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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Note

Chris ► let something slip in front of someone

CW: Noncon touching, pet whump, trauma response, referenced noncon

"Heard you back there."

The man's voice is low, barely a shift of breath against the hair at the nape of his neck. Chris tenses, raising his eyes to the mirror where he washes his hands, and the water runs scalding hot over long fingers but he doesn't feel the heat anymore.

"Wh, what?" His own voice has no weight at all. Not even a whisper, almost no air or sound in the word. His heart starts to race, beating in his throat, forcing it to close before he can play casual or cool, shake it off, pretend otherwise.

Next to his reflection in the mirror - pale face, blue hair pulled back with a clip, green eyes - there is another face, the man leaning in close behind him. Chris stares as the man's hand drops heavy onto his shoulder, watches the fingers he feels digging in, rounded over the ball of his shoulder through his two layers of shirt.

"Heard you, in line, talking to yourself. Silence is better than stammering. Where'd you learn that?"

"I-I..."

"Sssshhhhh, I bet I know." The man's hand trails down his arm, fingertips grazing, until they curve around Chris's forearm and force him to twist and bare the inside of his left wrist.

The blank space, only barely marred now by scar tissue.

"Knew it," The man says, with a smug smile. "You're one of ours. We teach the stutterers that phrase. You're a pet."

Chris freezes, perfectly still.

He doesn't know this man, but he doesn't have to. He knows his cold, cold eyes. They all have the same eyes, all of them, when they hold him down and hurt him.

"H-Handler," He says, his voice very nearly a whimper. "You're, you're a, a... a H-Handler." And still he can't move. He stares at himself, eyes full of tears, wide and white-rimmed in panic, the feather necklace rising and falling rapidly with his breath, and he can't. move. at all.

Coward. Weak. Fucking pet.

When it counts, Chris is always too scared to fight back.

The handler, a strange man in a perfectly normal t-shirt and jeans, leans in and takes a deep breath against the side of Chris's neck. Revulsion twists in Chris like it always has, his knees nearly buckle, and the man's arm snaking around his waist to hold him with an iron grip is all that keeps him standing.

"I-I'm not, an, anymore-"

The man's other hand leaves his wrist to clap over his mouth. He lets out a muffled cry of terror as his back is jerked against the man's chest, his head forced back against his shoulder. It smells like cigarette smoke and soap, it feels rough, like the man's palm will sandpaper his lips.

He whines, pathetic, pleading, shaking his head from side to side, staring at himself in the mirror and willing this to be a dream.

The handler's eyes stay cold, but his smile warms, a little. "Oh, that's a nice sound, sweetheart... Okay, okay. I'm a sucker for a scaredy-cat." He slowly lets Chris's mouth free again, only to close that hand firmly around his throat.

Just like a collar.

"No screaming, pet. And you are one - once a pet, always a pet. What's your number?"

Chris's voice shakes as he answers, feels himself withdrawing, pulling back inside his head, to where he knows how to live afraid, how to be hurt for someone else's pleasure, how to be good.

"223499, Designation Romantic, Facility 001, sir."

No stuttering. No stammering. The words fall out of him like rocks off a cliff, to smash him on the earth beneath his feet.

"Good boy," The handler murmurs. "I thought so. You're too pretty to be anything else."

Too pretty for anything else-

The first tears fall, then, and still he cannot move at all. Still, his body is frozen, and his racing heart is ice.

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @orchidscript , @itallcomesdowntopain

#whump #box boy #pet whump #box boy universe #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #bbu #chris the strawberry blond romantic #noncon touch tw #referenced noncon #trauma response tw #chris and the handler series

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galaxywhump · 3 years

Text

Never Alone

[Masterlist]

