The increased rocking was a sign Beau was reaching his breaking point. If Quiggs continued treating his friend like a savage animal, Beau would snap and behave like one.
At midnight, believing Quiggs asleep, the guard left for a hook-up in the cell down the hall. Quiggs threw off his blanket, ready to prove his friend was human. The blue veins in the stone walls glowed as the motion triggered the sensors. He pushed his cot and footlocker packed with what he needed to the cell door and pulled out a key.
Beau gripped the bars, his body trembling in anticipation.
“If I unlock the door, you must promise not to escape. The guards will kill you. Understand?”
Beau nodded.
“I can’t let you out. But I can move in with you. We’ll be roommates again.”
Beau stood back, hopping from one foot to another while Quiggs pushed his cot, desk, chair, and footlocker inside. The guard would have a seizure when he discovered Quiggs had locked himself inside the cell with all the keys. Quiggs had picked the lockbox in the jail’s office and stolen them so no one could unlock the door and drag him out. The gray metal bars resisted hacksaws and acid. The governor could starve Quiggs out, but she wouldn’t, fearful Beau would eat Quiggs and cost Rosamunde the income from her husband’s inventions.
Once the Assembly of Ruling Mothers learned Quiggs lived with Beau unharmed, they would declare Beau human and release him to live out a productive life with the Herders Guild.
Beau pounced after Quiggs locked the door. Their size difference was awkward with Beau handling him like a mound of dough while he licked and hugged, snuffled and patted.
“Aaack! Enough licking! Help me move in before the guard returns.”
Quiggs used the extra sheets and rope hidden in his footlocker to rig a privacy curtain around the toilet and sink. He’d also brought a wash bucket, brushes, and a better grade of soap and towels.
Beau scowled at the soap.
“If we’re roommates, you will bathe daily. And you must wear real clothes.” Quiggs pulled out a pair of brown military boxers and an extra-sized brown tee from his backpack. “Commander Bronn’s manservant, Cutty, sent them. He said your friend Max is somewhere tracking ferals, or he’d visit.” He held the clothes against Beau. “Damn, you’re taller than the Commander.”
Beau sniffed the clothes. Bouncing on his toes, he slid the tee over his head. The seams strained at the shoulders. Beau flexed, and the seams ripped, giving him room. The boxers hugged indecently. He strutted, showing off his friend Max’s gift. Quiggs suspected he’d never get them off Beau.
Quiggs stared at the ripped armholes and the outline of muscular buttocks. An awkward zing twitched his cock. It had to be the military clothes. He’d never reacted to the skimpy loincloth.
Beau pushed the cot against the back wall and dragged his pallet beside it. He sat on the cot and spread his legs, motioning for Quiggs to kneel between them.
Quiggs experienced one of the few blank mind pages of his life.
Beau chuffed and pulled Quiggs over to kneel facing the bars so he could groom the messy braid. He made happy throaty rumbles as Quiggs sat unmoving with arms resting awkwardly on a pair of muscled thighs surpassing his best fantasies of Miller from the shower.
So… damn… mortifying.
Beau sniffed the air, his hands stilling on the braid. He understood the smell of pre-cum meant a visit behind the closed door of the bathroom. He tied off the braid, then pointed at the curtain. Beau never questioned Quiggs about his releases. He treated those times matter-of-factly. Like being hungry and eating a slice of bread.
Quiggs grunted “No” and crawled on the cot to sleep. He flipped the blanket over his head and faced the wall, listening to Beau stretching before curling up on the pallet.
The blue light in the cell block dimmed as movement ceased.
There were five minutes of quiet before the guard returned and the whole place lit up like a lightning storm.
Chapter Nine
The news of Quiggs’s locking himself inside the cell with Beau enraged Rosamunde and her mother. They sent scathing letters ordering him to move out at once. How dare he humiliate them? The arrangement sparked filthy speculation. The governor reminded him the marriage contract forbade extramarital sex.
Quiggs fired back a reply. He was under a twenty-four-hour watch. Beau was impotent and a non-male. The arrangement was to prove to the Assembly Beau was human, docile, and trustworthy.
