#baitposting

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.”

Since I don't know literally anything about mechs OR the whole "warhound" thing (i suppose it's some kinda book?) and my only expertise is evangelion and Warhammer 40k, please don't look for logic in these.

→ WIP

• he's one of the most calm hounds (pilots, will be used interchangeably since idk and idc). Always quiet and really, really obedient. He doesn't even need one of those obedience drugs they give all the other hounds in the facility. He's just so perfect for it. So he's always used as an example. Which... Causes him to have a massive ego. As much as a hound can posess an ego at all, he's really proud of himself.

• this all also causes him to be REALLY sensitive to praise. Since he doesn't really get scolded much (he's got a fixation on numbers. After each fight Robert is the first to check the leaderboard. For sure his name is right at the top, with all the regalia displayed besides. And a ridiculously high efficiency/battlepower/kill count.) but when he does get scolded he just shuts down. When some other hound can lash out and attempt to bite it's handler (or whatever hounds do, idk) Robert just... Sits there. He doesn't cry, of course, all emotions have been surely eradicated through years of conditioning, but the deep feeling of inadequacy remains. And don't even mention having his name at the #2 spot on the leaderboard. It's his worst nightmare.

• he's one of the pilots who always chills with the maintenance folks down in the hangars. He can surely do everything himself at this point, but he's just a pilot. He isn't allowed to do that. And he can't do that. (He can but shhhh)

But when he's alone he sticks his fingers inside the parts he can reach and caresses the cold smooth metal. Sometimes he sniffs the oil. (He's always spacey after, because aside from oil he huffs every single solvent and liquid he can find. He's a hound after all, has a sensitive nose. Plus it just feels good.)

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.

She also quite frankly… doesn’t look like the type to work with student’s anxiety. She wears big leather boots, that I have to assume she got during her mandated service, likely combat given her facial scarring. Also she’s constantly draped in a long black overcoat with some metal almost-armor on the shoulders.

She’s helpful with my schoolwork when I get distracted, though, and every time someone gives the two of us a weird look she glares at them and they shrink away. She also likes to listen to me ramble on about mechs! She pats my head and it feels really good whenever the asks me a question about tactics and I come up with a good answer.