Brisket Awakens
The Minion Spawner? pulsed like a living heart, drawing divine power from the nearby Crimson Core—its glowing surface crackling with white-blue energy arcs. The pod’s surface hissed as internal systems locked and disengaged with a sound like hydraulic breath.
Kenji stood by the console, one hand cradling a dented thermal mug of bitter coffee, eyes fixed on the pod with practiced disinterest.
[Conversion Cycle: Complete.]
[Subject Designation: Brisket Oblivion? is ready for deployment.]
A faint click. A hiss. Then a rush of vapor.
From the mist stepped another monster of a man—tall, broad-shouldered, and unnervingly silent. Seven feet of lean, dense muscle moved with a quiet intensity, like a predator that didn’t need to roar. He was bare-chested, barefoot, steam still rolling off his skin, which bore no signs of trauma or mutation—only perfection.
Etched across his chest in bold, black ink was his divine mark:
BRISKET OBLIVION?
The gods had once again stamped their sense of humor into the flesh of Kenji’s creations.
Mirelle let out a low whistle. “That’s… a name. And a hell of a welcome gift.”
“Looks like he was made to be shirtless,” Saeko added dryly.
Brisket said nothing. He simply stood, posture perfect, eyes scanning the Shack without emotion.
Kenji brought up the system readout, unsurprised by what he saw:
ASTARION DESIGNATION: Brisket Oblivion?
? Combat Proficiency: All Weapon Classes
? Melee Preference: Dual Reinforced Hatchets
? Personality: Cold, Tactical, Unnervingly Silent
? Cognitive Sync: 100% Loyalty
? Environmental Adaptation: High-heat and cold resistance
As if on cue, Brisket walked forward and knelt in front of Kenji, eyes lowered in reverence.
Kenji stared at him for a long moment. “You exist to protect me. That’s your only mission.”
Brisket gave a slow nod and rose without hesitation, stepping back to stand beside Flanksteak, who hadn’t moved a muscle since dawn. The two of them now flanked the Shack’s entrance like gods of war.
Builder drones approached, carrying a set of cobbled-together gear—scavenged armor plates, repurposed boots, a stitched fire-retardant coat, and a pair of empty holsters. The team had prepared it in advance, and though it wasn’t pretty, it was functional.
Brisket donned the gear without a word. Even half-armored, he looked like a walking nightmare.
Saeko adjusted the shoulder guard. “Still looks like he could tear a door off with one hand.”
“Let him,” Kenji muttered. “More doors I don’t have to open.”
Lira peeked from behind a crate, eyes wide. “His name’s really on his chest…”
Elyra smirked. “That’s the gods for you. Branding people like produce.”
Kenji drained the last of his coffee and set the mug aside. “Alright. We’ve got two of them now. Let’s put them to work.”
Because out here in the frozen apocalypse, you were either the predator—or someone else’s biomass.
Beast Trouble
The Shack’s motion sensors began flashing a warning in soft red tones.
[Alert: Hostile lifeforms detected.]
[Classification: Mid-tier biological threats – Arctic mutations.]
[Proximity: 280 meters.]
Kenji sipped his lukewarm canned soup in silence, staring at the console like he was watching the weather. “Of course. Can’t go half a day without something wanting to chew on my Shack.”
On the screen, several heat signatures approached fast—eight in total, moving erratically through the snow. Drone footage began streaming in overhead, giving a full visual feed of the approaching threats.
The beasts were a random cocktail of apocalypse horrors. One looked like a hairless wolf covered in bone spines, another was bloated and lumpy, dragging its mass like a mutated gorilla. A third had too many eyes and no mouth—though it somehow made noise anyway. Whatever spawned these things didn’t believe in symmetry or mercy.
[Drones deployed: Combat Units 1-5]
The Hive’s drone bay opened with a mechanical whirr as five sleek, black combat drones launched into the air—silent, disciplined, and deadly.
Brisket Oblivion? and Flanksteak Vengeance? stood just outside the Shack’s main ramp, snow gathering on their salvaged coats. Neither wore helmets. They didn’t need them.
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“Let the drones handle the rush,” Kenji muttered from his console. “No need to waste power swinging if the trash gets vaporized.”
Outside, the drones moved like a coordinated flock, pulse emitters glowing in the snowstorm haze. The first beast was taken out mid-stride—its torso exploding under a tight three-shot burst.
Another tried to flank right. Combat Drone 3 tagged it with a clean headshot, dropping it like wet meat.
Two more came in from the left—faster this time.
One of them, a serpentine crawler with multiple legs, managed to slither past the drones and lunge straight for the Shack.
It never made it.
The divine auto-turret mounted on the Shack’s roof hissed to life, pivoting with supernatural precision. With a crack like thunder, it fired a single glowing shot that vaporized the crawler’s upper half. Its smoldering lower body flopped uselessly in the snow.
