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pigeonwhumps · 1 year

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Transport

Sanctuary masterlist

Finding Safety masterlist

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages @emcscared-whumps @poc-whump

785 is transported back to the WRU centre, and has an unpleasant experience along the way.

1.7k

CWs: BBU, pet whump, dehumanisation, collar, restrained, (short) explicit non-con, mentioned past non-con, lady whump, rough handling, mentioned kidnapping, conditioning, multiple whumpees

The conditioned phrases 785 repeats to herself were created variously by @maniacal-ramblings and @ashintheairlikesnow (and thanks to Ash for compiling the list I found them on here). Also, while I'm crediting, the bit about how to punch properly is from @wolfeyedwitch 's post – cheers for that information, which inspired both a large part of the next chapter and Cass' creation in the first place (I'm not sure whether me creating yet another OC should be something to thank you for actually but hey. I like him).

The doorbell rings and 785 listens to the murmur of voices, too low to make out. Then, with a lurch, she feels herself moving. Her box is lifted and carried outside, jostled all the while, before she feels herself being shoved onto something. There's a thud of wood on wood and she hears a loud whimper from below her, and she knows, she knows, that she's been packed on top of another Pet. Sideways. Her cheek pressed against what's now the floor of the crate.

The metal doors of the delivery van slam shut and a few seconds later there's the rumble of an engine as the vehicle starts moving. 785 bumps up and down, hitting the wood with small thuds that disorient her but won't do much actual damage (she doesn't think so anyway). She can hear crying from one of the boxes, and coughing from another.

How many Pets are in here?

She hopes the coughing one doesn't make her ill, because if she gets ill again she won't be able to work, and then she'll be punished, and– and her ribs still ache sometimes, from the last time it happened.

It can't happen again. Please, please, don't make her ill.

The van comes to a sudden halt and she jolts forward, hitting her head on the box. She yelps, which soon turns into a silent scream as her collar activates.

The pain causes her to white out for... she's not sure how long, but when she comes back to herself they're moving again. With each corner they turn she jerks around in her box, and with each stop the van makes she becomes a little more bruised, a little more battered. Most of the stops are pick-ups, although a few boxes are taken out. She wonders if the Pets in the drop-offs are better secured inside their boxes – she wasn't, not really, but then, customers wouldn't put up with damaged goods. They'd complain.

She's not sure how she knows about product satisfaction with such certainty. Her head splits open as she tries to think about it and she gasps.

Maybe... maybe she should stop thinking. She's just a stupid Pet, after all, she doesn't need to think. She shouldn't think. That's something only people should be doing.

It's getting hot in here. It's been warm these past few days, and now she's stuck in a small wooden box surrounded by other boxes and metal. It's no wonder.

The van hits some sort of bump and she lurches, hitting the roof of the crate hard. Someone screams.

"Keep it down back there!" yells a voice from up front. 785 thinks it might be the driver.

"We would," comes a gruff, thickly-accented voice from one of the other boxes, "if you'd drive slower so we're not falling everywhere all the time."

The van stops and the back door slams open. "Who the fuck said that?"

"Me."

785 hears footsteps on the floor of the van and then a boot hitting wood. "Shut the fuck up, then. Oh, I see your owner taped your paperwork to the side of your box. Says here that you were a guard Pet, being sent back for refurbishment, due to your excessive insolence and emerging beliefs about being a person."

"That's bullshit! I've never even seen the inside of a WRU centre! This... scumbag kidnapped me and when I wouldn't be his perfect fucking pet he left me in a box on the roadside! I'm not one of your fucking slaves!"

"You know what? I really don't care where you're from. If you think WRU get all their Pets legally I've got a damn bridge to sell you. You're ours now."

There's a growl, and 785 shakes her head. You signed up for this. All pets are of legal consenting age and made a choice to pursue a change of circumstances including no longer retaining legal ownership of themselves. All merchandise is acquired through full legal channels. She repeats this over and over in her head. She knows that to be true, so the delivery driver must be lying. Mustn't he?

