Brought to Heel

Conall found himself reluctant to return to the security videos. He'd finished watching what happened in the break room, and now if he was honest with himself he had to admit that he was actively avoiding going back to the recordings and was finding excuses to put it off until another time.

Mostly because of the unwanted arousal that they'd stoked in the pit of his stomach. Well - not the two who had turned into freaky eldritch creatures - but the rest, yes. Even watching the one who joined the fae without doing anything sexual, just by being handed a lyre by one of the existing fae, had made a strange prickly heat slide down his spine.

He wasn't watching the videos for prurient reasons, but with how it made him

feel

it was hard not to be guilty about it anyway. So he was reluctant to give his evenings over to that, even if it was necessary to make sure he would be able to keep his site safe.

He came to a compromise with himself - he would take a break for a solid week, and then pick it back up at the weekend. The week ended up going much faster than he hoped, although the break did make it easier to focus on work without his brain turning over the imagery he had seen in his mind over and over.

Now he was back at his laptop again on Saturday night, chewing at the inside of his cheek as he decided which video to watch. Perhaps following the group who left the break room?

Which split into two almost immediately after they got outside. Great.

The hallway itself was barely recognisable at that point, the entities having warped it in their own image. Different styles of architecture seemed to be fighting for dominance in some areas, as the factions staked their claims on parts of the building. By now, weeks later, Conall could hardly guess at how Epsilon-1 looked on the inside.

He listened to two of the group who seemed to be friends debate on which hallway to go down. When one started to wander off into a darkened hallway, talking about a voice calling them, he decided not to bother following those two any longer. From the floorplan, he knew that hallway led to the server room, which was filled with eldritch gunk.

No thanks.

Surprisingly, the rest of that little group had neither difficulty with passing by the roosting flock of harpies who had taken up residence in the large atrium full of plants, nor with the sirens lazing in the former fountain which had become a spreading pond. Conall thought of Jason and the Argonauts as he looked upon the scene, wondering how the group passed through unaccosted. The question of natural affinity towards the different factions came to mind - it was a topic hotly debated amongst the researchers in Orpheus, but to him it seemed increasingly likely that the entities or powers responsible for the metahuman condition had a clear preference for some people over others. Or that some people were more drawn to particular ones than others. Not that he could detect any clear logic to it, or that such a preference was useful for securing the site, but it was a thing he had been wondering about whilst watching these videos. Why some humans were outright ignored and others beckoned and teased and tempted.

A few strayed along the way, like the two who walked down the dark hallway. But the rest of the group got much further than he expected, arriving in the main reception area with the doors to the outside world in sight - and with them freedom - before encountering one last barrier, one final temptation.

Arranged across from each other, flanking the double doors, were two diametrically-opposed reception desks. A receptionist sat at each one, and a matching security guard stood in front of the door at each side. On one side, a primly dressed angelic receptionist exuding utmost professionalism, and a security guard clad in gleaming armour with wings outstretched. On the other side, a sultry demon in a tacky Halloween costume of a sexy secretary with flesh barely held in by a gaping shirt, and a security guard who looked more like a nightclub bouncer, if bouncers had boar tusks and pants so tight you could see the outline of their genitalia.

Conall couldn't hold back a smile at the odd scene. A lot of effort had gone into whatever this was. The receptionists were glaring daggers at each other. One made a rude gesture at the other. It was the angel who did it, surprisingly.

The group appeared confused by the sight in front of them. One of the group went to run out the door and was stopped by the outstretched wings of both guards, who firmly turned him around and pushed him back towards the reception desks.

"You're not permitted to leave until you sign out," the angelic knight declared. Conall could practically feel the bafflement radiating from the remaining humans.

"But we

are

permitted to leave?"

"Sure, sure. We just have a question to ask you all first, a little survey." The secretary on the other side of the room winked so exaggeratedly Conall could see it in the recording.

"As loath as I am to agree with

that

-," here the angelic receptionist glared across at the demonic secretary, who leered back, "he is correct."

"What's the catch," one of the group said flatly.

