Male Dogs

After being locked into solitary, I fell asleep almost at once.

Sleep came quickly. The faint hush of my own breathing brushed against my ears, and the pitch-black dark wrapped my entire body, so I could finally surrender to the drowsiness I had been holding back.

An uncomfortable posture?

It did not matter. Just as hunger makes the best seasoning, the craving for sleep became a source of rest so absolute it erased everything else.

"Haaah… huu…"

And so I drifted off.

The anxiety born from the mere existence of solitary confinement, and everything I had been told about how inmates were treated once they entered the Solitary Confinement Area, kept me from fully letting go. But once sleep took me, all of it became meaningless.

As if this were a chance to make up for lost rest, my brain shut down and my body went limp, fusing with the carrier.

That was how the sweet dream began.

A feeling of being cut off from everything in the world. And yet it was good. This was the first real rest I had been given on Prison Island.

It could hardly be called proper rest—just being curled up and sealed inside a carrier—but the simple fact that I could breathe without anyone's oppression or pressure felt wonderful.

…Or so I had thought.

But that peace lasted only a moment. A voice brushing past my ear made me open my eyes.

The carrier was thick, yet it must have been made of some special material, because outside sounds came through clearly.

Judging by Leviathan's voice, quite some time had passed. Thanks to that, I had managed several hours of deep sleep, and the crushing sleep deprivation had eased, if only a little.

Had he gone easy on me on purpose?

I had no way of knowing why, but in that instant I felt I had been saved.

Then Yejin's voice reached me.

The carrier's outer wall made it sound as if she were murmuring from very far away, yet the words came through clearly enough to understand.

A twinge of guilt for having burdened her made me hesitate. More than that, unlike Yejin, who had been granted permission to speak, I had not—so I was afraid of whether I was even allowed to answer.

Fortunately, Yejin told me how to respond before I had to figure it out myself. Following her instructions, I struck the wall three times in a steady rhythm, and she answered.

Huh? What was that?

Another name I had already heard several times on Prison Island.

Male Dogs.

The mention of this unknown existence once again sparked my curiosity. But sealed inside the carrier, I had no way to express anything.

Yejin kept passing me words, still worried about me. But the moment Leviathan's bark cut through the air, she fell silent and diligently hauled the carrier after them.

— Creeak. Creeak.

Inside the rolling carrier. Even locked away, I could feel every stretch of the corridor I had once crawled and walked along toward the torture area.

The unevenness of the floor I had felt under bare feet came through even more sharply now that I was sealed inside a wheeled carrier.

Our destination was the Solitary Confinement Area—located at the far end of the Confinement Area, before you reached the torture wing.

Since it was in the same Confinement Area, we should have arrived quickly.

"…Huh?"

But contrary to my expectations, the carrier was dragged all the way to the torture area. Apparently they meant to lock my cellmates in the torture rooms first, then take me to the Solitary Confinement Area.

Sure enough.

The familiar exchange in front of the torture room doors reached me, and soon my cellmates filed inside and their voices vanished.

Everyone entered the torture rooms, and silence settled over the corridor.

Sealed in the carrier, alone with my ears strained toward the outside world, it was not long before a voice came.

Leviathan.

"Yes!… Ah. Right—he said it doesn't carry…."

I knew the sound would not reach him, yet I answered his call on reflex. Then I realized and shut my mouth.

"…."

Leviathan volunteering unnecessary information. Honestly, the thought had crossed my mind, but I had decided it couldn't be true…

Yet once he said it out loud, the weight tipped toward the idea that he had been considerate enough to fix my sleep deprivation.

But no. That had to be my imagination. If he were truly that kind a guard, he would never have slapped me with three hundred Demeanor Penalty Points just for smiling.

"…."

An explanation ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of solitary followed. Once again, the term that came up was Male Dogs.

Just what were they, to be mentioned like this?

And what did he mean by implying the Male Dogs could open this door?

I remembered Jaehee being dragged off by them at the execution grounds, and the recent incidents of people getting badly hurt after being caught by Male Dogs. Pointless fear welled up.

But I was a prisoner sealed in a carrier. At a single touch from Leviathan my body would be hauled wherever he pleased. There was nothing I could do.

I could not even make a proper sound from inside. All I could do now was endure, using the noises from outside as my only reference, until I was freed from this thing.

With those words, the carrier jolted over a large threshold in the floor. The shock rattled through my whole body, and I knew we had entered the Solitary Confinement Area.

No—my body told me.

"Kyaah…! Nngh… nnnh."

The Stimulation Spores went wild.

Curled as I was, I moved my arms as far as I could and touched my nipples. The spores shifted so vigorously I could feel them even at my fingertips, caressing my nipples like a man's hands.

The stimulation I struggled with most. That, exactly.

Barely a few seconds had passed, yet the sensation was already so intense that biting my lip was not enough—I had to force out ragged breaths.

And still the carrier rolled on.

It kept rolling, then stopped somewhere.

Through a haze of overwhelming arousal, Leviathan's voice reached my ears. He seemed to be contacting the control room.

Then another voice answered.

Unfamiliar terms poured out. But I had no room to care about any of that.

From the moment we entered the Solitary Confinement Area, the spores had begun tormenting my body so lewdly I could not control myself.

They had said the Stimulation Spores ran twenty-four hours a day in the Solitary Confinement Area…!

If it was already this bad, it was going to be unbearable.

And then Leviathan's voice came again, and my anxiety spiked.

I could not fully grasp what he meant, but it was clear a crisis had arrived.

After the echoing click of Leviathan's boots faded away, the sounds from outside the carrier were… chilling just to hear.

