a/n: warnings: forcefeeding

--

They shuffle the row of hollow-eyed shifters down the trucks, into the gaping maw of the pit. Built on the outskirts of the capital, it’s an underground arena that has lasted since anyone can remember.

Someone tries running. The guards are on the shifter instantly, putting him down efficiently.

It’s like they were waiting for someone to run, so they could make an example of him. The wolf shifter twitches, dying under the spears pinning him to the ground.

No one else runs, after that.

Jongdae’s shaking. He keeps the taste of almond and butter in his mouth, for as long as he can.

Artificial light, produced by sunstones lining the wall, throws the corridors into relief.

It’s not – clean, but there’s none of the fresh blood that Jongdae was expecting, nor pieces of people’s bodies lying around.

They each get locked into a small wooden room, small enough that Jongdae can’t extend both arms fully. It’s long, though, long enough that he can almost lie down straight.

Jongdae’s used to the cage and the aching, miserable cramps that wreck his body. This is a luxury.

They even give them food – a small plate of rice, some pieces of meat, and a cup of water. Jongdae eats it so fast he has to fight not to throw up.

He can’t. He can’t throw up.

He curls up in the cell, thinking of his clan. That doesn’t help.

He thinks of the man that sent Jongdae to the Pit, but also fed him.  He thinks of the sudden, sweet taste that flooded his mouth.

That helps. Jongdae finally falls into real sleep, the pain eased.

--

Everyone’s waiting. They want the shifters healthy, it seems. Twice a day, they get led to a central area, where the ground is made of metal. It slopes downwards, forming a natural tray.

They get hosed down here. Jongdae looks forward to this; to fresh, cold water rinsing the dirt of the cell away. It’s the only time he feels remotely human.

--

Jongdae’s first fight is a group one. Six of them – a monkey shifter, three dogs, and two cats.

The only reason he survives it is because there’s a clouded leopard shifter that is so vicious it kills everyone else.

If it is called survival, that is. It’s on Jongdae, tearing viciously at him; he blacks out, and later he finds out that they thought he was dead.

But he wasn’t. So Jongdae’s in a guest room, where he is almost dead. The smell of grass and medicine floats in the air, comforting.

Jongdae’s going home soon, he knows. He’ll see the rest of his clan, soon.

But there’s Kai, his forehead. He has small medicine balls in his hand, and he wants Jongdae to eat them.

Even near-death, they still have to have two orderlies to keep his mouth open. They put a ring gag in his mouth, that forces his teeth open and keeps his tongue flattened. Jongdae feels his throat working, trying to throw up, but he has nothing left inside.

“The more you want to die,” Kai says, “the more I want you to live.”

They grind it into powder and mix it with liquid, in front of Jongdae. The wounds all over him keep tugging open; it’s not the pain, Jongdae’s past pain already – but it keeps leaking out all over him, like his brother’s blood did, when he died on top of Jongdae.

“He’s panicking,” someone says, and someone else mutters, “no he’s not.”

Kai pours it down Jongdae’s throat himself, his fingers gripping Jongdae’s chin so tight he can’t keep his eyes closed. Through blurry eyes, he can see Kai’s intense stare, the small, wild smile that says – try to defy me, try it.

Jongdae’s too weak to cough, even. Kai lets him fall back onto the bed, like a marionette with broken strings. He lies there, face wet, saliva leaking out the corners of his mouth and back down his throat, hoping that it’s going to suffocate him.

He feels it will. But it doesn’t, and as though to make up for that, Jongdae gets to fall unconscious again.

They wake him up again, and again, repeating the procedure. Jongdae’s lost count.

But Jongdae knows when it’s working, because he’s strong enough to throw up, this time. Muscles convulsing, bile and liquid leak out of his mouth, down the side of his throat.

“What a waste.” Kai touches him. “Did you get all of it out?”

He motions. Someone passes him a long, metal rod.

“If we get it all out of you, I can feed you another dose,” Kai says warmly.