The guard kicks the strange Pet's box again. "And guard Pets are known for getting lots of injuries, so if I were to punish you for disturbing me, no-one would know the difference. So I advise you to shut the fuck up and resign yourself to a life of Pethood, because you're not getting anything else." The Pet's silent. "Right. God. Now that's settled, I gotta burn off some steam. Oi, Dave, there anyone around?"

"There never is here, you know that," says another man from up front. "That's why we always stop here for a break."

"Get back here then. And bring my phone."

The cab door slams. "Man, you are not going to film this."

"Why not? There's no harm."

"No harm– you know what'll happen to us if anyone finds out that you're fiddling with the merchandise! That's why we don't leave any evidence! No filming!"

"Oh come on. It's just for me." There's a pause. "At least help me get the box out and open."

A heavy sigh. "Fine, fine. Who you going for?"

"785. Eleanor's Pet. She looks so good in the videos."

785 tenses. That's her. Her box is shifted and lifted off the van, and set down heavily on the ground, turning her over and shaking her to her bones. She hears the nails being pulled out and the lid removed. Someone lifts her out and sets her down on gravel that pokes into her legs.

"Oh, she's even more beautiful in real life," says the unnamed man. "With the red silk and the bark collar."

"Mm. I wonder why she wasn't made a Romantic?"

"Who knows. Come on, man, don't get me to film. You know what'll happen if we're caught."

"We won't be. Come onnn." There's a silence, and then another sigh and a beep, and a crow. "Eyyy! Atta boy!"

"You better not get us caught, or I'll kill you."

"Yeah, yeah. 785, open your mouth." 785 obeys, unable to do anything else, and she hears the sound of a zipper. "Wider than that. Ah, that's better."

Something slides into her mouth. It's warm and wrinkly and it tastes disgusting, and she nearly chokes as it hits the back of her throat. She knows what to do though, she's been ordered to do it before even though it wasn't her owners (even though her owners had been angry at the order, and angry with her for letting it happen), and she sucks his dick.

"Oh. Oh, that's so good. Mmm."

785 keeps going until there's a jerk and he comes in her throat. She splutters and coughs, trying to swallow or spit it out or something to stop herself choking. It tastes bitter and salty and horrible, and she can feel the tears dripping out from under the blindfold even before Dave points them out. She wasn't made for this, it's not her designation. She's not prepared for it.

"You want a go with her, Dave? She's very good."

"I prefer my sexual partners to be consensual, thanks."

"And yet you were happy to film me."

"Look, let's just– get her back in the box."

"Sure, sure. Your loss." 785 feels herself being lifted and put back in her box, the top nailed down. Her stomach lurches, in free fall, as her box is thrown back on, and the Pet below her screams as she lands upside down with a thud, slamming into the wood hard, breath punched from her as she sees stars. She curls up as tightly as possible as they start to move again. Her stomach churns but she presses her lips together tightly. She won't be sick. She won't sit in a pile of her own vomit for the rest of the journey.

Her jaw aches and her knees are bruised and she's so tired, she just wants 065 or Hugo or her bear (especially 065), and she starts to drift. She can't help but listen to the low, accented voice of that strange Pet when he starts speaking again.

"I'm sorry, 785. I know you probably won't answer, I overheard about the bark collar, but I'm still sorry. I didn't realise I'd get you hurt by speaking up."

He didn't? But every Pet knows that, how can he not? Maybe he really isn't from the WRU.

Swallowing her fear, 785 decides to speak. She needs a distraction, to stop her mind going over and over and over the events of a few minutes ago.

"Hello," she whispers, bracing herself against the shocks. It's not too bad if she whispers. "I'm 785. It's– it's okay, you didn't mean to. It's my– my job."

"Hmm. Well, I'm Cass. Nice to meet you."

"And– and you."