"All of you have to answer a question first, before you can sign out." The angel shuffled some papers around on his desk, picking up a clipboard.

"This better not be one of those fucking 'one of us tells only truths, the other tells only lies' riddles, I swear to fuck."

The demon snickered. "Nah, nothing like that. What do you take us for,

fae?"

The angel snorted, then glared at the demon again for the offence of actually amusing him.

"Get the fuck on with it, then," the same guy who had tried to rush the doors said.

"If you were to decide between angels-," said the receptionist.

"Or demons-," said the secretary.

"Which would you choose?" said both in unison, before glaring at each other.

"That's it?"

"Yep," the demon answered, popping the

p

in the word like it was bubblegum. "But there's no way in hell we're letting any of you go if you don't say which."

"I just want you to know that I don't trust either of you for one goddamn second, but if I had to choose, it would be demons. I guess."

"A man of impeccable taste." The demon was grinning. "C'mon over here and sign yourself out."

The impatient guy grabbed the sign out sheet from the demonic secretary and scribbled his name, tossing it back at the secretary after.

"Okay, can I go already."

"Nope. Gotta ask the rest first."

"Fucking tease." He went to stare at and try to dodge around the bouncer, who kept catching him and giving out an annoyed porcine snort every time.

The next person to answer just said a laconic "angels", and signed out on the clipboard the angelic receptionist offered them, much to the receptionist's satisfaction. Conall kept an eye on both them and the impatient guy, certain that there was a catch somewhere.

It didn't take long. By the time the third person had given their choice and signed out (from the angel's reception, as the receptionist smirked over at the demon), the first two were starting to look a little

strange.

The guy trying to dodge around the bouncer had shed his jacket for whatever reason, and Conall could see patches of a dark something spreading on his skin, along with the points of horns poking out from his hair. The second person was frantically trying to pull their sleeves down over feathers which had started to puff out from the ends and from between gaps in their clothing.

The fourth person had hardly placed pen to paper before the third's pristine white labcoat had reformed itself into pristine white leather bindings, tying her arms to one another in a straitjacket-esque way as she stumbled towards the other newly-made angel.

All of this happened very rapidly, so that by the time the fifth and final person was supposed to choose, there were already two new demons and two new angels in the throes of their transformations. The catch was now

very

obvious.

The impatient guy impatiently threw off the rest of his clothes, black fur spreading over him and a tail bursting from above his ass, legs warping and lengthening as he tripped over them in his attempt to escape the bouncer, who grabbed his waist and held him as he squirmed. He went very still when his ass bumped against the bouncer's leather-clad package. Then he moaned, rubbing himself back against them while the horns on his head grew larger and forked until they resembled a stag's in miniature. The bouncer groped the chest of the new... Jackalope demon...? He seemed pretty into it, cursing and impatiently telling them to get on with it and fuck him. Which they did. Loudly.

Conall averted his eyes, but the noise was as explicit as the sight, so he gave up looking away when he had to stop himself imagining what was happening instead. So he watched, and saw how the man continued to change. As the fucking went on, miniature bat wings fluttered on the guy's back and his feet turned into long hare-like paws. He came with a shout as the bouncer tugged on his new pointed tail.

The second person's clothing had exploded in a shower of feathers as their wings tore through them, multiple pairs which shielded them and their face from view. They seemed intent on examining themself, taking a pen and paper from the reception to make notes, and gently rebuffed the leather-bound angel as she asked for help with her 'aches'.

Her grinning colleague who had signed out at the devil's desk was only too happy to 'help', pressing clawed fingers against the crotch of the angel's trousers and letting her grind against it. This person looked more like a stereotypical demon with each passing moment, her skin turning a lurid crimson as her high-heeled feet reshaped into high-heel like hooves. It was unusual for a demon to take such interest in an angel, but it looked like she was getting enormous pleasure from teasing the needy, helpless angel woman. Who seemed to be enjoying it in her own way - although golden tears flowed from beneath her closed eyes, expression frustrated as any attempt to press

harder

against the demon's hand resulted in her taking it away. When Conall glanced away for a moment and then back, a white leather blindfold had materialised on her, and the demon was slipping a red-and-white collar around her neck, while her sinuous red leathery tail curled possessively around the angel's leg. The strange duo were probably going to be together for quite some time, he thought with his face hot.