He lets Jongdae  panic; lets Jongdae struggle fruitlessly against all the bonds, rubbing his wounds open; leaves him to wallow in memories, relieving that day again – he can do this because the gag’s still in Jongdae’s mouth, so he can’t bite his own tongue.

“Be good,” Kai cajoles, Jongdae’s hair. Jongdae’s crying, whole body shaking, as they loosen the bonds, and Kai turns him so he’s lying on his front, a basin put considerately before him.

Jongdae keeps shaking his head, keeps pleading, keeps begging.

“Will you do it again?”

Jongdae shakes his head, hard.

“Then I’ll only do this once,” Kai says. Someone holds Jongdae’s head firmly, and Kai inserts the metal rod in, over his tongue, down his throat.

It’s invading his throat, rubbing roughly over Jongdae’s already sore and raw throat. Jongdae tries to keep it in, but once the gag reflex is triggered, it’s hard to stop.

He keeps throwing up, up and up again, unstoppably. He throws up until it feels like there’s nothing left inside him, until his mind is a painful, white blank, until his fingers can’t even curl into a fist, all the energy has been taken away.

It’s the way Jongdae loses control over his own body, that he hates. He’s trapped in this useless piece of meat that’s falling apart, that keeps falling apart, that keeps falling apart with Jongdae inside of it.

Kai wipes his mouth clean – lips, and the inside.

When Jongdae stops shivering, they feed him again. Flip him onto his back and pour it down his throat again, the white lights from above blinding.

He tries, he really tries. Everyone seems to relax, the hands letting go of him.

Jongdae keeps his lips pressed shut, stubbornly, but it rushes back out of his throat, seeping out of the corners of his mouth.

Jongdae lets them turn him over obediently, too numb and too scared to fight back.

Kai takes out the ring gag, that drips with vomit and medicine. Jongdae tries to close his mouth, fails, the muscles too stiff.

Kai presses the rod in again, carefully, and Jongdae throws up, again, again, again.

They lift Jongdae off the wooden table, and put him in Kai’s hold, on the floor.

He’s docile, this time. Kai massages the sides of his mouth, and feeds Jongdae small portions of the medicine, pouring it down using a porcelain spoon.

Someone passes Kai something. It’s a small clay pot; there’s the smell of mint, fresh and clean. Kai alternates the medicine, with that.

Jongdae wants to throw up, but he can’t, because the smell is fresh and clean; it keeps everything down.

They put him back on the wooden table, and re-bandage the wounds. Kai’s there, the whole time, soothing Jongdae.

--

The pain starts, after that. Jongdae’s suddenly cold, as though he’s stripped and thrown into a winter pond. It’s the kind of cold that gets into your bones, to places inside you you didn’t even know existed; seems to linger, no matter how warm you get, after that. It’s the kind of cold that threatens to eat you up inside so you only can remember bad memories, after that.

“It’s cold?” Kai gets onto the table. He hugs Jongdae, draping a blanket over the both of them.

Jongdae clings to Kai, searching for warmth. Kai seems to like it; hugs Jongdae tighter, and orders someone to turn up the heat.

It’s hot, after that. The kind of heat that leaves you dizzy and your limbs weak, soul floating on the surface of heat that threatens to rise like acidic smoke through it.

Jongdae lets Kai take away the blanket; take away the loose cloth covering Jongdae, exposing him to the air.

Jongdae plucks at his bandages, but Kai pins his hands down. He ties them back to the mooring posts, again, leaving Jongdae shifting restlessly, sweat beading and lips cracking, slowly.

They hose Jongdae down; Jongdae can feel blood, soaking out, together with the water.

Why isn’t he dead?

It’s cold, again. Kai climbs back beside Jongdae, holding him. Warm.

“Want – to die,” Jongdae manages to whisper.

“You want to die?” Kai asks.

Jongdae manages to nod.

“Don’t make me angry,” Kai says. Jongdae closes his eyes and shakes. Kai touches him, says, “don’t say that again,” and Jongdae nods, like a doll.

This time, the cold lasts long enough that Jongdae’s convinced he’s dead. It lasts long enough to take all sensation away from him, until he’s unconscious and he didn’t even know how or when.