"When they let us out, I'm going to escape. You should come. I do not care if it's hard, I will not be a Pet. I hope you come. All of you. You do not have to stay enslaved." There's a whimper below 785, and she shakes her head. She's not enslaved, she chose this. "If you want to punch, wrap your thumb around the outside of your fist and squeeze it. Aim with your first two knuckles and keep your wrist straight. Start with your knuckles down, and only twist them up towards the end of extending your arm."

785 tries not to listen, she can't fight the handlers, only people can do that. Only people can decide if she's allowed to fight, and she really, really isn't. Not as a combination Platonic/Domestic. She's never been allowed to before.

She can't fight. She's a Pet, she chose to be one, she'll be one for life. She signed up for this. Even if... even if that means she'll be refurbished, forget 065. That's fine. She signed up for it, nothing is her choice anymore, she has to obey. It'll all be good if she obeys. If she fights, it might not be. She's not going to fight. She doesn't have permission or orders to do so.

Unconsciously, her hands curl into fists behind her back, thumbs squeezed around the outsides.

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silvercrystalwhump · 3 years

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Silence and Milkshakes

TW: dehumanizing whumpee, General bbu warning, implied past noncon, tired and stressed boy

The engine of the old, filthy truck hums with a low drone; something clicks around in the hood. It could be nothing, or it could be something terrible. Flynn isn’t planning on checking it now. It is a nice distraction from the aching throb in his side. Silently, he rubs his fingers on the worn leather steering wheel, just barely cooler than the surface of the sun. When he first bought this car, he hated the way the leather stuck to his hands and made driving a lifetime commitment, but now it only resonates warmth through the calluses of his fingers.

The radio is turned down; it broke and is now stuck on an old jazz station saturated in static. Flynn can tell what the artist is through the grinding of the static, he thinks it’s Miles Davis, but Flynn was more likely to guess the winning lottery numbers than guess the song currently playing. Flynn taps lightly on the brake as he approaches a light. Yellow lights glare down at him from its pole. As the car rolls to a stop, Flynn glances at his passenger seat.

Kai is sitting there. Yesterday, Flynn gave him one of his hoodies for comfort while he was at school. Unfortunately, the high school hoodie permanently acquired the faint smell of cigarette smoke years ago. Kai sits as straight as a nail, eyes at his feet. His hands are perfectly still on his lap.

Position 3.

Flynn presses on the gas, and the car lurches forward. His eyes go back to the road, but his thoughts stay on the box boy. He had read up on some information about box boys from WRU’s website. They are people who signed over their rights to get better, happier lives. Flynn keeps himself from scoffing at the thought. Happier lives, Kai looks like he’s seen some horrible stuff. Hell, he’s been traumatized to the point of muteness. Flynn had triple-checked his medical records for anything that would render him mute, but he found nothing.

Why willingly put yourself through that?

Flynn pulls into a small section of town, and he drives the car into a Chick-fa-la drive-through. He wants something in his stomach before he goes and lifts bricks all day from some rich guy. His eyes trail back to Kai, “Do you want anything bud?”

Kai’s bright green eyes look at him. For a moment, Flynn thinks that he’s not going to respond. But, instead, Kai tilts his head slightly, strands of silky red hair fall across his face. Some deep inside Flynn, a side of him twisted by the horror he lives with every day, understands why someone would buy a little box boy like Kai.

So tiny, adorable.

Flynn curses himself and says, "Do you want a milkshake?"

Kai nods silently. His thin fingers pull at the shorts Flynn gave him a week ago. Flynn pretends not to notice; Kai seems to panic when he does.

"Wjat flavor?"

Kai blanks again. Green eyes looking wide at the menus that glow in the early morning light. His eyes grow distant, and he just looks back at Flynn.

Flynn sights and raises a hand. Kai flinches, Flynn pretends to ignore it. Then, he holds up a finger, "Can you hold up fingers?"