It was the kind of feud that paid a herald’s rent.
When three days passed without Quiggs eaten or raped and with Beau trusted to wear clothes, a committee of Ruling Mothers, dressed in their fitted black jackets and skirts, visited to determine if Beau was human, safe, employable, and able to communicate.
Beau wore the scarlet shirt and blue knee-length shorts of a master herder. He combed back his white-blond hair to emphasize his well-shaped human skull. The angles of his face were a bit off with unnaturally high cheekbones, an exotic tilt to his eyes, and a nose only a tiny bit flattish. The effect was a rugged beauty, as if the beast was chiseled away until the human counterpart dominated. The slanted eyes betrayed his feral blood, but their depths conveyed an unmistakable humanity.
Coached by Quiggs, Beau behaved shyly, eyes downcast as the six women, two from each city, bluntly discussed him as if he were deaf instead of mute. He demonstrated his writing skills and downplayed his strength. He bared his teeth to show he had no fangs. When asked to display his claws, he teared up, horrified at failing the inspection because of disobedience.
Quiggs intervened, patting Beau’s shoulder. “He only displays when lives are endangered. Showing claws is involuntary. Like Commander Bronn’s displays in battle.”
He mentioned the commander’s quarter-feral heritage often. He wished the hero were present to lend support, but the commander patrolled the outlands investigating several sightings of feral scouts. His letter to Quiggs expressed confidence the Assembly would vote yes if Beau behaved for the committee.
Demonstrating Beau’s ability to earn a living, the officers of the Herders Guild brought in newborn orphaned triplets. Beau gently pulled them from the chute, then bottle-fed each. The Mothers’ faces softened.
Brooke carried in a pregnant doe traumatized by a fin lunging from the canal and biting her flank. Petting and cooing until her shock wore off, Beau stitched her flank through the bars. He coaxed her into eating mash from his hands, then from a bucket, with her tail wagging.
“He’s just saved four goats to graze the vines,” Brooke informed the committee. “Without goats, the vines cross the canal. We need him, ladies.”
The last issue was Beau’s self-control.
With Quiggs holding his hand, Beau meekly submitted to a guard pressing a spear to his throat while a physical inspection began. The oldest Mother pulled on a pair of gloves before reaching through the bars to give Beau a tentative poke on the arm, demonstrating more bravery than the men who’d tested him. While Beau held still, she ran her hand down his forearm to examine his thick finger pads. The other Mothers put on gloves and took turns. They deliberately tempted him by trailing fingers up and down his thighs and squeezing his cock.
“Definitely impotent,” the Ruling Mothers whispered among themselves.
The committee left, assuring Quiggs their report to the Assembly for tomorrow’s vote would be favorable. Sign language and writing established his communications skills. His herding skills were invaluable, his behavior deferential.
What was taking so long?
Quiggs paced the cell waiting for the result. It was the third week locked up, and he was as stir crazy as Beau. Beau swung from bar to bar, working off his energy. He somersaulted and landed on his feet by Quiggs.
Before Quiggs registered a sound, Beau’s face lit as he heard footsteps in the tunnel.
Dr. Keith walked in alone, minus his white coat, with his side whiskers trimmed and the smell of cologne rolling off him. The doctor asked the guard
to leave to give them a few minutes of privacy. The doctor wore his pleasant expression. The one Quiggs remembered before he was strapped and prepped for surgery. Quiggs curled his hands around the bars. Beau picked up a marker and slate, his eyes wary.
“Good morning, Quiggs. And a very good morning to you, Master Herder Beau. I am pleased to inform you the Assembly has declared Beau a free citizen providing he is… neutered.”
Quiggs’s whoop broke off as the last word sunk in. “Why? He didn’t respond when the committee members groped him… and… well… he ignores me when I’m behind the curtain rubbing off.” He blushed at the admission.
“The Ruling Mothers on the committee were middle-aged. The Assembly worries what will happen when he meets a fertile young woman. As for you, he considers you family.”
“This is stupid. Beau won’t force himself on a young woman.”
