"Swish-Swish-Swish-Swish-Swish-Swish-Swish..." The repetitive sound almost drove me mad.
"Holy shit... If I keep this up, I'm going to end up pulling my dick out," I muttered through my teeth, my hand working with desperate fury. Seven days in this hell. My arms begged for rest, the blood pulsing too hot in my veins. My whole body felt like it was short-circuiting, with crusts of dried blood sticking to my face - blood that gushed from my eyes, nose and ears. My penis was so sensitive that, even under the effect of that dense pink mist, any touch brought me back to consciousness, a stabbing pain running down my spine.
"I think I've cracked a fucking rib..." I gasped, reaching what must have been my twentieth orgasm just today. "This is pure insanity."
My head throbbed as if nails were being driven straight into my thalamus and prefrontal cortex. When the gas finally dissipated, I collapsed on the bed, exhausted.
"What a pigsty... Such filth," I muttered, looking around. But honestly, who cared? In the desperation for sanity, in the struggle for survival, you lose track of where you relieve yourself.
The floor, the walls, even my bed, which I had always been so careful to keep clean, were covered in a disgusting layer of dried semen, stained with the blood dripping from my face. It wasn't long before sleep overcame me.
"Haaaaa!" I woke up startled. My biological clock had already adjusted to the short breaks between sessions in the damn gas chamber. 'It's going to start in a few minutes,' I thought, feeling panic set in. In a leap, I ran to the tap, cupped my hands and took a sip of water.
'Even that fucking hurts'. I sat on the cold floor, cowering, mentally preparing myself for another round of that hell: desires running wild, the loss of reason, torture with my head stuck in the toilet and the inevitable self-flagellation.
"What the fuck?" I frowned, searching for the gas that normally flooded the room. The minutes dragged by and nothing happened. I got up and went back to bed. In that brief moment of peace, I noticed something that had gone unnoticed over the last few days: the semi-translucent wall separating the rooms, previously completely black, was transparent again.
"There's no one in the next room," I muttered, the realization dawning on me. "Actually... there's no one in the whole complex." In that place full of beds separated by glass walls, I was the only one left.
Time passed and the gas didn't return. I remained conscious for a few hours, but tiredness overcame me and I ended up falling asleep sitting up in bed. The price of seven days of continuous torture finally came due.
For the first time in three years in that place, I had a dream.
'I was in the vastness of the universe, surrounded by stars, constellations and celestial bodies. But in the center of it all, the same two bright spots I saw when I was almost dying on Earth reigned absolute.
'In a millisecond, those two imposing golden eyes were right in front of me. There was no emotion in them, just a transcendent look, as if they could see through everything I was. A deep hatred came over me. I tried to scream at that being, god, or whatever the hell it was. 'Why me? Why so much suffering? What did I do that was so terrible to deserve this? Wasn't all the suffering I endured on Earth enough? Am I some kind of world-destroying villain to be reincarnated into lives of pure misery like this?
'But no sound came out of my mouth. I felt my chest burn as if it were erupting.'
And then I woke up.
My body was drenched in sweat, I was gasping for breath, my mouth was as dry as a desert and my eyes were burning as if they had been scorched with hot coals. The sensation subsided with time, but the questions kept hammering away in my chaotic mind.
'That's what brought me here. Before I only suspected, but now I'm sure. Those golden eyes, that feeling of powerlessness, as if all my secrets and thoughts could be read... it can only be what made me transmigrate into this body.'
My thoughts began to calm down when I noticed something strange. My room was clean. All the fetid filth that had accumulated over the last few days had disappeared, giving way to an atmosphere with a faint scent. 'It smells like chamomile.
"When did they do that? Did I sleep so heavily that I didn't hear the guys come in, clean up and leave?" I asked myself, confused.
Next to my bed, there was a straw basket, just like the others they used to leave. But inside it wasn't the devil's fruit, but real food. Although I had never tasted the cuisine of this world, the memories of the previous Glenn were full of memories of banquets, after all, he was a member of a noble family.
"Roast boar meat browned in goat's butter, potatoes au gratin, buffalo cheese, boiled quail eggs and a sweet and sour orange sauce with wild honey..."
My mouth instantly salivated. Before any remnants of rationality could stop me, I was already biting into a huge piece of wild boar.
'Fuck it, if this is my last meal before I die, at least I'll enjoy it,' I thought. On Earth, it was common for those condemned to death to receive a last meal before execution. 'If it's the same here, at least I'll die with a full belly.
The meal was enough to feed two hungry adult men, but it didn't last more than ten minutes in my hands. I gnawed the bones of the boar shank down to the marrow and licked the bowl of sweet and sour sauce.
"Haaaaa..." Tears streamed down my face.
Three years without a decent meal. Three years of torture and slave labor, three years of witnessing countless deaths.
In those three years, I even killed to survive, and not a few times. In those three years, no matter how unstable my mind became, something else grew exponentially inside me, to the point where it surpassed all my other characteristics.
The will to live. Living became so strong in me, so ingrained in my being, that even in that hell the thought of killing myself never crossed my mind. On the contrary, I did everything I could to keep my life alive. Even when the hope of escape died, the hope of living kept pulsating. Even when the hope of freedom was buried seven feet under, the hope of living flew high in the sky like an eagle that isn't afraid of heights.
I lay back in bed, my belly full and feeling a sense of satisfaction that I hadn't felt for a long time.
Two days passed and I continued to receive meals fit for a king every six hours. One of the guards, unlike the executioners I was used to seeing, told me that I was going to leave that place. A mixture of confusion, joy and disbelief came over me. Out where? To do what? And, above all, why?
No matter how many times I asked, the answer was always the same: "We don't know". At first, I thought they were playing me, but I began to realize that they really didn't know anything.
A tightness appeared in my chest. Something inside me told me it wasn't over yet.
I began to trust my instincts to survive in that hell. They had saved me from landslides, from attacks by other demons, even from the insane consequences of the devil's fruit. But this time it was different. It was as if someone had stuck their hand into my chest, under the skin and bones, and squeezed my heart hard.
"Damn it! Damn it!" I tried to calm down. "There's no point in getting anxious about what hasn't happened yet. Leave the problems of the future for the future"
Another day passed, and the routine of nutritious meals continued. A veritable feast every six hours: a balanced mix of aromatic and medicinal herbs, fresh vegetables, juicy proteins and energy-giving carbohydrates. My body, hungry for nutrients, responded quickly. "I must have put on at least seven kilos in the last three days," I muttered, running my hand over my abdomen, feeling the difference. The extreme thinness, the result of years of deprivation, was beginning to give way to a more... human appearance.
My hair, which had always been disheveled and short, now reached my shoulders, falling in dark waves, the result of my different treatment over the last thirty days.
My skin, once pale and almost translucent, was regaining a healthy tone. And the most surprising thing: all the superficial wounds that had accompanied me over the last few days had healed.
'Is it because of the herbs? Or the meat of those magical beasts they give me? I have no idea... The original Glenn didn't have access to this food, he hadn't awakened yet,' I concluded thoughtfully. 'It's nice to see the skin on my cock healthy again.
Although it was still marked by numerous scars, these hadn't disappeared. Suddenly, the sound of locks opening echoed down the corridor.
The door to my room creaked open, revealing a different guard from the enforcers I was used to seeing.
This one was taller, wearing polished armor that shone under the light of the crystals, and his face was covered by a helmet that concealed his features. He stared at me with cold, inexpressive eyes, and his voice, although muffled by the helmet, sounded firm and authoritative.
"Glenn Carborex," he said, without any preamble. "Follow me."