whispers.

He held out a spectral hand and pulled from the man the remainder of his mana that lingered within his veins.

Again, the man was thrust into a trance of ecstasy. The likes of which he’d never experienced before. A thought lingered in his mind that it wouldn’t be all that bad for him if he could remain in that state for eternity. The new god of dreams grew in size and faded into the magical storm in the sky. Leaving the new mortal in the moss bed.

The vines that held him down released him slowly but the man’s mind and body were too spent to make anything of his freedom. As he drifted into a deep sleep, a feeling of desire burned in his chest.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

The Traveler

Dream awakened to the sounds of hooves and clattering wood. He tried to open his eyes but was startled to find that something had been wrapped around his head. As he stirred, he felt a wooden surface underneath him and had the vague sense that he was in motion. He straightened up, feeling a cloth fall off his torso and into his lap.

"G'morning sleepy bird," An unfamiliar deep voice called to him.

Dream grabbed at the wrap around his face so he could see what was going on.

"Oh. Sorry, I wrapped my head scarf around your face 'cause your mass of eyes were just kinda giving me the creeps."

Dream's hand froze over the scarf. Creepy? He thought. It hurt his pride to hear. He covered his eyes with a mask to protect mortals from his divinity so they wouldn't be driven to madness not because his form was creepy. He wasn't creepy, he was otherworldly. An unfathomable being of great power.

"I had a mask..."

The motion he was in came to a halt. He pulled down on a single wrapping of the scarf that covered his most dominant eye to peer out at his surroundings cautiously. He was inside the cart of a canvas, covered, wooden wagon.

"Oh, was that yours?"

The voice came from behind him. Startled he turned to see a tall, dark haired man hoist himself off the wagon's driver’s seat and land right next to him, taking a seat on one of the benches in the same motion. The two starred at one another.

He was kind of disheveled, his eyes were dark and he had the wisps of a beard along his jaw. His clothes were simple. A white tee shirt with a black long sleeve underneath and black pants. He wasn't fully donned in armor but he did wear a chest plate and boots made of netherite that shimmered with the violet energy of enchantments. A sword was sheathed at his side.

"Sorry, I kinda stepped on something fragile when I found you butt-ass naked and dead-ass asleep in the fucking woods."

Dream narrowed his eyes with aggravation. A sorry wouldn't cut it. He'd kill this man and take everything he had as compensation.

"So, what's your deal?"

The man leaned in and Dream leaned back instinctively. The man hooked a quick finger under the band of his emerald collar, halting Dream's attempt at maintaining the distance between them.

"You've got a very fancy collar on. Are you some kind of nobleman's runaway slave?"

Dream's eyes widened with disbelief at the man's utter disrespect. "Slave?" He batt his hand away. "I have never and will never belong to anyone!"

The man raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "That was pretty cute not gonna lie."

Dream blinked several times. "Excuse me?"

"Did you know you're ears flap when you're angry? I'm assuming you're angry right now."

"What?" Dream asked exasperatedly.

All to quickly the man came to kneel over Dream, entangling his hands around his winged ears. 

"They're like little baby wings, how do you even hear with them? Are your real ears hidden somewhere amongst all this fluff?"

The man poked and prodded the little white, feathered ears that stuck out on either side of Dream's head. The tips of the feathers were tinted green and like his eyes they were the last remnants of his godly image. 

"H-Hey!" Dream wrestled clumsily with the man as little shivers ran along his feathers. "Th-that feels weird! Let go of me."

The man let go with a cheeky grin, letting Dream shove him off. 

Dream got up, letting the cloth fall completely to the floor along with his modesty. "I'm leaving," He stumbled as he walked with real legs for the first time, falling into the arms of the quick-witted, dark-haired man.

"Woah there, I don't know how you ended up like this but we're in the middle of nowhere." The man said. "I can't let you leave as you are. Let me at least take you to the nearby town and get you a spare change of clothes."

Dream grabbed the man's sword but wasn't quick enough to fully unsheathe it before the man caught him firmly above the elbow and swiveled him around, pinning his arm behind his back and choking him with his other hand. His hand was large enough to fit halfway around his entire neck. And he was strong enough that Dream's attempt to break his grasp was feeble in comparison. Dream looked up at him with contempt through the gap in the white headscarf. He didn't like this scruffy mortal. He was annoying and handsy and persistent. He could hear his heart beating in his ears and his lungs screamed at him to regain some air.

"...F-Fine," Dream managed to choke out.

Roughly, the man tossed him to the ground and manhandled him into the blanket he picked off the ground.

"What are you--let go of me!" Dream protested.

"You. Stay. Put. No more attempts on my life or I'll tie you into this, you hear me?" He held Dream down waiting to see if he's listen.

Dream glared at him. He wanted to fight, but it was very clear he was not wining in the body he was trapped in. It frustrated him to no end.

"You're lucky I've recently been afflicted with this curse. If not for it, I would smite you a thousand times over."

"Hmm, I should have figured I'd picked up a crazy person considering you haven't been embarrassed by your immodesty once this entire time."

Dream's little wings flared out with rage and if his eyes weren't still covered by the scarf he might have actually looked intimidating enough to the man to make his grip falter. But with just the ears alone and the one angry green eye peeking through the little gap, it had the opposite effect. He reminded him of a scared little bird. The man got up and returned to his seat at the front of the wagon. He flicked the reigns, signaling the horses to continue their journey.

"My name is Sapnap, what's yours?" The man asked.

Dream didn't answer. He wanted nothing more to do with the man than he had to. With the initial shock and confusion over, Dream examined his current situation more thoughtfully. The collar was still around his neck but since he was no longer chained up, it must be that a certain trigger is required for it to come alive as it did before. He tried to break it off of him with brute force but it wouldn't budge. He ran his hands along it in search of an opening mechanism but it was smooth all around. A golden lock dangled off the front of it but it didn't seem to be holding anything together. If anything, it appeared more decorative than practical.

"I'll keep asking you know. We're close by to the nearest kingdom, but I tend to take the scenic route when I'm not in a rush," The man lightly threatened.

Dream sighed deeply. He hadn't thought of an answer to that question. He allowed his mortal to call him XD but to let any other mortal use it felt degrading. He tried to think of another name but really didn't feel as though anything else would suit him. In fact, being called anything other than his divine title felt even more degrading. But to say he was still DreamXD would be a lie. 

"Do you not have one?"

"Dream...I'll allow you to call me that."

"That's a pretty name for a man."

"What, you dont think a man can be pretty?"

"I never said you weren't."

Dream paused. First this guy calls him creepy then he calls him pretty. Which is it?

"So, Dream, what did you do to earn the wrath of a god?"

"...What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean, you've got a pretty normal body but your face... you said you've been cursed right?"

Dream starred at the back of the man's head, bewildered at his brazenness.

"I don't owe you an explanation," He said curtly.

"It must have been really bad then, huh?"

"Are you looking for a fight?"

"I mean it makes sense for a man that gives himself the same name as a god, right? DreamXD, that must be the one, right? A prideful god like that must have gotten really upset with you're hubris, am I right, Dream?"

Dream meant to stand up and clock the man over the head. He meant to kick the man off of his own wagon and take it for himself as retribution for such audacity. He certainly meant to, but as soon as the word left the man's lips, just like before, the collar burst to life. Lighting up like a glow squid's ink and growing limbs in a similar likeness to the creature. Dream fell to the ground in the cart as the harness wrapped itself around him and folded his legs and arms into a hogtie of connected straps and cuffs.

At the sound of his struggle, Sapnap halted the cart to check what happened behind him. He was startled to see the naked man chained up in glowing emerald and gold. He starred in awe as the man cursed and grappled with his restraints. An eerie green mist filled the enclosed space of the tented cart.

“Woah…” Sapnap said.

The green mist settled around his eyes and seeped into his breath. His cheeks blushed with desire. As he fell into a dazed state of mind, he felt a pull towards Dream. He let go of the reigns and climbed over the seat, dropping down next to the helpless man in his cart.

Dream struggled against his bonds. He felt weak. Even more so that he’d felt the first time this happened. He couldn’t see anything because of the wraps over his eyes but he tensed up at the feeling of a warm hand trailing down his back. The sensation sent a shiver down his spine and he felt a powerful force of arousal spread like warmth throughout his body.

"Ah... n-not again," Dream moans.

Sapnap's hands trail down Dream's spine and caress his ass. Dream wriggles helplessly against his bonds, groaning. Sapnap gripped a hold of Dream and pushes him over onto his side revealing a half mast boner. His eyes, clouded with a green glowing mist focus on it.

"I feel this urge to suck you off," Sapnap said. "And it looks like, you're as turned on as I am."

"S-stay away from me," Dream growled.

"Ah, come on Dream," Sapnap sang as he slid his hands up across Dream's legs and trailed around his hips. "You look so cute all bound up. You're like a wrapped up present. I get the feeling you'll give me something wonderful for my efforts to please you. I'll have you know I am very skilled with my tongue."

"Get your hands off of me," Dream said.

Sapnap sighed and removed his hands. He sat back on his legs and stared at the bundle of glowing emerald vines. Dream could no longer feel what was happening. He strained with his ears to try and hear anything. He felt surrounded by darkness without his sight.

"Well, I'm not a monster. It seems this isn't something you wanted," Sapnap said getting up and walking over to one of his boxes in the cart. "Whether this is a curse from the gods for your Hubris I don't know but maybe whatever is happening to us will end if I break that thing off of you."

Sapnap pulled a netherite pickaxe out of one of the chests and returned to Dream. He flipped Dream back onto his stomach and placed a hand on his back. Dream heaved a great sigh. The touch was electrifying. He felt a part of him craving more. But he resented it. He wanted to resist. He knew it was the work of the cursed collar. Sapnap swung his pickaxe carefully and it came crashing down on a dense section of the woven emerald vines. Dream cried out in shock as a rush of electricity flashed through his body. It left an aftershock of pleasure and Dream had to hold himself back from moaning audibly. 

"What just happened?" Sapnap asked.

The effects of the aphrodisiac greatly increased. Making Sapnap keel over and grab a hold of himself. The two of them breathed heavily trying to fight against the mist's effects on them. 

"I'll be right back," Sapnap said getting up again and walking back to the seat at the front of the cart.

Sapnap sat on the bench and pulled down his pants. His boner bounced up out of the white fabric that had held it down. He rubbed himself and looked out at the scenery. He was stopped on the side of the main road leading towards the nearby kingdom. He could see the castle in the distance. Anyone could come up or down this road and see him jerking off. As a cool breeze blew through the cart, Sapnap's arousal only heightened. It wasn't long until he needed to lean out the side of the cart to climax. Once he relieved himself, he felt more in control of his actions. He was still aroused by mist and he turned his head back to see Dream still trapped within the vines, struggling for his pride. His cock was still hard so he decided to leave it out to feel the nice breeze. He's put it away if he saw anyone around.

"I think I might know someone who might know something about your situation," Sapnap said to Dream.

He took up the reigns and headed at full speed for the kingdom ahead.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

The Three Fiancés

Sapnap put his penis away before arriving at the gates of the kingdom, paid his dues to the gatekeeper and headed for his home. It was a quaint log cabin in the middle of a lake. He stopped the cart at the back entrance and stepped into the back of the cart. There were a few barrels he needed to unload first before getting near Dream again. The closer he got the hornier he felt. The green aphrodisiacal smoke wafting from the vine-like straps that kept Dream locked in a hogtie became more powerful the closer he was. He was already at half-mast just unloading the barrels. He had to stay focused on his task so he didn't leave his valuables out for anyone to steal. 

Dream grew restless waiting on the wooden floor of the cart. His joints grew sore from being bound for so long through such a bumpy ride. He couldn't see anything due to the white head scarf falling over his last open eye in the confusion. All he could do was wait for something to happen to him and feel the growing desire to be touched every time his penis rubbed up against him with the movement of the cart. When the cart finally stopped, he listened to the rustling of barrels and footsteps coming closer and moving away. He felt the slight give of the cart every time Sapnap jumped up into it and down out of it. It wasn't much of anything really, but every time the man left, he felt himself wishing for him to return soon. He didn't want to be abandoned here, in his predicament. His heart skipped a beat when he heard the faint sound of two different voices in the background. Two voices he didn't recognize. He heard Sapnap's distinct, raspy voice replying to the two just a moment after. And the trudging of three pairs of feet walking through the grass towards the cart.

"Okay you," Sapnap called out, pushing back the flap of the canvas cover.

Dream lifted up his head with a snap.

"Holly shit," A shrill voice rang out with a laugh. "You really weren't kidding Sapnap."

"And you just found him in the forest?" Another bubblier voice said with surprise.

"Yep, I didn't know this was gonna happen but, I feel like, I can't just leave him like this," Sapnap said.

A warm feeling of relief filled Dream's lungs as he let go of a breath, he'd been holding in. 

"Well, what do you think we're gonna be able to do with him?" The shrill voice replied.

"Quackity, that's what I was gonna ask you," Sapnap said. "Being like a demi-god and all, I thought you'd know something."

The cart creaked as someone approached Dream. Dream tensed, worried about what was going to happen to him.

"You think my old man tells me anything? He just holes himself up in his little pyramid and sleeps," Quackity replied.

Two strong, warm hands slipped their way between the straps on Dream's back and he was lifted into the air. His body brushed up against cold metal armor and strong legs. Dream exhaled in shock. 

"Don't worry, I got you," Sapnap reassured him. "Where am I taking him?"

"Let's get him on a bed at least, I'm sure he's sore and cold if he's been like that for the whole ride here," The other bubbly voice replied.

"Help me with this Karl," Sapnap said lowering Dream into the open arms of his lover.

"Sure, sure," The bubbly voice, Karl, said.

"Hey, what's happening?" Dream asked with worry.

"Easy, I just don't wanna drop you while I get off the cart, you're in good hands," Sapnap said.

Dream felt himself get lowered into a very warm embrace of soft cotton and cold, thin hands. He shivered as they wrapped themselves around his chest. He heard a grunt and the creaking of the cart as Sapnap hopped out onto the grassy ground.

"Sapnap, he's kinda heavy," Karl grunted.

"It's okay I've got him now," Sapnap said.

Dream felt himself hoisted up suddenly, flung over Sapnap's shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Ah!" Dream exclaimed, his stomach lurching.

"Sorry," Sapnap said gripping him under the ass.

Dream inhaled sharply as his boner squished against the hard cold surface of Sapnap’s breastplate. The pain mixed with pleasure and the cold temperature of the metal all mix together to create a sensation that sent shivers up his spine. It teased him to an intolerable degree. He felt his essence dripping out of him slowly. He couldn’t keep a grip of it in his position.

“C-careful,” Dream hissed.

"Jeez, I see what you mean Sapnap," Quackity said coming closer to them. "I desperately wanna slap his ass."

Dream tensed as a warm hand brushed across one of his cheeks softly. He felt fear rise up in his chest, wondering if the hand would crack down against him quick and sharp.

"Hey!" Dream exclaimed, struggling against his bonds.

"You’re struggling as if you’re not the one setting the mood," Quackity teased.

"I didn't ask for this!" Dream cried.

Sapnap grabbed Quackity’s wrist and pulled it away from Dream gently.

“My love you’re being enthralled by magic. Let’s not loose our senses to it,” Sapnap said.

“You know, it might be the mist but don’t you look ravishing yourself my love,” Quackity sighed.

The two smiled at one another before embracing. Kissing with deep passion. Dream heard the smacking of lips and felt the tilt of Sapnap’s body. He was pressed into a more uncomfortable position against his bonds and his boner pressed even firmer between him and the armor.

“Get a room,” Dream whined.

