#sanctuary pigeonwhumps

[pigeonwhumps]

In-BBU media

BBU Community Days: Day 10

@bbu-on-the-side

I have been looking forward to this prompt since Sara announced it! This is, predictably, the first of several posts today.

A pet lib magazine article featuring an interview with Anita, Theo and Lea. Transcript is below the cut.

Edit: Agh forgot the taglist. I think half of you at least have seen it already so apologies for this but anyway: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages @flowersarefreetherapy @painful-pooch

CWs: BBU, pet whump, PTSD, amnesia, implications of BBU, rape, dehumanisation, torture, conditioned whumpees, ableism. Nothing graphic

Feature interview

The Life of a Pet

Hugo and Mia, two so-called pets, talk to us briefly about their lives, both while currently being looked after by Sandip, and while under contract with WRU. All names are pseudonyms for protection. This article contains descriptions of legal torture, rape, conditioning, and dehumanisation.

Hugo and Mia kneel in front of the sofa where Sandip sits, feet crossed under herself. We’ve both tried multiple times to get them to sit on the sofa with Sandip, but neither will. Sandip confided in me that she believes they were trained not to sit on furniture, “like some people train their animals”.

Hugo has been with Sandip for seven years, and with his previous owners for seven years before that. Mia, meanwhile, has been with Sandip for only five years, and eight with her previous owners, with a period of retraining in between. They have both been in the pet system for fifteen years, originally trained as a combined Domestic/Platonic bonded pair, although Mia was later retrained as a Romantic before ending up with Sandip. As you possibly know, there are multiple companies that deal with the business of buying, selling and training pets, but both Hugo and Mia were traded by WRU, the UK’s largest pet trading company, not to mention one of the country’s largest employers overall — that is, if you call pets employees and not what they really are: slaves.

The interview was clearly very distressing for our interviewees, and although we offered to stop at multiple points, all three declined. A brave trait when dealing with a subject of this nature, and even I, with little direct experience of the WRU's worst features, felt ill at times.

WRU wipes the memories of everyone they turn into pets, to prevent them from remembering their families or even realising they're people who can have a life outside of slavery. Hugo no longer remembers his family, or what his life was like before becoming a pet. This creates a system ripe for abuse, where victims can receive no recourse – there are numerous accusations of people being turned into pets against their will, something they’re unlikely to remember. The Drip, as the memory-wipe technology is colloquially known, would serve as a handy tool to wipe witnesses’ minds of the criminal’s activities, or for an abuser to get rid of their victim, to name but two horrific uses that are not, and never have been, well legislated against.

Mia’s memory has been wiped twice, and although some may see this as an indication that her story is untrustworthy, we at Liberation believe it demonstrates the sheer cruelty of WRU workers, to wipe her loved ones from her mind not once but twice. She has photos now, which she shows me proudly – her and her family, her friends, new and old, some she’s found more than once – photos that look like they could be from any normal holiday or day trip, if you ignore the shadows in the former pets’ eyes, or the collar around Hugo’s neck that he wears for the feeling of security it apparently provides.

Hugo doesn’t remember being recruited, although there are photos and articles describing his recruitment during the WRU’s first disability inclusion drive, proving that his involvement, at least, started out as voluntary. But it didn’t stay that way. It turned into fear, and brutal punishment, at the hands of people who didn’t seem to care about his well-being, beyond his usefulness. After his memory was wiped too, of course.

“The first thing I remember is having my barcode tattooed. It was scary. I wasn’t alone for long, but I was alone for that. The training was harsh, I remember that. The handlers had electrified black batons and shock collars to punish us with, among other tools. No scarring. And then once Mia came along, they punished both of us if one of us messed up, because we were bonded. So even though sometimes it didn’t seem important what happened to me, I didn’t want to get Mia hurt."

Mia nods in agreement. “I– I don’t remember my first training exactly, but I– but I remember the feeling of– of not wanting Hugo to get– to get hurt. He was all I– all I had.”

The WRU, if we were to ask, would not even be able to pretend that Mia’s acquisition was voluntary. Between Sandip, Mia, and Mia’s former partner Olu, they’ve put the pieces of her acquisition together — and it isn’t pretty.

“We– we think I was taken on the– on the way home from orchestra practice,” says Mia quietly. “My Romantic handler used to– used to boast about using– using me first. I think– I think he kidnapped me. And then– and then raped me, before my– my memory was wiped. Hugo says I– I defended him from– from a different handler, before we officially met, but I don’t– I don’t remember that.”

And therein lies the problem: Drip-induced amnesia. Although involuntary acquisitions and rape of non-Romantic pets are illegal, without the pet’s memory, who will be there as witness to prosecute? Even if the pet remembers, their legal status is such that they simply can't prosecute for themself.

“It’s not always too bad,” says Hugo. “Our first primary handler, he was fairer. Didn’t give us punishments if we behaved. But he was still scary. He still hurt Mia, just because she was a pet. Mistress tries to help, but we haven’t had control over our lives for fifteen years.”

We couldn’t contact the initial handler for comment, who seems to have disappeared since blowing the whistle on some of WRU’s worst practices (see previous edition for details), but fear’s rampant within those in the community trying to do their best for pets within the confines of such an unjust system. Sandip is one of them, and has already been arrested for her actions.

“Twice. We’ve been arrested twice. Hugo was almost sent to a retraining centre for fighting back after the police caught him unawares while trying to protect me, and nearly killed him through anaphylactic shock. They’ve hated us ever since, and last year I was arrested for suspected terrorism via pet lib offences. I was raped and assaulted by a WRU handler in police custody, and subjected to strip and intimate searches by cops.” Sandip takes a shaky breath and scratches Hugo’s scalp, which seems to calm them both. “They wanted to scare me into confessing to crimes. And poor Hugo was an easy target the first time.”

Pet-related miscarriages of justice are a situation many of us are familiar with after adespeaks’s viral speech on his YouTube channel last month spurred an ongoing deluge of accusations, although an analysis is too long for this interview — see page 7 for details. For now, we will continue with Hugo and Mia’s story. We pick up as they get sent to a new home, fully trained and ready to be an influencer couple’s pets.

“You know boxies are transported in crates, but you maybe don’t realise how rough the couriers are. My box was left upside down on my new owners’ doorstep. I was there for hours while they sorted out cameras, and I couldn’t hear anything obviously, or see anything, I didn’t know where Mia was at all. Anything could’ve happened to her.”

“It wasn’t too bad with our first owners, just a little exposed and humiliating, I suppose, not until the divorce. Mia doesn’t remember it. We were split up, and I ended up with Master. He didn’t want me, they only bought me to look good anyway, because I’m profoundly deaf and they’d get sympathy and virtue points, that’s what he said, and he wasn’t kind or safe at all. I should’ve been safe wearing a collar but I wasn’t. He just hurt and starved me until he got rid of me. He used whips and belts and left me outside to freeze. He made me into an ashtray, and used me as a punching bag, and forgot to feed me and give me water constantly. The scar on my cheek is from him, but earlier. Once, Mia had to wear a tightly-laced corset because she was coughing too much, and she passed out. That was earlier too.” He pauses, seemingly thinking hard. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to give so much detail, it’s supposed to be confidential. I was so scared. He could’ve killed me.”

“I was horrified by all the scars,” interjects Sundip. Hugo nods. It seems that despite the propaganda, becoming a pet doesn’t guarantee you a safe and loving home. Not even during transportation, where you’d expect them to want them to arrive wholly intact at least, are they treated with a modicum of decency.

Mia squeezes Hugo’s hand tightly, looking a little ill, her face pinched as if holding back a headache. “And– and I shouldn’t remember the– the second trip, back to the training centre, but I– but I do now. I– I don’t know why, the therapist says– says my remembering was triggered by trauma. I was– I was thrown around inside my box, and– and not upright, and people were– were screaming, and I– I was raped. Again. And I– I tried to escape, along with another– another pet, but they just– just caught and– and punished me and– and wiped my memory. I didn’t– didn’t remember him until– until recently, let alone know what– what happened to him. Or– or me. It still hurts my head to– to think about.”

It’s a harrowing story, and we have to pause there for Mia to compose herself. Sandip rubs her back soothingly.

“I was caring for Hugo by this point. He came to me by accident, but I wasn't leaving him. We were looking for Mia, Hugo missed her, and when she came up as refurbished on the WRU website we had to buy her. It’s been a tricky few years, I didn't do as well as I should have early on and we discovered an illegal hysterectomy was performed on Mia by WRU surgeons (see page 12 for a full exposé on this horrifyingly widespread practice), but it's been getting better. Mia and Hugo are doing so well.”

Mia and Hugo are a bonded pair, and it’s well-known that splitting up bonded pairs can cause lasting mental damage. Luckily, in their case it doesn’t seem to have been too bad, in large part due to the determination of the ex-pets and those who care for them. And a part of that lies too in Mia’s retraining, or ‘refurbishment’, as WRU calls it, eight years after her original sale.

I ask Mia if she can tell me any more about her training as a Romantic, and she nods, head in Hugo’s lap now.

"My– my handler raped me every day. Sometimes– sometimes multiple times a day, especially– especially early on. He also– also used sensory deprivation to make– to make me more affectionate. I’m not– I’m not sure what’s originally me and what’s– what’s training anymore. His sister raped– raped me too, when he took me home for– home for Christmas. For the– the situational trials as part of– of training. And then I– I wanted to have sex with– with Sandip so she’d– she’d want me. I wasn't– wasn't wanted if I wasn't useful. But it wasn't– wasn't true. It wasn't true. It wasn't true."

Mia repeats that to herself as Hugo pulls her into a tight hug, Sandip’s hand on her shoulder.

Both Mia and Hugo have been through hell together, and although they're getting through it with the help of Sandip and other friends, family and local organisations, gaining independence and discovering who they are, there are thousands out there still suffering, who need our help. These two show that although a recovery isn’t easy, it can be possible, with the right care.

And as for our trio here, any last words and hopes?

“I'd like to go a night without a nightmare,” says Hugo. “Just once.”

“Animals are treated better in law than human pets. And until that changes, any so-called improvements will be nothing but a smokescreen. But they give hope, and sometimes, hope is what’s needed most.”

“I– I never want to lose Hugo or Olu again. No– no part of them. Never again. No-one should– should have to lose someone they love like– like that. And you can– you can help, you don’t have to– have to participate in a system that hurts people, please. No matter your– your past, or who– who you are. You can– you can still help.”

#bbucommunity #day10 #sanctuary pigeonwhumps #anita oc #theo oc #785 oc #whump #whump writing #whump art #whump design #whumpee and caretaker #bbu #pet whump #box boy universe #box boy #box babe #multiple whumpees #lol its just gone midnight #you can tell ive been looking forward to this #man theo is so much more confident here than early on #and obv they edited the interview a bit but still #is it normal to be proud of your own ocs? #eh dont care i am anyway

[pigeonwhumps]

Routine

Finding Safety masterlist

Whump Girl Summer day 4: Rescue

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages @flowersarefreetherapy @painful-pooch

Pet thinks about her weekly routine, and eventually, with the help and encouragement of a nice delivery man and his cousin, makes a change to it.

3.3k

CWs: BBU, pet whump, conditioned whumpee, shock collar, implied rape/non-con, beating, dehumanisation, brief whumpee thinks caretaker is new master (at the end), mention of scarification, mention of public humiliation, mention of starvation

Pet's weekly routine doesn't change much. Every day, she wakes up in time to make Sir's breakfast (three rashers of bacon, two fried eggs, two slices of toast, and exactly eight ounces of orange juice) and get him ready for work. Sometimes, if she's good, he'll give her a pat on the head before leaving.

Sometimes, if she's not, he'll leave her with shoulders mottled and aching.

Then she has to clean the house until it's spotless, and everything's in the correct position. There's not a speck of dust to be seen once she's finished, not an object out of place.

On Mondays, the shopping's delivered. The doorbell is connected to her collar, the low shock making sure she knows it's been pressed, but the delivery man doesn't ring it anymore. She's not sure why.

It's always delivered by the same young man. He's nice, talks to her like she doesn't have a collar around her neck. Brings the shopping all the way into the kitchen when he doesn't have to. His name is Mr Jason.

One day, he hands her a slip of paper with a phone number on. Tells her that if it ever gets too much, this life, to call someone called Sandy on that number.

She's okay though. Why wouldn't she be? This is the life she chose.

She puts the shopping away perfectly, everything in its place, exactly where it should be. Exactly where Sir requires it.

She sorts, irons and stores the laundry twice a week, hers (maid outfits, which according to Sir's friend are fashionable) hanging in a small closet in his room. Everything that Sir gives her is in her closet. She doesn't have much – a pet bed, clothes, disciplinary tools that make her shiver to look at them so she tries not to unless it's absolutely necessary – but it's everything she needs. Sir takes care of her every need, she doesn't need anything of her own.

Sometimes she bakes. Sometimes she cooks. Sometimes she does neither. Sir doesn't always have a plan for his meals, and on those occasions, Pet knows she has to wait until he's home, until she can receive clues or instructions on what he wants. She always bakes on Thursdays, so he can have enough homemade snacks to sustain him throughout the week.

Once the day's chores are complete, she has to clean herself. That's important. Even if she will undo the work after Sir gets home, she has to be clean and presentable and smell nice for him when he does. Everything has to be perfect.

She washes herself, every nook and cranny, carefully scrubbing between her fingers and toes, making sure to use the strongly-scented soaps and conditioner that Sir likes so much.

Ten minutes before Sir is due to arrive home, Pet's shock collar goes off. It's a low setting, just to let her know Sir needs her. She inspects the house, making sure that everything's in its proper place. No room for sloppiness here.

Five minutes later, it goes off again. She starts the coffee maker. It takes five minutes to brew, and then it will be ready for her to pour him a cup when he gets home. She has to turn it on at exactly the right moment, his coffee mustn't be too hot or too cold. Then she kneels beside the front door, ready to welcome Sir home.

The first thing he does, once he's drunk his coffee, is inspect the house, and her, thoroughly. He strips and examines every part of her, and her clothes, and then does the same with the house. Every speck of dust missed, every part of the bathroom that isn't sparkling enough, every packet that isn't in exactly the right place, it all gets tallied up. Everything wrong with her, too, a slightly loose hair ribbon, a drop of damp left between her toes, a minute incorrection of posture, that all goes down. That's the number of hits her shoulders will take. Punishing her is, apparently, Sir's work de-stressor. That's what he said to his friend once, and Pet remembers. She always remembers. She has to, she can't afford to make mistakes.

The tally goes down on the big chart, too, along with anything unusually good she's done, in preparation for Sunday.

That evening, as every evening, she is at Sir's beck and call, serving his every request. Her collar vibrates frequently as he calls on her often, sometimes for drinks, food, company... and sometimes for other things.

Pet's collar is like a bell in those old-timey British films Sir likes to watch, she muses sometimes. It calls her to service. Only the collar is silent, and it hurts, too.

Silent. Silent like she is. Silent like she has to be, because that's the way Sir likes it. Unless Sir requests otherwise, of course. Silent movements, silent chores, silent as a mouse. Only squeaking for his amusement when her punishments become entertainment.

On Monday and Wednesday evenings, Sir takes her into his bed and has sex with her. He's talked about experimenting, he's used a few toys, but nothing major. Not yet.

She's not sure how she feels about that idea.

On Fridays, Sir works from home. She doesn't spend all day doing chores then, instead she waits on him, bringing him drinks and snacks and papers, whatever it is he needs when he calls for her. Stress relief, sometimes. If she's lucky it just involves roughly petting her, but it's often more than that. She's used to the taste by now, though, it's okay. Whatever Sir wants is what she wants. Even if it leaves her black and blue and red, or with a sour taste in her mouth and an aching jaw.

Her neck hurts the most on Fridays, shivering with phantom shocks for hours more that night, after even the mice have settled down and gone to sleep.

On alternating Saturdays, Sir goes out with his friends, or they visit each others' houses. Some of them have pets too. Some just like to play with her. She doesn't like it quite so much.

Her least favourite game is when they take the pets out someplace public, and she has to stay perfectly still and silent, perfectly secretive, as they do what they like to her. The first pet to cry out or be otherwise noticeable loses.

She doesn't like to lose. That's never good. Sir doesn't like it at all. It's especially bad if a member of the public notices, says something. She hates it when that happens.

Then come Sundays. A lazy lie in for Sir with plenty of sex, and then the charging of the three sets of shock collar batteries that have been used that week. That's when she gets her punishment.

It could be a reward, of course, in theory, if she made up enough good points on her tally, but she could never do that. She's not certain it's even possible, or if Sir rigs it. He might.

Sir has used lots of different punishments in the past. Stress positions, beatings, small cuts in sensitive places. Nothing that will scar.

The only scars she has are the section of her right shoulder that Sir and his friends use as an ashtray, and Sir's initials on her inner thigh, where no-one else can see. The latter, he called scarification, seeming very pleased when he did it.

She's not pleased. She thinks she should be, but she isn't.

Sir has a special wipe-clean room for Sunday punishments, in the basement, that she has to clean until it's spick and span. That's what he says, spick and span.

His current favourite punishment is to tie her spread-eagled to hooks in the floor and ceiling, upside-down and naked, and just beat on her with whatever's to hand. Sometimes, it is his hand. She's had broken bones a few times, although Sir usually tries not to do that. He says bruises make her look prettier, so they're fine, provided they can be mostly covered up. He tries to avoid them in the places her clothes won't cover.

Bruises are socially acceptable on pets, although not too many. Apparently.

Then, once the batteries are charged and the shock collar is back on, it's time for a film and a takeaway. If Pet's lucky, if she's affectionate enough, she'll be hand-fed the leftover crusts and crumbs. Otherwise, it's her usual pet food, ordered on a subscription from somewhere she can't read the logo of. Enough to keep her fed, bones peeping through the skin like they should in fashionable pets. That's what all the magazines show, the ones that Sir flicks through and then discards with a snort. But there's no variety, and sometimes she finds herself wishing that there was.

She ignores the look of pity the delivery man gives her as he hands over the bags of warm food. She always does. She's as wide-eyed and pleading as possible with Sir, so much nudging affection, and maybe, hopefully, this time she'll be allowed some of his tasty leftovers. Maybe even tasty food of her own, one day.

Sir's friend petsat once, and she got a pet ice cream from his girlfriend then. It was like a cloud on her tongue.

A cold cloud. Maybe clouds are cold, though, it's not like she's ever been up there.

Sometimes she daydreams about having an ice cream again.

She daydreams about clouds, too. She likes to watch them skud past. Shape them, mould them, name them. Pretend they're something they're not.

Sometimes she feels like she's pretending too. Waiting for a gust of wind to blow her out of this life and into another.

This is the life she chose. But she isn't sure she'd choose it again.

One Monday, Mr Jason arrives with the shopping. He looks at her, wearing a posture collar over her shock collar because Sir thinks she isn't good enough, bruises peeking out from under the sleeves and skirt hems. Everything aches, she could barely move for aching that morning, bruised stiffness setting in. She's one wrong step away from being sent to a retraining centre, though, and regardless of that she'd have to do her job, so she goes through the motions of it all.

And then there's a knock on the door, and her careful posture, the way she's holding herself to keep the weight away from the worst pain, almost breaks.

Mr Jason takes one look at her. Just one look, catching so much, and he says two words.

"Call xem."

So Pet does. After Mr Jason's left, she calls, doing her chores at the same time. She can't read the numbers but she copies the shapes into Sir's landline. They speak for hours, as Mx Sandy works out a plan.

Her beating that evening is worse than normal because of her inattention during the call, with a metal and leather cane as Sir orders her to select the weapon that will cause the most pain without scarring or breaking anything. She obeys, her posture apparently not at its best still. She'll have to work on that then.

The next day, Sir comes home with a yoke and a box of pet cams. He explains that they're so Sir can watch her at work, to see why she's misbehaving so much, and then he can send her to the trainers with appropriate instructions the next time he goes on a business trip. He says that he doesn't understand what's happened, but that her behaviour needs fixing.

Pet thinks that perhaps, if he was a little more careful with his Sunday punishments, then it would be easier for her to behave during the week.

At least she won't have to go on the business trip. She feels sorry for the rental pet he'll undoubtedly get, though.

Then Sir makes her kneel and passes the yoke over her head, fastening it around her neck. The wooden sides sit on her shoulders, draping slightly over the very tops of her arms. It's not too bad like this, but then he fastens weights to it, and she struggles to keep her shoulders at the correct height.

This is to fix her posture. She's going to wear it for the next week and then they'll see how she is. Whether he also needs to spend money on training her in that, too.

The yoke worked on his friend's pet, apparently. DIY posture training. Pet remembers seeing it on him, at Sir's friend's house. It looked like it hurt.

She's grateful that she at least doesn't have to wear it at night. A small shock emits from her collar when it is to go on and off.

She can't read a clock, but she doesn't need to with her shock collar.

Sir's going to install the cameras the weekend after this, when his friend's free to help. Pet calls Mx Sandy the next day, making sure to be very careful with the landline, and xie moves the plan forward a week.

