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DISCLAIMER: The following story is for adults 18+ ONLY! Anyone younger must GTFO. Also, all rights to The Hunger Games belong to Scholastic, Susanne Collins, and the films studios. This is a parodic story, and I claim no ownership to the original property.

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS!: This story is an AU take on the events around the middle of Mockingjay, the third book in the Hunger Games series. If you haven't read that yet, this won't make sense, and will also spoil an amazing twist that happens in that book. I don't wanna be the one to ruin a great series for some new reader. You've been warned.
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The Hunger Games: Burned Inside Out
by SpaceSamurai (MC, oral, MF, MFF, BDSM, nc, cons, preg?)

When I come to, all that I see is clean white and bright lights. Is this it? Am I dead? Did my luck from the Hunger Games, from the war zone, from the bombings...did my luck finally run out?

And then my head throbs miserably and I know I'm not dead; I was just knocked out for a little while. How, I'm not sure. And what happened in the meantime...

My fingers brush the light cotton cloth clinging to my hot skin with sweat. I must be in the hospital wing in District 13. But what can I remember?

I remember I'd been bed-ridden while the others were-

Peeta!

I sit bolt upright.

They had come back from the rescue mission with Peeta and Joanna and the others. I had slept through the whole thing, and just like that, I wake up and Haymitch tells me they got him. And then we went into his room, alone and-

Suddenly, I'm aware that where I am isn't where I should be.

I'm in a white room, and in a hospital bed, and in a medical gown. That makes sense.

But what doesn't make sense is that there are no other beds, no curtains, no machines, no doors that I can see. Just a blank white room.

Where the hell is everybody?

I check my arms and legs for signs of any new scars or, worse, chips. Nothing. That's good. I flash back to the morning after the Games, when they had me strapped to a bed, tubes running out of every part of me, or after the second Games (god, why did all of this have to happen to me?), when I swore the Capital had captured me when...when I thought I'd have to kill Peeta for mercy.

"Oh god," I whisper involuntarily.

A loud, mechanical hiss behind me makes me jump. I try to turn to see what it was, but out of nowhere the shooting pain in my neck locks my head rigidly forward. Must have slept on it wrong. Or something.

I ball my hands into fists, ready for a fight, when I hear a voice. "Katniss."

"Peeta?"

And he steps into view. In my confusion I almost swing at his nose, but he raises his hands in a calming gesture and I feel a little dizzy.

"Wh-what..." I can hardly even talk. He looks perfect, no sign of struggle or torment. He even looks happy. Of course, I remind myself. He should be happy. He's safe now. As am I, I realize. Just paranoid.

"Peeta," I sigh. "I thought I'd never see you again."

He pats my hand gently. "Well, you're seeing me now."

I reach forward and hug him to me, and despite everything we've been through, I'm comforted more than words can express.

I pull back and examine his face. There's a hint of something. Mischief? He looks like there's a joke I'm missing out on that everyone knows but me. But it's just the two of us, so...

"What?" I ask. "Why am I here? Did I do something stupid?"

He snickers. "Well, a little. You could say you lost your head a little."

I'm too scared to ask him more than that. Maybe I had some sort of blackout, a flashback from the dark nights in the arena. Or maybe I was so relieved to see him I got hysterical.

I decide it's best not to ask him about his time in the Capital. Let this reunion be a happy one, I reason.

"So, did they say how long I'd have to be in here this time?" I ask with a smirk.

His eyes brighten.

"Actually, they said we'll both be doing a lot of physical activity today. In fact, it shouldn't be long now before we're better than ever."

My face must show my skepticism, because he shrugs.

"Come on, Peeta. I can barely turn my head. I must have screwed something up."

"Oh that," he says with a dismissive wave. "That's...not important. Trust me. You'll be feeling like new inside of, oh, I don't know."

He pulls back the sleeve of his all-white jumpsuit and checks his watch. Wait, I think. That's not a watch.

"Did Coin let you have that?"

He snorts. "Coin? That bitch? I'll fuck the life out of her before I take orders from her."

