Sold

Sanji ignored Vito’s prattling, which had been going non-stop for days, his mind turned inward as he was transported inside Bege’s body to Totto Land. His mind had been awhirl as he tried to understand what was happening. It had to be a joke, a farce put on by someone unknown. If Vito hadn’t mentioned Zeff’s life being in danger, Sanji would have kicked these clowns’ asses and escaped with Nami, Brook, and Chopper. Instead, Sanji was on his way to meet up with his father to put an end to the insane idea that Sanji was going to marry some woman he didn’t know. 

He couldn’t believe it. When he saw the wedding invitation, declaring him the third son of the Vinsmoke family, he thought he was seeing things. He’d been disowned thirteen years ago. His father wanted nothing to do with him. To Judge Vinsmoke, Sanji was a stain on the Vinsmoke name, a weak, disgusting failure that he’d trapped inside a dungeon for ages when Sanji was seven years old. Why the hell would Judge suddenly re-claim Sanji as his own progeny and then try to marry him off. It didn’t make any sense.

Sanji blew out an irritated ring of smoke. He’d shed his fur and was only wearing his frilled-collar white shirt and black trousers. It was the only clothing he had, and he’d been wearing it for a week. He’d washed his clothes, of course, but he really wanted to change into something different. He was grateful he’d put a new pack of cigarettes in his pocket the morning he’d left Zou. He was already down a third of the pack on this annoying voyage from Zou to Totto Land. 

Bege had said they’d be arriving soon. He was to bring Sanji to Germa, which was floating near one of the outer islands of Totto Land. Germa was a seafaring country, made up of multiple ships that could lock together to form the nation. Sanji had grown up moving across North Blue as the Germa clone army, Germa 66, conquered island territories. The Vinsmoke name brought terror with it to the North Blue and had been on its way to tyrannizing the East Blue when Judge had allowed Sanji to escape captivity. 

Sanji wondered why Germa was on the Grand Line. He hadn’t heard news from the East Blue in a while. He’d been too busy with the Straw Hats fighting against the despots who occupied the second half of the Grand Line. He should be with them now, meeting with the alliance in Zou before they were going to proceed to Wano, to put an end to Emperor Kaidou’s reign. Instead, he was sailing to meet his father under the threat of punishment to Zeff. Sanji hated it. He was going to find a den den mushi to warn Zeff, tell his father off, and then leave. 

A knock sounded at the door, interrupting Vito. “We’re here,” Gotti, one of Bege’s men, told them.

Sanji stood and adjusted the cuffs of his shirt. He would’ve felt better in a full suit. Suits were like armor to him, shielding him from the cruelties of the world in finery. 

Sanji was ushered to the edge of the Germa nation, where he leapt over the rolling sea below to land in front of a cadre of soldiers at attention. “Home, sweet home,” Sanji muttered, sticking his hand in his pockets. He strolled casually past the soldiers, ignoring them, heading for the main castle. 

He didn’t have a welcoming party or an escort. Sanji knew he was trapped for the moment. He needed to get to a den den mushi and contact Zeff. He tried to remember the layout of the castle and where one would be located. They didn’t keep them in every room. There should be one in Judge’s study. 

The air was crisp, the sky clear, as Sanji crossed the ground of the main vessel. His lip curled when he saw his father standing at the entrance to the castle. With disgust came a frisson of fear. This man had terrorized and traumatized him for eight years of his existence, four of which he remembered quite clearly. 

Judge Vinsmoke was a large man. Sanji barely came up to his waist. His body was big and bulky, muscles large, his blond mane of hair cascading down his back. His mustache rose like sword-tips from his upper lip. He wore his Generalissimo uniform with 66 embroidered on it. 

“My son,” Judge greeted Sanji upon Sanji’s approach. Germa 66 soldiers stood in a line on either side of the walkway. 

The words on Judge’s lips made Sanji see red. “Don’t talk to me,” Sanji spat. “I have a father, but it’s not you.”

It was the truth. Zeff was Sanji’s father in all but blood. Zeff had been the one to take Sanji in after they’d been capsized and survived starvation. Zeff may have been abusive to Sanji and treated him like shit, but he also taught Sanji to cook, picked him up when he cried, cared for him when he got hurt, taught him about the preciousness of his hands, mentored him, suffered through Sanji’s puberty, shown him the value of treating a woman right, counseled him on sex, didn’t give a fuck that Sanji also was into men, told him that the rough stuff was not appropriate with women, nursed him through broken hearts, and treated him as a human being and not a science project. Judge Vinsmoke was nothing more than a semen-donor to Sanji.

“You think you may speak to me like that now that you are not a sniveling child?” Judge smiled cruelly. “Think again.”

Judge struck, sending a backhand at Sanji. Sanji dodged out of the way. “Fuck you.”

“Tsk. Manners. You’re still royalty.” Judge drew his spear and made to stab Sanji with it. Sanji flipped over it onto his hands and kicked toward Judge’s face. Judge blocked the kick with a gauntlet-covered wrist. “And you’re my son.”

“You’re not my father.” Sanji tried again, aiming a kick for Judge’s chin. Judge blocked with his spear, swung around, and tried to slice Sanji’s knee. Sanji blocked with the armament coated side of his calf. 

“To think, the Sanji I knew can now wield haki.” Judge sounded minorly impressed. “But I have plans for you.”

“I am not getting married!” Sanji dodged another swing of Judge’s spear. He kicked his toe against the ground, lighting his leg aflame. “Whatever stupid plans you made have nothing to do with me. I’m not going to be a part of them.”

“Oh, my son, but you are.” Judge charged his spear. “Electromagnetic crack blaster!”

Electromagnetic power surged from the spear. Sanji shot into an airwalk before it could hit him. He flipped over, creating momentum, his flaming foot rising in temperature until he slammed onto Judge. “Diable Jambe: Concassé.”

Judge was crushed into the ground by the force of Sanji’s kick. The ground splintered beneath his face. The clone soldiers standing along the walkway did nothing. Sanji landed nimbly on his feet a short distance away. “I am leaving. Play your games with one of your other children. I’m not a Vinsmoke anymore.”

Judge roared, rising to his feet, raising his spear again. Sanji launched another kick. “Wall!” Judge ordered. The soldiers jumped in front of Judge, preventing Sanji from reaching him. Sanji was inches away from nailing one in the face. But they weren’t involved in this. He wouldn’t kick someone not fighting him.

Judge had no compunction. His spear pierced through a soldier, the tip touching Sanji's foot. “E.M. Shaft!”

The electromagnetic power that shot from the spear impaled Sanji, sending him flying backwards dozens of feet. He bounced painfully, repeatedly on the ground. His leg was extinguished. Excruciating pain shocked his system from Judge’s weapon, short-circuiting his brain. His eyes rolled back as skid to a stop on the ground and he dropped into unconsciousness.

Sanji found himself in his old bedroom when he regained consciousness. He lifted his hand to his forehead, pressing his palm against it due to the massive headache he had. He swore silently. His show of power had failed. The bastard had beaten him. Once he found that den den mushi, he was going to have to make his leave with his tail between his legs. 

“Good, you’re awake.” Judge’s voice rumbled through the bedroom.

Sanji sat up quickly. He was on the bed, surrounded by the emptiness of his old room. A wardrobe, desk, and chair were the only items that decorated the room, save for the giant portrait of his father standing atop severed heads. Judge stood in the open doorway, arms crossed, a displeased expression on his face. “Piss off,” Sanji told him.

“Your insolence does you no favors,” Judge said. “Perhaps a call should be made.”

Sanji eyed Judge warily as Judge pulled a den den mushi from his pocket. He dialed a number and the snail rang. It was picked up on the other end by a gruff voice, “Yeah?”

“This is Generalissimo Vinsmoke. Is everything in place?” Judge said. He held the den den mushi so Sanji could clearly hear what was being said. 

“Yes. We got someone on staff, a new dish boy. The Blue Guard is anchored nearby, ready to take out the Baratie on your word. We’ll stop by every few weeks, as requested, to make sure our man is still secure and ready to act.”

Sanji paled. Judge really did have someone in position to kill Zeff. An entire ship, in fact, ready to destroy the Baratie. 

“Thank you. I shall contact you regularly for updates.” Judge disconnected the call and tucked the den den mushi away. “As you heard, I have your supposed father as hostage. Should you fail to comply, I shall have him executed.”

Sanji’s stomach twisted nauseously. Judge wasn’t bluffing. He would kill Zeff in an instant. Sanji couldn’t – wouldn’t – allow that to happen. “What do you want?”

Judge gestured at Sanji. “Look at your wrists and ankles.”

Sanji lowered his gaze and saw heavy gold bracelets secured around both his wrists and ankles. His shoes had been taken. The bracelets were snug against his skin. “What is this?”

“Additional insurance.” Judge held up a small device with four buttons on it. “Modified Celestial Dragon slave bracelets. The bracelets have been fitted with explosives. Each of these buttons will detonate one of them. Further, the only way to remove the bracelets is with a key. They are set to self-detonate if tampered with.”

Horror coated Sanji’s throat. He tugged at the bracelets reflexively, wanting them off, not wanting it to be true. He heard a beeping noise indicating that Judge hadn’t been lying. 

“I have sold you to Revon of the Conglomerate. He is willing to pay top Beli for a Vinsmoke. You will do whatever you are told and your precious ‘father’ will remain unharmed.” Judge twisted the device in his hand. “Revon will be in possession of this device, should you become too unruly.”

Sanji was going to be sick. “You sold me?”

“You finally have a use.” Judge turned on his heel. “Follow me.”

Sanji dragged himself to his feet, his head pounding, his stomach threatening to spew. What had Judge done? What was Sanji going to do?

Judge led the way from the residence area to his study, where they were met by an older gentleman dressed in tailored trousers, a crisp white shirt, and a gold vest. A pocket watch hung from a chain attached to a button. The man had styled, short white hair, a white mustache, and a white goatee. He was average in size. A businessman, not a fighter. Revon of the Conglomerate. The man Judge had sold Sanji to.

“Vinsmoke,” the man said, casting an eye to Sanji. “Is this him?”

“Yes.” Judge motioned for Sanji forward. Sanji tread on heavy bare feet across the floor to the middle of the study. The study contained Judge’s desk, a massive fireplace, and another portrait that hid a safe. Revon stood in front of the unlit fireplace, studying Sanji critically. 

“Hm. I shall have to see if he is obedient.”

“Be my guest,” Judge said.

Revon snapped his fingers at Sanji. “On your knees in front of me.”

Sanji stiffened. He was not going to debase himself like that. He caught movement from the corner of his eye. Judge had taken out the den den mushi. A reminder of whose life was at stake if Sanji didn’t comply. 

Sanji straightened his shoulders, walked up to Revon, and dropped to his knees in front of the man. Revon stared down at him impassively. “Service me.”

Sanji’s brow furrowed slightly. Service him? What the hell did that… oh. Oh, fuck. Sanji was sold as a sex slave. He swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat. He clenched his fists, wanting to tear this man limb from limb, then destroy his so-called father. But he remembered Zeff and the rest of his crazy family on the Baratie, and he reached for Revon’s zipper.

Revon continued to watch as Sanji pulled his limp cock from his trousers. Sanji shoved down his revulsion, licked his lips, and took Revon into his mouth. He suckled Revon’s cock like he would any other guy, only this was anything but fun. He could feel Judge’s eyes burning into the back of his head. The humiliation and degradation he felt was all encompassing.

Revon shifted his hips back, pulling his cock from Sanji’s mouth. “Enough. He will do.” He tucked himself away. Sanji made to stand, but Revon told him sharply, “Don’t move.”

Sanji clenched his fists again, his face burning with shame. He imagined himself arching back into a handstand and kicking Revon’s head off his shoulders. He stayed on his knees. 

“The initial payment will be made today. I shall transfer further payment on a monthly basis, should the boy continue to be compliant,” Revon said to Judge.

“The terms are agreeable.” Judge walked over and handed Revon the device and a small key. “This will operate the explosives in his bracelets that I have previously spoken to you about. Use it at your discretion.”

“I shall.” Revon tucked the device and key into the pocket of his vest. He checked the time on his pocket watch. “I shall not tally any longer. Come, boy.”

Revon started walking from the study. Sanji climbed slowly to his feet to follow. He shot Judge a vicious, hateful sneer as he passed by his father. Judge spoke to Sanji one last time. “I will be in contact with the Blue Guard regularly. Do not disappoint me.”

Sanji spat at him. Judge didn’t wipe the spittle from his face as Sanji stalked from the room.

He followed Revon, bare foot, out of the castle, across the grounds, to the docking area located on the port side of the Germa nation. The Conglomerate was a massive shipping vessel, bigger than a galleon. It held four decks below the main and three aft decks above. Below deck housed the crew’s quarters, rec hall, bathroom, mess hall, navigation, infirmary, library, engineering, and stowage. Above deck, on the main level aft, were officers’ quarters, bathroom, and rec area. One floor up was the officer’s mess and meeting room. The captain’s quarters took the top. The helm was above the captain’s quarters.

The fully metal Conglomerate boasted five masts with six sails, three of which housed a crow’s nest at the top. At the front of the ship, a giant crane was attached to the deck. The majority of the ship was taken up by cargo stowage, which was accessed via the main deck opening. The ship staffed sixty-seven crew members, seven officers, and the captain. It ran on a traditional seven-Watch system, two on, three off, for all staff. About thirty staff were on duty at all times.

Sanji received the rundown on the ship’s specs and numbers as he followed Revon up two sets of steps to the captain’s quarters. Revon unlocked the door with a key. Sanji followed him inside, the door shutting behind him. 

The captain’s cabin was spacious. A double bed with a posted-headboard, bolted to the floor, sat in one corner, privacy curtains tied back. An inset night table and wardrobe stood beside it. A portion of the cabin was walled off for a private toilet and bath. The second half of the room was taken up by a massive desk and work cabinet. A swivel chair was anchored to the floor in front of the desk and a safe stood behind it. A bank of mullioned windows let in the sunlight. A secured sofa with a round table in front of it filled the remaining space. No artwork or personal items cluttered the room. An open ledger sat on the desk, as well as a box filled with memos. 

Revon flipped through the memos as he continued to speak to Sanji. “The Conglomerate is state of the art, with a vast amount of stowage space. This allows us to bring cargo to and from the shipping port to the various cash rich but product poor nations. I occasionally hold meetings on the ship with my buyers.”

Sanji kept his mouth shut, though inside he was fuming. He wanted to slam his foot into Revon’s face, escape the Conglomerate, and rain hell down upon Judge Vinsmoke. He wouldn’t, though, not with Zeff’s life on the line. He needed to bide his time until he could obtain a den den mushi and contact Zeff. The slave bracelets were another problem he’d have to deal with, but not until he knew Zeff and the others were safe. 

He cursed himself for his stupidity, waltzing into a trap like he could take on anything. In the note he left with Nami, he should’ve asked for help, should’ve told them to warn Zeff. But he’d been flippant, telling his nakama that he had to meet a woman. At least he’d written that he would return. The crew wouldn’t think that he’d abandoned them. And Nami, Brook, and Chopper were all safe. 

“As for you,” Revon said, setting his memos aside. “You are now property of the Conglomerate. I have bought you to service the entire crew. You will be provided with food and water, and will bathe and clean up after yourself daily during Morning Watch. Someone will supervise your shaving. You will not be permitted to roam the ship unescorted. You will address all members of the crew as Sir and are required to comply with anything the crew desires. They know not to harm you to the point that a visit to the infirmary is necessary. Failure to comply will result in punishment. I am paying your father on a monthly basis for your obedience.”

Sanji felt his stomach roil nauseously. His fingernails dug into his palms from his clenched fists.

“Now, strip.”

Sanji exhaled slowly and began to unbutton his shirt. Humiliation and disgust burned inside him. He draped his white shirt over the sofa before removing his trousers and boxers. He placed them neatly over his shirt. Naked, save for the gold slave bracelets on his wrists and ankles, he stood before Revon and fought the desire to launch the man into the stratosphere. 

Revon’s eyes raked over Sanji’s body, making his skin crawl. Revon pointed to the floor in front of him. “On your knees. Let us continue what you started.”

Sanji swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat, crossed the distance between them, and lowered himself to his knees. He waited a beat to see if Revon would take himself out of his trousers. He didn’t. Sanji undid the man’s zipper and pulled the soft cock free. He closed his eyes as he took Revon into his mouth and told himself not to bite it off. 

Sanji had plenty of experience with men. Back alleys, restrooms, random beds. He’d given and received blowjobs, fucked men and been fucked by them. He’d done the rough stuff. It had all been consensual, though. This was not.

Sanji suckled Revon into hardness and began bobbing his head. He used his hand at the base to stroke as he sucked. His lips formed a tight ring around Revon’s shaft and he used his tongue. The sooner Revon came, the sooner Sanji was done.

But Revon had other plans. “Enough. Go to the bed and bend over the side. I would like to sample the merchandise before the crew.”

Sanji pulled his mouth from Revon, rose, and went over to the bed. He ground his teeth as he bent over the edge. His chest and stomach rested on the soft duvet, his naked groin pressed against the side of the bed. He told himself repeatedly that this was to keep his Baratie family safe. It was only sex. It wouldn’t be fun, but he wouldn’t be traumatized by it. He could handle it until he could make his escape.

Revon came up behind Sanji, pressed the head of his saliva-dampened cock against Sanji’s hole, and breached him. Sanji shut his eyes tightly, wincing at the pain of the mostly-dry penetration. He kept silent, not wanting to give the bastard any satisfaction that he was getting to Sanji. It was only sex, Sanji repeated to himself. Not a big deal.

Revon fucked him like any other guy would, nothing weird or painful. Revon’s hands held Sanji’s hips and he thrust repeatedly. Sanji could feel the edges of Revon’s vest and the teeth of the zipper against his ass. Except for the lack of lube, it was normal. Unwanted, but normal. Sanji’s body adjusted to the intrusion and it became less painful. He’d had sex when they’d arrived in Zou, before the madness began, so it wasn’t too long ago that he was fucked. He focused on that encounter instead of this one, pretending Revon was someone else. He wouldn’t get hard, but it made the fact that he was being raped more bearable.

Revon finished with a grunt and Sanji could feel him pulsing inside. Sanji pressed his lips together in a thin line. He told himself that it hadn’t been that bad. So what if this disgusting man came in his ass? Many men had. He wasn’t a squeamish virgin. He was a healthy, young, bisexual male who had sex as often as he could, when the crew wasn’t busy overthrowing governments or taking down despots. 

Revon pulled free and stepped away from Sanji. He heard Revon fixing his clothes. Sanji remained where he was, his ass sore, his stomach sick. This was only temporary. He would make sure Zeff was safe and then he would make his escape. He could tolerate being a sex slave until then. He’d grown up being beaten almost daily by his brothers and locked in a dungeon for over six months with an iron mask on his head, by his own father. Then, he’d starved on a rock for eighty-five days. Being forced to have sex was nothing. 

“Stand up.” 

Sanji straightened and turned to Revon with hateful eyes. Revon did not care. “Follow.”

Revon led him to the door. Sanji spared a look at his clothing where it draped over the couch, but it appeared that was a luxury he wasn’t going to be allowed. He stepped out onto the narrow upper deck, sunshine beaming from the clear sky. He could see the gangplank had been retracted and the crew untying the lines from the Germa dock. The Conglomerate was about to set sail. 

Revon took him down to the main deck and immediately around the stairwell. Sanji was horrified when he saw a small cage built beneath the stairs. Inside was a pallet, a blanket and a bucket. Revon opened the cage door. “This is where you will stay while on the ship. The door is not locked, but if you are caught outside of it unescorted you will be punished. If I need to punish you repeatedly, I will sever the contract with your father. In.”

Sanji knew the threat wasn’t idle. He wasn’t worried about his own life, but severing the contract before Sanji could ensure Zeff’s safety would result in Zeff’s death. Judge was vindictive enough to do it even if Sanji were no longer alive. Sanji ducked down and entered the cage. It wasn’t tall enough to stand in, or wide enough to stretch out. He sat on the pallet. He could feel Revon’s cum leaking from his sore ass. 

Revon shut the door. “The crew shall be advised that you are now available. They haven’t had a service boy for three months, not since the last one threw himself overboard. Remember, you are to do anything they want. Food and water will be brought to you, and the bucket there is for your needs.” He took the device that operated the explosives in Sanji’s slave bracelets from his vest pocket. “I trust that I shall never need to use this, but I have no compunction against it. You do not require your limbs to perform your duties.”

The slave bracelets felt heavy against Sanji’s wrists and ankles. Losing his feet would suck, but losing his hands would be devastating. 