Kai nods. The tiny box boy is as tense as hardwood cut against the grain.

"Okay, one for vanilla, two for chocolate, and three for cookies and cream."

Flynn watches the gears turn in Kai’s head. Three pale fingers raise for a second before shooting back to his thigh. Flynn gives Kai a warm smile as he pulls around to the speaker.

As Flynn orders, he sees Kai shift in his seat. Kai pulls his knees into the hoodie and tries to hide his nose in his knees. Flynn notices the boy shivering, and once he finishes ordering, he leans into the partial backseat and pulls out an old quilt.

"I know it's chilly bud, the heat doesn't work in this car," Flynn says as he wraps the quilt around Kai's body. Kai looks with wide eyes at Flynn. He seems to lean into Flynn's touch, no matter how brief the contact.

The drive over, and Flynn hands the woman cash and grabs the food. He sets in it the cup holder area and pulls out. As he drives, he gives the milkshake to Kai. The box boy gingerly takes the cup and holds it. His eyes on Flynn, the entire time, waiting in his eyes.

"That's yours Kai, you can drink it."

Kai instantly puts the straw in his mouth and tries to suck down all of the liquid. Almost immediately, he regrets it. Flynn holds back a chuckle, "You can't drink it so fast Kai you'll get a brain freeze."

Kai blinks at the drink and puts the straw back in his mouth, this time drinking slower. Flynn tosses a chicken mini into his mouth, and he keeps driving.

He drives mindlessly for a few lights until Kai sneezes, ripping him back to reality.

At a red light, Flynn looks over at Kai. He put the milkshake into a cup holder and is now quietly sleeping against the seat belt. Flynn smiles subconsciously and then memories of a few nights ago.

He had awoken to Kai sleeping against his chest. Flynn shoved him aside in a panic and freaked the little guy out. Guilt gnawed at his throat all day after that.

Kai has not tried to touch him since.

Flynn swears under his breath. Why did he put him? There were so many ways to handle that, and you chose aggression.

Why am I so much like my father?

Flynn shoves those thoughts aside. Now wasn't the time for self-loathing; he had the stuff to do. He needs to drop Kai off at Chloe’s and get to work. Gritting his teeth, Flynn pulls through onto one of the highways near his home.

Usually, he wouldn't mind leaving Kai home by himself. Since he got home before his Father, Kai stayed in his room, so even if he did, he would be fine. Not today.

His Dad will have his drinking buddies over to watch the game tonight. Flynn rubs his thumbs across the leather of the steering wheel, anxiety crawling up his spine.

Dad expects him to cater to his friends.

One of those friends is Morrie Mitchell.

Flynn holds back a gag as he pulls into the shopping district of the town. A small bakery with its backlights on sits off to the right. Flynn, with white knuckles, pulls into the back parking.

Putting the car in park, Flynn sets his head on the steering wheel. Bile rises in his throat, but Flynn bites it back.

Hands, he can feel ghost and across his back. The man's voice is a specter across his mind, whispering twisted sweet nothings. He wants to hide away from a voice and hands that are not there.

Tap tap.

Flynn rips his head up and locks eyes with Worried dark eyes. He sighs and opens the door; Chloe stands out in the dawn light. The golden light crosses her face and makes her skin look like golden chocolate.

"Sorry," Flynn says, "I'm just out of it this morning."

Chloe smiles, "Not an issue, I have coffee inside if you want some."

Flynn nods, "Yeah, thanks."

Hopping out of the car, he walks over to the car’s passenger side and opens the door.

Kai stirs. He wakes up and looks at Flynn, confusion and worry across his face.

"Hey bud," Flynn says calmly, "Chloes going to watch you while I'm at work today."

Chloe walks up behind him and wakes at Kai. Flynn guides Kai out by the hand. Kai hops out of the car and lands next to Flynn. Chloe looks down at Kai’s hands and says, "Hd drew on his hands."