I'm so shocked by what Peeta says that I almost miss the blinking numbers on his wrist device.

"Peeta! Wait, is that a countdown? What-"

He glances at the time. Whatever it's counting to, it's getting awfully close. "Ha! You really don't remember do you?"

I look into his face for some sign of joking, but suddenly, his gaze is a fixed sneer. It's a dirty look, not at all becoming on his soft features, almost frightening. No, not almost. It's frightening, though I have no idea why Peeta should scare me.

"What...what don't I remember, Peeta?" I ask in a hushed tone.

He shakes his head. "These scientists. They really are the best in the world. Get a little funding behind you, anything's possible."

My jaw clenches. "No more games, Peeta. What is going on?"

He stands straight up and begins to back away. "Oh, I think the games are just about to begin. Tell me, just who are you?"

What?

"I-I'm Katniss Everdeen, from District 12. I'm a hunter. People in 13 have started calling me the Mockingjay, so I guess I'm that too. What are you trying to ask?"

He makes a tisk sound.

"That's not true, Katniss. Tell you what." He checks his watch. "I'll count to 5, and you try to collect your thoughts, and you'll get another chance to answer the question."

Something about his question is making me back away in my bed, not that I can go far, but I need to put distance between us, for some reason.

I am Katniss Everdeen, freedom fighter from District 12, The Girl Who Was On Fire.

"Five."

I...I'm Katniss Everdeen...my friends are-

"Four."

Um. My name is Katniss. I was in the Hunger Games.

"Three."

Katniss Everdeen. Sister Primrose. I don't care about fighting. Right?

"Two."

I'm Katniss Everdeen, and I...work for....something...

"One."

No, not something...some-ONE... serve-

A high-pitched whistle blares through my mind, and then...........

I open my eyes. I'm standing alone in the middle of an empty white room. I feel cold air on my skin and know that I'm naked, but when I look down, I don't recognize myself.

That's when I realize I can't remember what my body is supposed to look like.

Everything is a swirl, a wave of confusion, of questions. Who am I? What was I doing? A word keeps going through my brain: "Serve." But who? And why? It all seemed so clear a few minutes ago, didn't it? Why so fuzzy now?

A smell suddenly stings my nose, arms of scent reaching out to me, cradling me in clarity. It's hard for me to place. I know I should know this. Then, by instinct, it comes to me:

The sweet musk of roses and the rich aroma of blood.

A rush coalesces in me of understanding and self-realization. The smell triggers my memories. I know everything. And when I turn and see President Snow draped in a silken purple robe, I know what I have to do.

I drop to my knees. I avert my eyes, as is proper when greeting the President.

"You know who you are," he croaks. I hear his grin. I beam with pride down to my very soul.

"Yes, my Lord," I intone reflexively. "I am Katniss Everdeen. I serve the Capital. I live and die for the good of Panem and the will of its leader."

Snow laughs. It's hard and malicious, but it's a recognition of all that I am and I feel blessed to hear it.

He opens his robe. "Serve," is all he has to say, and I crawl to him, hand over hand, until my face meets face-to-face with his bobbing, surgically-enlarged penis. I chance a glance into Snow's face, and his eyes are ripe with...hunger.

I open my mouth and give his tip a tentative lick. He must be excited, as a drop of precum meets my tastebuds. Strawberry, I note with glee. His cum tastes like strawberry.

"I know you're not wondering," I hear him say. "But I'll explain it anyway, because this moment is the culmination of a great deal of intensive work."

I continue my nervous licking, but my servitude is unfit for my president's needs. He grips my hair and shoves his length into my throat. Despite my conditioning, I gag, just enough for my throat to clench around the head of his cock. He begins to roughly fuck my face, and in time I meet his wishes with force, providing my Master with the brutal pleasure he desires.