"Hrr… hrrngh."

A low growling that almost sounded like a dog's whimper, true to the name Male Dogs. But then came voices that proved they were not beasts.

"Female… sound. Moan… grrr. Hrrngh… woman. Woman. Woman."

…!

What I had just heard. That was unmistakably a man's voice.

"Wh… what?"

Extreme terror made the words slip out before I could stop them.

And the sounds outside the carrier grew louder.

"Woman!!! It's a woman!! Grrr!! Where?! Where!! Sniff sniff! Grrr! Haa. Haah… heh… woman!"

What on earth was this?

One thing was certain: they were reacting to my voice.

"Kyaah… ah… nnh. Nngh…♡"

But holding back my voice was impossible—the Stimulation Spores were moving too violently. The moans that escaped in that barely endurable state rose without my willing them, and even when I clamped a hand over my mouth, sound leaked through lips that parted on instinct.

And every time they did—

—the howling outside the carrier intensified.

"Woman!! Where!! Sniff sniff!! Sniff!! Here! The sound's getting louder from this way.!! This way!! Hurry! Pussy!! Haah!! Hah!! Let me fuck it!! Let me cum!!"

What the hell is that… I'm scared.

Voices that were human yet nothing like human rang out from every direction. It was not just one person. Just as Leviathan had said, just as the control room alert had indicated—the howls of four or five Male Dogs closed in from all sides, and extreme terror seized me.

What is this? What are they?

I clamped the hand that had been touching my nipples over my mouth instead. Even breathing seemed like it might give me away.

In that instant I remembered the wrecked state Jaehee had been in when she came back. Ears torn, joints twisted, barely able to walk.

Surely… I wouldn't end up like that too?

My heart hammered as hard as the Stimulation Spores tormenting my nipples, speaking for every emotion I felt.

Please.

Please….

Had the desperate wish gotten through? When I stayed quiet and endured, the sounds died down.

Now and then I felt something like a presence, but I ignored it. Telling myself it was nothing, that it had nothing to do with me, eased the fear a little.

But it was not long before—

"Sniff sniff! Female scent right here! Haa~ haa. This is it~"

—Clunk.

"…!"

The solitary cell shuddered, and a sinister male voice came from outside. Then came the rattling of someone working at the lock.

Someone… was struggling to open the door.

Waltz Production, third-floor reception desk.

A counselor assigned to client consultations greeted a man.

"Hello. Welcome to Waltz Production."

"Yes. Hel… lo."

"Are you here for a consultation?"

"Ah… yes."

"No need to be nervous. Please follow me. This way—"

The counselor guiding him was also a man. More precisely, the desk had matched the gender of the client lingering in the first-floor lobby and stationed the appropriate counselor in advance.

Given that this was a business dealing in sexual territory, assigning same-sex counselors was a deliberate sales strategy of Waltz Production.

"So. Is this your first time?"

"Ah, no. I did a C-grade incarceration once before."

"Ah, I see. Let me ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pull that up. Could I have your ID?"

"Ah… yes. It's apfqkfekRrl69."

"Got it. Looking now. Hmm. You completed one year at C-grade. So, are you hoping for C-grade again this time?"

"Ah… no. Last time C-grade felt a little mild, so… I was thinking of applying for B-grade."

"B-grade. Excellent. Let me walk you through it."

The counselor opened several programs on a prepared laptop and selected a few recommended options to present to the client.

"Unlike C-grade, B-grade means you'll be living on the island."

"On an island? Not in this building?"

"Correct."

The first screen the counselor brought up was the place called Prison Island—the island where A-grade female inmates lived.

After establishing that women were present there, the counselor added a detailed explanation tailored to the client.

"There is a separate island next to it with a prison exclusively for B-grade male clients…. But personally, for someone like you who prefers ejaculation management over torture, I'd recommend the Male Dog lifestyle on the island where the women are."

"Male Dogs?"

"Yes. A Male Dog is a slave under thorough ejaculation control. You live naked on the island like a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠beast, and you get the chance to hunt female inmates. Intercourse is only possible during ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠those opportunities."

"Hunt…?"

"Yes. 'Hunt' makes it sound grander than it is. If you catch a woman, or crack the password on the place she's confined, you earn a chance to ejaculate."

"Ah…."

A rough outline. The counselor wove in appropriate examples, luring him into a new world.

"In exchange, consistent with B-grade incarceration, you'll undergo reduced vision and limited auditory procedures. Your hands and feet will be fitted with circular cuffs so you can't grip anything. The cuffs deliver an electric current if they touch your cock, so masturbation is impossible too. In short, perfect ejaculation management. And… depending on the options, about once a quarter… you know the rest, right?"

"Ah~ the Auction. Yeah, I know that one. Hahaha. Wow—definitely more intense than C-grade. By the way, the vision reduction and auditory procedures… those are fine, right?"

"Don't worry. Once your sentence ends, we restore everything to normal. You know how it is these days—glasses are just a fashion accessory. We'll take excellent care of you with the vision correction program guaranteed by the medical conglomerate Alisea Lombe."

"Oh… then as for the term…"

"Yes. You're asking about the duration, correct?"

A counselor landing a new client.

And so, before long, a new Male Dog was placed on Prison Island.

Naked, circular restraints locked around hands and feet. Vision almost gone, wearing an auditory device that let him hear only women's voices.

They had to keep taking meals laced with aphrodisiacs, and their cocks stayed constantly hard.

But they could never release the lust that built up.

They were… simply another kind of inmate, under the name of Male Dogs.