"A room, yes. Let's go to our room," Karl said, pulling Sapnap and Quackity along by the arms.

The three entered their home and made a beeline for the bedroom where three beds sat next to one another creating one very large bed. Sapnap laid Dream down on one end of the bed before both his lovers pulled him over to the other side of the bed and started making out with him passionately. Dream managed to brush his head against the sheets, pushing the white headscarf up a bit, letting him see with one of his eyes. He blinked at the sight before him. Sapnap, sat on the bed between two other men. One in a multicolored hoodie with curly light brown hair and brown eyes, and another with a jet-black mullet covered by a blue beanie and matching a blue hoodie. The second man also had very small golden wings that flapped uselessly on his back. Dream watched as the three wrestled each other's clothes off.

"H-Hey!" Dream cried.

"Hmm? Do you wanna join in?" Karl asked.

"You're the reason we're like this," Quackity grumbled from behind Sapnap.

"Guys it's not his fault, I think," Sapnap said, temporarily pushing his partners off of him for Dream's sake. "At least, he seems very prudish for someone with a curse like this. My guess is it's a curse, if it were me, I think I'd call it a blessing," He smirked.

"Yeah well, you're a whore, Sapnap," Karl joked.

"Do you really not know what we can do for him?" Sapnap asked, leaning into Quackity's ear and wrapping his hand around his head.

"All I know, is what I want to do to the two of you right now," Quackity growled.

Karl gasped and leaned in to Quackity with big, dreamy, doe eyes.

"Well, shit. I'm sorry Dream. If you have any ideas, I’m willing to hear them out. But I might need to clear my head first if that's alright with you," Sapnap said, sitting himself down next to Dream.

He was practically half naked at this point. His armor completely discarded onto the floor and a very apparent tent stood up in his pants. Dream groaned to himself, wrestling with the straps that bound him. He watched as Karl and Quackity made out behind Sapnap. He appreciated the restraint Sapnap was showing him.

"Just get it over with quickly," Dream sighed.

"I can give you something to cover your ears with, or take you to another room," Sapnap said.

"It's fine," Dream said.

"Oh? You wanna watch or something?" Sapnap teased.

"Ugh," Dream sneered. 

He turned his head away and Sapnap chuckled. It wasn't so much that Dream wanted to watch, he thought to himself as Sapnap rejoined his lovers. His curiosity for mortals still itched at the corners of his mind. But it was more so that he didn't want to be left alone. And if he needed anything, there was someone he felt he could rely on to help him if he needed it. He was, for all intents and purposes, completely at the mercy of these mortals. It infuriated him to no end. But deep down, it also scared him and excited him at the same time.

The three got down to business, Quackity quickly pulling out multiple bunches of rope and tying up a very patient Karl who sat in a pose of servitude. Sapnap joined in, running his hands through Karl's hair and gripping tightly at the fluffy locks. Karl moaned at the feeling of Sapnap gripping his hair and wrapping a large, strong hand around his neck from behind. Quackity chuckled as he wrapped the rope around Karl's arms creating an intricate chest harness that also held his wrists. The two of them threw Karl down onto the bed. As Sapnap descended upon Karl's chest, biting at his sensitive skin, Quackity bound each of his legs, ankle to thigh, and pulled out a glass potion bottle full of clear liquid. He poured some out onto his hands and got to work slipping his finger in and out of Karl's ass, priming him for the real deal. Karl moaned with pleasure as he pressed into his prostate. 

Dream watched the three enjoy each other with envy. He may not have known it was envy but he did know he felt a deep pit of desire boiling in his chest. The same sort of desire he felt when he would look upon his mortal from the skies above, wishing to have him all to himself. The same desire that got him into this situation in the first place. Annoyed with himself for wanting something so degrading for himself, he tried to replace the feelings with anger and contentment. But all he could feel was the pain in his joints from being trapped in such a compact position for so long and the pent-up sexual frustration in his pelvis. And all he could do was sit there in his emerald prison, listening to Karl's mewling and the crack of a paddle against soft skin and the teasing words of the other two men as they used Karl to please themselves. One in his mouth and the other in his ass.

To say Dream was strong headed was an understatement. He was perhaps the embodiment of stubbornness. He slowly came to the realization that the only way out of his predicament was to give into the will of the collar’s curse. To again go through with the ritual his mortal had used him for. To let another person drain him of his mana. And here he had three willing participants. His desperation grew greater with each moan Karl made. Each strike of the paddle Quackity wielded. Each praise Sapnap uttered. As the green, aphroditic mist clouded everyone’s eyes.

“Sapnap,” Dream uttered breathlessly.

“What is it Dream?” Sapnap asked as he panted, continuing to thrust in and out down Karl’s throat.

“I know how to end the curse,” Dream said. “You…have to take my essence from me.”

“One second- Ah!” Sapnap stuttered as he came into Karl’s mouth.

He lurched his hips down sinking himself deeper into Karl. Karl gulped down his hot load making sure to lap up every last drop.

“Oh, me too,” Quackity whimpered as he came in Karl’s ass.

Karl moaned and shuttered as Quackity wrapped a hand around his boner and jerked him off as he came. Karl was quick to finish himself. His cum splattering across his chest and the bedsheets. The three panted and sighed and relaxed into one another as they rode out their simultaneous orgasms.

Dream watched through his one uncovered eye. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment about intruding on such a private moment between lovers. He didn’t understand what the gut-wrenching feeling was that welled up inside his chest as he watched the men’s expressions as they doted on one another. All he knew was that he felt left out and it hurt his pride. To be a god, discarded on the other side of a bed. To be a god, and not be the center of desire from every mortal. To be a god, and a slave to the carnal desires only mortals were supposed to be led astray by. He mustered up the courage to voice his desires once again. He had to play mind tricks on himself, though he didn’t realize himself that was what he was doing. He only knew that he was tired and in pain and hungry for attention.

“Take me,” Dream said, rolling over to his side and showing off his impressive boner.

The three men looked at him, their eyes still clouded in the green mist of ecstasy.

“I will grant you some of my power in exchange for freeing me from this curse,” Dream continued.

“Is that role play for please suck my dick?” Sapnap teased.

Dream’s feathery ears shook with embarrassment.

“I-It’s the only way out of this mess,” Dream said flustered. “I’m letting you- this is a great honor I’m bestowing upon- “

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve been waiting for your consent bird boy,” Quackity said, cutting him off.

“Who are you calling bird- Ah!” Dream tried to respond in kind but Sapnap descended upon him, his mouth open wide.

He swallowed Dream up with vigor and rolled his tongue along his length. He swirled his tongue around his tip and took all of him into his mouth, as far down as he could go. Which was all the way to his base. Dream gasped loudly with shock at Sapnap’s skilled work. He didn’t even have time to hold his mana back. A large flood of mana immediately burst forth from him. Sapnap drank up the load and pulled back with surprise as he felt a strange, warm power surge through his body.

He sat up and everyone watched with awe as small wisps of orange flames engulfed his figure.

“Woah,” Sapnap gasped as a small ball of fire burst forth from his palm. “You really weren’t kidding.”

Quackity had just finished untying and cleaning up Karl as the two of them saw fire burst forth from their partner. They sat is awe of their glowing partner.

“Look at me, guys. I’m literally on fire!” Sapnap said excitedly to his two fiancés.

“Sapnap be careful,” Karl cautioned.

“Can you turn it off before you burn down our house?” Quackity asked with worry.

Sapnap concentrated and the flames dissipated from his skin. The ball of fire in his palm shrunk down to a little candle flame on his finger.

“This is so cool,” Sapnap said admiring his new found power.

“It wasn’t enough?” Dream groaned.

The glittering, emerald cage held strong around him and the mist still hung in the air. The only one who was unaffected by it at this point was Sapnap, whose eyes had returned to their natural brown color from the glowing green they had been before.

“I think the two of you may have to as well,” Sapnap mused.

“I wonder what gift you will bestow upon me,” Karl said flirtatiously, leaning into the role play.

He licked at the tip of Dream’s cock, teasing it before taking it into his mouth. Quackity gripped his hair from behind and forced his head down, pushing Dream deep inside his mouth.

“Toys don’t usually move on their own accord,” Quackity teased.

Karl moaned around the cock that stuffed his mouth. He relaxed, letting Quackity take control of his movements. He liked being used as nothing more than a sex doll. Dream groaned with pleasure as Karl bobbed up and down over his cock. Quackity traced a finger around Dream’s asshole and Dream let out a shudder.

“What are you doing?” Dream asked with alarm.

“I want to fuck you,” Quackity said. “You’re an avatar, aren’t you? A god that’s taken a mortal form. I think it’d be hot to fuck a god.”

“How- ngh!- do you know that?” Dream asked through his moans.

“I dunno anything about this whole collar thing Sapnap mentioned, but I know an avatar when I see one. I'm the son of the god of fools,” Quackity explained.

“This sounds more like pillow talk than role play, you guys,” Sapnap joked.

“We’re just getting acquainted. After all, I didn’t know the god of greed would fall so low in his infinite life that he’d be getting his mana drained by mortals through a sex ritual,” Quackity jeered, sliding a finger into Dream’s tight ass.

Dream cried out in shock as Quackity slid in and out at a rapid pace.

“S-stop,” Dream whimpered.

“So, it’s some kind of cnc thing isn’t it, Dream?” Quackity asked. “Such a powerful god would never submit to a mortal unless there was some reason they were forced to. Is that what gets you going? I can't fathom any other reason you’d be wearing all these emerald restraints.”

Quackity slipped another finger in and kept going. Dream wriggled in his bonds. Between Quackity pressing up against his prostate over and over and Karl sucking him off it was hard for him to maintain any focus.

“I… didn’t…” Dream said breathlessly.

“You didn’t what?” Quackity asked.

“I was tricked!” Dream cried. “I didn’t want this to happen!”

The two men stopped what they were doing. Quackity removed his fingers and Karl slipped off of Dream’s dick. They watched as golden tears dripped from Dreams eyes. He didn’t really understand why he was crying but he groaned with frustration as the two stopped what they were doing.

“Are you not enjoying yourself, Dream?” Karl asked.

“Do you want us to stop for real?” Quackity asked.

“No, I-” Dream huffed and shuddered.

He couldn’t stop the tears that came rushing down his face. His many eyes soaked golden tear lines through the white headscarf. Sapnap pulled Dream into his lap and wrapped his strong arms around him. The other two men climbed on to the bed and cuddled up around him. The warm embrace was comforting to Dream. It melted some sort of inner wall he didn’t realize he’d created for himself as he finally started to process what was going on inside of him. Everything broke loose like a flood gate.

“There is no other way to stop this stupid curse!” Dream cried. “I lose all my mana when it’s enacted, I think? I don’t even really know because it’s only happened once before and I can't believe I'm even having to explain myself to mortals. I just want to get this over with but at the same time I'm not, not enjoying myself. I don’t know! It’s a lot. Its all new to me! Having a body. Having this cursed collar. Having… other things that I feel in my chest that make no sense.”

“Feelings?” Karl asked.

“I guess?” Dream sighed.

“Sounds like a lot,” Sapnap said.

“I- god, just fuck me already, I don’t want to be having this conversation,” Dream said, defeated.

“I feel uncomfortable doing so with your consent in question,” Quackity said.

“You have my consent. Just suck me off. I want out of these restraints. It hurts,” Dream sobbed.

Quackity, Karl and Sapnap all looked to one another with unease but they could understand how badly Dream’s body hurt. They all knew he’d been trapped like that for hours at this point.

Karl was the first to cautiously return to what he’d been doing. He took Dream into his mouth and masterfully trailed his tongue along his length. His head bobbed up and down and Dream moaned with pleasure through his sniffles. He felt his mana well up within his pelvis and he gave in to the release this time. It felt as if his mind had broken. He understood that he was not the winner of this game. He would never be. He knew that now. He was a toy for others to enjoy and he was no longer the god of greed. He was the fallen avatar of charity. Giving away his mana to others. Bestowing gifts of godhood upon them. That was his purpose now. At least it felt good. His whole body shivered with delight as he released his load. A warmth spread within him. It was an addictive feeling. He relaxed into his new role.

Sapnap and Quackity watched as Karl’s body glowed with yellow light. He closed his eyes and when he opened them, they did not return to their natural copper color. But they did not stay green like they were due to the mist. They remained a glowing yellow. A single tear ran down his cheek and Quackity scooped him up into his arms.

“Are you okay, my love?” He asked.

Karl blinked and looked into Quackity’s eyes with confusion.

“Was that real?” Karl said with a dazed expression.

“Was what real?” Quackity asked with concern.

“I think he’s still in subspace,” Sapnap teased.

“You’re right here with us, Karl. You just had some god tier dick,” Quackity said.

“What power did you give him?” Sapnap asked Dream.

“I don’t know how it works,” Dream said.

“What power did you receive?” Sapnap asked Karl.

“I don’t know…” Karl said.

“Well, your eyes are yellow,” Quackity said.

“Are they?” Karl asked.

“Yeah,” Sapnap confirmed.

Dream groaned, “It’s still not enough…”

“Of course, it wouldn’t be for the god of greed,” Quackity pestered. “My turn I guess.”

He passed Karl over to Sapnap who exchanged him for Dream. Quackity bent over and took Dream into his mouth.

“Ah!” Dream cried. “Too much! It’s too sensitive! Ouch! Ah!”

Quackity let up and ran his hand across his dick. Dream twitched and strained against his bonds.

“Please! it’s too much. It hurts,” Dream pleaded.

“Well, what do you expect me to do? the ritual isn’t over. Your magic is still messing with my head. I'm hard as a rock over here too,” Quackity said.

Dream looked up at Quackity. He had his hands on his hips and indeed a hard on. He looked away shyly, his cheeks burned. He knew what he wanted him to do but he couldn’t make himself say it. Quackity knew as an experienced dom when a submissive wants something but doesn’t have the gall to ask for it. it was usually a brat thing. He leaned over the bed placing his arms on either side of Dream. Their heads inches apart from one another.

“Well go on, tell me what you want,” Quackity said in a commanding tone.

“Th-the thing you were doing… with your fingers… there was a spot… it felt good,” Dream stuttered.

“Hah! Are you asking me to fuck you?” Quackity said, tormenting him. “The god of greed wants my cock? I guess I should be flattered.”

“Ah, shut up and fuck me already!” Dream growled.

“You don’t tell me what to do, slave. In fact, you’re the one whose about to shut the fuck up,” Quackity said crawling onto the bed and straddling dream’s head.

“What are you-?” Dream managed to fumble only a few words out of his mouth before Quackity filled it with his cock.

“You wanna call yourself a god when you’re nothing more than my cock warmer?” Quackity sneered as he gripped a wad of Dream’s hair and forced him down onto his cock.

Dream choked on his dick. Golden tears welling up in his one uncovered eye. Quackity grinded into him roughly.

“You like it all rough don’t you,” Quackity continued to torment him. “Just like what I was saying before. There was some truth to it all wasn’t there, whore?”

Dream’s muffled grunts were all he was getting in return. The aphrodisiac effects heightened and his eye looked melty as it starred up at Quackity.

“You’re so turned on right now, the magic is getting heavier. I can see it,” Quackity said.

He popped himself out of Dream’s mouth to let him breath. Dream gasped for breath as Quackity got back off the bed. He grabbed his bottle of lube and lathered up his hands and dick. Dream jerked as Quackity slip his fingers in him once more and thrusted in and out.

“You’re loosening up already,” Quackity teased. “It feels different than that of a mortal’s ass. I bet it’s only here for fucking you since avatars don’t need to eat or shit.”