The other beast—an ice-covered boar mutant—kept charging.
Brisket Oblivion? moved.
He stepped forward and swung both hatchets in a wide, fluid arc. The twin blades glinted in the cold, carving deep into the beast’s shoulders. It let out a gargled shriek before collapsing.
Flanksteak remained motionless beside the door, arms crossed. He didn’t even reach for his weapon. None had gotten close enough to be worth his time.
Within five minutes, the skirmish was over.
[All hostiles neutralized.]
[Biomass recovered: 42 units.]
[Processing crew dispatched.]
Cleanup drones emerged from their hives, followed by builder drones outfitted with salvage kits. They began dragging corpses back to the recycler, slicing clean slabs of monster meat and scraping off usable organs.
Kenji leaned back in his chair with a grunt of satisfaction. “Not bad.”
Mirelle passed behind him, arms stretching lazily above her head. “You’ve got two monster bodyguards, five killer drones, and a turret from the gods. You’re basically untouchable.”
“Damn right I am,” Kenji said. “And I didn’t even have to get off my ass.”
He glanced at the Crimson Core glowing near the ceiling—pulsing steadily, arcs of energy dancing through the air toward the drone bay. It looked more alive with each passing day.
“Plenty of biomass, no damage to the Shack,” he muttered. “Perfect outcome.”
The turrets powered down with a quiet hiss. The drones resumed formation, circling once overhead before returning to dock.
Outside, the wind howled.
Inside, everything was warm, secure, and fully under Kenji’s control
Comforts of Ownership
Later that night, the Shack had fallen into its usual hush.
Outside, the wind screamed like a dying beast. Inside, it was warm—almost too warm. The Shack’s divine heating module, powered by the ever-humming Crimson Core, kept the rooms perfectly regulated. The air smelled faintly of food, fire, and something sweetly intoxicating.
Kenji reclined on his cushioned seat near the back of the sleeping quarters. He had his legs stretched out, a half-finished drink in one hand, and an expression of lazy satisfaction on his face.
Saeko was on her knees between his thighs, lips glossy and eyes lidded in deep focus.
Elyra stood behind him, bare, her lithe body pressed close to his back, hands working his shoulders, her soft purrs blending with the faint hum of drones in standby mode.
Mirelle straddled his lap, grinding her hips against his thigh, biting her lip as she nuzzled against his neck. “You should relax like this every night,” she whispered, voice breathy. “It’s what we’re here for.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Kenji muttered, eyes half-lidded.
They weren’t jealous. Not possessive. Each girl understood her role, her place. They weren’t forced—they were grateful. Kenji’s food, born from divine code and machine magic, did more than feed their bodies. It softened their hearts, removed the weight of trauma, and replaced it with something warm… something submissive… something fulfilled.
In a world where survival was everything, being Kenji’s slave meant comfort, safety, purpose—and a kind of strange, euphoric joy they never thought possible.
Elyra kissed the back of his neck. “You don’t even need to order us anymore,” she whispered. “We want to. You make us feel…”
“…human,” Mirelle finished for her, breath trembling.
Saeko hummed in agreement without lifting her head.
Kenji tilted his head back with a grunt of approval. “Good. Long as you know what you’re for.”
They all moaned softly in response, pressing in closer.
Across the room, hidden behind a stacked wall of salvaged crates, Lira crouched, small hands clutching a canned drink to her chest. Her face burned red, her breathing uneven.
She wasn’t supposed to be there. Kenji had told her clearly: not until you’re older.
But every night, she crept back. Watching.
She didn’t understand why she couldn’t stop.
Her legs trembled. Her heart pounded. She bit down on her knuckles and squeezed her thighs together, watching as Mirelle’s soft moans filled the air and Saeko’s hands guided Kenji’s into her hair.
She hated this feeling—this need. But she also needed to see it.
Just for a little longer.
Just a little more
Post-Session Planning
Kenji lay sprawled on his reclined seat, his shirt halfway open, chest glistening faintly with sweat. Saeko curled up at his feet, her head resting on his thigh like a cat. Elyra lay at his side, lightly dozing, one hand on his stomach. Mirelle was still breathing slow and steady, draped over him like a silken blanket, her hair spilling across his shoulder.
He let out a long, satisfied sigh.
“This,” he muttered, “is what retirement should look like.”
The room was still dimly lit. Soft ambient lighting from the Shack’s system cast a warm orange glow over the walls. The hum of machines and gentle pulsing of the Crimson Core gave the place an almost holy silence.
[Daily Deployment Schedule - Pending Approval.]
The console on the far wall pinged softly.
Kenji groaned but didn’t move. “Lira,” he called out. “Bring me the schedule.”