The last person stammered as they looked from one reception to the other, and at the tableau in front of them where torn clothes and feathers and writhing bodies attested to how choosing was a carefully-laid trap for anyone who had gotten that far.

"What if... I like both...?" They ventured, red-faced.

"Then we'll just have to show you who does it better," the demonic secretary said, before miming a few lewd gestures with his manicured fingers.

"As if." The angelic receptionist clicked his fingers, and the stoic angelic knight stepped forward, now wearing a gleaming metal strap-on over the armour's gleaming metal codpiece. It was almost absurd rather than sexy, if not for the one remaining human's flustered expression as the knight pushed their skirt up over their waist and ran metal-clad fingers along their slit.

The demonic secretary himself had hopped over the desk on his side of the room, a hard-on tenting the front of his costume's short skirt and sheer tights as he strode over with a sway in his hips. Pointed, lacquered nails grabbed the human's face.

"How about I stuff you from this end while the angel fucks

that

end? Then you tell us which you preferred. If you can still talk by then," he said with a wink.

"Uh." They seemed to have a hard time coming up with words as the angel's fingers probed their slit. "Sounds good. Yeah. Let's do it."

From the safety of his desk, Conall rolled his eyes. Looks like trying to outsmart them was pointless. Not that the person in the video seemed too disappointed that escape was slipping from their grasp with every thrust of the angel's and the demon's hips. From the muffled noises they were making, far from it.

Conall shifted in his chair as he watched the spitroast, his cock making its interest in the video clear while he tried to watch to see what kind of metahuman the person was going to become.

The angel who had been making notes about their own form waved for the angelic receptionist to hand over the clipboard, announcing the observations they were writing down with apparent scientific detachment. They certainly didn't seem to have any interest in joining in. Conall pondered this as his blood increasingly left his brain and went towards making his cock strain against his pants instead. It was possible they were asexual, or uninterested in sexual contact with others for whatever reason, like the fae lyre player had been, or

more

interested in the scientific method. Or that they were sexually aroused by the scientific method itself. Conall had met a few researchers like that in his time with Orpheus. Although he couldn't think clearly enough to remember any specific names at that moment.

Not when the angel and demon were intent on fucking the humanity out of the person between them. They were the moaning, twitching human meat in an angel-demon spitroast. Conall had a brief moment of jealousy before he slapped his own cheek for losing sight of why he was watching. It

wasn't

for his own enjoyment. It was to better understand how metahumans worked so he could protect his staff. So this kind of thing

wouldn't

happen to them. He didn't want it to happen to him, either.

The firm thrusts of both the angel and demon didn't slow when the human's back arched and their clothes ripped apart from the inside out. Iridescent black and white wings like a magpie's exploded out of the shredded clothing, but unlike a magpie they were covered in eyespots which opened into gleaming copper eyes. A feathered serpentine tail covered in similar patterning curled out from beneath their skirt. Even after the demon came down their throat, they grasped his hips and wouldn't let him pull away until they had sucked him dry.

When they at last let go, he could see the changes which had taken place to their face. Molten eyes and a copper halo that endlessly dripped, the slight suggestion of a snout and a tongue which was long and ribbed. They twisted around to lift the visor of the angel guard's armour, shoving their mouths together and digging clawed fingers into the angel's wings. A ragged, needy sound came from the armour-clad angel when the hybrid metahuman drew back at last.

Conall got the absurd feeling that he was looking at an apex predator of both angels and demons. Especially when they turned the demon secretary around and fingerfucked him on his own desk, edging him until he begged and moaned and promised to be good.

