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sluts4matt · 6 months ago

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HIGHER (420 special)

pairing: bsf!nate x mixed reader

summary: you've celebrated 4/20 every year since you were sixteen with a group of your friends, this year you were bringing one of your good friends nate to the get together. what happens when things take a turn between you two

warnings: SMUT, p in v, semi-public, swearing, making out, use of weed, pet names (use of ma), praising, use of y/n

word count: 2316

authors note: this was supposed to be out last week i'm ngl, i've just been busy and did in fact celebrate 4/20 so i fell asleep before i really got any work in on it.

view my master list here

april twentieth had to be your favorite day. the day your people got together to celebrate a plant helping them with the cruel world. this year you were happy to say your best friend nate would be joining you and your friends.

you pulled the tank top over your head, looking at yourself in the mirror before grabbing your watermelon flavored lip balm that your friend nick gave you.

you opened the tube, twisting the product up some before smearing it on your lips and smacking them together.

you slid on a pair of shoes, grabbing your pink bag containing pre-rolls and dabs, grabbing your keys and exiting your house. you locked the door and climbed in the driver's seat of your car, pulling away from your house.

you pulled up to the dispensary, walking into the shop. the bell above the door jingled when you pushed it open. "my favorite - shouldn't be here - customer," a girl with curly black hair and tattoos covering her arms smiles.

"hellooo whitney," you smile, walking up to the older woman. "need a new cartridge?"

"i mean... i didn't, i came in here for more dab, i'll be out by the end of the night. but do you have the blueberry kush west coast cure cartridge since i'm here?"

whitney nodded her head, you had come in a while back looking for one, but they didn't have any in stock. "you're in luck, we just got our inventory for the month last week."

you followed the woman to the back, not that you were supposed to be there since it was employees only. "hey, y/n," a guy with a backwards hat and gages greeted.

"hey axel," you greet, stopping behind whitney as she digs through boxes. "how are the babies?"

axel grins, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. "good, my girlfriend took the week off work so she could stay with them."

"ohhh that's so nice," you say. you had seen the twins a few times, even being blessed enough to babysit for a few hours while him and his girlfriend had date night.

whitney let out a small shout of success. "here it is, now, you're going to want to start low and then work your way up. you're a light weight compared to most of our customers."

you roll your eyes at her, "i am not," you huff. "that's not what i saw last time i did your nails," the lady grinned. whitney had been your go to for nails, having practiced while she was in high school.

"whatever," you roll your eyes, following her to the front. she rung up the dab, already knowing what her favorite customer liked and a cartridge. she stopped you before you swiped your card.

you watched as she scanned her badge, giving you a 30% discount. "i'll forever be grateful," you tell her.

"you know it. enjoy, have fun," she winked.

you walked back to your car, placing the white bag in the back before backing out of the parking space. you turned your left blinker on, turning out of the driveway.

the drive to nates house wasn't long, a whopping ten minutes. you pulled up to the curb, not even having time to pull up his contact before he was walking out the door.

you unlocked the doors, nate sliding in the passenger seat. "i hope you're ready to get baked out of your mind," you joke. he let out a small chuckle, taking the grey hood he wore off of his head, leaving him in his pink beanie.

"nice beanie," you muse, pulling away from his house and towards the park.

"thanks," he mumbled. "i'm glad to be going with you, it'll be fun," he smiles. "mhm," you hum, pulling up to the park fifteen minutes later. you turned your blinker on, turning into the parking lot before taking a parking space next to your friend sadies jeep.

"ready?"

"yep," nate replied, climbing out of the car.

you pulled your bag from the back, slinging it over your shoulder and grabbing the white bag before shutting the door. "heyyy," sadie and her girlfriend, emma, greeted getting out of her jeep.

"hey hey," you grinned, the two girls hugging you. "we were waiting for you guys," sadie informed. you nodded your head, starting the small walk towards the group of people.

you had met sadie a few years ago, her girlfriend emma being a family friend of yours. nate had joined the group some months back, the two of you running into each other at dunkin and immediately hit it off.

"hey guys," you greet, everyone saying their hellos. "well let's get the party started then," a girl with dyed red hair stated, pulling a lighter from her bra as she lit up the blunt she had held between her fingers.

a few hours into the gathering, you were happily baked.

you sat between nate and sadie, nates hand wrapped around your waist in order to provide some form of heat for you as you ate the watermelon popsicles someone had brought.

you sucked the tip of it into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip. nate coughed next to you, you pulled the tip out with a pop, looking at him as he took a deep breath.

"are you okay?" you question, handing him the popsicle. he grabbed it, nodding his head. "i'm good," he choked out.

"alrighty then," you laugh, reaching up and grabbing his beanie, putting it on your own head. you stood, stretching and cracking your joints as you did so. you held your hand out to nate, "wanna take a walk?"

he grabbed your hand, allowing you to help him stand. you turned to your friends, letting them know where the two of you were going, emma and sadie wiggling their eyebrows.

you grabbed your bag, throwing it over your shoulder as the two of you started walking, nates hand still holding yours.

"i'm glad you came with me today," you admit, leaning against him.

"so am i," he agrees. the two of you walk in silence, enjoying each others company. you reach a large tree, nate letting go of your hand to climb up it.

"actually?" you giggle, watching the boy jump to wrap his arms around a branch. he looked down at you, a small grin on his face. "come on."

you set your bag on the ground, grabbing a hold of the branch and jumping. nate caught your ankle, helping you climb into the tree. "what are we doing in a tree," you question, leaning against him.

he took the beanie off of your head, putting it on his own. "because i like trees," he shrugs. "oh yeah," you giggle, resting your head on his shoulder. you sit in a comfortable silence, the air around the two of you growing tense.

nate leaned his head against yours, turning his head some so his lips were closer to your ear. "i'm really glad we became friends," he admitted, nudging the side of your neck with his nose.

"me too," you sigh, smiling.

he pressed a small kiss to the side of your neck, making your smile grow. "i'm glad to hear," he mumbled, placing another kiss.

you felt a small amount of heat pool in the pit of your stomach. "we should probably get down," you mumbled, pushing the feeling down.

"probably," he mumbled. you both stood, nate dropping from the tree first. he held his arms up, his hands wrapping around your calves, sliding up as you slid down.

your legs wrapped around his torso as you slid, in hopes to stabilize yourself more as you slid.

the two of you fell back onto the ground, nates hand coming to rest on your back as you laid on top of him. you let out a small gasp, nate's breath fanning your face as the two of you laughed.

"are you okay?" you giggle, lifting your head up some to look down at the boy. "never better," he grins, his eyes flickering from yours to your lips.

he lifted his head up some, pressing his lips to yours quickly before he could talk himself out of it.

you kissed back, his hand moving to grip the back of your neck. his thumb rubbed soothing circles, the kiss not being rushed. you pulled back, looking at him. "can we go to your house?"

"please."

you pushed yourself off of him, helping him up. you grabbed your bag, taking his hand and guiding him back to the party. "hey guys," you smile, catching the attention of the group.

"hey," a few greeted. "hey, um, we're going to head out," nate stated.

