14. Everytime.

Damon let out a sigh as he noticed Mimi's pulse dropping once again. Her breathing had slowed down and he could see the first signs of arrhythmias in her ECG. It was clear that she was not feeling well. Yet, there she lay on the cot, naked and cuffed, being tormented, refusing to take any action.

A blonde guy approached to taunt them, commenting on Mimi's situation. Just moments ago, Adam and Charles had been sedated and stripped of their clothes by those bimbo women who had been all over them. Damon couldn't help but notice that their pheromones had affected him too, though he was relieved that they were now flaccid. Those women were nothing but prostitutes, and their voices grated on his nerves.

Damon walked to the side of the cage, positioning himself closer to Mimi. He reached his hand through the bars, trying to provide her with some comfort. The whole situation was unbearable. Damon knew logically that Mimi was immortal, but witnessing her suffering made him feel utterly powerless. Adam and Charles had just been taken away, and next in line were the wolves and Mariella.

A few Salvatores had already been sedated, but the blonde guy seemed determined to make Damon watch as Mimi's life slipped away. Damon figured that their bond must be somehow visible, but at that moment, he could only hold on to hope. Maybe one day they would escape from this place, and he would witness the blonde guy's downfall. Mimi's possible addiction and whatever Wulfe had warned them about were not even crossing Damon's mind.

All he wanted was to hold her and assure her that everything would be alright. Damon couldn't understand why he was feeling so overwhelmed by emotions. It was all just too much for him. Mariella attempted to comfort him through their newfound bond, sensing his distress, but Damon was still adjusting to this connection that merged the strands from the hive with the pack bond. It was unlike anything he had experienced before, and now this added burden.

Damon whispered to Mimi, "Baby, close your eyes. Shh. Everything will be fine. I'm right here beside you. Rest now."

Mimi weakly smiled, looking at him, and spoke in a faint voice in his mind, "Damon, it's just a nap. Stop worrying. Save your strength. It's not pleasant to be prodded and poked, I can assure you of that. I'll be fine."

Damon responded, now with a hint of passion, "I can't help it, baby. I can feel your distress through our bond. I feel you in the depths of my soul. No matter how many times you tell me you're fine, I can sense how terrible this is for you. Should I free you from your straps and end your suffering?"

Mimi let out a sigh and replied, "You know, Wulfe has arranged for me to go to the crystal, but I have no way of letting them know where my body is. So, chances are, I won't be able to return to my body. Damon, please calm down. And you know what? I won't take you on my next mission."

Damon smiled and reassured her, saying, "Once this is done, baby, I won't let you go on missions for a thousand years. I want to keep you all to myself."

His voice carried an almost obsessive tone. Mimi's demeanor gradually became more subdued, responding less in her mind. Damon noticed her saturation dropping, her diaphragm slowly ceasing to function. Men had just arrived and shot a sedative dart at Mariella, waiting for it to take effect so they could undress her and ogle her body. They had made similar comments about the bodies of other wolves they had sedated and groped.

Damon remained silent, allowing his hatred to build up, knowing it would be useful later on. He continued to maintain physical contact with Mimi, his hand constantly touching her. He could sense Mimi still siphoning magic out of the cage, even with her last bit of strength. He didn't understand why, so he asked her in her mind, unsure if she was aware enough to respond.

Mimi's answer was as sarcastic as ever. "Damon, I'm taking everything I can, whether it's for me or for you. Power battery."

Damon tried to use his telepathy to make her current state as bearable as possible, knowing that dying, even if only temporarily, was never easy or enjoyable for Mimi.

Men had raided Mariella's cage while she was unconscious. Damon's telepathy confirmed that she would be unaware of the men ogling at her. A blonde man approached, admiring Mariella's perfect body, even going so far as to touch her breasts.

He commented, "She will be so pretty when pregnant. I wonder if she is still a virgin."

Damon quickly interjected, "No, she is not. She is also a mother and looks fantastic when pregnant. Stop ogling my wife, you brutes!"

The blonde man, his lisp more pronounced, replied, "Oh, what a shame," as he spread her legs.

He continued, "Yeah, that cunt looks used. I prefer tight virginal ones. Like that freak had, too bad she is so skinny. Her cunt was small enough, but it seems she is running out of time," while glancing at the monitor showing Mimi's vitals.

