SCS Fanfiction Contest Winner:A Joytoy’s Journey to become a Hive-QueenBy PhyonesArc!

SCS Fanfiction Contest Winner: A Joytoy’s Journey to become a Hive-Queen By PhyonesArc!

Chapter 1 – A (literal) pain in the Ass

“In modern society the usage of narcotics has long since become much more normal than it had been even thirty years ago. The biggest reasons for that are more supply, less controls, less stigmatisation, and generally less fucks to give. An average of 40% of the adult population admits to consuming some form of drug regularly, a staggering 30% almost daily. The real number is probably much higher.”

• “Modern Society, a retrospective,” 2056

With an incessant beeping I got ripped out of my sleep, my head throbbing like someone was playing the drums on my skull. Croaking my displeasure, before coughing up some bile, I reached over and tried to smash the alarm clock off, whilst simultaneously vomiting the last of the alcohol and what pitiful food I had yesterday into the trash can. Eventually I hit the stupid alarm and groaned, taking some heaving breaths before dry heaving a couple more times.

Next to me someone moved, warm naked flesh touching my own. I could feel breasts on my back as Sarah tried to use me as a pillow… again.

I groaned once more, ignored the warmth behind me, much too hungover to enjoy the feeling, and got up. I didn’t dislike Sarah, she was a nice girl, at least when she wasn’t drunk. Which was quite the rare occasion now that I thought about it, considering it had been weeks since I had last seen her sober. No, what irked me was that I couldn’t have my own bed. It wasn’t her fault, of course. We had to share bed and board to keep the costs down, and even then we barely made enough, even with four people in an apartment I would barely consider large enough for one.

Mumbling something to myself I got up, staggering from the alcohol and other shit still remaining in my system from last night. With a bit of effort I made my way over to our kitchen, although calling the shitty hole in the wall stove a kitchen was gloriously overselling things. I opened the fridge, grimacing at the ear grating squeaking sound it made, grabbed whatever cheap beer we had left, opened it, and downed half the bottle to clear the bile out of my mouth.

I know I shouldn’t, I was an alcoholic and should probably stop if only to save like half the pitiful amount of money I made each month, but I’d been taking all kinds of drugs since my very early teenage years and by this point the amount of fucks I had left to give the universe at large were somewhere between nonexistent and fuck all.

“Get the fuck up.” I mumbled loudly before I finished my beer, throwing the empty can into the corner where the rest of the cans had already assembled to discuss our abuse of their contents. Someone would have to clean up soon… And considering this dingy household, that someone would be me.

Of course my rambling wasn’t near enough to wake them, pissdrunk and high off their tits as they had been the previous evening. Sarah was still in dreamland, naked with a blanket barely over her long legs. Tina and Sharon were still asleep on the other mattress in the corner, limbs entangled from last night’s fun, empty beer cans still next to them. Once upon a time they too had a bed, but considering Sharon’s unquenchable lust, that thing had been fucked through not even three months after she had moved in. Since they didn’t have enough money for a new one, and Sarah and I weren’t about to fork our pitiful creds over for them to break the bed again, the stained mattress it was.

Grumbling once more I stumbled over to kick the two awake, before I went over to Sarah to do the same. We all had to work soon and our boss wouldn’t be happy with us being late again. I didn’t know the schedule of the others, but I was booked out for the next couple days, and some of the clients paid good money to bend me over the bed frame.

The lot of us were joytoys, little more than cheap whores. Once upon a time joytoys were more than just harlots, but over time things had changed in our redlight district, different gangs moved in, and by now all you were expected to do was spread your legs and act like you enjoyed your time. They didn’t even care if you were barely capable of walking from a near overdose.

Okay, things weren’t quite that bad, I was just pissy. Our job didn’t suck entirely, and I liked doing it, most of the time. Ever since I had my first period my libido had been high, and even before I had turned eighteen I had my fair share of partners in the gangs, mostly to get my hands on more drugs.

After they threw me out… Well… I didn’t have much in terms of options. And frankly by that point I no longer had any inhibitions about spreading my legs to get what I wanted, nor enough fucks to spare to care about dignity.

Picking up whatever clean clothing I still had, none of us really cared who wore what as long as it all got cleaned afterwards, I slipped into my “work uniform”. A skimpy bra that only hid my nipples, a nearly see through blouse that underlined my small but perky breasts, and a short mini skirt that barely hid the wonders beneath from the world. I decided to skip underwear, wouldn’t wear it for long anyway and I knew for a fact that most of my clients liked the cheap whore high on low-grade shit look that I usually had. Every joytoy had their theme and their regulars, and I was quite well known around the district for mine.