"ooohh," sadie grinned, a smirk on her face. "die," you point, earning a giggle from her. "i love youuuu," she yells as you walk away. "i love you too," you yell back, laughing.

the walk to your car was quiet, the two of you walking slowly. you stopped at the passenger side door, opening it for him. "such a gentlewoman," he grins, you rolling your eyes.

you slid into the drivers seat, buckling and starting the car. you pulled away from the park, nate resting his hand on your thigh. his thumb running circles on your thigh.

the air in the car was thick with sexual tension, your breathing a little heavy. nate slid his hand further up, his fingertips grazing your core.

"this okay?" he asked, noticing you let out a shakey breath. "yeah," you breathed, gripping the steering wheel harder.

his finger ran down your core, a small groan escaping his throat. "fuck," he muttered.

"what?" you questioned, glancing at him.

"you're soaking."

you let out a small whine, biting your lip. "pull over," he groaned.

"wha- why," you stutter. "because i don't think i can wait until we get to my house," he mumbles. you bite your lip, pulling off into a hidden part of the road.

"turn the car off," he mumbles, pulling his seatbelt off and sliding his seat as far back as it would go. you turn the car off, undoing your seatbelt and shifting to straddle his lap.

you leaned forward, attaching your lips to his. his hands gripped your waist, his hips bucking up to meet yours. "fuck, can't wait to be inside you," he groaned, kissing along your jaw.

you ground down against him, the two of you moaning in unison. nate slid his hand between the two of you, pushing your skirt up as he undid his pants.

he pulled his member out, stroking it a few times before pushing your underwear to the side. he groaned, your slick coating the head. "fuck, so wet," he groaned.

"all for you," you whispered, nipping his earlobe. he pushed you down, the head pushing into your entrance. "fuck," you squeaked shoving your face into his neck.

"oh shit," he moaned, your walls hugging him. he pulled your shirt and bra cup down, his mouth connecting to one of your nipples.

"fuck, nate," you whined, pulling his beanie off and grabbing his hair. his tongue flicked your nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive nub.

he thrust his hips up, a cry escaping your mouth. "i'm sorry," he muttered, not stopping the shallow thrusts.

"fuck," you cried, the coil in the pit of your stomach tightening. "m'close," you moan. "already?" he grinned cockily, a moan escaping his own lips as you tightened around him.

you nodded your head, biting your lip and looking away from him. his hand grabbed your chin, pulling your head to face him. "let me hear that pretty voice," he cooed, thrusting up into you.

your hands rested on his shoulders, his thrusts speeding up. "fuck nate," you moaned. "right there," you cry, throwing your head back.

nate grinned, "right there ma?" he teased, his teeth connecting to your exposed neck. he thrusted into the spot, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"fuck," you moaned, the coil in your stomach snapping. your orgasm hit, your body shaking in his grasp.

"that's it," he encouraged. he kissed along your jaw, his hips working you through your orgasm.

"wait, shit," you moaned, his thrusts not faltering.

"why," he questioned, a small frown on his face. "cause... i'll cum again," you stutter. "okay, and?" he teased, biting his lip and smirking.

"oh," you moaned, leaning against him. he grabbed your ass, bouncing you in his lap. you leaned forward, connecting your lips to his.

he squeezed your ass, your walls clenching around him. "gonna make me cum," he breathed, his hips speeding up. you bounced with him, your breasts in his face. he kissed the tops of them, his lips moving across the skin.

"nate, oh my god," you moaned, throwing your head back. "so pretty," he breathed, his lips sucking a hickey into the skin above your nipple. "nate," you warned, your second orgasm approaching.

"cum for me," he ordered, his fingers digging into your waist.

you clenched around him, your second orgasm hitting. his hips stuttered, the coil in his stomach snapping as he shot his seed into you. the two of you panted, trying to catch your breaths.

he pressed his lips to yours, his hand roughly tangling in your hair. "so pretty," he murmured, pulling away and kissing along your neck. "such a pretty girl," he breathed, kissing your jaw.

"oh god," you breathed, your heart rate speeding up. nate smiled against your neck, pulling away and pressing his lips to yours. "so pretty," he breathed.

you bit your lip, sliding off his lap and adjusting your bra and skirt. nate tucked himself back in his pants, a blush on his cheeks. "wanna go to your place," you questioned, a shy smile on your face.

"absolutely," he grins. you start the car, buckling and backing out.

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knitmeapony · 4 months ago

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You should donate or subscribe to Consumer Reports

So this was one of those things I thought everyone knew about, and I was very wrong about that.

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Want to know how many products they've tested and have guides for?

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genshin-impact-updates · 1 month ago

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September New Products Released in Genshin Impact's Official Amazon Merchandise Store!

Hello, Traveler!

A variety of new Genshin Impact merchandise is now available in our official Amazon store!

The brand-new Of Lush Forests and Flying Sand Impression Apparel Series brings a variety of outfits and bags themed around Alhaitham, Kaveh, Tighnari, and Cyno. The Teyvat Zoo series introduces pet plush headwear for the first time, including designs featuring Wriothesley, Xiao, and more. Additionally, there are cute Yae Miko "Divina Vulpes" plushie keychains and Leisurely Otter plush storage bags now available.

Also, special promotion discounts will be available for selected items. Don't miss out!

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〓Promotion Duration〓

09/24/2024 00:00:00 – 09/30/2024 23:59:59 (PST)

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ourpetwarehouse · 2 years ago

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Nexgard is a highly effective oral treatment that kills fleas and ticks for dogs. The oral treatment comes in a beef-flavored chewable that eliminates adult fleas even before they can lay eggs.

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halodogcollar · 19 days ago

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youtube

In this in-depth interview, Justin Wanca speaks with Mike Ehrman, the Chief Technology Officer of Halo, about the game-changing features of the newly launched Halo 4 Dog Collar. Released on September 30th, this innovative product takes pet safety and tracking to the next level with dual-frequency GPS technology for unmatched accuracy, a redesigned battery life that lasts up to 40 hours, and a smaller, lighter design that fits dogs of all sizes.

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Learn about the Halo Protection Plan, firmware updates, and exclusive discounts for current Halo users. The Halo 4 Dog Collar is now available and is quickly becoming a must-have for pet owners seeking top-notch safety and performance for their furry companions.

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writereleaserepeat · 3 months ago

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Hear No Evil - Chapter 1

Rowan is an activist with the Pet Liberation Front. He has spent the better part of a decade assisting the cause as a multimedia specialist, but never spends much time with the victims he is so intent on saving. After going undercover as a buyer to capture systemic abuse on camera, he finds a broken boy that steals his heart. Before Rowan knows it, he has a rescue pet at home. Both Rowan and his new houseguest must take steps to heal and adjust to their new normal.

Masterlist

// Chapter 2 (tbd)

CW: bbu, bbu-typical institutional slavery, mention of noncon, noncon touch, sexual and nonsexual nudity, it/its pronouns used to dehumanize

“ID, please.”

Rowan handed over his driver’s license with a smile to the woman behind the counter. Marie, her name tag said, with a smaller typeface beneath that read she/her/hers. A faded cartoon sun sticker was wrapped halfway around the edge of the badge, almost completely covering the familiar WRU logo.

“Mr. Bailey,” she said with a soft smile in return, “welcome to today’s Opportunity Sale. Is this your first time attending one of WRU’s most special events?”