“Someone will be along to brand you as Conglomerate property momentarily.” With those ominous words, Revon took his leave. Sanji was left in a cage beneath the steps on the main deck, naked and enslaved. 

Sanji pressed his fingers to his eyes. He wished he’d palmed his cigarettes. He shifted uncomfortably on his sore ass. The reality of his situation was sinking in. Judge Vinsmoke had sold him into sexual slavery for a monthly payout. Sanji needed to cooperate in order to keep Zeff safe. There was nothing he could do but endure for now. 

The crew of the Conglomerate wore uniforms and the officers had stripes. One of the officers approached the cage carrying a red tipped branding iron in his hand. He opened the cage door. “Out. On your knees.”

Horror choked Sanji as he did as told. He was going to be branded. Revon hadn’t lied. Shit. He shut his eyes tightly as the officer raised the branding iron with the Conglomerate symbol, a stylized C hanging from a shipping hook. The officer grabbed his hair and the heated iron burned into the right side of his neck. Sanji couldn’t prevent the scream of pain as his skin sizzled. The acrid stench of burning flesh surrounded him. The officer held his head still and the brand against his skin for what seemed like hours. Then, he released Sanji, and Sanji slumped forward, tears of pain streaming down his cheeks. 

“Back in your cage, boy,” the officer told him. 

Sanji dragged himself back into the cage and put his back to the man. He heard the door shut behind him and footsteps on the metal deck walking away. Sanji folded over himself and fought against the deep agony radiating from his neck and the anguish of shame from being branded like property. He was going to remove Judge Vinsmoke from the face of the world once he was free. 

The ship began moving, drawing away from the Germa dock, setting out to sea. Sails were lowered and caught the wind. The crew of the Conglomerate moved through the rigging and on the deck, securing what needed to be secured. The clank of the anchor chain retracting resounded clearly. An hour later, a whistle blew. Change of Watch.

Sanji heard footsteps behind him a few minutes past the whistle. The pain from the brand had settled into numbness. The nerves had been severed. He knew what a third degree burn felt like, still bore the small scar on the side of his wrist. 

“So this is the new boy.” Sanji heard the cage door open. “Out with you. Let’s take a look at what the captain bought us.”

Sanji pulled himself together. He knew what was coming. He’d been advised of it. The sooner he complied, the sooner it ended. Keeping silent was imperative. He wouldn’t endanger anyone because he couldn’t keep his tongue. He crawled out of the cage and rose to his feet. His gaze flicked at the nine men standing in a semi-circle in front of him, all crewmembers, no officers. 

“He’s not as scrawny as the last boy,” one of the men said. “Maybe he’ll survive longer.”

“The bracelets are different. Wonder what they’re for?” another commented. 

“Don’t you recognize them? They’re Celestial Dragon slave bracelets. I’ve heard about them. They explode if the slave tries to escape.”

“Who cares? I haven’t fucked anything in three months. Let’s take him down to the rec hall. I call first with his ass.”

“Second!”

“I get his mouth.” 

The men commanded Sanji to follow, still debating on the order in which they got to use Sanji. Sanji ignored them in favor of taking in the layout of the ship. Instead of a ladder, there were switchback stairs through a door just inside the main deck officers’ hallway. Sanji was led down two levels, his bare feet feeling the raised anti-slip ridges on the metal stairs. The stairwell continued downward, but the men dovetailed off through an open entryway to the second deck below the main.

Sanji noted the doorways had pressure sealed doors propped open, in case of flooding. It would allow the ship to cut off submerged levels and possibly stay afloat or at least allow time for the crew to abandon ship. Sanji hadn’t seen any life boats secured to the sides, but it was possible there were launch hatches. 

The corridor for the crew level had metal walls and a metal floor. Sanji caught sight of the bunk room and the mess as he passed by open doorways. He was led to a rec room at the aft end of the ship. It was a large room, with metal tables and chairs, several sofas, a dart board, and a billiards table. A full service bar lined one wall. The walls were utilitarian. Sanji had a feeling he’d see this room often. 

The crew decided he’d best serve draped over a chair. The metal was cold against his chest. They spoke to and about him as if he were nothing but a toy. He wanted to skewer them with words over the disgust he felt, but he held his tongue. Sanji told himself, again, that it was only sex as they proceeded to spitroast him while the others watched and made crass comments. More off-duty crew showed up, to take their turn. He told himself that he was on a floating sex party barge and he was the main attraction. None of this could hurt him indefinitely.

Sanji kept those thoughts forefront in his mind over the next three weeks, as he was used nearly non-stop by seventy-four members of the crew. The three-month drought after the last boy had committed suicide had created a sex frenzy. Sanji’s mouth, throat, and ass were constantly sore and he couldn’t sit down properly. There was one crew member who liked to watch Sanji fuck himself with random objects, an officer who used him as a toilet, and a big guy from engineering that enjoyed choking Sanji into unconsciousness. Otherwise, it was in the mouth or up the ass, filling him repeatedly with cum. There were no women aboard the Conglomerate and the captain hadn’t used him again. 

Food was brought to Sanji in his cage three times a day, about three-quarters of the way through each Watch. The men would usually be done with him by then. Sanji had to eat with his hands, but the food was good. The chefs knew what they were doing. He drank water from a jug that was refilled twice a day and used the bucket when he needed. He was granted a half-hour to clean up after himself during Morning Watch under the bored supervision of a deckhand. 

Sanji had been lucky there’d been no storms and the climate had been relatively stable. He only had the blanket for coverage against the wind. The times he was able to see over the ship rail showed clear seas with no islands. He knew they’d stopped at one point, but he’d been down in the crew’s rec room. He had no idea when they’d stop again or where they were going.

He desperately missed his nakama. When he was stuck in the cage, he allowed himself to imagine the lengths they could be going through to find him. He imagined their antics on the ship and remembered the fun of being with them. He thought of their adventures and all the people they’d fought to give others their freedom. He hoped they were doing okay, that no one had been too badly hurt. He hated that he couldn’t be there to cook for them.

As time continued to wear on, Sanji stopped being a novelty toy. Halfway through the second month, he would only be used by seven or eight men after the change of Watch, rather than by a majority of them. The crew consisted of men of all ages, strong and strapping from active sailing life. Even the chefs were fit. An active sex life was unsurprising, especially given they had a readily available hole to fill. There were no devil’s fruit users on board, and Sanji hadn’t seen anyone wielding haki. Sanji weighed the odds regularly as to whether he could slaughter the entire ship before they took him out. 

Keeping silent was the most difficult part out of everything. Sex he could handle, even the fetishists. Sleeping outside in a cage, eating with his hands, using a bucket to piss and shit and only getting to clean it once a day, being naked all the time, none of it was hard. He’d not faced the humiliation of getting an erection while being fucked. But biting his tongue was an arduous task that he had to constantly perform. The litany of smackdowns that ran through his head every time someone took him out of his cage were epic, but he knew if he uttered any of them, it put Zeff at risk. Being silent was also a way for him to maintain control of his shitty situation. He would not break. 

Sanji’s goal remained to contact Zeff, ensure his safety, then make his escape. The slowdown in servicing had given Sanji the opportunity to plot how he could find a den den mushi. He knew there was a navigation room and also the meeting room. Those would be his best bet. He could try to slip away during the latter half of Middle Watch, when the crew might be least attentive. The cage door was never locked.

On the first morning of the third month, after the fetish officer used him as a toilet then fucked him while braced against the bowl, Sanji cautiously ventured from his cage, up the stairs, and into the second level above the deck. The other crew off duty had taken him immediately after the shift whistle. Unless someone wanted a late night fuck, he should be in the clear. There were still about thirty men on duty, running the Middle Watch. 

The metal corridor was lit by running lights. He hadn’t been on this deck level, but knew from the description Revon had given him of the ship when this nightmare had begun that this level housed the officers’ mess and meeting room. He peeked into the first doorway he came to, but the shadows made the room dark. He debated on switching on the light or going further into the room. He listened carefully. He only heard the creak of the metal ships over the waves.

Sanji decided to venture into the room. He used his observation haki to determine if anyone was there. It was empty. He held his hand out in front of him and found himself touching the back of a chair. He stood there for a moment, allowing his vision to adjust. It had to be a meeting room. A large table spread out before him, surrounded by chairs. 

As quickly as possible, Sanji moved around the room, searching for a den den mushi. But the room was empty of anything other than the table and chairs. Cursing silently, he left the meeting room and slipped back out the door to the main deck. He used his observation haki again to determine the location of those on the ship. Should he chance descending to the first deck below the main to search out the navigation room?

Sanji opted to go for it. He slipped through the door on the main deck and padded silently downstairs. He paused in the doorway to the first level to peer down the lighted hall. There were more men on this level, crewmembers and officers alike. He knew this floor housed the library, infirmary, and navigation. 

Cautiously, Sanji stole down the corridor. He paused at the first doorway and peeked inside the lit room. It was the library. Sanji could see two men seated at a table, playing chess. Another was in a winged chair reading a book. Books behind cage doors lined the room on all sides. Sanji’s eyes searched for a den den mushi, but didn’t see one. 

He continued down the corridor, moving as silently as possible. The next doorway, on the left, opened into the partially lit infirmary. A male nurse sat on duty at a desk near the door and Sanji had to duck back quickly when the nurse stood. Sanji activated his observation haki and saw the nurse moving further into the infirmary, which took up one half of the level, to check on patients lying in infirmary beds. Sanji dropped the haki and poked his head through the door again. His eyes searched the lit desk. There, on the desk near the lamp light, was a den den mushi.

Sanji moved fast, entering the room and snatching off the desk with a flutter of papers. He swiftly made his way upstairs and out onto the main deck. His footsteps were silent across the metal deck as he hurried back to his cage. He climbed inside, shutting the door behind him, and hid the den den mushi beneath the blanket. 

Pulse racing, he sat and waited for an alarm to raise. But when minutes passed and nothing happened, he began to relax. Success felt good. Now, he needed to contact the Baratie.

Sanji took one more look around using observation haki before curling beneath the blanket, pulling it over his head. He dialed the familiar number from memory and smothered the snail’s loud mouth when the other line rang. 

“Baratie, it’s late, what’d you want?” Carnie’s grumble came over the snail. Sanji winced at the loudness. 

“Keep your voice low and don’t tell anyone it’s the eggplant,” Sanji whispered into the mushi. 

“Eggplant!” Carne immediately shouted with glee. 

“Shh!” Sanji hissed. He knew the crew slept in the same bunkroom on the Baratie. Only Zeff had his own room. “Don’t fucking wake everyone up. This is an emergency. Give the mushi to the old man. Try not to let anyone see you.”

“Why the cloak and dagger?” Carne asked, even though he did lower his voice.

“Just get me to the old man.” 

Sanji waited with bated breath for Carne to traverse the distance from the crew quarters to the captain’s cabin. He heard the knock on the door and the annoyed grousing from Zeff. “Why the hell are you disturbing my sleep?”

“Eggplant,” Carne said. Sanji heard the mushi changing hands.

“Little eggplant? Why the late night call? Something wrong?” Zeff’s voice came over the line.

A wave of emotion came over Sanji. Shame, regret, love. He had to bite his lower lip a moment before he was able to speak. “Is anyone with you?”

“Carne, scram.” Sanji heard the cabin door shut and Zeff came back over the line. “What’s the situation?”

Sanji was relieved that Zeff immediately understood that something was wrong. “There’s someone on the Baratie who’s there to kill you. He’s posing as a dish boy. There’s also a ship, the Blue Guard. They’re set to destroy the place. Someone from the crew visits the restaurant regularly, to check up on their man.”

Zeff cursed. “Fuck, someone infiltrated my crew? The fucker. Don’t worry, little eggplant, I’ll handle this.”

Sanji felt like a weight had been lifted from his heart. Though Zeff wasn’t out of danger yet, the fact that he knew he was in it meant something could be done about it. “Be careful, you geezer. They’re likely skilled mercenaries. They won’t hesitate to attack if they find their man gone.”

“What, do you think I’m incompetent? Fuck off. I’ll take care of it. I’ll call you back when it’s done.”

“No!” Sanji’s voice rose and he quickly hushed himself again. “Don’t. I’ll call you in two weeks, around this same time. You can apprise me, then.”

“The Straw Hats don’t know you’re calling me?” Zeff sounded suspicious.

Sanji wasn’t about to tell Zeff that he’d been sold as a sex slave. “They do, but we’re about to hit a new island. It’ll likely lead to chaos, as usual. Best if I call you instead.”

“Alright. If that’s how you want it. I’ll wait for you to call.”

Sanji went quiet and he felt himself choking up. He loved Zeff and didn’t want anything to happen to him. He hoped by warning Zeff he’d done the right thing. “Take care, old man,” he said quickly and disconnected the call. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold onto the den den mushi. If it rang, he’d be caught. He had to get it back down to the infirmary.

Sanji sat up, checked his surroundings, and left the cage again. He slipped through the door on the main deck and returned downstairs. He used his observation haki to determine everyone’s position before darting down the corridor to the infirmary entrance. The nurse was not at his station. Sanji set the den den mushi on the desk where he’d found it and hurried to return to his cage.

In his rush, he neglected to check with his observation haki again and he ran smack into a crewmember coming up the stairs from the crew level. Sanji didn’t think, he immediately attacked, kicking the crewmember back down the stairs. The loud clatter drew attention and he heard voices behind him. Shit. He was screwed.

Sanji darted up the steps and out onto the main deck. He didn’t have any options. Diving overboard in the middle of the sea, with no islands in sight, was suicide. And there was nowhere for him to hide on the ship. He needed to give Zeff a chance to save himself and the Baratie. Fuck. There was only one thing he could do.

Sanji dropped to his knees outside of his cage, head hanging, waiting for the axe to fall. 

“I am rather disappointed,” Revon said, sitting at his desk in the captain’s cabin. He’d been awoken by the night officer on duty and Sanji brought before him. Sanji was on his knees again, the cold metal biting into his skin. Revon wore a dressing gown and his hair was somewhat mussed from sleep. “You had been obedient up to this point. I was about to make another payment to your father today. Perhaps I should end this arrangement instead.”

“No!” Sanji couldn’t let that happen. He needed to buy time for Zeff. “Don’t. I won’t do it again.”

“Hm. I had warned you of the consequences of being unescorted.” Revon templed his fingers beneath his chin. “It would be a pity to lose you so soon. The crew has been pleased with your services. Even old Bartholemew, who can hardly get it up any more, said you sucked him like a professional. You have missed your calling in life.”

Sanji felt his face heat. He had nothing against sex workers, but he didn’t want to be one. He was a chef currently without a kitchen to cook in. 

“I shall give you a choice: either I will remove one of your feet or I shall give you to the crew to punish you as they see fit. Either way, you will end up in the infirmary, but you will still continue your duties while you are convalescing.”

Fear slid down Sanji’s spine. The thought of losing his foot was not something he could fathom. He needed to remain whole, to rescue himself and to be a part of the Straw Hat crew. 

“What is your choice?” Revon said.

“The crew,” Sanji replied, hiding his dread. “I choose the crew.”

Revon nodded. “Very well. Before you are remanded to my officer, I will have you in my bed. I may as well enjoy myself since you so rudely woke me from a pleasant sleep.”

“Yes, Sir.” 

Revon stood. “In the bed, on your back, head at the headboard.”

Sanji got to his feet and did as told. The sheets were warm beneath him, from Revon sleeping in them. He hadn’t been used by Revon since he’d boarded. But it was just another cock, just another fuck. He stopped caring about it the second week, he’d been used so many times. 

Revon shed his dressing gown and laid it on the end of the bed. Nude, the older man was still fit and firm. “Pull your legs up,” he instructed Sanji.

Sanji pulled his knees to his chest, staring at the metal ceiling of the captain’s cabin. Revon climbed onto the bed, then took the cords from the privacy curtain and secured first one ankle, then the other, to the posts in the headboard. Sanji’s flexibility made the position easy to endure, though he hadn’t much occasion to stretch over the past month. 

He felt Revon’s erection probe his ass and shut his eyes. He tried not to think about what was going to happen to him once he’d been fucked. He knew the risk he’d taken with the den den mushi, but he’d gotten through to Zeff, and that was what mattered. He’d take the beating, knowing that Zeff was on his way to being safe as long as the old geezer could handle it. Sanji could only hope the mercenaries Judge had hired weren’t competent. Zeff could hold his own against a lot of rough types, but Sanji still worried. He’d find out in two weeks if Zeff was successful.

Revon fucked Sanji with little fanfare, despite the position on his back. Sanji felt the man orgasm within a short amount of time. He must not get laid often, Sanji mused with black humor. Revon left the bed, redonned his dressing gown, and untied Sanji. “Come.”

Sanji rose, his ass slightly sore from the dry fuck. He was used to it. He followed Revon to the door. Revon opened it and addressed the officer on duty, who had remained outside. “The crew may punish the boy for ten Watches. No permanent damage. Send him to the infirmary afterward. Let the medical staff know that he will be expected to perform in the infirmary while he is there.”

The officer assented. Revon gave Sanji a disappointed look. “This is your own doing. But every dog tries to escape its leash at least once.”

Fury rose up in Sanji over being called a dog. He fought it down before he ended up without a foot. The officer took control of him, leading him onto the main deck. There, he clamped a tight metal collar around Sanji’s neck, which was chained to one of the masts. The dread in the pit of Sanji’s stomach increased tenfold when he realized this collar had been hanging from the mast the entire time. This was not the first time someone suffered punishment at the hands of the crew.

The officer gave him a pitying look. “You have five minutes until I give the announcement. I’d say your prayers to whatever deity you believe in.”

The officer left Sanji alone on the deck. Sanji tested the strength of the chain. He could probably break it with a fire kick, but what good would it do him? He’d made his choice. He would see through it.

Five minutes later, the officer’s voice came over the ship’s speakers. “Attention Conglomerate officers and crew. The boy is on the main deck awaiting punishment. No permanent injuries. He will be there for ten Watches.”

Sanji leaned casually against the mast, wishing he had a smoke. Withdrawal had been painful. Luckily, he had all the fucking to distract him from it. He smiled humorlessly. 

The brute of an engineer who liked to choke was the first on the deck. He grinned maliciously at Sanji when he approached, carrying a large wrench. “I’ve been waiting for this day to come.”

“And I’ve been waiting for this day to tell you that you have a tiny cock and you fuck like child.”

The first blow was to Sanji’s face. The wrench crashed into his cheek, sending his head whipping sideways. Pain erupted in his cheek and jaw as they broke. The next blow to his head caused his ears to ring and for him to see stars. The engineer worked him over with the wrench, slamming it into him, breaking bones and damaging him internally. His ribs, left forearm, and clavicle were busted. Sanji did his best to protect his hands, curling them into fists, keeping them tucked by his neck. By the time the engineer stepped away, Sanji was in a heap on the ground, panting in agony. 

And he was only the start. For the next ten Watches, Sanji was kicked, whipped, beaten, and battered. His balls were crushed and cock mutilated. Most of his long bones were broken. His body was burned with cigarettes and Sanji would laugh at the irony of he wasn’t in excruciating pain. At one point, he was secured to the mast and used as a target for knife throwing. Someone fucked him up the ass with what felt like a canon. Blood pooled on the deck beneath him and when he’d finally passed out, he had six Watches to go.

He regained consciousness a week later in the infirmary. The ship’s doctor explained the extent of his injuries, but Sanji had stopped listening after the first few major surgeries. His entire body was encased in a plaster cast, save for his ass. Tubes ran beneath the casts: a feeding tube to his stomach, IV bags to arm veins, and a catheter. The doctor had casted him in a kneeling position and he was left on a pallet on the floor to service whomever wanted to fuck a heavily wounded man once his torn ass had healed. The crew was disturbingly interested in it. 

Sanji had a superior constitution, not as good as Zoro’s, but decent. As it was, he was immobilized for three weeks as his broken bones and insides healed. When he was cut free from the plaster, he was grateful to find that his hands remained relatively unscathed. It took another two weeks for him to feel fully himself again. He had many new stitch-scars and burn scars all over his body that might fade with time, but, as directed by Revon, nothing had been permanently damaged. 

Revon informed him that he’d paid Judge another month for Sanji’s service. That meant that Judge hadn’t sent his attack dogs at Zeff. Sanji had no idea if Zeff had succeeded in ridding himself of the Blue Guards, if Judge had sent more to take their place or if he even gave a shit once they were gone. As long as Judge was getting paid, he likely didn’t care. Sanji would have to explain to Zeff, once he knew Zeff was safe, the problems that might arise in the future because of Judge. 