Kai freezes and starts to shake. Flynn mentally curses and tries to soothe him, "Its alright bud, it's okay."

Flynn reaches into the car and grabs Kai’s milkshake. Then, leaning into the back of the truck, his fingers wrap around an old math notebook. He hands both to Kai and says, "How about the draw in here okay?"

Kai nods profusely, his eyes begging out apologies. Flynn guides Kai towards the bakery.

Chloe trots out in front of them and opens the door. She steps into a sitting area in the back for the staff that's linked to the pantry.

"I explained the situation to Ma as you explained to me and she's perfectly fine with him staying here."

"Thank you Chloe," Flynn yawns, "I seriously cant thank you enough."

Chloe smiles, "Dont mention it."

She turns to Kai, who holds his things in a death grip, "How are you Kai."

Kai just steps behind Flynn and inches as close to him as possible.

"He doesn't speak," Flynn says softly as he leads Kai over to the worn couch, "He'll listen to you though."

"Mute or nonverbal?"

"I don't know, he just doesn't talk."

Kai sips on his milkshake and bundles in both the quilt and the jacket.

Flynn walks towards the door and pulls out his wallet. Before he can pull out a twenty, Chloe shakes her head, "Flynn, you and I both know you need every penny, see this as a favor from a friend."

"Are you sure, I really don't want to put a burden on you all."

Chloe gives Flynn a look worth an entire essay; we both know you'll need it to escape.

Flynn pierces his lips and nods. He turns back to Kai and says gently, "You can draw back here; let Chloe know if you need anything.

Kai nods sleepily.

Flynn turns to Chloe, "Just remember to give him lunch around noonish and check on on him every so often, if you show him where stuff is hell usually take care of himself."

"Aye aye captian."

Flynn chuckles and waves to Kai. Kai blinks back at him and continues drinking his milkshake.

Flynn hops in his car and drives off to work. But, he still could not stop thinking about Kai.

#flynn #kai #box boy whump #box boy au #whump #whump community #box boy #box boy universe

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whumpfigure · 4 years

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Whumptober Day 2: Collars

Even more Trainee!Bastet for whumptober!! This time from the POV of the bastard Marcus himself.

CW: pet whump, dehumanization, BBU general warnings, shock collars, implied drugging, ableist language towards asthma, beating

Marcus Craine is a dedicated man. He has always been. All throughout his school and college years, and now in his job, his focus hasn't once wavered from the tasks on his hands. He won't go around 'having fun with the trainees' like some other handlers do. Unless he's sure that this fun will make the trainee progress towards their owners' desires.

He doesn't take any day-offs when he has a trainee at hand, and tries not to leave the facility much. Even though he's sure his wife does not like it when Marcus doesn't come back home for weeks on end. Not that he doesn't meet his wife at all, in those times. They're sort of colleagues, after all. They both work in the same facility.

Marina, Marcus's wife, is not a handler. Nor a lawyer, or a doctor or nurse. Marina is an engineer. And she works in WRU's design team. Their team designs a large variety of things. From the interal designs of WRU buildings, to the various training devices - canes, batons, restraints , and Romantics' special toys - to the boxes themselves. And out of all these, Marina's main job is to design collars. Well, shock collars, to be specific.

So, when two weeks ago Marcus saw the 'Only Cat Sounds' part in his newest trainee's requested skills, he knew exactly what he was going to do.

Marina was an expert in costumized shock collars. She could program it to pick even the most specific sounds. So she gladly accepted Marcus's request for 373916's shock collar.

And now, after two weeks of waiting for Marina to finish the job, Marcus is standing in his training room with the brand new collar in his hands, while the trainee is being hauled to the room by two guards. He's still dazed after his last dose of the Drip. Marcus is pretty sure the boy's already forgotten his name. They always do, around two weeks after their contract.

There are deep black circles under 373916's eyes, just above the line where the leather of his muzzle meets the skin. Marcus has started giving him nutrients last week, and there are yoga classes scheduled for him everyday. But he still looks rather boney. No problem though. He'll be just the right weight by the time his training is finished.