“No, I’ve been before.”

It was hard to keep his voice level, especially at first. He’d been to dozens of these events around the country, and each was proving to be harder on his spirit than the last. The weight of the phone in his shirt pocket, already recording, weighed him down as much as his words.

Opportunity Sale. He loathed the euphemism. It was a liquidation, a fire sale, a last chance for the souls the institution had broken beyond repair. These so-called pets up for sale today were what WRU considered damaged goods, defective products. These are pets who don’t live up to WRU standards of excellence, they’d say, so we’re offering them at a discount, each sold as-is.

The “defects” varied. Some were marred by years of physical abuse, no longer able to perform the tasks they were trained for as their bodies failed. Others had simply lost their minds, slipped into catatonia, a permanent dissociation that rendered them a husk of the person they’d once been. Sometimes, albeit rarely, there were victims that WRU couldn’t fully break and bend to their whims, pets who were marked by attitude and defiance that no typical buyer would tolerate. Some were simply old, the incessant labor and abuse having weakened their bodies, unable to fulfill their purpose with the grace and ease that was expected.

They called it an opportunity, but It was nothing more than a last-ditch effort to recoup the costs that went into each “product.” Fully breaking a person’s mind took considerable time and money, and a broken pet sold for pennies on the dollar was still better for WRU’s books than a total loss.

Those pets that weren’t sold before the close of business would be unceremoniously euthanized before the next sunrise.

“If you’re familiar, then I’ll spare you the usual spiel about how this works,” Marie continued as she ran his ID through the desktop scanner. If she noticed the edge to his voice, she didn’t show it. “But I’ll give you a few reminders, just to refresh your memory. WRU salespersons will be stationed throughout the sales floor, wearing yellow shirts and WRU name tags just like mine. They’re available to answer any questions about merchandise or to help close any sales. We also ask that you refrain from live video or photographs for the privacy of our staff.”

“Got it.” Rowan felt the lie sticky on his tongue. The staff present today would be afforded no privacy, not if he could help it. Their atrocities, their complicity in this system, would soon be aired to the growing world of people who cared. Even this interaction at this front desk would be on tape, ready to share with the world in a matter of days.

“Wonderful,” Marie said as she handed his ID back with a pamphlet tucked beneath it. “You can find the map of our sales floor in this brochure. Domestic will be in the front right through the double doors, Platonic towards the center, Romantics and all other classifications behind the black curtain on the left. I will say that we’re particularly low on Platonic inventory for this event, so if that’s what you’re after, I’d recommend coming back for next month’s Opportunity Sale. If you’re looking for anything specific, a WRU salesperson would be happy to assist.”

Rowan retrieved his ID and the map out of her hands, and he silently hoped she wouldn’t notice his fingers shaking.

“Got it, thanks for your help.”

A final smile was all he afforded her before turning to the heavy double doors beyond the entryway.

As he stepped closer to the threshold of purgatory, a familiar memory rose from the back of his mind. It always did at these places, the familiar sensation overwhelming him as his subconscious dragged him back nearly fifteen years.

---

“Hey, prof, are we there yet?”

Benny’s familiar voice cut sharp through the otherwise low murmur of conversation on the bus.

“Benny, please,” Professor Engelhardt groaned, exasperation obvious in both her face and her voice. “I would appreciate it if all of our volunteers could act their age. You’ll know when we get there, I promise. In the meantime, try and exercise even a modicum of patience”

Rowan felt Grey squeeze his knee, and when he looked over the other young man gave him a toothy smile.

“For once, the loud-mouth has a point,” Grey said as he stifled a giggle.

“I have to agree,” Rowan agreed as he swallowed a laugh of his own. “It feels like we’ve been staring at nothing but cornfields for the last two hours. Where could we possibly be going this far out of the city?”

“Professor Engelhardt did say it was essential to our training as PLF volunteers, and I know that it’s a requirement for anyone who wants to do investigative work for the PLF. But as far as I know, there’s no WRU facilities out west of the city like this.”

“You’d be correct.”

Rowan looked up as his ears burned in embarrassment, the tired professor looking down at both him and Grey from the aisle. She continued, seemingly unaware of the blush that also tinged Grey’s cheeks.

“This is a required journey for all volunteers who are looking to take the next step in their PLF activism. We’d rather you each know now whether this kind of environment will be too much for a sensitive stomach. And you’re also correct on a second count, Greyson. We’re not going to any WRU facility, at least not yet. You each have a considerable amount of training ahead of you before you go quite so far.”

By now, Professor Engelhardt’s voice had grabbed the attention of the other volunteers squeezed into the rattling and repurposed school bus. Faces of all ages, from the hopeful university students to the equally tired retirees, were rapt as their chaperone continued. Rowan’s stomach felt like it was doing somersaults as she spoke.

“We’re going to a cattle slaughterhouse. It’s time that you all experience for yourselves what it’s like when blood soaks the floor and all you can hear is screaming and heavy machinery. You need to see what happens when a collection of personal choices and systems meant to harm come together to determine whether something lives, or whether it dies. These aren’t humans, and they can’t speak to you to share their stories, but you’ll have plenty of time to see those horrors with your own eyes as you continue as volunteers. For now, let’s get you accustomed to keeping a straight face amidst the suffering and bloodshed. Given some of your aspirations, that shouldn't be much to ask.”

This time, Grey grabbed Rowan’s hand. Rowan gripped it back until his knuckles turned white.

---

That same smell followed Rowan now, the acrid stench he first experienced in the slaughterhouse on that humid August day. It was a lingering copper heavy in the air, a whisper of blood among festering wounds and fluids. WRU certainly tried to cover their tracks, make this place seem welcoming and inviting to the public, hide the litany of abuse that propped the system up. But to Rowan, and to anyone who knew better, there was no hiding the stench of ammonia and waste that clung to skin as much as sweat. These were sins that neither Pine Sol nor bleach could cover.

Rowan pushed through the double doors and entered the sales floor. It was showtime.

The repurposed warehouse was milling with bodies. There were throngs of buyers meandering between yellow-clad WRU salespeople and black-clad Handlers, some chatting cheerfully while they contemplated buying a living being, others already busying their hands with prodding the “merchandise.”

Opportunistic buyers hoping to get a pet at a discount came in a few standard flavors. There would be the middle-class families, unable to afford a brand-new pet, but still hoping to score a Domestic that was good enough to help around the house. There were the desperate perverts who were looking to try out a Romantic, see if flesh was better than silicone to get their kicks. And then there were the truly depraved, those hoping that they can find a legal way to torture - and likely murder - a living being without the threat incarceration hanging over their heads.

Rowan was posing as a long-curious buyer who might finally cave and get a Romantic all for himself. He wanted to be charismatic and sure of himself, but prove to be a bit more hesitant when it came to the “merchandise” itself. He was dressed smart, like he had money, but erred towards frugality. This would drum up the sales people, get them to incriminate WRU and its horrors under the guise of a sales pitch, the very thing that would generate sound bytes perfect for the pro liberation materials.

He started with the Domestics, he always did. They were typically positioned at the entryway, intentionally so, as both the most in-demand and publicly palatable part of the system. Most families and prospective buyers wouldn’t wander past this point of the warehouse, not needing to look any further.