Dream moaned as Quackity’s fingers reached that sweet spot over and over. he got another finger in and another until his whole hand was sinking into his ass knuckles deep. He pulled out and gently thrust in with his dick. He got all the way in and thrusted at a rhythmic pace. Dream’s eye rolled back into his head as he embraced the feeling of ecstasy that ran through his whole body. Within minutes his mana was leaking out onto his pelvis. Quackity kept going. He had a lot of stamina and he wasn’t nearly there himself. Dream’s body quivered with carnal delight. Nothing ran through his mind other than the feeling of letting go and enjoying himself. He didn’t even feel the pain in his joints. Just the pressure of the restraints holding him together. It only added pleasure to his experience. There was no where to run. There was no way to run. All he could do was submit to his reality and enjoy the feeling that came with it.

As Quackity thrusted into Dream he watched the mana seep from his cock and a new found desire to lap it all up entered his mind. He desired nothing more than to taste the sweet nectar and feel the rush of power it would give him. He wondered what would happen to him since he was already a demi-god. Would he ascend to the realm of the gods? He didn’t really want that since he was finally happy with the life, he had made for himself in this world.

His mind drifted back to his own pleasure. It definitely felt different to fuck an avatar than it did a mortal. It was softer and tighter. It felt more like a pussy than it did an ass. He bowed his head down and licked at the mana pool that formed in the scoop of Dream’s hips. It tasted sweet like honey and filled his body with warmth and ecstasy. He felt the wings on his back growing stronger and stretching out behind him. The sensation of power drove him into his climax and he rode out the waves of pleasure.

“Woah Quackity, your wings!” Karl gasped.

Quackity finished and slid out of Dream. He was hot and sweaty and he looked up into the reflection of himself in the window above the bed. Night was already falling on the kingdom and the reflection of the lanterns in the room allowed him to see himself. His eyes widened with shock and the next thing he felt was the strong gust of wind his wings created as he flapped them.

They had grown from the small, useless extra appendages he had on his back into large draping golden wings that he felt could support his whole-body weight. He tested his theory and managed to hover off the ground for a few seconds. It was too cramped in the house to fully test his ability but it was exciting even still.

“I can fly!” Quackity exclaimed.

The green emerald tendrils unwove themselves around Dream and returned to the original state of being a collar. Dream was finally free. He stretched his sore arms and legs and swiveled his wrists and ankles around in small circles. A clarity came into his mind as the mist cleared the room. He felt enraged with himself for having thought all those things about himself when he was under the influence of the mist.

A toy for others to use? Fallen avatar of charity? Enjoying being degraded and pleasured by mere mortals?

Dream stood up abruptly and walked out of the room. The only thought on his mind now was how he was going to seek revenge against the mortal that forced him into this position.

“Hey, where are you going?” Sapnap called after him, following close behind.

“I have something I must do,” Dream said.

“You don’t want to stay the night? it’s dangerous out there,” Sapnap said.

“I’ll be fine,” Dream said.

“Let me at least get you some clothes and gear,” Sapnap said.

“Very well. It’s the least you could give me as compensation for the torment you and your partners put me through,” Dream snapped.

“Did you really not enjoy yourself that much?” Sapnap asked.

“It was a means to an end,” Dream said folding his arms.

“Well, I'm sorry it had to happen like that then,” Sapnap said with a dejected look on his face.

He went off to a chest and rummaged through it for some clothes and gear. Dream felt a stinging sensation in his chest and a weird feeling of wanting to reach out his hand to Sapnap. He gripped his wrist and scowled instead. Sapnap returned with a green hoodie, black pants, some leather armor and an iron sword.

“You’re welcome to use our bath to clean yourself off if you want,” Sapnap said. “And if you need anything, you know where I live so, feel free to come back if you need anything.”

Dream took the clothes and gear from Sapnap and walked over to the bathroom Sapnap pointed out. He was tired, very tired, and very sore. He welcomed the warmth of the water over his body. He sank into the tub and unwrapped the head scarf from his eyes. He could finally see clearly again. The room was too bright for him to fully open all of his eyes but about half of them were enough. As he sat in the tub and wondered about where he would go to find George, he slowly nodded off to sleep.

Sapnap wandered into the bathroom about thirty minutes later to prepare himself for bed. He found Dream asleep in the tub and did his best to get him dried and into bed without waking him.

The four all slept the night away peacefully. And in the morning Dream wrapped the freshly washed head scarf around his eyes and took off on his journey, fully clothed and protected with a sword at his side.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

The Young Knight

Rumors of a series of robberies made their way around the kingdom. A man in a green hoodie with white wraps obscuring his face. Some say he stole food. Others say it was armor and weapons. Some even claimed their precious gems and gold had been taken. Nothing was officially confirmed until the king’s guard put up wanted posters around the town. A half stack of gold was the price on his head. And one young and rambunctious knight set out for the prize hoping the capture would gain him a promotion from the lowly gatekeeper he was to a well-respected policeman. 

Tommy set out on the town. He'd spent his morning sitting at his bench sharing breakfast with his best friend before he had to go off to his government job. The nation they re-built together after L'Manburg fell to the greater Dream Kingdom was bustling and busy with all sorts of activity today. It was no longer an independent nation but still the largest town with the highest population within the Dream Kingdom.

At first, Tommy had thrown a fit when he was brought before King Eret due to allegations of property damage... again. Instead of being imprisoned like his brother, he was shocked to hear Eret grant him a position within the newly established parliament she created in the wake of January 16th. He didn't want to be a part of a government the second biggest traitor to L'Manburg was trying to create. He had decided to continue stealing and pranking those who wronged the citizens of old L'Manburg. Because even though his own brother had become the biggest traitor the nation they built together, at least he would continue to keep its spirit alive. But, to Tommy's surprise, when his best friend Tubbo stepped forward announcing his allegiance to the parliament, he set aside his own pride to dedicate himself to the heart of his spirit. He was knighted and made gatekeeper of the kingdom. A lame job really. Sitting in a small booth at the entrance of the kingdom's walls, taking a small tax from travelers who sought entry. Tubbo mentioned in private that Eret was testing his allegiance with this position. And also, he was being punished to a certain degree for the fact that he was part of a rebellion that created and destroyed its own nation and also all of the property damage his "pranks" left behind. If he could get through the mundanity of his new job and maybe also catch this new criminal on the loose, Eret would grant him a higher position. One where he was working closer to Tubbo's side.

Tommy strode through the town square munching on an apple. Towns people milled about. A bakery had a sale on freshly baked cookies. People were trading supplies and precious gems. Children ran through the square splashing water at each other from the lake the city was built over. The crashing sound of a window breaking and the angry cries of a villager caught Tommy's attention. He swiveled his head spotting a blur of green and shining iron. He took up the chase, darting over a pile of barrels and crates and swerving down the narrow alleyway the green and white blob had scuttled down. He caught the sight of a boot disappearing over the rooftop a dirt tower had been built up to. He threw down his own dirt tower and hopped onto the roof. The green blob looked more like a tall person now that he was closer to him. He looked back to see who was chasing him but all Tommy could make out of his face was that it was wrapped in some sort of bandage.

He gave chase and the two raced over the rooftops. Dream stopped to shoot a few arrows before he lept over to the next roof. Tommy rolled out of the way of the first one and caught the other two in his shield. He was a terrible shot. And the break had given Tommy the upper hand as he closed the distance between them. Dream very nearly dodged the tip of Tommy's diamond sword, falling into a line of laundry hung between the houses and swinging through the window of the next house. Tommy dropped down onto the balcony and vaulted through the window after him. He swung his sword wildly hoping to catch the man in the shoulder. He missed and swung into a sturdy support beam in the house. His fire aspect sword igniting the wood. 

"Whoops!" Tommy exclaimed before running after the man in green.

The fire started spreading around the house but Tommy didn't even notice, hist focus narrowed in on his prize. He would catch the green bandit no matter what. He could deal with anything else afterwards. He ran down the stairs after the man and lunged at his back plunging his blade deep into his shoulder. Dream cried out in pain as the hot blade burned through his flesh. The two stumbled through the doorway and plunged into the soft dirt road. Villagers looked towards the commotion with worry. Dream struggled under the weight of Tommy's fully armored body. 

"I've got you now, mister thief!" Tommy shouted triumphantly.

"I'm on fire man! Are you a lunatic?" Dream spat between painful cries.

"Are you going to resist arrest?" Tommy asked, scrunching his face into an intimidating stare.

"No, I surrender! Just put out the fire," Dream pleaded.

Tommy yanked his sword out of Dream's shoulder and Dream screamed in pain again. Tommy then pulled out a bucket of water and dumped it on Dream. The fire was put out and he immediately scooped the water back up before it spread too far. The village onlookers all scattered, fearing the serious cruelty the town guard was showing a lowly thief. 

A tall, four-legged, creeper hybrid clad in golden armor strode up to Tommy as he sloppily coiled ropes around his captive.

"Tommy," He said, looking at the disaster of a half burnt down house. "What happened here?"

"Sam!" Tommy cheered. "I've apprehended the thief."

"You don't say," Sam sighed.

A few extra guards caught up to Sam. They looked quite out of breath trying to keep up with the fast-paced avatar. Sam ordered them to put out the fire and they rushed to the house; buckets full of water.

"He tried to kill me!" Dream cried to Sam.

Sam looked down at the thief with a curious scowl. Dream shrunk away from his intense stare. His dark scalars and shining green eyes were much like his own.

"I did not," Tommy scoffed. "That scar's nothing. A single golden apple and you'll be fine."

"You think he has one Tommy?" Sam asked.

"If he hasn't stolen one already, he can have one of mine," Tommy said.

He stood up, yanking Dream up with him. Sam sighed. He knew Tommy's skewed view of the value of items was due to his infamous older brother's great wealth. An anarchist whose net worth was far greater than any king or even kingdom in existence today. A wanted man the new government was working furiously to track down and bring to justice. Unbeknownst to Tommy however. Despite both his brothers being some of the most dangerous criminals in the country, he was still one of the only people who would stand by and defend them.

The three made their way to Eret’s castle and Dream was knelt before the throne.

"For the crimes of theft, resisting arrest and destruction of property, I sentence you to a year imprisonment," Eret finally said at the end of the hearing.

And just like that, Dream was carried off to the castle's prison by Sam and locked up in a cell. 

“So…” A coy voice said from the corner of the room. “They finally gave me a roomie.”

Dream turned to see a pile of dirt vaguely shaped like a man in the corner of his cell. No, not a pile of dirt per se. It was indeed a man. A disheveled and grimy looking man with brown curly hair, a bit of scruff on his chin, and a long brown coat covered in dirt and stains. An old patch was partially torn off on one of his shoulders. It looked like some sort of flag with a black part and a yellow X and three stripes: one blue, one white and one red. And two red X’s going down the middle. The man looked at him through round, golden glasses. He smelled as stale as he looked.

“Pleasure to meet you, I’m Wilbur Soot,” He said, stretching out his fingerless glove covered hand towards Dream.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

The Ex-President

Dream stared at the disheveled man with judgmental eyes, his face scrunched up in displeasure. Not only did he look like he’d never once taken a bath in his life, but he smelled like it too. Wilbur rescinded his hand catching the feeling that the green hooded man was not all that eager to shake it.

“What are you in for then?” Wilbur asked, slumping back against the wall.

“I’ve been wrongfully accused,” Dream said with a chip on his shoulder.

He turned away from Wilbur with his arms crossed and eyed the bars of the cell. He was imprisoned again. Not by his curse this time but it was all the same to him. What was the deal with that? It was almost like someone wanted to see him locked up over and over again.

Perhaps a certain newly ascended god was pulling the strings, he mused.

He tried his best to defend himself in court. But apparently “having a divine right to take what he wanted because he was the avatar of The Green God of Greed” was not a valid argument.

It was ridiculous really. He did have a right to take the items he stole. This world belonged to him. This nation was named after him. They even had a church devoted to him. Sure, he wasn’t going through the formality of waiting for mortals to give him their tributes in his church. But did that really matter anymore? Since he could walk among them now, they should feel honored to even be in his presence.

But it was always the same story. He would show up demanding tribute and he would be promptly chased out. No one believed that he was who he said he was. Many asked for proof but because of the collar, his godly powers seemed to be sealed away. He could no longer conjure lightning or procure any resource of the world with a single thought. He could no longer fly or speak directly into the minds of mortals. All he had to show for his divinity were his many green eyes and fluffy winged ears. But revealing those to mortals made them instantly fear him and drive him away with swords and axes and torches.

So of course, he had to resort to stealing. And if he had a divine right to what he took, was it really stealing? And on top of that he was charged for destruction of property. Sure, maybe he broke a few windows and piled up dirt along the sides of houses. But the biggest property damage he was charged with wasn’t even something he did! It was that rambunctious blond kid clad in iron armor. It was the house that he destroyed trying to apprehend him. It wasn’t Dream’s fault, it was Tommy’s. But he was charged with it anyways under the pretense of “resisting arrest” to make the home owners happy and get that kid off the hook because he worked for the government. It was completely unfair.

So here he stood behind bars. Locked in a cell with a familiar looking mortal who smelled like smoke and looked like ash.

“I’d like to say I’ve been wrongfully accused as well but, I really am guilty for what I did,” Wilbur said.

Dream ignored the man. He reached a hand out to the bars and gave them a firm shake. They barely budged an inch. In a fit of rage Dream kicked the bars and walked over to the other wooden bench across from his cellmate. He sat down with a huff and crossed his arms and legs.

“Do you mind me asking why you’re wearing bandages across your face?” Wilbur asked.

“I do mind,” Dream said curtly.

“You’re not a very chatty person, are you?” Wilbur asked.

Dream said nothing. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall.

“You seem familiar to me for some reason. You remind me of someone,” Wilbur thought aloud.

“I don’t care,” Dream said.

A loud screeching sound came from down the hall. The large doors to the castle dungeon swung open and closed. Dream heard the clicking of heels on the stone floor approaching his cell. King Eret stopped in front of Dream’s cell. Her clothes were pristinely clean.

She wore a long red cape adorned with golden embellishments along the hem. A cream colored, silk shirt fitted snugly around her bust with lacy trim and wavy layers of fabric curved around his cleavage. Crisp brown trousers and high heeled leather boots completed the outfit and of course a shining golden crown sat in their curly brown hair. The only thing that looked out of place were the dark shades she wore over her eyes. Even though Dream had only ever seen him inside, he never took them off.

“So, The Green God of Greed has finally decided to walk amongst his people,” Eret said, placing a hand on her hip.

Dream stared daggers at the King through his one uncovered eye. He got up from his seat and stood in front of Eret on the other side of the bars with his arms crossed.

“If you truly understand who you are speaking to then I demand that you release me this instant,” Dream ordered.

“I'm afraid I can't do that. Now that you walk amongst us you must live by our laws. Not even avatars are exempt from the law,” Eret said.

“How is it that you have the authority to enforce such laws? You, a mere mortal, defying a god’s demand?” Dream asked sourly.

Eret smirked with a little huff and lifted a hand up to their tinted glasses. He lowered his glasses and peered directly into Dream’s eye with her blank, white, glowing stare. Dream uncrossed his arms and took a small step back as he recognized the eyes of Herobrine’s descendant. Eret covered her eyes once again and smiled.

“Welcome to the overworld, Dream. This is how I run things. Perhaps you were placed here to learn a lesson or two about the tyranny you cause from afar,” Eret said.

Dream composed himself and smiled innocently. “I’m sorry, what tyranny are you referring to? I’ve never once broken the laws of the End. I’m but a mere spectator from afar.”