Sanji felt a quiet terror that it wouldn't be the end. That Judge would send more attack dogs. That Sanji could be stuck as a sex slave forever. He sat with his back against his cage bars, shivering in the cold beneath the blankets. They’d sailed into a winter climate while he’d been in the infirmary. Snow floated from heavy clouds onto the deck. Sanji had been given two more blankets, one of them fur, but he was still to remain in the cage unless called upon. He hadn’t been given a guard, but he knew he was being watched more carefully. The den den mushi had disappeared from the desk in the infirmary, he’d seen once he was released. At some point, he would have to find another one. 

Another thought dawned on him, that Zeff might have called the Sunny when he didn’t hear from Sanji. The Straw Hats might now know that Zeff had received the call from Sanji, warning him about the danger. They would know Sanji’s disappearance would have something to do with it. If they cared.

No. Sanji refused to think that way. His nakama cared about him. He was the one who left and it would be up to him to return on his own. The Straw Hats had been gearing up to go against Kaidou along with their alliance. His leaving had placed a burden on them, but now they would know that it couldn’t be helped. He hoped they had succeeded with the raid and Kaidou was defeated. Sanji hadn’t heard any news and he hadn’t laid eyes on a newspaper since Zou. The Conglomerate’s staff kept their focus on shipping, not on pirate news.

The next few weeks settled back into routine. Sanji stayed silent, got fucked, and kept his eyes peeled for another den den mushi. He froze out on the deck in his cage until the Conglomerate finally sailed out of the winter climate and into a more temperate one. The days were generally sunny, but it still rained and there was an occasional snow shower. Sanji caught a glimpse of an island in the distance at one point, but it was too far to see clearly. 

When Sanji hit the fifth month, Revon brought him into the captain’s cabin, congratulated him on his obedience, and fucked him like it was a celebration. Sanji looked for a den den mushi while he was in the cabin. Revon noticed. “If you’re looking for a den den mushi, you will not find one. All den den mushis on the ship have been put under lock and key after your escapade.” 

Sanji’s face paled in dismay. Revon smiled cruelly. “Oh, yes, I figured out that the den den mushi had been your goal for descending to the second level. You will not have the opportunity to obtain another. Forget your past life. You belong to the Conglomerate until you kill yourself or I sever the arrangement with your father, at which time you will die.”

Sanji lost it then, not verbally but emotionally. Once he was back in his cage, he curled on his pallet, blankets over his head, and allowed himself to wallow in despair. He wouldn’t give Revon the satisfaction of crying, but at the moment his chances of escape were low. If he couldn’t confirm that Zeff was safe, he wouldn’t take a chance leaving. He’d have to remain the silent, obedient sex slave to a staff of seventy-five indefinitely.

The Conglomerate stopped at a supply port to load up on cargo, bound for a cash-rich, product-poor nation on the second half of the Grand Line. Sanji watched the main deck open and container after container being deposited in the hold by the cargo crane. It was the first time he’d seen it. He’d been in the infirmary during the last cargo run and the time before that he was being plowed non-stop by sex-starved men. It was interesting to watch, breaking up the monotony of his downtime. When he wasn’t being used, he was in his cage with nothing to do but sit or sleep. There was only so much sleeping he could do.

Sometimes, he’d kick his right heel against the cage and light his foot and calf on fire. He’d let it burn for a few seconds before extinguishing it. He’d done it off and on when they’d sailed through the winter climate, but he had to be careful not to get caught. He didn’t want them to know he was more powerful than they thought. His obedience was bought by his love, not because he was weak. 

Sanji tried not to think about the Straw Hat crew very often anymore. Doing so made him depressed. He’d hoped they had been successful against Kaidou and that they’d continued on to other adventures that took them closer to finding the One Piece. It had been over six months since he’d last seen them. He wondered about the cook they’d found to replace him. Was the cook male or female? Nami and Robin would likely have preferred to have another woman onboard. No one would be as good as Sanji in the kitchen, but he hoped the new cook was better than average. His recipes were all there, as well as the information on the crew’s nutritional needs. He’d scribbled tidbits of the crew’s personal likes and dislikes on the corners of recipe pages.

He played the what-if game on occasion. What if he’d left with Nami, Brook and Chopper when they’d been captured by Bege? What if he’d asked for help in his note? What if he’d succeeded in fighting Judge and had taken him down? What if there had really been a wedding? 

The last one amused him most. He pictured what his bride would look like. Sometimes it was a beautiful woman, sometimes it was a gorgeous man, even though the invitation had said daughter. Sanji was certain it would be love at first sight, and the sex would be fantastic. His bride would join the Straw Hat crew and they’d be as tough and strong as everyone else. Everyone would be jealous, especially that idiot mosshead who thought Sanji’s romantic nature was a waste of time. 

Sanji learned that the cargo was destined for the Red Port and Mary Geoise. He was going all the way back to the Red Line. If he knew Zeff was safe, he’d jump ship there and try to reach Fish-Man Island. He had many mermaid friends who would welcome him. And once he was free, he was going to be celebate for the rest of his life.

The Conglomerate reached the Red Port in the middle of the seventh month of Sanji’s enslavement. The heavy cargo made their sailing speed drop to barely six knots. They berthed at the shipping dock beneath the Red Port. The lights beneath Red Port allowed the crew to unload the cargo without difficulty. Sanji watched for a bit, but then he saw Revon along with ten other men and two women in sharp suits cross the gangplank onto the ship. They disappeared up the steps to the second level above deck. 

Two minutes later, an officer collected Sanji from his cage. He was escorted into the meeting room and directed to kneel in the corner. Seated around the large meeting table, the men and women glanced dispassionately at him at his entry. Mortification burned Sanji’s face. There were ladies present, seeing him naked and heavily scarred. The brand on his neck radiated discomfort. He knew immediately why he had been brought to the room, to service Revon’s business clients after the meeting was concluded.

Sanji didn’t know if he could do it. If the women wanted to use him, he might die of shame. He’d always gone after women with both affection and horndog thoughts. But to be seen as a sex toy and not a man gutted him. His eyes didn’t turn to hearts, his nose didn’t bleed. Humiliation choked him. 

The meeting was about payment and what should be brought in the next shipment and when. At the conclusion, Revon spoke. “Please, enjoy my hospitality by using our boy if you choose. I look forward to meeting with you all again in a year.”

Revon, one of the women, and two of the men left the meeting room. Six men and one woman remained. The men varied in age, but were all well-groomed. The woman was middle-aged and wore a skirt and blouse. In any other situation, Sanji would find her pretty.

“Ladies first,” one of the businessmen said. 

The woman inclined her head and snapped at Sanji. “Come here, boy.”

Sanji rose, keeping his eyes on the floor. His stomach churned. It was possible he was going to be sick.

The woman turned on her chair, away from the table, and spread her knees. Shadows hid her thighs in the loose skirt she wore. She pointed at the floor. “On your knees. Use your mouth to get me off.”

Sanji swallowed sickly, lowered himself to the floor, and ducked his head beneath her skirt. She had positioned herself on the edge of the chair. He could see she wasn’t wearing panties. The sight of her vaginia didn’t turn him on. The scent of womanhood was heavy. He closed his eyes and pressed his mouth against her. He heard her soft moan at the first flick of his tongue. He’d done this before, knew what to do. He sucked on her clit, rubbing it rapidly with his tongue. Her pubic hair pressed against his nose. His lower face was soaked with saliva and her juices. It was more work than with a guy, and his jaw grew stiff, his tongue tired. 

She grabbed the back of his head through her skirt, bucking her hips against his mouth, when she came. Sanji stilled his mouth, waiting for her permission to move. Any other time, any other place, any other circumstance, Sanji would be delighted to go down on a woman again and again. Now, he wanted the metal floor to open up and drop him down to the bottom of the ocean, to die.

After a moment, she patted his head. “Well done. I’ll tell Revon he chose well. Better than the last boy. Stand up.”

Face burning, Sanji pulled his head from beneath her skirt, rose, and stepped aside. She stood and smiled at the six remaining gentlemen in the room, who now wore blatantly horny expressions. “He’s all yours.”

She left. Half a beat later, the first businessman called him over. Sanji was on his knees again, blowing the man. But unlike with the woman, Sanji didn’t care. This was familiar. This was a normal part of his life now. His hands rested on the guy’s hips, mouth stretched, taking him in fully. His nose hit the man’s open trousers on every descent. The cockhead pushed down his throat. There was no ignominy to what he was doing, not anymore. 

The second businessman had Sanji ride him, and the third bent him over the table for a fuck. The fourth opted for Sanji’s mouth, and when Sanji opened the guy’s trousers, he felt a bulge in the left pocket. A flare of hope lit in Sanji. He took the guy’s erection into his mouth and slid his hands towards the man’s hips over his pockets. There was no mistaking the shape of a den den mushi.

Sanji went to town on the businessman, putting on a show, moaning and rubbing the guy to distract him as Sanji picked his pocket. Sanji managed to get the den den mushi free and flicked it beneath the large meeting table, out of sight. He finished the guy off and gave him a small smile as he patted the man’s softening cock after putting it away. The businessman was pleased, intending to give Revon his compliments.

Beneath the table, the den den mushi called to Sanji as businessman number five fucked him over the table. He didn’t know how long it would be before the owner would realize it was missing. Sanji thought about kicking the last guy into unconsciousness after number five was through, but the meeting door was open and he was certain to be heard.

So Sanji laid against the table as number five added to the load in his ass, then he stood anxiously waiting for businessman number six to state his desire. Businessman number five departed, leaving Sanji alone with the last one. He heard an officer walking in the corridor, going to the mess hall.

“On your back on the table,” number six directed. “Put your heels on the table and spread your knees.”

Sanji moved in front of the man, got on the table, and laid back. The ceiling lights glared in his eyes. He set his heels on the table, his bent knees spread apart. He wanted the guy to get on with it already.

“Masturbate for me.”

Sanji stilled. Fuck. In the more than seven months since he’d been on the Conglomerate, no one had ordered him to do that. He didn’t even know if he could get it up. Occasionally, he had wood when he awoke, but that was because he was male and not because he was aroused. The last time he’d jerked off had been before Zou. 

The den den mushi was directly beneath him. Sanji needed to do this. He closed his eyes, wrapped a hand around the scarred length of his cock, and began to stroke. Nothing was happening. His body did not want to do this. It did not want to get off on visual rape. 

Sanji took a deep breath and tried to relax. He could feel the businessman’s skeevy eyes on him. He kept stroking his cock, but it barely hardened from the stimulation. He tried stroking his balls, giving them a gentle tug. Still nothing. Sanji was going to have to dig deep to be able to comply. 

Eyes still shut, Sanji searched his mind for the fantasy that had always given him the greatest masturbatory orgasm in the past. He didn’t know whether to be grateful or not when a certain green-haired idiot swordsman appeared. He sent a mental apology to Zoro for involving him in rape before allowing himself to fall into fantasy.

Zoro and he were playfighting on the deck of the Sunny, as usual. But this time, Sanji won. His reward was Zoro. He stripped Zoro down and took him on the lawn where everyone could see them. He sucked and bit marks all over Zoro’s beautiful body, taking possession of his prize. He went down on Zoro, sucking his gorgeous cock until Zoro writhed. Then, he was pushing Zoro’s legs back, ankles on his shoulders, thrusting into him. He fucked Zoro on the deck lawn again and again and again until Zoro finally, finally, for the first time, called him by name…

Sanji came over his fist with a short shout of gratification, pumping semen onto his blond public hair. His throat closed as his breath caught. The momentary pleasure he felt at release crashed into misery when he heard the businessman’s voice. “Lovely.”

Sanji fought the tears stinging behind his closed eyelids as the businessman began to fuck him. He wanted to go home.

Number six seemed to take an agonizingly long time to finish. When he was finally through, he rubbed Sanji on the belly. “Good dog.”

Fury and humiliation burned in Sanji. He made himself lay there with his knees up, exposed to the open doorway, until the businessman left. 

Immediately, he jumped to his feet, dove under the table, and grabbed the den den mushi. He shoved it into his armpit, hiding it with his hand, pretending to be rubbing his shoulder. He hurried from the meeting room, out the door to the main deck, and down the stairs. The cum leaking from his ass was so common that he didn’t notice it anymore. 

The Conglomerate was getting ready to set sail again. Men worked on the deck and in the rigging, securing items and checking lines. Sanji ducked into his cage, pulling the door shut behind him. He sat with his back to the door and drew the blanket over his head. He didn’t know how much longer he had before the discovery of the missing den den mushi. The last businessman had taken too much time.

Sanji dialed the number to the Baratie and heard the line ring. Once, twice, three times, four…

“Baratie. What do you want?” Carne answered the call.

Sanji spoke quietly. “It’s the eggplant. Put the old man on, quick.” He could hear the door to the first level open and close behind him and tensed, but no one came to the cage. 

“Oh, shit, it’s you! Hey, it’s the eggplant!” Carne shouted. Sanji smothered the snail with his hand. “We’ve been waiting to hear from you.”

“Give me that.” Zeff’s voice came over the line. “Let me get to my office.”

Sanji heard voices and kitchen noises in the background. They disappeared abruptly. Zeff must’ve closed the door to his office. “Where the hell have you been?” Zeff roared over the line. 

Sanji had to smother the snail again and then hissed, “Shh! Keep your damned voice down.”

Zeff lowered his voice. “You still in trouble?”

Sanji didn’t answer that, instead turning it on him. “What about you? You get rid of that guy?”

“Of course I got rid of that guy and the Blue Guards. Told you not to worry about it.” 

Relief slammed into Sanji. “Thank fuck.”

“You would’ve known if you’d called like you said,” Zeff told him. “Funny thing, about the time you were supposed to call, another suspicious bunch shows up. We fed ‘em, then asked them what the hell was going on. Seems they were hired by some jackass named Vinsmoke to keep his kid in line. Funny thing, I don’t know anyone named Vinsmoke.”

Sanji felt like he’d been suckerpunched. The air whooshed from his body. Zeff found out he was a Vinsmoke.

“So after we kicked those clowns out of the East Blue, I sent out some feelers. Turns out, this Vinsmoke character is a Grade-A Asshole. Some sort of royal, bloodthirsty warmonger. Now, I think to myself, my kid’s so kindhearted, he captures fucking cockroaches and sets them free on other people’s ships. Makes sense that he’d run away, even if he’s a fucking prince of Germa.”

Sanji pulled the blanket tighter around him, anxiety and misery threatening to choke him. “Old man…”

“Then, you don’t call,” Zeff spoke over him. “But I wait, because you could be into something I don’t know about. A month later, another set of yahoos showed up spouting the same schtick. They’d been hired by Vinsmoke. This asshat has a fucking hard on for you, little eggplant.”

Sanji didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at Zeff’s words. “What happened?”

“Bought ‘em off. Told ‘em they could have free meals for life if they pretended they were doing their job for Vinsmoke. Made them guarantee they’d lie and say I was dead if necessary. If they renege, well, I’ll dispose of them like I did the last two.”

Hope bloomed in Sanji again. “So… you’re safe?”

“Told you not to fucking worry about that. But yeah, we’re safe.” Zeff yelled at whomever had knocked on the door to fuck off. “Listen, call your crew, okay? Last time I talked to them, they were beside themselves that you were gone, and that was almost three months ago. I don’t know what shit you got yourself into, but you can get out of it now and go the fuck back to the Sunny.”

Sanji’s eyes closed and the weight he’d been carrying for over seven months dropped from his shoulders. “I’ll do that.” Voices got louder behind him, outside his cage. “Gotta go.”

“Take care of yourself. And next time, don’t fucking worry about me.”

Sanji laughed as the cage door opened behind him and the blanket was yanked off his head. “Bye, old man.” He disconnected the call as he was grabbed by the hair and dragged from the cage. The den den mushi was snatched from his grip. 

“Told you he had it,” one of the officer’s said. The other officer, the one that had him by the hair, appeared annoyed. 

Sanji sneered at them both. “Took you long enough.” For once, he didn’t hold his tongue. Zeff was safe and, even if Judge ordered his execution, he’d still be safe. Sanji was finally free.

Revon appeared at the rail overhead, outside his cabin on the third deck above the main. He looked down at Sanji with disappointment. “Officer Jenkins, please return the den den mushi to its rightful owner. Officer Simmons, release him and step behind the door, if you would.”

Officer Jenkins gave his assent and walked away from Sanji toward the gangplank. Sanji’s hair was released and Officer Simmons went through the door that led to the officers’ quarters and the stairs to below deck. Sanji climbed to his feet, lifted his chin, and stared defiantly up at the Revon. There were still crew on the main deck, but no one close enough to reach him. He was going to kick Revon’s head off his shoulders and escape this fucking ship. 

But Revon lifted his hand and Sanji saw the device that controlled the explosives in his bracelets. “No!” he yelled, but it was too late. Revon depressed one of the buttons.

The bracelet around Sanji’s left ankle exploded. Sharp, excruciating pain slammed into him as his body was blown off his feet. He landed on the metal deck several feet away. Shock descended. His body went numb. He stared down at his missing foot and the ragged edge of his lower calf. Bone stuck out of the blackened and charred skin. Blood spurted onto the deck. His other foot and calf sported third degree burns. Dizziness and nausea overcame him. He vomited on his own chest, his eyes rolled back, and he passed out.

When Sanji regained consciousness, the Conglomerate had set sail and he was missing his left foot. He listened numbly as the doctor explained that he’d lobbed off the damaged portion of his leg to neaten it up before sewing him closed. A bandage wrapped around the stump beneath his knee. He looked like Zeff. Maybe he’d get a matching pegleg.

Sanji sat in the infirmary in a daze. He was hooked up to antibiotics. The burns on his other leg had been debrided and wrapped. He’d be permitted to leave the infirmary in a week. In the meantime, he’d be expected to continue with his duties as the ship’s boy.

The week passed with little going on in Sanji’s mind. The shock was too great. He’d never expected that he could actually lose his limb. The nurses arranged him on the infirmary bed to be easily accessible, on his stomach, with a pillow under his hips to lift his ass in the air. The staff who opted to use him bumped their legs against his bandaged wounds. The stinging pain it caused didn’t phase Sanji. He was too stupefied to care. 

The doctor released him back to his cage with instructions to the escorting officer for daily checkups. Sanji was off the antibiotics and on a crutch. Both legs were still bandaged. He hobbled after the officer, hopped awkwardly up the steps to the main deck, and outside. Getting into his cage required him to drop to one knee and drag himself inside. The officer propped the crutch outside the closed door.

Sanji and his lack of limb became popular with the staff. He was taken from his cage every Watch and used by more than half the men off duty. The object fetishist loved to fuck Sanji with the crutch. The engineer took pleasure in squeezing Sanji’s healing stump. 

Another week passed, and the Conglomerate sailed into a summer climate. The heat caused Sanji to sweat constantly and made it difficult to sleep. His wounds itched beneath the bandages. He could still feel his missing leg and it ached horribly. He shifted in the too-small cage on the pallet, bare thighs sticking together from sweat. When food was brought to him, he could hardly make himself eat. But he wouldn’t waste it, so he forced it down and tried not to vomit it up later.

Week three since lost his left foot began, and Revon brought him to the captain’s cabin. “You appear to be back to your obedient self. I will send another payment to your father. But know that I will take your left hand next if you get out of line again.”

That snapped Sanji out of his stupor. He couldn’t lose his hand. He’d do anything to protect them. “I won’t.”

“I am delighted to hear it. Now, be a good boy and suck me.”

Sanji used his crutch to round the desk as Revon turned in his chair. Sanji went to one knee. He couldn’t put any weight on the other leg, not yet. The scabs from his third-degree burns on his other legs pulled beneath the bandages. His fingers worked Revon’s zipper and he pulled the man’s hardening cock free. He bent over Revon’s lap immediately, taking the cock into his mouth. He suckled Revon into full hardness and then proceeded to give him head.

Eight months bled into nine months and then ten. Sanji’s wounds healed and the bandages were removed. Ugly scarring marred his right leg from the third degree burns. He thought it was funny, since he could light that foot and calf on fire and it didn’t hurt him. His left leg ended in a scarline beneath the knee. They didn’t give him a pegleg. He remained using his crutch.

The Conglomerate filled its cargo bay while Sanji was on his back in the officers’ rec room and it offloaded at another island while Sanji was on his knees in the library. The toilet fetisist made some friends and Sanji ended up in the water closet daily. The only thing that kept him going was knowing that Zeff was safe and the idea that at some point he could get his hands on that device or the bracelet key so he could escape.

Sanji didn’t know if the device or key were kept on Revon’s person or in the safe in the captain’s cabin. It didn’t make sense that Revon would carry it around, especially since Sanji had gone back to being obedient. The captain’s cabin door had a lock on it, though, and he didn’t know the combination to the safe. Even if he could get it, he would have to be either at an island or close enough to one to be able to escape.