He watches as the guards shove the boy to ground before they leave, and he falls down face-first. He stays sprawled like that, just for a second, before quickly pushing himself off the ground, and into position two. Kneeling perfectly still, with his hands carefully folded on his lap, waiting for Marcus to start. Marcus smirks at that. His posture might still need some work, Marcus thinks. But that would have to wait for another day. Now, is the shock collar time.

"Good morning, 373916." Marcus starts, "It's a lovely day today, isn't it?" He says, and watches as the trainee's eyebrows furrow, and he stays perfectly still. Marcus has played this game with him before, a couple of times. Ask him a yes/no question while he's muzzled, wait for him to answer with any sounds from behind the muzzle. And then punish him for being bad. His owner has ordered him to be like a cat. And so he will be. Actually, by the looks of it, 373916 has already learned that trick. 'A fast learner' Marcus thinks.

"You know what, boy? I have a present for you today!" He says cheerfully and picks up the collar from his desk. The boy looks up at him warily.

"This," Marcus says as he taps the shock collar with his forefinger, "Is what's going to save you from that muzzle."

Marcus gets up from his chair - with the collar still in his hand - and goes towards the boy. Up close, he can see that the boy's slightly shaking. Marcus of course, ignores that, and puts a hand behind the boy's head, just above the buckle of his muzzle, and starts playing with his hair. He can feel the trainee's muscles tense at the touch, and the shaking grow a bit more visible. They'll have to work on this reaction as well.

"I know how much you hate your muzzle. Makes it hard for you to breathe, right? For your little asthma crap?" He tightens his hand over the boy's hair, and hears him let out a muffled cry.

"Tsk, what did I tell you about shutting those human noises, kitty?" Marcus fakes a sigh, and the trainee's eyes fill with tears.

"Don't worry though. This new collar," Marcus hold it up in front of the trainee's face, "Is gonna help you with that."

Just then, Marcus starts unbuckling the muzzle, and the previous ordinary shock collar, and puts on the new one. No different than the ordinary ones, in looks. But a hundred times more useful for their goals.

"Now we can finally start some real training. Isn't that exciting, kitty?" He says and at the same time raises his foot and kicks the trainee's ribs with his steel-toed boot, and the trainee doubles over in pain and lets out a pained cry. But as soon as the voice leaves his throat, the sensors on the collar go off, and the shock gets the boy by surprise. His eyes go wide in pain and he sprawls on the floor, screaming. Finally, after a few seconds, the shock ends. But 373916's screaming barely does, and the sound sets the collar off, again. This time, the boy's whole body starts shaking with the shock, and he claws at the collar, in a futile attempt to escape from the pain. This process happens, again, and again, and again. And in the meantime, Marcus goes sitting at his desk, and pours himself a cup of a coffee, as he watches his trainee try, and try, and try again, to silence his cries. All the while, Marcus's smile doesn't leave his face.

Tagging: @slaintetowhump @ashintheairlikesnow @liliability @ohmywhump @whumptywhumpdump @raigash @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @simplygrimly @whump-it @oceanthesarcasamfox @inky-whump @whumppsychology @inaridriscoll @rivertamandspike @spookyboywhump @faewhump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpzone @sola-whumping @whumpsy-daisies @crystalrainwing @a-whump-muffin @whumptober2020

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whumpfigure · 4 years

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The Cat

Heyyy look who's finally starting to write after so long!! I've been thinking about this BBU setting story for a while, and I finally sat down to write it out a bit. It's less than 1k words but shhh

Anyways, I'll be tagging a few people who might be interested? I don't know. Just ignore it if y'all don't feel like it. @slaintetowhump @orchidscript @whump-it @ashintheairlikesnow @my-whumpy-little-heart @raigash @liliability

CW: Pet whump, dehumanization(mostly implied but quite heavy), slavery, and other BBU general contents.