On Saturday, Sir's friends come to visit. Not the camera-installing one, thankfully. They laugh at Pet in her yoke, and hang weights from it and use it as an increasingly heavy table until she collapses. Then Sir, drunk Sir, the worst kind of Sir, breaks a glass on the back of her head, the one that cracked when she fell.

Now her head is covered in cuts and beer and then stinging cuts.

She hates them all. She knew it was coming, they did it to another pet before, but it still hurts. Why can't Sir care without hurting her? Is that the only way to be loved, as a pet?

It seems to take a very long time, but Monday finally comes. Mr Jason arrives at the normal time, his eyes widening when he sees her. She's glad he's not seeing her at her worst, at least.

He helps her put away the shopping quickly, side-by-side, exactly the way she'd do it alone. The longer time frame there is for an investigation into her departure, the better. Then he leads her outside.

They can't leave the yoke or collar here. Both are padlocked on, it would be obvious she had help.

"In here, until we get out of the gates. My cousin's in the back."

He helps her climb into the truck, where she collapses to her knees, the weight suddenly too much. The person who must be Mx Sandy peers out from behind a stack of crates.

"Hi. I'm Sandy. Let me help you get those things off?"

Pet nods, crawling as close as she can, and Mx Sandy meets her in the middle.

"Okay. Let's see if I can pick these locks. I'm going to come around behind you now, don't panic."

Pet nods, and Mx Sandy clambers behind her, fiddling with the locks on her yoke. Xie lifts the yoke off, and Pet's head sags. It feels suddenly weightless, but she's too weary to hold it up.

There's a tiny click and Pet's leather shock collar is peeled away. She swallows hard and doesn't feel the press of soft leather or plastic against her throat. It's strange.

"That's better, I bet. Put this jumper and shoes on. Maid outfits aren't uncommon with pets around here and I don't want people getting suspicious."

Pet nods and shrugs on the knee-length green jumper and trainers Mx Sandy hands her. They're surprisingly comfortable. She pulls down the sleeves until they're exactly even on both sides, and checks that the laces are symmetrical.

As clothes should be.

"Thank you, mx."

"Just Sandy. Ready?" Pet nods again, unsure what she's meant to be ready for, and Mx Sandy knocks hard on the metal dividing them from Mr Jason.

A few seconds later, the lorry comes to a stop, and Mr Jason rolls up the back of the lorry.

"We're walking the rest of the way," explains Mx Sandy– no, just Sandy. She has to be exactly right. She can't make another mistake. "Safer for Jay that way."

He holds out his hand to help Pet out, and she takes it, stepping down as gracefully as she can manage. "Good luck. See you next weekend, cuz."

Sandy makes a face at that. "Don't get caught."

Mr Jason (Jay?) climbs back into his lorry and drives away, leaving Pet alone with Sandy in the large, empty, secluded car park. Xie takes her hand before she can worry too much.

"Let's go. It's not far from here."

Pet keeps her head high as they walk, graceful, elegant. A good pet should always be so. Even, maybe especially, if everything still aches and she's struggling to hold herself up. That's good, it means she still knows how to behave, if she can do that.

They keep walking until they reach a brick house in a nondescript street, and Sandy unlocks the door, leading Pet inside.

There's nobody around, although there's signs of inhabitance everywhere. Clothes draped over doors, shoes piled by the entrance, a whiteboard covered in sheets of paper and pictures drawn in drywipe. She has the urge to tidy it all up before someone gets in trouble for it.

"Dryer's broken at the moment. I'll show you to your room, Tom's out at the moment so it's all yours. I suggest you change and take a nap before we do anything else."

Pet nods, and follows Sandy upstairs. The room is spacious, two single beds lined up neatly opposite each other. One has plain blue covers, neatly tucked, while the other's are a repeating safari pattern.

Pet's not sure what a safari is, or where the headache comes from, but she pushes it away as she has done so many times before.

The blue-covered bed has a neat pile of clothes at the end, and she picks them up, carefully changing into them as Sandy quickly turns xier back. The fleecy pyjamas are warm and soft, covering her nicely but leaving her forearms free. She certainly never had clothes this soft from Sir and she wraps her arms around herself, savouring the lack of thin, scratchy material that made up her usual outfit with Sir.

Pet notices a clock on the wall. That's reassuring, somehow. Maybe Sandy doesn't rely on electric shocks to tell xier pets the time.

"The bed's for you to sleep in. Take a nap for as long as you need, I don't intend on timing you or anything. You must be exhausted."

"Thank you, mx. What are my duties when I wake up?"

Sandy pauses for a moment. "We'll work that out when you're feeling better. Nothing more than anyone else here. One thing I'd like you to start thinking about is your name. I want you to choose one you like, rather than Pet. Is that okay?"

Pet nods. She's going to have to keep a close eye on Sandy to choose a name she can be sure xie'll like, but that's acceptable, if nerve-wracking. What if she chooses the wrong name?

Still, she can't disobey.

"Yes, mx."

At a gesture from Sandy she climbs into the bed, curling the duvet around herself until it covers her completely. She's so warm, she doesn't remember the last time she was so comfortably warm.

Sandy rests a hand on her head and she leans into it. She knows she'll have to pay for the non-earned kind touches later, but that's okay. They make her feel so much better that that's okay.

"Go to sleep, honey. We'll sort everything out when you wake up."

And she does. And for the first time in years, she sleeps without being awoken by a shock collar.

#whump #whump writing #sanctuary pigeonwhumps #xiu oc #sandy oc #jason oc #waw2023 #whumpgirlsummer #captivity #bbu #box boy universe #box babe #pet whump #lady whump #whumpee and whumper #whumpee and caretaker

[pigeonwhumps]

Contract 2

Bug and Company masterlist

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages @flowersarefreetherapy @painful-pooch @whumplr-reader

Introducing Bug's primary handler.

696 words

CWs: BBU, pet whump, whumper pov, creepy whumper, sadistic whumper (sadism only mentioned), dehumanisation, institutional pet whump, mentions of breaking people, mentions of torture

Bill jerks awake when the papers slap him in the chest.

"I wasn't asleep, and they're secure anyway," he murmurs. Then he sees who's standing over him and scrambles backwards. "Shaniqua. You're 134U's primary?"

"The one and only." She smirks down at him. "You're lucky it is me. Sleeping on the job? What would people think?"

Bill shrugs. "The paperwork's finished, this sofa's comfortable, and the new pet isn't doing anything interesting."

"I didn't think you'd have finished staring at their tits yet. Apparently, I was wrong."

"You were. I mean they're cute, and their tits are gorgeous, but there's not enough fear there yet. There's only so long you can watch a pet stay in one place when you're unable to do anything to them."

"You should become a handler. We'd love to have you."

"But then I wouldn't get to watch the intake. That's the fun part, especially with defiant ones. Getting to watch their fear and resignation."

"Oh yeah, that reminds me." She whistles sharply. "726E, heel."

A young man trots into the room carrying two plates of food and a jug of water. Bill raises an eyebrow. Shaniqua doesn't usually eat while she works.

"The nachos are for you. And you'll see what I'm doing with the rest of it. 726E, place everything on the coffee table."

726E obeys, then kneels gracefully at Shaniqua's feet. She ruffles his hair.

"Good boy."

Bill remembers this one, he thinks. One of his most defiant intakes initially, but so quick to snap like a twig at the first hint of pain.

"Entertainment class, huh? What tricks can he do?"

Shaniqua grins. "Roll over. Play dead. Freeze."

The pet freezes like a statue, one arm and a leg in the air.

"Okay, back to default."

He moves back to a knelt position at Shaniqua's feet.

"You've done wonders on him," says Bill admiringly. "Final test today?" Shaniqua nods. "How do I help? Surprisingly, my shift has never actually ended up coinciding with one before."

She chucks a mostly-full notebook onto his lap. "Stay with him while he watches the new intake, and write down whenever he has any sort of reaction to it. I need to make sure they're in line with what his prospective wants."

"Gotcha. Can I play with him?"

"Later. If you promise to be extra good in bed tonight."

Bill grins, already relishing the thought of both. "Now that's a deal I can get behind."

"Excellent." She pats the carpet at Bill's feet, and 726E crawls over, kneeling there instead. Then she wanders over to the intake room (plate and jug in hand) and peers through the floor-to-ceiling window at the new pet. "Certainly cute. Good call on the hair, by the way. I'm surprised though. That's a lot of restraints, even for you. Your manipulation skills going?"

"The information their foster parents gave was sparse, and they don't have a lot that I can guess they care about. Brute force was the best way to go."

Shaniqua whistles lowly. "Okay, yeah, I get it. Not so easy to use that. Wow. I feel like I'm gonna have a lot of fun with them."

Bill chuckles. He knows she enjoys using the more advanced methods to break and rebuild pets, that's why she did extra training, but she doesn't always get much of a chance.

"Just... I don't know, be a little careful? We spent a lot of money on them. You remember how long you had to spend training on X-designated pets before you learned where to stop."

Shaniqua flips him off without looking, and he smiles. She gets irritated by him constantly bringing that up, but it's true. She probably has the highest track record of Xs entirely destroyed. It's a good thing that's why they keep them.

Shaniqua squares her shoulders, grins, and saunters into the intake room. The door locks automatically with a quiet snick, a sound all pets learn to be afraid of.

He picks up a cheese-covered nacho and pops it in his mouth, nudging the pet at his feet to make sure he's in his peripheral vision. Now to sit back and enjoy the show.

#sanctuary pigeonwhumps #bill oc #shaniqua oc #whump #whump writing #bbu #box boy universe #pet whump #box boy #boxie #whumper pov #whumpee and whumper #creepy whumper #sadistic whumper #bill and shaniqua have a conversation #they are both deeply horrible people

[pigeonwhumps]

Max and Maria

Sanctuary masterlist

Bug and Company masterlist

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages @flowersarefreetherapy @painful-pooch

Anita and Theo help a pair of runaway pets.

This is early on, a few months into Theo living with Anita (and well before Anita starts officially working for pet lib). The concept of an inspection agency was created by @justplainwhump.

Introducing new OCs that will definitely appear again.

2.1k

CWs: BBU, pet whump, sadistic whumpers, mentions of red room torture, mentions of selling someone for sex, mentions of rape, restraints, collar, mentions of muzzle, mentions of whipping and belting, mentions of being forced to rape someone else on camera, starvation, dehydration, conditioned whumpee, implied non-con surgery, injured whumpee, bite wound, scared whumpee, dehumanisation

Anita props herself up on her elbows, looking around. It's a lovely day. She smiles down at Theo, napping in the afternoon sunshine. Picnics here every week for months, and he's finally relaxing.

She hears footsteps coming their way and turns around, frowning. They're running, which would be normal (if not too smart on a day like today) except... they don't sound relaxed. Not in the slightest.

There's two people, a man and woman. They're holding hands, and they don't seem to notice their surroundings too well as they run past. They're not in good shape, clothes torn and wearing collars, the woman's delicate while the man's is thick and worn. There's a bell hanging off the man's collar, dented like someone's punched it.

"Come on," mutters the man, "come on. You can run, you have enough stamina normally, we need to go."

She stumbles but keeps going, and soon they're out of sight in the trees.

Runaway pets. Anita hopes they manage to get away.

A few minutes later, she hears more people and the sound of angry grumbling.

"Fucking animals. When I get them back I'm gonna whip that mutt to within an inch of his life, belt the bitch, and then make them fuck each other for the camera. The least we can do is make some money out of this."

"I told you to restrain them properly before we left, Harold," says a woman, sounding far calmer and more polished, if irritated. Anita holds Theo close and drapes the picnic blanket over him. She's not letting them near him.

"Yeah. Well. That collar can go tighter. And I'm using barbed wire for the mutt next time. As for the bitch, we'll think of something. Rent her out maybe. Her stamina's incredible, and she'll be begging to eat someone out after I've starved her long enough."

Anita freezes, her insides filling with churning anger. At this rate they'll be lucky if she just lets the pets escape, she'd prefer to kill their owners with her bare hands.

They make a beeline for her, and she forces a polite expression as the woman opens her mouth.

"Excuse me. Have you seen two runaway pets around here?"

Anita nods, pointing across the park from where the pair ran. "Over that way. They didn't look well, are they alright?"

"Don't worry, they will be once we've finished with them. Thank you."

"My pleasure."

Harold snorts as they start walking again. "I knew pets were thick, but really? That's the manor house. No cover, plenty of cops. It's almost no fun."

Anita waits until they're out of sight, then starts packing everything into her and Theo's rucksacks hurriedly. A small pale hand reaches over to help, and she looks at Theo, apparently wide awake. He looks even paler than usual, worried and confused.

"Helping pets," she signs, and Theo's face clears a little, but not entirely.

"Why?" he signs in return. Still not comfortable speaking much to her, then.

"Recapture squads. They won't escape without help. Stay here if you like."

Theo shakes his head, shouldering his rucksack. The message is clear: he's going to help.

She points in the direction the runaways went, and they follow, looking around carefully. It's Theo who spots them, of course, leaning against a tree, the woman looking almost too exhausted to stand and the man agitated. He growls as they approach, showing sharp steel implants instead of teeth. She raises her hands.

"I'm Anita, this is Theo. We're here to help. Please let us, or I'm afraid your owners will find you. We sent them off in the wrong direction but it can't be long until they find you."

The Guard Dog growls again, shifting on his feet, standing over the woman protectively. She taps him on the back, and when he turns, gestures to her thigh. He cocks his head, looking around, and then nods, baring his teeth in warning.

"Thank you."

Anita sees what's wrong immediately and bends down, tearing her towel into strips. She's not going swimming now, and anyway, the woman's thigh is bleeding.

"A bite mark?"

"They got rough."

Bastards. "Is that all?"

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you."

"It's just the decent thing to do. I can't wrap either of your feet, it'll draw attention, but let us remove your collars."

The man eyes her warily and then nods sharply. He crouches down and she goes on tiptoe, reaching for his neck, keeping her eyes on their surroundings because all four of them are vulnerable like this.

It's a fiddly clasp to remove the thick leather band but luckily not locked, although she has to pull it away from his neck with some force. She soon sees why: in addition to the electrocuting prongs at the front she was expecting from a bastard like Harold, the inside is lined with spikes, his neck smeared with blood.

"I'm so sorry."

He shrugs. He's not saying much, but she sees the old outline of a muzzle on his face and she thinks she knows why. Still, better for them all if she doesn't know names.

Theo passes her the woman's collar, which she drops into her bag with a look of distaste. No bell, no electric shocks or other methods of punishment, but this one has a heart-shaped tag. She pulls out the picnic blanket at the same time, holding it out for the man.

"Here. Put this around your shoulders. And you, take my jumper. Theo." She swings her rucksack onto her shoulders, and signs, "Bread crusts?"

"Where are we going?" asks the man uncertainly.

"Ice cream, then feeding the ducks. Like a normal, average day at the park. This way."

The two runaways exchange glances and follow. They're not silent, and Theo drops back when Anita frowns at the limping footsteps and the girl's whimpering. She's not sure what he's doing but it seems to help. The man doesn't growl, cementing her theory that it was Anita he was growling at. As a non-Guard Dog pet, one who helped the woman at that, he probably doesn't see Theo as a threat to either of them.

And he's not. Not really. He's taken self-defence classes and she'd bet he'd be willing to take people on if necessary, but he really is incredibly kind. Sometimes she wonders what he was like before his conditioning. Whether he was so kind. What was going on in his life that made him volunteer. She hopes he wasn't quite so scared.

She orders four ninety nines, and Theo takes his enthusiastically, licking it with a huge smile. The man serving doesn't take a second glance at the two runaways – they're not wearing collars, after all, and dirt and not too many clothes is a common sight in this park in summer. The former Guard Dogs sighs, closing his eyes, his whole body relaxing as he takes a long lick. The Romantic bites hers, a few bites and it's gone. She looks like she regrets it, eyeing Theo's bag of bread crusts longingly.

Just how starved is she?

"We have more food, I'll fetch it for you later."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Anita nods. "The pond's this way."

Theo hands out bread crusts, and at a quick sign from Anita reaches into her rucksack, pulling out some apples and a hunk of cheese. It's not very sophisticated food, she feels a little guilty about this being their first meal while free, but they didn't even get as far as cutting up the food before Theo fell asleep. He hands Anita some fresh bread as well.

"Cheers. Share this between the three of you. There's a bottle of water each as well." She signs this to Theo too. The former Guard Dog shares out the food between the three of them, and the woman looks at her, grateful tears in her eyes. Anita feels uncomfortable. She's so thin, and injured, anyone with any decency would give her something to eat and drink.

The Guard Dog doesn't eat the bread, instead handing extra to Theo and the woman. He savours his food like it's the first he's eaten in months.

Maybe it is, with that muzzle scar and the casual threat of starvation by Harold earlier. They both drink their whole bottles at once, and Anita hopes they won't be sick later.

As they approach the lake, a flock of goslings run up to the woman, walking over her feet. She smiles, crouching down and hand-feeding them bread.

Anita watches in amazement. She's never seen anyone able to hand-feed geese before. Who was this woman?

Sometimes she finds it hard to think of pets as people, as guilty as that makes her feel, but then something like this happens, and she finds herself suddenly, violently hit by the fact that these people had whole lives and hobbies and relationships before all of this.

It's not fair.

"They're Canada geese goslings," murmurs the man, looking at the woman softly. "We had a nice man briefly. He introduced us to his birds."

Anita smiles. "She's very good with them. Was that from then?"

"She knew it all already. It hurt her but... I could tell." His eyes flick to hers briefly, scaredly. "Will she go somewhere safe? She won't survive being refurbished."

"I'll make sure you both go somewhere safe. I promise."

The man nods. He's gentle, and she wonders how he became a Guard Dog. He doesn't seem suited, somehow, despite his build.

Theo taps her on the leg from where he's dropped into his customary knelt position, and she looks at him, then in the direction that he's pointing.

That's Harold and his wife coming this way, down the path right behind them.

"Fuck. Watch the lake, feed the ducks. Stay sitting down, and Theo, I need you to stay where you are. We need to convince them at a glance that you're the only pet here."

Theo concentrates on her lips and then nods. The two runaways concentrate on feeding the ducks, the man's back ramrod straight, the woman trembling slightly.

Anita rests a hand on Theo's head, ruffling his hair. They're not wearing collars, they have decent-ish clothes, the woman's sitting down, surely they don't look enough like pets for the pair of bastard owners to look closely.

"We've lost another client. That's most of the night's profits gone."

"We can put Toffee in instead. Give her a mask, they only see her ass, nobody needs to know."

"They're paying for a trained slut, not a Domestic who couldn't even find her own hole. They'll know. No, we'll find them, red room cam scenario with whoever we have, then sell whatever's left and start again. Make plenty."

Theo clenches his fists on his knees. Anita desperately wants to attack, but she holds herself still, breathing carefully. Most of that stuff's illegal. The voices gradually get quieter, then vanish entirely. Only when there's no sign whatsoever does she turn and punch the tree.

"Fucking hell. I need to make some calls to get you safe. Theo, get the picnic restarted? We need to wait surreptitiously."

She signs the suggestion to Theo and he nods, beckoning the two runaways to follow him. Then she pulls out her phone.

She doesn't think she can rescue the Domestic herself. But she can stop them owning anyone else. And she'll call Marjorie, maybe someone can intercept the journey to refurbishment. She needs a safehouse for these two anyway.

"Hello?"

"Hey. You have safehouse contacts, right? Do any have space for two more?"

"What are their designations?"

"A Guard Dog and a Romantic. They're not bonded, but I don't want to separate them, and I'm not sure the Guard Dog will allow it anyway. The Guard Dog needs surgery, and the Romantic has a bad leg, possibly permanent."

"I'll ask around. I know someone who might have space, I'll give you more information later."

"Thanks."

"No. Thank you."

She cuts off, and Anita takes a moment to breathe before looking up the reporting number she needs. It takes days at least to organise inspections, she'll tell Marjorie when she calls later. That'll be enough time.

Besides. From the sounds of things, that Domestic would be better off refurbished than where she is now.

It's an annoying amount of warnings and notices and switchboard options before she gets through to a real person.

"Ofpets Owner Inspector Department, how can I help?"

She swallows down her nausea at the thought of providing WRU with any information. But sadly, they're her best option.

"Er, hi. My name is Anita Ranjit, and I'd like to report a situation where I believe there are pets in danger of serious and illegal harm from their owners. They may be harmed already, I don't– know, exactly, but I don't want to see them hurt if I can help it."

#bbu #box boy universe #box boy #box babe #pet whump #whump #whump writing #sanctuary pigeonwhumps #max oc #maria georgiou oc #anita oc #theo oc #multiple whumpees #multiple whumpers #injured whumpee #lady whump #disabled whumpee #or she will be very soon anyway the injuries she has now cause it #whumpee and caretaker #whumpee and whumper #sadistic whumper #conditioned whumpee #heed the warnings

[pigeonwhumps]

Blackmail

Finding Safety masterlist

Whump Girl Summer day 6: Blackmail

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages @flowersarefreetherapy @painful-pooch (plus @justplainwhump bc you've been waiting for this)

While at university in Canada, Aaliyah is forcefully reminded of her past as a pet.