Considering my client throughput and my reliability at doing my job, leaving quite the satisfied customers, I had already been entrusted with organising my own group of joytoys, basically being in charge of my wing of the brothel. Seraphine Bloodfallen was a known name, even outside of our little shithole of a district, at least among the cheaper brothels anyways.

By this time the others had gotten up as well, most of them groaning loudly.

“Shit… morning again already?” Tina mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

Sharon looked worse for wear as she plucked her favourite anal beads still inserted in her loose ass from last night. “Fuck… And I can’t come in late again. I’m booked soon,” she said, growling, although nobody would believe her if she said she wasn’t looking forward to it. My libido was high, she was an outright slut. She could fuck around all day and still want more. Part of it was of course that one of her favourite drugs did wonders to rile you up even more, so she and Tina ended up basically fucking every night before passing out.

“I wish I could skip today,” Sarah mumbled, before groggily getting up, only staggering a little. She was still drunk, as usual. Sarah was the only one of us who only did the job because of the money. She refrained from as much sex outside of work as she could, and typically only ever took clients while she was pissdrunk or completely out of it. I had talked to her multiple times about finding another job, but she couldn’t, or maybe wouldn’t, I didn’t exactly know.

“Well, hurry up. Leon will be here shortly to pick us up,” I said, then stretched lavishly, which had Sharon blatantly looking me over for a moment. Leon was another joytoy who worked with us, one of the few male joytoys I actually liked and had spent some time with. Normally I was more one for women, but he was alright. And he had shown me a few tricks to use on my male clients, which had paid off quite handsomely in my pay.

I vanish into the bath for my first round of hygiene for the day; We would all clean up again at the brothel, but I liked to start here, just to keep the routine going. By the time I was done the rest of the girls had dressed up, although Sarah was already nursing her second beer for the day. The woman was nearly my height just sitting down, not to mention when she stood, even with my heels.

As always, it irked me; My height was the only thing about my appearance that I disliked. Everything else about me was great, I looked good, knew it, and wasn’t ashamed to show it. But my height… ugh. In a way it was a blessing. I looked young, innocent and defilable despite being nearly twenty, and lots of geezers got off on getting me utterly fucked up on smack before they dominated me, so I never had to worry about getting enough jobs. It also helped that I basically dealt with nearly any fetish they knocked at my door with, which meant a wide variety of people who would pay for my services.

Sarah had more problems in that regard. She was beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but she towered over even the taller men. There was a market for everyone, of course, but some were more in demand than others. She was also extremely vanilla, the most she would ever do would be stuff like feet or any of the other, more innocent, things. And that meant fewer jobs, which meant less pay. If money wouldn’t be an issue for her, she would probably be happy about it, knowing her.

Regardless, we had to leave. I quickly pocketed my things, which consisted of a few joints, a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, some of the more esoteric stuff available around the district, and a couple of toys that I would need today that I didn’t have in my room in the brothel. We had most everything you could want there, and they didn’t care what we took home, as long as we had it with us when it was needed, but I never liked doing that. Oh, I liked having toys available for whenever the mood struck me; I just didn’t like having them missing when a client came knocking with a surprise request. I might be a cheap whore high on even cheaper drugs, but I did take my job seriously.

We filed out of the dingy apartment, not that it was much of one, and all went downstairs with a beer in hand. To any outsiders it might be a bit over the top with how fucked up our life and addictions were, but we were hardly an exception in this district. In the last twenty years or so this place had lost a lot of its former glory, thanks to multiple gang takeovers that had ended with less and less people giving a fuck about keeping the image up. As a result narcotics had quickly become widespread, I don’t think there were many if any people living in these parts that didn’t take some form of shit regularly, especially with how cheap the stuff was around here. Coinciding with the gang’s arrival, the clientele shifted, a lot of the wealthy high classers who originally would come to our part of town for a nice time were replaced by bangers, which meant less money, which meant the quality of things went even more to shit. By this point most of the brothels around here were the cheap kind, although Victor’s was a bit of an exception even then.

The Rose Carpet was, well, maybe not specialised on the use of narcotics, but we had probably the loosest rules about that kind of crap in the area. That meant that we got most of the joytoys who did the job for money and didn’t know how to handle it other than drowning their sorrows, just like Sarah. Of course we also got people like me, addicts who couldn’t do another job and didn’t care about bending over for whomever came knocking with a creditchip.

When we arrived downstairs Leon was already waiting for us in his rust bucket of a van, an older model he inherited from his pops. The lump of metal was nothing grand but it worked, and none of us could really afford to take the cab each morning. Even down here in the last reaches of the outer city, the taxi service was incredibly overpriced.