"You developed into quite the nuisance, Katniss," he explains. "You grew into a leader of your misfit band of miscreants, and it seemed that even I couldn't stop you, for a time. But I knew that as long as I had him, as long as Peeta was in my grasp, I could crush you. As time wore on, your media presence outgained my own, and I knew that simply killing you was not the ultimate victory. No, I needed to regain and strengthen control of the people. Brute force wouldn't be enough. I needed to make you one of us.

"I had the world's best scientists at work for weeks trying to break your little loverboy, to make a test subject out of him. We tried chemical methods, tried plying his fear of violence, even tried to trick him into thinking your band were the Capital and we were the resistance. It all failed, until we discovered the strongest response wasn't to negative emotion, but to physical pleasure. It released primal instincts in him which we could then manipulate through mental conditioning.

"But the thing that finally sealed our power over the boy was a microchip. The circuitry, ironically enough, was designed by that turncoat from District 3, Beetee. When attached to the brain stem and fed through the synapses with wires, we were able to not just monitor but actively direct Peeta's emotions, his memories, and, when a full connection was established, his thoughts. Combined with the physical conditioning, he was a perfect servant of the Capital in less than a week.

"Then it was just a matter of getting you here. With Peeta's- hehe -rescue mission, we were able to trap you and, like the perfect sleeper agent he is, he was able to smuggle you to a caravan in the woods outside of 13.

"By the time dawn broke the next morning, you were here, a chip implanted in your neck, a visor feeding you images of sexual servitude, a pair of headphones training you with trigger phrases and correct responses, and electrodes on your erogenous zones to make you the perfect little slut slave for my will. Which you are. And which you will always be from now on."

I know my true purpose in life. Everything I've ever done has lead to this moment, and I swell with bliss as thick drool falls from the cock in my mouth to my naked, heaving breasts.

I feel him tightening, quickening his pace, and I am on the verge of a spiritual breakthrough when he cums down my greedy, unworthy throat, his hot sperm coating my mouth in a seemingly endless stream. Before his biologically enhanced load is finished, he pulls out, and his seed sprays untamed onto my wanton face.

I can hardly maintain my glee. In the reflective glint of his red hot glare, I swear I can see myself grinning as my loving leader's sticky, warm semen makes my skin glisten with lustful abandon. I'm so busy adoring his gift that I nearly forget my place.

"Thank you, President Snow," I moan. "How may I continue to serve you?"

His gums are red as though on the verge of bleeding, but the grin they surround brings tears of joy to my eyes.

"Not so rebellious now, are you Mockingjay?" he sneers.

I shake my head. "No, Master. Never again the Mockingjay. I am your most humble servant."

He grits his teeth. "Prove it to me," he hisses. "Bow to me."

I nod. "Yes, my lord."

Already on my knees, I need only to raise my arms above my head and lean forward, all the way forward, my face gracing the floor where droplets of his cum dot the ground. I hope he does not notice as my tongue darts out to gather them.

I am so enamored by the sweet taste tingling in my mouth I don't notice Snow positioning himself behind my prone body. It isn't until he's gathered my hips in his greasy grip that I realize he's there. And by then I feel something. A pressure, where I've never felt one before.

"You know," Snow growls, "in some circles, they call this hole-"

He grabs hold of the braid that runs down the length of my back, yanking me up until I'm arched so high I feel like I'll snap my spine.

"-the rosebud."

The pressure instantly builds to pain as his rock-hard cock, barely lubricated by the remaining spit and cum, pushes past my cheeks and deep, deeper into my asshole, rutting my depths with malice, his thick rod expanding and damaging my private passage.

"Scream!" he cries, and I do. I call for mercy, for salvation, but as I begin to revel in my own servitude, the depravity of my actions, I begin to plead for more, don't stop, please, and of course Snow obliges. He pounds my ass angrily, his thrusts making loud slapping sounds against my cheeks, his grip still pulling back my hair like the reins on a bucking horse. He means to break me, to punish me, and I know why and I know that he's right, I've done terrible things to my beloved Capital. But he doesn't need to. I'm already broken.

I'm already his.

A grand smack and a burning sting in my right ass cheek brings me back into the focus of the task at hand.

