CW: institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe, pet whump

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When the alarm rang out Lydia blearily fumbled for her phone. She tried to make it shut up before waking their unfamiliar roommates. As quietly as possible, she rolled out of bed. Lydia had slept fitfully and way too few hours. She could feel the tiredness lurking like a pressure behind her eyes.

Coriander, of course, already sat up in his bed. She went to sit down next to him and gave him a quick hug.

“Good Morning.” She smiled. “Remember what we talked about?”

He nodded, his eyes bright and awake. “T-the hotel staff will escort this pet to the check-in for human pets. We will meet on the plane.”

Lydia quickly got dressed and nodded affirmatively.

“Yes. You should get some more sleep. I will have to go now to leave the car at the rental firm, we’ll go through check-in separately, and be seated next to each other on the plane.” She put her hand on his cheek, feeling him lean into the touch. As always, she wondered if it was compulsion or volition that made him do it, but his grey eyes on her face were wide and trusting. “Are you sure you are okay with this? I tried to make them let us go through together, but they said that it is against security protocols.”

“This pet w-will be all right, Miss Lydia.” He smiled, bravely. “It will see you in a few hours.”

She gave him another hug and stood up to go. Glancing back when she closed the door, he had laid back down but was still watching her. She blew him a kiss, closed the door and walked away.

*

Coriander tried to take deep breaths and force its muscles to relax, but the deep shivering that had started as soon as the pet was led into the room was impossible to control.

This isn’t the clinic. The pet reminded itself. This isn’t the clinic. But the walls were white tiles, the overhead lights were hash and there was a drain in the floor.

The middle-aged, curly haired woman holding the pet’s leash led it over to a padded chair that, with the restraints, looked too much like something that could have belonged in the facility.

This pet has to be good, Cory thought to itself, like a mantra. This pet has to be good for Miss Lydia. It hadn’t expected the check-in process to start already at the hotel. It thought that it would be transferred to the airport first. But as far as it could remember, it had never flown anywhere before. Who knew what transporting a pet by air would entail?

It forced its unwilling body down into the chair and allowed the woman to lock the cuffs around its wrists and ankles and clip the short leash on the headrest to its collar, rendering it effectively immobile.

Coriander could feel its heart race with fear, but tried to distract itself by looking around. The scents were different, equally artificial, but more like perfume than antiseptics. The table held bottles, hair brushes, and a fan. A stand on the wall held gleaming metal scissors and combs.

Suddenly, the backrest of the chair fell away behind the pet, forcing it into a prone position. Its breath hitching, it couldn’t stop itself from struggling at the restraints, but it was pinned like a bug in place. ‘You are a bad pet’, Coriander scolded itself, ‘good pets do not try to resist. Behave!’ But it needed a couple of deep breaths before it could force its tense muscles to relax.

“Did I scare you?” The woman’s voice behind it. “Sorry, I am just going to wash your hair now.”

This was strange and unexpected. Did they want to deflea it before it got to travel?

The woman’s touch was professional. Not exactly kind, but gentle and painless. The water was warm and the scents of the shampoo and conditioner chemically floral, and reassuringly not antiseptic. Coriander could feel itself starting to relax under her hands.

The woman talked while she worked, but she didn’t seem to expect much in terms of replies. She mostly talked about the awful weather, things on the news, and a small trip she was planning for the weekend. It was soothing and Coriander found it easy to be still and obedient.

The process involved trimming and blow-drying its hair, cleaning and trimming its nails and giving the pet a shave. She was using a safety razor rather than a blade, but Cory could still feel every muscle tense at the sharp tool near its throat.

“That’s it.” The woman said. “You’re done. Liam here will take you to your owner.”

Following behind the young man holding its leash, still confused about the whole process, Cory could hear the commotion all the way down the corridor.

“I’m sorry, but I just returned to find my room empty. Where is my pet?” The man- Linden- sounded upset.

“Sir, as the night staff told you yesterday, pet grooming services were offered as compensation for the trouble with your room. The staff has just taken your pet to be groomed. It will be brought right back to your room as soon as they are finished. Oh, look!” The relief was palpable in the receptionist’s voice. “Here’s your pet now, safe and sound.”

The staff member leading Coriander stepped aside, revealing the complaining customer to be the man from last night, the owner with whom Miss Lydia and Coriander had shared a room. They just stared mutely at each other for a moment, dark brown eyes meeting grey.

The man shook his head quickly, his mane of dark hair flowing around his face.

“This is not my pet.”

*

“I don’t really like flying.” Lydia admitted to the middle-aged man sitting next to the window. “It is bad for the environment, and cramped and uncomfortable, too. But we didn’t really have an option this time. Next time I’m taking the train.” She rummaged around for chewing gum in her hand bag when the flight attendant approached her.

