Guzma gets fucking bullied (Aether x Guzma for /guz/)

Just as a warning, this is for real non-con shit, if it's a trigger for you take it seriously and don't read.
This was mainly inspired by Coarsefur's art (especially http://coarsefur.tumblr.com/image/154219797319) and is dedicated to the degenerates at /guz/. Plz no bully.

     It was early evening when Guzma heard a timid knock on his bedroom door. Laying on his bed, he whipped a pillow at the door in response, then slowly hauled himself out of bed and dragged himself to the door. He scrunched his face into the hardest look he could muster and cracked the door open enough so that just his face was looming out, staring down the grunt who had so carelessly bothered him. "What the hell do you want? Do you wanna get a beatdown?!" He boomed out at them.

     "N... No?" The grunt's voice cracked. He tried to muster up as much courage as he could, despite the Big Boss's face making his testicles feel like they were trying to escape into his body. He swallowed and tried again, remembering to start with a more hearty denial. "No, Boss! I have a message from Branch Chief Faba, yo!"

     Guzma sighed. He hated that smug asshole with a passion. He didn't like being looked down on, and that guy managed to get under his skin whenever he talked down to him with his fingers twirling in his stupid-ass goatee. He wanted to rip it off his face and see how he liked him then! He growled to himself. "What does 'Branch Chief Faba' want to tell me, then?," he spat. No doubt he had insisted his grunt make sure to use his full title. Asshole.

     "The Prez wants to see you, boss, said it was real important, too, yo! Something only you can do, too, yo!" The grunt awkwardly punctuated his message with his usual hand motions. Guzma's expression perked up at the possibility of a meeting with Lusamine, hopefully it was something important that only Guzma could do. He loved being able to prove his importance to her, especially if it annoyed the rest of her lackeys. He rubbed his hand through his hair and opened the door wider, looking less intimidating and more tired.

     "Good work, Grunt. Let Plums know that she's gotta hold the mansion for a bit. Maybe your Boy'll bring some malasadas on the way back, if the news is good." The grunt's face brightened as Guzma brushed past him. Aether paydays always ended up being a good time for the Skull Fam.

      "Yeah, sure thing Guz-, uh, Mister Guzma." He swaggered off as hard as he could to find the Skull Admin. Guzma watched his back as he left, before heading out of the mansion and into the neverending rain of Po Town. He wandered a bit until he found what he was looking for. He made a cursory glance around in case anyone was skulking too close, then stepped into the warp port to the Aether Paradise that he'd been given.

     He was always impressed by the huge steel-grey building when he came to it, but he'd never admit it. It didn't have any of the personal touches of his mansion, and no chair would ever be as comfortable as his throne. Besides, he never felt entirely welcome- everyone was buzzing around trying to be an authority on this and that, always talking down and making him feel stupid. If they didn't seem so caught up on pretending to care for pokemon, he'd beat them down in a good battle and prove just how strong he was!

      "Mr. Guzma! Over here, if you will." Guzma looked up from his distracted walking to see one of the Aether Grunts summoning him to the elevator pad. "I'm here to take you to your meeting." He squinted at her, before following onto the elevator.

     "Do you have any idea why y'all wanted your boy here so fast?" He asked. She faced away from him, punching something into the console of the elevator.

     "I'm afraid I don't have specialized clearance for that knowledge, Mr. Guzma. I'm just to bring you to where you need to be." She replied, hitting the final key. The elevator began to descend. He looked confused. He'd never been to the basement before. The grunt looked visibly uncomfortable to be stuck in the same elevator as he was. He'd chalk it up to her being impressed by his size, and threw a toothy grin her way. She ignored it. They arrived at their floor and the gates descended, the grunt disembarking first and extending a palm in the direction they were meant to travel. "Please follow me."

     He sauntered along behind her for several hundred feet, until they met up with a small team of Aether Scientists, one of whom was a large man in a gold and white bug-like mask. He eyeballed him; he was easily the biggest one in the hall. Guzma scowled when the grunt handed him off to the team, said a quick goodbye to him and left hurriedly. The scientists nodded him in a direction rather than speaking, and he obliged with a huff. They walked until they came upon a room hidden off to the side. It looked strange; there was a wall and a door facing the group, but two large alleys going down either side of the room's perimeter. As they approached, the bug-man opened the door for him and he noticed that the walls to the sides and back were glass. It appeared to be some kind of observation chamber.

     Guzma paused at the entrance and took in the room- it was sparsely decorated with a table, a desk with a computer, and a chair sat at each. Everything was pristine white and he suddenly felt like he was somehow sullying the room with his presence, like his very being wasn't pure enough to set foot into it. He was physically knocked out of his reverie by the massive Aether scientist walking into his back, his mass rocking him onto the balls of his feet before he caught himself and stepped forward. "Woah there big man, watch yourself if you know what's good for ya," He snapped, the uncertainty of what was going on making him even more irritable than usual.

