Author's Note: Hey first I just want to apologize for this chapter being so short, I promise the next one will be longer.

Also, this story is being written in my free time which mostly consists of the middle of the night, so I will mostly be writing this in a sleep deprived haze. SO for that I want to apologize for anything that doesn't make sense especially in the first chapter which I realized I labeled prologue but isn't really one, but watever it was 4 in the morning when I posted the first chapter. I also want to state that I have never done drugs in my life, so I have no idea what they are actually like. Everything written is based off what I have observed from TV and movies.

So, anyway I hope you enjoy this very short chapter, I promise the next one will be way longer.

Warnings: Sex, rape, drugs, violence, mpreg, crappy powers, super hot men, mxm

2

The sun hadn't even risen yet when the motel manager banging on the door rudely awakened me. Apparently the client last night didn't rent out the room until morning. I'd be mad, but he always gave me the best stuff, so I could forgive him. When I opened my eyes, reality hit me like a truck. The first thing I felt was the major headache, and next was the cold. I was still lying above the covers, covered in cum that was now dry. I shivered in disgust. I sat stood up, and grabbed a robe that was left near the bed.

When I stood to go open the door, I became aware of the soreness of my muscles, and I could even distantly feel my hole close itself. That is why male submissives are considered to be better than females, it doesn't matter how much or how roughly we are taken, our asses repair themselves and shrink down to their original tightness.

I opened the door, and the motel manager stormed in. He began yelling at me, but I ignored him, I instead focused on grabbing my clothing and the bag filled with drugs and money my client left, and leaving before I passed out from pain and exhaustion.

I stumbled into my beat up apartment just as the sun was beginning to rise. The only thing on my mind was food. I was starving. I couldn't remember the last time I had eaten. I often forget things like my need for food when I am high, so the only time I eat usually is the morning after I've worked.

I opened my fridge, and cursed myself when I saw that it was empty. I considered walking to the diner down the street, but quickly decided that I was too tired.

'Maybe I'll starve to death.' I thought to myself wishfully.

It was wishful thinking. I wouldn't starve to death, I never did. No matter how badly I treated my body, I would be fine in the end. I hated it. I hated that for some reason I wasn't allowed to die. I don't know if it is a submissive thing, or maybe it's my power. If it is, it sucks. I hate that I can't just die in peace.

I walked into my bedroom, and went to my dresser. Inside the top drawer was my stash. It was an assortment of vials, bags filled with powder, bottles of pills, straws, needles, and anything else that could hold drugs or help put them into my system.

I grabbed a bottle and took a handful of pills from inside. I didn't care if I took too much. I couldn't overdose. After I had taken the pills, I lay down on my bed waiting for them to start working.

I heard a crash, like my door was slammed open. I tried to get up but just the drugs started to work, and I became lost to the world.