--

It’s like the past few hours were a bad dream, when Jongdae wakes up. He’s still sleeping next to Kai, but they’re on a bed, a soft woollen blanket pulled over them.

Jongdae’s skin itches, but there are no marks on them. His skin is suspiciously clean and shiny, lacking even the wounds made, in the Pit.

His jaws still ache, though.

Kai’s awake, and looking at Jongdae, dark eyes half-lidded. He pulls Jongdae in to him, wrinkling the bedsheets.

Jongdae’s resisting, because he’s scared. Kai just looks at him, and it’s Jongdae that gives in first. Curls up closer to Kai.

“Hungry?”

Jongdae freezes, unmoving.

“No,” he says. “No. I don’t want it.”

“Still so stubborn,” Kai says. “I meant food. Normal food.”

He sits up, blanket falling away. Kai’s half- underneath.

There are scars, criss-crossing that body of his. Battle scars, so many for one so young.

Jongdae stays in place, watching, as Kai gets out of bed, going to the small table in the centre. He takes back a plate of steamed chicken meat, diced and sprinkled with parsley.

“Small bites,” Kai says, “to let your stomach get used to it.”

Jongdae’s still hesitating. He says, low, “I’m scared,” because he knows Kai’s expecting an answer.

“I know,” Kai says, gently. “We’ll go slow.”

Eating has never been an ordeal before. This time, Jongdae doesn’t know if he can ever eat again.

He makes himself chew and swallow woodenly. Kai alternates between feeding Jongdae and himself. He doesn’t say anything when Jongdae stops, says  in a small voice, “I can’t.”

Kai doesn’t mention anything about what happened, and neither does Jongdae ask. He reads a paper scroll, while Jongdae closes his eyes, pulling the woollen blanket over him again.

It’s still chicken meat, the next time Kai wakes him up. There are herbs, this time, slightly sweet. Jongdae forces himself to eat as much as he can.

Kai makes him get off the bed. Jongdae stands there in his thin robe, unsure of what to do. Kai takes his hand and walks him around the room, circle after circle, letting Jongdae get used to the feeling of walking.

It might seem strange, but Jongdae’s body feels different. It feels like it’s not his. It’s weak, but at the same time, as it recovers, hour after hour, it seems stronger.

Jongdae keeps making mistakes with his footsteps, because he tends to step out a bit further than he intends to. He bumps into Kai, more than once, because he estimated the distance wrongly.

Kai’s patient with him. They keep walking around the room.

Kai starts to throw small objects at him. He throws the pillow, a plate, a cup – things that Jongdae should catch easily, except he doesn’t. It’s good that these don’t break easily.

By the time the next meal is here, brought in by a solemn guard, Jongdae’s almost back to normal.

Still chicken, again. Kai makes Jongdae finish the whole plate this time, feeding him by hand, piece by piece, insistently.

It’s back to sleep, after that. Jongdae’s a bit tired, from the exercise.

--

“Feeling better?” Kai asks. He pats Jongdae kindly.

Jongdae nods, yawns.

“That’s good,” Kai says. “I should thank the medical division, then, for the pills. Do you know what these do, Jongdae?”

Jongdae shakes his head.

“They accelerate healing,” Kai says, “and also, change your body. It should make you faster. Stronger.”

Jongdae’s still processing that, when Kai says, “do better in the Pit, this time.”

He gets off the bed. Extends hands, to lock the slave collar (that Jongdae didn’t even realize had been taken out) around his neck again.

He attaches a chain to it, and tugs. Waits, patiently, for Jongdae to get off the bed.

“Pit?”

“You’re going back in,” Kai confirms.

“If I’m injured.”

“Of course I’ll save you,” Kai says. “I still have a whole chest of that medicine left, Jongdae.”

Jongdae lets Kai lead him out, cold.

--

a/n: what constitues mature?? i'm not sure how graphic etc the story will go hm, but I don't want to scar anyone/trigger w/o warning...so read the warnings at the top of each chapter 

and awesome, thanks for all the love <3