“Morning,” I grumbled as I opened the van door and got in, Tina and Sharon trailing close behind me, while Sarah climbed into the passenger seat. She always took shotgun, despite always complaining that it was too small for her long legs. The moment someone else dared to get near to it however, she threw a fit about how it was hers.

“Morning. You look like shit,” Leon muttered. The man was always worrying about us, which was adorable, but also sometimes incredibly annoying.

“Yeah yeah, we know. Now get going before we are late again,” Sharon grumbled, already visibly excited for the work day despite her bad mood.

“I only got four clients for the day. The first three are regulars, the last booked the entire afternoon and evening. Seems to be the cuddly sort,” I said, checking my schedule and the requests that came with them.

I knew the first would suck, I saw him often. Giant dick, big enough to hurt, and he was totally into anal, so I was already prepared to nurse my bumhole back to health after his session. The other two were relatively normal, although one had once again asked for a collar and leash, plus some ‘catnip’ as he called it. I knew what that meant, it was good that I had packed extra.

The last was a woman, military from the looks of it, but surprisingly, not the dominating kind. Of course there were all types, but my experience with the more normal military girls was that they wanted to be in charge, often that meant more than just saying what we should do. This one however, wanted cuddles, lots and lots of cuddles. The rest of her sheet was… empty, to say the least. No likes or dislikes mentioned, only a footnote of taking things slow. She seemed a bit out of place for this kind of area, truth be told, not to mention her wishes for the day. Not that it mattered much to me, she was cute and was paying, so if she wanted to cuddle the day away, I would oblige her.

“Damn… I’m packed. Eight clients, one a threesome, one a foursome. Hope I can keep it up the entire night,” Sharon said, hand already between her legs, ruining the cheap seats.

“Well, let’s hope you can still walk straight after,” Leon said with a hint of amusement in his voice. “Luckily, my day will be calm. I only have a halfday, rest of the day I’m on service duty.”

“Wanna switch?” Sarah grumbled, already in a bad mood. “Five clients, all of them with some strange fetish. Any of you have experience in foot jobs? Can’t remember the last time I did one of those.”

Of course Sharon was more than willing to help her refresh her memory, and soon the entire drive was filled with her regaling Sarah on how to do a proper job, what to focus on and what to avoid. It was informative, but only in the context of getting better at the job. I didn’t like feet and luckily I didn’t have to deal with that often.

By the time she had gone through everything she knew, we had already parked and I was opening the door.

“Well, good luck y’all, and have fun,” I said in a deadpan tone before I walked off, throwing the empty beer can in a trash bin outside the brothel.

Since I was in charge of my part of the brothel, I had some other shit to do before the clients came in. It mainly involved sorting out some of the more annoying things, like helping newcomers get situated, getting them adjusted, showing them how to do a proper job, that kind of shit. The last part at least could be fun, especially if they were one of the more eager ones.

Heading into the brothel, I quickly found a group of joytoys standing around one of the new guys, who looked highly awkward and maybe a bit overwhelmed.

“Morning,” I mumbled, then looked around, “Anyone need anything before I show him the ropes?”

It turned out, a couple had some minor concerns such as missing or broken toys, nearly empty booze cupboards, broken furniture, the works. I noted all of that down to send it over to Vic, who’d get on it to replace all the stuff. One of the girls had some questions about some of the toys for me, so I spent a couple of minutes showing her how to properly use them.

Of course, as I always did, I reminded them to take their birth control, pay attention to hygiene, the usual shit people tend to quickly forget or ignore. We had a couple of accidental pregnancies before and they always meant trouble. When a joytoy got pregnant, the clients often didn’t want anything to do with it. That meant abortions, or if that wasn’t in the books, another brat ending up at the foster homes nearby. No matter what way things went, there were pretty much always heated tempers, loud words, and inane discussions about responsibility. I knew some clients paid extra for pregnant girls, but that was a rarity around these parts.

The most difficult situations were when one of the guys got a client pregnant. Technically there was a clause that said that anything that could end in pregnancy wasn’t allowed, but since people are stupid, especially when high, drunk, and horny, that rule was so often disregarded that it might as well not exist. Problem was, someone had to fork over child support and what-have-you, and of course, since I was the person in charge, it would be my job to sort the shit out. Fucking grand.

Despite the fucked up work life we had, I always made sure that at least the joytoys under me paid attention to all the important crap. More than once I sent someone home to clean up after they came in too fucked up to work. The redlight district was my home, and while it was a bit of a shithole – actually not just a bit – I wanted to make sure we were taken seriously. My goal was that one day we’d be seen as more than living onaholes, even if that was a bit of a pipedream with the current situation around the district.

After I was done with all the minor stuff it was time to show the new guy the ropes.

“Okay, Paul, was it?” I asked as we walked.