"No mom. I'm not leaving my old job." Javier pinches the bridge of his nose as he tells his mom over the phone. "It's a part time job. Only a couple of times a month." He explains.

"Yes, yes. Yes mom, I promise. What? Oh mom please! I'm not a kid-... yes, I know the man. I've been working in his company for two years now... yes, I promise he's a good man. No mom, he won't fuckin' kidnap me!" Javier's voice raises a bit.

"I'm sorry I swore. Yes mom, I'll be careful. Yeah. Love you too. Bye." With a sigh, Javier finally finishes the call.

He doesn't call his mom frequently. At least, not as frequent as he used to, when he had newly moved from Spain to the States. But each of those times he did, he'd get surprised at how worried his mom still was for him. He's been living in the States for 5 years now, since he was 23, and his mom still worried him like a teenager.

With another sigh, Javier brings up his phone again, and starts typing a text to his old friend, Jenna, to inform her of his absence.

"Hey Jenna. I just wanted to tell you that I won't be coming to the shelter this weekend. My boss is going on a business trip, and he told me offered me to take care of his cat while he's gone. He's paying a pretty good bunch for it, and you know how much I need the money. Sorry I can't join you this time. See you next weekend XD" Javier hits the send button.

"Are you ready to go?" His boss says as he fixes his neck scarf in front of the mirror.

"Yes Mr Russels. I can't wait to see your cat." Javier says as he gets up from his chair and follows Mr Russels towards the door.

"Oh really? I'm glad. I'm sure you'll love him." Mr Russels says, as they reach the elevators and head down towards the parking lot.

When they get on Mr Russels' car - an blue antique-looking chevrolet - Javier finally asks, "So, how is your cat like?"

"He's a great boy. Quiet and calm. But he gets depressed when I leave him for long. He needs someone to play with, every once in a while." Mr Russels says as he starts the engine, and surprisingly, the old car starts moving with near to no difficulty.

Most of the ride to Mr Russels home is spent talking about his cat, Bastet - which Javier learns is actually the name of the Egyptian goddess of cats - and the things Javi should know while catsitting him. Foods the cat likes or dislikes. His sensitivities. His favourite toys. And all those stuff. By the time they get to Mr Russels home, Javier feels like he knows Bastet more than he knew his own cat back in Madrid.

Mr Russels' home is a quite large two-story house with a nice garden and a gable roof. And there are heavy curtains hanging behind all of the windows.

"Welcome in, Javier" Mr Russels says, as he opens the front door and steps inside, and Javier follows him inside the house.

The inside of the house is all levels of surprising. There are dozens of all types of oil paintings hanging around what seems to be the living room. A big bookshelf is on one corner, full of thick leather-covered books. The furniture is all a red-themed antique-looking bunch, and the whole room is covered with Persian rugs.

But what surprises Javier the most is the person that's sitting, no, kneeling, in the middle of the Persian rug. There's a boy, looking barely more than 20, with dark hair and tanned skin and freaking collar wraped around his throat, kneeling in the middle of Mr Russels' living room.

Of course he would have a pet, Javier thinks, as he tries to look natural. All these rich people have one, if not some.

"Ahem..." Javier clears his throat, "Mr Russels, um.. where is the cat?" He asks, trying to take his boss's attention away from whatever emotion was visible on his face.

"Oh, he's right here!" Mr Russels says, and he walks up towards the boy kneeling perfectly still on the ground, and stands behind him.

"Javier, this is Bastet." He says as he puts a hand in the boy's jet black hair, and the boy leans his head onto the touch. And Javier swears that at that moment, he hears a very soft purring sound coming out of the boy's throat. "He's my good kitty"

#whump #whumpee #whumper #whumpblr #box boy universe #box boy multiverse #box boy #bbu whump #dehumanization #slavery tw #pet whump #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #Javier #Russels #Austin #Bastet

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