At the start of every month, Revon would bring Sanji into the captain’s cabin to inform him of making another payment to Judge Vinsmoke before fucking him. Sanji memorized the layout of the cabin, in which pocket Revon kept his keys, and tried to determine if there was an alternate way to open the safe. 

As ten months became eleven, Sanji filched Revon’s keys from his vest and took them with him back to his cage. The small slave bracelet key wasn’t among them. Revon used him during First Watch and the man never left his cabin afterward. He likely went to sleep. Still, Sanji waited until near the end of Middle Watch, after he’d fulfilled his duties, to break into Revon’s cabin. It was three in the morning. The moon and stars were hidden behind heavy clouds. The air smelled like rain.

Sanji hobbled as quickly and quietly as possible up the two sets of stairs to the third deck above the main. His crutch sounded loud on the metal steps, making him wince every time. The men on duty didn’t appear to notice, however. Outside the door, Sanji tried three keys before the fourth one opened the lock. Very carefully, he opened the door.

The light in the captain’s cabin was extinguished. When Sanji cautiously stuck his head in, he could hear Revon snoring. He slipped into the cabin and shut the door behind him. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The windows along the back of the cabin filtered in the running lights from outside.

Sanji slowly traversed the room to where the safe stood behind the desk. He put the keys on the desk itself, careful not to let them clink. Revon would find them there in the morning and hopefully think nothing of it. They were in his locked cabin after all. 

Sanji examined the safe in front of him. It was tall, steel, and had a dial combination. It was doubtful Revon had the number written down anywhere. Sanji tried the handle, in case Revon was the type to leave it only appearing to be locked. It didn’t open. He tried to think of a combination of numbers that he may have overheard or seen. His mind drew a blank. Fuck.

Looking out the window, Sanji could see the wake the Conglomerate left as she sailed at twenty-five knots. The ship currently carried no load. An idea came to him, and he leaned around the safe to peer behind it. The safe stood on the metal floor of the cabin. The top of it was above the window line. He wondered if he could kick it out the window. It was solid steel, though, and he was missing a foot. He might not be able to get the height he needed with a mule kick. The metal walls of the Conglomerate were thick and the bones were Adam’s wood. He wouldn’t be able to kick the safe through them.

Sanji brought his hand up and dragged it over his face. It wasn’t going to work. He couldn’t get into the safe himself and he couldn’t send it into the sea. It left him with two options: anger Revon enough that he took the device out of the safe in Sanji’s presence and hope that he could get it from Revon before he detonated it, or jump overboard at the next island and hope that he could get far enough away before Revon detonated it.

Defeated for the moment, Sanji quietly slipped from the captain’s cabin and listened for the click of the auto-latch on the door. Then, he returned downstairs to his cage before anyone noticed he was missing.

It rained steadily for two weeks, starting with a squall that caused waves to lash over the main deck of the ship. Sanji had to cling to his cage to not get swept out to sea. He was drenched, freezing, and his bedding was soaked through. His hair, which hung well below his chin now, was plastered to his head. No one wanted to come out to get him once they were off duty. His food was thrown in a bag at his cage from the deck above. No one refilled his water and his bucket had long since overflowed. His skin had turned a sickly shade of blue by the time the rain stopped. He spent two days in the infirmary, and the following two weeks making up for the time he missed with the staff. 

“It’s been a year today,” Revon told him when he was brought to the captain’s cabin. “I am quite pleased that you have lasted this long. Buying a Vinsmoke was a good investment. As a reward, I will allow you to decide whether to suck me or be fucked.”

“How about I fuck you up, shithead?” 

Revon recoiled, and Sanji smirked. He shifted his weight onto his good leg so he’d be able to launch himself at Revon when the man retrieved the device from the safe. 

Revon straightened his posture and adjusted the lay of his vest. “I shall give you the benefit of retracting your statement. I understand that an anniversary of slavery can be a touchy subject.”

“I’m not retracting shit. I’ve kept my mouth shut for a fucking year and I’m not about to close it now,” Sanji told him, his voice hoarse and weak from disuse. “You’re a pathetic little man who needs to own a fuck boy to get laid. You couldn’t land a woman if you wanted to. In fact, you’re probably a virgin. Rape is the only way you’ve ever gotten any. You’re pitiful. I get more enjoyment being fucked by my crutch than you. I’d rather spend a solid month drinking and eating everyone’s piss and shit on this rustbucket than have to have your cock in me again.”

Revon’s lips thinned. Sanji expected him to go to the safe, but he didn’t. Instead, he picked up something that had been leaning against the desk out of Sanji’s sight. It looked similar to Nami’s clima-tact, but was longer and had a blunt end. Sanji stood his ground as Revon approached him with it. Maybe Revon was going to beat Sanji himself. It wasn’t what Sanji wanted, but he could put up with it and try again another day. 

Revon pressed the end of the object against Sanji’s stomach and said, “I warned you.” Then he pressed a button and Sanji was shocked by what felt like hundreds of volts of electricity. His eyes rolled back and he dropped instantly into unconsciousness.

Sanji swam back to consciousness to the unpleasantly familiar sounds of the infirmary. He pried open his eyelids. His body felt fried. Considering it had been, it wasn’t surprising. The male nurse stood at the end of his bed, making a note in a log. The nurse noticed he was awake. “He’s up, doctor.”

The doctor on staff walked over to where Sanji was propped in the last infirmary bed. “Good. It is within the timeframe to not cause concern for permanent brain damage.”

Sanji inhaled deeply and released a sigh. He didn’t bother to ask what happened. The doctor seemed to relish explaining his injuries in detail. He did want to know why he’d seemed to get off lightly. Maybe Revon had contacted Judge instead and severed the contract. But he wasn’t dead, he was in the infirmary, so that didn’t make sense.

The doctor checked his pupils, his pulse, and then listened to his heart. “I can detect no abnormalities.” The nurse wrote down what he said. “He can be released barring daily checkups for infection.”

The nurse nodded, made a note, and set the log aside. “And the other thing?”

“Ah, yes, I almost forgot.” The doctor left and returned with something on a tray. He set it on Sanji’s lap. “The captain said to inform you that your other foot is next.”

The world dropped out from beneath Sanji. The blood drained from his face. His eyes widened and he could no longer breathe. 

Sitting on the tray was a hand.

Sanji’s gaze slowly shifted from the hand on the tray to his left wrist. Bandages were wrapped around him and the bracelet was gone. So was his left hand. His wrist ended at a stump. 

Sanji vomited over the side of the bed, splattering the floor with the contents of his stomach. A keen rose unbidden from his throat and he thrashed on the bed, sending the tray with the hand flying. He tried to get up, tried to flee. The sheet tangled around his good leg and sent him sprawling onto the floor. He began clawing his way to the door. His eyes were wild. He still couldn’t breathe.

“Grab him.” 

Strong arms wrapped around him and lifted him from the floor. He kicked his good leg and flailed the damaged one. He headbutted the person holding him in the face. He was tossed over the infirmary bed face first and held down. He felt a prick on his ass, and then the world melted into darkness.

Sanji revived from the sedative slowly and found himself chained to a toilet in the crew’s water closet, held strapped uncomfortably to the bowl, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn’t move. Didn’t want to anyway. Defeat weighed him down. Zeff would be so disappointed in him. His mind touched upon the fact that his hand was now gone but skittered away again. He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to feel anymore. 

A deep, dark depression dragged him into the depths of numbness. Nothing mattered. He spent a month chained to the toilet, acting on automatic with a familiarity he shouldn’t have. Afterward, he remained in the infirmary for two weeks, hooked up to fluids, being monitored for infection, receiving proper food after a month of only eating shit and drinking piss. While he was there, at the turn of every Watch, a crew member would come and fuck him in the ass with his crutch. His words to Revon to rile him up came back to haunt him. 

Sanji was released to his cage and had to learn to use the crutch on the wrong side. It offset his balance and he was much slower to get around. He settled back into routine without any thought of protest or self-protection. The lies he told himself that it was only sex to survive being raped repeatedly became truth. It was no longer rape. He accepted that he was a sex toy made to be used by others. He belonged on his knees. 

Time slid past blankly. Sanji no longer knew how long he’d been on the Conglomerate. Revon had stopped taking him to the captain’s cabin on a monthly basis to crow. The toilet fetishists still used him daily, the engineer choked him into unconsciousness, and the object fetishist moved on to bigger and wider things. On his knees, on his back, spitroasted regularly, he simply existed to serve as a willing hole to be filled. 

During the in-between, Sanji sat in his cage with his back to the door, staring at the wall under the stairs. An industrious spider had built a web in the corner of his cage. He couldn’t be bothered to be scared. He ate mechanically, cleaned up after himself, and learned to function with only one hand. Depression shrouded every breath.

The Conglomerate returned to the Red Port and Sanji was taken for the business meeting. The women were present again, but Sanji didn’t care. A majority of the men were put off by Sanji’s double lack of limbs. One two remained after the meeting, as well as the same woman as the first time.

“I’ll take him last,” the woman told the other two. The men agreed, and Sanji sucked one off and was fucked by the other. Left alone with the woman, Sanji waited for her commands.

She stood and walked over to Sanji. She ran her finger along one of the scars that curved around his pectoral. “You’re much prettier than you were a year ago. And your hair is lovely now. I like the way it curls over your shoulders.” 

Sanji stood still and silent as her fingers combed through his hair. 

She stepped back and gave her orders. “On the table entirely. Lay out in the middle.” 

“Yes, Sir.”

She smiled. “I like a polite pet. You have been trained well.”

Sanji hobbled to the table, boosted himself onto it with a hop and the use of his crutch, and leaned the crutch against the side. He pushed himself backward with one hand and his heel until he was in the center of the large table before lying on his back. He stared at the ceiling dully. 

She climbed onto the table, lifted her skirt, and sat backwards on his face. “Use your mouth to get me off. And raise both your stumps.”

Sanji complied, licking along the seam of her vaginal lips, his nose buried against her opening. He found her clit, drawing it into his mouth, rubbing and flicking it with his tongue. He lifted his left arm and left leg and felt her grab both stumps with her hands. She rode his face, drenching him with her juices, while she caressed his stumps. “You’re fantastic at this,” she moaned, as Sanji worked her with his mouth. She climaxed with bucks and breathy gasps, grinding down on Sanji’s face.

She climbed off the table and fixed her skirt. Sanji lay exposed before her, left arm and left leg still raised. She ran her hand over the ends of both stumps again. “Perfectly deformed. I am going to request that Revon remove your other limbs and then sell you to me.”

The words penetrated through the depressed numbness to sink into his brain, as she left the room. She was going to have his other foot and hand removed. She was going to buy him as her own limbless sex toy. 

A laugh bubbled from Sanji, harsh and ugly. This was what he’d been reduced to: a scarred joke of a man whose only use was to sexually pleasure others. A woman wanted to take him home with her for that reason. Not because he was kind, not because he was brave or strong, not because he would treat her right. No, it was because he no longer had two limbs and she was a fetishist.

He was still lying on the table, his laugh having boiled over into hysteria, when an officer came into the room to investigate the noise. The nurse was called when Sanji didn’t respond to commands to stop and return to his cage. Sanji felt the sting of a sedative in his shoulder, and his hysterical laughter gave way to blackness. 

He woke in his cage, the crutch outside the door. He saw sunlight gleaming against the metal deck and felt the rock of the ship on the waves. The Conglomerate had left the Red Port while he was sedated. He checked his right hand and foot. Both were still present. The gold slave bracelets remained wrapped around his ankle and wrist. Relief washed away the numbness of the past several months. Depression still clung to him, but he felt like he could breathe again.

Sanji dove into his duties with more passion based on his respite. He would take being the boy on the Conglomerate over belonging to that woman. He would not lose his other leg or his hand. The staff noticed his enthusiasm and he had an uptick in users. He welcomed them all. He needed to please them, make himself indispensable. He would become the best boy they’d ever had. He was made to be used for sex and nothing else mattered. 

Every time he was with someone on the crew, he told himself that if he was a good boy, they wouldn’t hurt him. With each service he provided, he reinforced this thought. He was a good boy. The best boy. They wouldn’t hurt their best boy. He brought them pleasure, he did all that they wanted. He was integral to the crew. Without him, they would be lost. They would be sad. He hated when anyone was sad. He gave everything of himself to his men so they would be happy.

Revon addressed him one night. “I have had reports that you have not only been obedient, but have taken to your position with zeal. You were more resistant than the other boys, I give you that. But I am pleased that you have come to accept your role on this ship.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Revon picked up the electric prod by his desk. He studied Sanji with an assessing look, as if testing him. Sanji cast a glance at it, but wasn’t concerned. If Revon wanted to shock him unconscious again, Sanji would hold his arms out willingly.

Revon lifted the prod. Sanji didn’t flinch because there was no reason to do so. After another assessing look, Revon smiled with satisfaction and gestured to the bed with the prod. “Bend over the bed and present yourself, boy.”

“Yes, Sir.” Sanji used his crutch to move to the familiar bed. He put the crutch aside, laid his chest on the bed, his one foot on the floor. He pressed his forehead into the soft duvet, reached behind him, and pulled his asscheeks apart. He’d grown accustomed to using his left stump to properly expose himself.

“Hm. It looks like you have been used this Watch,” Revon said, moving behind Sanji. He ran the prod over Sanji’s hole. “You’re red and there’s dried cum around your hole and along your thighs. How many have enjoyed you this Watch?”

“Twelve, Sir.”

“And you satisfied them all?” Revon pushed the tip of the prod into Sanji’s hole. Sanji felt himself open easily for the object. 

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do you like it? Being our good dog?”

“Very much, Sir,” Sanji answered. He’d convinced himself that he loved every moment that he could service a shipmate, make them feel good, help them relax. 

Revon began to slowly fuck him with the prod. “And if I felt like chaining you to the mast and allowing the staff to beat you again, how would you feel?”

It was an easy answer. “Honored, Sir, if I brought enjoyment that way.”

Revon rubbed Sanji on the base of his spine. “Perfect.” The rod left Sanji’s hole and Revon set it on the bedside table. He shed his dressing gown. Nude, he slid into bed past Sanji and laid down on his back. “Come and ride me, boy.”

Sanji climbed onto the bed. He used his mouth on Revon to suck him into full hardness before shifting over his lap. His right knee pressed into the bed on one side of Revon, his left stump on the other. He held Revon’s erection upright and sank down on the saliva-slicked length. 

Bracing his right hand on Revon’s lower abdomen, his other arm hanging at his side, Sanji began to ride Revon as directed. He could feel Revon’s stiff cock sliding in and out of his hole, the familiar stretch and burn a comfort to Sanji now. He rose up and down, using the strength in his thighs to impale himself repeatedly on Revon’s cock. At Revon’s urging, Sanji sped up, bouncing more quickly, fucking himself with vigor. The older man climaxed with a hiss and Sanji felt him pulsing inside. 

Revon opened his eyes, which he’d shut during orgasm, and gave Sanji a pleased smile. “You are a very good boy.”

Sanji felt delighted by the compliment. “Thank you, Sir.” 

Revon patted Sanji on the stump. “Off you go. Back to your cage.”

“Yes, Sir.” Sanji shifted off Revon, picked up his crutch, and left the captain’s cabin. He went directly back to his cage, settled onto his blanket, and waited for the next man to call on him. 

The Conglomerate sailed between the shipping port and several islands to deliver cargo. Sanji became an expert at using his crutch on the wrong side. Although his phantom hand and leg still ached terribly from time to time, he became used to only having two functioning limbs. It was no longer difficult to clean his bucket or get up and down the stairs.

Months continued to pass. The climate changed back and forth as the ship sailed the Grand Line. By focusing exclusively on becoming the best boy day after day, Sanji’s mindset had completely changed. He left his cage when beckoned eagerly. He went down on the men like he’d spent his life with a cock in his mouth. He hungered for the taste of cum. He greedily ate what was gifted to him in the toilet daily. He spread his own asscheeks in invitation to fuck. He looked forward to every time he was used. 

Revon went back to using him regularly. One evening, he indicated that he had a surprise for Sanji. “I wanted you to know that I have bought you outright from Vinsmoke. You are now fully the property of the Conglomerate. Does that please you?”

Sanji smiled happily. “Yes, Sir. Very much, Sir.” The Conglomerate was where he belonged and now he never had to leave.

“Come over here and show me how much you appreciate it.”

Sanji hurried to his knees in front of Revon, where he sat in his desk chair. He unzipped Revon’s trousers and pulled his soft cock free. Sanji took Revon into his mouth and eagerly brought him to hardness. His head bobbed over Revon’s lap, taking him fully down, his nose pressing tickled by white pubic hair with every swallow. Revon patted his head. “Such a good dog.”

Sanji hummed happily. He continued to give Revon head, reveling in the familiar scent of musk, until Revon climaxed with a series of bucks into Sanji’s mouth. Sanji thirstily swallowed Revon’s cum until he was spent, then drew off and tucked him away. Pleased with himself, he knelt at Revon’s feet awaiting further instruction.

Revon also seemed pleased with him. “I purchased well. Perhaps you’d like another brand to celebrate the occasion?” 

“I would like that, Sir.” Then everyone would definitely know where Sanji’s belonged. 

Revon smiled darkly. “Then I shall order it. Go back to your cage and wait for the officer.”

“Yes, Sir.” Sanji rose, grabbed his crutch, and left the captain’s cabin. He returned to his cage to wait with anticipation. With a second brand, he would never be sold again.

Officer Lessinger came with the heated brand and opened the door to his cage. “Give me your foot, boy.”

Sanji leaned back and extended his right leg. Officer Lessinger set it on top of the open cage door, gripped Sanji’s ankle, and burned the Conglomerate’s brand into the sole of Sanji’s foot. Sanji’s scream of pain brought with it mental joy. Now, whenever he walked, he would be reminded that he was the ship’s best boy.

The Conglomerate sailed into a fall climate and then into a winter one. Chef Mollessin, who covered Sanji’s face with his long hair and called him a pretty little girl when he was used, gave him three extra blankets to keep him warm in his cage. He burrowed beneath six layers and felt cared for. He made certain, when it was his time to clean up, that his goatee was neatly trimmed and his long hair was washed and brushed. It fell in waves down to his chest. The men enjoyed pulling it when they fucked him. 

Sanji didn’t know how long he’d been aboard the Conglomerate. He’d stopped caring. This was where he belonged. When he was in-between services, he did sit ups and other exercises in his cage to keep himself looking good. His scars had faded to white lines everywhere on his body. He dreamed about being used when he slept and felt good about himself when he gave the men pleasure. 

The Conglomerate returned to the shipping port to load up on new cargo. Sanji watched idly as the giant containers were loaded into the ship. Nurse Carson was going off duty soon. He liked to take Sanji to the library to receive a long, leisurely blowjob while reading a book. Then, Officer Rumson and crewmember Porter would collect him and they’d use the couch officers’ rec hall to double-penetrate him, their hard cocks sliding against one another inside Sanji’s widely-stretched hole. Sanji believed they were in love and used Sanji as a way to have sex with each other without the secret being let out. It was very romantic. 

A new hire was brought on in one of the ports. He was a beefy man who joined the rigging crew. Sanji quickly learned that he wanted to tie Sanji up. Sanji encouraged him to do so, and Sanji spent time restrained or suspended in different positions in the crew’s rec room, like art. Being on display made him preen. 

When the ship hit another squall, Sanji sheltered beneath his six blankets and managed to stay dry. They sailed out of it into a summer climate. Sanji folded his blankets neatly and used them as a back rest. He tucked his right foot under his left stump, scratched his chin with his blunt wrist, and pretended he was in a sauna. He showered daily and the men didn’t mind a little sweat. 

The squall had caused one of the toilets to break on the crew level and Sanji was pressed into service for another month. He didn’t need to be chained down, grateful to perform a needed role for his men. A sawhorse was set up in the corridor, allowing the crew to fuck him over it in between. His water and a toothbrush were with him, to ensure he had a clean mouth for those who wanted to be sucked off instead. 

A few more weeks passed after the toilet was fixed, and Revon called Sanji into his cabin once again. Revon liked being ridden best, watching Sanji fuck himself and enjoying it. And Sanji did enjoy it. The feel of being stretched and filled, the pulse inside him when he’d satisfied a man to climax, the comforting wetness of cum as it leaked from him afterward. He provided a necessary service that kept the ship running smoothly and it made him happy to be the ship’s boy. 

Sanji slid up and down on Revon’s erection, his eyes closed, his mouth parted slightly. Revon’s hands caressed his hips and thighs. He brushed his fingers against Sanji’s balls and over his soft cock. Sanji stirred with interest. He rarely had an erection anymore. It wasn’t his place. But Revon gently toyed with him until he was rock hard and then urged to fuck himself faster. Sanji complied, his knife and burn-scarred hard-on smacking up and down against Revon’s lower belly. When Sanji slit open his eyes, he saw Revon staring at his cock with a hungry expression. It made Sanji want to come.

