Hucow U-Verse: The Galactic Survival Games

NOTE: All characters in this story are fictional and over 18 years of age.

The BDSM-inspired scenarios take place under purely fictional circumstances and aren't in any way intended to represent or guide real-life practices. This story explores dark erotic horror themes for mature audiences over 18 years of age. If you are a sensitive reader, please take the time to review the trigger warnings because this fictionalized concept may not be the story for you.

The content includes but is not limited to:

• Non-Con• Explicit Sexual Content• Violence and Abuse• Manipulation and Coercion• Drug Use and Drugging• Physical and Psychological Torture• BDSM and Power Exchange Dynamics• Body Modification and Transformation• Ménage and Polyamorous Relationships

This novel explores dark themes and intense scenarios that are strictly fictional. Please consider your comfort level with such materials before reading.

If you're still with me, this is your last chance before you read something highly depraved, which might make you wonder... What the hell's wrong with me! In which case, I really can't help you with that answer because, clearly, I was twisted enough to write it. Happy reading... consider yourself warned.

Chapter 1

The smack of my knee on the underside of the desk echoed in the silence of my office along with a few choice curse words. Swiveling my chair around, I typed a series of commands into the computer terminal, then hit enter.

Code ran across the screen, and I watched the electronic trail for errors.

A ‘continue message’ popped up on screen.

“Here goes nothing.” I smacked the crap out of the key and waited.

The system froze for a split second before the terminal executed the command, and the screen boasted a stream of compiled data.

I glanced at the clock on the wall, taking in the time: 10:32 PM.

Fuck. How’d it get so late?

I inhaled deep, filling my lungs, exhaled nice and slow, and then cracked my knuckles.

Well fuck. Time flies when you’re having fun.

My stomach grumbled and my bladder ached.

Or when you’re busy troubleshooting a headache of epic proportions.

I snatched my water bottle off the desk and headed for the breakroom, swinging my hips and sauntering like I owned the place.

“Don’t worry, peeps,” I said with a scoff, thinking of the morning shift. “You’ll thank me later.”

Halfway down the hall, the motion-activated lights blinked to life, illuminating my path down the corridor. I passed several offices on my right before the hallway opened into a large cubicle farm.

Individual workspaces lined the back wall in rows of six, three deep, with the entrance to the kitchen to my left. Winding around the modular desks.

“How’s it going, Beta?” I greeted the fish of one of my fellow employees, Sally Faye Wright, then sprinkled some food in the plant vase.

Beta came to the surface, blew a few bubbles as if to say hello—or thanks—and then dived after the flakes, sucking them up in his open mouth.

Yesterday, which was Friday, at the stroke of five, Sally vacated the building for some weekend R&R at an Air BnB on the coast of Maine, so I told her I’d look in on her little dude.

Hell, most people left at closing time, but not me. Nope, I was married to my work.

The winding path took me to the breakroom. The moment I stepped inside, the fluorescent lights flickered on, flooding the area, and bringing it into focus. The coffee pot sat on the countertop, and I made a pit stop in front of the sink, bottle in hand.

The water faucet screeched, and I filled my bottle, humming a tune. The sight of a discarded carton of half and half in the trash got me thinking.

To get a caffeine fix or not to get a caffeine fix. That was the question.

I capped my bottle, moved to the refrigerator, and retrieved the creamer.

Oh, hell. Like I need an excuse to drink a cup of Joe.

The empty coffee pot called my name, and my mind drifted to the thought of a hot brew. I gave in to my inner caffeine whore, fetched the glass carafe, and rinsed it out.

My mouth watered at the thought. Drooling was more like it. You’d have thought it was my turbo, jet-setting double dildo vibrator.

Hmm. I’ll need to pull that bad boy out when I get home.

My pussy clenched at the thought, and my clit throbbed in anticipation.

Once again, my stomach rumbled, making its displeasure known. The way it carried on, if I didn’t put something in it soon, it might turn inward and eat itself.

“Fuck, I’m starved.” I held the pot in front of me for a quick inspection, then turned it this way and that. “I could devour a horse at this point.”

I had missed dinner long ago, and now, I wasn’t sure I wanted anything too heavy in my gut. But I knew I needed something to take the edge off just not heavy enough to reek havoc.

Reflux is a thing—a fucking beast of a thing.

After swishing water around in the coffee pot, I dumped the contents in the sink, checked it for residue, and then placed the carafe under the spout, and when ready, I turned that bad boy on.

Once the pot brewed, I grabbed a cup and doctored it with a splash of the newly opened half-and-half. My fingers clutched the handle of the mug, and I sipped the creamy heaven, savoring the robust flavor.

Damn. A real dinner sounds good about now.

I glanced at the clock, taking a moment to read the time. But it would need to wait. Nothing was open this late.

The coffee maker gurgled in protest. The damn thing was on its last leg. I drew in a deep breath, and the scent of roasted beans invaded my nose. I took another sip of my brew. Adding one more splash of half and half, and then topped off my cup with more coffee.

Slowly, I brought the steaming beverage to my lips, inhaled the aroma, and took a swig.

“Mmmm. Perfect.” I hummed.

Fuck. I deserve it.

At least my treat of choice wasn’t some alcohol-laden beverage. I folded my hands around the mug and warmed them and relished the moment. Afterall, who knew what the fuck tomorrow would bring.

Hell, once this job was done, I’d take some time off, kick my shoes off, and maybe lounge by the pool.

Could get one hell of a tan.

Down the hallway and back in my office, I perched on the edge of my chair.

“Okay. Where were we?” I typed out a string of instructions on the computer.

The screen flashed, and several windows popped up. I hit the enter key and then the escape button, closing a few of the interfaces. An hour later, I pushed back from my desk.

“Housekeeping, done. Everything looks good.” I stretched my arms over my head and yawned, my jaws cracking. “Let’s lock this shit up!”

I leaned over, typed in a command, and then logged off the mainframe. The screen darkened, and I picked up my mug of cold Joe.

The clock on the wall now read: 11:47 PM.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” I downed the last of my drink and then set the empty cup on my desk. “Well, I might as well make a visit to the ladies’ room before heading out.”

I opened the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet, stuffed my favorite mouse inside—a girl couldn’t be too careful—then locked it up tight along with my highlighters.

Shit sprouts legs and walks away the moment I leave work.

Standing, I meandered toward the doorway, and then I flipped the light switch.

Darkness swallowed the room, and a soft glow emitted from the exit sign overhead. I walked out of my office, into the cubical farm, and then headed for the bathroom.

Each step of the way, the hairs on my arms stood on end, and a chill raced down my spine.

The restroom’s motion-activated lights flicked on, and the door closed behind me. I waved at the camera overhead.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Security Guard, I’m not shitting a bomb or something crazy like that.” The adrenaline rush hit me, and I flushed.

Although, I’ll admit, I did have a big meal at lunch. And what goes in must come out. I chuckled.

But lucky for him, I was here only to take a piss.

Or is that to leave a piss?

I approached the second stall and then entered the lavatory. The door closed, and I latched the lock.

Next, I tugged down my pants along with my panties and then sat on the toilet. The muscles in my bladder relaxed, and a stream of urine flowed.

Oh, thank the fuck. A sigh left my lips.

Most days, I didn’t think twice about going to the bathroom during the wee hours of the night, or morning, at work, but this time was different.

Something raised the hair on the back of my neck once more, and I had an eerie feeling that I wasn’t alone.