“Here’s your pet, Ma’am. Since we are in the air, it may stay with you now.”

“Oh, very good, thank you so m…” Lydia broke off. The pet nervously following along on a leather leash was not Coriander at all. It was the strange pet from last night. It looked absolutely terrified to see her.

“I’m sorry, but this is not my pet!” Lydia waved her half of a paper tag with the number. “Here’s my tag.”

The flight attendant grabbed the pet’s limp arm to show off the paper bracelet on his wrist. “It is the same number, Ma’am.”

“But this is not my pet.” Lydia started to feel her heart beat faster, a bit of ice in her veins. “Where are the other pets on this flight?”

“This is the only pet on this flight, Ma’am. It was delivered straight to the airport from your hotel.”

“Are you telling me that the hotel has mixed up my pet with this one?” Lydia could see the strange pet cringing away from the chill in her voice. It looked like it might start to cry at any moment. Even though she was truly worried about Coriander, she felt sorry for this pet, as well. Reluctantly, she reached out to receive the loop of the leash that the flight attendant tried to hand over to her. “I will have to try to solve this when we arrive.” She told the flight attendant. “Thank you.”

To the pet, she said. “Have a seat. Your name is Colton, right dear?”

*

The pet groomer part owes a lot of inspiration to this great post by @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi Thank you!

*

- “Do you want it?” Whumpee almost whined at the sight of the food in whumper’s hand and they nodded eagerly. “What do good pets do for food?” Whumpee crawled forward and perched on their ankles in front of whumper, gently butting whumper’s thigh with their forehead.

At the minor motion whumper made with their fingers, whumpee fell to the ground and rolled onto their back, arms bent at their sides to prop up beside their chest. 

“Mm, good pet,” Whumper crooned and nudged their shoulder with their foot. “Sit up again, let me take off your muzzle.” The click of the clasp opening made whumpee’s eyes light up, and whumper watched as they shifted their mouth, loosening their jaw as the bit was removed. 

CW: institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe

Next

Miss Lydia tore open the envelope with one eager motion. “It is here!” She held up the thick, cream-coloured card with shiny silver lettering for the pet to see. “It is our invitation to this big international book fair. It is my turn to go this year! And yours, if you want to. Carla went last year.”

She grinned at Coriander. “We’ll have a stand for a day, and I’ll be in a bunch of panels and scout for new books and new themes to bring to our shop. It's a lot of work but it is loads of fun, too. And a lot of hobnobbing with upcoming authors and agents and publishing houses. People from other bookshops and libraries will also be there. It is a nice city, too. Lots of nice coffee shops and lovely walks and things to see.”

She frowned. “We have to fly this year. I usually prefer to take the train, but this time there’s no way we’ll have time since we also have the regional book fair just before.”

She looked over at Cory, lowering the pitch of her voice, turning more serious.

“Do you want to go? I am really excited about this and it would be awesome if we could go together.” She looked earnestly at the pet. “I don’t want you to feel that it’s too much, though. It is honestly all right if you don’t want to come. If so, you could stay with Indira or Carla while I’m away. I will not be angry, promise!”

Cory took a deep breath. She wanted the pet to express a preference. ‘I want whatever you want, Miss. Whatever you say, your wish is my command.’ The correct reply was on its tongue, it would be so easy to say it, to play it safe, to be good.

But Miss Lydia had said that she wanted to know what the pet thought. With another deep breath, it made up its mind.

“This pet would-wouldn’t mind staying with either Miss Indira or Miss Carla.” Coriander said, honestly. ”B-but if you want it to come, it would like to go with you, Miss.”

The pet did feel slightly nervous, but as long as Miss Lydia was there, everything would be fine.

Lydia and Coriander

Set in the Box Boy Universe, a broken man arrives on Lydia Winterthorpe’s doorstep. Will she and her friends be able to help Coriander regain his sense of self? Pet whump with a strong focus on recovery.

3. Lydia and Coriander: ongoing

2. Lost Property - a collaboration with @whumpzone

1. Lydia and Coriander: A new home

In enemy hands

A villain with a powerful talent is severely injured and captured by his enemies. Things aren’t always as they seem. Hero vs Villain.

In enemy hands

Miscellaneous Writing

Assorted writing. Reading recommendations, etc.

Miscellaneous Writing

CW: institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe

“Hm!”

Brutus stepped out in front of Lydia with a deep-throated sound somewhere between a harrumph and a growl.

A young teenage boy was barrelling towards them. He looked back over his shoulder, joking with his mates. He didn’t notice that he was on a collision course until he bounced off Brutus’ broad chest. The guard dog was glaring down at him.

“Um… sorry?” The boy volunteered nervously.