The doctor gave him a look of sympathy. “Quiggs… what if a woman bearing a grudge against you fabricates an unwelcome sexual advance against Beau and submits the grievance to the Assembly?”
Quiggs’s gasp upset Beau, who wrapped an arm around his waist. The punishment was death. It would be the word of a half-breed against his accuser. If he was neutered, charges could never be fabricated. “Yesterday the committee seemed satisfied Beau was impotent. What changed their minds?”
A muscle jumped in the doctor’s cheek, causing the side whiskers to bristle. “Governor Lyre pointed you out as an example of delayed sexual urges responding to the right visual stimuli. Someone informed her about your shower with the active cadets. Citing your history, she convinced the Ruling Mothers a delayed awakening posed a danger to women, especially to Rosamunde.”
“Beau’s transition is over. He’s mute and impotent. Aren’t those defects cruel enough without adding mutilation?”
Beau’s lip quivered as he wrote. I am scared. I do not want my balls cut off.
Quiggs patted him. “Don’t worry. You’ll walk out of here with your balls swinging. I’ll hire advisors. I’ll send for Commander Bronn. I’ll agree to finish the steam engine if the governor admits she’s wrong and requests another vote.”
The doctor pulled two consent forms from inside his jacket. “The Assembly wants Beau’s decision within the hour. He may choose benevolent execution, or he may choose the surgery.”
“The door stays locked until Commander Bronn gets here. I’ve stashed away food for two weeks in my footlocker.”
“You have one hour to unlock the cell door. If you refuse, archers will position themselves around the sides with arrows dipped in poison. Grappling hooks will tear down the curtain so he can’t hide. They won’t fire a killing shot. Just a few hits to break the skin. He’ll die slowly, in great agony, until you unlock the door. Then an archer will aim a lethal strike to his heart to end his misery.”
Beau panicked. He clutched Quiggs’s arm.
Huh. The bitch thought she had outwitted him. Quiggs sat on the cot and focused. Beau hunkered at his feet, trusting him to solve the problem.
The doctor held out a contract in each hand. “Let Beau decide which one. You can’t think your way out of this.”
Quiggs mused aloud, absently stroking Beau’s hair. “What would change the Governor’s mind?”
“You can’t win. Convince Beau to have the surgery. He won’t miss what he’s never experienced. I promise to give him the best of care. The surgery is easier if he goes without his supper tonight.” The doctor’s eyes widened, as if realizing what happened when Beau starved. “Is fasting a problem?”
“Beau won’t eat me if he’s hungry.” Dammit. No one really trusted Beau.
The doctor slid one contract through the bars. “Here, Beau. This is the consent form for surgery.”
Beau shook his head, letting it float to the floor by the cot. He pointed to the other form the doctor held. He chose to die.
Quiggs picked up the consent for surgery. “Beau… do you trust me?”
Beau nodded vigorously.
“Sign for the surgery.”
Beau scrambled behind the privacy curtain.
“You can’t force his consent,” the doctor said. “I will tell the Assembly he chooses benevolent extermination. Unlock the cell when the executioners come for him.”
“Castration means the Assembly regards Beau as fully male now. Did you know my marriage contract gives me the right to choose a second husband for my personal pleasure? The governor drafted the clause.”
The doctor lost his unflappable composure. “Shit! I told you not to think!”
“My choice of any male. Doesn’t matter what Rosamunde thinks, providing he’s a law-abiding free citizen. If Beau has the surgery, he becomes a free citizen with the full support of the Ruling Mothers and the governor.”
“The law forbids such a union!”
“The law says a man with feral blood cannot marry and have sex with his human wife. Beau can’t break the law if he’s castrated. As for touching? She can’t accuse him of anything sexual because the Assembly has voted him sexually inactive if he has the surgery.” Quiggs rubbed his hands together. Oh, yeah, he’d humiliate the First Family. “Therefore, surgery makes Beau eligible to become my second husband.”
“You wouldn’t dare. Such a union would raise filthy speculations of your private life.”
“People will believe I’m using him for sex. The scandal will ruin the governor’s reelection, and Rosamunde will never let me into her bed except for procreation.”