     He couldn't see the man's face under that oddly buglike helmet, but he got the impression that he was smirking at him. It irked him. He didn't like not being in charge, but he knew he was on a short leash where Lusamine was concerned. Not that he minded,  as long as her shitty underlings didn't overstep their bounds and start bossing him around. He glared back at the man and sauntered into the room. He looked around lazily, observing the outer areas that could be seen through the glass. There wasn't much to see; this room seemed to be tucked away from the bustle of the main floors. To the rear of the room he could see a small elevator door open along the wall of the alley, and saw Faba and a few more masked scientists approaching. His annoyance only grew at seeing that numbskull's face, and no sign of the Prez. He scowled at his approach, a picture of open hostility.

     "good evening, mister, ah, Guzma," Faba sniffed as if the name itself smelled bad. "so kind of you to show up."

     "where's the president?" Guzma asked, suspicion creeping into his voice, "I was told I had an important meeting with her, man. Why are you here wasting my time? I'm a busy guy, ya know"

     Faba smiled, a somewhat disconcerting look on him. "ah, yes, we will only take a little of your time and then you can get back to graffiting buildings and shaking down children for their lunch money or whatever it is that you and your little dumbasses do to fill your busy days, 'Boss'." His voice dripped with an acid that went straight to Guzma's rage centre.

     Guzma was livid. How fucking dare he? He was the Big Boss of Team fuckin' Skull, how dare this poncy little twig man insult him? "Hey man, fuck you! Just get the prez and get out of here, stop playin'!" His chest heaved as he drew himself up to his full height. Faba just stood idly, smiling. There was a double pane of Ultra Beast-proof glass between them. Guzma could impotently rage at him all he wanted.

     "Oh, madame Lusamine won't be joining us today, and certainly won't be joining you." Faba quipped, his smile growing bigger. The scientists clicked their pens and began writing things onto their clipboards. Guzma heard the sound of an airlock engage behind him and whirled around. It was just him and the giant scientist. The sound of Faba's voice suddenly crackled through a speaker into the room. He stood with his index finger jammed onto a button just outside of the room, speaking into a microphone. "We needed to get you here to perform a little experiment with our new Ultra Beast containment system, and how well it will work while under... Stress." His voice sounded disturbingly gleeful. "I have been given the all-clear to begin the test with you, my tetchy friend, seeing as you seem to act like a beast any chance you get." he chuckled at his own poor joke.

     Guzma cocked an eyebrow his way. "What the fuck? What the hell are you on about? You think you can fuck with your boy Guzma? Tch!" He whipped around to the man in the room with him and began advancing on him, before he was engulfed in a thick cloud of mist being pumped into the room from vents along the ceiling. He yelled in surprise and jumped back, whirling around in confusion. The air immediately began to feel heavy and his breathing constricted. He coughed, trying to expel the awful substance from his lungs, but only breathing more in when he tried to inhale. He tried to curse and yell at Faba but his words began to slur together drunkenly, losing any semblance of coherance. His muscles began to feel like they weren't his anymore, and he was suddenly struggling to remain upright. His heart was pounding in his head and through his swimming vision he noticed a...  Giant bug?- Coming towards him quickly in the mist. No, he realised, it was the Aether scientist. He tried to back away, but his knees buckled underneath him and he sank down to rest on his ankles, realizing to his horror that he couldn't move at all anymore.

     The scientist approached him, grabbing him roughly by the hair and tilting his head back. His sunglasses cluttered to the floor and were kicked away. He would have complained if his bravado hadn't vanished the second he'd slumped to the floor. His vocal chords felt tight from whatever he'd inhaled, and his head being yanked at such an awkward angle made it difficult to breathe, let alone speak. He let out a whimper and mentally cursed himself. "What the fuck, Guzma! How could you be so weak?!"

     The scientist was silent, besides the mechanical breathing noises filtering through his mask. His right hand still tangled painfully in Guzma's hair, he began to unbutton his heavy lab coat, letting it fall open to reveal what was a decided lack of personal protective equipment, in the form of just a pair of pants and no shirt. Guzma's eyes shifted bleary from this new strange stimulus towards the glass wall, and the rapt expressions of Faba and the other scientists, before his brain caught up to him and he realized that the danger was right in front of him. His jaw was slack from being unable to swallow and a small line of drool ran down his chin. The scientist took his free hand and wiped the saliva along his dry lips before shoving his thumb roughly into Guzma's mouth, wiping around it as if testing to see whether he'd try to bite him. He was so far gone he couldn't if he wanted to, the touches barely registering anymore as he focused on simply remaining breathing, chest heaving and nostrils flaring. The scientist looked down at him, drinking in the sight. God, he really did look like a wild animal.

