The sun has barely crested the horizon, and I am already awake, the hum of activity in the hive a constant reminder of my place here. It's been a year since I was taken, since I became "Property of The Hive." A year of existence defined by my utility as a breeding bull for these anthropomorphic bee-human hybrids. My life has been reduced to cycles of mating with fuzzy, four-foot-tall female bee hybrids who are insatiable in their desire to procreate.
I remember the day I was captured; it feels like both an eternity and just yesterday. They swarmed me, their pheromones overwhelming my senses before I could react. When I came to, I was here—a prisoner in this bizarre parody of nature's order where humans are nothing more than vessels for reproduction at the whim of these monstrous creatures that have taken over our world.
The first few weeks were a blur—a disorienting mix of fear and confusion as they broke me in with little care for my humanity beyond what lay between my legs