The man's crude language ignited Damon's rage, causing him to desire the man's suffering. Being imprisoned was a new experience for Damon, even though he had been captured and tortured before. However, this particular situation was exceptionally irritating to him. His bloodlust seemed to intensify, and he had to restrain himself from succumbing to his vampiric instincts and giving the man any more ammunition.

Damon took a moment to reflect, attempting to communicate with Mimi, but received no response. Glancing at the monitor, he noticed a flatline. Mimi was dead. Her skin was pale, her eyes partially open, and her expression was not calm or peaceful, but rather haunted.

He remembered Magnum mentioning how they had taught Mimi to maintain a certain expression when dying to make a lasting impact. It certainly did, and Damon wanted to arrange her face to appear more peaceful. However, he realized the significance of Mimi's plan - to be underestimated and quickly forgotten. Perhaps there were lessons to be learned from this experience for all of them.

Damon recognized that his irritation was a result of his heightened bloodlust. As he pondered why this was such an issue, he recalled the influence of the black energy sorceress's blood. It had affected him deeply, despite Wulfe's claim that Mimi was the only addict.

Damon had to admit that he too was addicted. It had a stronger hold on him than he was willing to admit, and it would take considerable effort to break free from its grasp. He could still taste it in his mouth, and the craving for more was ever-present. Yes, he was an addict.

A blonde man approached Mimi's cage and observed her lifeless state. He regarded her with a cold indifference, as if she were merely a piece of meat. Without closing her eyes, Mimi's expression remained unchanged.

The man spoke, offering some mock solace to the fallen wannabe warrior. "Rest easy, little warrior. Your troubles are finally over. I hope you find peace, or whatever awaits you."

He then turned his attention to Damon and signaled for the men to prepare a tranquilizer rifle.

Addressing Damon, he stated, "Don't worry, she was your rescue, right? Her suffering has come to an end. You should be grateful that I saved her from becoming a toy for the guards."

One of the guards interjected, "Well, we wouldn't want that. She was too skinny, a reject. Just a freak. What should we do with the carcass?"

Damon protested, "She was not just a piece of meat, you monsters!"

The blonde man, hindered by his lisp, responded, "She, whatever she was, was useless to us. Therefore, we killed her. No need to lose sleep over a freak. There will always be another one, perhaps prettier and more useful."

Damon let out a yelp as one of the men shot a tranquilizer dart at him. He glared at the man in defiance.

The blonde man remarked, "It's a shame the pretty one with big boobs is unconscious. I do enjoy it when they are aware of what they are going through. Maybe we can keep her awake at some point. As for you, prepare for a pleasure like no other. All you are good for now is being used by women."

The blonde man then fully opened the IV, allowing the remaining drug to flow into Mimi's vein. He then grabbed a large syringe, about 50 cc in size, filled it with air, and inserted the long needle directly into Mimi's heart, injecting a large bubble of air.

He explained, "Just in case. I've encountered a few freaks that are difficult to kill. They can stop their own hearts. This is a little insurance to ensure the freak stays dead. It's a shame we can't burn the body, as the authorities are watching the places where bodies are cremated. But now, you can dump the body in the forest, no burial. Let the animals feast. Although she may be a little poisonous, it's the rule of nature, survival of the fittest."

Damon struggled to stay awake, slowly slumping to the floor. His hand, which had remained in contact with Mimi, slipped away. The last thing he saw was the burly guards entering and wrapping Mimi's body in a rough tarp before carrying her away. Then the drugs consumed Damon, plunging him into darkness. 

Bimbos gathered around Damon as scientists undressed him. His cock remained flaccid as the bimbos attempted to arouse him, but their efforts proved futile. The scientists were slightly disturbed by these lustful women, as their sole focus seemed to be on sexual activities. They were only interested in sex, being fucked, used.

However, the faint surgical scars on their foreheads revealed that they had undergone a specific type of lobotomy. Their boss, Dr. Sorensen, a blond man, had a preference for operating on female brains, transforming them into perfect dolls for his pleasure. Eventually, he grew tired of their diminished intelligence, disposing of them and getting new ones. Scientists did not interfere or judge him, although the money was good and the scientists had no moral qualms about using others to help someone else.

They loaded Damon onto a gurney, securely strapping him in before transferring him to Lab 2. Here, intensive fertility assessments would take place, along with mapping his anatomy and physiology. Although the scientists were more interested in studying the effects of different drugs on fertility and breeding, they had to fulfill their boss's desires.