“Thank you, Brutus.” Lydia said lightly. “It is all fine now.” She stepped up to his side, taking his arm with a smile.

The guard dog blinked down at her, surprise writ large all over his face. His stance changing from threatening to humble, almost cowering. The boy took the chance to scram.

“Well done.” Lydia said. “That was very helpful.” The muscular man gave her a hesitant smile and puffed out his chest in pride. Lydia had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. That could have been a disaster, but all went well. It was funny, watching Brutus, he was so expressive with his body language. Just like Cory.

Looking over at Coriander, he illustrated her point, looking completely crestfallen. When he noticed her looking at him, he quickly rearranged his features to a neutral expression. On a guess, Lydia handed her basket to Brutus and reached out her free arm to Coriander.

“Come on, Cory.”

With a quick step, he was at her side and offered his arm. Walking between them, arm in arm, Lydia surreptitiously glanced at Cory a while later, and noticed with satisfaction that he was smiling a little to himself.

It was a beautiful, blue sky day. The trees had begun shifting their colours into brilliant red and yellow and there was a little bit of a bite in the air.

Lydia congratulated herself for choosing to wear her thick, grey sweater with a white pattern and her fuchsia pink scarf. Cory had a dark red sweater with a blue scarf and Brutus his leather jacket. Wayland hadn’t sent him a scarf, so Lydia had lent him a green one. The fluffy scarf clashed with the guard dog’s kind of severe outfit, but he had accepted it gratefully. As far as Lydia was concerned, warm was better than stylish.

“Do you guys feel warm enough?” She asked. Both Cory and Brutus nodded.

There was a lot of people milling around under the trees next to the lake. Market stalls with awnings in a mishmash of green, blue, red, yellow and white snaked around the path and prospective shoppers wandered around looking at the wares on offer.

“If you want to buy anything, just let me know.” Lydia said, knowing as she said it that it was extremely unlikely that either of them would ask. Instead, she opened her purse and gave them each a bill. “Here, you can buy whatever you want with this, okay?”

Overlaying the fresh autumn air was the scents of the market. Someone was selling freshly smoked fish, there was a wood fire burning. There was bread baking, sausages frying and a waft of red curry from a food stall. They passed a stall selling a myriad of scented candles, some of their candles lit to demonstrate.

Some stalls sold multicoloured sweets or piles of carrots, cabbages and beetroots. Others had colourful jars of jam or pickled vegetables and bottles of berry and fruit cordials gleaming in the sun. Some displayed knitted mittens, hats and scarves in all colours of the rainbow. One woman was selling pots of chrysanthemums, rows of flowers in shades of lilac, red, white and yellow.

All three of them stared in fascination at some bees busy in a glass hive next to a stall selling locally produced honey.

Lydia stopped to buy three small glass bottles of fresh apple cider from this years harvest. At another stall she picked up some pastries filled with spinach and feta cheese and lastly, a paper bag filled with still warm jam-filled doughnuts.

Leading the way into the park, she stopped next to a maple tree that had begun switching its leaves into a vibrant orange, but that still had plenty of green leaves too. The spot overlooked both the lake and the busy market.

“Thank you, Brutus.” She took back her basket from the guard dog and took out the green-and-blue checkered picnic blanket. “Could you help me spread it out?”

Lydia sat down on the blanket and started to unpack the basket, her new purchases, some fruit, cheese and sandwiches brought from home, cutlery and glasses for the cider.

“Have a seat.” she told the two pets. “Let’s have some food.”

Brutus looked uncertainty to Cory for reassurance. Eating next to her, did his mistress really mean that they were supposed to do that? Coriander, who already had been through this a number of times before, nodded. He knelt down on the blanket and slowly, the guard dog followed suit.

Brutus had slowly relaxed his refusal to eat during the days that had passed. Lydia still had to hand him the food, but he was all right with eating it for himself now.

The food was lovely, the sun still warm and the hubbub of the market a colourful spectacle pleasant to watch from a distance.

After eating, Lydia amused herself with braiding a daisy chain with daisies scattered around in the grass. Cory and Brutus watched her with interest, and with some encouragement from her side, all three of them soon had flower crowns of tightly braided daisies.

It was so cute! She took a photo of both the pets, and a selfie with all three of them, debated sending it to Ceci and Wayland, but just kept it for herself instead.

“I brought us books.” She told them. “If you want to, we could stay here and read for a while in the grass. Cory, here’s yours.”

She had offered him the book a few days before Brutus came, the first time she offered Cory a particular book. Earlier, she had just told him to pick any book he wanted, to no avail.

Lydia had agonised over the choice. She felt that Coriander was in such a fragile state of mind, that she didn’t want to give him a book that could scare him or expose him to something that would make him feel bad. But would it be insulting to offer him a book for children, as if she thought his mind was too simple to grasp the complexities of a more grown up book?

