Lost in the Dark

*WARNING: this chapter contains nonconsensual sex between men. If that makes you uncomfortable, then don't read it.*

I don't sleep anymore.

I can't.

Everytime I close my eyes I see it happening all over again. I can't remember how they captured me, all I can remember is what they did to md whd what they made me do. It makes me sick. I remember what they made me do and I want to die. I feel unclean, but no amount of bathing can make it go away. I've scrubbed my skin raw trying to get rid of it, only to have it come back seconds after the shower.

I tell myself that I didn't do it on my own. I had no free will. They took it. They dropped acid on the back of my neck and used me like a puppet. My mind would scream, beg me to stop, but my body would disobey. It moved on its own, like in a nightmare, performing the deadliest of sins, the most immoral of acts.

I've prayed for God to forgive me. I don't think He will, but I don't blame Him. What I did was beyond wrong. It was evil.

They handed me the keys to his cell. They told me to go inside and rape him. They told me to enjoy it. My body glided into the cell, catching him by surprise. He tried to fight me off. He was surprisingly strong for someone about a foot shorter than me, and moved quickly. He darted about the small space, pleading with me, trying to make me stop.

"Don't do this," he said. "Please, for God's sake."

I leapt at him, pinning him against the wall. He squirmed, swatting at me with mottled green hands. I succeeded in knocking him to the floor and was on him in an instant, pulling his trousers down. I had an erection, even though this wasn't something I wanted. I tried to tell myself to stop, that this was wrong in so many ways. My body wouldn't listen, it only raped him. He screamed, and I felt my excitement growing. The guards were watching, cheering me on.

"Get him, Wagner!"

"Yeah, show that limey faggot who's boss."

"You know he likes it. Make him beg for more!"

His screams subsided, turning into groans of pain. I saw tears streamng down his face, and felt myself grinning. I finished, pulling out of him. I stood up, pulling my pants back on. He lay there motionless for a moment, then pulled his own trousers up and curled himself up into a small, shivering mass on the floor. There was blood on his thighs and anus, and I knew that it was on me as well. I left the cell, still grinning. I wanted to shower. I wanted to scrub myself till I bled. I didn't want forgiveness, though. I didn't deserve it. Not from him, not from God. I was bound for Hell, and I was willing to accept that.

They made me do it several times, and each time my body enjoyed it more and more. Sometimes I would find myself taunting him as I raped him, calling him things like 'limey bastard,' 'faggot,' and 'frog-man.' My body grew more and more violent with him; my fists would hit him, my fingers would curl around the roots of his hair and pull as hard as they could, my tail would wind around his neck, making him choke and gag. I begged God to make it stop. I begged Him for forgiveness, for understanding. I did not want to hurt this man. Every time my body entered his cell, I tried to make it stop. It refused to listen to me, it moved on its own.

He escaped. He found a way out. He passed my cell, pausing to glare at me, and I found myself begging him to let me out.

"Please," I begged. "Please let me out."

He glared darkly, pointing the gun at my face. "Why should I?"

"They made me do it," I said, staring into the barrel. "They poured acid on my neck, they made me. I didn't want to - "

He slammed the gun into my face. I screamed, stumbling back as I felt the bones in my nose shatter. Blood poured down my face, covering my shirtfront and hands. "You've got some nerve," he shouted, "thinking I'll help you, you piece of shit rapist."

"I'm sorry," I sobbed, unable to look him in the eye. "Please forgive me."

He turned and left without a word, racing off down the hall.

He managed to escape, to break free of the damp walls and experiments. He got what he deserved most, I suppose. God let him burst out into the clean air and sunshine, to let him return to whatever family he had, whatever love was in his life. God would let him heal, God would let him live.