Not A Statistical Anomaly

This is an RP comedy blog in the Mechsploitation genre.

Pronouns are she/her.

Asks are open.

A woman in black shoves me against an alley wall, leather-gloved hand over my mouth. She’s bigger than me, simply keeping me there by the press of her body as her other hand gropes and toys with me.

“You’re gonna make such a good dog…”

As I feel a prick in my side, and the world starts fading. ‘I won’t make it to my next class’, is the last thing that goes through my mind as she pushes my stumbling body into her car.

So where I live our hounds are less disposable and less… human. Basically all of them have had their skulls de-lidded to install a neural interface helm, and most of them don’t still have their eyes. That’s ignoring all the other augments and cybernetics often installed. Our handlers keep the hound pointing in the right direction and make sure they stay calm and sane with all their augments and meds.

The presentation with the hound was limited to a smaller number of people due to all the waivers, and because overwhelming a hound in a public space would… be bad.

Anyways, a small number of students that included me showed up in basically a gymnasium at the designated time and signed all the waivers.

The handler and hound were… REALLY cool. It seemed like a few other people were uncomfortable, but mostly they left early. A lot of it was the hound showing off and relaxing with its handler while the handler talked about the program. A couple people left after the hound snapped at them for getting too close to it or it’s handler. Near the end, we were given the opportunity to feed the hound from our hands.

This hound had omnicameras, but I swear it was staring me dead in the eyes as it grabbed the nutricube off my hand with sharp teeth, and threaded a long tongue through my fingers to grab the crumbs. It dutifully ate off the other student’s hands, but then it went back to staring at me while its handler talked.

It took about ten seconds for it to decide on something. We were strongly advised to let the hound do what it wanted if it decided to do something strange, so when it picked me up, I froze. Its limbs were like solid iron, and I could tell it was putting in effort to not claw me as it unceremoniously dumped me in the lap of its handler.

They, the handler, honestly looked like they had seen this before. They were sitting on a gym mat with the group arranged in a circle. Everyone else was clearly startled, not sure what to do, but looking at the handler’s calm face.

“It thinks you’re a packmate. Just… lay there, you’ll be fine.” The handler spoke as if this was normal. I was laying in… a quite compromising position, my head was on the handler’s thigh, facing towards their crotch. My body was laid between their legs, with my knees towards my chest. Everyone was definitely staring. “Hey, just relax, you’re okay.” The handler gently pet my hair. “You’re doing such a good job.” I don’t think the hound was the only one who thought I was a packmate, but I hate how well that worked for calming me down.

The handler kept answering questions as if nothing happened. They… smelled really good >\\\\<. I wasn’t really listening anymore. Their hand absentmindedly carded through my hair. The hound eventually got bored and flopped down next to its handler. And right next to me.

“Awwww.” The handler cooed as they scratched under their hound’s chin. The hound ran hot, I could feel it as a heavy arm draped over me and it got comfortable next to its handler.

I was pinned. “Just relax. You don’t have to worry.” Handler cooed at the two of us. I swear that hound was proud of itself. I felt the other gazes start to ignore me again. My blush must have been thermonuclear. Fuck, my face was right against Handler’s crotch.

I laid there for what felt like hours. At some point the hound started… purring? It made a soft rumble of satisfaction.

I must have fallen asleep there. When I awoke, everyone but Handler and the hound was gone. “Cmon, time to get up.” The hound was on its feet in a flash of whining servos. Handler sounded like they were smiling. I groaned, blinking heavily as I regained consciousness.

“Oh, fuck.”

He always has this proud smile while I lean on him, he gently pats my back often, and I swear I’ve heard him calling me a good girl before >\\\\<.

good news, I got the ammo back.

bad/good news, when I went over to get the ammo, the hound was staring at me and blushing.

now what lmao-

Well, the hound likes you. And wanted to get your attention. Maybe you should ask your handler to coordinate a sortie together? Or, we’ll, it’s not exactly a secret what hounds get up to off duty.

Not that I spend any time thinking about that! Two weapons engaging in… relations absolutely holds no interest for me.