Finally, she had settled on offering him ‘The little white horse’ by Elizabeth Goudge. The book seemed like a safe choice, exciting, but not scary, magical, with no real world connection and a hopeful ending. It did feel dated, in some ways, but she thought that Cory wouldn’t mind. So far, he had been reading it and she hoped it meant that he liked it.

“How about you, Brutus?” She asked. “I brought a few books for you, but I know that not all pets read. Do you know how to read?”

“No, Ma’am.” The guard dog said, shamefaced. “I can read signs and short instructions, but there is no need for me to read longer texts.”

Lydia, slightly regretfully, put down her own portal to galaxies and peoples far away. Luckily, she had anticipated this.

“I brought a book of fairytales from around the world. If you want, I could read out-loud to you - and to Cory too, if he wants.” She smiled. “Fairytales are for adults too, even if we often think they are only for children. There’s a lot of wisdom hidden in them.”

“I… I would like that, Ma’am.”

*

Sometime later Coriander gathered its courage to ask.

“Miss Lydia, t-this pet would like to buy something from the market. Would it be all right for it to do it by itself?”

Its mistress had looked at it, radiant with surprise and joy.

“Yes!” She had said. “Of course. We will be right here, take as much time as you want.”

It was strange how its mistress seemed to like when it asked for things.

The pet had decided that it wanted to buy a gift for her. After purchasing a deep purple chrysanthemum in a plastic pot, the pet returned back though the market.

Coriander reflected that its mistress had been looking kind of sadly at the pet every now and then during the day. At first it was wondering whether she was comparing the pet to Brutus and thinking that she would have preferred to own him instead.

But she was touching Cory a lot, in nice ways, that didn’t hurt. She petted the pet over the hair, putting a hand on its arm, holding its hand, even, once. Miss Lydia was often touching it, but this seemed more than usual. Almost as if she wanted to reassure herself that the pet was really there.

The pet worried a little, but decided that masters’ ways sometimes were inscrutable. It should just enjoy the extra attention it got from its mistress.

It was a lovely day out.

*

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CW: disordered eating, institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe

“Brutus, come here, please.”

The muscular man kneeled obediently down on the pillow she had placed in front of her chair.

Brutus clasped his hands nervously in his lap. A tiny movement that the guard dog couldn’t quite suppress. It made the muscles dance beneath his tattoos - the regular WRU barcode on one underarm, a riot of flower petals in red and white on the other. He watched her warily.

Lydia took a bowl from the table and steeled herself.

“This is what your master told me to do, Brutus, do you understand?”

He nodded, fear in his eyes. “I understand, Ma’am.”

“And your master told you to obey me, right?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

She forced a smile. “That’s good. Now, please open your mouth.”

He opened his mouth wide and held absolutely still as she took a piece of cucumber from the bowl and carefully put it into his mouth. He held it on his tongue, his eyes flickering fearfully over her face.

“Please close your mouth, chew and swallow the food.”

He started to shake his head, pleading, terrified eyes meeting her own. Lydia hardened her heart, privately cursing Wayland Jones for being such a neglectful bastard.

“That is an order, Brutus. Do as I say.”

He did. Slowly and hesitantly, he chewed and, with effort, swallowed the piece of cucumber. Afterwards, he looked at her with a mixture of apprehension and relief, as if he had expected her to have hidden a razor inside the vegetable.

“That is very good, Brutus.” She gave him a more honest smile. “You are being very good, obeying both your master’s orders and mine. Well done.” She could see some of the tension leaving his shoulders at the praise. “Now, please open your mouth again.”

This time, she popped a piece of potato into his mouth. He held still, his eyes expectant on her, less fearful now. His expression forcefully reminded her of a dog balancing a treat on its nose, waiting for the permission to grab it. “Please chew and swallow it, Brutus.”

She continued to feed the man with bite-sized morsels of vegetables, potatoes and falafel, interspersed with sips of water. She could see his shoulders relax more and more, after a while, he even smiled faintly at the praise. Deciding to take a risk, Lydia said.

“So, do you think you could eat the rest of the food on your own?”

His whole body jerked, he couldn’t hold back a dog-like whine. “Ma’am, I must not…. I cannot… it is forbidden to...” He shook his head forcefully from side to side.

“Okay, okay. Don’t worry.” She held up her hand. “Look at me. Your master told you to obey me, and you are a good boy for doing so. Okay?”

The guard dog nodded slowly, hopeful eyes on her.

“So,” Lydia said, “Open your mouth.”

She continued to feed him, intensely aware that he was not able to say no, and careful not to give him too much.