Then, they announced they were going for a walk outside if anyone wanted to join them. At that point Conall stopped the recording, slid his chair back from the desk, and tried his best to think of what conclusions he could draw from any of that while his throbbing hard-on did its best to make it too hard to think of anything. The fact that some of the Orpheus staff hadn't even touched the metahumans there before transforming... It was difficult to puzzle through in his hazy brain, but he concluded maybe the sign-out sheet and clipboard were 'cursed' objects in their own right, transmitting the transformation to those who touched them...?

The strange angel-demon hybrid was notable - hybrids of more than one kind of metahuman faction were rare, but not entirely unheard of, although with how demons and angels squabbled, the one he'd seen was even more rare. That was about the only other useful thought he could squeeze out of his over-wrung brain at that moment. Conall was

really

hard. Watching that had affected him more than usual... He took even, measured breaths and he clenched and unclenched his hands, doing his best to ignore the urge to touch.

Eventually he calmed himself enough to waddle to the kitchen, trying not to let his thighs brush against his erection, biting his lip to distract from it. It would have been disrespectful to why he was watching any of the security videos in the first place to use them for his own pleasure. So he boiled the kettle and watched the steam and then made himself a cup of chamomile tea.

Conall had a terrible night's sleep after that. He was sweaty, and the bedsheets rubbed against his over-sensitive body, and he had strange disjointed dreams which he couldn't remember when he woke. His Sunday passed in an exhausted haze, and when he went to the monthly football match with his old college friends his reaction times were so slow he missed a few opportunities to score a goal, prompting a couple of concerned questions afterwards about whether he was feeling alright. He assured them he was fine, more or less, but came to the decision that he'd have to avoid any sleepless nights like that one. It really wasn't good for him.

Watching in the afternoon instead probably wouldn't work; he'd be as pent up for an entire day then, if he didn't do anything to address it. He quietly conceded to himself that next time, if he got that worked up, he would have to do something about it afterwards... He shouldn't be having

that

reaction to watching the chaos caused by the metahuman containment breach, but if it was unavoidable, it wouldn't help anyone or anything to leave himself sleep deprived afterwards. At least if he put on some regular porn afterwards he wouldn't be jerking himself to videos or thoughts of Epsilon-1's transformed staff.

Thankfully he didn't have to justify it to anyone except himself.

Despite half expecting them to, Eon hadn't so much as made a single suggestive comment about how he was

getting on

with the videos in the interim. He was a little surprised that they hadn't brought back up the recordings after giving him the link, and more than a little relieved. They were happy to chat about inconsequential things, seemingly satisfied that Conall wasn't going to cut short the conversation now that he had what he wanted. Conall wouldn't have known what to say to them about the security videos, anyway. His goals in watching the videos were diametrically opposed to Eon's entire raison d'être, and pointing out issues he'd identified in the site security would only be telling Eon exactly which weaknesses Orpheus had. Conall wanted to help prevent his staff becoming metahumans, while Eon presumably wanted to turn everyone into beings like them.

It was really very troubling that Orpheus had lost a site director to becoming a metahuman, someone who had such an intimate knowledge of how they functioned - but thankfully that didn't have much bearing on Conall's conversation with them. It was just friendly chit-chat, nothing sinister about it as far as he could tell. He had gained some insight from the videos, too, which ought to offset the blow to Orpheus as a whole.

He mulled over all of that during the working week, with his thoughts taken up by it in almost every moment of free time, except for during the usual meeting of the site orchestra.

Stepping into the music room once he unlocked it was a relief, and it was easy to put aside most other concerns while he was there. Of course, at the back of his mind was the threat to his staff, the orchestra members included, but he let himself enjoy greeting the ones there before him and engaging in a little small talk while they were waiting for everyone to arrive. Calling it an orchestra was a very grand title for something with barely two or three musicians in each section, but they had a conductor and all; moreover, they had a conductor who wasn't Conall. Back when they had begun, Conall had to take the position himself, and he vastly preferred getting to play instead. So he was beyond grateful when Lorraine transferred from another site, although he didn't know her particularly well, because she not only agreed to take over the conductor role but enjoyed it.