But Revon sucked in a sharp breath, closed his own eyes, and grabbed Sanji’s hips firmly. He held Sanji tight against his lap. Sanji felt Revon shoot inside of him. He felt pleased to bring Revon gratification. He remained still, using his ass muscles to milk Revon dry. Then, he waited for further direction.

Revon opened his eyes and glanced at Sanji’s hard cock. “You are very well broken. I may refuse to sell you when we reach the Red Port in two weeks.”

Sanji froze, his heart seizing. Revon must’ve seen his horrified expression, because he went on. “Oh yes. Rowena renewed her request that I sell you to her, after I have made further modifications to your body. She has upped her price. It is a very generous offer.”

Sanji’s body began to tremble uncontrollably as fear and panic set in. Revon patted his knee in a mockery of reassurance. “There, there. As I said, I may deny Rowena. You’ve behaved like an excellent boy since we were last at the Red Port two years ago, so willing and eager to be used. Continue as you enthusiastically have with the employees on this ship and it is likely I will keep you when we arrive at the Red Port. It is rather arduous to have to break in another boy.” Revon rubbed his fingertip over the head of Sanji’s cock. “Back to your cage.”

Sanji raised his hips, allowing Revon’s softened cock to slip free. He maneuvered himself off the bed and used his crutch to propel him to the door. Once outside, he leaned against the metal wall of the cabin and tried to catch his breath. His body still shook, and panic reached up and tried to choke him. 

Revon was going to sell him. He said he might change his mind, but would he? Revon had said he’d received a very generous offer. Sanji could act perfectly the next two weeks and still be sold to Rowena. After his other hand and foot had been removed. 

Sanji looked out over the dark sea. It was the middle of First Watch. The night sky twinkled with stars, the new moon hidden from sight. The door a deck below opened and closed, and Sanji heard footsteps going down the stairs to the main deck. He needed to get back to his cage before he was caught unescorted. 

He hurried down two flights of stairs to the main deck and practically dove into his cage. He wrapped an elbow around one leg, pressed his forehead against his bent knee, and tried to get his shaking under control. He rubbed the brand on the bottom of his foot, trying to soothe himself. Revon’s cum leaked out of his ass, joining the dried mess beneath him from his prior fucks of the Watch. He didn’t want to be sold to Rowena. He didn’t want to lose his other limbs. He didn’t want to leave the Conglomerate. 

What the fuck should he do? Become more vocal? Praise the officers for their prowess, beg the crew to use him more? He’d rarely spoken since he’d been sold, other than saying Yes, Sir or Thank you, Sir to anyone who wasn’t Revon. It wasn’t his place to speak. Words weren’t necessary for his duties. Would they tell Revon that they wanted to keep him if he did speak? Should he beg Revon instead, pleading to be kept as property of the Conglomerate? 

Sanji’s chest tightened painfully and it hurt to breathe. His body shook hard. He couldn’t focus. Fear and panic attacked him viciously. It seemed to last for hours. His mind spun around the words Don’t sell me to Rowena, don’t sell me to Rowena, don’t sell me to Rowena.

The attack eventually faded. Sanji felt drained, exhausted. He curled onto his side, pulling his blankets up over him. The cool breeze coming from the ocean soothed the sweat from his brow. The whistle blew, signaling the end of First Watch and the beginning of Middle Watch. Sanji was collected shortly afterward to service the men going off duty. He went at it as if it was his sole purpose in life to satisfy these men – which it already was – and thanked them profusely for using him. He wanted them to like him even more, wanted them to report to Revon that he should be kept, that selling him would be a mistake. The men needed their best boy. They would miss him too much if he were gone. He had to stay with the Conglomerate. It was where he belonged.

A week slipped by too quickly. Sanji thanked and praised everyone using him. He asked the toilet fetishists to keep feeding him. He told the engineer to do his worst. He begged the object fetishist to use two or three items at a time. By the end of the week, it became a game with the crew to see how many things they could cram into Sanji’s ass and Sanji thanked them and begged for more.

Revon brought him back to the captain’s cabin at the start of the second week. He never used Sanji so quickly and Sanji started panicking again. He dropped to the floor, forehead on the ground in dogeza, and pleaded desperately with Revon to be kept. “Please, Sir, I want to stay on the Conglomerate. I’ll be a good boy. The best boy. I promise, Sir. Please, don’t sell me. I don’t want to be sold.”

Revon merely laughed darkly and had Sanji ride him again.

Five days before the Conglomerate was to reach the Red Port, Nurse Johnston showed up during Forenoon Watch to take him from his cage. Complete terror and panic overwhelmed his mind. Sanji went ballistic, assuming Revon had decided to give him to Rowena. His adrenaline spiked him into fight of flight mode. He used his crutch for balance to kick his bare heel against the metal deck, lighting his right leg aflame. Then the crutch became his prop to send the nurse flying off the ship with a flaming kick. He leapt into the air in an awkward, hopping sky walk, the crutch clattering to the deck. The sea beckoned him. In the close distance, he could see an island of red mountains rising up from the ocean. 

Sanji fled as fast as he could, sky-hopping in the direction of the island. His breath wheezed, tears streamed unchecked from his eyes, a fist clamped around his heart even as it tried to burst from his chest. Sheer, uncontrolled panic propelled him onward. His mind was a white blanket of thoughtless terror. 

His right ankle bracelet suddenly exploded, knocking him from the sky. He plummeted at an angle into the cold ocean. Excruciating pain radiated through his body. Blackness threatened to overtake him. He struggled to surface. The agony knocked the runaway panic from his mind. He could think again, which was worse. He’d fled the Conglomerate. He’d abandoned the men who’d needed him. And now Revon was pissed. There was no way Sanji could go back. He needed to swim. He needed to get further away from the ship before his last precious hand was taken.

Sanji broke the surface of the rough sea gasping for breath. He immediately began swimming as fast as possible, kicking with two stumps, paddling his arms in a front crawl. The sun shined down upon the back of his head as he swam with all his might. The bracelet on his right wrist gleamed ominously when the sun hit it. 

The second explosion never came. Sanji had managed to escape the operational distance of the device. He couldn’t stop swimming, though. If he did, he’d fall into unconsciousness and drown. He trailed blood from the exploded stump of his right leg. Shock tried to take him out. The threat of being attacked by sharks was high. Keep swimming, Sanji told himself on repeat. Keep swimming.

The rough waves crashed him onto the red rock shore of whatever island Sanji had seen from the ship. He clawed himself further over the rocks, away from the ocean which could sweep him out to sea again. Before he collapsed into unconsciousness, he thought he heard voices. Then, darkness dropped over him and he knew no more.

The sound of children’s laughter roused Sanji back to consciousness. He slowly opened his eyes. Sunlight streamed through an open window, painting the white walls a cheery yellow. He was lying in a bed, a line attached from an IV bag to his arm. A sheet covered his legs. Around him, he could see various medical equipment. The children’s laughter floated to him again from outside.

He lifted his right arm, saw that his hand was still attached, the gold slave bracelet snug around his wrist. He flexed his fingers, curling them against his palm before extending them again. He used his hand to pull the sheet from his legs, propping himself up on his left elbow. He looked down at the bandaged stump of his right leg, below the knee. His legs matched now. 

Sanji dropped the sheet over his lap and sank back onto the pillow. He stared up at the ceiling, his mind piecing back together what had happened. He had fled the Conglomerate, making a mindless, panicked break to escape being sold to Rowena. The ankle bracelet had exploded, taking his right foot. Swimming for his life had allowed his right hand to survive. He’d made it to shore and that was the last he remembered before coming to in what appeared to be an infirmary. He wondered what island he was on, wondered if it were only a matter of time before the Conglomerate docked to pick up their property. 

He brought his right hand to his face and pressed his fingers against his eyes. It was possible that fleeing hadn’t accomplished anything. The ship had been close to the island. They simply needed to sail to the harbor and collect him. 

Sanji lowered his hand, resting it on his chest, and turned his head to the window. Outside, he could see soft, fluffy clouds floating across a blue sky. A tree waved to him. Red rock mountains painted the backdrop. The air smelled of the ocean with a metallic touch. A spring breeze ruffled Sanji’s hair. It had grown to mid-torso length and curled up at the ends. Another few months, and it would be as long as his mother’s had been.

Someone entered the room and Sanji glanced over. A woman in a doctor’s coat, wearing a stethoscope around her neck and carrying a clip log, had entered the room. Her dark hair was pulled up in a bun secured by colorful sticks. She had a heart-shaped face and a warm smile. “I see you’re awake. I’m glad.”

“Where am I, Sir?” Sanji murmured, his voice hoarse from disuse. 

“Risky Red Island.” She set her log on the edge of Sanji’s infirmary bed and put her hand on Sanji’s left wrist. She didn’t appear bothered by the stump as she looked at the watch on her wrist, taking his pulse. “You were found on the shore three days ago by some crab fishermen. You had almost bled out by the time you reached us. It is lucky that we have people on this island who share your rare blood type.”

She wrote something on the log before pulling the stethoscope from around her neck. “I’m Doctor Chokwa. I’m one of the three doctors on this island. You’re in the medical clinic. We saved what we could of your leg, amputating below the knee. You’re on antibiotics to fight any infection that may set in. The ocean contains nasty microbes and we wouldn’t want you to die after surviving that severe of an injury.”

Sanji didn’t comment as she listened to his heart. She told him to breathe a certain way, so she could listen to his lungs. He complied without hesitation. “What now, Sir?” he asked when she was done.

“Now, you rest and get well,” she answered, making another note on her log. 

“No, Sir. I mean with me.” Sanji lifted his hand and brushed his fingers over the brand on his neck. 

Chokwa studied him for a moment. “I believe our town mayor received a call about missing property and he told them that if anything showed up, the ship would be contacted. That ship left the area yesterday.”

Sanji didn’t know what that meant. “And, Sir?”

“That is up to you.” Chokwa pulled the sheet from his legs to check the bandage on his stump. Sanji was naked beneath the sheet, but was uncaring that she was seeing him. “Do you wish to return to your ship?”

It was on the tip of Sanji’s tongue to say yes. His brain told him that he needed to get back to his duties. Three days was long enough that several of them would be itching for Sanji’s services. His tastebuds reminded him that he hadn’t had his daily intake of cum, piss and shit. He still needed to take care of his own bucket. His ass suddenly felt empty. He needed to go back. The men on the Conglomerate missed him. But he wouldn’t be going back to them, would he? He would be sold.

Chokwa drew the sheet back over his legs and tilted her head in question. Her brown eyes were soft, patient. “It’s okay if you do,” she told him quietly, resting her hand on his left wrist. “But you don’t have to.”

“I…” Sanji found the words hard to get out. He looked down at her hand where it rested on his arm, near the stump where his left hand used to be. Rowena would be waiting for him. “I don’t want to go back, Sir.”

She squeezed his arm lightly. “Then no property ever washed ashore.”

Sanji’s heart began to race in his chest and his stomach churned. A discomfort took root in his chest. He began wheezing and his body started trembling. He suddenly felt like he was going to die.

“You’re having an anxiety attack,” Chokwa told him. “Look around you. Identify three things you can see.”

Sanji’s eyes darted back and forth. He could see the doctor. He could see the sheet. He could see the tree waving to him outside.

“Then sounds. What three things do you hear?”

Sanji heard the children laughing, the rustle of the breeze, the doctor’s voice.

“Finally, move three parts of your body.”

Sanji’s head jerked toward her. He lifted his hand and his newly bandaged leg stump. He still found it hard to breathe.

“Do it again, and then again. Pick different sights, different sounds, different movements.”

He looked at the IV in his arm, the side of the bed, the ceiling. He heard his heartbeat pounding, the sheet shift, the buzz of a fly. He moved his other leg, his left arm, and wiggled his nose. He was able to swallow and his chest loosened. He looked at the wall across from him, the scars on his chest, the sticks in the doctor’s hair. He heard one of the children shout, the distant waves of the ocean, footsteps outside the door. He lifted his eyebrows, drew in his stomach, and shifted on his ass. His heartbeat started slowing, his breathing became less labored.

“There we go,” Chokwa said calmly. “It’s fading. Now, I want you to count your breaths. Breathe in for four counts, hold it for seven, and exhale for eight counts.”

Sanji did as directed. He inhaled for a slow four counts, held his breath, and then released it even slower. He repeated it again and again until his stomach settled and his trembling stopped. 

Chokwa smiled softly. “Better?”

Sanji nodded. The feeling that he was going to die had dissipated. 

“Remember those two techniques. It’ll help you for when you have future anxiety attacks.” Chokwa picked up the log at the end of the bed and made a few notes. “We’re going to keep you under observation for another four days, to ensure that you are healing properly and have no infections. A staff member will bring you dinner in about an hour. Is there anything else I can get you before I go?”

“No, Sir.” 

Doctor Chokwa moved a cord that was attached to the wall closer to his shoulder. “If you need anything, pull this. Someone will come.” She rested her hand on his shoulder briefly, then left the room with her log. 

Sanji looked out the window, breathing with the counts again. He felt weak, untethered. There was a longing inside him to go back to the Conglomerate, to his cage. Revon had said it had been two years since they’d last been to the Red Port and Sanji’s memory provided that he’d been on the Conglomerate for seven months when he attended his first meeting and a year later for the second. Forty-three months in total. He was the ship’s boy for over three and a half years. 

Sanji drew a finger into his mouth and sucked on it. The position of the sun meant it was sometime during First Dog Watch. He’d been in the medical clinic for three days. That meant the mechanic who worked on the crane would be off duty. He enjoyed fucking Sanji’s face. What would he do without Sanji there?

Sanji let his hand fall back onto the bed. He hadn’t escaped to rescue himself from slavery, only to prevent himself from becoming Rowena’s fetish boy. He would have stayed on the Conglomerate indefinitely if Revon hadn’t mentioned the possibility of him being sold. But returning wasn’t an option any longer. He knew he couldn’t go back. He’d be given directly to Rowena, after Revon took his right hand. 

He didn’t know what to do now. He was a good boy. He might be able to find another ship who could use him. He’d have to get rid of his brand, though. The other one had blown off with his right foot. His fingers ran over the raised ridges of the shipping hook with the stylized C hanging from it on his neck. He’d seen this brand every day in the mirror when he shaved. It meant that he belonged. 

Sanji’s stomach growled faintly. He was hungry for both kinds of food. He rested his hand over his wrist stump on his stomach, closed his eyes, and pretended he was in his cage out at sea.

The four days Sanji spent in the medical clinic passed uneventfully. He had several anxiety attacks, but they would dissipate on their own if the technique he was given didn’t work. Doctor Chokwa agreed to remove his brand. The area would scar over in a patch, to join the other scars that littered his body from his punishment. The bracelet beeped in warning when he’d tried to take it off. He left it alone.

Once he was released, Sanji didn’t know where to go. The clothing they gave him felt uncomfortable on his body. He wanted to take them off. It was suggested he go to the mission on the island, but he wasn’t a religious person. He wheeled himself down the cobbled street, a glove on one hand, a sock on his stump. Using the chair was easy, as he’d kept himself fit to look good for his men. The town was a calm, quiet place, with polite, friendly locals who greeted the long-haired stranger in a wheelchair with a smile. It was a fishing and crabbing town and each home had their own garden for fruits and vegetables. 

Sanji bumped along the street, taking in the sights. He’d been on a ship for so long, surrounded by the same men, he’d forgotten what it was like to visit somewhere else. Mothers called after unruly children, ladies gathered in groups and giggled behind their hands. Men in clothing other than uniforms worked in shops and strode along the street.

Sanji noticed a series of wanted posters pasted to the outside wall of a fishmonger’s shop. He wheeled up to it, his eyes scanning the pictures. A smile came over his face when he saw Luffy’s name, though his picture looked odd, with white fluffy hair. Sanji could barely tell it was him. His bounty was astronomical. He found God Usopp, Brook, and Franky, all with high numbers. Robin was half-hidden behind someone named Yamato. He didn’t see Nami or Chopper. He finally located Zoro near the ground, his face scuffed with mud. Zoro would’ve hated being made fun of for that. Distant memories. Sanji hadn’t thought about his past life in a while.

A smell drifted on the breeze across his nose and Sanji turned away from the wall. It smelled like grilled fish being cooked with garlic. Sanji wheeled across the bumpy street, following the scent, until he reached a food stand. A man in a chef’s hat with a braided mustache worked behind the counter at the grill. 

A sudden longing came over Sanji. He wheeled closer to the stand. “Excuse me, Sir? Do you mind if I help out?”

The chef turned, glanced at Sanji in his wheelchair, missing both of his lower legs and his left hand. Sanji wore an oversized red t-shirt and blue shorts. He had a bandage on his right knee, and his left knee stump was clearly exposed. His long hair fell in waves around his shoulders and chest. 

“You have any experience?” the chef asked.

Sanji’s mouth turned up in a smile. “Years of it, though I may be rusty, Sir.”

A hair net came winging toward him. He caught it in his gloved hand. “Tuck your hair under that. I’ll let you man the grill, while I make up some more sides.”

Sanji did as told, winding his hair into a quick topknot before pulling on the hairnet. He wheeled to the wash basin to clean his hands first, tucking his glove and sock in his pocket, then moved behind the grill. The grill was low enough that he could reach it without having to raise up. Filets of red fish sat over the open flame. 

Neither of them spoke. Sanji’s nose told him when it was time to turn the filets. He set the tongs aside after turning and reached for the lemon wedge. He squirted it over the grill-lined surface of each filet. He did the same with the lime. The two citrus fruits would add flavor and the acidity would finish cooking the fish.

The chef plated the fish when they were finished, along with the sides, and put them in covered boxes. Within minutes, a woman appeared towing three children. She paid the chef with a smile and collected her take away. 

The chef pulled out a white fish from a closed bucket, slapped it on the prep counter, and offered Sanji a knife. “Think you can filet this one?”

“Yes, Sir.” The knife felt both odd and familiar in his hand. He used his stump to hold the fish steady and expertly fileted it. Memories flooded his brain. How many times had he’d done this in his past life? Three thousand? Five thousand? Standing in the kitchen of the Baratie, exchanging insults with the other chefs, plating dinners for the diners in the restaurant. Zeff stomping around on his pegleg, shouting at them to stop their yapping and work. 

“You got a place to stay tonight?” the chef asked, interrupting his thoughts. “I know you’re the stranger who washed up on shore.”

“No, Sir.” Sanji began to debone the remains of the fish. The bones could be used for other things. How many times had Zeff kicked him for throwing them away before he’d learned?

“I got a garden shed and a cot. Yours, if you want ‘em.” 

The kindness of this chef, who didn’t know him at all, made something crack inside Sanji. He remembered Zeff diving for him, rescuing him from death when the Orbit capsized. Zeff eating his own leg so that Sanji could have all the food. Zeff including Sanji when he’d bought the restaurant. Zeff taking care of him when he was down, training him to be a chef, teaching him about life and love, sharing his dream of finding the All Blue.

“I… thank you, Sir. I will take you up on the offer,” Sanji said, his voice choked. “Sir, is there any chance that you have a den den mushi?”

That night, after the food stand had closed, Sanji sat on the cot in the hastily emptied garden shed, his wheelchair in the open doorway. The mild temperature brought with it a light breeze from the ocean. Sanji had shed his clothes immediately. The den den mushi the chef had given him sat on the cot in front of him. 

Anxiety curled in his gut, making it churn. His body trembled. The den den mushi appeared to grow larger and more threatening. The discomfort in his chest made it hard to breathe. Who was going to answer? What was he going to say? Why did he want to do this? Maybe he could call the Conglomerate instead, find the number, and go back. Maybe Revon wouldn’t give him to Rowena. Maybe the loss of his other leg was enough. Maybe the crew would speak up, because he was the best boy they’d ever had. 

Sanji spiraled until his body felt like it was going to die. He folded over his lap, face buried in the crook of his arm, his long hair spilling around him. His wheezing breaths sounded loud in his ears. He shook for a long time, as everything fell in on him. But eventually, his body calmed on its own, his breathing slowed, the tightness in his chest eased. He sat up and brushed his hair back from his face. The den den mushi no longer appeared threatening.

Sanji picked up the snail before he changed his mind and dialed the Baratie. Zeff himself answered on the second ring. “Baratie, we’re closed. Call back tomorrow.”

Sanji pushed the words past his lips. “Sir. It’s me.”

“Baby eggplant!” Zeff exclaimed. “Fuck, it’s been forever. You don’t call, you don’t write. You forget your old man existed?”