“That was very well done, Brutus.” She said, feeling uncomfortable with her own bright voice and the fact that she was talking with him like with a child or an animal rather than the grown man that he was. It seemed to work well, though. Lydia told herself that that was the most important thing. Cecilia’s warning sharp in her mind.

“I don’t know if you are going to like this, but it usually makes Cory feel better, so let’s try. Come with me to the living room.”

The guard dog was so much larger than Coriander, not that much taller, but wider and more muscular, that it felt strange to try to fit him on the sofa. Still, Brutus obediently curled up next to her, and when she asked him to, he laid his head into her lap and let her spread a blanket over him. He also seemed to find the whole situation strange, every now and then glancing up at her with a kind of confused surprise. She hesitated, but then started to pet his thick, dark hair, it felt coarse underneath her hand compared with Coriander’s silky tresses. Bit by bit, she could feel his whole body relax.

Like with Cory, it was impossible to tell whether Brutus actually enjoyed the contact, or if that was just the way he had been taught to react. Lydia reflected sadly that even though she was living with Coriander, it was like she hardly knew him. Where did the pet training end and where did the person begin?

For now, though, the guard dog had eaten and did not seem likely to make himself throw up the food at any moment. He was resting on the sofa, and she could keep an eye on him. She would take what she could get.

*

Coriander watched them from the hallway, careful not to reveal that the pet was there. This new pet got so much praise and attention from its mistress. She had never bothered to hand feed Cory like that, and now the guard dog had even got Coriander’s place on the sofa. Worry twisted the pet’s insides, of course Miss Lydia would prefer Brutus. But what would become of Coriander then?

CW: NSFW & Noncon mention, abuse mention, institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe

“No, that is not all right! That is, in fact, totally unacceptable. You have promised me the delivery and we have already agreed to accommodate your situation. Furthermore, we have already begun to advertise your products. What you are offering me now is not going to work.”

Silence.

“Yes. Please do that and get back to me as soon as possible. Thank you.”

Its mistress voice was so cold. It made the pet shiver, even though Coriander knew that the steely frost was not directed at the pet itself. It could hear her dialling a new number. ”Hi Carla, the bloody publishing house won’t deliver again! Yes, I know… yes, perhaps we could…”

The conversation faded into the background as Cory moved through the house. Miss Lydia was stressed. Work at the shop was hectic and there were so many things to arrange all the time. Those weeks she had taken off to care for this no-good pet probably didn’t help either… Even though Coriander tried to help out the best it could - and both Miss Lydia and Miss Carla praised it - it knew that they were too kind. It was slow and stupid and probably soon they would realise that they would be better off without it working there.

But pets had other uses, didn’t they? Coriander had for weeks been looking for an opportunity to prove how obedient and loyal a pet it was. Perhaps this was its chance?

It looked around the house. What would be suitable? Normally, it would always have had a cane, but Miss Lydia had thrown away the one that had been delivered by the WRU. She had thrown away the muzzle as well.

The pet lingered next to the poker in the fireplace. Perhaps..? But no, its mistress was a bit of a bleeding heart. She’d probably think that that was too much for a first time. Coriander snuck into her bedroom on its prowl through the house. There, inside her wardrobe. Perfect.

The leather belt was thin and light. It would leave beautiful, straight red lines all over the pets scarred back. Its mistress might enjoy that. It shuddered at the thought of the sharp, cutting pain, but clamped down the feeling. Pets needed to be useful to be kept. This was a good way to be useful.

Miss Lydia was sitting at her desk. Her face hidden in her hands. The pet kept the belt coiled behind its back as it quietly went and kneeled in front of her. Miss Lydia looked up and forced a smile. “Hi Cory, how are you doing?”

With a flourish, the pet presented the belt to her, holding it on upturned palms. She looked bewildered at it.

Oh right. Miss Lydia doesn’t know the first thing about owning a pet.

Coriander used to think that she was testing whether her pet knew the rules. Now, more and more, it realises that she is the one who needs to be taught.

“Miss Lydia, t-this pet has noticed that y-you are stressed.” It was so eager that it stumbled over the words. “This pet is here to help.” Appalled realisation had begun dawning over her face, but Cory pushed on. “Y-you can use this to hit your pet. M-most Masters do it and it is a healthy way to release stress and tension. Please, Miss Lydia, it is what this pet is for!”

She took the belt from the pet’s hands and it immediately begun pulling off its t-shirt. Miss Lydia stopped it with an outstretched hand.

“No. Wait.” The pet froze obediently in place. She opened a drawer in the desk, dropped the belt inside and closed the drawer. She took a deep breath.

“You are right that I am stressed. Thank you for noticing. But I will not hit you for it. It would not make me feel better. And even if it would make me feel better, it would be wrong to do so. Do you understand?” The pet looked helplessly back at her, it most certainly did not understand.

“B-but this is what pets are for.”