A few of the victims were kept in cages, others on long leashes for handlers to parade around. It all depended on the state they were in, how well they’d be able to sell themselves as much as the salespeople did.

“You look like a busy man,” a woman clad in WRU-issued yellow said with a smile in Rowan’s direction. “What do you say about never having to cook for yourself again? What about coming home to clean laundry every day without needing to think about it?”

“That does sound tempting,” Rowan answered as he slowed to a halt.

He looked at the man attached to the saleswoman’s lead, a tall and gangly thing, hunched shoulders with a distant look in his eyes. The defect was readily apparent: he was standing and leaning on a pair of forearm crutches, rather than the expected kneeling, because he was missing most of his left leg.

“This is one of our best deals of the day,” she continued her pitch with practiced ease, “I can guarantee you that. A flawless all-around Domestic, with great command responsiveness and attentiveness. It’s perfect for a busy working man or a family with a few kids. We’ve got it marked down today due to an obvious defect with its legs, which means it moves much slower than we’d expect from one of our model Domestics. Likewise, it can’t assume many of the expected kneeling positions, and struggles to move from position to position otherwise. This pet requires a patient owner, but the reward for that patience is a model that otherwise works as expected.”

This man would likely live another day. Rowan couldn’t see many other physical signs of damage beyond the amputation, and so long as this one ended up with someone who kept up with his medical equipment and any other treatments, he’d likely have many more years of service ahead of him. Maybe he’d even live long enough to see the whole damn system dismantled.

Still, it was Rowan’s job today to get incriminating sound bytes and video, so he pressed back.

“I don’t like how tall it is,” he said, staring at the man who’d tower over him if he wasn’t slouched over his crutches. “I’d hate someone to think it has any kind of authority or power over me. It would be embarrassing in front of guests.”

“Rest assured, this model is fully obedient and appropriately subservient. After nearly a decade of service, there have been zero complaints of defiance or insubordination. Its last owners simply couldn’t bear the aesthetics of a Domestic like this. They’ve left glowing reviews of its service, and had it receive additional training in hand washing and minor repairs of delicate clothes. Really, this is a steal, and it’s more than discounted for the cost of a leg.”

“I understand,” Rowan said. “Still, I’m not a very tall man, and this one is just too much for me to handle. Your pitch is good, though, I’m sure you’ll have someone take it off your hands.”

“Of course, we want to make sure that each customer gets a pet that’s best suited for their needs, even if it is at an Opportunity Sale like this. If you’re interested in a shorter Domestic designation, we’ve got one over there with my colleague Dominic.” She pointed to the far end of the Domestic zone, to a tall man in yellow with a pet in a cage beside him. Rowan swallowed disgust once more.

“I’ll go check it out, thanks.”

And he did. He walked slowly, moving deliberately from side to side so his camera captured everything. This included the sight of a Platonic falling to their knees as an electric collar went off around their neck. The would-be purchaser gave a lecherous smile and ran her hand through the panting pet’s hair once the crackle of electricity faded. There would be no fairy tale ending for that unfortunate soul.

“I saw my colleague Debbie point you over here,” the WRU employee said as Rowan came within earshot of the cage tied to the warehouse floor. “Do you mind if I give you the sales pitch while you look the merchandise over?”

“Well, the fact you’ve got this one in a crate while the others are out and about isn’t promising,” Rowan tried to lament as he gazed through the bars of the cage.

“Ah, but that’s part of the story.” Already the salesman was working to weave a tale, and it was one Rowan would listen to with well-practiced feigned interest. The man gestured at the crate with an expression of false sorrow before he continued.

“This one isn’t in a crate because it’s a danger to you. No, it’s a danger to itself, and only then because it’s so stricken by grief. You see, this pet is from our very first Domestic-Care line of products, the latest from WRU in home-care solutions. Its extended training made it perfect for older buyers looking to have a Domestic with a bit of extra training in handling low-complexity medical equipment like wheelchairs, walkers, shower chairs, stair lifts, and more. It was paired with a loving owner, carried out its tasks dutifully, and went years with a perfect record. All check-ins from WRU were met with glowing reviews.

“Given the opportunity, it follows routines to a degree of meticulousness few of our pets have a predisposition for. Genuinely, this pet has always been one-of-a-kind. However, its owner passed away from circumstances entirely beyond this pet’s control. It went out of its mind with grief, and no matter how many new homes we’ve placed it in, and no matter the attempts we’ve made to re-train it, it escapes and runs right back to its old master’s home.”

Even now, Rowan could see the pet searching for the door, their eyes following the flow of people in and out of the sales room. The human feelings were there. They always had been, and Rowan could all but feel the grief himself. That panicked searching for a way out, that desire to run into the arms to the person that this human felt they belonged to. A desperation for a door to an old life, a familiar voice, an expected touch. Grief as manifest through complete brainwashed devotion.

Rowan knew better by now than to let his emotions seep through onto his face.

“So, it’s a runaway risk. A certain runaway, in fact.”

“I wouldn’t say anything with certainty,” the employee said with a nerve-tinged laugh. “In fact, the reason this particular model is on the floor today is with the hopes it connects with someone as deeply as it connected with its first owner. There’s no guarantee of that, we know, but it’s worth the shot. We’re hoping the right person will come along today and help them find peace. In the meantime, we’d recommend a home outfitted with windows that lock, and doors that are equipped with biometric verification that the pet can’t bypass.”

The only peace this pet would find would be its death later this evening. No one in their right mind would take a runaway, not a casual purchaser, and not even a liberation group. The risk of a successful escape was just far too great.

The pet wouldn’t meet Rowan’s eyes even now, as it returned hunting, searching for the familiar face it was expecting. A face that would never come. There was no solace in knowing that soon, for the faithful at least, pet and owner would be reunited.

“Unfortunately, I’m not equipped to handle a runaway,” Rowan said as he looked up from the crate with a sigh. “Honestly, I feel like these Domestics have just sidetracked me. I was here to look at the Romantics, really.”

“Then you’ll want to head right behind that curtain over there,” the man said with a gesture to the tall velvet curtains that cordoned off nearly a third of the warehouse. “There are plenty of additional WRU employees there to help you find a model that’s suitable to your needs.”

With a nod, Rowan turned to walk towards the curtains. He lingered for a moment, just long enough to stick his fingers through the bars of the cage at his side, a chance to let the pet seek out comfort if they wanted. No touch came, and Rowan walked away with a familiar pang in his heart. He knew by now that he was never going to save them all, not yet, but it didn’t ease the pain.

Another flash of his ID was all it took to get him through the foreboding curtains. WRU absolutely didn’t want families and reporters seeing this side of the system, after all. The Romantics division might have been the second best-selling of all the WRU models, but it was also the most secretive. There was good reason for that.

As soon as Rowan passed the threshold he was hit with the thick aroma of sex and fear. There was a more sinister atmosphere in the rooms that existed behind the curtain, air heavy with that adrenaline-twinged sweat of broken pets who were fighting for their lives, some being used live for demonstrations on the sales floor. Even after all this time, Rowan’s stomach wasn’t quite accustomed to it.

He kept his chest forward and shoulders out. That was the best way for his camera to capture the sights and the sounds, because after all, that was the reason he was here. He wasn’t here to save these victims, as much as he wished that was the case. He was here in the hopes that their suffering would give those that came after them a fighting chance, that airing these atrocities to the world would bring the system to its knees one day.