Set a few years after Cass and Aaliyah move to Canada. Aaliyah's in her second year.

1.8k

CWs: BBU, pet whump, rape/non-con, sexual slurs, flashbacks, conditioned whumpee, degradation, self-degradation, blackmail, non-con nude photos, discrimination, briefly implied homophobia, dehumanisation

Aaliyah closes her laptop and removes her headphones, stretching widely. She's enjoying researching for this essay but despite her ability to stay in one place for hours at a time she's getting stiff. And her ears are aching.

Her roommate Zac looks up from his own textbook. "You want to take a break? We have plenty of time."

She picks up her tablet and chooses her words from the symbols. Zac waits patiently, something he's good at and which she's always grateful for, given how some people act about her AAC software.

"Get water. Will be quick."

"Take as long as you need, I'll look after your stuff."

"Thank you."

She heads out of the library and crosses the corridor to the water fountain, drinking as much as she can and splashing a little on her face too. It feels nice.

She hears footsteps behind her and moves out of the way in case whoever it is wants to use the water fountain.

They don't. Instead, they bark out an order.

"Respect."

Aaliyah drops to her knees before she even knows what's happening. No, this can't happen here. She didn't even realise she still did that.

She tries to get up but her body's locked. If she gets up before Master says she can–

No. No, she's not there, she's safe, Master isn't here. He never will be.

So why can't she move?

"I thought so," says a confident, sneering voice from behind her. "See, my cousin's studying in the States, and his frat house just bought a box boy. So cute and eager to please. Combination of some sort, I think. Apparently you're not gay if it's a boxie you're fucking. Anyway, he showed me their pet on a video call and it's funny. The way you cock your head, your inability to read and write, and you always cover your left forearm, no matter how warm it is or what else you're wearing. You're a WRU slut, aren't you?"

Aaliyah doesn't respond. She doesn't reach for her tablet, or move her head, or try to get up. She can't do anything, and that's probably enough of an indictment by itself.

"I knew it." The voice is gleeful now, and he grabs her arm in a bruising grip, pulling her up and pushing her along. "Disabled restroom should be free, right?"

Distantly, Aaliyah realises she should resist. Master isn't here anymore to make her do this. She doesn't want to do this.

But she's not a person. And it has never mattered what she wants.

The boy shoves her into the bathroom and she tumbles to the floor, ending up sprawled on the tiles.

She hears the lock click with a dreadful finality.

"Now, I don't know any of the positions, but I want you on your hands and knees. I'm sure you know how to do that, at least. Oh yeah. And strip."

Aaliyah obeys with shaking hands, throat tight. She wishes the floor wasn't so white and the light wasn't so bright, it reminds her too much of the facility.

She flushes as he looks her up and down. She's not sure how he knows her, but she recognises him from somewhere. The name will come eventually, she thinks.

She doesn't want him seeing her. This isn't like when she plays with Cass and Calixte, this is different, it's like she's a pet again.

No, not just a pet. Owned.

"You really are hot. No wonder you volunteered to be a slut, your looks are your best asset. I don't see why you hide them, I mean most Romantics don't, right? They seduce and manipulate using them. Your looks might not be your very best asset though, I think I'd like to try you out now. You're bottoming, obviously. Let's see how good a slut you can be for me."

Aaliyah holds back her tears as the boy climbs on top of her. She's been taught how to hide her emotions, she's an expert at it, and she blinks her eyelashes seductively at him as he positions her to his liking. She ends up on her back, legs spread between his. He looks at her like she's a banquet.

"Oh, you really are a nice-looking pet. Keep your eyes on me, I want to see your face while I fuck you. I hear you Romantics are trained to love your owners, and really, that sounds ideal."

He's not her owner. He's not. But as he opens the lube in his pocket and slicks her up, teasing her with his finger, she finds that difficult to remember.

He positions himself and slides his cock inside with a wink. Fuck. She hates this. She wishes she could go back to not caring, but now she knows what it's like not to have to do this, not to believe it's all she's worth, not to have an owner (and that's the most important thing she's learnt, and the most painful), it seems impossible to do. The boy isn't her owner, but he feels that way.

So many people fucked her in training, and then there was Jacob, too, so maybe it doesn't matter if he's her owner anyway. She's a WRU slut at heart, after all, and with her owner gone it would make sense that she's a general slut for everyone now.

No... no, that wouldn't make sense. Not the way she'd like. She has Cass and Calixte, although she doesn't want to think of them right now, doesn't want them associated with this.

She buries her emotions deep down where they can't show, covering her anger and sorrow and utter terror with a veil of pleasure. She desperately wants to curl up in a ball and cry it out but she can't. She has to behave, and do what she was made to do.

She's a good pet at heart, after all.

He fucks into her, not caring how she feels about it, and she turns the small moans and sobs that escape into sounds of enjoyment.

"Oh, you're so good at this pet, my god. Keep doing that, this is good."

Aaliyah wants to stop. Just stop, stop giving him this, stop giving in, kick him and stop him from ever doing it again. But she's a good pet, so she won't. The lights are bright and it's so white and she knows she can't disobey or she'll get shocked. The handlers will use their batons if she fights back.

No. No, she's not there, she's free. Free and still a pet and still being fucked against her will.

A hand slaps her cheek, the stinging pain bringing her back to the present.

"Hey. Bitch. Don't zone out on me now, I was enjoying your attention."

Aaliyah bats her eyelids and does what she should. It hurts, but she's made to take that, so she does, even if she desperately wishes she was somewhere else. Anywhere else.

Almost anywhere.

It seems like an eternity before he comes inside her, which is usually permission for her to orgasm too. The boy sighs blissfully and withdraws.

"You are an excellent pet slut." He does up his trousers and pulls his phone out of his pocket, cocky grin back on his face. "Just gotta do something."

Later Aaliyah will wish she had punched him or covered her face or run or something, but right now she just lets herself be manouvred. She's a pet, she doesn't have any free will, and anyway she can't bring herself to move. It's all too much, all over again. He takes photos of her face and her barcode and the two together, and other parts too, making it very clear who and what she is, and what she's done.

"Nice photos. I won't share them so long as you don't tell anyone about this. And, well. I might come up with more terms later. Gotta finish college before I can move and get a Romantic of my own, after all. Do we have a deal?"

Aaliyah nods, barely keeping the tears at bay. How did she end up like this?

"Great. See ya."

He stalks out of the bathroom without so much as a backward glance, and Aaliyah locks the door again before sinking to the floor. Now, the tears come. They can, now he's gone, she doesn't need to keep such a tight rein on her emotions now she's alone.

She didn't... how did this happen? How could she let something like this happen? She's not a person, this is a clear reminder of that, because a person wouldn't be so useless. They wouldn't have a barcode that makes them so easy to control. Master's dead and she's still a pet, still owned in every sense except the completely literal one. She scrunches up under the sink, giving herself a few minutes to cry messily, snottily. Not silently pretty, as a Romantic should.

She takes a deep breath, then another. Then she gets up and leans over the sink, scrubbing her face, wiping away the tears, making her eyes less puffy.

Maybe Zac will assume she's had a panic attack and not ask too many questions. She hopes so.

She dresses hurriedly with shaking hands, wanting nothing more than to go home and curl up in Cass' arms. But she can't do that, because then he'd ask and she'd tell him and she can't risk those photos being shared.

As a pet, she's not allowed wants anyway.

She brushes herself down, takes another deep breath, and heads back out.

Zac spots her as she re-enters the library and frowns. As soon as she's close enough, he murmurs, "Are you okay?" She nods. She's fine, she always is. "Okay. If you say so. Another half hour, then we'll go get food?" She nods again. She's in no shape to use her tablet to communicate right now. Zac squeezes her shoulder and looks back down at his textbook, frowning thoughtfully and highlighting another line.

Aaliyah opens up her laptop and puts on her headphones, pressing play. She prepares to draw down her notes and bookmark the sections she needs for her essay.

It's hard, so much harder than earlier. She was enjoying it before but now she can barely concentrate. Her head swims as she tries to settle back into the research. She has to rewind the audio of her textbook several times as she zones out, constantly replaying the last half hour or so. It hurts, physically, mentally, everything, she was hoping she'd never feel that hurt again.

She's useless. She can't concentrate, can't even read or write. She doesn't know things that everyone else finds obvious, that they all stare at her for not understanding. She's trying, she really is, but she's hopeless at it.

She's been pretending to be a person for a while now, but she's not. She never will be. She's a pet, and that's all she'll ever be.

#whumpgirlsummer #waw2023 #emotional whump #whump #whump writing #bbu #box boy universe #box babe #lady whump #whumpee and whumper #conditioned whumpee #pet whump #disabled whumpee #aac using whumpee #i think ive mentioned to a few people about aaliyah commuting to uni but ive changed my mind from her second yr #she shares a room with zac from 2nd yr onwards and honestly hes a pretty good guy #and her friend #more observant than shed like though 😅 #sanctuary pigeonwhumps #aaliyah oc #zac oc

[pigeonwhumps]

🌸 - Something that calms them

For Theo?

CWs: BBU, pet whump, implied police brutality

Theo jumps a foot in the air when Mistress suddenly crouches down in front of him.

His heart races. Stupid. He's home, of course he is. But the ankle tag weighs heavy around his leg and he can't keep his mind out of police custody.

"Sorry. Are you okay?" she signs.

Theo nods. "Distracted. Sorry, Mistress."

"It's okay, that's understandable. It's been a long couple of days." Mistress sets two thin books, a box of coloured pencils, a cup of water and a paintbrush down in front of him.

She moves her hands as if to say something else, then pauses, frowns, and adjusts the lamp instead, so it lights up her face properly. Then she speaks.

"I've brought you a couple of colouring books. There's a normal one, so you can make some inconsequential decisions, and a magic one, in case you can't face making any decisions at all. I don't blame you one jot if that's the case. I was hoping they might help you calm down."

Theo's heart lightens at the gifts. "Thank you, Mistress."

Mistress gives him a sad smile. "You're welcome. We're going to sort this, Theo. You're not dangerous like they claim, and we're going to prove that and keep you here. Yeah?" Theo nods, not entirely convinced. "Oh Theo. Can I give you a hug?"

He nods again, and she draws him into her arms, careful to avoid his numerous bruises. He closes his eyes for a moment, before quickly opening them as the memories assault him.

After a couple of minutes Mistress lets go. "Thank you. Are you okay on your own while I sort some things out?"

Theo nods, and she gives him one last smile before leaving the room.

He turns to the first page of the normal colouring book. It's a bucket and spade made up of little triangles, and he feels a little wistful for something he's never seen. Then he opens the box of pencils.

And he freezes.

There are so many of them, how's he supposed to choose? The last time he made a decision he was beaten black and blue for it, then his face was forced into the food until he almost choked. He can't make another decision.

Theo turns instead to the magic colouring book. This is better. He doesn't have to decide on the colours of this space scene, he just has to paint it, and he does so carefully, one section at a time, right up to the edges, watching as the water turns the page all different colours.

And for the first time since the mugging, since his arrest, he feels like he can breathe.

#answered ask #theo oc #anita oc #sanctuary pigeonwhumps #whump #whump writing #bbu #box boy universe #box boy #pet whump #implied police brutality #recovery whump #not as much comfort as i was expecting but hey

[pigeonwhumps]

Barcode

BBU Community Days: Day 8

@bbu-on-the-side

250 (aka Cass) gets his barcode.

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages @flowersarefreetherapy @painful-pooch

Finding Safety masterlist

CWs: BBU, pet whump, collared, non-con touch (non-sexual), discussion of future and past rape, amnesia, shock collar, electric shocks, humiliation, non-con nudity, crude language/sexual imagery and drawing on someone in Sharpie, sexual implications in body language, sexual harrassment, strapped down, gagged, muzzled, non-con photos, handcuffed, manhandling (brief, plus mentions of), non-con tattooing, dehumanisation, blindfold, sensory deprivation

"20 quid says he'll be a Guard Dog."

The other handler snorts. "Only 20? Not very certain, are you?"

"Well, what do you think he'll be?"

346250 sets his jaw best he can against the sharp pain as the needles prick against his skin, each one sending a pinpoint of ink into his arm. He doesn't know what they're drawing, his head's immovable like this, but he can guess. They tattoo it onto every pet, after all. He clenches his fist against the pain and receives a sharp slap on the knuckles for his troubles.

He can't see the handlers from this position, but he can swear he hears the shrug. "Could be a Guard Dog. The ladies would love those muscles though. And that scar... the heroic look's big this season. So, could be a Romantic."

346250 flinches as much as he can between the tight leather restraints as someone squeezes his arm, and there's two laughs. "Oh, yeah, I see what you mean about the muscles. Let me know if he gets assigned to your department. I want a turn."

"You always want a turn," says the handler, sounding exasperated.

"Boys, boys," says a woman, sounding amused. 'No touching the trainee until I've finished his barcode. You'll have plenty of time later."

"Sorry, boss."

"What do you mean, 'plenty of time later'? Do you know something we don't?"

"Just that Poppy says he's exceptionally defiant. He was the one who led 643 in the escape attempt, and he's resistant. So there'll be plenty of manhandling to be done."

346250 flinches again, his whole body this time. He was led in here by a choking hand on his collar and strapped in, ankles and legs and wrists and forearms, and torso and forehead too. Everywhere, in fact. The collar's too tight and he can't breathe properly, it's all he's wearing except for a black silicon gag that fits between his lips, pulling at his teeth, pinching the skin. And a blindfold, rendering everything completely black.

Clearly they want him to hear, though. At least for now.

A handler mentioned a fitted one. He doesn't want a fitted one. He wants to breathe.

He feels almost relaxed, though, like this. Like he's floating. As soon as the handlers stop talking he forgets what he's worrying about. He's sure there's something, it nags and worms at the back of his mind, but he doesn't remember what.

They said he's safe. He knows they're lying, they snigger behind their hands when they think he's not looking. He chose this. He didn't, he can see people in his mind that make him sad He can trust the handlers. He has to, he has to, he has to, or the electricity will come on again.

"Make the most of his compliance while it lasts, boys. I know you prefer the defiant ones, but best get him settled before he fights back."

"Right you are. I'm just about done. Anything you want to do to him?"

"Yeah, actually. Pass me that Sharpie."

346250 hears a pen uncapping and a strong smell of alcohol hits his nostrils. His chest tickles as someone draws on it.

"Mate, that might be a classic, but it won't win this week's competition. You know what Finn's prizes are like, you don't want to miss out."

"Yeah but, 643's untrained. No fun."

"I thought you boys liked the defiant ones. She's good enough without training, anyway." There's a stunned silence, and 346250's arm throbs. "What? You don't think no-one fucked her during her initial training? She was almost made into a Romantic then, after all. If it wasn't for 065 and the workers then messing it all up."

"See, this is why I'm adding you to the group chat. Like minds and all that." 346250 feels his face jostled as something metal is strapped over his mouth, and something is placed over his head that muffles all sounds. Noise-cancelling headphones, perhaps?

Someone undoes 346250's straps, leaving everything else in place. Then he's pulled to his feet and held tightly by his collar as the blindfold is removed.

There's a mirror in front of him, and he barely recognises the person in it. He doesn't remember himself, and yet it's possible not to recognise himself. He looks scared, smeared in blood, embarrassingly naked but one of the handlers cuffs his hands behind him, he can't cover himself. He sees his face go bright red. One of the handlers guffaws in the mirror, and the other makes a crude motion with his hands. The tattooist rolls her eyes.

346250 has scars he didn't know he had (and how does he know what scars he had?), injuries that he knows with a strange certainty weren't there before. The collar's black plastic, a small box attached to the front, metal prongs cold against his skin. It looks deceptively unthreatening. In his mouth is a gag, and over it, covering the lower half of his face, is a wire and leather muzzle. Like an animal. He hasn't been defiant for as long as he can remember, since they took him off that IV line. It must be a warning against misbehaviour. A threat. For fun.

He swallows a sob as he looks at his chest, a part of himself he'd been avoiding. He knew it was crude. Of course it was, they drew it in Sharpie and laughed. But somehow that's different to actually seeing it.

He has a penis drawn in black on his chest, semen spurting out of it. The words he can't make out, the handwriting's backwards and terrible and he has a splitting headache, but he assumes they're equally as crude.

It'll wash off eventually. It will. But that's the only comfort.

And on his arm... on his left arm is a tattoo. The tattoo. Black and bold against the tan of his skin, crisp, clean lines portray a barcode with a set of numbers below. 346250, he presumes. Marking him out forever as a pet.

It's okay though, he's safe here. He's not. It was his choice. It wasn't. It won't hurt too much. He doesn't know what they'll do to him.

He can survive. Whatever happens, he can.

Can he?

A handler steps in front of him, mobile phone in hand. He winks at 346250, pointing at a toy monkey on his head for the new trainee to look at. A flash goes off.

They're taking photos. Oh, god.

In the mirror, 346250 sees the other handler pull out the small black remote and turn the dial. Then he presses the button.

The trainee falls to his knees, attempting to claw at his neck as his vision goes white, gag-muffled screams reverberating in his ears, he can't hear them on the outside so they're all inside instead, shocks shaking his jaw and his limbs, sending them jerking and thrashing. All he can feel is pain, all he can think about is the pain of it, the sensation, he can barely breathe.

When he comes to, limbs twitching and jerking against the cold tile floor, he realises they're still taking photos.

#bbucommunity #day8 #bbu #box boy universe #box boy #wru #whump #whump writing #sanctuary pigeonwhumps #cass oc #poor bb #i continue to fill prompts less than id like to #whumper and whumpee #multiple whumpers #pet whump #mind the tags

[pigeonwhumps]

New Year at WRU

Sanctuary masterlist

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages @flowersarefreetherapy @painful-pooch

065 and 785 help staff a WRU New Year's Eve party.

3.6k

CWs: BBU, pet whump, dehumanisation, ableism, multiple whumpees, multiple whumpers, partly whumper POV, caning, electrocution, conditioned whumpee, collar, shock collar, abusive partygoer, non-con touch (non-sexual)

065 holds out the tray of canapés to the group of handlers, Romantics and Platonics. Well, mostly just the handlers, the pets aren't allowed to eat without permission and 065 suspects some of the handlers are enjoying withholding it.

Not many of the pets have eaten yet today, and 065's stomach twists at the smell of food. It's been even longer since he and 785 last ate.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his handler beckon and heads over to him. He's standing with a group of three strangers, two middle-aged people and a man in his early twenties, all dressed to the nines. They look similar – a family, maybe?

Once he reaches them, 065 bows slightly, holding out the tray. The guests and his handler take a canapé each. There's only two left now before he'll have to get a refill.

"Clients," says the handler, before turning his attention back to the guests. 065 watches closely, trying to read their lips – a tricky task when the light's wrong and the clients are barely facing him. At least his handler is.

"Not for sale, but... demonstration..."

The woman says something 065 can't make out, and the handler nods.

"... bonded pair... both..." 065 can barely make out anything his handler says, certainly not enough to piece together. It worries him. What are they saying about 785? What do they want? The male client nods, and the handler looks directly at 065, signing.

"Get 785, go to the stage."

"Yes, sir."

065 heads off, weaving his way around the crowd to where he can see 785 serving a group of guests. One has a hand outstretched, one of the other's head is thrown back in laughter, and 785 is standing very stiff, very still. 065 braces himself and approaches.

785 looks up.

"We're needed on stage."

She nods, and says something to the guests, accompanying 065 away from them. They look annoyed, and 065's stomach lurches. If they displease the guests they'll be punished.

Maybe– maybe they'll be happier after the demonstration.

The youngest of the clients is standing by the stage, looking a bit grumpy. 065 tries to steady his nerves as he sets his tray down, stopping far too close for comfort. It's okay, he's not allowed to hurt them. Not properly. Not here, not tonight.

_

Michael Jones sips his champagne as he watches his trainees set up on stage with the Ainsworth heir. They look good together, in their black shirts, trousers, shock collars, and shiny shoes, the red bracelets denoting their ownership status lending a bright burst of colour to the outfits. Around him, he sees other trainees' bracelets being quietly swapped by handlers as they're bought, some being introduced to their prospectives. He doesn't have to worry about that though, his trainees were custom-ordered from the beginning, he can just watch the entertainment.

The heir looks tight, angry, uncomfortable as he takes a seat beside the two kneeling trainees.

"They're a nice-looking pair," says Mrs Ainsworth admiringly, "are you sure they're not for sale?"

"I'm afraid not. Though I believe there's another bonded pair going tonight, and if it's my training you're after, if you custom order a pet from us you can request that I train yours. I may not be available though."

"We'll think about it. Let's see how well your trainees work first. What's the difference between a bonded pair and two non-bonded pets?"