     The scientist paused his prodding to look towards the small group outside, when Guzma heard the speakers begin crackling again, "Looks like he has been properly sedated with the test serum. You may begin." His saliva was beginning to choke him, and he gasped when the hand in his hair released him as the scientist began to undo his pants, inhaling it and doubling over into a painful coughing fit. He slumped forward into the man's legs, tears streaking down his face. "You've really done it this time, Guz," he berated himself, "you're gonna die like some punk bitch for that asshole's amusement". He felt himself hauled up roughly by the neck of his shirt, and the hand returned to his hair. His eyes opened at the feeling of something soft and warm on his cheek, and opened wider when he realised the large bug-man was rubbing his cock along his face. "Fuck fuck fuck what the fuck is this?" it wasn't what he was expecting, but he couldn't even react when the scientist wrenched his head back further and began pushing his straining cock in and out, slowly fucking his slack mouth. It tasted alternately salty and overly sterile, like he'd vigourously washed immediately beforehand. He moved his hands to either side of Guzma's head and began to pick up speed, aggressively hitting the back of his throat and causing him to gag and sputter, openly crying and hating every painful punch to the throat. When the scientist finally pulled out he gasped and whined, trying to fill his lungs with as much air as possible.

     He despised being so helpless, and he especially hated feeling so abused by a man so much bigger than him. He'd worked so hard to escape his old life and use his strength to his advantage, and now he was reduced to a quivering mess because of some goddamn drug? An indescribable feeling settled deep into stomach and he couldn't tell what was causing it, but the feeling greatly disturbed him.

     He was driven from his drugged out, distracted thoughts by the giant man divesting him of his jacket and necklace. He felt his world began to spin as he was hoisted over the man's shoulder and dragged up onto his feet before being tipped back onto the table, his head slamming into it like so much dead weight. He groaned as his ears began to ring loudly and the ceiling began to spin and distort, unsure if it was the drugs or him being mildly concussed. He supposed it didn't matter at this moment, as he realized he was also being roughly stripped of the rest of his clothing, his undershirt being the last to go. The room felt at once too cold and too warm, and he felt his skin begin to prickle with goosebumps.

     Outside of the room, the scientists were furiously scribbling notes onto their clipboards while simultaneously attempting not to miss any of the action. One of them turned slightly to Faba, a questioning look on his face that brought him nothing but annoyance. He sighed. "What is it, Research Subchief Rhus?"

     Rhus internally groaned at the constant use of his full title by Faba. "It's just, uh, Guzma seems somewhat important to Madame President, wouldn't it have been more fitting to test out something like this on one of his grunts?"

     Faba looked peevish. "Do you not understand? This was entirely by her suggestion." He stroked his goatee triumphantly. "President Lusamine doesn't care one bit about this idiot, and as long as her filthy little mutt is brought to heel, I can do whatever I want to him. He'd jump in front of a raging Tauros if she told him to."

     Rhus looked satisfied at his answer, and turned back to watch. Guzma looked absolutely helpless. Without the added bulk of his clothing he really was merely a man, albeit a tall and fairly well-built one. He made a quick notation regarding the efficacy of his suggested dosage based on Guzma's bodyweight and how it could be properly scaled for larger or smaller creatures and tried to ignore how much his pants had begun to tighten.

      Guzma gazed blankly at the criss-crossing network of pipes covering the ceiling, desperately trying to regain his bearings from this new position on the cold metal, when the masked man seemed to disappear momentarily. He wondered if he'd gotten bored and left before strong hands grabbed him roughly by the thighs, hoisting him towards the edge of the table. His grip was bruising in its intensity and Guzma wondered absently what he'd done to piss the guy off so much. A hand snaked under his lower back and he felt something warm and wet slowly prodding at his entrance. His drug-addled brain caught on just in time to send a massive jolt of adrenaline through his body. There was truly no way out of this. His heart began to pound and he began to hyperventilate, trying to squirm away as his muscles failed him. The prodding became more insistent, finally beginning to sink into his unprepared body, his vision exploding in stars as a white-hot fire ripped through his insides. He tried to yell, to push away, to punch that fucker in his stupid bug face, but he could only whimper in pain. The lubricant that the scientist had applied to himself had only made it easier to enter, but with no preparation it did nothing to quell the trauma. The man eventually fully seated himself inside, before he began slowly rocking his hips, leaning over Guzma to get a better glimpse of his face as he fucked him.