“It is definitely not what you are for. And Cory, I absolutely forbid you to offer anyone else to hit you, even if you think it might be good for them. That is an order. Do you understand that?”

“P-pet understands. Only mistress may hit this pet.”

She sighed. “That will do.”

Coriander fervently cast its thoughts about. This didn’t work. What else could it do? It steeled itself, but continued.

“Would Miss Lydia like to use this pet for sex?”

“Would I what?” She stared at him with startled brown eyes.

“T-this pet is not trained f-for it. But… but it has done it sometimes f-for previous master a-and mistress, a-and for other people. It… it could do it for you.”

“Oh Cory.” Pain and pity in her voice now. “I am so, so sorry that you had to go through that. But you and I will never have sex.”

Of course not.

“T-this pet is s-sorry for being so broken and u-ugly. Please forgive it, Miss Lydia. It - it was presumptuous.” It could feel tears in its eyes and lowered its head. Not even this was it good for.

“Oh, Cory. No!” She reached out and cupped its face in both of her hands, tilting its chin up to meet her eyes. “Listen to me. You are very handsome. If we had met in other circumstances, I would have been all over you. Honest.” She smiled. “And I am sure that there will be lots of other people in your future that will, if you want them to… But you and I could never have that kind of relationship, it would not be good for either of us. And besides, I can’t see you in that way.” She paused thoughtfully. “You could be my little brother, if you want?”

“Your little brother, Miss?”

She let go of its face and reached out to tousle its hair with a playful grin. “Yeah, I can totally see you like that. You should think about it, all right?”

The pet nodded, confused.

“I have a few things I need to finish up, so give me an hour. But if you want to join, we could go for a walk later?”

The pet left the room. Her little brother, huh? Its mistress was strange… but sweet. It guessed that meant she wanted to keep the pet around, anyway. Even if she didn’t want to use it like it should be used.

CW: needles, medical examination and treatment, non-con drug use, forced medication, panic and fear, institutionalised slavery, box boy universe, dehumanisation

“So, are you starting a meangeri?”

Indira gave Lydia a look over her shoulder, raising one dark eyebrow. She was washing her hands in the sink.

“Ha, ha, very funny.” Lydia leaned against the doorpost, her arms crossed. Her face pale and tired. “You know very well that he belongs to that dude that Cecilia got together with.”

“He seems like a real piece of work, from what you told me. Why are you wrapped up in this again?”

“When Ceci asked me, I didn’t want to say no. I also feel sorry for him. Brutus, that is. You should have seen him at the party. That was inhuman.”

“Okay, okay. Let’s go and have a look at this fighter of yours. How is Cory taking it?”

Lydia smiled, a smile that lit up her eyes.

“He has been wonderful! He was scared of Brutus at first, but now he has such a hand with him. I seriously don’t know what I would have done last night without him.”

Walking together out into the living room, they were met by the sight of the muscular man kneeling in front of the unlit fireplace. Cory was standing next to him, his fair hair and lithe build a sharp contrast to Brutus’ black locks and powerful physique. When the both women entered the room, Coriander also fell to his knees.

“Hi Cory!” Indira smiled at the young man. “Hello Brutus. My name is Dr. Indira Kumari. I would like to examine you, if that is all right?”

Brutus flicked his eyes to Lydia’s face. She nodded. He licked his lips nervously.

“Yes - yes, Ma’am… eh, yes, doctor.”

Cory rose to his feet in one fluid, graceful motion.

“B-Brutus. Miss Indira is nice. Y-you don’t have to be afraid of her. She helped this pet, when it first came.” He pulled off his grey t-shirt, revealing his back to the larger man. “Look, it is all healed now.”

The tangled mass of scars on Cory’s back was worse than the sum of scars on Brutus’ own body, though those were bad enough in their own right. Cory stood with his back to him, but both Indira and Lydia could clearly see the shock in Brutus’ eyes.

“I didn’t do those.” Lydia said gently. Cory turned quickly towards Brutus.

“N-no. Miss Lydia didn’t. S-she doesn’t… she doesn’t hurt this pet.”

”Well, Brutus.” Indira said. ”Could you please take off your t-shirt and take a seat in this chair?”

Brutus submitted easily to the examination. He didn’t seem to mind the doctor touching him, he obediently took breaths to let her listen to his lungs, he hardly reacted to the blood pressure cuff closing around his arm. Even when she examined and then cleaned the long gash along his ribs and shoulder he just gritted his teeth. He was used to the pain, Lydia thought, and more than that, he thought that the pain was his function.

“There.” Indira finally said after having finished taping a compress along his side, covering the gash. “Try to keep it dry.” She removed her disposable gloves and went over to the table where she had spread out her equipment. “Now, I just want to take a few blood samples...” She exchanged a glance with Lydia, who nodded. “…and I need to give you a shot of antibiotics. You’ll get some pills, too, but since this looks pretty bad, I’m giving you both.”