The first sight that drew his attention was a man cinched to a table, an unusual arrangement for even the most “defective” Romantics. There were already two potential buyers there, hands on the naked pet, touching his body and fondling his genitals. The pet was unflinching, his chest rising and falling steadily, lips giving out soft sighs and moans in a practiced rhythm.

“I didn’t expect this one to be so popular,” the WRU employee said with feigned exclamation as Rowan meandered over. “But young man, you certainly have good taste. This model is one many once would have believed was unsalable, but here, at the Opportunity Sale, it’s being given a second chance. Not only that, but it’s proving to be the center of attention.”

‘What’s wrong with it?” Rowan asked bluntly, still surveying the scene. Something had to be wrong, and even his own seasoned eyes hadn’t figured it out yet. The pet’s gaze was unfocused, its body still, just as a Romantic was trained to be unless given the command to engage.

“Another tragedy, I’m afraid.” The salesperson didn’t sound saddened at all. “There was an incident during its training that left it paralyzed from the mid-back down. This means that, as a Romantic, its functions are limited. It can’t sustain an erection anymore, and it can’t engage in certain types of play. However, it's still just as tight as our standard buyers would expect, and its mouth is an absolute dream. You’d be responsible for the additional care costs of a paralyzed pet, but for someone with limited sexual needs of their own, this model will more than fulfill.”

At least once each Opportunity Sale, Rowan swore to himself that this was finally the time he was going to be sick on the job. He’d see something so horrific that there was no answer except to choke up bile and spit there on the sales floor. He’d likely out himself as a PLF agent in that same breath - after all, who else would be so concerned about the well being of pets? - but it almost didn’t matter. These horrors were too much to witness, much less bear as the victim was bearing them now.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. At least that sales pitch would make a great sound byte for the pet liberation materials.

“Uh, yeah, that’s not what I’m looking for. I’d definitely want one that’s younger and, uh, more mobile.”

“Understandable,” the salesperson said with a nod. “There are plenty of other options here today that might suit your fancy. Feel free to keep browsing, and as always, you’re welcome to ask a WRU employee for any assistance or further direction.”

“Thanks.”

And Rowan did keep browsing. He browsed carefully, angling his chest to capture all of the angles he could, kneeling down to “inspect” pets that were sprawled naked on the floor. The path he took around the Romantics section was methodical. The disabled pets, the catatonic pets, the ones with abuse written on their skin, Rowan tried to capture them all. When he could he gave their hands what he hoped was a squeeze of comfort - possibly the last they’d receive in their too-short lives.

He was nearly to the back corner, at which point he’d loop around to the front and make a graceful exit, when he saw another Romantic in a crate.

Unlike all the others, this one made Rowan stop in his tracks.

The man in the crate was young, possibly ten or so years younger than Rowan himself. He had a thick hair of black curls and he was looking through the bars of the crate with searching, hopeful eyes. It was almost like he was waiting for something, someone, to notice him. Most of the pets here were defeated, on their last chance at redemption, already chewed up and spit out. Their spirits had been dampened. Somehow, some way, this one was still fighting.

It was like a thread in his chest pulled Rowan up to the crate. His feet were moving without him commanding them, unlike anything he’d experienced at a sale like this before. He was caught up in something special, something different, about this victim.

“You have a good eye,” the saleswoman said with a warm smile. “This is possibly one of the best deals we have on the floor today, so long as you’re willing to be a little patient.”

“What’s wrong with this one?” Rowan asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy kneeling almost eagerly behind the bars.

“Let me start off by saying that this pet is in great physical condition. Not only is it one of the youngest we have here today, it has passed almost all of our physical examinations with flying colors. Its strength, speed, and tactile abilities are within or exceeding our typical parameters. Not only that, but this particular pet has something that is typically reserved for only our most exclusive customers: it has dual training, and is classified as both a Romantic and a Domestic.”

“That’s not something you typically see at an Opportunity Sale, I suppose,” Rowan pretended to muse. He already knew that what she had said was the truth. Dual-classification pets took many more months of training than single-classification, and it often showed in both the abuses and expenses associated with keeping one. A Dual-classification pet could easily cost as much as a down payment on a house.

“Exactly why this is such a great opportunity,” the saleswoman beamed. “As a Domestic, it even has specialty training in French cuisine. You’ll be eating like royalty every night if you so please. As a Romantic, its skills and abilities are considered quite standard, with experience in training for light bondage.”

“So, why aren’t you telling me what’s wrong with it?”

A sigh. Dramatic, almost despairing. It was an act of practiced sympathy that soured Rowan’s stomach even further.

“Unfortunately, this one seems incredibly selective with the orders it follows, if it follows them at all. No amount of effort from our most experienced WRU handlers have been able to adequately refurbish it. As I said, its behaviors and capabilities are within or exceeding WRU standards, and it certainly seems eager to please its keepers, but I can make no promises on its compliance with specific commands.”

The boy looked up at Rowan for just a moment before turning his gaze back down. From that brief glance, Rowan wouldn’t have put him a day over twenty-five. But God, he just looked so lost. He didn’t seem lost in the way that many others at the sale today did, that catatonic, too-far-gone glaze over their eyes, the will to live entirely sapped out of them. Instead, it looked like this boy was hunting for something, someone who would notice him, give him attention in return.

Rowan couldn’t help himself. He saw it as a sign that this victim wanted to live, wanted to make it off this floor alive, wanted to connect with any human being that came by and could give him a chance. It was a spark, and against his better judgment, Rowan hoped that he could one day stoke it into a fire.

“How much?”

The words left his mouth before he was able to swallow them down. His heart began to race almost instantly: this wasn’t the plan, it was never the plan. He was supposed to get in, take some footage, and get out. He wasn’t trained for anything else. He wasn’t prepared to engage in rescue activities, especially not like this.

Yet Rowan had never known anything with a certainty such as this: he could not leave here without saving this boy.

“Wow, you’re won over already?” The saleswoman’s voice was light, but she was already pulling out a clipboard with a stack of paperwork on it. “I haven’t even given you all of its physical details yet. You can’t see quite how tall it is in the crate, can you? Here, let me get you its height, weight, vaccine record, some of its other statistics-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Rowan managed, almost breathless from the sudden influx of stress. “I want this one. How much?”

“Because it’s lacking in one of the most essential features of a WRU product, the ability to listen to owner commands, it’s offered at a significant discount. This one is seven thousand and five hundred dollars before tax, and the seven percent state and local sales tax will be applied at checkout. We also have optional add-ons, like the pet care package that insures all well-being visits, vaccines, and dental care at any WRU-sponsored pet clinics, as well as training class vouchers to impart additional skills.”

Rowan had already retrieved his wallet from his pocket, fingers trembling as he pulled out his ID and method of payment. That was a lot of money, yes, but who was he to put a price on a life? His car could hang on another few years, probably. Maybe. It was just money, he’d be fine.

“I’ll take the base package. I don’t need anything else.”

The rest of the sales floor became distant, dull, and Rowan took the pen into his hand as the saleswoman shoved a pile of paperwork in his direction. Tomorrow morning, she said, this boy would be delivered to his front door. Initial on this line, sign here, what’s today’s date? It was a blur and Rowan was hardly aware of what his own hands were doing.