"You'll see in this contest. I've requested a handicap installed, and with most pets they'd continue competing, ignoring the pet who was having a problem, but with bonded pairs, especially this one... well, you'll see what they do."

"I'm excited," says the woman. "Aren't you, Nigel?"

"Yes, dear."

They watch as a presenter describes the contest (fastest to peel the small bowl of potatoes in front of each of them – will either of the pets beat the client?). 065 watches 785's hands as she moves fast, translating the rules for him.

"What's the girl doing?" asks Mrs Ainsworth curiously.

"Translating the presenter's instructions. 065 is profoundly deaf."

"I have to say, I'm impressed with your company's efforts to include disabled pets. I suppose you have to give a deaf pet a bonded for them to manage."

Michael clenches his jaw. He has a deaf nephew who manages to live independently fine, 065 could work alone. But the clients have to be pleased. That's one commonality his job has with the trainees. "Indeed."

The three of them watch, along with some others in the hall, as the competition starts. The trainees are far quicker than the Ainsworth heir, and have peeled two potatoes apiece, three to go, before 785 stops, looking panicked. Her peeler's broken.

Just as Michael requested.

065 looks up from his peeling and sees her stopped. He frowns, and then hands over the peeler.

Mrs Ainsworth gasps in delight.

785 peels a potato and then hands it back for 065 to do one. One by one, the pair of them peel their remaining potatoes, swapping the peeler with each one.

Michael's trainees still finish before the client, both of them, and he smiles in satisfaction as people applaud politely. His pets are good at their jobs.

His smile freezes as the heir storms off stage, grabs a glass of champagne from the trainees' discarded trays and tosses it, glass and all, into 065's face.

Michael quickly excuses himself and hurries towards the stage, setting down his own glass. The boy's stormed off, and 785 is holding a napkin to 065's bloody nose.

They both look up as he approaches.

"065, go and clean yourself up," he signs, "and 785, serve a group over there somewhere. I'll sort this out."

"Yes, sir."

065 gets to his feet, napkin pressed to his nose, and exits into one of the small rooms off the hall set up for the purpose. This is the sort of thing that happens at WRU parties, although Michael wishes it didn't. It's a pain, and he doesn't like to see people damage his trainees when they haven't done anything wrong.

785 picks up a full tray of champagne and weaves her way through the hall towards a group of sponsors talking to Director Poppy Locke, head of their London branch. Good. That's good. 785 is one of their best servers, if a little clumsy sometimes, she's good for serving important guests, and if she does well tonight Michael might get a bonus, or even a promotion. He watches until she's there, and then heads to the back of the room, where the Ainsworth heir is being held by one of the Guard Dogs on security.

His eyes light up as he sees Michael.

"Your dog is touching me. Get it off me, it's disgusting!"

Michael nods to the Guard Dog, who steps back.

"Thank you."

"Not so fast, Mr Ainsworth. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"What?" He looks outraged.

"You threw a full glass at one of the pets and injured him."

"But– he's only property, he's not a person! That cannot be grounds for chucking me out!"

"Mr Ainsworth, the wilful, deliberate damage of WRU property is more than enough grounds to ask you to leave. If you don't co-operate, I will have security throw you out and I doubt you want the fuss."

"Fine, fine. Fuck all of you then." He spits at Michael's feet and storms off towards the exit. Michael gestures for the Guard Dog to follow, to make sure he doesn't return.

"You and your trainee managed to control our son. I'm impressed."

Michael closes his eyes for a second, praying for patience, before he turns to Mrs Ainsworth, who's apparently followed him.

"Indeed. She's trained for the purpose."

"Hmm. I have to leave fairly soon, before Jeremiah destroys the neighbourhood, but it appears she's for sale?"

"Yes, ma'am. You'll have to speak to her handler if you want to buy her. She's over there, in the brown suit."

"Thank you. You said there was another bonded pair for sale? I did enjoy watching your trainees, and I know they aren't for sale but bondeds may be just what we're looking for."

"Yes, they're just over there." He points to two young male pets being shown off by their handler. "One's a Romantic, the other a Domestic. They had a prospective but she had to cancel the order, so they have plenty of training. If you want them you should speak to their handler."

"I think we will, yes. A Romantic. That'll stop my husband running off so much." She chuckles and her husband, hanging back, smiles a small, pained smile. Michael forces a laugh, which seems to satisfy her as she walks off, pearls jangling.

Her husband heads in the direction of the Guard Dog's handler.

God, Michael needs a proper drink. And he can't have one until the evening's over, he gets drunk too easily to be able to handle his trainees and the guests appropriately if he does, but he can smoke. He taps the nearest free handler on the shoulder.

"I'm taking a break. Keep an eye on my trainees while I'm gone, yeah? I'll make it up to you."

"Course. Go."

Michael heads out of the back of the building and leans against the wall next to a female Guard Dog trainee on duty by the door, red bracelet glowing. She straightens up.

"Hello, um..."–he looks at her wrist–"496."

"Good evening, sir."

"Have you had an eventful evening?"

"No, sir."

"Stopped many gatecrashers?"

"One, sir. They have been handed to the Director."

"Good, good." He's fervently glad he's not on the interrogation team. He wouldn't want to see that side of Poppy Locke. "I'll leave you to your work."

"Yes, sir."

Michael lights a cigarette and walks away from the trainee, looking out over the river, reflecting the lights from the glass buildings of Canary Wharf. There's stunning fireworks visible from the event building, and he hangs onto that. At least it's looking like he won't have to train pets for that ableist woman he's been entertaining. Imagine thinking that 065 can't do his work independently because he's deaf. It's just not right.

He stubbornly ignores the niggling whisper at the back of his mind that 065 and 785's prospectives could be ableist. He doesn't know. He doesn't know, and so long as that stays true, he can pretend however he likes.

He just wants to have a nice rest of the night. 065 and 785 are generally well-behaved, he can keep half an eye on them, have some champagne, talk to his colleagues. Just let him have a good night.

"Michael Jones! You're needed inside with your trainees urgently," someone shouts, rushing towards him, and he sighs, stubbing out his cigarette. Seems like luck is just not on his side tonight. What the fuck have they done?

_

785 carries her tray over to the group surrounding the Director. She knows that's likely to make her handler happy, if she serves the most important people well, and after disappointing the clients earlier she and 065 need that.

She hopes 065 is okay. It didn't look too bad, but it could be. It was enough to get the guest, whoever he was, expelled, she can see him leaving now.

She dips her legs in half a curtsey as she reaches the group. "Would you like a canapé? They're date, blue cheese & pancetta polenta stacks."

"Don't mind if I do," says a man, grinning as he takes one. The rest of the group murmurs agreement and does the same. "Ah, you already have a prospective. That's a shame. Your pets really are pretty, Poppy. What a sight."

"Well, we do pride ourselves on making our pets suit their owners' needs. And what's needed at an event like this is good-looking, well-trained pets. This is 785, combination Domestic/Platonic designation, and part of a bonded pair."

"Well. Whoever owns her is going to be very pleased, I can tell. May I touch her? I'd like to see how well you treat your trainees. You can tell from the skin, you know. Good skincare means you're paying attention to them."

"As long as you don't damage her. She's not a Romantic, Mr Haynes, and she's not for general use."

"Of course." The man strokes a finger down 785's arm, rubbing her soft skin, and she fights not to tense. It's okay, it's okay, this is what she was created for, to serve and be good. And she doesn't want to disappoint the Director. "So soft. And so well-behaved too. I'm impressed."

"Impressed enough to increase our funding?" asks the Director, half-jokingly, as the man finally lets go of 785. He takes another canapé.

"I'd love to, my dear, but I'm afraid I can't. Some of the board members are objecting sponsoring human pet organisations at all. It's a delicate line to tread. We can keep the existing funding, though."

"I understand. Fetch us some more champagne, will you, 785?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She leaves the group and heads across the room to pick up a full tray of champagne. She's getting a headache from the smell of the food and champagne and loud noises and her empty stomach is making it worse. She just wants to curl away from the loud noises, the sharp laughter that feels like it's cutting her, the itch of the tag in her shirt, the lights, even the quiet music is like a stab in her head. It's all wrong, all too much, she wants to scream.

But she's a good pet. She's a good pet, she can control herself, so she doesn't scream, doesn't run, she keeps walking, focusing on her destination, on her task.

Focusing so hard that she misses the leg in her path and trips, tray flying, crashing, glass smashing. Her knees and hands hit the floor hard, and she stays there, head bowed, trembling. Oh no. No no no.

The room's gone silent around her, only the music and the tinkling remains of the glass rolling across the floor audible.

"785, clean that up. All of it."

"Yes, ma'am."

785 doesn't look up as she picks up the shards of glass and places them on a tray. There's so much of it, it cuts into her fingers with a sharp pain that actually helps at first, turning them red, red smears on the glass too. Some of the pieces are sharper than others, but there's so much of it.

As she places a glass handle on the tray, a pale-skinned hand joins hers, fingertips smeared with blood. She knows that hand, knows the barcode. It's 065, come to help her, as he always does. As they always do for each other. Even though he's already injured.

The crowd's murmuring now, laughter and talk and entertainment starting up again. 785 just hopes most people aren't laughing at her. They're probably not, right? This party was full of noise and laughter before she made a mistake.

"785, 065, corner of the room, on your knees," says the Director briskly, and they both obey.

"You're going to punish her, right?" asks Mr Haynes. "After she spilled that all over us?"

Oh no. Oh no no no. She was close enough to get champagne on the sponsors and so that means the Director as well and nonononono.

"Of course. Both of them, because they're bonded. Techically, their handler will be the one to punish them, since they're his trainees. Now. Shall we find you some clean clothes and talk with a more competent server?"

Hurrying footsteps approach, and 785 bows lower. That's their handler.

"Jesus Christ, what the hell did you two do?"

"It– it was me, not– not 065, sir. I– I tripped over someone's leg and– and– and spilled a tray of– of champagne."

"Over the sponsors, I'm guessing? That's why they and Director Locke are practically dripping."

"Yes, sir."

"Right. With me, both of you. Jesus Christ, I thought I could trust you to behave."

785 feels a swell of guilt. "Sorry, sir."

Both her and 065 follow their handler down the corridor and down some stairs into a small, brightly-lit, windowless room, decorated like the ones in the facility. The handler slams the door behind them, and 785 can feel his seething anger, making her tremble with fear.

"Position four, both of you, opposite sides of the room." 785 obeys, kneeling by the wall, arms outstretched. "Do either of you have anything at all to add to your account of that mess?"

"Somebody deliberately tripped 785, sir," says 065, and 785 feels a swell of fondness for him mixed with trepidation, "it wasn't her fault."

"065. I don't care if she was deliberately tripped, she's the pet, therefore it's her fault. It's always the fault of the pet. And you'll both be punished, because you're bonded. An error by one of you is an error by both. I was going to persuade the Director to let you accompany me to the next event to show off your Platonic skills, no real work necessary for either of you, but you'll be lucky if she lets you work maintenance there. I–" There's a knock at the door and the handler swears. "I'll be back in a moment. Do not communicate."

The door opens and shuts, and he's gone. 785 doesn't dare look up from the floor, if she does she might make eye contact with 065 and communicate and her handler will know she's done that, he always knows if they do something wrong, she doesn't want to get them both in trouble again. But she can hear 065's shaky breathing. He's scared, and so is she, and she wants to go to him but she can't. She can only listen to his fear and hope that their punishment comes soon, that it isn't as bad as she expects.

The door opens again and the handler's footsteps re-enter the room.

"Right. Director Locke is very angry. You made an error in front of important guests, you damaged their outfits and our reputation, and you're lucky you have prospectives or you'd be Guard Dog bait." 785 shudders. "I'm sure Director Locke will order more punishment for you later, but for now you need more than the shock collar. You'll have ten lashes on each foot with the cane, and two thirty second bursts each with the shock collar. Once we're finished, I'll leave you in here until it's time for clean-up. You can do whatever you need to in that time. Take your shoes off and keep your feet together for the caning, and brace yourself however you need to."

785 scrambles to obey, taking off her shoes and socks and bracing her elbows on the floor, one hand on her chin and the other resting on the white tiles. She knows her nails will grip the floor as soon as the shock starts and her fingertips will bleed more, but at least the pain might help keep her present.

The caning to her feet is first, ten even strokes, the same time between each one, not as hard as they could be. She hisses and whimpers as the wood strikes her sensitive soles, letting out a yelp at the last hit.

And then the handler starts on 065. He yelps on the first hit, staying mostly silent for the rest except for the hitched increases in breath every time the wood hits flesh.

Once the handler's finished with the caning, a button clicks and 785's entire body lights up. She arches her back, scrabbling at the floor, trying to count but it's all white-hot agony, she can't do it, she can barely breathe. It's pulsing, pulsing, buzzing in her ears.

Eventually, the agony dies away, but only for a few moments before it starts again. It throbs and burns and fills every part of her, stripping back everything except the pain and her failures.

When she comes to there's echoes of screams in the air and she's not sure if they're hers or 065's. Maybe both. There's a bone-deep ache all over and her mouth's dry, throat hoarse. Her fingertips hurt and when she lifts them up slowly she sees that they're raw and bleeding. Sometimes her handler takes measures to prevent that but... not today.

Discipline is a necessary and humane event ensuring the continued obedience and wellbeing of a pet. She just wishes sometimes that it wasn't.

All she can hear over her own panting is 065's harsh, ragged breathing, occasional whimpers punctuating it (or maybe that's her). The room seems to be empty now, their handler gone, and she can do what she needs to. She drags herself across the room to 065, and he pulls her up, shuffling them both back against the wall.

There's a trail of blood on the white tile where she pulled herself along, and she turns away from the sight, burying her face in the top of 065's hair. He nuzzles into her shoulder, and she holds him, probably leaving bloody fingerprints on his arm. He doesn't seem to care, her shirt collar dampening with his tears.

And then he starts to hum.

He does this quite a lot, she's noticed, when he's allowed. Self-soothing, even if he can't hear it.

But she's never heard this tune from him before. It's... familiar, somehow. Has she heard one of the handlers' sing it? Or maybe it was on at the party.

"Hm hmm hm-hm hm hmm hm-hm,

Hm hmm hm-hm hm hmmm.

Hm hmm hm-hm hm hmm hm-hm,

Hm hmm hm-hm hm hmmmm."

785 smiles fleetingly. Somehow, instinctively, she knows the words to 065's humming. It starts out in her head, voice getting stuck in her throat, but after a bit of time, of 065's humming relaxing her slightly, she manages to whisper the words, then murmur, singing along quietly.

"For auld lang syne, my dear

For auld lang syne

We'll drink a cup of kindness yet

For the sake of auld lang syne."

065 smiles against her neck as he hums. He's so close to her throat, he must be able to feel the vibrations. She continues singing, low and soft.

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot

And never brought to mind?

Should auld acquaintance be forgot

And the days of auld lang syne?

For auld lang syne, my dear

For auld lang syne

We'll drink a cup of kindness yet

For the sake of auld lang syne."

785 presses a kiss to 065's temple. She's still scared of the Director's extra punishment, scared of their handler's anger, everything still hurts, but somehow, somehow, it's not quite so bad while she's singing with 065.

_

Michael pushes back the bubble of guilt as he slams the door behind him and heads back to the party, his trainees' choked screams and desperate scrabbles echoing in his head. They're pets, who need to be punished or they won't learn anything. It's not his fault they messed up.

He accepts a glass of champagne from a trainee Domestic just in time for the countdown to start, and he watches, when the bells chime midnight and the fireworks start, visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows, as the trainee Romantics kiss their handlers, a test of their skills (and more, judging by the gleeful and frankly lustful set to some of the handlers' faces earlier), prospectives of some of the newly-sold ones watching on or taking over. His trainees won't know it's a new year after the shock they've just had, in that room with no windows.

But then, as pets, that's not something they need to know. It's not like telling the time will be part of their skillset, after all.

And after that display earlier, he's not sure they deserve to know either.

#bbu #box boy universe #box boy #box babe #pet whump #lady whump #multiple whumpees #multiple whumpers #public whump #sanctuary pigeonwhumps #785 oc #theo oc #michael jones oc #whump writing #whump #its evil corporate party time!

[pigeonwhumps]

Contract 1

Bug and Company masterlist

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages @flowersarefreetherapy @painful-pooch

Bill explains the process of the contract signing to Bug.

609 words

CWs: BBU, pet whump, whumper pov, stress position, restrained, non con nudity, creepy whumper

The guards move to the sides of the room, into 134U's blind spots, and Bill smirks, sitting down at the table and resting his feet on it. The new pet looks a treat. Their legs are folded under them on the chair until they stretch a little way up their back, their wrists cuffed to their ankles. If they're in that position for too long their shoulders will dislocate, but they can always fix that. There's a bit gag in their mouth so they can't swear at him, and a harness around their head holds blinders in place (and, as a bonus, is slightly too tight over their broken nose. There's still blood dripping from that, down over the silicon gag that he won't bother to clean. It'll just get messy later anyway). There's space to attach all manner of tools, if their primary so desires, and it's a rope stretched between that and the ceiling that holds their head up. It has a little slack to allow them to nod but nothing else.

Oh, and they don't have any clothes on. Nothing at all. That's an important part of it. Not just because they look good like this, although they do, but because in his experience, humiliation is even more effective than pain in subduing a pet.

They're not awake yet. But even like this, there's a current of energy running through them. They're going to be a challenge.

Bill almost envies their primary. He might hate their parents but this... oh, he enjoys this part of his job. And this pet is a treat, he doesn't usually get to restrain them quite this much.

He gives himself a few minutes to admire the pet before standing and tipping the ice-cold bucket of water over their head.

134U gasps, eyes snapping open, startling into wakefulness. They startle again when they notice all the restraints, tugging at them fruitlessly. Bill notices that their eyes keep darting to the blinders at either side, almost like they're... scared? Interesting.

They haven't noticed him yet, and he takes advantage of that, leaning forward. "Boo."

The pet jumps and looks at him. Their eyes narrow and he can hear the silent snarl. He gives a guiless smile.

"So. It's time for you to sign your contract." He pushes the piece of paper and a pen forward. "I imagine you're not too enthusiastic about that, and I'm not going to insult your intelligence by giving you the spiel about how well we're going to treat you here. So here's the deal. You sign the contract and you'll get water. Maybe even food, although that's up to your primary handler. Until you sign, you're staying right here. In this spot. Naked, just as you are now, because you are yet to earn the right to clothes. And the window opposite is one-way glass, employees can stare through it whenever they like, I'm sure you get the implications. When you're ready to sign, just nod, and someone will be in to help you. Got it?" The pet nods. "Good. Your primary handler will be looking after you from now on, but I'll be back to check on your progress once you're better behaved. Once you'll willingly submit."

He strokes their cheek tenderly, enjoying the brief flash of fear in their eyes before they cover it with anger, and then strides out, leaving the guards in with them. Their primary will be here soon to help them sign, and he wants to watch that. Watch them. They're so cute, he bets their fear is even cuter.

He can see just as well from out here, after all.

#whump #whump writing #sanctuary pigeonwhumps #bug oc #bill oc #whumpee and whumper #whumper pov #bbu #box boy universe #pet whump #boxie

[pigeonwhumps]

The vet

Sanctuary masterlist

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages @flowersarefreetherapy

Lea gets appendicitis and has a horrible trip to the vet for emergency medical care (including a nasty surprise).

Set about three months after Lea comes to live with Anita. Well before the Diwali celebrations.

8k

CWs: appendicitis, emeto, reproductive health discussion, talk of past forced sterilisation, medical whump, medical setting, surgery, electric shocks, restraints, muzzle, leash, BBU, pet whump, dehumanisation, it/its for dehumanising (brief), fear of death, fear of abandonment, forced clothes change and stripping (non-sexual), discussion of killing in the form of putting down, conditioning, implied/referenced non-con, fear of punishment

Anita's not sure what wakes her at first.

Her room's as dark as it ever gets with the streetlight shining directly towards her window, filtered by the old not-so-blackout-anymore blind, and it seems quiet.

A tiny whimper draws her attention. Then there's a small groan, coming from the direction of the wardrobe. Anita pushes herself out of bed and heads over there – it's probably Lea, and it sounds like she's having a nightmare. Anita can't just leave her.

Her wardrobe is open a crack and she nudges it, opening it further to let in the light.

Wide, scared, pained eyes stare up at her from a ball in the clothes. This isn't a nightmare. Anita crouches down in front of her.

"Lea? Sweetheart? What's wrong?"

"Hurts," moans Lea, curling up more and clutching her stomach, "hurts, Mistress, please."

"How much? Can you move?"

Lea tries and only ends up turning over, spewing bile over the clean clothes, arms shaking as she pushes herself onto her elbows. Anita catches her before she can collapse into the pile of vomit. This isn't looking good.

"Easy, sweetheart, easy. We need to get you to some medical help, can you lean on me while I call a cab?"

Lea does so, breathing heavily, Anita's arm wrapped around her, and Anita calls the first taxi company she has saved.