"Do you like that?" he barks. "Do you like to be spanked, you impudent little slut?"

"Yes, Master," I heave with effort. "I love to serve you in whatever manner you choose."

He spanks me hard on the other cheek, then alternates, front hand, back hand, always leaving behind gruesome pain that rocks me. Tears soak my cheeks and I wail involuntarily, wail like I did when my father died, but deep down I know now that his death was justified, because it lead me to Him to my President, to the bliss of servitude. My tears are of pain and of triumph.

With the love of my leader embedded deep in my bowels, I spasm as I cum, cum from absolute servitude and honor at being chosen to pleasure the Capital even as he brings me pain, pain I deserve.

Snow swiftly pulls out of my rear and pushes me fully to the floor, still twitching. He walks to my front and lifts my chin with his hairy toes. I look up into a face red with angry, vicious lust. His head rears like a snake, and he spits into my eyes. Reflexively I reach up with one hand to wipe it away, but he stomps down on my fingers, making me gasp in pain and holding me firmly in place.

When he lifts his foot from me, he reaches down and pulls me by the hair back into a kneeling position. The spittle dries on my eyelids but he has not told me to open them, so I don't. I receive a hard slap across the face and, my jaw now loosened, I feel his member once again pressing at my lips. I open my mouth to receive him, and am appalled at the mixture of blood and shit that coats his beautiful penis.

This will not do, I think, as I begin to clean him with my mouth. His cock is too glorious to be covered in my unclean juices. I suck more and more of him into me, cleaning him from tip to base.

When the curls of his pubic hair bristle against my nose, his hand shoves onto the back of my head. Smothered by his pelvis, his cock fully in my windpipe, I cannot breathe. Panic grips my limbs and I begin to flail wildly, but my mind is oddly calm. If this is how I am to die, I think, at least I die doing what I love with the man I love the most. Few people are ever so lucky.

"This is what you get," he spits, "when you defy me. Violating our way of life brings you a slow, painful death."

His words echo through me, more and more faint as I begin to lose consciousness.

"But be a good slave," he says, releasing my head at last, "and the reward of life is yours."

I fall back, gasping in deep breaths of sweet rosy air and coughing, sputtering back into the bright white world. Snow tells me to open my eyes, and I see he has reached out his hand, clearly asking me to thank him for letting me live. I grab his fingers worshipfully and kiss them.

"Thank you, thank you, my lord, thank you," I hear myself mutter over and over again.

"You're welcome, slave." His voice is so forgiving, I grow moist in his benevolence.

He takes back his hand and claps twice. "Send him!" he calls out to no one I can see.

A hissing sound, and from behind I hear, "All hail Snow!"

It's Peeta. When he finally walks over into view, I see he, like me, is fully naked. I gasp. His penis is obscenely long and fully erect. Had it ever been so long before? Or has the Capital blessed him with such a beautiful gift?

"Ah, young Peeta," Snow says, as if he hadn't expected him. "I'm glad you're here to join us. You, of course, remember Katniss?"

He nods but does not look at me, does not see my bruised, cum-streaked face, the lewd expanse of my raw asshole, the dried spit on my growing tits. Or the smile that tops it all.

Snow grins again. "Well, we all know how much you and she have been through, how much you've wanted her, but how much she threw your love back in your face, how she made you feel worthless for loving her."

Guilt shoots through me. He's absolutely right. The old me was so cruel. I never want to be her again.

"Well," Snow says, gesturing to me, "now's your chance, my boy. Give her what she deserves."

Now Peeta turns to me, and I see vengeance broiling in his eyes.

He walks to me cautiously, assuring himself that I won't recoil and strike. But I won't. I know he must punish me, and I revel in the thought.

When he knows I won't attack him or defend myself, he hauls back and punches me squarely in the face. His muscular arms ripple with minimal effort, but the blow knocks me back to the ground and almost into the cold sleep of unconsciousness. Blood begins to fill my mouth and I know the shot has loosened a few teeth.