He couldn’t hear her over the thundering of blood in his ears, and the rush of adrenaline made it hard to steady the pen in his hand. He penned his signature on the final line and the saleswoman congratulated him with words he could hardly make out. It didn’t feel real, like he was walking through a dream.

Rowan was going to be a pet owner.

---

The din of conversation in the massive room almost overcame the incessant ringing in the pet’s ears. Not much was capable of drowning it out these days, not since it had become so loud. It never stopped, anymore.

It couldn’t hear the words that were exchanged all around it, those busy groups of people moving back and forth, their legs passing its crate by without stopping. It had a hard time hearing words, no matter how hard it tried, and whether it was somewhere busy like this or otherwise. It wanted to be good, it wanted to listen, it wanted to make its master and its handlers pleased. But the pet couldn’t do that anymore, and deep in its gut, it knew that’s why it was here today. It was here with all the other pets that were broken, that were missing things, that cried when they were brought into the room this morning. Those pets were bad, and the handlers had no trouble saying as much.

The pet wanted to believe it wasn’t like those broken pets. That it would go back to Master, or have a new master, and be able to please them like a good pet should. But for that to happen it had to be on its best behavior. Handler Green had said so, that the pet would be thrown out if it didn’t try its very best to listen and be good. Handler Green had shouted this over and over, as though the pet was being disobedient just by existing, rather than unable to hear him. It didn’t want to be disobedient, and it wished that the handlers didn’t have to repeat themselves so much. It wished it could hear right, like the other pets were able to.

A pair of legs stopped beside the crate, toes pointed towards the yellow-shirt woman that wasn’t a handler, but the pet was told to behave for nonetheless. The pet looked up, eager to see who might be interested, perhaps someone who wanted it. The man’s eyes met the pet’s, and it quickly averted its gaze back towards the ground, cheeks burning. It was a novice mistake to make eye contact with a person like that. If it didn’t get itself under control, remember its training and very best manners, the pet knew that it was destined to fail.

Maybe it was a broken pet after all. It certainly had the bruises and scarring from seemingly endless corrections by handlers, anyway.

Those legs finally walked away and a blanket was thrown over the top of the pet’s crate. It yelped in spite of itself as the darkness descended. Did this mean that it had failed? Was that single glance enough to seal its fate, destined it to never have another Master to serve, no second chance to prove itself? Was this the end - alone, in the dark, unable to hear anything but the shrill ringing that had become its only companion?

I want to be good, it thought to itself, tears splashing down from its watering eyes to its knees. Its fists balled up, hands shaking from the sadness and the longing. I just want to be good.

---

Taglist (please ask if you would like to be added or removed, I know it's been a while :))

@honey-is-messi @octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @squishablesunbeam @tragedyinblue

@clairelsonao3 @den-of-evil @cepheusgalaxy @aswallowimprisoned @kira-the-whump-enthusiast

@honeycollectswhump @rekiroyalstraightprincemaru @whumpzone @peachy-panic @whumplr-reader

@dislexiher @cc1010foxy @onlybadendings @panstardalia @tempoghast

@dokidokisadness @anonfromcanada @starfields08000 @bloodredfountainpen @pumpkin-spice-whump

#hear no evil #whump #whump writing #whump community #whump blog #bbu whump #bbu #bbu adjacent #hear no evil chapter 1 #almost two years after the first chapter was published we're back at it #hope y'all like this one even more the second time around

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homielander · 1 year ago

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my biggest pet peeve about the boys fandom discourse is everyone is very quick to point out how vought is an amalgamation of amazon and disney and every megacorp in one, but whenever it comes to this show's resolution (specifically regarding homelander), that awareness flies out the window and i'm forced to endure one take after another celebrating homelander's inevitable death because it will be a happy ending and fix every problem. discounting that this is a very emotionally motivated and punitive view of justice (would depowering him not be sufficient to keep him from harming others?) i feel like the show has gone to great lengths to spell out that homelander is a product of his environment... just another victim of vought's exploitation and callous disregard for human life.

this applies to other supes as well. annie's mom says outright that annie was injected with compound v in exchange for their hospital bills being covered, a-train didn't have a stable home life based on his account from s1 and it's likely a similar arrangement was worked out there, and iirc some vought promotional snippet mentioned that supersonic signed on to a supe team after vought paid for his rehab. after preying on vulnerable kids and families, vought flings them headfirst into missions even though they're not properly equipped to exercise their abilities and someone is accidentally killed (we've seen this happen with homelander, a-train, and crimson countess, to name a few). new supes realize the heroes they've idolized their whole lives are completely uncaring in the face of this violence. and even though substance use is widespread among supes, there don't seem to be any constructive efforts made to curb it because it succeeds in dulling any moral qualms they might have about vought's culture of casual violence (a-train is the only exception but that's because his substance use begins to impede his speed, thereby impacting the bottom line). and at the end of the day, all their transgressions are covered up by vought, which opens the door to all sorts of legal and psychological debts.

and anyone can preach about strength of character, but we know maeve suffered from this slow moral deterioration, and we were seeing it take place in real time with annie in season 1 (only maeve and hughie's interference stopped it). their best intentions did not matter! homelander is no different, except that his conditioning was far more severe (and admittedly he was less hesitant to abandon any notions of doing good when his status was threatened, but that's not at all surprising when you consider his upbringing).

the point is that vought enables and encourages supes to abuse regular people. that problem has never been exclusive to homelander. homelander is trying to subsume vought but it is an institution that existed before him and will persist after him. i guess it's not a surprise that so many people peddle homelander as the "real villain" considering we mostly experience events in the boys' pov but it does make most conversations about this show's endgame insufferable. god bless

#like the posts i saw while s3 was airing... some of u have lost the plot sorry #and tbf the show has gotten a lot shallower in its depiction of supes as it's gone on #anyway im rewatching s1 and having a lot of fun #homelander #the seven #the boys

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benevolentthorn · 6 months ago

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Where I think the counselors would work off-season:

Laura: I feel like her family would own a farm in North Carolina and that she would work with the different animals on the farm. She upkeeps their enclosures, feeds them, etc and provides horseback riding lessons for kids. She gained her love for animals from helping on the family farm starting at a young age.

Max: I don’t know why but I could see Max working at a movie theater concession counter. It’s not his favorite job in the world and he complains a lot to Laura about it but he enjoys seeing different movies come out and sneaking himself snacks when no one’s looking. I could also see him being good at math and tutoring middle schoolers on the side.

Jacob: I could see Jacob working at a sports and gym center as a sports instructor; most likely for either football or soccer. Jacob really loves his job because he loves sports and working with kids! He’s really enthusiastic with the kids he teaches and is always cheering them on to do their best! He’s really funny too and makes the kids laugh and he’s good at cheering up kids if they make a mistake. The kids love him overall. Sometimes Nick and Kaitlyn stop by to work out in the gym with him.