“You’re a younger god so you don’t know what the world was like before my father was crowned king. And while your meddling in the affairs of the overworld have gone under the radar so far, since you use mortals to do your dirty work, I will not allow you to get away with anything nefarious as you walk amongst my people. So, enjoy your visit to the overworld from the seat of this cell. And hopefully you’ll have learned your lesson by the time your allowed to walk free again,” King Eret said.

She turned to leave. Her boots clacking against the stone floor as she left. The large dungeon doors swung open and closed again with a metallic screech. Dream sat back down on the wooden bench.

“So, you’re an avatar?” Wilbur said.

“What’s it to you?” Dream asked.

“Oh, nothing really,” Wilbur said with a grimace and a dark chuckle to himself. “But I believe you’ve helped me in the past.”

“I’ve done no such thing,” Dream huffed.

“Right, right, of course,” Wilbur conceded.

The two sat in silence for a while. Wilbur returned to his pastime of etching carvings into the walls with a stick he had. Dream looked around the room for the first time and noticed there were many different sized carvings of rectangular shapes and long sentences of song lyrics written across the walls.

Wilbur finished carving a small rectangle into the wall and slammed his fist against it making an audible explosion noise with his mouth. He chuckled to himself. His eyes glossed over as if he were somewhere else in his mind’s eye.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Dream asked with irritation.

“Did you know I once blew up a nation and killed everyone?” Wilbur responded; his eyes still dazed.

His eyes wandered across the room lazily until they found Dream’s eye. The two starred through each other for a while. Dream recalled the joy of watching a little nation that tried to gain independence from his kingdom blown to bits by its own founder.

“Ah, so that was you then?” Dream sighed.

He knew the man looked familiar from the start. One of the many little puppets he toyed with from afar. He was right that he indeed helped the man out. He was the one who supplied him with the ammunition to destroy his own nation. But that’s all this mortal was to him. A chess piece. A toy. An insignificant ant he could crush under his thumb. The only mortal that ever drew his attention the most was his mortal with the blue and brown eyes. The one that tricked him. The one who cursed him. The one to blame for his current imprisonment. He had to get to that church. He needed to have a stern talk with the newly ascended god. And to do that he needed to break out of here fast.

“Yes. Truly an act of hubris on my part,” Wilbur said.

Dream snapped out of his daydreaming with panic. “No!” He gasped, standing up from the bench.

The collar around his neck glowed a bright green and many long, emerald, vines sprouted from it. Dream lifted his arms up over his head trying to get away from the vines but his attempts were in vain. The vines quickly wrapped themselves around the fallen god’s arms and legs and then wove themselves into the chains that held the wooden bench to the wall. Dream fell to his knees as the vines tightened themselves together around his thighs and ankles.

Wilbur watched with shock as the man before him was prostrated across the bench in front of him. A green mist filled the room and Wilbur’s dark brown eyes glowed green. A smile spread across his face and his eyes settled into a dazed trance.

“Ah fuck, not again,” Dream groaned. “How is that word so commonly used?”

Even though he knew it was futile, Dream tested the strength of his bonds. He tried tearing his arms away from the bench chains but his arms were spread so wide he didn’t have much leverage against the vines.

“What’s going on? Why are you all… like that? And why do I suddenly feel… very horny… especially for you,” Wilbur said, clutching his pants.

“Ah, whatever. Let’s get this over with,” Dream sighed to himself before looking up at Wilbur. “You were right, I did help you. I was the one who supplied you with the TnT. Now you owe me for that. And you will repay your debt right now.”

“Yes, I am in your debt,” Wilbur said with an eager smile, his cheeks turning red. “How can I repay you?”

“Come here mortal,” Dream commanded.

Wilbur got up from his seat and knelt down in front of Dream.

“You’re filthy and disgusting,” Dream sneered. “If it weren’t for this curse, you would never in a million years receive the honor of being allowed to touch me. You hear me?”

“If you keep degrading me like that, I think I might cum,” Wilbur said with a smirk.

“Listen mortal, I am a god and you are nothing but an insignificant toy that lives only to bring me joy.” Dream continued. “And right now, I demand that you use that filthy mouth of yours to please me.”

“Mm yes, my Deity,” Wilbur said.

Wilbur undid the buttons of Dream’s pants and his erection bounced up. He eagerly descended upon the fallen god like a ravenous dog. He dug his fingers into Dream’s exposed hips, grabbing hold and plunging his cock deep down his throat. Dream groaned at the pain of Wilbur’s fingernails digging into his skin. He wasn’t surprised by the animalistic hunger in Wilbur’s eyes as he took him into his mouth. It was fitting for a scruffy man like he was.

Wilbur’s head was good. It felt so very nice. He rolled his tongue around in his mouth as he sucked as if trying to milk his mana out of his cock. Dream felt the familiar sensation of his power swelling up in his pelvis. He felt his mind slipping back into the trance he fell into each time the ritual was enacted. The deep desire to have control taken away from him. The need to have his powers drained from him. The feeling of ecstasy that came with every stroke of his cock and every touch of his body. He yearned for more. He desired more. His greed took a hold of him.

“You’re not pleasing me well enough, you dirty mutt.”

Wilbur lifted his head up off of Dream’s cock with a pop. “I was trying to be nice and gentle since we don’t know each other all that well. But if you’re calling me a mutt, I guess you wouldn’t mind me being a little more feral then?”

Wilbur dug his nails into Dreams hips roughly and scratched down his sensitive skin. Dream groaned in pain, wriggling against his bonds. Wilbur noticed that the emerald vines didn’t wrap themselves around Dream’s torso. They ran along his arms and slid down his back and wrapped around his thighs and ankles but his chest was open. Only covered by his green hoodie.

“Green used to be my favorite color for so long,” Wilbur said gripping at the middle of Dream’s hoodie. “But I hate it now. I guess I got sick of looking at it for so long...”

Wilbur gripped the cotton hoodie with his jagged nails and tore the hoodie apart exposing Dream’s chest.

“Hey!” Dream gasped in shock.

Wilbur ignored his protests and narrowed in on his nipples. He bit down hard on the soft pink skin and flicked his tongue between his teeth as he scratched down Dream’s torso with his fingernails. Dream gasped at the sudden intensity of pain and pleasure. He cried out as his mind was overwhelmed with sensations. The scratching, the biting, the licking. The pain and pleasure mixed like a beautiful symphony. Wilbur moved on to his other nipple and again the shock of pain sent shivers down Dream’s spine. He braced against the emerald vines, the only thing stopping him from grabbing a fist full of Wilbur’s hair.

Wilbur moved up to his neck and pulled the shoulder of his hoodie down. He bit into his neck and sucked at the soft skin. Dream cried out again. It was painful and jarring but as soon as Wilbur let go a rush of relief washed over his nervous system and he craved the pain again. Wilbur continued his attack on Dream’s flesh. He bit him over and over, leaving several dark bruises and teeth marks along his shoulders and neck and pecks. He scratched at his stomach over and over leaving raised marks and reddened skin. He dug in so deep sometimes that golden blood dripped from the wounds and Dream watched as he licked it all up.

“You know, I haven’t had this much fun since I was locked up,” Wilbur said. “Well, there was one-time Quackity came to visit me and fucked me through the bars while Sam wasn’t looking. But it’s been quite some time since anyone has come to visit me.”

“Ah, shut up and get back to work,” Dream said breathlessly.

Wilbur drew back for a second and slapped Dream across the cheek. Dream looked at Wilbur with bewilderment. The stinging sensation still fresh on his cheek.

“For someone whose all tied up you sure like calling the shots,” Wilbur said. “I don’t mind being told what to do, but I do also really like when the roles reverse.”

Dream tensed against his bonds feeling vulnerable and exposed. Wilbur dragged his sharp nails across his skin from shoulder to pelvis. Raising the sensitive skin that was already raw from previous scratches.

 “And you’re all tied up and helpless,” Wilbur continued, leaning in close to Dream's face. “What could you possibly do to stop me from doing literally anything to you right now?”

Wilbur grabbed at both of Dream's legs and hoisted him up onto the bench. He couldn’t take his pants off because the vines were in the way so he took hold of the tight fabric and ripped a hole in the middle of his pants, exposing Dream's cheeks and asshole.

“H-Hey!” Dream protested.

“Oh, shut up,” Wilbur cut him off. “Some god you are, can't even stop me from taking control of you. It’s my turn to get some pleasure out of this exchange,” He undid the buttons of his pants and whipped out his erect penis.

It was large and girthy. Dream's eyes widened at the sight. Wilbur ripped off one of his gloves with his teeth and licked his fingers.

“You can't—,” Dream protested.

Wilbur plunged his fingers into Dream's ass. Dream moaned at the pleasure he felt as Wilbur’s fingers rocked back and forth. It was a lot rougher because of the minimal lubrication but something about the roughness felt good to Dream. He didn’t even notice when exactly Wilbur slid in another finger and another. He only noticed a difference when he started trying to force his hand in past his knuckles.

“Ah! That hurts!” Dream cried out.

“Yeah? Oh, that sucks for you. Really, I do sympathize,” Wilbur said mockingly.

He ripped the glove off his other hand and spat onto his hand before wrapping it around Dream's cock. He stroked him up and down and rolled his fingers around the very tip. Dream sighed with pleasure, allowing himself to be defiled by the man.

“You’re disgusting,” Dream groaned as Wilbur spat on his fingers again.

“And you’re a little bitch god,” Wilbur retorted. “You like being defiled and degraded by me, don’t you? This shit turns you on, doesn’t it?”

Dream groaned. He couldn’t deny it. He was feeling good. He wanted to blame it all on the aphrodisiac mist but he knew keep down this was something he needed. Something he craved. Something he desired. The moment Wilbur took control from him he thought he needed to fight back for the sake of his pride. But deep down, he didn’t feel like he wanted to. It was almost a relief that Wilbur had taken control.

Wilbur gently pushed his hand further in to Dream's ass and slowly but surely, he passed his knuckles. His whole hand was slowly sucked into his loosening ass and he rubbed his fingers back and forth, pressing up against his prostate. Dream moaned audibly as the pleasure of being filled washed over his whole body. Wilbur continued stroking his cock and the dual sensations were enough to make his mana drip out from the tip of his cock.

Wilbur chuckled at him. “Oh, look at you, dripping all over my hand. And you call me the filthy one?”

Wilbur pulled his hand out of Dream's ass slowly and rubbed his own cock. He leaned down and spit on Dream's entry way.

“N-no you’re too big,” Dream whined as Wilbur readied himself.

“You can take it,” Wilbur said and plunged his cock into Dream unceremoniously.

Dream felt himself being filled with cock and the sensation was something he hadn’t experienced before. He’d taken dick before but this one gave him an odd sensation of being stretched. It was a little painful but it was mostly pleasurable. In the same way that the biting and scratching had been. And Wilbur didn’t give him any time to think about it. He fucked into him with vigor. Ramming hard into his prostate and beyond it. Dream couldn’t stop the whimpers and moans that left his lips.

“Oh, fuck that feels good,” Wilbur sighed.

He pumped in and out, pushing Dream up against the wall with each thrust. He dug his fingers into Dream's hips like claws and leaned down to growl in his ear.

“You are my prey and I am going to ravish you until you can’t bear the pain and pleasure anymore and then I'm going to continue fucking you until you’re so overstimulated, you’re crying my name with tears falling down your cheeks,” Wilbur whispered into his ear.

He bit down hard on Dream's nipple again and Dream cried out in pain. He bit him over and over, small bites that pinched at his skin and left little red marks everywhere. He mixed in some longer, stronger bites as well. Ones that left welts and bruises. And he scratched at him, all along his torso until he was bleeding from nearly every wound. And then he licked up the blood and bit into the wounds causing Dream as much pain as he could. It wasn’t long before Dream was crying golden tears down his cheeks and Wilbur licked them up as well.

“My, my, look at what a mess you are,” Wilbur chuckled.

“W-Wilbur p-please… Wilbur please,” Dream begged and whimpered.

“Aww, please what? What is it, my pet?” Wilbur cooed.

“I need to cum,” Dream whimpered. “Please suck me off…”

Dream's legs were shaking and his erection was covered in a thin layer of slick mana. Wilbur grabbed a hold of his cock and started rubbing it aggressively.

“Aw, you wanna cum? You wanna cum? Is that it? I’ll let you cum. Go on then, cum for me,” Wilbur mocked him.

Dream moaned as the well of mana in his pelvis spewed forth like a dam breaking. Even through his orgasm Wilbur kept pumping his cock and fucking into his ass.

“Ah! Ah! Willbur, it’s too much! It’s too much!” Dream cried.

Wilbur cackled. “Oh, poor you, I don’t care! I haven’t cum yet so the fun doesn’t stop until I do.”

“AH, no! Please! Please I’m begging you, s-stop!” Dream cried, tears running down his face.

He squirmed around in his bonds trying to get away but he couldn’t. He was trapped and completely at the mercy of his captor. And his captor was cruel. Wilbur kept going and it hurt like hell. The pleasure of being fucked mixed with the pain of overstimulation. He felt like he was cumming over and over consecutively but nothing was actually draining out since he was already dry.

“Wilbur please!” Dream cried.

“Mm yes, beg for me more, I might just cum from your screams,” Wilbur said.

Dream cried and whimpered and moaned and repeated Wilbur’s name over and over again in his plea for mercy and finally Wilbur came in him. Dream felt the hot cum fill inside of him and made the raw pumping of Wilbur’s dick a little more bearable. He pressed deep into Dream's cavity filling him to the very base of his cock. He mindlessly rubbed the tip of Dream's cock roughly and sighed with pleasure from the cries he produced from Dream. He watched Dream twitch and strain against the bonds underneath him with a greedy smile.

Wilbur slid out with ease after he was finished and the green glow left his eyes. He bent down and took Dream's cock into his mouth, lapping up all the mana that had spilled out. The vines slowly retracted back into the collar and Dream finally managed to grab Wilbur by the hair and pull him off of him.

“Wilbur stop, stop, I can't take it anymore,” Dream whined.

Wilbur chuckled and licked the mana off of his fingers. And like everyone who drank up his mana, he felt power surge across his body. His hands glowed a bright red color. Tiny particles like gunpowder swirled around and formed small blocks of TnT in his palms.

“Woah…” Wilbur whispered.

He snapped his finger and a small explosion went off in his palm.

“Woah! Dream do you know what this means? We can get out of here,” Wilbur whispered the last sentence.

Dream was busy assessing the situation with his clothes. He had a torn hoodie and torn pants with everything hanging out. And he was sticky. He wiped up a much as he could with the useless flap of the hoodie.

“Great. My pants are soiled, my hoodie is soiled, everything is ripped to pieces. This is unwearable!” Dream said, taking off his clothes. “Could you have maybe not done that?”

Dream looked exasperated. His little winged ears flapped with irritation.

“Ah, don’t worry, I’ll get you something to wear. For now, here,” Wilbur said dismissively, taking off his coat. “You can wear this.”

He tossed the coat at Dream and it landed on his head. Dream reeled away from it, holding it at arm’s length.

“You want me to wear your disgusting, crusty coat?” Dream asked with perplexity.

“You’re just a brat aren’t you,” Wilbur said. “This is me trying to be nice, and you don’t appreciate the gesture?”

“Jeez, I’ll wear your stupid coat. Just wherever we’re going there better be a bath I can take and fresh clothes waiting that aren’t completely gross,” Dream said with a huff and he pulled his arms through the sleeves resentfully.

“Wherever we’re going?” Wilbur asked.

“You destroyed the only possessions I had and you took my power too. You’re gonna make it up to me so I'm sticking with you until you pay your tribute, mortal,” Dream snapped.