"Sam's Taxis, how can I help?"

"I'd like a taxi to pick us up from Crescent Building, Park Close as soon as possible. Pet-friendly. It's an emergency. My name's Anita Ranjit."

"We'll have one out to you in a few minutes."

"Right. Thanks." She hangs up and turns to Lea. "Okay. Someone's coming. I'm taking you to the vet I'm afraid, there's no-one else this time of night. We need to get your coat and harness on, hold onto me." Lea does, grip weak, and Anita carries her out to the hallway. It's the first time she's been glad the woman's still so light. When they reach the hall Anita helps her put her coat, scarf and boots on, manoeuvring her arms into the light blue harness too. Lea whimpers.

"I'm sorry sweetheart. It's the law, I can't take you out without a leash."

"Lea?" whispers a terrified voice. Anita looks up to see Theo standing there, hands clapped to his mouth to stop himself speaking again.

"I'm taking Lea to the vets," she says clearly, and he looks even more scared. "She's coming back, she'll be okay. But she's ill. You stay here with paati, alright sweetheart?" Theo nods, still looking scared, and Anita pulls a post-it note off the noticeboard and scribbles the situation down in Tamil. "Here. Give this to Indira and ask her to read it to you." Theo nods. "Good. Come on Lea, let's get you outside."

She carries Lea down the lift (faster, why can't it move faster?), and by the time they get out to the street there's already an unfamiliar car there. The driver pokes his head out the window.

"Anita Ranjit?"

"Yeah, that's me." She hurried over to him and he steps out, opening the back door.

"That your pet? She's a cute one, isn't she?"

"Don't touch her," warns Anita as the man reaches out.

"Fine, fine." He holds up his hands and sits back in the driver's seat as Anita settles herself and Lea in the back, trying to make Lea as comfortable as possible. "Where to?"

"Blue Light Pet Hospital."

"Right."

It doesn't take long to get there, and Anita calls on the way to make sure they're ready for her. When they reach the hospital she pays and rushes inside to the reception, Lea in her arms.

"Anita Ranjit, I just called?"

"Just through there, ma'am."

Anita follows the receptionist's pointing and enters a small bright consultation room, sitting Lea carefully on the bed, an arm behind her back to help her stay upright. The fresh air seems to have helped a little but she's still weak and shaky.

"I'm Dr Rachel Archer," says the bespectacled vet, hair tied in a bun, "what seems to be the problem?"

"Lea's in pain," replies Anita, sharper than she means to.

"I need details, Miss Ranjit. Where? What sort of pain? Lea, can you tell me?"

Lea gestures weakly to her abdomen.

"Sharp. It... it was– was better but it got worse." She bends forward and dry heaves over the bed. Anita rubs her back, wondering just how bad it's been, and how long she's been hurting. She hasn't said a word.

"Hmm. I'm going to get an ultrasound room prepped." She types something in on her computer. "I need to access her medical records. Hold out your arm." Lea does so and the vet scans the barcode tattooed on it. "Right. If you just remove her coat and put the harness back on." Anita does so, seeing Lea's goosebumps as her skin's exposed to the cool air of the consultation room. "You can take your pet through there now, and then we can discuss payment methods."

Anita picks up Lea and heads out to a corridor beyond, where a woman is waiting. They follow her into a room with a bed and an ultrasound scanner. There's leather restraints on the bed.

"Just put it down here."

Anita lays Lea down on the bed and squeezes her hand. "Please, don't use the restraints unless it's absolutely necessary."

"We won't. Now if you'd like to head back to Dr Archer and we'll return your pet once we're finished."

Anita nods. "I'll see you soon, sweetheart." And she forces herself to walk out of the room.

_

Lea whimpers as the door shuts behind Mistress Anita. She's in pain, so much so that Mistress Anita noticed and brought her here, and she's going to be in so much trouble for inconveniencing her owner. And Mistress Anita says she'll be back but will she? When? Lea knows she should believe her owner but... this place... it's scary.

The woman Mistress Anita spoke to hooks her leash to the wall and starts strapping her arms and legs to the bed.

"Just a precaution. I assume you won't misbehave, but if you do, I have this." She holds up a thin black baton. "It delivers mild electric shocks, and I'll use it on your palm if you misbehave. You understand?"

Lea nods vigorously, making her head spin.

"Good. Now stay still." The woman pushes up Lea's nightdress and spreads a cold cream on her abdomen.

Lea yelps.

"Come on, stop being such a baby, it's only cream." But she can't help it. The texture is just wrong, and normally she could control her reaction to that but it hurts so much, the woman's pressing lightly on her abdomen to apply the cream and it just makes it worse. "I told you to shut up and stay still." Lea can't, she can't, it's too much, she tries but she didn't even realise she was moving, she doesn't know how to stop, and she feels a sharp, hot shock to her hand that makes her gasp. She turns to the side and throws up.

"Are you done with your little tantrum now?" Lea nods. "Good. Now I can get on with the ultrasound." As she brings over an electronic device attached to a white lead and starts running it over the cream-covered area, she mutters, "Bet you're a Romantic. Manipulating me into thinking you're well-behaved and then doing this. Wasting my time. You Romantics are always selfish like that."

But... but it wasn't deliberate. She didn't mean to waste time.

That doesn't matter though, she's still badly behaved.

Will the woman tell Mistress Anita? What if Mistress Anita decides that this means she's too much trouble to keep?

Lea fights to stay still as the woman draws the device across her abdomen and then washes off the cream.

"Right, we're done." She presses a button, then unstraps Lea and unhooks her leash. "Get up."

Lea rises as fast as she can, feeling a little dizzy. Her hand hurts now, in addition to her stomach, and she's not sure she can stand but she manages it just about, keeping her hand on the bed to steady herself.

A man in a white coat walks in and the woman hands Lea's leash to him. "You can go back now. Go with the orderly and be quick about it."

"Yes, ma'am," whispers Lea, and she follows the man out of the room as fast as she can – which isn't very fast with all the pain, and he rolls his eyes, giving her an impatient look.

_

When Mistress and Lea have left, Theo heads towards Miss Indira's room, stomach tied in knots. What's happening to Lea?

Halfway down the hallway he bumps into Miss Indira, looking tired but alert.

"Theo? I heard a commotion, what happened?"

Theo hands her the note and links his fingers behind his back, trembling. What if... what if something bad's happened to Lea? Something worse than the vets.

She ushers Theo into the front room, where he kneels on the soft rug as she turns the kettle on in the adjoining kitchen. Then she comes back to join him, sitting on the sofa.

She reads Mistress' note and then looks directly at Theo, putting the post-it down to free her hands.

"Anita says that she's taken Lea to the vet, because she's in a lot of pain, she can barely move, and she's being sick. She'll call as soon as there's an update."

Theo trembles. The vets are horrible. He's only gone once and he still has nightmares. And his old master told him that sometimes pets don't come back.

He can't lose Lea again.

What if she doesn't come back? What if Mistress comes back with her dead body? What if– what if she loses her memory again or comes back different, with bits missing or– or–

He jumps as something lands on his shoulders. What's– oh.

Oh.

It's a dressing gown. Soft and fluffy and pink. He pulls it around himself.

"Any better?" He nods. "Lea will be back, Theo. Alive and well. Promise."

Theo nods. He's not sure he believes Miss Indira, but he can't tell her that.

Miss Indira crosses the room and takes a box off the bookshelf, placing it on the coffee table where there's two mugs.

When did they appear?

Oh, he's getting so much worse than he used to be. So much more badly behaved. He didn't even notice Miss Indira bring in the mugs! He didn't thank her (she doesn't drink hot chocolate, so surely that one's his, right?). In his old home that would've been a beating offence.

"The hot chocolate's yours."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"You're welcome. Jigsaw while we wait?"

Theo opens the box obediently and tips the pieces onto the table, sifting through them to make sure they're all the right way up. It's a big one, and it should draw his attention but it doesn't, his mind keeps wandering.

What's happening to Lea? Will she be alright? Will she be back? He can't stop himself from thinking about her. She's in trouble and he can't do anything to help.

_

"So I have your contact details here, from Lea's barcode. If you could just tell me your credit card number so we can charge you if you leave without paying, that would be great."

Anita nods and pulls it out of her pocket, rattling off the numbers. "How long until she comes back?"

"Should be very soon now, an ultrasound doesn't take long. Now, I know it's an unpleasant topic, but we need to discuss what you want to do if it turns out to be something serious."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, considering the cost and complexity of treatment for most serious ailments, many pet owners choose to have their pet put down. It's often–"

"No," says Anita firmly. "That's never going to happen."

"Are you sure? It's often kinder, given the pain, and if it's a burst appendix as I suspect, then–"

"You would kill Lea over appendicitis?" she asks, horrified. "That's easily treatable!"

"Peritonitis possibly, by this stage. And most owners... prefer not to. With the course of antibiotics needed it's a lot of work. It's company policy to offer it, I'm just doing my job."

"Just because it's your job doesn't mean you have to offer it. You're killing them when they could still have a fulfilling life. Don't ever bring the option up to me again, are we clear?"

"Of course, Miss Ranjit."

Just then the door opens, and a male orderly enters, leading Lea in by the leash. She looks like she can barely stand, tears in her eyes and hand held awkwardly, and Anita rushes forwards, snatching the leash and wrapping the woman's coat around her. Then she scoops her up, carrying her over to the bed.

"Lea, sweetheart, are you okay?"

Lea nods, settling against Anita's arm. Dr Archer clears her throat.

Anita looks up, trying to hide her anger. That's the last thing Lea needs to see, the last thing she should be showing if she doesn't want to be suspected as pet lib, but... they forced Lea to walk, even though she barely can, she's in tears from the pain, and she was definitely restrained in there, Anita can see the strap marks. But she can't think about that now or she'll explode.

"Yes?"

"The radiographer has sent the initial results in, and it's as I feared. Her appendix has burst."

"What's the treatment then?"

"She'll need an open appendectomy right away, which will take a couple of hours. The surgeon will remove the appendix and clean the abdominal area. I'm guessing, judging by her description of the pain earlier, that it was only a few hours, so I don't think we'll have too much infection to worry about, but I'll prescribe a course of antibiotics just in case. Make sure you give her the whole course if you don't want her infection to return."

"Will she be given anaesthetic?"

"Only spinal, so the surgery can be done safely. We don't stock general anesthetic here regularly, as owners rarely want to pay for it."

"Fine. Can I observe the operation?"

"We have an observation room, yes, for your peace of mind. It costs extra though."

"I will pay whatever's necessary for Lea to be taken care of."

"Well, if you agree to the procedure, I'll go and make sure there's an operating room ready."

Anita nods curtly and Dr Archer leaves the room. When they're alone, Anita turns to Lea.

"Did you understand what they're going to do?" Lea nods. "You'll be awake during the operation, but the spinal anaesthetic means you shouldn't feel any pain. Only a few hours and then we'll be able to leave. You're doing so well, sweetheart." She squeezes Lea's hand. "There is a question I want to ask you though, if you're up for it?"

Lea nods again, more apprehensively if that's possible. Anita takes a deep breath.

"Why didn't you tell me you were in pain? You must've been hurting for days. You're not in trouble, don't worry, I just... I'd like to know why you didn't say anything."

Lea swallows and speaks hoarsely. "I– I'm a pet, mistress. I can– I can take pain that people can't, and I didn't think– think there was anything that could– could be done. Pets can't– can't take most painkillers."

"Sweetheart, you can. I know you've been taught otherwise, but you can take them. If you're in pain in the future, I want you to tell me, okay? I don't want you to power through it when you're hurting."

"Yes, mistress. I'm– I'm sorry for thinking, I know it's– it's bad and I– I accept your punishment for it."

"There's nothing wrong with thinking, sweetheart. It's good to think. Just don't ignore what your body needs."

Lea frowns, but nods. "Yes, mistress."

Dr Archer pokes her head in the room. "They're ready to prep Lea now. If you both want to follow me."

Anita squeezes Lea's hand and picks her up bridal-style, following the vet out of the room and through the corridors. They stop just before reaching a set of doors leading to an operating theatre.

"I'll be here when you get out, sweetheart," Anita murmurs, releasing Lea reluctantly into the hands of another orderly, who takes her leash and leads her slowly inside, hand on her back.

"I'll show you to the observation room," says Dr Archer. Anita nods, wrenching her eyes away from the room Lea's disappeared into.

It's not far to the observation room, which is decorated like a hospital waiting room – a few informational posters regarding pet illnesses, treatment and payment plans, some old gossip magazines on a coffee table, and a couple of fabric chairs.

"One-way glass. This room's soundproof, and so's the theatre."

"Right." She watches as Lea's sat down on the bed. "What does the surgery prep involve?"

"They'll change her into a hospital gown and insert IVs for fluids. Usually we'd do a pregnancy test as well before deciding to do surgery, but since she's had a hysterectomy–"

"What do you mean, she's had a hysterectomy?!"

"It's in her medical records, and the ultrasound confirmed it. WRU performed it before her first contract. I assumed you were aware."

"I've never requested her medical records. It's her body. We did have an appointment next week with... someone else about her missed periods, although I guess that won't be necessary now."

"Mm. Well, I need you to sign these consent forms before we can go ahead."

Anita scans them. There doesn't seem to be anything dodgy in there, so she signs and hands back the clipboard. Then she spots the muzzle being put on Lea, and the tight restraints on her arms, legs, forehead and chest.

"Why all the restraints?"

"The radiologist reported that she misbehaved earlier. Better safe than sorry."

"Misbe– maybe her apparent 'misbehaviour' has something to do with being strapped down, with no explanation as to what's happening and no consideration of the fact that she's in tremendous pain and has sensitivity issues which you didn't even think to ask about!" She can hear her voice rising but she's past caring.

Dr Archer stiffens and her mouth thins. "Miss Ranjit. I understand you're upset and emotional over the condition of your pet, but we do have a dedicated complaints department and I would request that you email or telephone them instead of shouting at me about it. If you continue I will have to ask you to wait outside the building."

"Fine," snaps Anita. "Is there anything else?"

"Not for now. I'll send a prescription of antibiotics for you to pick up at the front desk, and once the surgery's finished you can leave with Lea as soon as you're ready."

"Painkillers?"

"We don't prescribe them here, sorry." She doesn't look remotely apologetic. "You can buy over-the-counter medicine at the front desk, if you really want something."

"Fine."

"Goodbye then."

"Yes. Goodbye."

Dr Archer leaves the room. Anita paces, practicing her breathing exercises. She hasn't had so much trouble with her anger for a while, but... god. The way people treat pets is abhorrent. Animals are often treated better. At least they get pain relief.

She swipes at her eyes. Fuck. She needs to call paati but it's too much. She needs to calm down first.

Once she's somewhat calm, she pulls her phone out of her pocket and dials home, switching to Tamil.

"Hello?"

"Paati? It's Anita."

"Anita! What's wrong? How's Lea?"

"I'm okay. Just a bit angry. She's... okay. She has a burst appendix but they're doing surgery now. There's more but it's not life threatening, don't worry, I just... I can't tell you it. Lea doesn't even know yet, I was told when she wasn't in the room. It's her medical details and they just... told me. Without her consent. And I know pets can't consent but it's just... I don't... yeah."

"Is that why you're upset? You sound upset, chotu."

"I mean, there's a lot of things, but... yeah. But also they... the vet gave me the option of putting Lea down. Said it would be cheaper and possibly better. She tried to persuade me to kill Lea over appendicitis, paati! And they don't prescribe painkillers either. I just... how? How can people know they treat other people like this and just accept it?"

"They don't always know," says paati tightly. "Which doesn't make it right, I know. And some of the people who do are cruel."

"Like Lea and Theo's previous owners. And their handlers."

"Mm. When will you be home, do you think?"

"Well the surgery's a couple of hours, and then I have to collect a prescription and talk to Lea about something so... sometime early morning? Tell Theo Lea's going to be okay." Anita really hopes that's true mentally as well as physically. "Oh, and can you do me a favour and clean out my wardrobe? Lea was sick in it."

"I will. Take care of yourself, and don't go punching someone."

"I won't, paati. It's been years since I did that. See you later."

"Goodbye."

Indira cuts off, and Anita pulls up her email, sending a message to the pet lib doctor who was going to see Lea next week cancelling the appointment and requesting appendectomy-level painkillers. Hopefully he'll reply soon.

Then there's nothing to distract her anymore. She watches Lea for a bit, but it feels wrong, this operation should be private, and Lea's open, terrified eyes are too much to watch without being able to go to her.

It occurs to Anita then that if Lea's appendix had burst at almost any other point after her arrival at WRU she would be dead now. From what she can gather from Theo their previous owners were the type to get their pet put down rather than pay for medical care, and there's no way WRU would've operated so thoroughly on a refurb boxie without even a prospective owner.

She sinks to the floor and buries her head in her arms. Oh, gods, Lea could've died. Anita would never have met her, Theo and her would never have reunited, her warm presence and the books scattered around the place as she determinedly learns to read would be gone. And yes, they've had problems, and they certainly would've had to buy less replacement mugs without her, but she wouldn't trade Lea for anything.

She knows for certain that Lea would be dead if she wasn't with her. And Doctor Archer offered to kill her, tried to persuade Anita to let her die, as if that wouldn't break them all entirely. As if it's not a gross violation of human rights (human rights, because despite what most of society says Lea is a person).

As if Lea hasn't already had her rights violated by the hysterectomy. God. And she doesn't even know about it. How barbaric do you have to be to want to perform that operation on someone without their consent? How can anyone do that? It's not like she doesn't know about the history of what seems like the whole damn world, but still...

How's she supposed to explain it to Lea and stay calm? How's she supposed to tell her that she can't have children? Sure, she can childmind and babysit, but even there there's stigma against Romantics. And as a pet she can't adopt.

If Lea ever wants to have children... well, maybe Anita can adopt on her behalf, when she's older, but having a Romantic in the house wouldn't make approval easy. She can only hope Lea doesn't want kids. Maybe that'll make the near-impossibility of having kids easier to stomach.

Or maybe not.

God. They cut Lea open and extracted bits of her without her even knowing. It's sick. And– and if Anita hadn't bought her, if this had happened while she was at WRU, or with her previous owners, she wouldn't even be here now.

Anita almost never knew her.

And as that sinks in, freezing her at the thought, she just cries. Great, heaving sobs that she can't seem to stop. It's all just too much.

_

Lea's not entirely sure what's happening. She has the explanation from the vet and Mistress Anita, but as soon as they started restraining her she retreated into her mind. She knows what people do when pets have restraints on, especially when there's so many. And the muzzle... a muzzle usually means they don't want to hear her scream.

She yelps when something hits her hand, a burning shock. She pulls it away quickly – wait, she can pull away? She can yelp?

"Come on, on your feet, you stupid mutt, I don't have all day."

Maybe she retreated too far, if she missed orders. She stands and waits as the man puts her harness on, yanking her arms around harshly to do so.

"Right. Come on. It's time to go back to your owner."

He leads her out of the room at a fast pace that she stumbles at, unable to keep up. He tuts impatiently but slows.

Then, just before turning into a what looks like a waiting area, with windows into the operating theatre, he puts a hand on her back and smiles, turning suddenly gentle. Why is he... oh. He opens the door and Mistress Anita's there, eyes red-rimmed.

Was she watching? Did she see Lea misbehave again? What'll she do to her for that? Surely she'll find out now. Will she return her? Please, no, anything but that.

"Here's your pet's clothes." The man hands Lea's clothes and boots to Mistress Anita, along with the end of her leash. "You can pick up your medicines at the front desk."

"That's it?" asks Mistress Anita, sounding stuffy. "You're not going to monitor her or anything?"

The man shrugs. "I'm sure you can take care of her fine, unless you'd prefer she stayed here for a few days."

Lea's eyes widen. No, no she can't do that! Please, don't make her do that.

"No. Thank you. I'll take her home. Any aftercare instructions?"

"They'll be in with her antibiotics, but no heavy lifting for at least two weeks. She can go back to her normal activities in three weeks, less if you're not too strenuous with her use. If you catch my drift."

"I'll be doubling that, then," spits Mistress Anita. "Thank you."

"Make sure you leave as promptly as possible. If you're here over 15 minutes we'll start charging."

"Of course. You might have to charge then."

The man nods and walks out. When they're alone Mistress Anita turns to her, helping her sit down. "Do you want help changing into your clothes, sweetheart?"

Lea shivers and nods. She's feeling very weak right now.

"Okay. Come on, let's get you into something warmer." She helps Lea out of the thin, itchy hospital gown and into her nightdress, coat, scarf and boots, averting her eyes from Lea's naked body when the time comes. Mistress Anita is gentle with her, patient, as she helps her manoeuvre her arms into her harness.

"Is that better sweetheart?" Lea nods, snuggling into the padded coat. "How do you feel?"

"Warm, mistress." And then, knowing now that Mistress Anita would prefer honesty, she adds, "It's– it's weird. I can't– can't feel anything below the– below the waist."