Emotion threatened to overwhelm Sanji. He tried to keep it out of his voice. “I’m demoted to baby again, Sir?”

“Damned right, you are.” Zeff sounded like he was getting comfortable. “Tell me what the hell you’ve been up to. I trust you got out of whatever mess you got into because of that Vinsmoke asshole?”

Tears welled in Sanji’s eyes and overflowed onto his cheeks. After he’d lost his hand, he’d boxed up his old life and hidden it away deep in his mind to protect himself. Zeff, the Straw Hats, and the fact that the person who was supposed to be his father had sold him into slavery. His fingers rose to brush over the bandage on his neck, covering the wound where his brand had once been. He’d lost more than three and a half years of his life, but now… now he was free.

“I’m free,” Sanji whispered over the den den mushi as the words sunk in. He was finally free.

“That’s great, baby eggplant. What’s with the mushy tears, though? My snail looks like he needs a tissue.”

Sanji laughed hoarsely as the tears continued to fall. The sound was foreign to his ears. “I’ve missed you, Sir.”

“Pft. You always were an emotional nitwit.”

Sanji spent the next half-hour talking to Zeff about the Baratie, the crew, and the new dishes Zeff had tried out. His tears flowed the entire time. He mentioned nothing about his enslavement, his loss of limbs, his many scars. It was the most he’d spoken at one time in years and his voice eventually gave out.

“You sound tired, baby eggplant,” Zeff said. “I’ll let you go. It sounds like Patty and Carne are fucking around in my kitchen, anyway. They’d better not be stealing my cooking oil again.”

Sanji smiled softly at the thought of Patty and Carne being lovers. “Night, Sir.”

“That’s old man to you, baby eggplant,” Zeff told him, and then hung up.

Sanji dragged his hand over his wet face. His shoulders felt lighter. His heart felt full. He set the den den mushi on the floor and shifted to lay down on the cot. The cool breeze coming in through the open doorway wafted over his bare skin. His emotions had taken a toll on him. Exhaustion mingled with a sense of relief. He shut his eyes, listened to the sounds of the night birds calling, and drifted off to sleep.

That night, he dreamed of All Blue.

Morning came, and Sanji was permitted to use the bathroom in the chef’s house. He offered his body in return for the allowance. The chef turned him down. Sanji felt like a bad boy as he showered and shaved. He disposed of the bandages that had been around his right stump. The ugly red scar line still woven with stitches spanned his knee. He was going to have to learn to walk on stumps. At least they were even. He’d simply be short.

The chef didn’t open the food stand until lunch. He invited Sanji to help out again. Sanji readily agreed. If he couldn’t be a good boy for this man, he would still provide a service for his hospitality. Sanji wheeled himself back outside to the garden shed. He shifted himself back to the cot and dried his hair with the towel that had been around his waist. He had to use his fingers, as he didn’t have a comb.

The den den mushi was at the other end of the cot, waiting for him. 

With his hair brushed as best he could, Sanji stopped dithering and reached for the snail. All morning he’d debated with himself over whether or not to call. But his dreams of All Blue had lit a fire in his belly that he hadn’t felt in years. Anxiety tried to grab him, but he managed to beat it down. If there was any chance for him to find the All Blue, he needed to at least try. 

“Hello?”

Nami’s voice over the den den made Sanji’s heart seize. His words clogged in his throat.

“Who’s there? I swear, if this is another prank call–”

“It’s Sanji, Sir.”

“Sanji?” Nami whispered, and then she screamed, “SANJI!” 

The snail in Sanji’s hand began wailing and weeping uncontrollably. Sanji stared at it, not knowing what to do. 

Suddenly, the snail stopped wailing and a new, angry voice came over the line. “Who the fuck is this? Why did you make Nami cry?”

Zoro. Sanji licked his dry lips. “Sir… Marimo.”

The snail went silent. Sanji thought he’d been hung up on, but then another new voice came through. “Oof, you didn’t have to shove the den den at me so hard! Wait, are you crying? Why are you crying? You’re scaring me.” It was Usopp. Usopp began speaking into the snail. “Hello? Who’s this?”

It was beginning to feel easier to talk. “Sir, it’s Sanji.”

“Sanji? Sanji!” Usopp suddenly screamed, “IT’S SANJI! SANJI!” The snail started blubbering again. “You’re alive! Sanji, you’re alive!”

“Yes, Sir.” Sanji never thought that his old nakama might believe he had died. Then again, he hadn’t thought about them at all in years, until he’d seen their wanted posters on the fishmonger's shop. 

“SANJI!” Chopper’s wail abruptly came over the den den. “SANJI!” The snail sobbed uncontrollably. 

It must’ve passed hands, because the sobbing cut off. “Chopper-san, Zoro-san needs your assistance. I believe he’s hyperventilating,” Robin’s calm voice spoke through the snail. There was a pause. “You are the doctor.” A moment later, she was speaking to Sanji. “Sanji-san, is it truly you?”

“Yes, Sir.” Sanji felt his own tears start to well. He realized that he’d missed their voices. “It’s me, Sir.”

Robin paused again, a weighty one. “Are you safe?” she asked quietly. 

Sanji wasn’t sure what that meant, but he wasn’t in any danger. “Yes, Sir.” 

“Good.” She sounded relieved. “Do you know where you are?”

“Risky Red Island, Sir,” Sanji answered. 

“I am going to get Nami-san’s map. I’m giving you to Franky-san.” 

Sanji was left in silence for a second, and then Franky sobbed over the snail, “Sanji! Bro! It’s super that you’re alive!” The snail wailed with tears again. “We’ve missed you!”

The snail changed hands before Sanji could reply. “Yo-ho-ho, Sanji-san! I knew in my bones that you were still alive! And I should know, because I’m a skeleton!”

A small bubble of laughter spilled from Sanji’s lips. “It is good to hear a terrible skeleton joke, Sir.”

“Luffy-san is chewing on my arm. I’m giving you to him now,” Brook said. 

The snail changed hands again. “Sanji!” Luffy shouted at him with joy. “When are you coming back to make me meat?!”

The tears in Sanji’s eyes started coursing down his cheeks. Luffy’s words gave him hope, but he still had to ask. “Sir, do you think…” Sanji had to clear the knot in his throat and tried again. “Sir, do you think there might be room for me on the Sunny again? I’d make an excellent ship’s boy.”

Luffy’s reply was immediate. “Of course! I’ve been waiting for you to find us again, when we couldn’t find you.” The snail beamed widely at Sanji. “I knew you would come back.”

“You tried to find me, Sir?” The words came out small as a hand squeezed his heart.

“Yeah, of course we did! But when we got to Totto Land, no one had heard of you. There wasn’t even a wedding planned. We found out that Germa had been there, but they’d already left. We thought you’d gotten kidnapped,” Luffy explained, suddenly sounding serious. “We couldn’t do anything about it until after the raid. But after Kaidou’s defeat, we tried to find Germa. We heard from Zeff that you were in trouble. Did you know Germa moved on these giant snail things? They were so cool!”

The abrupt change in tone started Sanji. He’d forgotten Luffy could whiplash from gleeful to serious to gleeful again in an instant. 

“It took us a long time to find Germa. Like two years or something, because it moved around on those cool snail guys and we had to stop and help other people along the way. And then your Vinsmoke-pops tried to lie and said he didn’t have a son named Sanji. He got really pissed when we destroyed the kingdom! Shishishi! Oh, and I didn’t know you had brothers! They’re kinda dead now, though, um… sorry!”

Sanji hated his brothers as a child, so he didn’t care one way or another if they were dead. Luffy continued on. “Your Vinsmoke-pops finally told us that you were as good as dead once Zoro started chopping parts off of him. That’s how we knew you were still alive. But Vinsmoke-pops said he didn’t know where you were anymore and no amount of Zoro poking holes in him got him to say anything different. So Zoro cut off his head and I kicked it so far I didn’t even see where it landed!”

Revon had told Sanji that he’d severed the contract with Judge Vinsmoke. Sanji had happily received his second brand that night. Judge wouldn’t have known where Sanji was after that. The tricky bastard managed to get around torture by not lying. 

The news that Judge was dead should’ve made Sanji feel glad. Instead, he just felt numb about it. This was the man who was supposed to love him, but instead imprisoned him as a child and sold him into slavery as an adult. He hated the man, but a small part of him wondered if Judge would finally be proud that he excelled at something. He was a great ship’s boy.

“Oh, hey, Nami wants the phone. See you soon!” Luffy told Sanji, before his voice cut out.

“Sanji?” Nami’s tone was wobbly, on the verge of tears again. The small sniffed loudly. “Robin brought me the map. She said you’re on Risky Red Island?”

“Yes, Sir,” Sanji answered, wiping his tear-streaked face. 

“If the wind is in our favor, we can probably be there in about two weeks. We’ll have to make a stop near the Red Port to reset the tri–log pose, so that will add a day or two.” Nami paused and the snail began to cry. “I’m going to put you into debt for so long for making us worry like this!”

“I will make it up to you, Sir,” Sanji promised. He hadn’t been used by a woman since Rowena but Rowena had said he was fantastic at cunnilingus. 

“Good. Now, don’t move from that spot! If we get there and you’re gone, I’m going to be pissed!”

“Yes, Sir.” Sanji knew she meant to remain on the island, not stay sitting on the cot. He also didn’t have anywhere else to go, unless the Conglomerate showed up. Doctor Chokwa said that they wouldn’t. 

“Okay. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

The den den mushi call concluded on Chopper, Usopp, and Franky all wailing into the snail one last time before disconnecting. Sanji suddenly felt exhausted, but at the same time exhilarated. Luffy was allowing him to return to the Sunny! He was going to make his nakama feel so good that they’d never want him to leave. He didn’t know how he was going to be used by Brook, though. Did skeletons feel pleasure? Maybe Brook would just want to use his hands to fuck Sanji. Crewmember North liked to fist-fuck Sanji on a regular basis, so Sanji had experience with hands. 

Sanji lay back on the cot with a smile on his face, imagining all the ways he could be a good boy for his nakama. 

The days crawled by. Sanji helped the chef at the food stand, practiced walking on his stumps – even though the right one was still sore from its recent amputation – and exercised so he could look his best. Anxiety attacks plagued him in between, his thoughts spinning around the same things. What if he wasn’t good enough? What if they were disgusted by his stumps? What if they met Rowena at the Red Port and decided to give him to her instead?

During the worst of the attacks, Sanji would come out of them thinking that he should’ve let himself be given to Rowena, even if it meant losing his last limb. Sanji could take care of her right. He’d have to build his jaw and tongue muscles into better shape to please her regularly, but he could do that. Maybe she’d want to fuck one of his stumps. She had a fetish for them. He could picture her doing it. It wasn’t so bad. 

The chef didn’t want to use Sanji, but Sanji wanted to keep stretched and ready. He utilized the gardening tools, packing himself full at night with multiple handles. It reminded him of both his object fetishist and Officer Rumson and crewmember Porter. He hoped those two could continue their love with the next boy.

Depression poked at Sanji whenever he thought about the next boy on the Conglomerate. Even though he was grateful to be free from slavery, it still felt like that had been where he belonged. He missed the men terribly. He missed fulfilling his duties for them. If they wanted him back, and he was guaranteed not to be sold to Rowena, he would possibly go. 

But the dream of All Blue called to him again and he couldn’t reach it on the Conglomerate. He was going to be the Straw Hat ship’s boy instead. He couldn’t wait to be back on the Sunny, with his nakama. Once he found the All Blue, he could pass on its location to Zeff and Zeff could move the Baratie there. Sanji would then spend the rest of his days sailing on the Thousand Sunny, happy in the knowledge that he’d reached his dream. 

Word of a ship approaching the island bearing a jolly roger with a hat reached Sanji at the food stand after the lunch rush two and a half weeks after he’d made his call. The chef bade him to go, but said the cot would still be there if he needed it. Sanji thanked him profusely for his kindness before heading to the harbor, leaving the hair net and borrowed chef’s coat behind. Sanji brushed his fingers through his hair, making sure it fell nicely over his bare chest. The shorts he wore were uncomfortable and he couldn’t wait to take them off. Nudity wasn’t welcome in public on Risky Red Island, but once he was on the Sunny, he could be fully unclothed all the time again. He was looking forward to it.

When he saw the Sunny was nearly to the harbor, his heart started hammering in his chest. His hand felt clammy. He didn’t know if he should greet them from his borrowed wheelchair or standing on his own two stumps. The stitches had been out of his right leg for a week, the fresh scar still a vivid pink. The bandage on his neck was gone, as well, leaving a vivid pink blotch of healing skin where his brand had been. Sanji could stand, but it hurt if he did it for too long. He needed to build up the callouses on both knees. Something to work on while on the Sunny.

The Sunny got bigger. Curious onlookers had come to the docks. Sanji sat at the top of the long pier, abutting the shore, curling and uncurling his gloved hand around the wheel of his chair. Anxiety reared its ugly head and his breathing felt short. He looked at a pile of rope, looked at the people gathered, he looked at the sky. He heard the sound of conversation, of seagulls, and the creak of the dock. He moved his fingers, shifted on his chair, and tried to smile. 

His breathing started to calm. He looked at his shorts, looked at his stumps, looked at the clump of dirt clinging to the rim of his wheel. He heard a child’s cry, the soft wind in the trees, and–

“SANJI!”

Sanji raised his eyes as a rubber-man came flying from the lion figurehead before the Sunny had reached the dock. His heart caught in his throat and tears sprang into his eyes. He raised his hand and waved. “Here, Sir! I’m here!”

Luffy landed on the dock, causing the entire thing to lift briefly from the water. Then, he charged at Sanji, a familiar straw hat perched on his head, and flung his arms around Sanji, chair and all. “Sanji! I missed you!” Luffy wailed, soaking Sanji’s hair with his tears.

Sanji sat with his arms at his sides as the emotional dam burst. He started to sob, matching Luffy in intensity. After years of not seeing the Straw Hats, he was finally with them again. 

Suddenly, there were more people throwing themselves at him. Chopper, Usopp, Nami, Brook. They were hugging him and each other, crying and calling Sanji’s name, piling on and around Luffy. Franky came up behind the chair and lifted him, the chair, and the other five right off the ground in a bear hug. Franky’s wails of joy echoed off the red mountains. 

Sanji hiccoughed with his sobs, trying to get himself under control. His tear-blurred eyes could only see many colors of hair. The arms around him squeezed his breath away, but he didn’t care. Their hugs meant the world to him. He’d felt like he was finally free when he’d spoken with Zeff, but now he definitely knew it. He was with his nakama again. 

Franky put them down and Sanji was released one by one. Sanji swiped his sock-covered wrist over his face, scrubbing away the snot and tears. He heard his nakama babbling, one on top of the other, but he was too focused on trying to calm down to understand. “Your hair is so long!” “You’re going right to the infirmary for a full checkup, no arguments.” “Your scars are, uh, nice-ow!” “Robin said not to talk about any visible injuries.” “I want a turn in the chair!”

When he looked up, Robin was in front of him, with Zoro. “Sanji-san,” Robin bent forward and hugged him tightly. She smelled like lavender and cloves. Her voice was soft near his ear. “You’re safe now. You’re free.”

Past Robin’s shoulder, Zoro stared at Sanji with a pale face, his jaw clenched, his hands curled into tight fists. As Robin released Sanji, Zoro suddenly dropped to his knees and bowed his forehead to the deck in dogeza. “I do not deserve forgiveness, but know that I apologize from the bottom of my heart.”

Sanji didn’t know what to make of Zoro’s apology. Why would Zoro be apologizing to him? The others had fallen silent. Robin squeezed Sanji’s shoulder lightly. It prompted him to speak. “Okay, Sir.”

Zoro straightened up. Tears flowed freely down his face. He stood and scooped Sanji out of the chair with ease, as if Sanji weighed nothing. Sanji made a surprised sound and threw his right arm around Zoro’s neck. Zoro’s supporting hands were beneath his ass and around his back. A straw hat settled on his head and Luffy grinned at him. “Welcome back.”

Sanji could hear conversation outside the infirmary. Zoro had taken him directly there from the dock. The infirmary held an adjustable bed, medical cabinets, Chopper’s desk and a swivel chair. Above the bed were hooks to hang IV bags. The aft door porthole let in the afternoon sunlight. His wheelchair had been tucked into the corner at the end of the bed. The straw hat had been returned to Luffy.

Chopper had given Sanji a thorough examination. He noted down every scar, every burn, and asked about broken bones and internal injuries. He didn’t ask Sanji about his missing limbs. Sanji answered him honestly about his punishment. He needed to start being a good boy right away. Freedom meant he didn’t have to do anything, but he wanted to. He wanted to make himself useful, to help his nakama, to show them how much he loved them, and being their boy was the best way to do it. 

Once Chopper was done, he’d instructed Sanji to rest. Sanji complied, lying nakedly in the infirmary bed with a sheet over him. The partial anxiety attack, heavy emotions, and crying from earlier had exhausted him. Chopper had left, dimming the light, but the door to the galley hadn’t closed all the way. He could hear Chopper talking with some of the crew. 

“Except for the scar on his right knee and neck, the rest of his injuries are at least two years old or more. He’s in good health.”

“What about the slave bracelet on his wrist?” Robin asked.

“He stopped me from removing it, because it will explode if I do,” Chopper said. “I tested it, in case he was tricked. It beeped when I started to pull it down his wrist.”

“Did the others explode when he escaped?” Nami said.

“They are supposed to detonate if a slave leaves a certain domain,” Robin said. “But as Sanji-san is wearing one that is active and two of his limbs are well-healed, it is possible they are modified to act differently.”

“Sanji-san must be devastated about his hand,” Brook commented. 

“It is likely what… broke him,” Robin said quietly. 

The others in the galley fell silent. 

“I can make him a new hand. Legs, too,” Franky said. “I have artificial skin dye to match all of us, for this very reason. I still have his.”

“He has to want it, though,” Robin said. “You can offer, but don’t press.”

“So, what, we’re supposed to treat him like glass?” Zoro spoke up. “He’d hate that.”

“Zoro, weren’t you listening when Robin talked to us about this on the way here?” Nami sounded cross. “We don’t know what he’d like or hate anymore. It’s been more than three and a half years since we last saw him. We don’t know how long he's been a slave. Robin only recognized it from her own situation while we were all apart, before crossing the Red Line. We met other slaves, too, years ago. Many had been broken.”

“Then fix it,” Zoro said bluntly. “Chopper’s a doctor. He can fix anything.”

“Not this,” Robin said sadly. “He’s never going to be who he was, Zoro-san. We need to get to know and love the new Sanji-san.”

“He obviously remembers us,” Nami said. “That’s good, right?”

“I’ve read that sometimes people who suffer severe trauma or abuse separate themselves from their past,” Chopper said. “It’s a protection mechanism. He possibly remembers everything we’ve done together, but he’s detached himself. He may exhibit some of the old Sanji behaviors, or he may never. All we can do is be a safe space for him to be whoever he is now.”

“Do you think he still cooks?” Franky said. “It’ll be not super if he lost that, too.”

“I guess we shall see,” Robin said. 

The conversation trickled off, with the crew leaving the galley. Sanji turned over what he heard in his mind. He did remember everything he’d done with the Straw Hats, but those memories didn’t evoke any feelings other than a general love for the crew. He’d missed them desperately and he was ecstatic to be in their presence again. He wanted to reach his dream with them. He wanted to help them reach theirs. 

Franky knocked on the door from the galley and peeked his head in. “You awake, bro?”

“Yes, Sir.” Sanji sat up, pulling the sheet from his lap to be on display. 

Franky came into the room. His brow furrowed when he glanced over Sanji before meeting his gaze. “Wondered if you wanted me to make you a set of lower legs and feet. You can join the cyborg squad.” Franky posed. “We’re super!”

Sanji looked down at his leg stumps. It would make sense to accept. He would be able to move more swiftly and freely to perform his duties. “Yes, Sir. That would be helpful.”

“Awesome!” Franky clapped his hands together eagerly. “What about a new hand? I could add some gadgets to it. A firearm. Claws. Even cooking utensils.”

Sanji’s stomach churned. His chest tightened. Anxiety clawed at his throat. He tucked his left arm behind him. He didn’t want a new hand. He wanted his hand. But it was gone. He couldn’t get it back. His body started to tremble. He could hear himself begin to wheeze. He wanted to get out of the room. He wanted to run back to his cage and bury himself under the blankets. But he didn’t have a cage on the Sunny. 

“Oh, shit.” Franky suddenly left the room, shouting, “Chopper! Little help, bro!”

Sanji curled over himself, trying to breathe. He recognized that he was having an anxiety attack, but he couldn’t get himself to focus on Doctor Chokwa’s techniques. Chopper’s hurried steps came into the infirmary. “Sanji! What happened?”