Wilbur looked at Dream wearing nothing but his face wraps, his emerald collar and his long coat. It was kinda hot. Even if he was a brat, he was pretty easily tamable so Wilbur didn’t really mind the snark. 

“Why do you have that scarf wrapped around your face?” Wilbur asked.

“I have many eyes. I used to have a mask that covered them. I've been told their too creepy to look at,” Dream said.

“What did the mask look like?” Wilbur asked.

“It was made of porcelain and had a jovial expression carved into it,” Dream said.

“I guess your mask had to look happy to hid how grouchy you normally are,” Wilbur joked.

Dream huffed and crossed his arms. “So, when are we getting out of here?”

“Seeing as we just had very loud sex and no one came in to check on us, I bet the one on guard today is Halo, so he’s probably on the other side of those large doors. I'd say this is our best opportunity,” Wilbur said looking through the bars.

He got to his feet and cast out his hand. With a glow of red mana, a block of TnT materialized out of thin air and set itself down under the tiny window of the cell wall. Wilbur snapped his fingers and the TnT ignited.

“Watch out,” Wilbur warned.

The two ducked for cover in the furthest corners of the room as the TnT exploded a giant hole in the wall. They heard the creaking of the dungeon door opening and the footsteps of a flustered guard approaching their cell.

“Follow me! I know somewhere we can lay low,” Wilbur shouted, dashing through the hole in the wall.

Dream followed close behind and the two went running for their lives through the streets of the Dream Kingdom. Guards were on their tail as they wove their way through the busy streets and down back alleys. They made quick work of getting to the kingdom walls and barreled through the gates as they opened up for a traveler trying to enter the city.

“Wilbur?” The shrill voice of a teenager called out after them.

Wilbur turned his head towards the familiar voice but he kept running. The shocked face of his younger brother with his curly, blond hair and bright, blue eyes burned the image into his retinas in the hot sunlight that bore down on them as the two made their break across the country side.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

The Cottage in the Snowy Woods

The two trudged through the dense, snow-covered forest, each step crunching beneath their boots. Wilbur's breath came out in visible puffs of mist as he led the way. Dream shivered as he walked behind him, pulling his coat as tightly as he could around his naked body. The snowy forest began to open up, revealing the two small medieval cottages nestled within it. Wilbur led the way as they trudged towards the front porch, connecting the two buildings. The cottages boasted gleaming white terracotta walls and sturdy spruce wooden logs, topped with matching golden-brown roofs. The house on the left was adorned with square wooden windows that glowed with the warm, flickering light emanating from an indoor fireplace. Wilbur turned up the steps to the front door of the house on the right. The house was dark as they entered. No one was home. Wilbur didn’t bother to light any of the lanterns that hung on the walls, immediately climbing up the ladder to the attic. Dream followed him up, the musty scent of old books and cigarette dust hitting him as his head breached the top of the ladder.

Wilbur walked over to an old chest and rummaged through the contents. He pulled out a small green hoodie, a black unitard, and some dirty white pants.

“Here, some old clothes of mine,” Wilbur said.

Dream had barely entered the room as Wilbur tossed the bundle of clothes at him. He managed to snag the clump of clothes with an awkward, fumbling grab.

“Is this sweater supposed to be so small?” Dream said eying the little green hoodie.

“Yeah, I wore it when I was seven,” Wilbur said

“And you think it’s gonna fit me?” Dream asked.

Wilbur shrugged and rummaged through the chest again. “It’s all I have. Unless you want to wear this old uniform of mine.”

Wilbur held up a frumpy, navy-blue coat with gold embellishments. The coat looked stale and dingy much like the white pants Dream was given. The stench of sweat and dirt he could smell all the way across the room.

“Hard pass,” Dream said.

“Good, it’s rather sentimental to me anyways,” Wilbur said, stuffing the coat back into the chest.

Dream looked down at the dirty pile of laundry in his hands with disdain.

“You have somewhere I can wash these?” Dream asked.

“Mm, downstairs is a kitchen, and through the back is a bath,” Wilbur said, shutting the chest.

“Great,” Dream said, shrugging off the gross, brown coat he had on.

He let the coat drop to the floor before he descended the ladder. Wilbur picked it up and put it back on casually looking out the window. A jolt of surprise ran through him as his eyes focused in on the small, fuzzy, orange face of a fox standing on his hind legs behind a tree. He wore a short black coat, a black leather hat, and a blood-stained butcher's apron.

"Shit," Wilbur cursed under his breath.

Wilbur descended the ladder and walked out of Phil's house onto the front porch but when he looked back at the tree, the fox was gone.

"Well, so much for that I guess," Wilbur sighed to himself before going back inside.

Wilbur looked around at the small living room and kitchen of his father’s house. It had been a long time since he’d stepped foot in here. He immediately went over to raid the fridge for something better than the bland prison food he’d been eating for over a few years now.

“Hi, Mom. I'm home,” He said, looking at the scribbly picture he’d drawn of his mom as a kid that his father still kept pinned to the fridge.

He pulled back the door and leaned in, the cold air blowing in his face. Inside he found some rabbit stew stored in covered wooden bowls, a few glass containers of cooked meat, and a handful of vegetables. Wilbur hastily grabbed a bowl of stew and a piece of beef and greedily scarfed It down as he laid the bowl of stew on the kitchen counter. With quick movements, he grabbed a pot and turned on the stove, dumping the contents of the rabbit stew into the pot to heat up. He sliced off a few pieces of a fresh bun of bread he found on the counter and finding a cupboard full to the brim with honey bottles, generously spread some honey on the slices of bread. Then, he took the rest of the beef he had been munching on, sliced it into bite-sized pieces, and arranged them on top of the honey bread. He devoured the food ravenously, not wasting a single crumb. When he finished his bowl of steaming stew he laid back in his chair with a satisfied sigh.

Dream was still downstairs in the bathroom taking his sweet time. Wilbur took his bowl over to the sink and cleaned it off. It was a shallow bowl. Almost like a plate with upturned edges. He regarded it for a second, his mind coming up with another ingenious idea. He rummaged through some of his dad’s chests looking for crafting supplies. He found an old leather belt and some white paint. He walked over to the crafting table in the corner and set his stuff down. he activated his newly acquired powers and burnt a silly smile into the bottom of the bowl, hollowing out the eyes. he tried the newly made mask on himself to see if it was usable and chuckled to himself with approval. He nailed the broken leather belt to the sides of the dish and tried it on. It fit snugly around his head, resting on his ears for support. It was comfortable, he could see out of it, and most importantly, it covered his whole face. He took it off and finished it off with a coat of white paint. It was a hastily made gift but it was good enough by Wilbur’s standards.

Dream came up the ladder as the paint was just finished drying. He was dressed in a short, green sweater and a black leotard that revealed his freckled skin through cut-out hips. The white pants he wore were slightly low on his hips, emphasizing the curves of his body. In his hands, he carried the torn-up remains of the headscarf Sapnap had given him. All of his eyes except for two remained shut.

“I tried washing it and it ripped…” Dream said with a somber tone.

“No need to worry. I have a gift for you,” Wilbur said cheerily.

He lifted the handmade mask to Dream's face and buckled the straps around his head. It sat a little higher up on his face than it did on Wilbur’s due to his feathered ears being bigger than mortal ears. The only part of his face that was visible however was his chin and mouth. None of his eyes could be seen.

“Perfect,” Wilbur said clasping his hands together in triumph. “Have a look.”

Wilbur gave Dream a hand mirror he fished out of another chest and Dream looked at his reflection. The face of the mask was crudely burned into the wood. It looked like a smile but it definitely fell into an uncanny valley of some kind. But at least he wouldn’t immediately drive mortals mad with fear just by looking at his face.

“It looks stupid,” Dream said.

“You said you used to have a mask with a jovial face on it so I made you a replacement,” Wilbur said defensively.

“It looked better than this,” Dream said, handing the mirror back to Wilbur.

“Well, ‘scuse me for trying then,” Wilbur said reaching to take the mask off.

Dream pulled away from him. “What are you doing?”

“If you don’t like it, you can give it back,” Wilbur said with a huff.

“No. It shall suffice,” Dream said, brushing Wilbur’s arms away.

“You like it, don’t you? You’re just being a brat.” Wilbur said with a cheeky smile.

“No. And I am not a brat. It’s just better than nothing, so I accept your tribute, mortal,” Dream said pulling his hoodie up over his flapping ears.

Wilbur smirked. “Okay, my Deity. Whatever you say.”

Dream crossed his arms and took a seat at the kitchen table. “I have to get to that church in town.”

“You’re gonna wanna lay low for now, at least until everyone forgets about your petty theft and jailbreak,” Wilbur said, he busied himself rummaging around the chests in the room. “You’re welcome to stay here just don’t take anything from the other house. Trust me, you’ll regret it. But my brother has a room in the basement of that house that he doesn’t use anymore, so you’re welcome to it. A guy named Philza lives here, you can let him know that you’re an avatar and he’ll take care of you.”

“Philza…the name sounds familiar,” Dream mused.

“I’m sure it does,” Wilbur said dismissively. “Anyways, I’ve got somewhere I need to be so I’ll be leaving now.”

“Don’t you have to lay low too?” Dream asked.

“Oh, don’t worry about me, my Deity, I’ll be okay,” Wilbur said flashing him a dorky grin.

“I’m not worrying about you,” Dream said defensively.

“Of course, you aren’t. Anyways, see ya,” Wilbur said with a flick of his hand as he walked out the front door.

And then, Dream was alone. For the first time since he fell from the End, he was free and safe. He didn’t really know what to do with himself. He looked around the room and decided to explore the place. He left the house, the heavy door closing with a loud “thunk” behind him. He took in a deep breath of chilly, fresh air and walked around the perimeter of the houses. As he walked around the side of the house he was told not to steal from, he happened upon a bee farm. He watched as they darted in and out of their tiny hives, busy at work. Beyond the bee farm, he could see a large potato farm spanning half the property. He wondered how someone could need so many potatoes but he figured the owner probably sold them in the nearby kingdom. The God of the Harvest must be quite proud of such a dedicated farmer. He knew there was a god of the harvest, but that’s all he really knew about him.

Dream strolled along the back of the houses and stopped short at the sight of a massive wooden shed that housed over a hundred dogs. As he approached, they all turned to face him, jostling over each other to get a closer look. Some wagged their tails in a friendly manner, while others glared at Dream as if he was their next meal. He decided not to engage and went back up the steps to the house. He was curious about this house that he wasn’t allowed to steal from. He entered and almost stumbled back out of the house in terror at the sight of an enderman casually sitting in a boat near the fireplace. Dream quickly averted his gaze from the walking dead and descended the ladder, avoiding the first room altogether. In the second room, there were numerous chests stacked up against the far wall. He tried to take a peek inside but as he tried to approach the three arctic foxes tied up in the middle of the room snap at him viciously. The house's owner must have been a lunatic to keep so many… pets? Or rather, so many ill-tempered creatures. As he descended further, the first thing he noticed was the musty scent of a teenage boy’s den. Yellow terracotta blocks were haphazardly pressed into the dirt and stone walls, and a small red bed sat in one corner with a chest at the end of it.

At least, there were no wild creatures in this room to stop him from snooping so he took a look in the chest. Inside, he found nothing of significant value - just an iron axe, a stack of spruce signs, some music disks, and a set of battered leather armor that carried a musty scent, as if it had been through many battles.

“Gross…” Dream said, closing the chest.

Almost out of spite Dream opened the chest again and took the iron axe. At least he could use it to defend himself. Just then he heard the loud slam of one of the front doors of the houses above him. He crouched in a corner and waited to see what would happen.

“Dad, I'm telling you I saw him. He broke out of prison. What do we do?” The shrill sound of a teenage boy’s voice echoed through the house.

A muddled murmur replied but the voice spoke too softly for Dream to hear from all the way down in the den. Two people were upstairs in the house he was in. A sense of dread crept over him, and he felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead. He was trapped, caught like a rat in a cage. There was no way out without alerting them to his presence, and that was the last thing he wanted. On top of that, he had a feeling he recognized that loud, annoying voice.

One of the people left, the wooden floor creaking under their footsteps as they made their way out the front door. As the sound of footsteps faded away, Dream's heart rate slowed down a bit. But then, he heard the distinct sound of footsteps coming down the ladder, and he gripped the axe in his hand tighter, ready to defend himself.

As Dream readied himself to face the approaching footsteps, a boy with bright blue eyes and blond hair dropped down the last of the ladder steps. Dream's heart raced as he considered his options, but before he could make a move, the boy turned to face him. For a moment, the two stood frozen, staring at each other with a mixture of fear and curiosity. Then, suddenly, the boy let out an ear-piercing scream that forced Dream to cover his ears.

“There's a masked man in my room!” The boy cried.

“Why are you so loud?” Dream hissed.

“Oh hey, you're that thief I caught, aren't you? How did you escape? Did you bust out with my brother? I heard he got out recently. Have you seen him? That's such a creepy mask by the way. Why are you wearing that? I'm telling Phil there's a creep in my room,” The boy asked all his questions at once without even waiting for an answer to any of them.

“I- wait! Slow down. Are you that man's brother?” Dream asked.

The boy pauses halfway up the ladder.

“Wilbur Soot, right?” Dream continued. “He- he told me I could stay here for a bit. He said you don't use this place anymore.”

The boy slid back down the ladder.

“Well, Will is an idiot. He hasn’t been around here in years. You better not have touched my things.”

The boy walked over to inspect his chest.

“I haven't,” Dream lied, dematerializing the axe in his hand.

“What's your name?” The boy spun around to ask him.

“Uh...D-Dream.”

“...That's a stupid name.”

“Excuse me? Well, what's yours then?”

The boy straightened his back and pointed to his chest with his thumb. “Tom Simons. But everyone calls me Tommy.”

“That’s an even stupider name.”

“It is not!”

“Tommy?” The voice of the other person called down the ladder. “I heard screaming are you alright?”

Dream crouched down again, summoning the axe. Tommy, concerned he might do something dangerous called up to his dad.

“Uh-- YES, I'M ALRIGHT DAD! I--uh--I SAW A SPIDER. DON’T WORRY THOUGH I GOT IT!”

“You sure?”

“YEP!”

“Okay.”

The two waited till they hear the man’s footsteps disappear.

“...Is that my axe?” Tommy asked.

“What axe?” Dream said, dematerializing the weapon.

“You said you didn't go through my things!”

“I didn't!”

“Oh. My. God. Nope! You see that doesn't work on me. I am the best thief there is. I know sticky fingers when I see them. Now give it back.”

“...And what if I don’t?”

“...Well, I'll make you then,” Tommy said, materializing a full set of glimmering iron armor, a diamond chest plate, a shield, and an enchanted, diamond sword.

Dream hesitated. As the god of greed, he was not accustomed to giving anyone anything. And this kid was now threatening him? He contemplated fighting the boy, thinking he didn't have to stay here just because Wilbur told him to. Perhaps he could just take the boy's armor and disappear to some remote place, where he could focus on regaining his strength and finding his way back to the church.

“Why are you wearing a collar?” Tommy asked.

“What?” Dream asked, frozen in place by the sudden change of topic.

“Are you like... someone's salve or something?” Tommy asked.

“I am no one's slave!” Dream said defensively.

“Did Will buy you or something? Are you… his slave? That's really weird.”

“What? I am not his slave! I just said I am no one's slave!”

“Then it's kind of a weird thing to just wear a metal collar with a lock on it. That’s made of metal ‘innit? Or are those real emeralds?”

Dream self-consciously places a hand over his neck to hide the collar.

“Will you shut up?”