The labs numbered 3 to 10 were dedicated to fertility testing and insemination, often resorting to artificial methods to achieve pregnancies. At times, it felt as though their boss was more interested in creating live-action porn films than conducting actual scientific research. His own lack of sexual experience, having lost his genitals at a young age, had twisted him into a beast.

Additionally, labs 11 to 20 catered to clients who were willing to pay for various services. Some female clients sought stunning males for insemination, while others involved desperate, wealthy individuals nearing the end of their lives due to cancer. These clients were willing to undergo cutting-edge, highly risky surgeries that couldn't cure their cancer but could buy them more time. Furthermore, there was a procedure known as fat transfer, where obese individuals were intentionally fed and then their fat was harvested to provide resources for the facility. 

For example, there was a wealthy individual, a patient suffering from cancer, who had exhausted all possible treatments and was too weak to undergo any further procedures. In order to help him regain vitality, strength, and time, a solution was proposed: providing him with 20-30 kilos of pure human fat enriched with vitamins and serum from a donor. No rejection, as they had a special serum from stopping it. This fat would be sold to him, allowing him to afford the necessary treatment.

Of course, in order to constantly have a supply of fat to harvest, the donors would need to be well-fed and kept as overweight as possible. They were unfortunate beings, bedridden, drugged, and miserable, but to the scientists, they were merely resources to be utilized. They had the best fat available for their purpose. They were kept alive merely to make more fat. Their bodies were full of old scars, and sores but they were provided minimum care to keep them productive.

The scientists aimed to make this fat donation a publicly accepted treatment, forcing severely obese individuals to donate their excess fat. Additionally, those who were highly compatible would be placed under close observation, ensuring a continuous supply of fat for the sake of public health. As obesity was a major problem, these scientists believed they had found their own solution. In order to help many, a few would have to contribute their fat. 

Dr. Sorensen even pondered how he could profit from selling the harvested fat to developing countries, where children suffering from starvation could benefit from a few kilos of fat. It seemed like the perfect plan.

In the lab, one scientist was dictating or commenting as they studied the male subjects. "This subject is a hybrid vampire and shifter, a combination of multiple species. Despite being estimated to be over 1000 years old, his fangs differ from those of normal vampires. He is in excellent physical condition, and there are some magical symbols etched into his chest, along with scales. It's possible that he is partially a dragon as well. This subject is well-endowed, but we're unsure if a normal human could engage in sexual activity with him without experiencing some tearing."

Dr. Sorensen walked into the lab, listening as the scientists investigated these peculiar specimens. Their descriptions were clinical, and he noticed that several of the males were clones, almost identical except for a few distinct characteristics. One had scales and a symbol, suggesting a connection to the eliminated freak they had encountered previously. As she had had one too.

He approached the area where women were being studied. They all had curvy figures, but they weren't quite as soft as he preferred. Their thighs had significant muscle definition and their abs were well-defined, but they would serve as breeders for specific clients.

He preferred his women to be soft, with thick, jiggly thighs, large wobbly buttocks, and huge, heavy breasts. He had lost most of his cock before reaching his teenage years and had undergone surgery to compensate for it, but the result was not as large, sensitive, or functional as he had hoped. Although he experienced some sensation, it wasn't true pleasure. Having these women lick and suck him felt more like humiliation than genuine pleasure-seeking.

As a businessman, he saw most things and people as tools to be used for his own gain, to make more money. Perhaps one day there would be an operation that could provide him with a truly sizable and functional cock. However, he couldn't help but feel envious of those who already had it, even though he never voiced this aloud. He was even thinking if he could get it from one of these, would it be functional?

Once these women passed the initial tests, he could plan how to utilize them most efficiently and present his strategy to the board. He looked forward to the board, rewarding him for acquiring such valuable specimens for their use.

He had once been regarded as a prodigy, but his experiences of being teased and tormented in school, as well as his negative encounters with women, had left a lasting impact on him. He no longer wanted to be weak; he desired strength, and nothing could stop him once he found a way. As for morals, he truly had none.

He chuckled to himself, acknowledging that he embodied the archetype of a villain or mad scientist. Fame was not his goal; he sought fortune and power. He was the one in control, making decisions and holding the lives of others in his hands. No one would ever ridicule him again or dare to label him a sociopath, threaten to institutionalize him or suggest a lobotomy.