Before I can try to spit the blood out of my mouth, Peeta kneels over my face. He reaches down and pries open my eyes with his fingers. I see his chest heaving with ragged, active breaths.

"All those nights I laid with you," he practically shouts, "you never once had the decency to return the favor. I had nightmares too, Katniss. All you ever cared about is yourself. I gave everything for you! My family! My home! What do you have to say for yourself?!"

"I'm sorry" burbles through the blood, and he slaps me to drive home the point.

"Not as sorry as you're going to be."

He stays kneeling above me, his cock jutting proudly over my frozen gaze. He pulls my head up, straining my necks as far as it will, until he enters my mouth. Trails of bloody spit stain my cock as I begin to suck and bob, nursing the hurt in my jaw as best I can but still trying to gain forgiveness, to be saved even though I know I don't deserve saving.

Looking up at Peeta, his teeth are bared and he's grunting like an animal as he starts to fuck my face. Hard. The punch has made everything tender, made every little move a stabbing pain, but he shoves himself into me with full vigor and I can hardly stand it. But I know I must endure it. It's what I deserve.

Peeta reaches back and punches me in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me, which only forces his member deeper into my gullet when I struggle to regain my breath. He laughs, like he's winning a violent game, basking in the fruits of his torturous treatment.

Finally, when he's close to finishing, he pulls out of my mouth with a loud 'pop!'

He leans back and enjoys what he sees. I can't hold out any longer, and I spit as much blood as I can onto the white floor. He chuckles at this as he moves lower, crawling his way down my body, pinching and harshly squeezing my tits.

"Not bad," he says, as though sizing up a cut of meat. "But imagine these things plumped up, tight balls from a dozen surgeries. You could look like a real Capital girl."

In another life I would have found this thought disgusting. Now I grow wet with the thought of big fake Capital tits.

Peeta's kneeling between my legs, his fingers tracing the outline of my pussy and making me squirm.

"You know, the Capital taught me a few of your trigger phrases," he says absently. "One in particular sounded like it could really be fun when I take you."

He grabs hold of my wrists, pushing himself up as he holds me down, his tip just meeting the entrance to my cunt when he whispers, "Burn again, Mockingjay."

My eyes roll back into my head as my world flips upside down. When I come to, everything is horror. I remember it all: The conditioning. The violation of every part of my body, of my mind. I remember the resistance, the war, the Hunger Games, my hatred of the Capital. I remember my home, gone. I remember Gale. My mother. Prim.

And I remember what I've done since they brought me here, and I want to vomit.

I'm struck with fear. "Peeta!" I scream. "Peeta, what are you doing?! Don't-"

And when he shoves his cock into me, and the head of it presses into my cervix, I begin to weep. I try to break free of his grip on my arms, but I can't, he's too strong, and my body's been through so much.

His cock continues to violate me, and the evil grin freezes my blood. Gone is the kind boy who saved my life. Now there's just Peeta, my captor. My rapist. And I'm powerless to stop it.

"Please!" I cry. "No, god, Peeta please stop! Please stop!"

"Are you sorry now, bitch?!" he screams.

"Yes!" I wail. "Yes I'm sorry, just please NOOOO!"

And that's all I can manage before, with a cackle of triumph, he shoves himself to the hilt in my womb, and I feel him shoot hot jets of cum into me over and over, each spray a new nightmare. There's so much, it seems to never end. I think of the baby we pretended to have. I would have considered having a real one with him someday. But not like this. Not like this.

When he pulls out, still holding me, I can feel streams of his cum leaking out of me and onto the floor. I hear someone clapping and I go rigid.

Snow.

I'd almost forgotten he was there. And now he has me, right where he wants me, and Peeta's cum is leaking out of my violated pussy and I can't do anything but sob and beg for mercy. And I do. I can't fight anymore. I'm trapped. I'll die like this, and there's nothing I can do.

Snow puts his hand approvingly on Peeta's shoulder.

"Very impressive, Peeta," he says. "You'll be a valuable servant of the Capital."

Peeta's grin is more disturbing than the happiness behind it, crooked and sharp, nothing like the warm smiles he used to give me.