"That's the anaesthetic, it'll wear off soon. What happened to your hand?"

Anita gulps. "I– I misbehaved, mistress."

"No, I mean what did they do to you?"

"Sorry. It was– was an electric shock. It's okay, it– it didn't harm me. I'll be– be fine."

"It's not okay, they hurt you. That's not okay."

"Discipline is a– a necessary and humane event ensuring– ensuring the– the continued obedience and– and wellbeing of a pet," whispers Lea, and Mistress Anita pulls her into a careful hug, slow enough that she could get away if she wanted to. She won't though, this is her owner, and besides, it's... it's kind of nice.

"What they taught you... that doesn't make your treatment here okay." Lea sniffs. "Are you in pain at all?"

"My– my hand feels like I have– have pins and– and needles, mistress, but I can't– can't feel anything below– below my waist."

"Okay. We're getting painkillers on the way out anyway. There's, um, something I need to talk to you about. Something the vet mentioned while you were in the operating theatre."

Lea looks at Mistress Anita, who pulls away slightly but keeps Lea's hands gently in hers, stopping her from sliding off the chair and onto her knees. It's wrong. These chairs are for people, not pets, especially when she's done nothing to earn such comfort.

"When you were first with WRU, they performed a hysterectomy on you. Do you know what that is?" Lea shakes her head, wary of Mistress Anita's tone. "It's an operation to remove your uterus. It stops you having children. It also stops your periods which is why you haven't been getting them, so at least we can cancel that appointment, but... you won't be able to have kids, Lea. Not by giving birth, anyway."

Oh. Lea feels... numb. It's so sudden. She didn't even know they'd done that – maybe she doesn't need to know, though, she's only a stupid pet, it's not worth telling her, but Mistress Anita thinks she should know or she wouldn't tell her. Part of her strange emphasis on it being Lea's body, she supposes, an emphasis she still doesn't understand. Lea doesn't know what to feel. She's never really thought about having kids before but now she can't, now there's no option whatsoever of her having them, she's at a loss. It feels like she's lost something, something else she no longer has a choice in.

For a moment she feels intense hatred towards WRU, and she gasps, slamming a door shut on the feeling. No. No, that's not right, she doesn't hate them. They made her perfect for Mistress Anita, they trained her, she would be nothing without them. She couldn't even survive on her own.

She's grateful towards WRU, she doesn't hate them.

Tears prick at Lea's eyes and she lifts her arm to wipe at them before Mistress Anita sees. She's a good little Romantic, she doesn't cry unless her owner wants her to, if she's better off not being able to have children then that's fine.

Fine.

It's not her decision, it never has been, and it shouldn't be.

But she still can't help more tears pooling in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks.

"Lea, sweetheart, do you want a hug?"

Lea nods despite knowing what she should do, and Mistress Anita pulls her into her arms. She shouldn't cry but she does, sobbing into her owner's warm embrace.

"It's okay to cry, sweetheart, it's okay. You're allowed to be hurt and upset, if you need my permission." Lea buries her head in Mistress Anita's shoulder, shaking, and Mistress Anita rubs her back soothingly. "If you want to look after children, we can try childminding or babysitting. I know there's stigma against Romantics but we can find something. Although I'm not sure that's what you're upset about, and I know it's not the same. I'm so sorry sweetheart."

"I– I– I don't know why– why I'm upset, mistress," Lea sobs. "I'm– I'm sorry, I'm sorry– sorry, I'm sorry, I–"

"Shh. You have nothing to apologise for. It's okay that you don't know why. You just let it out, yeah? Just let it all out."

Lea nods. She can do that. It might not be useful but she can do it.

Eventually she manages to swallow her sobs and Mistress Anita wipes away her tears. "Shall we go home?"

"Please."

"Okay. Let me collect your prescription and pay, and then we'll go. Shall I carry you? You look a bit worn out."

Lea nods shakily and Mistress Anita lifts her into her arms. They walk out to reception, where Mistress Anita sets her down. Lea gets on her knees automatically.

"I've come to collect a prescription, and pay for Lea's treatment."

"What's your name, ma'am?"

"Anita Ranjit."

There's a sound of typing. "I'll just fetch the medicine for you, ma'am." Lea hears her footsteps moving away from the desk and then rustling. She jolts – the gait, the voice, that's another pet. Mistress Anita crouches down in front of her.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, mistress."

"Okay. Good. We'll be going home soon."

"Yes, mistress."

Anita places a gentle hand on her shoulder and straightens up. A few seconds later, the receptionist speaks again.

"Anything else, ma'am?"

"The strongest painkillers you have."

"Ibuprofen, ma'am." She pauses, and says hesitantly, "I, um, I was told to give you this number by– a visitor. If you seemed trustworthy and you want something stronger. Ma'am."

"Thanks. We can definitely get some from them?"

"Yes, ma'am. I did."

"Thank you. You're a good girl." And Lea knows she's talking to the receptionist, but her voice is so soft, she can pretend it's for her – Mistress Anita is soft with her, too, but this feels different somehow. Maybe she is greedy, like her handler said, wanting even more praise and gentleness that she doesn't deserve. "Here's my number, in case you ever need help."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"I'll take two boxes of ibuprofen while I'm here though."

"Yes, ma'am. Anything else?"

"No– wait, yes, actually. Do you have anything for burns? Particularly if it's not a cream."

Lea hears the pet scurry off, and return a minute later. "These plasters work well on electricity burns, ma'am."

"Thank you."

"Is that everything?"

"Yes. Yes, that's all."

There's a pause. "That will be £4265.66, ma'am. How will you be paying?"

"Card. Does anyone even carry that amount of cash around with them?"

"Yes, ma'am. But I was asking if you have a payment plan, begging your forgiveness for the correction."

"Oh. Right. No, I'll pay for it now. I can pay off the credit card later."

"Yes, ma'am." There's some beeping, and then the reception pet says, "Here's your receipt. Have a good day, ma'am."

"And you, I guess. As good as you can get anyway."

"Thank you, ma'am."

It's only on their way out, Lea in Mistress Anita's arms, that Lea notices the screens in the other pet's room, one showing the room she met Mistress Anita in earlier.

Lea drifts in Mistress Anita's arms for a bit. She's confused. She doesn't know what that number meant, but it sounded like a lot of money. What did Mistress Anita mean by "pay it back later"? That means other money, right? She won't have to pay by some... other means. She can't, that wouldn't be fair. Lea's a trained Romantic, a pet, and it's her fault Mistress Anita has paid all that money, she should do it.

She should pay Mistress Anita back anyway. Thank her.

Lea jumps as she feels herself moving. She's in a car, head on Mistress Anita's lap while Mistress Anita herself reads a piece of paper.

When did that happen?

Her mouth is dry and she gulps. "Mistress– Mistress Anita?"

Mistress Anita moves her paper away and looks at Lea. "You're back! What is it, sweetheart?"

"Thank– thank you for getting me medical– medical care, mistress. Please allow me to– to thank you properly and pay you– you back for– for helping me so well." She's weak but she bats her eyes invitingly. Come on, please, let her thank Mistress Anita.

But she just looks sad.

"No, Lea. You don't have to do that. I don't need payment for taking care of you. I've told you, it's your body, I'm not going to take advantage of it. I didn't want you in pain or dead, that's why I did it. You alive is payment enough."

"Then what– what use am I, if– if you won't ever use me?" Lea bursts out, inhibitions disappearing after the day she's had, before she claps a hand to her mouth. No, she didn't mean to speak, no no no, and she didn't even address Mistress Anita properly, and now Mistress Anita will probably use her painfully just to prove a point. She's Mistress Anita's property, she shouldn't be saying things like that.

"Hey. Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you. You know, when we were in the hospital, the vet asked if I wanted you put down. I objected. Vehemently. I think she hates me now. I'd miss you terribly if you weren't here, Lea. Theo and Indira would too of course, but... our flat just wouldn't be the same without you. It wouldn't be our home, not without your books and scarves and your habit of watching horror films from behind Theo. I'm not sure I could stand the place without your presence. Theo certainly couldn't. As a pet, your primary aim is to make us happy, right? Lea, your companionship is more than enough to do that. You don't have to be used for anything else to justify your place with us. Okay, sweetheart?"

Lea nods, squeezing her eyes shut as tears trickle down her cheeks. Mistress Anita chose her. She could've gotten rid of her, no-one would've blamed her, she's a bit of a useless pet, but she didn't. She chose to keep her, despite all the alternatives.

Mistress Anita wants her.

"Oh, sweetheart. It's okay. You're okay."

"Thank– thank you, mistress," she croaks.

Mistress Anita strokes her shoulder. "It's not a problem." She pauses. "Are you going to tell Theo about the sterilisation? The hysterectomy."

Lea thinks for a minute, then nods. Theo's so nice to her, and he'll worry otherwise. She doesn't want to hide things, doesn't want to hurt him again.

"Okay. I think that's good, Theo will appreciate it. Do you mind if Indira knows? I need to contact some people about medical things and I'll need her help."

_

"No, ma'am." And she finds that she really, truly doesn't.

By the time the key turns in the lock, Theo's ready. Him and Miss Indira have cleaned Mistress' wardrobe and found some clean clothes for Lea to change into (her favourite unicorn-patterned nightdress and fluffy dressing gown) along with her favourite stuffed toy spider, Hugo II. Dal is simmering in a pot on the hob if she's hungry, the tea's out, and– and now there's nothing else useful to do. Theo's left staring at the front room door, willing it to open, dreading the state Lea could be in – Miss Indira reported from Mistress that she was going to be okay, but he can't quite believe it. Not unless he actually sees her with his own eyes. No pet comes back from the vet unscathed. That's what his old master said.

When Miss Indira signs to him that Mistress and Lea are out there, calling, Theo stiffens, preparing for the worst. She could have any number of injuries that would make her okay in most owners' books.

Or... or she could be not too bad, leaning heavily on Mistress, eyes red-rimmed and drooping, looking upset and weak with an inflamed palm but not too bad. She smiles weakly at the site of Theo, and he wants to run to her but he holds himself back, vibrating, he hasn't been given permission.

Miss Indira draws his attention and jerks her head towards Mistress and Lea, and Theo stands, crossing the room towards her and pulling her into a gentle hug (the vet probably hurt her, he doesn't want to make things worse). She hugs him back, one hand stroking his hair, head resting on his shoulder. He feels his pyjama top dampen. She's upset but– but she's home, and that's what matters. He feels his heartrate start to calm for the first time since Lea left.

Eventually Lea pulls away and takes his hand, crossing to sit under the reading lamp, where her face is lit up well. She opens her mouth, then closes it, looking away.

Theo squeezes her hand.

"I'm– I'm okay, Theo, but... when– when we were training together, years– years ago, they did an operation to– to stop me having children. I can't– can't ever have– have children."

Theo growls and hugs her gently. How dare they take yet another thing from her? Was her memory not enough?

"We made dal, if you want some. And there's clean clothes too." It's all he can offer in terms of comfort, he has no idea what to say. Lea nods.

"Clean clothes– clothes first?"

Theo nods, and with a look at Miss Indira for permission he walks with Lea slowly into her room.

She brightens slightly when she sees Hugo II sitting next to the nightdress. Her other spider and bug plushies are in a nest up by her pillow, but Theo picked this one out for her.

"Thank you."

He smiles and helps her change, since she's still a bit too weak and wobbly to do it by herself. She seems better in clean clothes, and he takes her hand and squeezes it as they head out to the kitchen.

There's four steaming bowls of dal and mugs of tea on the table, where Mistress and Miss Indira are hovering.

Mistress smiles at them both. "Take a bowl each. You can eat where you like."

Lea steps forward and picks one up, settling on the floor to eat it, and Theo follows. He doesn't want her to feel alone.

_

Lea leans tiredly on Theo as she eats her dal. It's warm and filling and it smells of home, and it's just what she needs after the vet. As she takes a sip of tea she realises Theo's pyjama top is stained with tears but he doesn't seem to mind, nudging her shoulder companionably and eating his food with quick, nervous bites, keeping his eyes on their owners constantly as he does so.

Once they're all finished eating, Mistress Anita stands. "Lea, do you want to try putting a plaster on your hand now?"

Lea nods. "Yes, mistress." She stands and washes her hands carefully at the sink, before Mistress Anita hands her the packet of plasters. She sinks down to the floor again, struggling to open the packet. Theo looks like he's aching to help but she needs to do this alone. She has to do something for herself, prove that she's not entirely useless.

The plaster itself is cool and soothing against the itch of the burn. The outside feels weird but she can cope with that. It's not as bad as a fabric plaster.

"Does it feel okay, sweetheart?"

"Yes, mistress."

"That's good. You're a good girl, Lea, and very brave. And you look exhausted. Theo, too. It's been a long night. Do you want to get some sleep?"

She doesn't want to, she doesn't want the nightmares that are sure to come, but she needs to. Her eyes are barely staying open.

Suddenly she feels a jolt of pain in her stomach and doubles over, gasping. The usual pain in her head she gets around Theo has come back too. She whimpers.

"The anaesthetic must've worn off. Theo, pass me that box. Cheers. Lea, take these for me, sweetheart." Lea reaches out blindly and takes the proffered pills, swallowing them. "That's it. Easy, sweetheart, they'll take a few minutes to work. Hopefully we'll have something stronger for you soon."

Lea nods, waiting. The pain soon ebbs slightly, but it's still there. Is there something wrong again?

"There's nothing wrong, sweetheart. Surgery hurts, that's all. The vet just wouldn't prescribe any strong painkillers, like they would for people who aren't pets. You don't need to go in again."

Oh. Did she speak out loud?

"Come on. Let's get you to bed. Shall I carry you again?"

Lea nods and Mistress Anita picks her up, a small hand finding its way back into hers – Theo's, it must be. She squeezes it.

Mistress Anita lays her down on her bed, head on the squishy pillow, and she looks up to see Theo hovering uncertainly. She signs a sloppy "Stay," that luckily he understands, climbing in and curling against her side, closing his eyes.

Mistress Anita picks up a book. "Do you want me to distract you while you fall asleep?"

Lea nods, and she sits down, placing a hand on Lea's arm for a moment. Theo seems to be falling asleep already, breaths evening out.

"Okay. Once upon a time, there was a small village called Rembewa."

Lea knows this story and she likes it, but she just can't keep her eyes open, and soon, despite the pain and the gaping pit of worry inside her, she drifts off.

_

When Anita's sure that both Theo and Lea are asleep, she sets down the book and creeps out of the room, shutting the door behind her. Her paati's waiting in the living room and Anita joins her, sipping at the offered cup of tea.

"Thanks."

"How are they?"

"Sleeping. They'll be okay, it was just... traumatic. Especially for Lea."

"You don't look too good either," says Indira, concerned.

Anita shrugs helplessly. "It's a lot of responsibility and I didn't realise just how much. It's up to me whether they live or die. I could've had Lea killed today and the vet probably would've praised me for the decision. No-one should have that power over another person. And yet."

"Half of the things you've told me they did at the hospital were illegal."

"I know. Who's going to object, though? Who's going to risk being labelled a member of pet lib, make themself a target if their identity's discovered and not just from WRU?"

Indira looks at her thoughtfully over her tea. "You are."

"I'm– I'm not." Anita wipes her eyes, schooling her expression with difficulty. "What makes you think that?"

"You've lived with me since you were three, chotu. Don't you remember that fundraiser you did to help 'people pets' when you were ten?"

Anita chokes out something that's a strange cross between a laugh and a sob. "Of course I do. You pretended not to understand anything at all when people tried to complain, even though you definitely got the gist. You remember it?"

"Your tatta and I were very proud of you. And you have the same fire in your expression as you did then."

"Okay, I am planning to help more. I just– I can't just leave it, paati. It's horrible, the way Lea was treated, I can't just let it go on for her and others like her. It's not right. Do you, um, think Marjorie will be awake?"

"Marjorie can wait a few minutes, chotu, come here."

Anita crumples, then, folding herself into her paati's arms.

"It's so much. It's just all... so much. I– oh, god, I– it's–"

"Let it go. You held everything together for Lea, but she's asleep now, you can let go. Give yourself a break."

And Anita does just that. She falls apart. It's been a long, hard day, and she hasn't been able to process any of it. She curls up in her paati's arms, clutching one tightly, and cries, the tangled knot of emotions pouring out of her.

When she manages to stop and sits up, she's exhausted. She scrubs her face with one hand.

"I think... I'm going to call Marjorie now. And then check on the instructions for Lea's antibiotics, and look up the recovery for an appendectomy because I bet those instructions are seriously damaging. And maybe we'll have a reply from that doctor about painkillers soon too." She glanced out the window at the sun finally peeking up fully over the rooftops. "Will Marjorie be awake, do you think?"

"Yes, she gets up early, and she always takes pet lib related calls. Breathe. One thing at a time."

Anita nods. "One thing at a time. I know." She breathes deeply and picks up her phone.

Marjorie's number rings once, twice, three times before someone picks up.

"Hello?"

"Marjorie? It's Anita."

"Anita? Are you okay? It's very early."

"Yes, I'm fine. It's just, you said to give you a call if I ever wanted to become more involved with the pet lib movement. Well, this is the call. What can I do to help?"

#whump #whump writing #whumpee and whumper #whumpee and caretaker #whumper and caretaker #multiple whumpers #bbu #box boy universe #box babe #box boy #lady whump #sanctuary pigeonwhumps #785 oc #anita oc #theo oc #indira oc #pet whump #medical whump #dehumanisation #conditioned whumpee #multiple caretakers #lea does not actually remember the spider in eleanors house but she still calls all her stuffies hugo #angry caretaker #implied/referenced non con #theos dressing gown is massive bc it used to be anitas #whumpee thinks caretaker is their new whumper #whumpee thinks caretaker is their new master #disabled whumpee #when there were complaints indira would just pretend not to understand any english and walk off #even tho she did understand what they were trying to say she just wasnt going to pretend to agree or tell anita off

[pigeonwhumps]

Registration

Sanctuary masterlist

Whumptober masterlist

Alt 5: ambushed

Thanks to @haro-whumps for the list of box boy positions (and position 5 in particular)!

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages

Anita takes Theo to be re-registered as her pet at the WRU.

2.8k

CWs: BBU, pet whump, collar, dehumanisation, 'it' as a pronoun for dehumanising, muzzle, Theo's fucky headspace, non-con nudity (non-sexual), caning, conditioning

Anita plucks the coat off the hook in the hallway and turns to Theo, who’s kneeling, eyes on the floor, grey beanie pulled down past his ears. It’s slightly too large but she hopes it’ll stop anyone else recognising him. They can buy a new one that fits today.

She bends down in front of him until he can see her, then reaches out and drapes the coat over his shoulders. He takes the hint and shrugs his arms into it, his eyes still confused – he’s very clearly unused to being kept warm, and she hates that. Hates everything she’s been able to gather about Theo’s treatment by his former owners. She glances down at the WRU sign language booklet, reminding herself of the signs – some for pets, some for owners. There’s some she’ll certainly never use.

“Comfortable?” she signs, and he nods. Not that he’d tell her if he wasn’t. “Good boy.” She strokes a hand through his hair once, which he leans into, and then stands, shouting in Tamil. “Paati! I’m going out now!”

“Good luck! And don’t forget the shopping.”

“I have a list!” she replies indignantly.

“Well don’t lose the list then! I know what you’re like.”

Anita rolls her eyes and turns to Theo, signing, “Come.” Her paati’s always worrying, but they need to leave if they’re to make their appointment at the WRU.

Once outside Theo seems somewhat uncertain, clutching his teddy close, jumping as a car passes close to the kerb. She takes his hand, keeping him by her side instead of slipping behind her as he seems to be attempting to do. It’s only a short walk to the bus stop, and Anita spends most of it avoiding the curious gazes of her neighbours, feeling ashamed despite herself. Clearly they now think her the sort of person to own someone willingly. She wishes for a moment that Theo hadn’t been dropped off at her shelter.

Then she looks at the pet walking beside her, head down, shoulders hunched, and feels a pang of guilt. It’s not his fault.

When they reach the bus stop he kneels in front of her and she reluctantly pulls a leash out of her pocket, Theo bowing to allow her to attach it to his collar. She needs to buy him a more comfortable collar while they’re out today. Pets aren’t allowed out without a collar, so he really needs a more comfortable one than the plastic one he was delivered in. Besides, Theo won’t let Anita take his collar off, even at home.

Anita stands with Theo on the bus, keeping a hand on his arm to hold him steady. His eyes are focused on the floor so Anita can’t see his expression, but he’s trembling. Scared. Anita strokes his hair while the bus is stopped at a red light.

When they exit the bus in the town centre they make their way to the council building, Anita holding Theo’s leash loosely, both their hands covering it. Anita stops in the courtyard just outside.

“It’s okay,” she signs, unsure what other reassurance to give, and mouths slowly, “we’ll be quick.”

“Yes, mistress,” replies Theo quietly.

They enter the building together. The WRU offices are on the top floor, of course, and the lifts are both broken, of course. They make their way upstairs, Anita cursing her luck, pausing frequently so Theo can catch his breath. Finally they make it to the fifth floor.