“Yes, ma’am.” The boy replied in an overly formal fashion, obviously a bit embarrassed.

“Okay, Paul. So we generally have a couple of rules around here that you should remember. The two most important for you are the following: No raw dogging. I don’t care if you use a condom or if you pull out, just make sure that we don’t have accidents, okay? And nothing that would hurt you or the client. I don’t care how much money they shell out, that is just not something we do here. If they throw a fit feel free to refer them to me.”

It didn’t take long before we arrived at our hallway, one of the ones on the first floor. I motioned to a door as we walked past.

“That is my room. I’ll be available in between clients, but don’t hesitate to come to me when there is an emergency.”

“The room over there,” I pointed to one of the ones furthest down the hallway, “is yours. You should find anything you need in there. Toys can be taken home, but I recommend against it. If you forget one and ask for one from another room because you need it I will note that. Similarly all toys used should be cleaned after each client. That is your responsibility, and if I notice that you don’t that will mean a whole bunch of annoying shit coming your way, understood?”

“Yes, ma’am!” This guy seemed to be the sort to listen closely and pay attention, which made me like him immediately.

“Good. I don’t care what you do in your free time, who you fuck around with and what kind of shit you push into your veins, but you always need to make sure that you don’t have anything infectious while at work. STD tests, blood tests, that kind of stuff will need to be done once every two weeks at minimum. We have a doc we work with who can do that, so if you need a test just ring them up. I recommend keeping a full papertrail on your tests. It’s annoying, but we had some problems in the past when one of the joytoys didn’t have paperwork for some of the older tests.”

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“Yes, ma’am. I’ll make sure to keep all the tests I do.”

I nodded and smiled at him, just as we arrived at his room.

“Now then, how experienced are you? Not just vanilla stuff, I mean in general?”

He turned beet red and didn’t meet my eyes.

“Uhm… I had a girlfriend once, who I did it with a couple times. Nothing more… uhm… extreme? Though.”

I nodded, “No shame in that. We can spend some time going over things now.”

Saying that, I opened the door and walked inside. Once in the room I quickly checked if everything was in order, then turned around to him.

“Let’s start small. Show me how you would pleasure me with your mouth.”

He looked at me with wide eyes and an obvious boner in his pants.

After a couple rounds with Paul, showing him some of the tips and tricks I had picked up over the years, I left him to his devices. One of the more senior guys would later show him some more, but right now they were all busy, so that would take some time.

Of course, since I had helped him find his footing, I had to spend some time filling in some paperwork. Mainly, what he was able to do at the moment, what kind of clients he accepted, et cetera. He was pretty typical for a guy that had just started as a joytoy, preferring women, but he had mentioned that he was willing to entertain men later on down the line, once he got a bit more confident in the job. He was best with oral, so that was noted, but generally he was good enough at the moment that I was willing to have him train with some other joytoys and without my direct supervision.

Once that was done I had to deal with another rather new addition to the roster. The girl had just started over a week ago and was already showing the telltale signs of someone who was slipping into drug abuse to cope with the fact that she was selling out her body for money. Technically I didn’t need to deal with this, but I preferred to try and help them find another job, much like I had done with Sarah. Of course I couldn’t force them to do anything, and if she wanted to stay, or didn’t have another option, then that was just something I had to accept.

I just really didn’t want to end up with another body we would find behind some dumpster with seven syringes in her arm. That was something we had too often around these parts and I had seen my fair share of overdose cases in the nearly two years I had spent here.

The talk with her went… about as swimmingly as my talks with Sarah usually went. She was pissdrunk and down two doses of Shiver. Shiver was one of the more widespread drugs, especially in the brothels. It heightened sensitivity, worked like something of an aphrodisiac, and basically forced the body into heat. The problem with it was that it completely disabled rational thinking, was highly addictive, and made you much more susceptible to most of the other shit, including alcohol. The end result was like something out of one of those cheap porn movies, a guy or girl who just let anyone do whatever they wanted to them, as long as they got to cum their brains out, even things they would consider deeply disgusting when sober. Of course, that did mean that once they sobered up they tended to be horrified at what they had done, and that led to a quick downward spiral that usually ended in overdose.

I tried my best to give her options, gave her some recommendations about different places she could try to apply to, that kind of stuff, but I doubted that she even properly understood me in her drug induced horny haze.

With a sigh I left her room and noted down a reminder to keep an eye on her.

I liked my job, I really did. I got to enjoy myself, make some money, and get free drugs. These were the kind of things I could do without. I wasn’t squeamish about death, I’d seen too many people die, either in gang shootouts or because of overdose, but that didn’t mean I wanted to see more of that. Especially because I was pretty certain that the girl could have a proper life, if she was able to get out of the shithole she was in.