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In the reception room, Roxanne ordered Nora to take Andy to his cell. Chain in hand, Nora snapped a metal leash to the collar around Andy's neck, treating him like a dog. "Follow me," she said, her voice cold. Andy, his energy exhausted, obeyed with a lost gaze, trailing her to a door on the reception room's left. It opened to a spiral staircase, ascending to a massive double door that only opened from within.
Knock… Knock…
"Who is it?" asked the voice on the other side of the door.
"Nora, with the new product," she announced. Recognizing her voice, the people on the other side began to slowly open the door. When Nora entered with Andy behind her, he found herself in what looked like a medieval prison, with numerous rooms numbered from one on up. Flickering torchlight faintly illuminated the dark, gigantic place, creating shadows that danced across the worn stone walls.
What caught his attention was who opened the doors: they were not human women, but giants the size of trees. These two giant women had shady faces and impassable expressions, resembling Nora and Robin. Although Andy was not surprised to see this, he had come to understand that people of different races coexisted in this world.
As they moved through the main hallway, Andy's eyes scanned the cells, each holding strikingly attractive men, their gazes weary and trapped. One met his eyes briefly before dropping to the stone floor, prisoners in a world they couldn't escape. "Your cell's number 250," Nora said, leading him up a second staircase to the prison's upper floor. Inside, a grimy bed, a dim lamp, and a tattered book awaited. With a firm shove, Nora pushed him in, and a silent maid slammed the door, locking him inside.
"Sleep well, Mr.Alien," Nora sneered. "Tomorrow's your debut." Exhausted, Andy collapsed onto the dusty bed, his mind racing with escape plans. Before he knew it, sleep claimed him.
***
"Wake up, you filthy pigs! Time to eat!" A harsh voice jolted Andy awake. He wasn't dreaming—he was trapped by these wild women. Splashing his face with water from a small bucket, he saw a woman in armor striding through the cells, freeing prisoners. Leaving his cell earlier that morning, Andy followed the crowd to a dining room, the air thick with the scent of food cutting through the stale grit of his cell.
Maids served meals without plates, men eating with their hands. Andy joined the line, but when his turn came, a maid handed him a plate and wooden spoon, drawing stunned glares from the others. The special treatment sparked whispers, and Andy felt the room's hostility. Wordless, he took his plate—a steaming bowl of soup—and scanned for a seat, finding only one beside a lone man.
The man, unlike the others, wasn't handsome. Dark brown hair fringed a bald patch, crowded eyebrows framed gray eyes, and a massive nose dominated his weathered, fortyish face. Eating raw steak with hands. Andy approached. "This seat free?"
The man glanced up, puzzled. "Not taken. Sit, kid."
"Thanks," Andy said, settling in with his soup. Noticing the man's scorched fingers, he considered offering his plate for information but decided to probe first. "So, how long you been here?" he asked, keeping his tone casual, eyes sharp for escape clues.
The man ignored him briefly, then grunted. "Don't play nice, kid. I see that look—you want something."
Although he was a little surprised, Andy decided to abandon all his courtesy and returned to his arrogant attitude. "Well, that saves me time. I need to ask you a few questions, what do you want in return?"
Finishing the steak with his hands, the man pointed to Andy's now cold soup and said: "That soup and today's newspaper, and I'll answer all your questions."
Andy wasn't surprised by her demands—everyone has a price, after all. He handed the soup to the man first, then paused, his eyes scanned the dining room, spotting a woman clutching the newspaper, lounging with her feet propped on a table. Her blonde hair spilled in lush spirals over her shoulders, framing warm, piercing brown eyes that radiated raw power. Her voluptuous body—large breasts and wide hips—strained a metallic corset, its deep cleavage bared, paired with a short leather skirt revealing thick, fleshy thighs. Steel plates shielded her arms, while high-heeled boots and a sword-strapped belt completed her look, more seductive than practical, designed to dominate and entice. Andy leaned into his knightly charm, a tactic that had melted women before. "Sorry, beautiful lady, could I borrow that newspaper?"
Her eyes flicked up, scanning him head to toe with an arrogant smile. "The new guy, huh? The Alien. Never seen one," she purred, intrigued.
Ignoring his curiosity, Andy courteously asked, "I would like that newspaper, please."
"Oh, you want to study our world? All right, I'll give you the newspaper in exchange for something I wanted from you," Her grim smile gleamed with intent.
"Something you wanted from me?" Andy asked, raising an eyebrow, intrigued by the woman's mysterious offer.
She leaned closer, her voice a husky whisper. "I've been observing your physical recognition test and I've read that your ability to conceive women is at the highest level. So, in exchange for the newspaper, I want your semen so I can sell it."
Andy's dragon cock twitched, his confidence surging. "Deal," he said, unflinching.
"Good." She nodded toward the empty kitchen. "I'll go to kitchen first to avoid suspicion. Follow in a minute."
"Got it," Andy replied, his smirk sharpening. She sauntered off, her hips swaying. After a moment, Andy followed.
In the kitchen, she sat on a chair, two empty glass bottles in hand, her seductive gaze locked on him. "Come on, stud," she purred, licking her lips. "Show me that dragon rank cock."