#baaaaaa

I went overboard with this lol I hope you enjoy anon, I actually have had several reqs for more lambgirl/Scara content bc apparently you guys really liked that one which was a pleasant surprise lol. I love the dynamic between an extremely airheaded, absent-minded dumbass that just wants to be loved like a lambgirl and someone of Scara's personality, it works so well and comically at the same time.

Also me? Making something that actually ends kind of sweet? More likely than you think!

Also also "do sheep have heats" is now present in my google search history

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It's no wonder most cultures made shepherding a full-time job, if you don’t watch them, sheep will find a way to get themselves killed. They're clumsy, clunky, tend to knock things over, and generally just kinda zone out half the time, staring off into space. That being said, they can be clingy, actually, if they know you well enough, they'll just kinda go wherever you go, munching on what they can all the while. Nonetheless, lambs are very loving and can be super affectionate, no matter what -- again, simple minded. Their brain merely knows, this person is my master, and I love my master! That's all they need to know. And sheep hybrids are no different.

For poor Scara's lambgirl, he'd never admit that he likes that about you, but he subtly... encourages your tendencies. He sees it as your nature... a simple creature that knows who it belongs to and doesn't question it, only follows behind loyally, and really, that's the way things should be. So he doesn't ever discourage you from following, it comes naturally to little lambgirl -- when he stands up, you do too, and follow behind without a word, although he'll gesture, which is how you get a lot of communication. And when you do follow, he doesn't snap at you the way he does when you don't, so you know that it's the right thing, what you're supposed to do.

Because also, sometimes your poor, poor dumb little mind can forget a lot of words. It's a known trait about lamb hybrids, and yet another reason why people tend to neglect their kind -- they sometimes revert to the most simple of states, becoming nonverbal, and may struggle to understand words, and take time to process them. For someone who, according to that one Fatui agent, doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut, he actually adjusts to the nonverbal fairly easily, view it as a good thing that you have synched so well to what's expected.

It's all standard for humans, but you know without ever being taught, you can sense what he wants. Despite the apathetic facial expressions and lack of even looking at you, you know, a little "come hither" gesture of the finger tells you to get closer, a pat to the thigh means to sit on his lap, a thumb on your lips and and a lazy downward nod means get on the floor and suck him off. You learn quickly, you're proud of yourself for doing so.

And little lambs are, best of all, so dumb they have no idea when they're being blatantly manipulated, or Pavlov'ed, in such a direct and obvious way that not even the dumbest of hybrids besides them would fall for it. He likes that about you. The only thing he likes more than that, that heavily ties into that... is that lambs crave affirmation, affection, praise. Lambs love, and they want to feel loved, they'll do anything for it. So he makes you scramble and bend over backwards for the very, very, very rare occurance that is a word of praise (if it can be called that -- it's usually more like a backhanded compliment), or an affectionate gesture. And he uses the inverse -- cold neglect -- to manipulate and condition you.

Which is easy -- you see, in your... limited intellectual capacity, two words have supreme ruling over your self-esteem and your entire emotional state: good and bad. More complex words don't have quite the impact as those two, since you understand good and bad as very simple concepts, the rest you kind of have to think about, and thinking is not your strong suit. "Good" and "bad" have obvious, easy to grasp, powerful meanings to you, and a significant impact. So he makes use of those words quite a bit -- the way your face lights up and your ears perk up when he tells you you've been good, and the way your eyes fill with little tears and your ears fall flat against your head when he snarls that you're bad. You don't want to be a bad lamb, do you? No, you want to be good. Master calling you good is the highest honor, the greatest pride your brain can conceive of, and you work day in and day out to earn it. So when you've been bad, and are told to sleep on the floor, sit on the floor by his feet, when you get no pats to the head or fingers absent-mindedly running through the wool of your ears -- when you're deprived of touch, affection -- it's cruel and hurts in the deepest of ways. And likewise, earning that privilege back, being told you can sleep in the bed again, sit on his lap again, when you get the touches back, it fills you with joy, even if he tells you the little bleats of happiness are annoying. He treats it like a privilege too -- you've learned your lesson, he says, so he thinks he can stand the sight of you again enough to let you back to being closer.

And corporeal punishment is the only form of behavior enforcement you understand, so it's a given that he goes overboard with it -- gets you to associate it with bad. Good lambgirls get crumbs of affection, rare words of slight praise, bad lambgirls get bent over the desk and belted so hard they can't sit right. Again, you want to be good, and the physical pain is just there to remind you why. He also likes to grab you by the tail -- it's obnoxious, he says, always twitching and wiggling, and he gets some entertainment out of catching you off-guard and making you let out those shrill little baa's of surprise.

All that being said, lambs are... easily distracted. Lambgirl darling's fuzzy little ears perk up over a sound off in the distance, and while he's not looking you end up wandering down the hall of the big, maze-like Fatui building... you never find the source, but suddenly you find yourself very lost and very alone without Master and you panic, sniffling as tears come rolling down your face and bleating in distress, desperately trying to find your way back, eventually crumbling to the floor and just bleating all the while. It's through that bleating he eventually finds you, or perhaps you draw the attention of others who then come inform him where you are -- furious at your disappearance and being made to waste time looking for you, but even he of all people can't quite bring himself to kick you when you're down, so to speak -- you're already blubbering and crying and you come running to him once you see him, so he just barks at you about how stupid you were, how you made him waste his time, how you should feel lucky he even bothered coming to look for you.