     Guzma tried not to cry as the pain overwhelmed him, but he couldn't keep the tears from welling up, blurring his vision as the man above him began to speed up to a bruising pace. He could feel himself tearing, the lubricant and friction burning the hyper-sensitive skin. The man driving into him so hard he heard the table legs begin to scrape across the floor. The scientist grabbed his face and wrenched it towards the observing scientists, the tears that had built up now spilling down his cheeks and neck and onto the table. He could see Faba's delighted smile and he knew that, if he ever saw him again, he would rip his face off. The man was a monster. He could feel his rage and adrenaline increasing as his hips began to numb to the pain from the shock. His hands began to tingle and he realized he could move his fingers. Was he coming out of his stupor? He growled at the man above him, who leaned in close, hand knotting in the back of his hair and violently jerking his head back while he rode him mercilessly. He began to formulate his plan of escape. He was gonna punch his way out and get his bloody revenge before the night was through! He balled his left hand into a fist and readied a sucker punch to the man on top of him.

     Rhus looked up from his notes just in time to see Guzma's hand clench, immediately panicking and running up to knock on the glass- had he underestimated how much sedative to use that badly? A beast (or in this case a man) having enough power and fortitude to come out of the sedative was astounding, and possibly very dangerous for his underling. He needed to warn him!

     With a Herculean effort, Guzma hauled his arm up and punched the bug-man attempting to fuck him senseless. Or he would have, if his arm didn't feel like it weighed an actual ton. All he'd managed to do was lightly tap the man's helmeted face. He stopped moving, looking down at him. Guzma's eyes widened.
SHIT.

     The man grabbed his wrist and smashed it down next to him on the table. Guzma heard the tell-tale plik of glass cracking as his watch broke, the metal digging painfully into his wristbones from the pressure. He winced and drew his eyes back to the masked figure looming over him. The man gave an experimental hard hip thrust, causing Guzma to gasp and sputter out an incoherant "Guh". Yep, he could feel it again. But he also found himself able to move again, if only somewhat. The man began rocking in and out again, slower now. He seemed to be watching Guzma's face raptly, now that he was a bit more capable of emoting. The intensity of the attention he was receiving made him shiver. He wanted it to be over. "Just... just hurry up and f-finish already, yeah?" he breathed out, his voice still barely a whisper.

     He felt the hand on his wrist loosen, and then leave entirely. He sighed with relief until he felt the hand move to his own member, still soft and neglected. The hand began stroking him to hardness and he could feel his breath begin to hitch. This was not his idea of a good time. "N-no... man, just leave it... c'mon..." His face burned in shame as the other man ignored him and kept stroking. Being forced to get off to his own rape seemed less than satisfying, right now. The man began pumping him to the rythm of his thrusts, ramping up to an intense pace. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to block out both the pleasure and the pain.

     The intercom crackled to life, and Guzma heard the hated voice of Faba warble through. "The expiriment is concluding, we have out preliminary results. You may proceed however you wish, Doctor." He gritted his teeth, rage taking over temporarily for sense, but when did it not?

     "Fuck Faba, and fuck you too!" He growled at the man, who responded, as most reasonable people do, by punching him square in the face. Guzma was stunned, blood filling his nose and mouth immediately. The man seemed totally emotionless as he wrapped a hand around Guzma's neck and squeezed, feeling the pulse of his neck kick up to a frenzied hammering as he began to thrash beneath him, while he continued to jerk him off. No amount of sputtering and clawing could remove the man at his throat, and he began to choke on his own blood, falling into absolute terror, the only sound he could hear was the shrill ringing in his ears from before. The man shifted and began slamming into a place that made him see stars exploding alongside the black spots marring his vision, making his stomach muscles clench tightly, and a warmth spread throughout his body as his eyes rolled back and he faded from consciousness.

     He awoke slowly to the feel of someone running their fingers lightly through his hair. He was sat upright on the floor, head slumped forward on their knees. He had been openly drooling onto the floor next to their foot. Every muscle in his body felt seared by fire. Where was he? He cracked his eyes open, trying to blink away the fuzziness. He looked ahead of him onto the pristine white floor, marred with splotches of bright red, his brain slowly piecing together what had happened, when his encounter came flying back to him, and he started with a jolt and a yell. He felt the hands in his hair lightly grab his head to keep him in place, and he heard the voice of an angel above. "Shhh, shh," the voice soothed, rubbing the base of his neck lightly. "You were such a good boy today, Guzma," her voice purred out at him. He felt her move to grasp his jaw with both hands and turn his head to face hers, the radiant light of Lusamine shone down on him, and he felt unworthy.

     "You've helped me so much, Guzma, more than you will ever know." She smiled at him, the picture of serene benevolence. He looked up at her with awe, his eyes more shadowed and hollow than ever, his body leaking blood and semen onto her perfect floor. "Everything you do, you do for me. You're such a good boy." She let his head drop into her lap.

     He cried.