She was preparing her equipment and Lydia was watching her. They both whirled in surprise when Brutus made a half-choked, gasping sound.

The guard dog kept himself rigidly still, as if frozen in place, only his eyes moving. He was watching the syringe in Indira’s hands as if it was a venomous snake. “No…” he whispered “Please, no.”

“Brutus, are you all right?” Lydia bent down into his field of vision. He shook his head from side to side in one rapid motion.

“I don’t want to order him to submit.” Lydia said quietly to Indira. “I am not his master, he doesn’t trust me.”

”T-this pet will go first.” Cory’s voice, timid, but determined, made both women turn towards the blonde pet.

“There is nothing wrong with you. You don’t need a blood test.” Indira said.

Lydia chimed in, worriedly. “Are you not feeling well, Cory?”

“B-Brutus will see that it is all right.”

Indira nodded thoughtfully. “I could run the same tests as last time, that could actually be useful.” Lydia looked at Brutus.

“Would that help?” The dark-haired man was staring down into the floor, his whole body tense. He nodded once, curtly.

“Okay.” Indira said. “Could you please sit down here, Cory?”

Coriander held out his arm for her, not flinching at the cool swab of alcohol or the pinprick of the needle. The doctor filled several tubes with his red blood, finishing with putting a small plaster in the crook of his arm. Afterwards, she turned to the guard dog.

“Your turn, Brutus.”

He nodded again, as if he didn’t trust himself to speak. He sat still as a stone. Lydia could see the strain in his jaw where he gritted his teeth. On impulse, she walked up to his chair, putting one hand gently on his shoulder. His muscles rock hard with tension underneath her hand.

“You are being very good, Brutus.” Lydia said. “We are not going to hurt you, I promise.”

The man in the chair slowly turned his hand, exposing the bulging veins on the inside of his muscular arm to the doctor. Brutus’ other hand gripped the armrest of the chair so hard that the wood creaked. Indira wiped down the inside of his elbow with alcohol. Brutus whimpered at the touch, an unexpected sound from the large man.

With a gloved finger, the dark-haired woman felt carefully for the vein. The guard dog kept his face turned away.

“Okay” Indira said. “I’m inserting the needle now.”

Brutus’ whole body jerked at the prick of the needle, but he managed to keep himself from pulling away. Indira quickly filled several tubes with red blood, fluidly removed the needle and put on a small plaster, a spot of lighter colour against Brutus’ skin. He let out a loud breath, his whole body all ashiver.

“Well done.” Indira said encouragingly. “Now, I’ll just give you your shot and you will be all set.”

“N-no…” The guard dog shook his head, eyes wide with fear. ”I can’t… please.” He swallowed heavily. “Please don’t…”

The doctor sighed, compassion in her dark eyes.

“I am sorry, Brutus. You really need to have this treatment. I can either give it to you here, or you can get treated at the hospital.”

Both pets looked absolutely terrified at that.

“H-here…” Brutus said, almost inaudible. “B-but you will have to tie me down.”

“What if I order you to hold still?” Lydia asked, trying to keep her tone friendly and helpful, rather than threatening.

“Even… Even master has to use restraints for... for this. I - I cannot control myself.”

Shame and fear warred all over his face. “I’m sorry, Ma’am.”

Indira gave Lydia an exasperated glance.

“Seriously! What idiot would turn someone into a human weapon and then make them afraid to receive medical care?!”

Cory piped up, his voice thin and hesitant.

“They-they do something to pets sometimes at… at the facility. They g-give u-us drugs that that hurt.. or-or make you see things… or other… other things.” He swallowed, hard. “The… the fear - it is not supposed to happen. It… it is a defect in production. Guard dogs are… are often unstable.” He shot an apologetic glance at the man in the chair. “S-sorry, Brutus.”

Lydia’s mind snagged on something else the guard dog had said.

”Are you often getting injections, Brutus?” She asked, bewildered.

“Yes, Ma’am. Every… every sex weeks. But - but I have just… I have just had them. Only two weeks have passed. It’s… it’s not time yet.” He repeated it, as if to convince himself. “It is not time yet for another cycle.”

“And why are you getting the injections?”

He looked at her blankly. “To.. to make me strong, Ma’am.”

“Anabolic steroids,” Indira interjected grimly. “I’d bet on it. Six weeks on and six weeks off.”

The women exchanged shocked looks of horror and disgust. Lydia was the first to shake it off.

“So, Brutus has to be tied down. How do we go about it?” Indira held up her hands.

“Don’t look at me. The last time I used restraints on a patient was as an intern at an emergency psych ward. We had proper equipment, then.”