He wouldn't tell you how badly he panicked when he looked up and you weren't there, mind running over all the possible ways your dumbass might have gotten yourself hurt in such a short time. And the other agents know better than to let you in on how he more or less summoned the entire present forces to demand they drop everything they were doing and search until you were found. He just insists that your collar needs a cowbell, one that's loud and clear that will signal when you're moving. Next time you get distracted, he'll hear the cowbell rattle when you stand up, and snap at you to sit your ass back down or else.

And speaking of the others, most of the time he's never certain when someone is going to come barging in, since half of these worthless dimwits, as he calls the people he works with, don't think to knock. You two once learned that the hard way and now you have to lock the door before you blow him at work. In front of other people, he's definitely not going to show you the slightest bit of attention, and avoids it at work in general, but occasionally allows you a headpat here or there. You seem to really like those, he thinks. Your little eyes close and you tilt your head, longingly leaning into the touch. It's your instinct.

And archons help anyone that dares harm or even insult you in any way. You're occasionally, as aforementioned on the hybrid post, allowed to run errands or perform simple tasks for others. You've fucked up a lot, actually, but he only tells you you fucked up if it's a task or assignment for him. If it's with other people, regardless of whether you performed the task correctly or not, he says it was good. This has... not resulted in good things for some of the other members. You hand them something blatantly wrong or clearly made an error, and they open their mouth to chastise you, but stop short at the death glare sent their direction -- he mutters that you did good, rubs your head... and adds a right? to the end of it, looking up at the poor victim of your forgetfulness. Adds through gritted teeth to "tell her she did a good job you dumbfuck." And they always do. You're happy to have earned the approval of the others, they're all really nice to you, for some reason, even though they look oddly nervous when they're talking to you. When they come to him later in private to complain because there was a serious mistake that will cost them time and money, they're just met with an apathetic "Deal with it."

He doesn't let anyone have supervision over you, though, not anymore. In the beginning, he used to every now and then, when he had something important to do, tell some subordinate to watch you in his absence. Can't have you running off. They never watched you very closely, though, and one time you got too curious and rummaged through various things and shelves and objects and, well, you overturned a shelf that came crashing down on you -- cut you badly, broke a bone, and the guy in charge of watching you had decided to go waste time elsewhere, and so by the time Master got back, you were still there on the floor, trapped under it, sniffling and crying and letting out the most pathetic and soft of bleats, whimpering Master over and over. You don't remember much after it was pulled off of you, there was yelling and clanging as objects were being hurled across the room, but you never saw that other agent again. And now, he never leaves you under someone else's care.

Behind closed doors -- in the comfort of living quarters -- he's still... himself, but not quite as mean. The rubs are longer, the praise feels more like actual praise. When you go to bed at night, provided you've earned your right to sleep beside him, you might summon the courage to ask how you were today -- a careful question, with only two possible answers that you could understand, but your spirit will be uplifted or shattered by the response, so it weighs heavily on you, as you spend every waking moment aiming for one answer. He'll act irritated that you'd ask, it's a stupid question, but that's expected coming from a stupid creature, he says. But nonetheless he'll reassure you, in an agitated mutter that, at least for today, you were good. Maybe one day, a little lambgirl can only dream, your master might even say he loves you.

You think about that a lot when you're getting fucked, because sex is a part of love, right? Maybe you're working towards that, so you give it your all, you ride well and suck well and do every little thing you're commanded to do. Even when the ropes and clamps and the hands on your throat hurt. In fact, you think you've started to like it. Your body has started to respond to the pain, your insides clench at the thought. You feel bad about the heats, since you're wasting Master's time, but as he says, someone has to take care of you (which isn't true, you think -- he could just leave you to suffer. Maybe he doesn't know that? Surely if he knew that he wouldn't waste time taking care of you, right?). Sheep heats last quite a while, too, and you feel bad for being so lewd, bleating with your ass up in the air and whimpering, but he doesn't seem to hate it too much, since he fucks you throughout it, even takes a few days to do work from home. Grabs onto your big wooly ears like handlebars and fucks into you from behind. He says the bleating is annoying... but when you tried to hold it back, he told you he didn't say you could stop. You don't want to annoy him, but you don't want to do something you weren't told to, either... whatever earns his love.

Yes, you want to be loved. But could you ever earn such a thing? Do you deserve it? Could you ever deserve it? You're not sure. Master's love seems like such an honor, such a wonderful thing it would be unreal. That's why, when you finally summon the courage to ask, for once your brain works in a rather complex, roundabout sort of way. When you sit up in the middle of the night and nudge him awake, hovering over him in the dark, you don't ask if he loves you, instead you ask do you think could you ever love me? It's the most complex thought you've ever had, probably, because you know you're too afraid of rejection to ask outright, and this way he's more likely to say yes, and even if he doesn't love you now, a "yes" means you can work towards it, right?