“Listen, I'm not one to pry into your private life or anything, okay? If you need the axe that's fine. I'm a charitable man, you know.”

“Ugh! This is ridiculous! Take your stupid axe, I don’t need your charity,” Dream said.

He threw the axe onto the floor.

“Oh, thanks man,” Tommy said, picking it back up, happy with himself.

“Just get out of my way, I'm leaving,” Dream said, pushing past Tommy to get to the ladder.

As Dream ascended the ladder Tommy grabbed him by the ankle.

“Hey,” Tommy said trying to get his attention.

“What do you want?” Dream snapped looking back down at him.

“You know, I take that gesture of returning my axe as a sign of our new friendship.”

“Friendship?”

“And I want to thank you as well so here, as a gesture of our new friendship on my part, here, take this man,” Tommy took off the green bandana he was wearing around his neck and presented it to Dream.

“You must not be used to cold weather if you wear metal around your neck for fun. This'll keep you warm though. Also, it's a good way to cover up in case you don’t want people knowing you're a weirdo.”

Dream scowled. He didn’t want to take the bandana but he also never wanted to go through an interaction as intrusive as this one again. Begrudgingly he snatched the bandana from Tommy’s hands.

“This does not make us friends,” Dream said, wrapping the bandanna around his neck.

“You remind me of my other brother,” Tommy said, ascending the ladder after Dream. “He keeps telling everyone we aren't brothers but we definitely are. I think he's just intimidated by my awesomeness.”

“Stop following me,” Dream said curtly.

“He talks just like that. Always tellin' me 'stop following me Tommy', 'leave me alone Tommy', 'your voice is too loud Tommy', 'go bug Wilbur, Tommy' He's really cool though. He taught me how to fight you know? Oh, you woulda been dead if we'd actually gotten into it—just so you know."

The two got up into the main room of the house, the one with the enderman in the boat, and Dream reared on Tommy getting up in his face.

“Shut. Up.” He said, his green eyes glinting through the holes in his mask.

Tommy stared at him for a second. “...That one sounded more like Wilbur. You know, if Phil adopts you and you also become my brother you would fit right in with the two of ‘em.”

Dream crossed his arm. “I'm not your brother and I'm not your friend. I don't care about you or Wilbur or Phil or anyone. I have something I need to do and I am leaving. So don't follow me or I'll kill you.”

“Big words for a small man without armor.”

Dream's eyes burned with anger as he lunged forward and snatched Tommy by the throat, slamming him against the wall with a fierce grip. The boy struggled and gasped for air, but Dream held him tight, his fingers digging into Tommy's flesh.

“I. Am. A. God. I don't need armor or a weapon to kill you,” Dream hissed.

Tommy's heart raced as he faced Dream's piercing gaze. His breaths came out in short pants as he felt the pressure of Dream's hand on his throat. He felt small and helpless for a moment as the glint of green shone through the beady holes in the creepy, smiling mask. But then, something within him shifted. He thought of his hero, Techno, his oldest brother who never backed down from a fight. A god among men when it came to mastery of the blade. A fierce determination filled him. He would not disappoint the man who trained him. With a swift movement, he summoned his diamond sword and swung it towards Dream. Dream leaped back outside the house, evading the weapon's deadly arc.

“If you ever threaten me or my family again, I will kill you,” Tommy said, standing tall in the doorway, shield back in his other hand.

The silence hung heavy in the air as Dream and Tommy locked eyes, both daring the other to make a move. The tension was palpable, and neither of them dared to break the stare-down. Finally, with a sense of unease, Dream turned and made his exit, disappearing into the woods like a ghost. Tommy watched him go, his mind racing with questions and doubts, wondering if he had made the right choice in letting Dream leave.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

The Other Brother

Dream trudged through the snowy forest; his footsteps muffled by the thick blanket of snow. The sun had set for the day and a storm settled in for the night. The fierce wind howled, obscuring his vision with a flurry of snowflakes. Hearing the eerie moans of zombies and the clattering sounds of skeletons nearby he weaved through the trees to avoid encountering them. As he circled around a tree, narrowly missing the flying arrow from a skeleton nearby, he heard a chilling hiss from the branches above and with a jolt looked up just in time to see eight pairs of glowing, red eyes and gangly, black legs descending upon him.

The spider clobbered him, sinking its fangs deep into his shoulder, eliciting a sharp yelp from Dream. Reacting as fast as he could, he punched the spider in the face, throwing it off of him. The spider jumped back with a hiss. Having been tormented enough the past few days, Dream was more than ready to let off some steam. He readied his fists as the monster jumped at him again. His pent-up frustration surged forth, propelling him into a gritty hand-to-mandible clash of primal fury. He punched the spider over and over until his hands were covered in blood.

But just when he thought he was winning, an arrow whizzed past his face, clipping the edge of his chin and falling into the snow beside him. Caught off guard, Dream didn’t have enough time to react before the spider jumped at him again and pinned him down in a deep pile of snow. Another arrow sliced through the air, narrowly grazing his outstretched hand as he tried to claw his way out of the snow. Dream fumbled around uselessly as the spider took another bite out of his other shoulder. Gritting his teeth his hand stumbled across the shaft of one of the fallen arrows. He took hold of it and punctured the spider in the side. It wasn’t enough to kill it but it was enough to shake it off of him so he could prop himself up against a nearby tree.

A third arrow flew towards him, missing by a significant degree. Dream turned his gaze towards the skeleton, witnessing its head roll into the snow, as another pair of glimmering, crimson eyes charged toward him with bloodlust. A chill ran up Dream's spine as the mysterious figure ran their blade through the back of the spider, killing it in one blow. The spider disintegrated into dust, only a single eye remained which the figure crouched down to retrieve.

As a cold breeze swept away the swirling snow that had been stirred by the intense battle, Dream saw before him a tall man with long, pastel pink hair braided down his back. Adorning his head rested a crown crafted from gold-plated bones and over his white, frilly shirt and brown, baggy pants he wore a full set of shimmering netherite armor. Embellishing his formidable attire, a sweeping, blood-red cloak, lined with fluffy, white fur that draped over his broad shoulders, billowed in the harsh wind giving him an aura of majesty. Curiously, the man possessed hooved feet similar to that of a piglin, adding an uncanny touch to his overall appearance. And though the man possessed the potential for striking beauty, he obscured his face behind a mask that looked like the torn-off face of a young piglin brute. It was almost plastered to his face as if he had not taken it off for a long time and it was now nearly a part of his own flesh.

The man looked up at Dream after stowing away the spider’s eye in one of his side satchels. Two red streaks were stained on the man’s cheeks as if he had been crying blood but the blood never fully washed away no matter how hard he tried. Everything in Dream’s mind told him to run away but his body remained frozen to the spot. The man walked towards him, his hot breath making steam in the cold.

“That’s Tommy’s scarf. Are you one of his friends?” The man asked, pointing to the green bandana wrapped around Dream's neck.

Dream's hand instinctively gripped the bandana. “I am not that kid’s friend,” He said defensively.

A chill ran down his spine as soon as the words left his mouth. He felt as if he had just made a terrible mistake. The man gripped him by the middle of his hoodie, pulling him off the ground slightly. He stared at him through the white cloth that was tucked behind the rims of the piglin mask’s eye sockets.

“What did you do to him?” He asked, raising his axe up onto his shoulder menacingly.

“I didn’t do anything. I swear,” Dream said lifting his hands into the air. “He gave me this scarf. Are you the other brother then? What the hell is wrong with this family? You’re all crazy,” Dream rambled, blurting out whatever came to the top of his mind.

The man didn’t move a muscle. It seemed like he wasn’t even breathing in comparison to Dream's heavy breath forming little clouds between them. After a few moments of silence, the man let go of Dream's hoodie and stood up. Dream collapsed back into the snow. The surge of adrenaline from his preceding battle began to dissipate, leaving him keenly aware of the full extent of his injuries, their impact taking hold with growing intensity. He pressed his hands over the bite wounds, blood soaking his new hoodie.

“It’s dangerous at night. What are you doing out here with no gear? Punching a spider in the face with your bare hands. You’re calling me the crazy one?” The man chuckled.

“I don’t have any gear,” Dream said with a defeated sigh.

“What are you some kind of homeless man?”

“I am not homeless!” Dream lied.

“Coulda’ fooled me,” The man said.

Dream lay down in the snow panting, his hot breath obscuring his view of the man. He didn’t want to admit anything more to him. He was nearly as annoying as his little brother. If they were really brothers. They didn’t look anything alike.

The man rummaged around in his satchels, pulling out and tossing beaten-up leather gear into the snow around Dream. Dream watched with hostility as the man pulled out an enchanted golden sword and stuck it in the ground between Dream's legs.

“What are you—oohf!” Dream attempted to sit up but the man tossed a bundle of golden carrots into his lap, knocking him back down into the snow.

“That should get you to a nearby village or something. Don’t take this any funny way. I don’t care whether you live or die but the voices demand I help you ‘cause of that damn scarf. So, this is for them, not for you…But I guess it is also for you since I don’t need any of this crap anyways. You know what—you get it—I'm outta here. Don’t die,” The man rambled, scratching at his head and muttering to himself as he disappeared into the stormy night, heading in the direction of the house Dream had fled from.

Bewildered, Dream gathered everything into his lap and leaned himself against the tree. He munched on the sweet carrots and watched as his wounds healed before his eyes, only leaving behind very faint traces of scars. Once he felt better, he put on the scruffy, leather armor and picked up the golden sword. it was chipped on one edge and mostly dull on the other like it had seen its fair share of battles, but it was still usable.

Dream kept his guard up as he made his way out of the forest. Luckily, he didn’t run into too many mobs on his way, and the few that he did were a lot easier to subdue now that he had some protection and something to fight with. He felt a warmth in his chest as he thought about the gifts he’d been given. It was a new sensation he didn’t quite understand, something he’d never felt before.

As the trees opened up and thinned out, Dream saw the faint glow of torches in the distance. As he got closer, he recognized the outline of a small snowy village. He picked up his stride and made his way toward the nearest house. His body felt sore and heavy from the day’s excitement and the small bed with warm, yellow sheets was a welcoming site. He flopped down into bed and dozed out within minutes.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

The Vice President

Wilbur trudged through the snow with nothing but a new box of cigarettes he’d taken from his chest back home. He shook the box and a cigarette popped up making that satisfying sound of paper rolls shuffling around. He pinched the end between his lips and the familiar scent of tobacco wafted up his nose. He didn’t have a lighter, but with his newfound power, he didn’t need one. With a snap of his fingers, a small spark ignited at the tip of his pointer finger. The end of his cigarette burned and he took in a long drag.

Three years had passed since he last had a smoke.

Three years he spent locked up for his crimes against the nation of L’Manburg.

The ashy taste of burning tobacco filled his lungs, melting away all his anxiety. He stood in the snowy forest and stretched out his arms, embracing the cold air and the sharp sunlight that broke through the tree tops.

He was free.

For now, at least. He dropped his arms and his gaze fell to the ground. It wouldn’t be long before his old enemies tracked him down and threw him back in a cell. He had to do something spectacular again. Something that would guarantee his freedom for a long time to come. He was tired of living in a cell. The isolation drove him madder than staring into his brother’s eyes. He would not be imprisoned again. Even if it meant blowing L’Manburg to smithereens for a second time. Except this time, there would be no way to rebuild.

The gears turned in his head as he paced through the forest. He built up plans in his mind, tore them down, and rebuilt them again and again. He was so lost in thought that it wasn’t until his feet hit a particular patch of scorched earth that he finally looked up and realized where his autopilot had taken him. He sighed, smoke blowing out of his nose.

He stepped into the large ravine, dragging his hand along the wall as he walked. Dust and soot and small pieces of stone fell from the wall in the wake of his fingers. His hands grazed over wooden buttons, pressing them in one by one.

Pogtopia.

Home of dreams, home of revolution, home of betrayal.

Wilbur walked around the place, his steps lazy as he kicked around the rubble at his feet. The tiny remnants of the explosive end of L’Manburg’s independence tumbled down into the large body of water that the new state of L’Manburg was built over. He looked out at the rebuilt nation, from the room where the crescendo of his unfinished symphony took place.

The warm sunlight bathed the beautiful wooden buildings that were held up by thick, sturdy beams over the water. Flags with black triangles, yellow X’s, and red, white, and blue stripes flapped carelessly in the breeze. Agitation rose in his shoulders as he inhaled the last of his cigarette. It was too quiet for him. Too perfect. Too—peaceful.

He turned away and stalked towards the wooden button on the wall behind him. The button that ended it all. The button he agonized over as his crazed mind struggled to choose between two world-altering decisions.

He pressed the wooden button on the wall again. But this time, nothing happened. He made a small explosion sound and chuckled to himself. Then he laughed out loud. And then, his laughter became a wicked cackle only a man off his rockers could produce. His hollering reverberated through the remaining hallway of the ravine.

He stopped laughing suddenly. The look on his face shifted from crazed to composed. Something he saw out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He hid himself behind a crumpled part of the wall and watched as a speck of blue and black walked across the paths on the edge of L’Manburg’s territory. A tiny person who, while even so far away, Wilbur could recognize without a doubt.

He snapped his head to the right and studied the remaining narrow passageway of the ravine. A cruel smile spread across his face as a plan formulated in his mind. As he walked into the ravine he summoned a block of TNT.

…

Just as he was putting the final touches on his new masterpiece, he heard purposeful footsteps echo down the ravine. They stopped just short of where he knelt.

“I knew I’d find you here,” A familiar voice broke the silence.

A giddy smile crossed Wilbur’s face as he turned to greet the man he shared the most complicated relationship with.

“Quackity, how—” Wilbur started to throw out a witty jab but his words fell short as he laid eyes on him.

Something was very different about the man he ran against for president and the man who stood before him. He was still short. He still had a black mullet that brushed the tips of his shoulders. He still wore the same blue beanie. Even his clothes hadn’t changed much except for the bloody butcher’s apron.

It took Wilbur by surprise. The thing that made his cheeky grin falter and bile rise in his throat. Slightly folded behind Quackity’s back but stretched out enough for Wilbur to recognize were two very large and very beautiful golden wings.

“You look… different,” Wilbur said in a slow, deliberate cadence.

“It’s been a few years,” Quackity said with a playful smile.

“Are you overcompensating for something?” Wilbur sneered.

“What, you mean these?” Quackity said with a cheeky grin.

He spread his wings out wide and the tips of his feathers brushed up against the walls of Pogtopia on either side of him.

“Let’s just say I was blessed by a fallen god,” Quackity explained.

A dark expression crossed Wilbur’s face. He wasn’t smiling anymore. If anything, a scowl was drawn across his lips. He put his hands behind his back as casually as he could and summoned a small bundle of TNT.

“You know, that reminds me, I think I too have been blessed by that greedy green god,” Wilbur said, the corner of his mouth jerking up in a crude smirk.

“What?” Quackity said in shock. “Is that how you managed to escape?”

A spark crackled to life in Wilbur’s hand lighting the wicks of the TNT.

“Catch,” He said as he threw the TnT in Quackity’s direction.

“Shit!” Quackity yelled as he dove forward to avoid the arc of the explosives.

Wilbur seemed to have miscalculated his throw. Quackity dodged the explosion and the TNT went off far enough away that he only lost grip of his axe from the residual force. As he slid across the ground he realized he was close enough to cleave Wilbur in half if he could just pick up his axe in time. It was awkward trying to get up with his new wings. He was still adjusting to the weight of them and the amount of room they took up. Being in such a narrow ravine just made things more difficult to manage.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you,” Wilbur said with a sadistic grin.

“What, why?” Quackity questioned as he took a brief pause in getting up.