There’s a receptionist at the desk and Anita and Theo walk up to her. She looks up from her computer as they stop in front of her, Theo immediately kneeling at Anita’s side.

“Welcome to the WRU, how can I help?” the woman asks in a bored voice.

“I’ve come to re-register my pet. I have an appointment at 11 o’clock?”

“What’s your name?”

“Anita Ranjit.”

The woman clicks on her computer a couple of times. “Ah yes. Do you have the paperwork with you?”

Anita swings her rucksack off her back and pulls out the thick stack of forms she’d been given by the shelter Theo had been supposed to go to. “Er, here. This should be everything.”

The woman on the desk flips through the paperwork, and Anita strokes Theo’s hair, trying to calm him. She still doesn’t understand why he needs to be here.

“This all seems to be in order. If you could just leave your pet here, someone will be along to collect it shortly.”

Anita starts, a well of panic opening up inside her. “What do you mean, he has to stay here? Why? How long for?”

“Just half an hour, madam. We need to run through some checks.”

“What for? What happens if I refuse?”

“It’s company policy. Either you consent to the check-up or you don’t see your pet again.”

Anita grits her teeth, looking helplessly at the pet kneeling beside her. “Fine. Just give me a minute to explain.” The woman nods curtly and she crouches down in front of Theo, who watches her closely.

“Stay here for half an hour,” she signs, saying clearly afterwards, “I’ll be back.” His eyes widen and he looks heartbroken. She hates this. He was only abandoned two weeks ago, and for her to leave him, now, in this place... she doesn’t know what he must think.

“It can’t take anything in,” says the receptionist suddenly, as if she’s just remembered.

“Right.” She enunciates clearly to Theo now, accompanying her words with gestures. “I need to take that for now.” Theo hands his bear over with slight reluctance, pleading with his eyes, and she signs an apology, swallowing back more reassurances because everything isn’t okay, he’s not safe, she doesn’t know what’s going to happen in there. All she can promise is that she’ll be back. Instead, she squeezes his hand and runs her other hand through his hair.

Footsteps approach and Anita looks up to see a stony-faced man in a WRU uniform. “We need to take it now.”

Anita pets Theo’s head one last time and stands. “You know he’s profoundly deaf, right? I don’t want him getting in trouble for not listening or anything.”

“Of course not, madam. We have its records.”

“Good.” She forces herself to hand over the leash and clenches her fists, digging her nails into her palm so she doesn’t snatch him back, run after them as they lead him away.

It’s only half an hour. Just half an hour.

“Shouldn’t have filed the paperwork at the WRU if you didn’t want a check-up,” the receptionist says, not entirely without sympathy.

“Wait. I didn’t have to do this?”

“No, dear. You think everyone who takes part in a private sale registers with us? We’d have queues around the block. You can update the details online.” She takes in Anita’s stricken expression. “Someone told you you had to?”

Anita nods. “The shelter. He was delivered to the wrong place, and when I contacted them they said I could have him for free, provided I registered him officially with the WRU within the next few weeks using the paperwork they provided. I didn’t realise that there’d be check-ups.”

“It’s mandatory for shelters. If they’re adopting out a pet they have to check their condition first, for insurance purposes. People sue. Inflict an injury themselves and then claim it was there already, that they were mis-sold. Used to be pretty common.”

“That’s sick.”

“Mm-hmm. I’ll print you out a leaflet about the WRU check-ups if you want to read it.”

“Thanks.” She hovers around the desk awkwardly as the woman clicks a few things, and the printer starts up behind her.

“That your first pet, then?”

“Yes.”

“We have lots of resources on our website, if you need anything. Here.” She hands over the leaflet and gestures towards a set of chairs in the corner. “Take a seat. You can always leave and come back for your pet later, but you don’t seem the type.”

“No. Thank you.” Anita sits down and starts reading the leaflet through carefully.

Most of it is the usual polished WRU spiel, but certain phrases jump out at her. Full physical and behavioural examination... owner details updated... free muzzle for those on our shelter partnership program.

Dear god.

What kind of a world does she live in, Anita wonders, where these things are just an accepted part of everyday life?

_

Theo follows the handler down the corridor, eyes down, hands behind his back. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen but Mistress said she’d be back. He has to believe that. He has to believe that he can continue being Theo, despite the uniform this man is wearing.

The handler leads him into a white-panelled room lit by bright lights with a computer in the corner and drops his leash. He signs for Theo to strip, and once Theo’s divested himself of everything but his collar, the handler attaches his leash to a hook on the wall.

“Position 1,” the handler signs, and Theo spreads his legs so his feet are directly below his hips, back straight, arms held out at 45° angles to his body. The handler nods in approval.

Theo stands perfectly still as the handler examines him, taking photos of his scars and tattoos with a small camera. He tenses when the man’s out of sight, each touch to his back almost making him jump. Then the handler gestures for him to open his mouth.

He has a chipped canine and another tooth missing, and the handler snaps on a pair of nylon gloves, forcing his mouth open wide enough to take photos. Theo doesn’t understand what they’re for, but then, he’s just a dumb pet, he doesn’t need to understand.

Once the examination’s complete, the handler commands Theo through his 25 taught poses, then through the rest of his signs and learned spoken phrases, testing his obedience. Then he signs for him to get into position five.

Theo gets onto his knees, face pressed to the floor, palms resting either side of his head. In this position he has no idea what’s going on, and although he doesn’t need to, it’s up to his owner and handlers what he knows, it still makes his heart pound faster, and he starts trembling, his body defying every attempt to stop it. He didn’t used to tremble, he knows, it started sometime with his previous owners. He hopes that doesn’t stop him going back to Mistress. She probably wants a perfect pet, and he’s picked up many habits over the years that mean he’s not.

Stupid pet. Thinking again. He shouldn’t think, he shouldn’t hope, he just needs to obey. It’s what he was made for. This is why nobody wants him.

A sudden pain hits his back, a sharpness fading quickly to a dull burn. It throbs when Theo’s pulled back to his feet, back straightening as he gets into position 1. It’s a cane stripe, he’s sure of it. It won’t scar, but it’ll hurt for a while.

As it should.

Theo stands perfectly still, watching the handler pick up a handheld scanner and pull his arm out towards him, holding the scanner over the barcode for a few seconds.

He watches as the handler types something into the computer. He’s not sure what, and he’s certainly not curious. Bad pet. What’s that phrase? Curiosity killed the pet. His old Master was fond of it. So he’s certainly not curious.

It’s cold in this room. Colder than he’s been for over a week, but not quite the bone-deep cold he used to feel sometimes, while being punished in his old Master and Mistress’ garage.

After a while, the handler comes back to Theo and unhooks his leash from the wall, signing for him to dress. He does so with relief. He’s being allowed to dress fully again. That means... maybe Mistress wants him back? She wouldn’t want to lose her clothes.

The handler is holding a black leather muzzle and Theo gulps. No. No no no. This is why he doesn’t speak, this is what it gets him, and he’d taken a liberty speaking around Mistress earlier, she clearly doesn’t like it. Bad, stupid pet, nobody likes him speaking and he knows that. He opens his mouth for the smooth, silicon bit, and the strap is fastened behind his head, leather strips just touching his cheek. The handler checks the fit, sliding two fingers under the strap at the back of his head, and even though it obviously isn’t too tight it feels it, claustrophobic and smelly and he’s struggling to breathe. He takes as deep breaths as he can, and isn’t fully aware of his surroundings as he feels a harsh tug on his leash, following it obediently. He realises vaguely that he’s being led back towards the reception area, and although his eyes are cast down he still recognises his Mistress’ boots, kneeling down beside her.

He can stay with her then. He feels a great sense of relief as she hands him back his teddy. He’s not being abandoned today.

_

Anita thought she was prepared to see Theo in a muzzle.

She was wrong. Oh, so very wrong.

After what feels like an eternity, Theo’s led back into the reception by his leash, a thick black muzzle obscuring the lower half of his face. He kneels down beside her and she presses his teddy into his hands, giving him a quick once-over. He doesn’t look physically injured, but he is trembling. It’s probably best to get him out of here first and then take the muzzle off.

She swallows a sob and nods in thanks as the man hands her the paperwork. Oh, god, he looks trapped behind that. Trapped and scared and, as she bends down in front of him and sees his eyes, so damn hopeful, if a little glazed. How he can be hopeful she really doesn’t know, but it makes her feel incredibly guilty.

She signs for him to follow her and holds his leash loosely between their joined hands as he stands, walking with her out of the WRU office and down the stairs. Once they’re outside she leads him around the side of the building to a patch of grass by the river. It’s too small to be called a park, really, but it’ll do, and she sits down, gesturing for Theo to join her. He kneels down in front of her.

“I’m going to take your muzzle off now, sweetheart, is that okay?”

Theo takes a minute to process her words, but then he nods, and she reaches forward, unclasping the thick leather straps behind his head. The muzzle falls off into her hand, and she drops it quickly, noting the thick, spit-covered silicon bit with disgust.

He barely speaks as it is, and he certainly doesn’t bite. Even if you were cruel enough to want to put a pet in a muzzle, why use a bit? It’s just senseless cruelty.

Theo’s eyes are filled with tears as they gradually become more aware. Anita feels a tickle on her own cheek and brushes it, her finger coming away wet. It’s just– it’s so unfair. Theo’s a person, and to treat him the way the WRU do is abhorrent.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry,” she says, signing the apology haltingly too so Theo definitely understands it, as he trembles on his knees in front of her. “I didn’t realise they’d do that.” Theo twitches slightly towards her. “Hug?”

Theo nods, and she wraps her arms around him, careful that he can still see her if he looks up, keeping her hands on his back, where he can feel them. She feels her hoodie dampen as he leans against her chest.

She’s prepared to sit there for as long as he needs. Paati won’t mind if they’re a little later home with the shopping than planned.

How’s she supposed to take Theo to the Pet shop to buy a new collar after this, though? Will he be able to stand it?

Or will he think she’s going to muzzle him again? She has no idea what’s available to buy there, but it can’t be good, and Theo would think the worst even if he wasn’t so shaken.

She’ll sit here as long as he needs, though. As long as it takes for him to calm down. It’s all she can do, now. Maybe if she’d known about the check-up earlier, she could’ve found an alternative, or at least prepared him. Maybe if she was smarter about this, if she’d actually researched pet ownership properly after she got Theo...

Maybe, maybe, maybe. She shakes her head. Theo has no use for maybes now.

#whump #whump writing #sanctuary pigeonwhumps #anita oc #theo oc #bbu #box boy universe #box boy #pet whump #whumpee and caretaker #whumpee and whumper #dehumanisation #non con nudity #deaf whumpee #whumptober2022

[pigeonwhumps]

Safety

BBU Community Days: Day 13

@bbu-on-the-side

Finding Safety masterlist

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages @flowersarefreetherapy @painful-pooch

Cass, Calixte, and their children reunite in Canada five years after Cass' initial kidnapping (with Aaliyah, Lea, Anita, and Sandy's help).

CWs: BBU, pet whump, box boy, box babe, past pet whump, mentions of collars and freedom/captivity, mentions of torture, recovery whump, reunion, past grief (kind of)

2.5k

Cass looks impatiently out the window as they pull into the airport's parking lot. As soon as Sandy's parked he opens the door, striding round to the boot and waiting there.

He doesn't remember the airport's name and today is apparently not a reading day so he can't read the signs, but that doesn't matter, because Calixte's going to be here soon, and Petre and Mathéo and Isabella, and Cass Jr who he hasn't even met yet, and he doesn't think he can wait much longer.

Sandy chuckles lightly as xie come over and unlock the boot. "Their plane isn't even here yet, you and Aaliyah tracked it the whole way. Go on inside and see if you can find international arrivals. I'll pay for parking and meet you there."

Cass nods, taking the wheelchair from Sandy as she sorts something out inside the car. At one time he would've worried that it was something awful she was fetching, and sometime before that it would've been some creative torture from Tyrone or a handler, but now he just feels a faint sense of curiosity. And excitement, of course, about seeing his family again.

He doesn't feel the need to beg for Aaliyah's safety now, like he did for so long.

Aaliyah taps the seat of the chair, and Cass sits down reluctantly. This chair isn't very comfortable, but it was the best fit of the donated ones, and his leg's locked up on the car ride. If he tries to walk now he won't be able to meet Calixte without being in horrendous pain.

They enter the airport together. God, it's so big. The last time he was at an airport... no. No, he's not going to think about that. He didn't see anything anyway, so he doesn't need to think about it, it's not relevant. But it still hurts, phantom shocks, phantom rope burns and restraints, metal biting into his face. Jostled and thrown as his box was boarded. He doesn't know what it looked like, but it felt like a coffin.

Does WRU ship internationally, anyway? He's never found out. God, what's he going to do if he sees someone in a box?

"Breathe, Cass," says Aaliyah, the voice sporting an electronic tinge. "Breathe."

Cass takes a deep breath, then another, then looks up at her.

"You're the best," he murmurs, taking her hand gently. She smiles, touching his cheek.

People are staring now, and Cass fingers the thick band of scarring around his neck nervously. Do they know? Can they see, what he and Aaliyah are? It's Canada, it's illegal, but WRU have agents everywhere and they've never cared about legality. His life is proof of that.

They're too close to the border, far too close. Hell, they could be on the moon and it would still be too close. He squeezes Aaliyah's hand tightly.

"People are staring."

Aaliyah's rabbit-quick eyes dart around, and she looks frightened before her mouth sets in a determined line, tapping out a message on her AAC tablet.

"Let's find Arrivals. Can you read?"

"Not today. But I think there is a symbol of a plane landing."

Aaliyah nods. Cass pushes himself along as they search, eventually finding the board. He'd like to go faster but then he'd bump into someone and maybe lose Aaliyah.

It's not far to Arrivals, and now they just have to wait. Cass just has to wait. He stares impatiently at the doors Calixte and his children will come through, drumming his fingers on the arms of his wheelchair, willing time to go faster.

Sandy arrives shortly after, carrying three drinks. "You found the right arrivals space, that's good. Here, Aaliyah, yours is as sweet as they could make it. Got you an iced coffee Cass. Decaf. Nothing hot, I've seen reunions before and you'll drop it as soon as you see your family."

"Thank you. Has the plane landed yet?"

"Yep, just now. But they've still got to go through immigration, you'll have to be patient."

Cass growls slightly. He's had years of being patient, hasn't he been patient enough?

"Not long," says Aaliyah, and Cass smiles weakly, nods. She still gets too scared to speak much with her natural voice, but he prefers this one. This one isn't associated with screams and sobs and begging at Tyrone's behest. It's just her.

He doesn't look round though. He continues to stare at the door, willing his family to walk through.

_

"Do– do any of you need– need the toilet before we– before we go?"

Lea's been left to wrangle the four younger Văduvas while Miss Calixte and Mistress Anita repack the documents. Mathéo and Petre are the easiest, because although they're just as impatient as the rest after four hours in immigration and customs they're older, more understanding of the situation. It probably comes from helping to raise their younger siblings, but at least they're a little more sensible.

Isabella and Cassander Jr, however... she really hopes her hair wrap is enough to catch the ice lolly drip from Cass.

There's a murmur of denials from everyone. Lea looks at Izzy, legs swinging where they dangle from the luggage, licking an ice lolly. She's ten but she looks younger right now, hair mussed from the long flight.

"Izzy. Are you– are you absolutely sure you won't– you won't want to go as soon as we– we get through those doors? We have– we have time now."

She pauses, head cocked as she looks up at Lea. Then she nods and jumps down.

Mathéo, with the long-suffering look of someone who knew exactly what she was about to do, catches her and lowers her before she can smack her head on the cream and grey vinyl.

"Careful, Iz, don't want to go to hospital before you've even seen dad again."

She nods and waits for Lea before heading over to the nearest toilets.

"I'll– I'll wait out here– out here for you."

"Okay." She hands Lea her ice lolly. "Don't let it melt."

Well. What's Lea supposed to do with a melting ice lolly? Years ago she'd have eaten it quickly, unsure when her next meal would be. Or she'd have panicked because she couldn't follow that order.

She's glad those days have passed. Mostly. They're not here today, anyway.

"Lea! I wanna go too!"

Lea groans quietly. Of course Cass does. He always wants to do what his sister does. Really, she should've anticipated this.

How's she supposed to deal with it?

Mathéo, seemingly having seen her dilemma, wanders over. "Need any help?"

She nods. "I– I– Cass needs the– the toilet too."

"Of course. I'll take him. Bend down."

She does so, and he lifts Cass Jr off her shoulders, handing her his ice lolly with a wink. "Eat them if you like. Once we get through those doors they'll only care for as long as it takes them to spot dad."

Lea licks at Cass' ice lolly gratefully. It's not like he's eaten much at all, most of it's melting slowly on her hair wrap. She knows she doesn't need to be grateful anymore, but she is. For all of this.

It feels weird, not having to wear anything marking her as a pet. She hasn't worn a collar in years, but this is really the first time out in public that she hasn't had to wear a harness and leash. Mistress Anita helped her take it off as soon as they boarded the flight at Heathrow and she hasn't seen it once since.

It makes her nervous. She barely remembers not having to wear something, and it feels like someone's going to tell her off, discipline her, take her away. Really, the officials could do anything to her, legally, since Mistress Anita isn't following the rules.

But then she looks around. Remembers where she is. The younger Văduvas who insist on her not giving them titles, and Miss Calixte who lets her because she can't help herself. Who treat her like a person, however weird and wrong that is. Even though, in this country, she might be.

She's still owned by Mistress Anita, but she doesn't mind that, she likes her, and she's never felt more free.

They've only just arrived, but she can can already feel that it will be a challenge going back home.

There's another thing nagging at her. She remembers the transport now, the whole, horrifying ordeal to be refurbished. It makes her go cold every time she thinks of it, but more importantly, there was a man named Cass there, who insisted he'd been kidnapped. She'd struggled to believe him then.

She definitely does now.

Is he the same Cass as the man here? Or would that be too much of a coincidence?

The two younger children exit the toilets, and Izzy climbs back on the luggage, Mathéo lifting Cass Jr onto her shoulders. Mistress Anita and Miss Calixte look ready too.

Well. It seems she's about to find out.

_

It's been four hours, by Sandy's reckoning, when the door opens. Most of the passengers have left, so many planes have been and gone, and his wife and children still aren't here yet.

"What if they are not coming?" he mutters, accent thick with worry. "What if they were arrested or decided not to bother, that I was not worth it?"

"It takes a long time to get through customs, Cass, I'm sure they're just..."

Cass stops hearing anything Sandy says, a faint buzzing filling his ears. A woman comes through, one he vaguely recognises (not Calixte, not dangerous even though his gut fills with dread, but... something), pushing a trolley piled high with luggage. A boy's bouncing on her shoulders, and a young girl in a panda hat is perched on the luggage. She's several years older than when he last saw her in person but he knows her.

"Isabella," he breathes.

She can't have heard him, she's too far away, but her eyes light up as they land on him.

"Tata!" she cries, leaping off the trolley. A young man charges through the door, grabbing his sister before she can fall and running towards them. He can't get up to meet them, his leg still locked, but that doesn't seem to matter as Izzy leaps onto his lap, throwing her arms around his neck. Mattie's next, trying to be grown up about it Cass can tell, but failing. He eventually gives up, hugging Cass close, tears in his eyes.

"You've grown," murmurs Cass into his ear. Mattie chokes out a wet laugh.

"I missed you, tata."

"I missed you too. Izzy, Mattie, both of you, so much."

"I was worried you might forget me."

"Only for about a day, near the start. I forgot everyone. Then I remembered. I've thought about you every night since."

Mathéo buries his head in Cass' chest, sobbing. Izzy's warm, sweet breath comes in his ear, and she whispers, "I love you tata."

"Love you too scuttlebug."

Cass can feel tears dripping down his cheeks. He looks up through watery eyes as a shadow falls over Mathéo.

His other son has clearly gone through most of puberty since Cass last saw him, and he's taller than he looked on-screen.

"Petriça," he murmurs. Petre smiles slightly. He's always felt so strongly, always noticed things, and Cass suspects he's taking note of what's changed.

"Hi dad."

"You have got tall. Come here, there is plenty of space by Izzy."

"Are you sure?"

"I always have space for you, Petriça."

Petre sniffles. "I didn't do as well as you hoped, dad, my grades aren't very good and I stopped basketball and–"

"I have not seen you for five years, your grades are not what I care about. You are here and I can talk to you and that is what matters."

"I missed you. You weren't there and I was so angry and– and– you were *gone*."

"I am here now. And I am not leaving again."

Cass leans down, gathering his children all together, feeling as much of them as possible as he hugs them. His knee's starting to hurt but he doesn't care. He has his children back.

"I wanna hug too!" comes a muffled cry. None of his children move.

"He– he likes to copy– copy his sister. Would you– you like to meet him first?"

There's a pause, and then Aaliyah says, "Hello little Cass."