“The governor will call your bluff. She’ll demand to see the written consent before she repeals the vote. Beau’s scared to sign it.”
“He’ll sign if I swear to marry him after the surgery. I’ve never broken a promise to him.”
Beau leaped from behind the curtain, snatched the consent form from Quiggs’s hands, and signed it. He held it out the bars for the doctor.
What the fuck just happened? Quiggs stared at his empty hands, then at the doctor’s hands holding the signed consent.
Dr. Keith appeared dazed.
Beau hugged Quiggs, licking his face.
“Ugh! Not on the mouth. What’s the matter with you? You know this is a trick, right?”
Beau grabbed a slate and marker, choosing his words carefully. It is a good trick. The governor thinks I am scared to lose my balls. But I am not scared if my Quiggs promises to marry me. I have the surgery. We trick her good, yes?
“No! You’re missing the point! You’re not ever having the surgery. She’s the one who’s supposed to be scared to cut off your balls. She’s supposed to change the vote and set you free without having the surgery.”
Beau shook his head, scribbling as fast as the words flew from Quiggs. I want bad showers with my husband Quiggs. I touch you everywhere. I suck your cock. I bend over for you. We share a bed. This makes me happy.
Beau rested his hand on Quiggs’s cock, and damn if the idiot prick wasn’t plumping. “Stop it! If anyone witnesses you touching me, Rosamunde can dissolve my marriage and take everything.” He glanced at the doctor to plead for him not to tell.
The doctor was leaving, staring uncertainly at the signed form he held.
Beau shoved another slate at Quiggs’s blushing face. I smell your cum. Beau wore a sly grin as he looked down his great height at Quiggs. Beau knew Quiggs’s routine in the shower. He heard the gasps of release. Now Beau wanted to be included instead of locked out.
Quiggs gripped the bars of the cell door and yelled for the doctor to come back.
The cell door swung open with him clinging to it. Beau pried Quiggs’s hands loose and booted him behind the yellow line. Quiggs heard the door slam and lock before he got to his feet and spun around. He threw himself at the bars, reaching through to swipe the key Beau twirled.
Beau stepped a taunting inch out of reach, grinning at his future husband.
“Fuck you, Beau! Give me the key!”
Beau tossed it over his shoulder. He licked a finger and stuck it down his pants to
play with his hole, his green eyes fixed on Quiggs’s reaction.
Quiggs gagged, then raced after Dr. Keith, yelling at him to tear up the consent form.
The archers outside the tunnel grabbed Quiggs when he raced after Dr. Keith, yelling for him to stop. The men bound Quiggs’s hands behind his back while the doctor slowed to a stop, squared his shoulders, and turned around to listen.
Quiggs was so scared, his voice squeaked. “Tear it up. Beau doesn’t understand it’s a bluff.”
The doctor folded the form and put it inside his suit pocket. “Too late. The Assembly’s vote legally obligates me to perform the surgery if Beau consented. I warned you not to think!” He stormed off.
Policemen escorted Quiggs to his apartment. The men apologized profusely as they untied his hands, but they were ordered to arrest him if he left his apartment before noon tomorrow.
Fuck, fuck. Shit, shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Quiggs was honor bound to marry Beau. There was a real possibility sex would—ewwwwwww—actually happen between them.
Chapter Ten
Commander Max Bronn reached the site of the raid while the trail was fresh. It occurred on the third leg of the triangle, flowing toward Port Memphis.
A thick layer of scent hung where three female ferals had hunkered down in the vines watching their target, a young herder with twelve grazers. The shimmery canopy of purple saw-edged leaves with silvery green undersides shielded the ferals from the two archers in the watchtower across the canal. The four soldiers with spears and axes assigned to defend this stretch were distracted by an aggressive fin slithering from the water after a goat.
The seconds of distraction provided one female the chance to dart in and shake the herder senseless, cutting off his cries as she carried him off. The second female snapped the necks of two goats, holding them with one under each arm as if they were chickens instead of two-hundred pound grazers. A third female, the fleetest, swiped the vines away like cobwebs for her sisters to follow without dropping their prizes.
Ingenious Page 9