The girl poked her head around the corner, red-faced and flustered—but determined to look like nothing had happened.
She didn’t comment on what she’d seen. She never did.
She walked over in her oversized shirt, holding out the data pad with trembling hands. “I organized it by priority,” she mumbled, not meeting his eyes. “Drones, patrol rotations, salvage runs… I included estimated biomass yields too.”
Kenji raised a brow, took the pad, and glanced over it.
It was clean. Efficient. Better than he expected.
“Good work,” he said flatly. “You keep this up, I might upgrade you from personal assistant to actual secretary.”
Lira smiled weakly. “I’ll… do my best.”
She lingered a moment longer, clearly waiting for something—but Kenji was already reading.
Outside, snow howled against the Shack’s armored walls.
Inside, the plan for tomorrow was already shaping up:
? Scavenger Drones: Two long-range teams were scheduled to sweep east and west, targeting ruined comms towers and derelict vehicles.
? Builder Drones: Assigned to patch a few drone bay compartments and expand the resource shelving.
? Combat Drones: Set to patrol a half-kilometer perimeter with Astarions accompanying them in staggered shifts.
? Astarions: Flanksteak and Brisket would alternate shifts, each leading one drone patrol while off-duty Astarions remained on standby inside the Shack.
? Biomass Estimate: Moderate. Forecast suggested minor beast activity in the next 24 hours.
Kenji smirked.
Everything was running like clockwork.
He set the pad down and leaned back, feeling the warmth of three obedient slave girls curled around him.
Kenji’s Shack – Tier 2 Drone Hive Configuration
Modules Installed:
? Divine Auto-Turret (x1) – Turns monsters into mist with a single shot
? Resource Recycler – Because even demon guts deserve a second chance
? Drone Hive (Tier 2) – Integrated Dock (Capacity: 20 drones)
? Comfortable Sleeping Quarters – Now with fewer awkward elbow jabs at night
? Expanded Front Store – For scamming nobles and peddling divine calories
? Minion Spawner? Pod – Currently simmering the next Astarion?
Crimson Core Status:
? Energy: 59%
? Current Role: Powering drones, modules, and turret
? Visual: Glowing red crystal with divine arcs of lightning
? Core Saturation for Next Evolution: 9%
? Environmental Buffs: Local temperature stabilized, slight healing effect in Shack radius
Drone Fleet – 18 Active
? Scavenger: 6 – Currently deployed to the east and west ruins
? Builder: 4 – Expanding drone bay and resource shelves
? Combat: 5 – On perimeter patrol
? Sensor: 3 – Relaying beast activity and anomaly spikes
Astarion Supersoldiers – 2 Active
? Flanksteak Vengeance? – Silent, terrifying, built like a freezer stacked with bricks. Prefers power gauntlets.
? Brisket Oblivion? – Cold, fast, clinical. Twin hatchets and zero small talk. Chest tattoo looks like a band logo.
Next Pod Conversion ETA: 16 hours until Astarion #3
Slaves – 4
? Lira: Admin Assistant / Denied girl. Cuddles only.
? Elyra: Scout & combat support. Excellent in bed. And on the floor. And sometimes the wall.
? Saeko: Logistics slave. Has an actual system for organizing cans. Might be a former accountant.
? Mirelle: Trade specialist. Expert at using charm to squeeze desperate traders dry.
All slaves report high satisfaction. Divine food has completely broken their apocalypse depression. Jealousy level: 0. Loyalty level: worshipful.
Buildings & Structures
? Shack (Main Truck) – Tier 2 evolution complete
? Integrated Storefront – Operational
? Interior Expansion Complete – New bunks, drone slots
? Auto-defense Perimeter – Established via turret + drone patrols
? Drone Hive Deck – Staging zone in progress for full Tier 3
Assets & Vehicles
? Snow Crawler (Salvaged): Used for rough terrain travel to and from bastions. Still smells like boiled leather.
? Crimson Core: Primary divine power source. Emits occasional energy pulses and loud humming when bored.
Current Inventory
? Food Cans (Trade-Grade): 930
? High-Quality Biomass: 217 units
? Recycled Tech Scrap: 565 kg
? Medical Kits: 14
? Slave Collars (Unused): 3
? Trade Tokens: 45
? Minerals: 0 (Fabricator not yet active)
Cumulative Totals Since Arrival
? Drones Built: 18
? Supersoldiers Created: 2
? Slaves Acquired: 4
? Food Cans Produced: 1,470
? Beast Attacks Survived: 3
? Crimson Core Evolutions: 2
? F*cks Given by Kenji: 0
System Note:
Everything’s running suspiciously well. That probably means something’s coming to ruin it.
Outside was death. Inside was pleasure and control.
End of Chapter.