Cass feels a small pang of jealousy at this stranger knowing his child better than him. But Aaliyah can get to know him first, she's joining the family after all, and Cass has his other children to take care of. After five years of hell, they're here.

_

Calixte watches as Aaliyah lifts Cass Jr from Lea's shoulders, smiling. She's shorter than Calixte thought from the video call, and somehow even more attractive. She can see why Cass fell in love.

That's a conversation for another time though. Her children are reuniting with their dad, and she's not sure she can wait much longer. Once you have children you have to put them first (not that she had much choice in the matter this time) but no-one ever told her it would be so hard.

Finally she can't wait any longer. She walks forward, getting faster with every stride until she's practically running, and Petre looks round, nudging Mathéo who stands, backing out the way, clutching Izzy's hand. They're all covered in tears and mess, but Calixte ignores that, almost crashing into her husband. He wraps his arms around her, kissing her hard. They kiss for a second, an hour, nowhere near long enough, before he has to pull away to breathe. She cups his face in her hands.

"Mon chéri. Let me look at you. Oh, I've missed your handsome face."

Cass closes his eyes, leaning into her hands. "You even smell the same," he rumbles. His voice is rougher than she remembers, hoarser too. Video calls are only so good. She doesn't want to imagine what he's been through to get here.

"So do you. Oh, Cass."

"I am sorry I left you. I do not look like you remember."

In response Calixte kisses him, all over his face, and then on the mouth. And they just keep kissing.

"I am sorry," murmurs Cass between kisses, "I am so sorry."

Calixte pulls away slightly, folding her hands over Cass'. In no way is she letting him apologise for anything. Certainly not after the torture he's been through. He's here and they're together again and that's what's important, not his self-blame getting even worse.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." She pauses. "Well, except for that time you assumed we'd be better off thinking you were dead, Cassander Anton Văduva. Never do anything like that to us again."

"Never again. Never again, I promise."

#whump #whump writing #bbu #box boy universe #box boy #box babe #box boy whump #pet whump #disabled whumpee #recovery whump #multiple whumpees #whumpee and caretaker #whumpee x caretaker #sanctuary pigeonwhumps #cass oc #calixte oc #petre oc #matheo oc #isabella oc #cass jr oc #anita oc #785 oc #sandy oc #aaliyah oc #ok so i was *going* to wait until i wrote further into the future to write this #but then the prompt and the length of my original planned fill conspired to make this happen #the family has my heart #theyve had a hard time of it #everyone here needs a hug #reunion

[pigeonwhumps]

Hairdresser

Sanctuary masterlist

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages @flowersarefreetherapy @for-the-love-of-angst

Lea and Theo go to the hairdresser.

1.7k

So, I promised Vee a comfort drabble. This is certainly not a drabble although it does make me smile. Set fairly soon after Anita gets Lea, before her trip to the vet.

CWs: BBU, pet whump, fear of punishment, past restraints, blink and you'll miss it implied non-con, conditioning, sensory issues

Theo's almost bouncing by the time they reach the groomer's – no, the hairdresser's, Mistress Anita said. He's clearly trying not to show it but Lea can see. Why? What's so exciting about someone who's going to restrain them until they can't move at all and forcefully cut their hair, tugging painfully. Why– why does Theo want that? It's scary and the gowns are itchy and it's too much.

Mistress Anita holds the door open for Theo to enter and pauses, looking at Lea.

"We need to go in, but you don't have to have your hair cut if you don't want to, sweetheart. You can just wait with me if you like. It's up to you."

They enter the hairdresser's and Lea kneels at Anita's feet, watching as Theo, having already been helped out of his harness and coat, climbs up into a posh, comfortable-looking leather seat and rests his head back in the bowl of water. A smiling man in a black shirt rolls up his sleeves and starts washing Theo's hair.

There's no restraints, Theo doesn't look like he's in pain, any malice or disgust the groomer has is very well hidden. Lea doesn't understand.

"Hello." Lea jumps about a foot in the air and turns her head to face the woman who's just spoken, bowing slightly. "Oh, sorry for startling you. You don't need to bow. I'm Marie."

Lea looks up cautiously. The woman in front of her is dark skinned and muscular, with tattoos covering both arms. One arm's held out towards her, and Lea can see scars on it, some more covered by tattoos than others.

Lea flinches.

"I'm not going to hurt you. Just shake my hand, if you can?"

Mistress Anita nods, and Lea takes Miss Marie's hand tentatively, curling her fingers around the older woman's.

"What's your name?"

"Lea, ma'am."

"Nice to meet you Lea. You can just call me Marie, or Miss Marie if that's more comfortable for you." Lea frowns at Miss Marie. That's an odd way to address someone. Mistress Anita said that, too. It's impolite to address a person without a title. She catches sight of a set of numbers and lines on Miss Marie's wrist, partially hidden by trailing vines and flowers.

Miss Marie catches her looking.

"I was a pet, once, like you. A lifetime ago. Now I help pets and ex-pets increase your confidence by letting you choose something for yourself. I promise I won't hurt you, but if you want proof that's okay. Keep watching Theo, and when you're ready, take off your coat, harness and scarf and come over to the hairwashing station."

Marie walks off. Lea looks up at Mistress Anita, completely confused.

Well, when in doubt.

She nudges against Mistress Anita's leg, batting her eyelashes up at her. She has to pay somehow. This is her job.

"Hey, sweetheart, no. You don't have to do that. This is a gift. I want you to feel more confident, and like how you look. And I have no idea how to style your hair. Please, don't try and pay."

Lea swallows the lump in her throat and nods. Mistress Anita never wants to do anything with her. Does she actually want her at all?

She's going to stop thinking about it. She's going to stop thinking about it and get her hair done, and she'll be so so good and Mistress Anita will definitely want her and keep her.

Lea gets to her feet nervously and makes her way over to the comfortable chair, leaning her head back. Her neck feels naked without a collar or scarf, it's weird. There's a mirror on the ceiling so she can see herself, and this chair she's in is a people chair. Why's she being allowed in a people chair?

"Blimey, I see what Anita meant about your hair being damaged. It's okay, we'll get it sorted, you don't need to worry. When was the last time anyone cared for your hair properly? Before Anita, I mean."

"There– there was a groomer before my– my photoshoot," Lea replies quietly.

"Of all the pets I've had in here, I haven't had many end up with healthy hair from a WRU stylist. Good-looking for the photos, but never healthy. Never mind. We'll do our best to get your hair better now, and I'll give you some things to take away with you that might help. Okay?"

"Yes, Miss Marie." It all makes sense now. Mistress Anita wants her pretty. That's good, that's a good reason. She can breathe now she knows why this is happening.

"Right. Sit back and relax, and I'll tell you when you need to move to style your hair."

Lea obeys, letting her shoulders go lax just like Mistress Anita said might help. It doesn't at first, and then Miss Marie's hands start massaging her scalp and it feels so soft, so nice, the scent of the warm water is so relaxing, it sends her into a kind of trance.

She's not sure how long it is before she feels a hand on her shoulder and jumps.

"It's okay. We need to move over there now, that's all. Come on."

Lea follows Miss Marie over to stand behind a chair in front of a mirror, colour-coded shampoos and conditioners and all manner of hair lotions laid out on the side, along with combs and scissors and anything she could think of for hair. Theo's sitting on a chair beside hers, a gown over his clothes, and although he makes her head hurt she's a bit too dazed to notice properly.

"I have a gown for you, although Anita says you have sensory issues, so let me know if it's too much and I'll find something else."

Lea nods and Miss Marie helps her into the gown. It only touches her skin on her neck and wrists but it's still too much, it itches and there's something about it that's almost painful, she doesn't know why. But she's not going to tell Miss Marie, she doesn't know what'll happen if she does. She can survive it.

Miss Marie looks at her and shakes her head. "That's not okay, is it? Let's just try a towel around your shoulders." Lea takes off the gown and Miss Marie replaces it with a soft towel. That's much better. But– how did she know? Lea's good at this, she knows how to pretend, how did Miss Marie guess? Will she–

"You're still good at it, don't worry. Nobody except another pet would've noticed that, yeah?" Lea nods. "Okay. I'm going to comb your hair while you look through these hairstyles. Pick at least one you like, okay?"

Marie hands Lea a ring-binder and she freezes. There's too many pages in here. How can she make a decision? She's a pet, she's not allowed to make decisions.

"If it helps, Anita approves of all of them." It doesn't help. Well – it lifts the biggest worry that Mistress Anita might disapprove and punish her, although she still could of course, but it doesn't help her make a decision. Marie tugs lightly on her hair as she combs. "Choose a number between one and twenty."

Lea tries to calm her racing heart. "Fifteen, Miss Marie."

"Great. I think Anita said you can read a little, so turn to page fifteen and pick a hairstyle from there."

Lea turns to page fifteen obediently. There's only six pictures here, that's much easier. She considers the options before holding her finger above a photo of a woman with braids, some dyed red and purple.

Marie looks over her shoulder and smiles approvingly. "Very nice. It might take some time to do, so why don't you sit back and just watch. I'll tell you if you need to move your head."

"Yes, Miss Marie."

Beside her, Theo reaches out a hand. Lea takes it, squeezing tight.

"I see my boyfriend's finished Theo's hair. I'm glad you managed to reunite."

Lea's brain stutters to a halt near the start of the first sentence. She knew she and Theo were once bonded, that's not new information, but... Miss Marie has a boyfriend?

"What is it, Lea?"

"You– you have a boyfriend?"

Miss Marie's smile widens. "I do. Love of my life. He used to be a pet too."

"But you– you're a pet. How– how can you have a– a boyfriend?" Lea asks, puzzled. Pets aren't made for relationships with anyone who's not their owners, everyone knows that. They're not capable of it, not like people are.

"Not everything WRU says is true."

"But– but– it is!" protests Lea. She knows it is. That's what she was taught. "They're always– always right, unless Mistress– Mistress Anita or Mistress Indira command– command me otherwise."

Miss Marie looks sad, for some reason. "I used to believe that. Just, if you remember anything from today, Lea, remember that you have a life, despite what WRU has moulded you into. Live it."

Lea nods. She's not sure what to think about that (surely her life only has meaning in relation to her owners?) but it clearly means a lot to Miss Marie. Even so, she pushes it to the back of her mind, not ready to think on it yet.

She sits there as Miss Marie does her hair, half listening to the woman (pet? Lea's not sure how to refer to her) chatter on about her life. Beside her, Theo's having an animated conversation with Miss Marie's boyfriend, the hairdresser signing as Theo alternates between speech and occasional one-handed signs. Lea tries to let go so he can talk properly but he doesn't let her, and she's reluctantly grateful.

Once Lea's hair's finished, Miss Marie takes the towel and Lea stands, approaching Mistress Anita nervously. Mistress Anita grins broadly when she sees her, eyes soft.

"Oh that's much better. You look incredible, sweetheart. Well done on making the decision. Do you feel any better?"

Lea nods. "Yes, mistress."

And to her surprise, she really does. Her head feels lighter, cleaner, she likes the way her hair looks. Not like it did with her handler, there's nothing to remind her of that time now. Mistress Anita likes it. She can feel a kernel of something inside her, something she hasn't felt in... she can't even remember how long.

Something that's maybe a little bit like hope.

#whump #whump writing #bbu #box boy universe #box babe #pet whump #recovery whump #conditioned whumpee #recovering whumpee #lady whump #whumpee and caretaker #sanctuary pigeonwhumps #785 oc #anita oc #theo oc #incidentally although theyll probably appear once more at the most #i have decided that marie was a guard dog and her boyfriend a romantic #and they met in a safehouse and decided to run a hairdressers for pets/ex-pets to feel safe in together #they were supported with funding to start up but they have fake id documents so the business is all theirs legally #its a 'pay what you can afford' type thing #so homeless ex-pets can look nice and feel confident and get pep talks for free #and people like anita can pay what they want and not need to worry if they cant afford it #(bc day to day anita and indira dont have much money #theyre rapidly getting through anitas inheritance and living off 1 income and a pension) #anyway i hope people read the tags bc i just rambled about that hair salon so much lol #and i have more Thoughts™️ on it too #theo: this person will communicate with me. i will attach myself to them now #hes a sweetheart #taking lea to the salon was his idea #whumpee thinks caretaker is their new master

[pigeonwhumps]

🎶 for Lea and Theo?

Theo's colouring in Lea's room when she taps him on the knee.

He looks up to see her watching him hopefully. She points towards the CD player and signs, "Dance?" It's a request, and Theo nods eagerly. It's been well over a year since he last danced with her, danced with anyone really, and he's missed it.

Her face lights up as he climbs to his feet and holds out his hand. She takes it gently, her other hand touching his waist.

Lea leads, of course. She always has. She can hear the music, and she knows the steps better than him. He rests his free hand on her shoulder.

He thinks he makes some sort of noise as they start to move. Because he knows this dance, and it's not one she would've been taught. It's one they made up, the two of them, in secret, tired and scared and hurting, left alone for the night after their dance lessons at the facility. He steps with her, heart full to bursting.

Because this means she remembers. Well, she doesn't remember, not really, she doesn't remember him, but her body remembers their dance. That's more than he thought they'd get.

He rests his head on her shoulder, like he used to, and she does the same, stepping closer to tangle themselves together. She's soft and warm and oh, he's missed her. It settles something in him to have her here again. He closes his eyes, trusting in her, just stepping, stepping, stepping.

#answered ask #sanctuary pigeonwhumps #theo oc #785 oc #bbu #box boy universe #box boy #box babe #recovery whump #recovering whumpee #anita: why cant we watch them? they must be so cute! #indira pulling her away from the crack at the bottom of the door: theyll stop if we do #and apologise let them at it alone #also marz i hope you know im certainly going to get weird looks for smiling like this on a 7am bus #theyre my cute bbies and this makes me happy to write theyre so cute but i will definitely get weird looks #realising im struggling to write dancing without it seeming romantic #its not meant to goddammit #does it? idk #oh well #adam and eleanor ordered dance training so they could show their pets off #'look at this trick my pets can do! theyre so much better than your pets' kind of thing #like a parent or dog/cat owner but creepier #thanks for the ask!

[pigeonwhumps]

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.

#whump #whump writing #bbu #box boy universe #box babe #multiple whumpees #non con #rape cw #past rape/non con #whumpee and whumper #pet whump #dehumanisation #conditioning #conditioned whumpee #mentioned kidnapping #restrained #sanctuary pigeonwhumps #785 oc #Cass oc #oops I created a new character #three guesses which tv I very recently finished watching to name him that #and the first two don't count #also maybe I should make it clear that 785 worked in a shop #not for WRU #I'm not sure it's clear as it is

[pigeonwhumps]

Diwali cooking

Sanctuary masterlist

AMOW day 6: baking

So, I've decided I'm posting these in order of completion, not prompts, bc day 3 is definitely not complete (neither one) and I've used multiple prompts from some days anyway. And this is more cooking (and storytelling) than baking, but oh well. Enjoy!

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages @flowersarefreetherapy @amonthofwhump @poc-whump

Anita helps Lea make galub jamun, and tells her the story of Rama and Sita.

Set on the first day of Diwali, a while after Lea comes to live with Anita, Indira and Theo.

1.1k

CWs: BBU, pet whump, recovery, conditioning, implied past non-con, kidnapping, memory loss

"Lea, do you know the story of Rama and Sita?" asks Mistress Anita suddenly.

Lea glances back at Theo, who's sitting on the countertop, a smudge of coloured sand on his nose from the rangoli, talking to Mistress Indira in sign language as they make the bean curry together. He looks nervous, but he's smiling. She can't explain why the expression looks strange on him, only that it does, and it's starting to make her head hurt, watching him.

That's why they're making gulab jamun dough outside on the balcony, though. So Lea can ignore Theo if it gets too much.

"No, mistress."

"Sorry, I should've told you earlier. I forgot you didn't know. It's the origin story of Diwali, for us. Pour a little bit of milk into the bowl and mix it together with your hands." Lea pours the milk in and sticks her hands in the bowl carefully. It still doesn't feel right, getting so messy, but she does it anyway. Mistress Anita likes her doing things like this. "That's good. Add more milk if you need to, and keep kneading until it's a smooth ball. So. The story of Rama and Sita. Rama was a warrior prince, married to Sita. A demon king called Ravana, with ten heads and twenty arms, wanted to marry Sita himself, so he disguised himself as a wounded deer and appeared in the forest in front of her. Sita was worried about the animal, but it disappeared into the forest before she could ask Rama to help her with it, so he decided to find the deer himself. Before he left, he drew a magic circle around her to keep her safe. So long as she stayed within it, she'd be protected."

Lea can guess what's going to happen and her hands drop the dough, clenching and unclenching tightly. Sita's not going to be safe, is she? Mistress Anita rubs her shoulder gently.

"Hey sweetheart. It'll be okay in the end, you just wait and see. Next, Ravana shifted into a thirsty beggar, and appeared again in front of Sita. As Sita stepped out of the circle to give the beggar water, Ravana shifted back to his normal form and kidnapped her. When Rama returned empty-handed from the forest, he was shocked and confused to find Sita gone. He went searching back in the forest, and came across the monkey king, Hanuman, who agreed to help Rama search for Sita.

"Hanuman searched for days, eventually finding Sita in Ravana's prison on the island of Lanka. He took the news back to Rama, and together they gathered an army of monkeys to go to Sita's rescue.

"The battle lasted for ten days, and Ravana was winning, before finally Rama saw his chance and shot Ravana with an enchanted arrow given to him by the gods. He died, and Rama and Sita were reunited, and everyone in the kingdom lit lanterns so they could find their way home. That's why we light diyas for Diwali, and celebrate Sita's rescue and their reunion."

Lea nods and swallows, giving Mistress Anita a weak smile. All those people, celebrating Sita's escape for centuries.

And yet, when she tried to escape, all she got was punished. She doesn't even remember the escape now, but she certainly remembers the punishment. But she supposes she is only a Pet, and Sita was a princess.

Still, it's... it's awe-inspiring, Sita's story. That people still celebrate her rescue from imprisonment all these centuries later, that they remember it... there has to be something there for Pets like her, right? She didn't want her handler, she never did. She realises now how relieved she was to be sold. It was like a weight off her chest when Mistress Anita bought her, and she reunited with Theo (although he did just make things more confusing for a while). She still doesn't remember him from before, but she knows she knew him. Just as she knows now that it's a relief not to be used by her handler anymore. Her handler who she would like to find and punch in the face, and for a moment she's glad that Mistress Anita can't read minds because that thought would be worth a huge punishment from anyone.

Theo was happy to see her. And she's happy that Sita made it home.

"Sweetheart, you can stop kneading now," murmurs Mistress Anita, and Lea blinks down at the bowl. The dough is nearly flat.

It's not supposed to be flat, is it?

"Sorry, mistress."

"That's okay. What were you thinking about to cause that?"

Lea swallows. That was a direct question, she has to answer. "My– my handler, mistress."

"Fair enough. I'd quite like to punch him too." Lea blinks. That certainly wasn't the answer she was expecting. "Here. Have a sweet. It'll make you feel better."

Mistress Anita holds out a bowl of coconut chikki, a present from her colleague apparently, and Lea takes a piece hesitantly. It's hard and sweet and she loves it, has done since Mistress Anita first gave her some, but she doesn't understand why she's being given a treat this time. She hasn't done anything to earn it, she thought about hurting her former handler and she messed up the dough, if anything she deserves punishment, not a treat.

As if reading her mind, Mistress Anita says, "It's Diwali, it's a time for eating sweets. Don't worry, I'm sure we can salvage the dough. Divide it into small balls, roughly fourteen if you can, and roll them until they're completely smooth."

Lea does so, and it works. Soon it's time to go inside and make the sugar syrup, next to where Mistress Indira and Theo are working on the stove, and Lea, ignoring her headache, and with Mistress Anita's approval, reaches up and pulls Theo into a hug. He startles but returns it enthusiastically.

She hasn't initiated many hugs since she arrived here, especially not when she's not in distress, but maybe she should. It's not like Theo will hurt her, after all. Their reunion was a good thing. And his hugs really are very nice.

Theo sinks into her chest, and she strokes his hair automatically. She's not sure how she knows he likes it, she just does, and she's right.

And with the kitchen filled with the smell of spices and Theo held tight to her, warm body pressed against hers, she thinks that this place, Mistress Anita and Mistress Indira's flat, is finally starting to feel like home. It's supposed to, it's always been home because her owners live here, but it's never felt like it.

Not until now.

#amow winter whumperland 2022 #whump #whump writing #sanctuary pigeonwhumps #anita oc #theo oc #indira oc #bbu #box boy universe #box babe #box boy #briefly #pet whump #recovery whump #lady whump #recovering whumpee #whumpee and caretaker #multiple whumpees #multiple caretakers #implied noncon #also should be noted that lea has flour on her face #her eyebrow is white #but noones pointing it out bc its cute #and its progress #785 oc #< wrong character tag earlier but im not going all the way to my computer to move that one sorry