Snow chuckles. "I can't help thinking, I didn't cum when I took your rosebud, Mockingjay."

My eyes widen in terror. No. He can't mean what I think he means.

"Hold her down for me, Peeta," he says, as he takes Peeta's place between my thighs.

"No!" I shriek. "Anything but that!"

"Now now, Katniss," he says as Peeta grabs my arms from behind, a worthless gesture as my arms are as weak as a child's. "Be glad. District 13 used you for their propaganda machine, and so will I. But I don't care about the rebellion; they'll be crushed with little trouble. No, what we need to worry about is population control. There are simply too many people dying, and there weren't that many of us to begin with. We need to breed."

His old, disgustingly hard penis rocks against my lips, and I see the tip come up above my mound briefly. It might be from my tears, but I swear I see a drop of shining cum already leaking out of it. I want so badly to die before he can do what he's going to do, but I can't even kill myself.

"You're to be the face of our new baby boom. You'll take the seed of every able-bodied man we can find, and you'll teach other women to do the same. The districts will be farmed like cattle, bred to serve and serving by breeding. And you'll be their champion after all."

I would never believe what he's saying if I hadn't seen what his horrific treatment had done to me, hadn't seen what I became, and I know what he says is true, and I've never felt more hopeless in my life.

Snow positions himself at my entrance and I know I have only a few seconds to plead for freedom, as unlikely as the chance may be.

"Please, no, I'll do anything, Snow, just not that, not THAT!"

And then he pushes into me, and there is nothing I can do but cry for help that I know will never come. With each thrust, my life seems further from me. District 12. Hunting in the woods with Gale. Haymitch coming to my aid. My mother healing the sick. My sister being brave for my sake. All gone. I'm all alone, with no one to keep me from my terrible fate.

All that's left for me is to live as livestock for the wickedness of the Capital.

Snow, already close from my earlier ministrations, seems to push harder into me, and my voice is so hoarse from screaming it hardly makes as sound.

And then he cums into me. And he throws back his head and laughs, a bitter, howling laughter like he's won everything, like the whole world is his, which, with my help, it will be. I know it and I wish for nothing but sweet death to take me.

Suddenly, Snow brings his face right up to mine. "I want you to always remember this moment. I'm going to bring you back whenever I can so you can wallow in what you've done, betraying your friends and family, living as a pregnant fucking whore for my use and abuse. I want to see that fear behind your eyes whenever I fuck you. And when I do, I want you to remember this, when it all started, so you'll know, when the time comes, that all your worst fears came true. That I have absolute power over you, and that all along I was right and you are nothing. And when you birth my heirs, you'll know it was all against your will."

This should make me feel angry or defiant, should give me the strength to break free and to kill Snow and Peeta and myself so I can save Panem and my loved ones from the torment that's sure to come.

But all I feel is numb acceptance. No more fighting. There's nothing I can do, and I'm too broken to care.

He doesn't even need to trigger me back into bliss, but, thankfully, he does. "Fire down, slave."

And just like that, I glow with happiness. What was wrong with me? I must have been crazy not to feel blooming pride when my glorious leader President Snow told me of his desires for me. And then he graced me with his sacred seed, and I should think I'd died and gone to Heaven!

To be a child-bearing whore for President Snow and the Capital, to show others the way of servitude, is now my life's greatest wish, and already it's coming true.

Peeta sees the change in my eyes and lets my arms free. I immediately shove a finger into my cunt and feel the sloppy mess of semen dripping out. I cup my mound to trap it inside, my thumb just brushes my clit, and I cum, cum for love, cum for the glory of the Capital, cum for my President.

"Thank you, Master," I choke through blissful tears. "Thank you, my lord. I love you, President Snow."

He leans in and kisses me, the smell of roses pungent, almost suffocating, and whether the blood I taste is from my mouth or his or both, I don't care. I'm kissing a god of a man, and he has given me his seed.

And I, the girl who was on fire, have never felt hotter.

    

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