”Hmm… I don’t even know if I have a rope that is strong enough in the house.” Lydia paused and furrowed her brow, thinking. “Oh, but I have lashing straps! Cory knows where they are, could you go and get them for us?”

When the pet returned, Lydia took one of the bright blue straps and pulled the free end through the metal ratchet.

“Could you please hold up your hands, Brutus?” Gingerly, she laid the loop around his wrists and tightened the strap. “I’m really sorry about this.” She told him. “We’ll be as quick and careful as we can.”

Despite the guard dog’s obvious fear, he gave her a long-suffering, patient look from his brown eyes.

“No Ma’am. I’m afraid that won’t do.” With one sleek, rapid movement he twisted himself free.

“Give me your hands,” Brutus ordered Coriander, obviously happy to be doing something rather than just waiting in fear. Quaking, the pet complied. Cory’s wrists looking pale and thin compared with Brutus’ hands.

Efficiently, the guard dog tied a tight figure of eight around the pet’s wrists, finishing by wrapping the loose lengths between Cory’s hands, securing the loops tight around his wrists. He held up his handiwork to Indira and Lydia. Cory was shivering and slightly teary-eyed, but not resisting. “This is what you need to do, Ma’am.” Brutus addressed his remark to both of them. “The tie around the wrists has to be very snug, but not so tight that it cuts off the blood flow.”

With joint efforts and a lot of cooperation and guidance from Brutus, Lydia and Indira finally managed to tie the guard dog up in a way which he agreed was secure.

Lydia suddenly, inappropriately, wanted to laugh. The large man lying on the rug was trussed up like a chicken.

“All right.” She said. “Let’s do it.”

They turned him so that he was lying on his side, a pillow underneath his head. His hands and feet were tied up with the bright blue lashing straps. Lydia held on to his shoulder, Indira knelt on the floor next to her, Coriander was sitting over the guard dog’s legs, pinning him to the floor.

“Are you ready, Brutus?” Indira asked. The dark-haired man nodded. Lydia could feel his whole body shaking where she held onto his shoulder. His skin was cold and clammy, his face scrunched up with tension, every muscle taut.

The doctor wiped down his upper arm with alcohol and this time, the guard dog screamed at the touch. A loud, terrified scream. Lydia thought to herself that she was lucky not to live in an apartment, her neighbours would have thought that she was murdering someone. He arched his back and struggled violently against the restraints. She had to use all her force to push him down against the floor and keep him still.

Indira raised the syringe, squeezed out a drop of the liquid inside and sank the needle into his upper arm. It was but a moment’s work to inject the drug, pull out the needle and put on a plaster.

“All done.” Indira said. Immediately, the guard dog ceased to struggle. His whole body collapsed, all tension gone out of his muscles. Lydia quickly reached over his body and unwrapped the strap around his wrists as fast as she could. She heard Cory releasing the straps around Brutus’ legs. Indira was putting away the used syringe and pulled off her gloves.

Even though the guard dog was free of his restraints, he stayed down in a boneless heap on the floor. His only response was to slowly, slowly pull himself into a curled, fetal position, hiding his face in his shaking hands.

Lydia and Indira leaned back and looked at each other with wide eyes.

“Okay,” Indira said, “that was… intense. So what do we do now?”

“Touch seem to work well with pets. But I don’t know… Cory?”

The blonde young man nodded in one quick movement. Lifting his hand and dragging it over his own head and cheek in a mimicked caress.

Indira hesitantly reached out and rested her well-manicured hand on the guard dog’s arm. ”There, there.” She said, somewhat awkwardly. Lydia rubbed his shoulder and caressed her hand over his thick, dark hair.

“You’ll be all right, Brutus. You’ll be all right.” Lydia said. Cory patted Brutus soothingly, but he didn’t say anything.

They were all sitting in a heap on the floor together. The three of them gently holding on to the large man lying curled up on the floor. Brutus was crying as if there were no end to tears in this world.

*

(Not so) Fun Fact

I have used antibiotics several times in this story and with the risk of sounding preachy I just want to mention that overuse of antibiotics and the resulting antibiotic resistance is a very real and dangerous global problem. We are squandering a finite resource at the moment.

What to do about it?

Don’t badger your doctor for antibiotics if they say that you don’t need them. If you do need antibiotics, make sure to finish the whole course of treatment. I would also argue that we need to work for political reforms that allows people to be able to take sick leave (and thus have time to get well without antibiotics from non-serious illnesses), and political reforms that improves animal welfare, and forbids preventive use of antibiotics, in agriculture. *steps down from soap box*

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A (hopefully) more fun fact is that I am taking part in Whumptober with a new story. I won’t tag people automatically, but if you want to be tagged, please let me know.

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