“Dunno if you’ve noticed but you’ve fallen on a landmine,” Wilbur said as he casually walked over to Quackity’s axe and kicked it out of his reach.

“My axe,” Quackity growled.

Wilbur crouched down in front of Quackity with a shit-eating grin. Quackity sneered at him before looking at the ground under him. He noticed the unnatural square outline of a stone plate his hands were pressing into the ground. He looked back up at Wilbur with panicked realization.

“What have you done?” Quackity demanded.

“I only rigged this part of the ravine with enough TNT to blow you to smithereens, or bury you alive if you somehow manage to evade the blast,” Wilbur gloated.

A bead of sweat fell down the side of Quackity’s face as fear quickened the beating of his heart.

“You didn’t miss that first throw on purpose. You tricked me,” Quackity snapped.

“You fell for it, quite literally,” Wilbur said as he lit a new cigarette.

He blew smoke in Quackity’s face adding salt to the wound. Everything went according to his plan. Without even realizing it, Quackity had fallen into his trap. The wings were something he hadn’t expected but they turned out to be a great weakness for him to exploit.

Before Quackity tried flying away Wilbur got up and shoved Quackity’s face to the ground under his foot. He pressed down on Quackity’s neck like he was trying to squash a bug and Quackity grunted in protest.

“Get your grimy boot off my neck, asshole,” Quackity choked out with contempt.

Wilbur ignored him and ran his fingers along the edge of one of his wings admiring it with a look of disgust. The golden feathers reflected the light that shined down from above. They were soft to the touch as his fingers melted into the foliage.

Wilbur liked it when Quackity’s wings were small and useless. All they were good for was heightening the eroticism of their complicated sex life. But now that they were large and functional, Wilbur couldn’t bear the sight of them. Something uncomfortable churned in his stomach as his hand swept over the golden feathers. A thought repeated itself over and over in his mind.

Ruin them. Ruin them. Ruin them.

Wilbur gripped a handful of feathers and twisted them. Quackity let out a breathy exclamation of shock as pain and arousal traveled through his body.

“Hey! They’re even more sensitive now, you know,” Quackity hissed.

Wilbur raised his eyebrows and let out a short huff. He materialized rope from his inventory and began wrapping it around his wings.

“Oh no you don’t,” Quackity grunted, trying to shove Wilbur’s foot off his neck.

“Be mindful of the plate beneath you Quackity or else you’ll explode into tiny, tiny chicken bites,” Wilbur taunted.

Quackity took a moment to check that he was still pressing the plate down. Wilbur took advantage of the distraction and twisted another section of his wing and pressed down harder on his neck, restricting the blood flow in his veins. Quackity cried out in pain and tried to keep fighting, flapping his wings around clumsily. Wilbur hung onto his wings with an iron grip, sinking his sharp fingernails into the delicate flesh underneath the feathers. Quackity writhed in pain as Wilbur put all his weight on his neck.

Quackity knew he should be terrified of the predicament he was in. He cursed himself for getting aroused by the blood choke and the dirty boot holding him down. As the flow of oxygen to his brain was interrupted, he slowly lost control over his body. He slumped down on the ground, his arms and legs became floppy and useless and his wings relaxed into Wilbur’s grasp.

With Quackity subdued, Wilbur managed to fold his wings together and tie them up crudely. Once they were rendered useless, he took his boot off Quackity’s neck. As Quackity took in a deep breath all the blood rushed back to his head at once. His mind wasn’t all that cognizant of his situation yet but he was aware of the boner forming in his pants as a flourishing feeling of arousal traveled across his body and into his dick.

Wilbur grabbed one of Quackity’s arms, folded it behind his back, and tied his wrist into the mess of ropes around his wings. Finally, clarity returned to Quackity’s mind but it was too late for him to do much.

They knew each other’s kinks well, given their history. Bondage and breath play were at the top of both of their lists. Having his wings bound was something Quackity hadn’t experienced since they grew thanks to Dream. The rope felt nice. His only grievance was how crudely they were tied. He was a bit of a Shibari snob. While he liked the intricacies of complex ties, Wilbur was a do-the-bare-minimum-to-get-the-job-done kind of rope top. And he hated it.

“You still tie like shit,” Quackity sneered as he flexed his wings against the ropes.

“Go on, try escaping then,” Wilbur said encouragingly.

Irritation and brattiness boiling in his heart, Quackity wriggled against his bonds. Sure it was a crude tie but it held firm. Some of the strategically placed knots hurt when he pushed against them. Even though he wanted to maintain his irritated facade, the restricting feeling of being bound only intensified his arousal. The sane part of his mind reminded him that he was sitting on the trigger plate of a TNT nightmare. But the horny part of his mind was excited by the prospects of his precarious predicament.

Wilbur continued to tie Quackity up. He wove a two-column tie around his other arm, bending it into a little, useless chicken wing so Quackity couldn’t use his free hand to untie any of the other ropes. Then he cinched his wings together and stretched them upwards with a rope he secured to a part of a fence that was conveniently poking out of the wall above them.

Panic jumped up Quackity’s throat as the ropes slightly lifted his torso off of the stone plate. He managed to keep the plate pressed down by shifting around and balancing his weight between his chicken wing arm and his legs. Wilbur took advantage of his precarious position by folding his legs up and tying them together in a futomomo, like his arm. Quackity wobbled back and forth as he adjusted to his weight being solely on his knees and one arm. His knees cried out in pain, pinned between his weight and the harsh surface of the stone plate.

“You’re really trying to kill me,” Quackity said with a nervous chuckle.

It was more of a statement than a question. Whether it was true or not was neither confirmed nor denied by Wilbur.

“I’ve been running some tests with my new blessing recently,” Wilbur started to explain. “It seems I can summon up to an entire stack of TNT every few hours. And whether this is an added perk or not I have yet to decide, but it also seems that I can’t be harmed by any explosion I create with this power.”

“What’s the point of all this anyways?” Quackity asked through clenched teeth.

Wilbur looked at him with a mystified expression.

“I’m trying to fuck you, obviously… And also cover my ass for a bit while I think up a plan to get me out of jail,” He said.

“You’re gonna fuck me like this? With my life on the line?” Quackity yelled desperately.

“Tell me that doesn’t turn you on, you dirty gambler. You think I can’t see the bulge in your pants?” He responded with a swift kick to his balls.

Quackity let out a cry of pain and curled in on himself as much as he could.

“You’re fucking unhinged,” Quackity shrieked with tears welling in his eyes.

Wilbur hummed with amusement. What Quackity said versus what he did didn’t always match up. Sure he seemed pissed off, but he was already panting like a bitch in heat. CNC was the third biggest kink on both their lists. It went hand in hand with the bondage and the breath play and the CBT. Wilbur ran his hand over Quackity’s ass and gave it a good squeeze. Then he slid his hand down his crotch and felt his boner swell as he gently massaged his dick through his pants.

“I haven’t had a really good fuck like this in years, you know?” Wilbur sighed.

“I wonder whose fault that was?” Quackity sneered with a sigh of excitement.

“You stopped visiting me after a while.”

“I forgot about you.”

“Oh really?”

“I moved on to better things.”

“I’m sure you did.”

Wilbur gave his balls a good squeeze and Quackity groaned in response. With a knife he took out of his pocket, Wilbur cut a hole right down the middle seam of Quackity’s pants. Then he grabbed the fabric and ripped the pants wider exposing his junk.

“Those were good pants, you bastard!” Quackity complained.

Wilbur said nothing. He lightly dragged the blade along Quackity’s exposed crotch and ass. Not hard enough to hurt him, just light enough to threaten him. Quackity’s breath hitched as he felt the cold metal slide along his skin.

Wilbur undid the straps on Quackity’s apron and tossed it to the side. He slid his hands under Quackity and unzipped his jacket revealing his bare torso. He let his hands wander across his chest for a little bit as he held the knife up to Quackity’s neck with his other hand. Quackity tensed up as he felt the cool metal rest gently above his Adam’s apple.

Wilbur played gently with Quackity’s nipples. He pinched at them and reveled in the small moans that escaped Quackity’s lips. He felt himself getting hard in his pants and decided to move on.

He put the knife away and hoisted Quackity’s hips up into a doggy-style position. Quackity gasped, his heart racing, as he focused on maintaining the position of his knees and arm on the stone plate. One wrong move and he would be obliterated.

But Wilbur was right. Blame his adrenaline junky heart or his crippling gambling addiction but it wasn’t only fear that gripped at his chest. Excitement pumped through his veins along with the adrenaline and it all went straight to his dick.

Wilbur took little time to undo his pants, freeing his boner from the restrictive fabric. He spat unceremoniously on Quackity’s ass and plunged a finger inside.

“Ah!” Quackity exclaimed.

He was rough with it, forcing his ass to accept his penetration but he took his time loosening him up. One finger, then two, then three, Quackity’s muscles relaxed around them until Wilbur could fit all of his fingers in up to his knuckles. He spat on his other hand and stroked his throbbing cock as he kept working Quackity’s ass, finding and pressing on his prostate. Quackity moaned and let his head hang. There was nothing he could do but accept the pleasure that rolled across his body. Wilbur pulled his fingers out and pressed the tip of his dick against Quackity’s ass, massaging around his entrance in a circular motion.

“No, wait—It’s too soon,” Quackity stuttered through shaky breaths.

“You can handle it,” Wilbur dismissed him.

“What about lube?” Quackity asked desperately.

“Couldn’t find any,” Wilbur said spitting on Quackity’s ass again and giving him a quick but firm slap before pushing himself inside.

Quackity gasped as he felt himself being stretched and filled. He balled his hand into a fist and grimaced from the burning sensation around his entrance. Wilbur slowly pushed his dick further and further in. It was only a few inches in for now but it was still a lot given the size and circumference of his cock. He rocked back and forth, plunging deeper and deeper as Quackity’s hole relaxed and accepted more of him. Wilbur’s dick pressed against his prostate and Quackity moaned with every thrust.

Wilbur sighed with ecstasy and quickened his pace. He reveled in the power and control he had over Quackity. His eyes trailed over the ropes holding him in place. He pulled on one of the connecting lines and chuckled at Quackity’s whimper as the ropes tightened around his wings. With a growl of pleasure, Wilbur fucked into Quackity faster and harder.

“Oh, fuck, fuck! It’s so rough,” Quackity whined helplessly.

“You like it rough though don’t you, you pathetic manhole,” Wilbur degraded.

Quackity groaned in response.

“You’re just a stupid, pathetic cum dumpster that fell into my trap and now you’re getting fucked in the middle of a minefield. You move even slightly and this whole place explodes.”

A shiver ran down Quackity’s spine. His cock throbbed with the desire to be touched. Subspace encompassed his mind like a warm blanket but he couldn’t let his mind wander too much. He had to maintain his concentration on the three points of contact he had with the stone plate. He gasped and moaned and panted as his weight shifted around from the rocking of his body as Wilbur fucked into him. Hitting his prostate with every thrust Quackity felt himself getting closer and closer to his climax. With all the build-up and anticipation Wilbur had from setting up this provocative death trap, it wasn’t long before he reached his. With a final deep thrust, he finished in him.

With a deep sigh of satisfaction, Wilbur stayed inside Quackity for a short while, leaning his upper body against his wings. Quackity steadied himself on the plate to accommodate the additional weight. He whimpered softly as the ropes tightened around his wings.

It was painful.

His knees screamed, his wings ached, his arms tingled, his shoulders and back quivered as they struggled to hold his weight. He was to a certain degree suspended by the ropes. But it only really helped him stay balanced and centered on the plate. The rest was up to him. And although he’d never admit it, it all felt good. It relaxed him in a way he couldn’t describe with words.

All the stress from running a country, endless piles of paperwork, lobbyists in his ears, old enemies that evaded punishment he had to worry about. It all melted away. The only thing that mattered at this moment was staying steady on the plate and enjoying himself.

Wilbur got up and slid out of Quackity. Quackity moaned and hid his face in embarrassment when he felt cum dripping out of him. Wilbur cleaned himself off with a rag he had in his pocket and readjusted himself before shoving the dirty cloth back into his pocket.

“Hey, don’t forget about me, asshole. You know I can’t cum from anal alone,” Quackity grumbled.

“Oh don’t you worry, I haven’t forgotten about you,” Wilbur said as he wandered over to the side of the ravine to pick up a large stick that leaned against the wall.

He stalked toward Quackity with a sadistic glow in his eyes as he repeatedly tapped his hand with the end of the stick. It was a nice long stick of bamboo, sleek and clean like it had been prepared specifically for the activity Wilbur intended to use it for.

“I’ve decided I’m going to break you, Quackity, before I leave you here as a nice little present for anyone who happens to wander around these parts,” Wilbur said with a terrifying grin.

Quackity tensed up with dread as he set his sight on the cane.

“Are you serious?” Quackity asked.

“Hold this for me would you?” Wilbur said, resting the cane against Quackity’s side.

“Wilbur—”

“Obviously I won’t start right out the gate with a cane,” Wilbur interjected. “I may have a few screws loose but I’m not insane.”

“Are you though? Think for a second,” Quackity thought for a second and changed his mind. “Actually don’t think. That’s how disasters happen.”

Wilbur walked around to Quackity’s ass once again and took in the view. The ripped pants outlined his ass so nicely. And the cum dripping down from his hole to his balls made it all the more enticing.

“You look absolutely pathetic,” Wilbur taunted.

“Fuck you,” Quackity retorted, his face reddening with embarrassment.

Wilbur undid his belt and folded it in his hands making a crisp snap as he pulled the two strips of leather taught. Quackity braced himself for the pain as the belt came crashing down across his ass.

He groaned as the stinging pain radiated across his ass cheeks. He quickly realized that he couldn’t move his ass away at all or else he’d risk moving off the plate. He was forced to maintain a strict position, battling his instincts to get away from Wilbur’s barrage of lashings. His throbbing cock leaked pre-cum onto the plate below him. He closed his eyes and moaned through the pain.

Soon, his whole body was shivering. Not because he was cold, but because his muscles were starting to give out on him. With the added punishment of the lashings, his stamina was draining quickly.

Wilbur moved on from his ass to his wings. The sensation was weird for Quackity. It was a nice type of pain. It wasn’t as stingy. The fluff of his feathers dissipated the strike so it was more of a thud. Wilbur started light and slowly increased the strength of his impacts. Since his wings were so large there was plenty of area to hit.

The sight of Quackity’s golden wings taunted him like an itch he couldn’t scratch. He didn’t know how to name his emotions and wanted desperately to ignore them. But even tied up, his wings seemed to mock him.

Wilbur lost himself in his sadistic frenzy.

He cracked his belt across Quackity’s wings as hard and precise as he could. He focused on certain areas until he could see the visible bruises on his skin beneath the feathers. He did this over and over to different parts of his wings. Making lines of welts rise across the sensitive skin.

Quackity shivered and groaned as he bared the pain from beating after beating. He liked the pain but his dick throbbed with yearning. He wanted to be touched. He wanted to climax. But even more so than that, he was prideful about the amount of pain he could tolerate. He tried his hardest not to give Wilbur the satisfaction of knowing that he was hurting. But with each strike, his skin became more tender. With each strike, his knees wobbled. With each strike, his wings winced against their bonds. Pins and needles radiated through his feet and hands. But through it all, he stood strong and focused his effort on maintaining his position on the plate.

“You’re so quiet, Quackity. What’s gotten into you?” Wilbur asked with a swift strike to his ass.

