Cal woke up long before he expected Hammer to return. He got out of the cot and padded to the john in the corner. It took longer to piss than usual, because his prick seemed to not want to go soft, even though his bladder was nearly bursting.

Still eventually the morning wood resolved and he felt somewhat relieved. At least physically. Mentally? He’d cum, less than 12 hours ago, if his sense of time wasn’t entirely off, while a brute fucked his asshole. Even trying to frame it as entirely a sex for food exchange didn’t seem to discourage his stupid prick which had stood up as he checked first the small window (he was pretty sure that even if it hadn’t been locked he couldn’t have fit through it but it was a thick pane of cloudy glass that barely let in the light of some blinking neon over night and the sun during the day) then the door (locked from the outside with not even a keyhole on the inside.

He was trapped! He had known that to a degree before, but this was the first time that he had really explored his surroundings. He backed up and ran at the door, (what little amount of a run he could manage in less than eight feet [the distance he estimated the wall opposite the door was from the door]) and hit the door with his shoulder. He might be naked, but escaping here seemed better than continuing to be turned into a prostitute, which he had to admit now was probably what Hammer intended to do to him. He would go home and pretend that he had never ever thought about dressing as a girl, if it meant that he didn’t ever have to trade letting someone use his body for food.

When Hammer opened the door sometime later, Cal was still naked, but fairly badly bruised and crying in the corner. He had nearly drawn blood trying to batter down the door, all for naught...