Emma: Realistically I don’t think she would work, since she’s an influencer and she gives me “rich parents who give her a credit card with large spending limit” vibes, but for the sake of this post I will say she would probably work a few days a week at Sephora. She really enjoys all of the different makeup and skincare products and would probably use her employee discount to go shopping frequently. She loves buying new products to review on her YouTube channel. She seems unapproachable and judgy to customers, but she’s actually very sweet and loves helping customers pick out products! Would probably quit the minute she encounters a karen though 😭💀

Abi: Pre game I feel like Abi would have worked at a lush in the same mall where Emma works. She mostly enjoyed it because she loves the different scents of the soaps and bath bombs. However, rude customers would make her very anxious, especially post-game. Post-game, I feel like she would start working at a café but not just any cafe….a cat café!! Abi LOVES cats and she enjoys making all of the different types of drinks. I feel like Abi would especially love boba and would come up with different boba recipes while working there. She also doesn’t encounter any karens because who would be a karen at a cat café of all places?? She loves playing with the kitties in her free time and Emma and Nick frequently stop by to see her, get drinks and pet the cats.

Nick: Nick always was in the restaurant industry. Pre game, he worked at a small restaurant in downtown Sydney as a waiter. Diners loved him but he was very shy and kind of awkward as a waiter, which is what made him consider working in the kitchen instead. Post-game he moved to America permanently and took a line cook position at, you guessed it, an Outback Steakhouse LMAO. He mostly enjoys the job, however he complains about how inaccurate the menu is for an Australian themed restaurant 😭💀. He mostly enjoys the job but sometimes he gets stressed out and becomes the Australian Gordon Ramsey. He works near the cat café where Abi works and likes to stop by to visit her and get coffee during his lunch breaks. He stays extra longer if he’s having a stressful day and pets the cats.

Dylan: Dylan works at a music/record store both pre and post game. He loves the job because it’s not very stressful and he gets to discover different kinds of music just by stocking the shelves and looking through all of the records and CDs that come in! I feel like Dylan would have a wide range of music knowledge and taste and would especially love classic rock and older pop music. The owners love him and he is frequently named employee of the month! He is very chatty with customers and will have their ear for long periods of time nerding out about different bands and artists!

Ryan: Ryan’s first ever job was at a hot topic in the same mall where Abi and Emma worked. He mainly picked up the job to save up for animation school and to help support Sarah and his grandparents. Due to lack of hours, he moved to a Spencer’s shortly before the events of the game. It didn’t take long for him to quit though because he got annoyed with the amount of jokes he would hear about “the back” (if ykyk 💀). Post game, Ryan got even more interested in the paranormal. For this reason, he took up a job at an antique store located right next to the record shop Dylan works at and he really loves it. The owners pay him well and when he’s alone, he likes to investigate the history on all of the antiques and see if he can encounter any spirits. Since they work right next to each other, Dylan and Ryan like to visit each other frequently like the lovebirds they are 💕

Kaitlyn: Kaitlyn first worked at a dick’s sporting goods, since she enjoys sports and fitness. She somewhat enjoyed the job up until one day when she got into an argument with a karen, which resulted in her getting fired. Jacob, like the great friend he is, put in good word for her at the center he works at and helped Kaitlyn get a job as a receptionist for the gym area. She enjoys the job much better and she eventually gets promoted to a fitness instructor position, where she hosts her very own fitness classes! She also gets to bully Jacob as much as she pleases 🤭

If you enjoyed this post, please send me headcanon asks! I really would love to share all of my thoughts on the characters! 💕

#the quarry #the quarry headcanons #the quarry game #supermassive games #supermassive games headcanons #laura kearney #max brinly #jacob custos #emma mountebank #abi blyg #nick furcillo #kaitlyn ka #dylan lenivy #ryan erzahler #headcanons

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justplainwhump · 1 month ago

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Bull

Meet B's opponent in his first big fight.

[Dany: Fighting Ring Arc]

This is adapted from an RP with @hackles-up, my beloved B (Beast) is her character.

Content / warnings: illegal fights, forced to fight, threats of noncon, humiliation and dehumanisation, broken bone, shock collar, whumpee x caretaker, bad guy pov. BBU setting implied.

Today's arena was impressive; even though it was as improvised as they all were. Set in the old sports area of an abandoned factory's rooming house, the organizers had invested in quite a bit of equipment and service to make the venue memorable.

Large stage lighting systems were installed on the long sides of the pool, spotlights that would later illuminate the fighting pit on the bottom of the empty pool now dancing over the expectant audience, the caterers flitting between them, and the fighters preparing in a cordoned-off area opposite the entrance.

Bull stood in the fighter's area with crossed arms, his back to the wall, the size of the empty half circle around him a good indicator for the respect he'd earned himself over the past years. He was a favorite; his owner's, but also, the crowd's. Every now and then one of the guests in their suits or evening wear would step in closer to the cordon, look at him, and nod contently before they pulled out their wallets and turned towards the betting stations. He allowed himself a short smile. More money meant more clout, meant more rewards. Bull had started as a desperate street fighter, but he had worked himself up to his own room in his master's house, his own chef, his own physical therapist.

Only thing he'd ceased getting, something other Dogs had, were Chewtoys.

Bull went through them too quickly, Master had said. He'd have to wait for the fights. It was an unspoken law, that everyone who set up an opponent for Bull, everyone who wanted to challenge the champion, added a prize for him as well. He hadn't seen tonight's one, yet. Not that it mattered much. He'd win. He always did. And after, there'd be someone scared and warm waiting for his cock.

Usually, these prizes were runaways, gathered from the street, or discount pets after a third or fourth refurb. Skinny, scarred, pathetic. Most weren't even Romantics. Didn't matter. Bull didn't want to be seduced.

They rarely made it long. Sometimes, spectators of the fights would pay Bull's master extra, to let them watch the aftermath. In those cases, they did last longer. Bull knew how to give a spectacle.

He figured they'd want a spectacle tonight, as well. Bull was the headliner, scheduled for the last fight of the night - as always -, but this time, they pitted him against fresh meat. One of Hank's, this place's head operator's, latest findings. The man was good at spotting potential; but setting his latest toy up against Bull in his very first fight? Risky, to say the least.

From the corner of his eye, Bull saw one of Hank's trainers pointing at him. Ryder. Arrogant, overpriced ass who wouldn't last a second in the pit himself. Only thing he could achieve was mess with WRU products conditioned minds. His Master had brought Ryder in as a trainer for Bull once, because he was meant to be the best. Hadn't worked out well. Bull didn't fight because of weird WRU drugs messing up his brain. Bull fought because he wanted to. Because fighting opened doors for him. Because he couldn't just do whatever he wanted, but was celebrated for it, revered even. His Master had a claim on him, sure, but both Bull and him knew, he could walk away whenever he wanted. He just didn't want it.

Bull's gaze rested on the Dog next to Ryder. Curious, that Hank let Ryder train the newbie. Quite the investment into someone who'd be obliterated. He watched the new Dog with a glint of lazy interest. Big, just like Bull himself. Lot slimmer around the waist, though. Built to be not only strong, but pretty, too. He was younger than Bull, but far older than the usual fresh meat they'd throw on the market.

And obviously pumped on drugs. Bull smirked and gestured at his trainer. Well then. He'd match that. His trainer raced to his side with a drinking bottle. Filled with the good juice. Bull took a big gulp. "What's that guy's story?"

"They call him the Beast. Runaway WRU they found on the trash and built up again."