Sanji couldn’t answer. He felt Chopper’s hoofs on him, checking him over. Chopper had a word with Franky, then he maneuvered Sanji into lying down and pulled the sheet over him. “Sanji, if you can hear me, try to focus on three things you can see.”

But Sanji was too into the attack to do anything. He had to ride it out. A sense of helplessness came over him. 

The attack lasted ten minutes before his body calmed on its own. When his breathing finally settled and the shaking stopped, he cursed himself silently. These attacks needed to stop. How was he going to be able to service the others if he kept having them? He hadn’t had any on the Conglomerate. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe it was because he wasn’t doing what he was meant to do. 

“Better?” Chopper asked him. Franky still hovered in the door. 

Sanji nodded. “Better, Sir.” He made himself sit up and fix his hair. He addressed Franky. “I’m sorry, Sir, for my attack. Please let me make it up to you. Would you like my mouth or my ass?”

Franky’s eyes widened. Chopper gasped. “Um… I’m good, bro. Thanks.”

Sanji turned his attention to Chopper. “And you, Sir? I am at your disposal.”

Chopper clapped his hooves over his mouth as he stared at Sanji in horror. “No!” he said from behind his hooves. “I don’t need anything!”

Rejected, Sanji tried to put on a happy face. “If you want to use me, Sirs, I’m here. I’m the ship’s new boy. I’m very good at it. You will not be disappointed.”

Chopper’s eyes welled with tears and he ran past Franky out of the room. Franky appeared awkward. “I’m gonna go start on those legs for you. Sorry I mentioned the hand.”

“Okay, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

Franky left quickly, and Sanji was again alone. He pressed his hand to his forehead. He hoped it went better with the others. If he couldn’t get anyone to use him, what good was he to the crew? They’d kick him off the ship again. A knife stabbed through his heart at the thought of it. He didn’t want to leave. He’d just gotten back. 

Chopper had told him to rest, but hadn’t restricted his movements. He didn’t need an escort anymore. He was free, wasn’t he? He could do what and go where he liked. And right now, he’d like to find out if he was going to have a useful place on this crew.

Sanji slid down from the infirmary bed to the floor. He winced at the sting to his newer stump, but pushed the pain aside. He found his balance on his blunt knees before walking over to his wheelchair. He pulled himself onto it, unlocked the wheel, and wheeled himself out the back door of the infirmary.

The ship was still docked at Risky Red harbor. The open ocean stretched behind the ship as far as Sanji could see. He wheeled around the aft balcony and headed for the slide that ran beside the steps to the main deck. A slide on a pirate ship would normally invoke confused questions, but Franky had modified the Sunny for the Straw Hat crew. Luffy and Chopper had used it often, and Sanji got to use it now.

He kept his hand on the wheel to control its descent. His glove and sock were in the pocket of his shorts, which were in the infirmary, so the wheel burned where it rubbed his palm. He rolled onto the main deck and into the lawn. The sight of the grass again after spending years looking at nothing but metal caused his eyes to sting. He looked up at the tree, full of lush leaves, an empty swing hanging from one of its branches. He pictured Chopper being pushed on the swing by Franky, with Usopp in the grass working on an invention. Robin and Nami would have the lounges out and be sunning themselves, or reading in the shade. Brook would be sitting with his back against the tree, playing his violin. Luffy and Zoro would be sprawled in the grass, asleep, snot bubbles extending and contracting from their noses. 

And Sanji… Sanji used to dance around them, offering drinks or snacks that he’d made with his own two hands. But Sanji only had one hand now, and a different purpose on the ship. He wasn’t the cook. He hadn’t met the new one, but they were bound to be somewhere. 

Shaking off the nostalgia, Sanji wheeled past the tree toward Brook, who had just exited the men’s quarters. “Sir!” Sanji called to him.

Brook met him with a “Yo-ho-ho! It does me good to see you on this deck again, even though I have no eyes. Because I’m a skeleton!”

Sanji smiled in spite of himself. “It’s good to be back, Sir.”

“Your clothing is in your locker. Everything has been washed,” Brook told him. “Though I do not mind nudity, Nami-san and Robin-san might not appreciate the view.”

“But you appreciate it, Sir,” Sanji surmised from his statement. “I’m available for use at any time, for whatever you want, Sir. I’m happy I get to be the ship’s boy, that there’s still a place for me here. I can’t wait to service the people I love.”

Brook’s top hat shifted on his afro when he tilted his head. “We love you, too, Sanji-san. But you do not need to service us. We are your nakama, not your masters.”

“I know that, Sir,” Sanji said. “But I want to. I want to be useful to the crew, to make you all feel good. However you want to use me, I’d very much enjoy it.”

“Very well, Sanji-san. I shall think on how best I can use you,” Brook told him. “I shall speak with the rest of the crew, as well. Sanji-san will not be let down.”

Relief made Sanji’s chest ease. He hadn’t been rejected. “Thank you, Sir. Would you like to use me now?”

Brook shook his head. “No, these bones have other things that need to be done. I shall seek you out later, how is that?”

Sanji smiled. “Yes, Sir.”

Brook rested a boney hand on Sanji’s shoulder. “I am very glad that you are with us again,” he said, before walking away.

Sanji took a deep breath, pleased that he’d be used at some point. Maybe the anxiety attacks would stop now that he felt more secure in his role on the ship. He glanced over at the twin curving steps that led up to the women’s quarters and the toilets tucked underneath. He wondered if he could fit a cage there. He could ask Franky to design one big enough so he could lay down flat. It was his choice now that he was free. He didn’t have to sleep curled in a cramped space any longer.

An unknown voice drifted to him from above. Sanji wheeled over to the steps and eyed them speculatively. He would have a hard time wheeling the chair up them. He set the wheel lock and slid from the seat to his knees. The stair treads were too high for him to walk up, so he sat on his rear and used his arms to shift him backwards up each step until he reached the helm deck. He shifted up onto his knees again, found his balance, and turned.

A massive Fish-Man stood at the helm, polishing the wood with a rag. Luffy was hanging upside down from the bench behind the helm, kicking his sandal-clad feet in the air. Sanji brushed his long hair over his shoulder as the breeze kicked up, causing the strands to tickle his nose. “Hello, Sirs,” he greeted.

“Sanji!” Luffy’s neck stretched up so he could peer over the back of the bench. “You can walk? That’s awesome! And it looks like fun. I’m gonna try it.”

Luffy flipped upright, knelt on the ground, and then pulled his heels up from behind him until they rested on his shoulders. He wobbled on his knees. “Whoa! It’s hard to balance.”

“Yes, Sir, it is,” Sanji said, affection pulling at his heart. It had been too long since he’d seen Luffy’s antics. “I came to see if you and, um…” he glanced at the Fish-Man, who was smiling at him serenely, “...this crewmate wanted to use me.”

“Sure! We can use you.” Luffy wobbled over to the Fish-Man. “This is Jinbe. He’s our helmsman.”

Jinbe inclined his head politely. “It is an honor to meet you, Sanji-san.”

Sanji had thought Jinbe looked familiar. “I remember you, Sir. We met you at Fish-Man Island.”

“Correct. I took the Captain’s offer to join your esteemed crew. I have sailed with the Sunny for over three years.”

Sanji remembered Luffy’s offer and Jinbe putting it off for various reasons. Over three years meant that Jinbe had joined sometime after Sanji had been sold. “How would you like to use me, Sirs?” Sanji addressed them both. “At the same time? I can kneel on that bench there, and one of you can use my mouth while the other uses my ass. Or would you prefer to double-penetrate me?”

Jinbe appeared confused and Luffy laughed. “Sanji! Are you offering us sex?”

“Yes, Sir.” Sanji felt confused, too. “I’m the ship’s boy, after all.”

“Shishishi. So that’s what it meant! I thought you wanted to be another boy on our ship, bringing our total back to eight.” Luffy performed a somersault with his ankles still clasped in his hands over his shoulders. He rolled up in front of Sanji. They were the same height like this. “If you want to have sex, we can have sex. Sex is fun! But I would prefer you made me meat! I’ve missed your cooking.”

Sanji’s brow furrowed. “You want me to cook, Sir?”

“Yes! You can do it now!” Luffy sprang to his feet and abruptly hoisted Sanji over his shoulder like a naked sack of potatoes. Sanji yelped in surprise. Luffy thundered down the steps to the main deck, grabbed Sanji’s wheelchair in his free hand as if it held no weight, and carried them both up to the galley.

The galley was exactly as Sanji remembered it. A large dining table with eight chairs bolted around it took up half the room. A couch ran along the wall between the main deck and the infirmary. Sconce lights hung above it. The den den mushi sat on a table at one end. A bar divided the dining area from the kitchen, with bar length seating along it.

The kitchen held a double-oven, a four-burner stovetop, a large refrigerator, and plenty of counter space. A prep counter ran along the back of the bar with a wash sink set into it. Latching cabinets rose above and below the counters. A dry food storage room was tucked behind the kitchen beside the infirmary. A service elevator stood by the door to the infirmary, to run food down to the Aquarium Bar.

Luffy dumped Sanji into his wheelchair and wheeled him excitedly into the kitchen. He grabbed an apron from the hook and dropped it over Sanji’s head. “What are you going to cook for me?” Luffy broke the lock on the refrigerator door. He pulled open the fridge. “We have plenty of meat. We stocked up two days before we got your call.”

Sanji’s head was spinning. He adjusted the apron over himself, pulling his hair free from the neck strap. “Won’t the cook be upset that I’m in their kitchen, Sir?”

“Shishishi! That’s funny!” Luffy started throwing various meats onto the prep counter. 

Sanji didn’t think it was funny. He knew how territorial chefs could be. He used to be one. “Sir, I think it would be better if we had sex instead.”

Luffy looked over his shoulder at Sanji. “But I want you to cook for me.”

Sanji was torn. He wanted to please his captain and his captain wanted him to cook. But he wasn’t the ship’s cook anymore, he was the ship’s boy. And this was another person’s kitchen now. His instinct to obey direction overrode his hesitation. “Okay, Sir. I will cook for you.”

“Wahoo!” Luffy did a little dance. “How can I help?”

“You can start by unwrapping two of the bigger roast packages, Sir. The one that reads pork roast and the one that reads ribeye roast. I can put them both in the oven at the same time.” Sanji wheeled in the tight space over to the oven. He turned the temperature dial to preheat the oven. The two meats cooked at the same temperature, however, each cooked for a different amount of time.

Luffy slapped the two unwrapped roasts onto the counter. “What’s next?”

“In the cabinet next to the stove, Sir, you might find salt, pepper, and pre-mixed roast spices,” Sanji said. He didn’t know if the new cook had rearranged the cabinets. He washed his hands in the sink. 

Luffy found all three and passed them to Sanji. The spice container was almost empty. There might be enough for both. He opened it and took a sniff. Still good. It smelled similar to his own recipe that he’d kept in his cooking journal. Sanji maneuvered himself close to the prep counter, which was low enough that he could reach from his chair. He gave both roasts a dry rub. “I’ll need the roasting pans, Sir. I had them in the cabinet beneath the stovetop.”

“Those are the really big ones, right?” Luffy asked, opening that cabinet. 

“Yes, Sir.” 

Luffy brought over the correct pans and set them down. Sanji indicated for him to put water in both of them, beneath the roasting trays. Sanji transferred the roasts to the pans. Then, he wheeled back over to the oven and opened the door. The oven racks were where they needed to be, to cook two large pans. He left the door open, wheeled back to the counter and set one of the roasting pans in his lap. He wheeled it to the oven and slid it on the bottom oven rack. He did the same with the second pan before closing the oven door. He set the timer for the first roast. 

“Is that it?” Luffy asked. “What about the rest of the meat?”

“Put it away, Sir,” Sanji instructed. “I can’t reach the stovetop in this chair and we’ve messed around enough in the cook’s kitchen.”

“Aw,” Luffy pouted. “I wanted lots of meat.”

“Sir, you will get lots of meat. There are two whole roasts in the oven.” Sanji was amused. 

Luffy pulled a face, but opened the fridge door and began putting the other packages of meat into it.

The galley door opened from the main deck and Zoro walked in carrying a large stack of take away boxes. Sanji recognized them from the place he’d helped out in town. Zoro didn’t appear to see Sanji, as his chair made him shorter than the bartop. “Luffy, Nami told you that if you broke the lock again you wouldn’t eat for a day,” Zoro said from behind the tall stack. “And Jinbe said we’re setting sail.”

“Ne, Sanji is cooking me meat!” Luffy beamed at Zoro. “I’m going to have two whole roasts.”

Zoro set the boxes on the dining table quickly and then he came closer to the bar. When he saw Sanji sitting there, his eyes widened slightly. “Are you cooking again?” His tone was surprisingly hopeful. 

“The captain requested that I cook for him, Sir,” Sanji replied. He eyed the take away boxes. “Am I interrupting dinner?”

“Huh?” Zoro glanced at the boxes. “Oh, no. My night. But we’re not eating for another few hours.”

Sanji’s brow furrowed. Why would Zoro bring back take away if they weren’t going to eat for hours? The food would be cold by then. Unless the new cook was going to reheat it. It would lose freshness. It seemed like a waste of Beli. But it wasn’t his kitchen anymore.

Luffy finished putting away the unused packages, shut the fridge door, and tried to push the lock back into its ripped hole. He banged on it with his fist until the door dented around it. “There. Fixed! Nami will never know.”

Zoro snored. “Nami will definitely know. She might forgive you, though, this time.” His eyes cut to Sanji and he frowned. “Are you only wearing that pink, frilly apron of yours?”

Sanji glanced down at himself. He hadn’t paid it much attention when Luffy had deposited it over his head. It was, indeed, his old bib apron, with the pink and white stripes and the ruffles at the bottom. He’d found it in his bag when he’d left the Baratie, a going away gift from Carne and Patty. “Yes, Sir.” He pulled the apron off over his head and laid it neatly on the arm of his wheelchair. He was fully naked to Zoro’s view. “Better, Sir?”

Zoro’s eyes had widened comically. “I didn’t mean that you should take it off!”

“Shishishi! Sanji said he’s the ship’s boy. The sex kind, not the boy on a ship kind.” Luffy grinned wickedly. “Ne, Zoro, wanna have sex with Sanji?”

Zoro sputtered.

Sanji spoke up. “I am available now, Sir, if you would like to fuck me. The first roast will be in the oven for an hour and forty minutes.”

Zoro turned bright red and fled from the galley. 

Luffy guffawed. “Did you see his face? He turned all red! Shishishi!”

Sanji was more concerned about the fact that Zoro was the second person who’d run from his presence when he’d offered himself. He was clean, he’d showered that morning. Could it be his stumps? Were they a turn-off for some in this crew?

“Ha! Well, Zoro’s never had sex before, so he wouldn’t know what to do anyway,” Luffy said. He went over to the oven and plastered his face against the window. “Is it done yet?”

Sanji was surprised by the information. Zoro was a virgin? It made more sense, then. Chopper was probably the same. That made him feel better. Brook and Luffy had both shown interest, though Brook had put him off. “While we’re waiting, did you want to use me, Sir?”

Luffy cocked his head, studying Sanji. After a few moments, he spoke. “Robin said you were a slave.”

A wave of shame washed over Sanji unexpectedly. He dropped his chin. The unremovable gold bracelet around his right wrist felt heavy. “Yes, Sir.”

“The whole time you were gone?”

Sanji’s throat tightened. “Yes, Sir.”

“The sex kind?” 

“Yes, Sir.”

Luffy came closer and crouched in front of Sanji’s chair. He folded his arms across Sanji’s bare thighs and rested his chin on the back of them. His hat was pushed back around his neck. Sanji couldn’t avoid his eyes without being rude. “Was it hard?” Luffy asked. There was a calmness to his voice that made it easier to answer his questions.

“At– at first,” Sanji stumbled over his words, shame swelling. “It was a big ship. There were a lot of men. But I got used to it. Better at it. I was the best boy they’d ever had. I– I miss them.” Sanji wrapped his arms around his middle. “I shouldn’t miss them, Sir, but I do.”

“Do you want to go back?” Luffy asked curiously. 

Sanji nodded even though he said, “No, Sir. I can’t go back. They’ll sell me to Rowena, who’s going to take my last hand from me. And I can’t lose my last hand. I can’t. I can’t.” Sanji could feel another anxiety attack start to take hold. 

Luffy snatched both his wrists, holding them tightly. “Look at me,” he commanded. Sanji focused on Luffy, as his body started to tremble. “You belong to the Straw Hats now. You belong on this ship. You’re a part of my crew. But you’re not our slave, Sanji, or our sex boy. You’re our nakama.”

Sanji’s budding anxiety attack turned into distressed tears. “I don’t think I know how to be that anymore,” he whispered painfully. “But I can be a very good boy.”

Luffy studied him again, before nodding slowly. “Okay, Sanji. But we get to decide what we want you to do and you have to do it. Captain’s orders.”

Sanji agreed readily, eagerly. “Anything, Sir. I’ll do anything.”

“Good.” Luffy grinned suddenly. “You can start by making a list of everything you did on that ship– what was it called, where you were held?”

“The Conglomerate, Sir.”

“Right. Them. Write it down, with a lot of detail. As much detail as you can remember.” Luffy ran a thumb against the stump of Sanji’s left wrist. “And put down how you got hurt, even this.”

Sanji used his right hand to wipe the tears from his face. “Yes, Sir.”

“Nami keeps paper in the table under the den den mushi. You can sit on the couch and write it there. I’m gonna keep an eye on my meat!” Luffy straightened and ruffled Sanji’s hair. “Write down if you like your hair like this, too.”

Sanji didn’t know why his hair mattered, but it was Luffy’s orders. “Yes, Sir.”

“Sanji is the best Sanji ever.” Luffy beamed at him, wheeled him out of the kitchen and over to the couch, then returned to the kitchen to sit cross-legged in front of the oven. 

Sanji shifted himself from the wheelchair to the couch near the den den mushi. He pulled out the latched top drawer and found a pad of paper and a sharpened pencil. He closed the drawer again, shoved the snail aside, and set the pad on the table. Luffy wanted him to write down everything that had happened to him. Sanji decided he should start with how he got sold.

Dinner prep was strange. After Luffy had eaten both roasts by himself, Zoro had returned to the galley, took the take away boxes, and began dumping the food onto plates. He then shoved them in the oven to reheat. He stood in the kitchen, his face red, not looking at Sanji, who was still seated on the couch, writing. Pages and pages had been filled since Luffy had given him the task. Sanji found the more wrote, the more detail he remembered, and he had to go back and add to prior pages. 

Seeing what he’d done in black and white was jarring. He found it difficult to believe he’d spent three and a half years doing all these acts – and loving them. He definitely loved doing them. He would love to keep doing almost all of them, too. Being choked out wasn’t that much fun, but the rest he was still eager to participate in. He couldn’t remember what caused the change. He knew he hadn’t liked it in the beginning. He’d thought of it as rape, even though he’d pretended he was at an ongoing sex party. 

The Sunny had set sail when Sanji had begun his task. He could feel the ship rocking beneath him. Luffy had sat and watched the roasts cook, eating the first one and then the second forty-five minutes later. Then, he’d gone off, leaving Sanji alone in the galley for a while, until Zoro had clomped in. Sanji had felt amusement when Zoro saw him sitting on the couch and turned bright red again. Zoro only fled to the kitchen to throw the take away in the oven. He was studiously ignoring Sanji. 

Sanji paused in his writing to flick a glance at Zoro. He had the sudden desire to tease Zoro. “I can give you a blowjob, Sir, while the food is reheating.”

It didn’t seem possible, but Zoro’s face grew redder. He stared up at the ceiling. “No.”

“I could ride your cock.”

Zoro made a strangled sound. “No!”

“Maybe you’d like to put a sword hilt up my hole?”

“No! Gah!” Zoro covered his face with his hands. “Stop saying things like that!”

A genuine grin spread across Sanji’s lips. “Like what, Sir? That I’m looking forward to tasting your cum?”

Zoro whimpered behind his hands. “Please, kill me.”

A laugh fell from Sanji’s lips. It felt good. “You’re too easy, marimo.”

Zoro suddenly lowered his hands. “Say it again.”

Sanji snorted, amused. “You’re too easy, marimo.”

While Zoro’s face was still red, his expression softened. “Yeah, that. All this ‘sir’ nonsense is annoying. I’m your damned marimo, remember? Your shitty swordsman. Or Zoro, if you’re feeling friendly.”

Sanji felt his amusement fall away. He hadn’t realized he’d been calling everyone Sir. It was automatic. He recalled saying Marimo over the snail when he’d contacted the Sunny, but had he called anyone else by name? Or Zeff? He didn’t believe so.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to make you sad or anything,” Zoro said.