Quackity groaned faintly, his breath heavy. He kept his eyes trained on the small puddle of pre-cum on the plate underneath him. It was humiliating but it was the only thing that kept him focused. Wilbur clenched his jaw. Quackity wasn’t breaking like he wanted. He decided, with a menacing expression on his face, that it was time to escalate things. He gripped Quackity’s ass cheek firmly, digging his nails into his red, irritated skin. Quackity groaned quietly in response. Wilbur raised his belt with his new target in mind and swung down delivering a powerful blow to his captive’s manhood.

A sharp pain shot up through Quackity’s pelvis and into his stomach making him double over as he felt the urge to vomit. Every time his balls throbbed, it felt as if a white-hot knife were piercing deep into the core of his soul. Because he instinctually folded in on himself from the shock, one of his knees slipped off the plate and he gasped with panic as his whole body fell to the left. Luckily he managed to keep his right arm and leg firmly pressed down on the plate. As he struggled against the ropes, trying to curl up into a little ball, Wilbur showed no mercy and struck him with the belt once again.

Quackity broke.

He cried out in pain as more pre-cum leaked from his throbbing cock. The pain from the lashing was a lot to handle, but the pain of yearning in his dick was even harder to bare.

“Oh you’re just a glutton for pain aren’t you Quackity?” Wilbur teased.

“That’s enough!” Quackity panted. “Just rub me off already.”

“I say when it’s enough,” Wilbur said with another crack of the belt.

Quackity screamed again and writhed in pain. Tears fell from his eyes as he took in deep shaky breaths.

“I haven’t even gotten to the cane yet,” Wilbur said as he lightly spanked his ass.

“Yeah, and it’s gonna hurt even worse after what you’ve done already,” Quackity whined.

“Aw, poor you, fucking torture whore,” Wilbur said spanking him again.

Quackity moaned as the stinging pain from his ass mixed in with the throbbing pain in his pelvis.

Wilbur got to his feet and picked up the cane.

“I haven’t heard a safe word yet,” He said as he tapped the end of the cane against his hand.

Quackity panted heavily as he looked up at the cane. His pelvis still throbbed. But the pain only turned him on more. He wanted Wilbur to jerk him off, but that would mean he’d have to beg for it, and that meant admitting defeat. He knew he was in for an excruciating experience. But the fact that he couldn’t move, couldn’t free himself from his bonds, couldn’t do anything to resist or getaway, only turned him on more. He was completely at Wilbur’s mercy and he hated it. He hated Wilbur. He hated submitting to Wilbur. If only it wasn’t him. But a scene like this could only be done with a psycho like him. And he couldn’t say it wasn’t hot.

His fiances came to mind. He couldn’t imagine his soft subby fiance Karl doing anything like this to him. But if it was Sapnap, if it was in his soft bed at home, it would be a different kind of painful. It would be a soft pain. Not that Sapnap wouldn’t inflict pain as intense as he was experiencing now. There would just be a softness to the scene. There would be water breaks and sensual, romantic touches, and kissing. He’d end up a melty mess deep in subspace without a care in the world.

He was a mess now and also deep in subspace. But it was a different kind of mess; a different type of subspace. There was no way he could submit without a care in the world. He didn’t feel safe. He wasn’t safe. He was one wrong move away from death. His aching gut fermented with a passionate hatred towards his captor. He grimaced at the haughty grin that spread across Wilbur’s face.

He looked down at the plate that he was now somewhat curled up on. The ropes were tighter in his new position. After relentless strain, his knees finally got a break but it was at the expense of his folded legs. His right leg was spread wide and halfway off the plate giving him some space between his legs and his sore erection. His left leg was folded under him, holding most of his weight on the plate alongside his folded arm. Since his body was closer to the plate, the ropes around his wings strained them. The anchor rope above him pulled them up as if to rip them from his back. His body shivered with fatigue. His limbs tingled with numbness. His breathing was short and labored. The whipping left his skin warm and tingly all over. His mind went blank. He was only aware of the various sensations rippling across his body. He dropped his head to the ground.

Taking Quackity’s silence as consent, Wilbur walked behind him and rubbed his hand across his wounded ass. Quackity’s breath hitched. His skin burned under the touch. He whimpered under his breath.

Wilbur tapped his ass with the tip of the cane, teasing him. Quackity huffed and rolled his eyes lazily only registering the small stinging spots on his ass where the cane toughed his irritated skin.

Then it hit him.

Wilbur delivered a strong strike to Quackity’s ass. Shortly after impact, an intense, sharp sting afflicted Quackity.

“Ah-h!” Quackity exclaimed.

Wilbur took a short pause and the pain faded quickly but Quackity’s skin developed a small welt. After his pause, Wilbur delivered six more strikes in quick intervals of 10 seconds. The sting built up exponentially with each subsequent impact. Quackity sobbed through each one with his head buried in the dirt floor.

Satisfied with the state of his captive’s ass, red, bruised and even bleeding a little, Wilbur moved on to a different area. He held the cane in his hands like a baseball bat and swung at Quackity’s wings like he was a pinata at a party.

“Shit!” Quackity screamed.

Wilbur struck him three more times without any break in between.

“Ah! Ow, ouch, fuck!,” Quackity cried with each hit.

Wilbur took another pause. He studied Quackity’s wings with a serious expression. His mind chanted.

Break them. Break them. Break them.

Quackity tried to catch his breath through his sobs as the stinging faded to a buzzing numbness.

“For the love of god, Wilbur, just touch me already,” Quackity whimpered through his sniffles. “Haven’t you done enough?”

Wilbur said nothing. He went back to striking in intervals of 10 seconds.

Break them. Break them. Break them.

Maybe Quackity took five strikes, maybe it was eight, or even ten. He wasn’t counting and neither was Wilbur.

“S-stop-p…Will-bur…I, I can’t take much more,” Quackity begged with raspy breath.

Wilbur didn’t seem to hear him.

“Wilbur…”

He kept going.

“Wilbur, Stop!”

His mind was elsewhere. His hands struck at their own accord.

“Ah, fuck—Roll the dice!” Quackity managed to shout at the top of his lungs.

Wilbur stopped mid-swing. Hearing their safe word brought him back to reality. His breath was quick and shallow. His glasses fogged up a bit. He dropped the cane to his side and stepped back to admire his work.

Quackity looked like a tragic work of art. Huddled on the ground shaking with his wings stretched above him. His skin was beyond irritated, littered with bruises and welts. And in some places, his wings were stained red with blood.

Wilbur got hard again at the sight. He sauntered over and squatted in front of Quackity. Quackity’s head was turned sideways, his beanie pressed between him and the dirt floor. Wilbur ripped off the beanie and threw it behind him.

“Hey,” Quackity protested.

Wilbur grabbed a handful of his tousled hair and lifted his head so the two were staring into each other’s eyes.

“What’s your color?” Wilbur asked.

“…Yellow,” Quackity said reluctantly.

Wilbur laughed at him.

“What?” Quackity growled.

“You’re still okay after all that,” Wilbur taunted.

“I still haven’t cum,” Quackity sneered.

“Oh, so you’ll put up with anything until you get your release?”

“What more could you possibly want out of me?”

Wilbur undid the zipper of his pants and pulled out his boner.

“You’ve made me hard again Quackity, you’re gonna have to pay for that.”

“You—”

Quackity tried to protest but Wilbur shoved his dick in Quackity’s mouth to shut him up. Quackity gagged a little from the initial long thrust that hit the back of his throat. Wilbur held his head in place around his dick but he did let up a little so Quackity wouldn’t vomit on him. Slowly, he pumped in and out of Quackity’s mouth.

Frustration flourished in Quackity’s chest. Wilbur fucked him already. He took so much from him. It was his turn. He decided to clench down on Wilbur’s dick in protest, sinking his teeth in just enough to be painful but not enough to cause him any real harm.

Wilbur pulled out immediately and slapped Quackity across the face firmly.

“Try that again and I won’t let you cum.”

Quackity’s mind went blank as he felt the stinging on his face dissipate. He looked back up at Wilbur. Drool and pre-cum dripped from his mouth. Wilbur slid inside of him again and fucked him roughly. Quackity groaned around his cock and made an effort to suck him off properly. He took in as much as he could, sucking him deeper and deeper with every thrust until he was deep-throating him.

The pressure from his throat squeezing the head of his cock mixed with the sensation of his mouth pushing down towards the base of his cock—that compression-type feeling—made Wilbur sigh with ecstasy. It was so relaxing and comfortable.

With each thrust, he rolled his tongue around his shaft. Sometimes he moaned and the vibration of his voice sent shivers up Wilbur’s spine. Each time he took him in all the way, he swallowed, he had no gag reflex after the first few times. His shaft throbbed against his tongue, his tip swollen in his throat, the pressure built up, and he came hard. The release, the relief, the orgasm, nothing compared.

Wilbur gripped Quackity’s head and pressed himself as far down his throat as he could go. With his trachea cut off long ago, Quackity was slowly running out of air in his lungs. His mind felt fuzzy as he swallowed in tandem with the spasms of Wilbur’s cock.

“Oh fuck…” Wilbur moaned as he rode out the tail end of his orgasm and pulled out once it got overstimulating.

Quackity gasped for breath. Warm, musky air filled his lungs. Relief washed over his body like a wave. Awareness returned to his oxygenated mind but his body hung from the ropes lethargically. His dick throbbed. He wanted to be touched. He needed to be touched.

“You got what you wanted now give me one,” Quackity demanded breathlessly.

Wilbur gripped a handful of Quackity’s hair again and lifted his head so the two of them were looking into each other’s eyes.

“I’ve been quite selfish, haven’t I?” Wilbur drawled.

“You’re such an asshole,” Quackity sighed.

Wilbur chucked and let go of Quackity’s hair. He slid his hand down the length of his torso and cupped his other hand around Quackity’s throat, pressing down on the arteries in his neck, choking him lightly. Quackity gasped as Wilbur’s searching hand found its place around his cock.

“Wow, You’re really wet down here. It’s almost like you’ve been turned on this entire time you fucking freak,” Wilbur said massaging him around the tip and sliding along his shaft slowly.

“Ah, fuck—Wilbur, haven’t you teased me enough?” Quackity whined, rocking his hips into Wilbur’s hand as much as he could.

“Aren’t you desperate?” Wilbur teased as he stroked him, picking up his pace to a nice rhythm.

“Ah, ah—sh-ut up—hah, ah…” Quackity said between moans. He panted hard, taking in quick, sharp breaths with every thrust.

He’d been teased and tormented for so long. He knew he was only a few strokes away from his climax. It was going to be a big one too. An orgasm that had been building up over time from all the different parts of the foreplay: the ropes, the lashings, the plate, the pain, and the fucking. He was going to have an orgasm that would rush across his whole body with a grand sigh of relief and ecstasy. An orgasm that would bring this scene to a close for him with a satisfying grand finale.

“Mm, maybe I should ruin it for you,” Wilbur mused.

A shiver ran along Quackity’s spine. His breath hitched. Dread flooded his chest as if someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over him. He side-eyed Wilbur with the intensity of a cornered beast.

“You better fucking not Wilbur or I swear, I’ll seriously fucking kill you,” Quackity warned.

“If you don’t want me to then why are you dripping wet at the mention?” Wilbur said as he rubbed the new secretion of pre-cum all over his tip.

“Wilbur s-stop,” Quackity hissed from the overstimulation.

“Stop? You want me to stop?” Wilbur asked cruelly as he took his hand away.

“No—Wilbur—Ah!” Quackity whimpered as Wilbur suddenly grabbed him again and picked up the pace of his stoking to a violent degree. “Ngh-haa…fuck. Don’t stop, don’t s-stop.”

Wilbur chuckled to himself, drunk on power.

“You want to cum Quackity?” He asked.

“Yes!”

“How bad do you want it?”

“Wilbur—fuck—I’m so close.”

“Go on, Quackity, beg for it,”

“Fuck—Wilbur, please…please!”

“Please what?”

“P-please, let me cum!”

“Aw, well since you asked so nicely…”

A crooked smile cracked across Wilbur’s face and he suddenly let go.

“Nhg—no!” Quackity yelped in despair.

He ruined it.

Quackity cried out in frustrated agony as his dick spasmed. A single, last, rough stroke would have done it for him. He would have been experiencing probably one of the best orgasms in his life. But instead, he had a very subtle, dulled-down orgasm with no release, no intensity, and no pleasure. It was even a bit painful feeling the contractions of the orgasm without any gratification as he came on the plate below him in short, forced spurts.

Wilbur laughed maniacally at Quackity’s pitiful state of agony.

Frustration, humiliation, and disappointment all swelled in Quackity’s chest. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He hung his head in shame. He did not want Wilbur to see him cry. But the sobbing came from deep in his diaphragm. It was the kind of sob that overcame all attempts of resistance.

Tears streaked down his face as he inhaled an intense, shaky breath. He both hated it and loved it. It was painful and not the least bit pleasurable and he was left still feeling horny. But being completely controlled like this by a sadist did something for him. He was still very much in sub-space. He was still shivering in pain. He was still fearing for his life. The overwhelming feeling of helplessness drove him into the pits of despair.

Tears rolled down his cheeks against his will. Almost like Wilbur had forced him to cry. Just like he forced everything else on him. But they weren’t tears of sorrow. They were tears that flowed for no reason and every reason all at once. They were tears that felt good to shed. Tears that needed to be shed.

He didn’t have his release in the form of an orgasm like he wanted but he did have his release. One he didn’t realize he needed until just then.

Wilbur cupped his hand under Quackity’s jaw and lifted his head to look at him. Quackity didn’t have the strength to fight him.

“Aw, did I make you cry? How pitiful,” Wilbur mocked him.

Quackity blew out a huff and sniffled uncontrollably.

Wilbur knelt and brought his face to his lips so he could lick up his tears. It was sensual. It felt nice. It was comforting in an erotic sort of way. Wilbur held his head in his hands until he calmed down. Quackity was slowly falling out of sub-space and returning to a state of normalcy. His whole body ached. He was ready to be released from his bonds.

“Untie me,” He demanded.

“Mm, no-” Wilbur stated blankly as he got up and brushed the dirt off his knees.

Quackity lifted his head with irritation and confusion.

“What do you mean no?”

“I mean no. You want me to say it in Spanish? No~”

“Wilbur—”

“Did you forget what I told you before, Quackity? I said I was gonna leave you here as a nice little present for anyone who decides to wander into these ruins.”

“That was part of the scene though. Right? Like the TNT beneath me. It was a thrill to get us going. I’m not actually sitting on top of a real landmine and you’re not actually going to leave me here. You’re just messing with me, aren’t you? Haha! Very funny but the sex is over now so fucking untie me, asshole.”

Wilbur lit a new cigarette as Quackity rambled on. He took a drag and watched him wriggle around trying to find his own way out of his bonds. He watched his expression change from doubt to irritation to confusion to panic.

“It’s not real,” Quackity said with disbelief.

“Oh yes it is,” Wilbur said bluntly. “It’s all very real.”

Quackity’s mouth hung open dumbly. Wilbur exhaled smoke and summoned a block of TNT in front of Quackity’s eyes. He placed it on the floor and leaned against it.

“Should I light one up for you?” Wilbur asked mischievously as sparks emanated at the tips of his fingers.

“Nuh-nuh-nuh, no, no, no!” Quackity stuttered with a nervous chuckle.

Wilbur bounced up from the block of TNT and raised himself onto his toes once.

“Well, good luck Quackity. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.”

Wilbur walked away with purpose in his stride.

“You motherfucker!” Quackity called out behind him as he left.

He let out a stream of curses that echoed around the ravine. Wilbur sighed with contentment, savoring the moment of tranquility and fulfillment.

“That’ll buy me a day or two, you think?” He said to no one in particular before starting on his journey back home.