"Guessed as much."

"There's more though. Something you should know."

"Hm?"

"Bait's his girlfriend."

Bull chuckled. "Pathetic. Dogs don't do relationships."  "Maybe he's an unusual one. He's going to want to defend her."

Bull watched the pet from hard eyes. "I'll keep him alive then. Let him watch."

The trainer tilted his head, but his reply was drowned out in booming music, tuning over into an announcement.

“Ladies and gentlemen! We have a great line up for you tonight, so get those bets in and let’s get this show on the road!”

The new Dog startled at the noise and the following roar of the crowd.

Bull chuckled half to himself. This would be easy. Still. He could make it easier still.

"Where is that prize?" Bull asked, over the cheer of the audience, unfazed by the noise. It would grow a lot louder, when he came up, later. "Get her here. Pay someone if you must. Gonna push some buttons before we're on."

His glance followed the trainer, wandering over the spectators, who cheered as the first fighters of the day were let down into the ring.

There he was, the ring's manager, Hank, standing next to his boss in the first row.

By their side, kept on a short leash, knelt a young woman in a tight black catsuit, her face pressed against Hank's leg.

From the distance, Bull saw Hank shake his head. His boss put a hand on Hank's arm, saying something into his ear, that caused Hank to lift his arm and throw an with an indignant gesture at Bull.

Bull grinned. He always got what he wanted. He made the money tonight, after all.

It was thrilling, to see the bristling Hank stomp towards him, the bait dragged behind him, struggling to keep his pace as she crawled on all fours.

The girl could've been conventionally attractive, Bull guessed, if that was what one was into. Tall, skinny, soft, cute little cat ears nestled in her short hair. She was also humiliated, terrified, and drugged just enough to make that terror plain obvious but render her unable to do anything. That certainly was something Bull was into. He smiled, flashing all his sharpened teeth.

"Don't do anything stupid, Bull." Hank kept the girl on a tight leash, as he arrived just on the other side of the cordon. It wasn't only rope keeping them in, though.

Circuits were embedded in the floor, that would set off the collar of any Dog who crossed it before the time for their fights. Bull knew precisely where these are, and how to avoid them when he sauntered towards her.

He grinned, ignoring Hank's speech.

He could swear the bait was shivering already.

"So, Kitty," he snarled instead, making sure the new guy overheard. "I hear you're used to taking Dog cock?"

It was enough already. From the side, he heard an animalistic roar, alarmed screams from the handlers.

The new guy was lunging forward, gnashing his teeth together, all but dragging the two handlers desperately trying to pull back his leash.

"Dany!" His voice was harsh and raw.

"Dany," Bull all but purred. "They give names to the fucktoys? What a waste."

"Beastie! Stay!" Ryder was running towards his charge.

"Catch poles! Get the catch poles-" Hank yelled orders at the handlers.

The commotion in the fighters' area had stirred the audience, enough for their attention to shift from the fight down in the pit to tonight's main contestants. Murmurs and laughter erupted, even a cheer or two for Bull.

He grinned, taking in his surroundings.

Hank had pushed himself between the Fighters and the girl.

Not far enough though.

At the other end of the area, the WRU pet had shaken off the handlers trying to pull him back and charged towards Bull, letting out a guttural roar.

Bull knew exactly where he could step, and his arms were long enough. His left arm pushed Hank away, his right wrapped around the girl's leash and yanked.

The whore wouldn't have been any match for him in any state. Drugged as she was, she all but fell right into his arms with a hoarse scream, just as he spun back towards the charging idiot, the girl pressed firmly against his front, right in the Beast's path.

The other stopped dead in his tracks, inches in front of them.

"Easy, buddy," Bull taunted. "We're not on yet."

It sounded like the fight had been interrupted down in the pit. All eyes were on them now. Perfect.

Bull fastened his hold of the fucktoy, acknowledging the press of her warm, tense body against his, her frantic heartbeat against his chest, that caused a pleasant stir in his groin. She'd be fun, later. He leaned in the slightest bit, licked a slow, long strip over her neck, making sure his sharpened teeth caught the light just right.

"You've fucked her before, too, haven't you? Don't you think I too deserve a taste of what I fight for?"

"Bull," Hank hissed. "Step down."

Bull ignored him easily. Hank would acknowledge the rustle of bills around him just as much as Bull did. And even if he didn't - Hank's own boss sure did. All attention was good attention.

The other Fighter took another slow, predatory step towards Bull.

Behind him catch poles were silently, hastily being snatched up. Fingers hovered over controllers. Nobody dared to make a move though. It seemed as if everyone held their breath.

Then, the wannabe-Beast lunged forward, eyes glaring with unbridled fury, his first crashing towards Bull's face.

He had no idea what he was getting himself into. Too bad for him that Bull did.

The bitch screamed, when the pet's fist came crashing towards her. Bull had to leave it to his opponent - he was fast. Good to know. No chance for Bull to wrestle his girl in the line of attack, just to throw himself back and dodge. The "Beast"'s fist brushed over Bull's cheek, but failed to fully connect.

Before he could even withdraw his arm, his eyes widened. His body spasmed. He fell over like a felled tree.

For the tight fracture of a second, Bull expected a shock of his own. None came. So he just watched his opponent crumble in front of him. The whore's heart against him was racing, her shiver a tantalizing distraction on Bull's skin. He gently lowered his mouth over her neck, pulse under his enforced teeth. Her breath stilled. As did the audience's.

"Intermission," the announcer's voice crackled over the speakers. "We've decided to interupt tonight's program, and pull forward our main fight. Please, refill your drinks, adjust your bets, and be ready to see Bull vs Beast, starting in no less than five minutes!"

Bull locked gaze with his Master, in the first row, slight panic in his eyes, gesturing for him to let go. Bull rolled his eyes. Idiot. As if Bull would risk disqualification like that.

He slowly pulled back from her neck, felt the tension of the audience dissolve, just like his Master's.

"I'll finish with you soon enough," he murmured into the whore's hair, loud enough for those spectators around him to brighten up in anticipation.

"Fighters, step back," another announcement cracked.

Bull nodded his head in faux deference and set the prize down to her feet, ready to toss her back to Hank.

Not without a little signature, though.

A slight twist of his arm was all it took.

He felt her bone shift under her skin, heard it crack, just as he let go of her with a swift push.

She landed in a heap in front of Hank's feet, screaming in pain.

The audience slowly retreated, ushered back by Hank's security. Handlers rushed in to look after Hank's sorry ruffled Beastie, already sitting up, pale from the shock's aftermath, rendered unable to do anything but growl. What a throwback for the upcoming fight these shocks would prove to be.

Bull's own trainer appeared by his side with a bag of ice for his face, and he reached out to take it.  His gaze rested on Hank though, and he relished the way the manager's lip formed an asshole. He'd never say it out loud, though. Hank knew where his boss' money came from.

And so he seethed in furious silence as he signalled for a medic to look after his pathetic fucktoy's broken arm.

"Waste of time," Bull mouthed, grinning at Hank and lifting a finger to draw a line across his throat. "She's done. They both are." 

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#fighting ring arc #Dany Hammond #B the guard dog #threat of noncon #forced to fight #some humiliation #and dehumanisation

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