Zoro was right, Sanji did feel sad. Sad that even though he knew he was free, he still acted enslaved. “Sorry, Sir. Marimo, Sir.” He couldn’t get himself to stop even when he was conscious of it.

“I can live with that one,” Zoro said hesitantly. “Marimo-sir. At least I know you’re talking to me and not… not your master.”

“I didn’t have a master,” Sanji said, staring at his notes on the table. “I was the ship’s boy.”

He heard Zoro take a fortifying breath before he spoke again. “I know what that means. I… almost was one, once.”

Sanji’s head shot up and he stared at Zoro over the bartop into the kitchen. “You, Sir?”

Zoro nodded slowly. “I was sixteen. Came across a pirate whose bounty was fairly high. Knew I’d be able to eat and drink for a while off it. But he was stronger than me… better than me. He tossed me in the brig of his ship and told me he was going to make me the ship’s boy. Explained what that meant when I asked.” Zoro’s lips curved in a smirk. “That’s when I learned how to do No Sword Style.”

“I couldn’t escape,” Sanji blurted. He needed Zoro to know it. Know that he wasn’t weak. “My father was holding Zeff hostage. I had to stay until I knew Zeff was safe, but then…” Sanji’s eyes drifted down to his left wrist, and his voice trailed into a shamed whisper, “I lost myself.”

“But you’re here now,” Zoro said. “You survived. I was afraid that you’d died, even after Vinsmoke indicated you might be still alive. We never heard a word from you. But Luffy insisted that you were strong. That you’d find your way back to us. And you did.” Zoro sounded choked up. “Now I feel even shittier for what I did.”

Sanji remembered Zoro apologizing to him on the dock. He hesitated before asking, “What did you do?”

“Told Luffy not to go after you,” Zoro said bluntly, but his tone was wrecked. “I’d thought you’d run off like an idiot to deal with nonsense when we were about to start a war. Pekoms mentioned that you were likely threatened, but that didn’t change my opinion. We didn’t have time for that shit, and that’s what I told Luffy. But he insisted that you’d need him and so he, Nami, Chopper, and Brook all went after you. But they didn’t find you. You were just… gone.”

“He sold me the same day I arrived in Totto Land,” Sanji said quietly. “There was nothing that could’ve been done.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re nakama. I should’ve gone after you, too. But I didn’t, and I can never apologize enough for that. Not after what you’ve been through.”

Even after writing everything down, Sanji didn’t think what he’d done had been bad, especially since he’d come to crave it. “I enjoyed it, Sir. The men appreciated everything I did for them.”

“Fuck.” Zoro jammed his fingertips against his eyes. “Broken or not, you are the bravest, strongest fucking man I’ve ever met.”

The shame Sanji had felt disappeared, to be replaced with a sense of pride and self-respect. “I am the best boy anyone’s ever had.”

“The best everything,” Zoro told him sincerely. He suddenly sniffed the air. “Shit!” 

Zoro yanked open the oven and used a nearby dish towel to start grabbing plates from inside. He quickly set them on the counter. Once the oven was closed again, he eyed the food. “Eh, it’s only a little burned. Nothing unusual.”

Sanji felt his hackles raise. “A little burned?” The crew was going to eat burned food? Where was the cook? Why was Zoro reheating food in the oven? 

Zoro shrugged. “Happens.” He started ferrying dishes over to the table. He glanced at Sanji on the couch and a fierce blush stained his face again. “Are you ever going to put on clothes?”

Sanji glanced down at his lap. His scarred cock and balls rested between his thighs. He had one scar mark that curved under a cigarette burn near the tip of his cock that looked like a smiling cyclops. “I’m used to being naked, Sir.”

“I told you enough with the ‘sir’ crap. Marimo-sir is all I’m willing to give you.” 

“Okay… Marimo-sir.” It felt weird on his tongue, but if it made Zoro happy, Sanji would call him that. “Maybe after dinner, Marimo-sir would like to have sex.”

“No!”

Sanji grinned. Being a free boy was fun. 

Zoro called everyone to dinner once the table was set with the reheated take away, utensils, and drinks. Sanji noted there were eight places set at the table and two at the bar. Ten crew members, instead of eight. Jinbe was one of the new members and the cook should be the other. Sanji was interested in meeting the person who had taken his old position. 

Everyone wandered in, in bunches. Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper seemed to be in a race as they burst through the door. Franky and Robin came together. Nami, Jinbe and Brook were next. They all greeted Sanji warmly. Sanji watched the door as the others took their place around the table. He saw that Franky and Jinbe took seats at the bar. That left one open at the table, once Zoro sat down. Sanji waited for the cook to arrive.

Zoro walked over to him and Sanji glanced up questioningly. Suddenly, he was being scooped up and deposited in the empty chair at the table. A napkin was dropped over his bare lap. Sanji blinked in shock, first at Zoro, then at everyone else. But they were ignoring him, already digging into their food, conversation flowing around the Sunny’s next destination.

“Mystoria Island sounds so cool!” Luffy exclaimed.

“Mystoria Island sounds like a place we want to avoid,” Usopp countered. 

“We don’t know much about it, that’s why I picked that destination,” Nami said, cutting into her fish filet. “Maybe we’ll find information on the last Road Poneglyph there. We haven’t had any luck anywhere else.”

“Going where Nami-san points us usually leads to excitement,” Brook said.

Usopp speared a green bean from his plate. “I don’t think my heart can survive any more excitement.”

Zoro shoveled food into his mouth as if he expected Luffy to grab it from him. “You’ll live.”

Robin, who was seated beside Sanji, leaned closer and lowered her voice. “It is all right to eat. You do not need to wait for permission, Sanji-san.”

Sanji looked down at the plate in front of him, and then at her in confusion. He whispered back. “But… the cook, Sir? Isn’t this their spot?”

Robin smiled enigmatically. “That’s why you are in it.”

Sanji didn’t know what that meant. Maybe the cook was sick and staying in their quarters? Or on watch? He also hadn’t eaten at an actual table with utensils in years. While he was staying with the chef on Risky Red Island, he took his meal in the garden shed and ate with his hands. He eyed the fork speculatively. He wondered if he still knew how to use it. 

Tentatively, he picked it up. His hand seemed to know how to grip it. He speared a green bean like Usopp had and took a bite. It tasted like slightly burnt, reheated food. It wasn’t too bad, because the chef on the island was a good cook. 

“Ne, Chopper, do you think there’ll be any ghosts on Mystoria Island?” Luffy asked.

Chopper gripped his hat. “Ghosts! Ahh! That’d be scary!”

“They might possess you and cause you to go on a murderous rampage,” Robin stated with a serene smile.

“Don’t say evil things so calmly!” Usopp yelled.

“Shishishi!”

“I should have Sanji’s legs done by the time we get there,” Franky said. He was sitting with his back to the bar, plate of food in hand. “If you want hair, though, that’ll take longer.”

Sanji realized Franky was addressing him. “Uh… no, Sir. That’s okay.”

Zoro pointed a fork rudely at Sanji. “No more Sirs!”

Sanji scowled at Zoro. “Marimo-sir’s got his panties in a bunch over what I say?”

Brook rested a hand under his chin. “Zoro-san, may I see your panties?”

Luffy guffawed. “Shishishi! Zoro wears panties!”

Zoro’s face went up in flames. “I’ll kill you all!”

“Zoro-kun, do they have ruffles or lace?” Nami smiled evilly at Zoro.

“Think he wears a matching bra?” Franky said. “His tits are big enough.”

“I don’t have tits!”

Nami cackled. Robin giggled behind her hand. Luffy stretched a hand out to grab at Zoro’s long coat, pulling it open. “I want to see his bra!”

Zoro stabbed Luffy’s hand with his fork. “Die!”

Jinbe laughed. “You are all hilarious.”

Sanji listened to the crew tease Zoro and then start teasing each other about undergarment preferences. Nami threw a shoe at Brook. Franky extolled the virtues of speedos. Sanji’s heart filled with a warmth that he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Ne, Sanji, did you finish that list?” Luffy asked, reaching a hand for the food still on Zoro’s plate. 

“Yes, Sir.” Sanij received a glare from Zoro, so he amended it. “Luffy-sir.”

“Okay. Brook mentioned that you talked to him, too. So me and the others are gonna talk about what we want you to do after dinner. You’re gonna take a bath while we talk. Franky’ll take you up there. Got it?”

Sanji nodded. “Yes, Luffy-sir.” 

“Good.” Luffy snatched a handful of roasted potatoes off Zoro’s plate. Zoro squawked. 

Robin touched Sanji lightly on the arm. “I left a hair tie on the edge of the tub, if you wish to put up your hair.”

Sanji smiled, touched. “Thank you, Robin-sir.” 

Dinner eventually ended with Zoro choking Luffy and Chopper screaming about injuries. Jinbe cleared the table and began washing dishes. Nami asked where Sanji put his list and Sanji pointed it out to her. Franky approached Sanji. “Ready for your lift?”

Sanji nodded. “Yes, Franky-sir.” He was looking forward to the bath. He only took showers on the Conglomerate. 

Franky picked him up, supporting him with one hand under his rear. He had Sanji hold on to his shoulders. They headed out the back of the infirmary to the ladder hatch and up past the library to the bathroom. 

The bathroom was divided in half by a wall, with the water closet, changing area, and cleaning supplies on one half and the bath on the other. The bath held a shower with a bench along the wall behind it, bubble-themed tiles on the floor, and an onsen-style tub that seated many. A mullion window nestled into the round wall above the tub.

Franky helped Sanji rinse off in the shower before moving him gently into the tub. Sanji kept a hold on the twist of his hair until he was able to secure it with the tie. 

“You good, bro?” Franky asked.

Sanji settled against the side, the warm, bubbling water already soaking into his bones. “Yes, Franky-sir. Thank you.”

“Okay. I’ll be back to get you when Luffy says.” 

Franky departed, closing the bathroom door behind him, leaving Sanji in privacy. Sanji hadn’t had privacy like this since he’d last been on the Sunny. He used the bathroom at the chef’s house on Risky Red Island, but the chef had been in the other room. Sanji was completely alone in Sunny’s bathroom, with Franky and everyone else in the galley. 

Sanji looked out the window at the dark sky. The ship rocked gently on the waves. He tried to relax and not think about the others discussing him. It was their prerogative to decide how Sanji would be best used by them. Sanji would do what they told him. He was a good boy. 

He scooted down on the bench seat that ran around the length of the tub and let his body float upward. His arms were stretched along the rim of the tub. He could see his stumps in the moonlight. Soon, he’d have new lower legs and feet. It would be as if he never lost them, even though he knew they were gone. Destroyed by a small explosive triggered by Revon, but put on him by his own flesh and blood. He could forgive Revon. Sanji was being bad and Revon was in his right. But Sanji could never forgive Judge. He was only sorry that he hadn’t killed the bastard himself. 

The heated water cocooned him in comfort. He floated for a while, watching the play of bubbles across the surface of his skin. His skin was a myriad of white scar lines and faded burn marks. He had a few on his face, but none on his right hand. He’d managed to protect it during his punishment. 

Sanji shied away from thinking about his left hand and instead let himself drift into picturing the services he was going to provide for his nakama. He didn’t know what they were going to decide, but he imagined getting to love them all the best way he knew how. He could give them anything they wanted. He’d finally gotten a start today, with Luffy giving him orders. Maybe tonight they would all take him as a family. Sanji’s heart sung with the thought.

He didn’t know how long he was in the bath, though his fingers had pruned. Franky returned and he helped Sanji dry off before carrying him back down to the galley. Sanji left his hair up in the tie. 

Franky settled him in the same seat he’d had at dinner. The air in the galley was heavy. Sanji glanced between everyone’s downturned faces. It appeared all of them had been crying. He wondered why. 

Franky leaned against the side of the bar, crossing his arms. Luffy stood up at the head of the table. His expression was serious. “Sanji, we have discussed what we want you to do. Remember, you have to abide by what we say. Captain’s orders.”

“I remember, Luffy-sir.” Sanji felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach. He gripped his opposite wrist beneath the table. 

“Good.” Luffy pointed at the list Sanji had written, stacked in front of him on the table. “From now on, you are forbidden to do anything on this list without explicit permission from me or Robin.”

Sanji was stunned. This was not what he’d expected at all. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” Luffy stated firmly. “You are also not allowed to ask any of us if we want to use you for sex. We will tell you if we do, but then you have to get permission from me or Robin to do it.”

Sanji’s mind was reeling. Luffy went on. “If you get to a point where you want to try being the one to fuck someone, you need to get permission from me or Robin first. Do you understand what I’ve told you so far?”

“Yes, Sir,” Sanji whispered, feeling untethered. If he wasn’t going to do sexual things, what good was he as the ship’s boy?

But Luffy wasn’t done yet. “From now on, you should try to wear pants. Boxers are fine. You’re going to have to wear clothes when we leave the ship, so you need to get used to them.”

Sanji cut a sideways look at Zoro. Sanji had a feeling that was his demand. 

“You said you wanted to keep your hair. You can keep it, as long as you tell someone when you want to cut it. You’re not allowed to keep your hair long if you don’t want it to be long anymore.”

Sanji frowned slightly. It seemed like an odd order. But he’d do it, regardless.

“We’ve all agreed that using the honorific -sir is okay. You may drop it completely if you feel comfortable doing so.”

Nami pressed her hands to her cheeks as if she were going to sleep, and Luffy nodded before continuing. “You are to sleep in your own bed, sit in that spot at the table to eat, and bathe regularly by yourself. If you need help with anything, you are required to ask one of us. Got it?”

Sanji nodded. “Yes, Luffy-sir.” He would do everything he was told. 

“Last order for now, but I can add more any time I want to,” Luffy warned. “You are no longer the ship’s boy.”

Sanji’s chest tightened and his stomach turned. Anxiety reared its ugly head. They didn’t want him?

“Instead, you are the ship’s cook again until you no longer want the job. You need permission to leave it, though, from me or Robin,” Luffy said. “We have a rotation and someone will help you out until you’re ready to do it on your own. Nami will continue to take care of the supplies until you’re ready for that, too.”

The anxiety attack that was in the offing died in the shock from Luffy’s words. “But… what about your other cook?” Sanji asked. Was he taking someone’s job away?

“What other cook?” Luffy suddenly grinned at Sanji. “You’re the only one I’ve ever had.”

Sanji was floored. His eyes darted from person to person. They were all nodding or smiling at him. “But- but I was gone.”

“I knew you’d be back,” Luffy said. “We just took turns in the meantime. Except for me. I’m only allowed on dish duty.”

Sanji opened his mouth to say something and closed it again. He felt dizzy. They hadn’t given his place on the ship to another person? Even though he’d been gone for over three and a half years? Sanji felt his face start to crumple as tears filled his eyes, emotion overwhelming him once again. He pressed his hand over his eyes as he began to cry, his body trembling not with anxiety, but from the feeling of being cherished.

Sanji felt a hat being put on his head. Luffy had done it before, on the dock, but this time it wasn’t about Sanji’s return. This time, Sanji felt loved and protected and safe. His crying turned into sobs of release, of all the pain, all the fear, all the things he’d lost. He felt Nami and Robin’s arms come around him. When they let go, Brook and Franky’s arms surrounded him. They were replaced by Usopp and Chopper’s teary hold. Even Jinbe hugged him briefly. Zoro embraced him last, lingering to whisper, “Cook.”

The single word, the name Zoro always called him instead of his real one, broke through the shackles in his mind. His name was Sanji, not boy. He was a cook, not a sex slave. He was loved by his family, not sold.

He was home.

Sanji walked along the shoreline of Pebble Island, feeling the surf wash over his bare feet. He’d stop to pick up a shell or a colorful pebble the island was named after. The Sunny had anchored at the small, uninhabited island to explore. They were still on the lookout for the last Road Poneglyph. The race to find the One Piece was a marathon, not a sprint. 

The ocean breeze tickled Sanji’s nose and ruffled his t-shirt. He brushed the stray blond hairs that had escaped his braid away from his face. His hair reached below the beltline of his shorts. His bared knees blended smoothly into the cybernetic lower legs and no one could tell that his feet weren’t his own. He could hear Luffy’s whoops and Chopper’s screams of panic in the narrow jungle. There was the crack of a tree falling, wood for Franky’s bonfire.

Sanji reached the end of the shoreline as it curved outward onto a point. He nimbly jumped from rock to rock to stand at the very tip. He looked out over the empty horizon, the sky dark in the far distance. The storm Nami had warned them about. It wouldn’t hit until tomorrow, though. They could enjoy themselves tonight. 

Sanji watched the slow waves roll toward him, separating at the point before continuing to the shore. A tiny crab darted across the rock he stood on. His thoughts turned toward the silent debate he’d been having with himself. Although it had been more than two years since he’d been reunited with his nakama, he still struggled with determining what was conditioning versus real feelings. He continued to be susceptible to following directions without thinking if he wanted to do it or not. There were days where he longed to be back on the Conglomerate, and he spent more time than healthy hanging around the Sunny’s toilets. Occasionally, he’d have nightmares of being chopped up, or Luffy selling him, morphing into Judge while he laughed, and every so often he’d have an anxiety attack. He hadn’t been able to break the habit of calling people Sir, except for the Marimo, though the honorific version had stuck for the crew.

Sanji was happy, though. Content. He was fully immersed in his role as the ship’s cook. His passion for feeding people had returned over time. He’d adapted to cooking one-handed, and he remembered all his recipes. He felt joy seeing his nakama’s faces light up when they ate his food. And when he fed strangers, he felt satisfaction of serving people with kindness.

“Yo-ho, Sanji-san.” Brook came up beside him and slid an arm around Sanji’s elbow. His top hat sported a fern leaf like a giant feather. “What brings you all the way out here?”

Sanji didn’t mind the intrusion. Luffy had added the order that he not be left alone on any island they visited, after he’d gone off with someone who’d reminded him of Chef Mollessin. He also was not permitted to stay on the ship alone. Crewmen from a vessel that had docked beside the Sunny had seen him naked on the main deck, about four months after he’d been freed, and had invited him to visit their ship. Sanji spent the day being used by that crew after being easily convinced that Luffy’s rules didn’t apply to anyone not on the Sunny. He almost became their ship’s boy when the vessel set out to sea, but Usopp had spotted him on the deck and the Sunny chased them down. Sanji’s orders were added to and adjusted after that.

Another wave broke at the point, splashing Sanji’s bare feet lightly. Laughter floated down the shore. Brook’s arm hooked in his felt safe and secure. 

“I’m thinking about asking permission to kiss Zoro,” Sanji told Brook. Sanji glanced far down the shoreline, where Zoro was chopping firewood with a sword. “Not sure if it’s what I want, or what I think I want.”

Brook sighed blissfully. “Our little lovebirds, possibly ready to take the next step.”

Sanji and Zoro had been more than friends for a little over three months. It took Sanji a long time to figure out that what he felt for Zoro was genuine attraction. Sanji could spend hours simply talking to Zoro and an equal amount of hours enjoying his company in silence. There was no pressure for anything. Sometimes, Sanji would tease Zoro for being the oldest virgin in existence, at age twenty-six. Even Chopper had experience now. But Zoro would only smile and say he was waiting for the right person, and Sanji knew that Zoro meant him.

A stray hair tickled his cheek, and he brushed it away with his stump. “I haven’t kissed anyone in over five and a half years.” His services on the Conglomerate and the second ship had never involved kissing. The Chef Mollessin lookalike hadn’t been interested in kissing, either.

“Something you want for yourself, then,” Brook said with an encouraging squeeze of Sanji’s arm. “That is music to my ears. If I had ears, that is. But I don’t because I’m a skeleton. Yo-ho-ho.”

Sanji smiled at Brook’s words. Something he wanted for himself. He didn’t want to kiss Zoro for Zoro’s pleasure. He wanted to kiss Zoro because he wanted to feel Zoro’s lips against his own. 

Brook tugged him lightly. “Let us head back. Nami-san wanted to know if you wished to have a barbecue on the shore.”

“I think that’s a good idea, Brook-sir,” Sanji said, as they made their way back across the rocks. “I can make hamburgers and grilled potato slices.”

Ahead of them, Usopp burst out of the jungle, riding Chopper in Walk Point, the two of them coated in feathers. They fled screaming down the shoreline. Heavy footfalls pounded behind them and the trees shook. Jinbe and Luffy appeared a moment later, riding what looked to be a giant chicken, trying to wrestle it under control. Luffy cackled in laughter as the bird chased Usopp and Chopper down the shore. Sanji and Brook glanced at each other and hurried after them. 

It looked like Sanji would be barbecuing chicken tonight, instead. 

End