Timeline: set after Thorns

cw: discussion of death - murder and suicide, slavery whump, forced relationship, creepy/intimate and possessive whumper, noncon touching and kissing, swearing, alcohol, referenced alcohol abuse, gaslighting, begging, brainwashing, conditioning, hand gagging, creepy comfort, hopelessness, food mention.

~~~

On SV-240 even waking up has become a statement of I don’t want this, I don’t want to be here, I’m going to get out of here, a fight to keep the heart and mind free of the pleasant feelings of waking up well-rested.

Above all, Wren dreads the day when he wakes up happy.

Today is, to his relief, far from that day.

He groans and squeezes his eyes shut when light explodes under his eyelids, and his ears ring from the slightest movement when he curls up further and hides his head between his shoulders.

“Sweetheart?”

“Fuuuck, leave me alone”, he mumbles, Daniel’s voice grating on his ears even more than usual.

“Hangover, huh?”

“Take a wild fucking guess.”

“Told you”, Daniel says in a playfully scolding manner, taking away all the weight of what had happened the day before.

“Please?”

He needs it. Just once he wants to ruin himself, drink until all he feels is the burn of alcohol and he wakes up the next day in the familiar pain of a hangover. Just once he wants to regain the worst part of himself.

So he begs.

“But we’ve taken such good care of your problem, sweetheart. Do you really want to ruin it now?”

“N-not ruin.” You never let me drink anyway, asshole, let alone too much. “Just this one time. Please, I… I need some more. Just tonight.”

“You’re going to regret it tomorrow”, and Wren’s first thought is torture, punishment for daring to ask for something that ridiculous, and he finds himself thinking that more alcohol would still be worth it.

“I know.”

And then, for once, Daniel agrees - unusual, Wren notes bitterly, given that the request wasn’t benefitting him in any way.

“Do you want to get up?”

“No.”

He just wants to stay here, sleep the day away like he would on Earth, alone - even though he knows that the last part is impossible. The first two alone would still be nice, though.

Daniel lays one hand on Wren’s shoulder, and this time he succeeds at opening his eyes to look at him, immediately paying the price of a sharp pain flashing through his head before giving way to dull throbbing.

“See, this is exactly what I wanted to avoid”, Daniel sighs, moving his hand up and down Wren’s arm. “Now you’re out for half a day at least.”

“It’s not like I had any plans anyway”, Wren mutters, averting his gaze.

“That doesn’t mean you should sabotage yourself like that, sweetheart.”

“What, are you playing my therapist now? Leave me alone.”

Daniel sighs again - it’s a heavy sigh that makes Wren’s blood boil, worried, as if Daniel cared about anything and anyone other than himself.

“I’ll bring you breakfast. And water. It should help a bit.”

Wren nods and follows Daniel with his gaze as he gets up from the bed and leaves the room; once he’s alone he fixes his gaze on the wall, trying to fight down thoughts that fill him with unease.

It’s more than he’s even gotten. On Earth he was always alone, left to deal with hangovers on his own. There was never anyone to take care of him, or even just call to check on him, to care.

He just wishes it was anyone but Daniel being kind to him, being by his side, kissing him, waking up before him and bringing him breakfast, saying the three words he’s not sure he even remembers ever hearing before.

He just wishes he had any point of reference. Anyone to have given him all the firsts.

Maybe that was the point, one of the factors that made his price so high. He was a blank canvas with insecurities and issues for Daniel to take advantage of. He had made himself that way, an easy target, not missed by anyone-

Stop. It doesn’t matter.

My name is Wren Rackham. I was kidnapped. I’ve been here for… over a year. I’m still fighting. I’m not broken.

And I’m never going to be.

Daniel comes back, carrying a tray - and Wren can’t help but wonder if it’s the exact same one he once was made to hold up - careful not to drop it, giving Wren a gentle smile that he doesn’t return.

Sitting up makes every muscle in his body protest - he hasn’t had a hangover that bad in years; he supposes that was to be expected after forcible quitting.

“There you go. Need anything else?”

“Yes, I need you to leave me alone.”

Daniel raises his eyebrows as he hands Wren the tray, and shakes his head.

“No need to be so rude, you know. But I’ll blame it on the hangover, and we can move on, alright?”

Wren glares at him briefly, and doesn’t comment further when Daniel sits down on the bed instead of leaving. Doesn’t matter. He’s through despairing every time his requests go unheard… or at least when those requests are this minor.

Being left alone isn’t minor. I’m just giving it up.

Doesn’t. Matter.

Once he’s done with eating, now taking his time drinking the water he was given, reveling in the feeling of no longer being completely parched, Daniel moves closer to him, and there’s touch, as always, a hand on his shoulder, the other brushing his hair away from his forehead, and it’s yet another thing Wren should be disgusted by but isn’t. It’s too frequent for him to care every single time.

Brainwashing. It’s brainwashing. I should fight it.

“Feeling better, sweetheart?”

He gives a tentative nod in response, focusing on the thoughts, trying to rationalize with them.

I know it’s brainwashing. And as long as I know that… I should be okay. I’m fighting. And that’s what matters.

“I just want you to know that I’m always here”, Daniel says, and Wren shivers, hoping that that will be blamed on the hangover too. “Whenever you have a bad day, like today. I’m here to make it better.”

“You’re failing”, Wren mutters, and Daniel laughs, hiding his face in Wren’s neck, sending another shiver of disgust and fear radiating from the spot, which only gets stronger when Daniel wraps one arm around him, and, just like so many times before, he’s trapped by the casual contact. He flinches away from the touch, but the hold just gets tighter, keeping him in place with a silent threat even when Daniel laughs again.

“You’re hilarious, sweetheart.”

A moment of silence, stillness, interrupted only by the clink of the glass as Wren sets it on the nightstand and crosses his arms, staring straight ahead.

“But I’ve been thinking…”, Daniel starts again, amusement fading from his voice, and Wren uses a tiny opening to snark:

“Tragic.”

That doesn’t get a laugh. Daniel exhales into his neck before pulling back, to plant a brief kiss on Wren’s cheek.

“We have so many years together ahead of us”, he whispers, and Wren’s heart pounds with enough force to cause pain, “but… I’ve been thinking about the day when I can’t take care of you anymore. When I’m too old, too weak.”

He’s been thinking about that day too - the day when, if everything else had failed, if escape had proven impossible and all he can do is wait, he finally gains the upper hand.

It’s been at the back of his mind for a while now. Not plan B nor C, closer to plan Z, really, but it has been a small source of hope nonetheless, and - which he now realizes was a mistake - he believed that Daniel wasn’t thinking that far ahead.

“I’m trying not to think about it. What matters is the here and now.” Wren flinches under another kiss. “But I don’t want you to be on your own when I’m gone. I don’t want you to be left all alone on this planet, sweetheart.”

Wren closes his eyes and swallows heavily, his heart knocking against his ribs, its beating echoing in his hungover mind, his entire body frozen in horror and anticipation, it’s too much, too much, he wants to be alone today, he wants to be alone in all those years.

“So when that day comes”, the words finally come, one after another seeping into Wren’s ears, fueling his panic, and his breath hitches when Daniel’s fingers, feather-light, brush over his neck. “I’ll make it quick.”

The words click, the world stops, and Wren is falling.

“Painless”, Daniel continues, his every word careful, solemn. “And then, sweetheart, when you’re gone - and only when I’m sure you are - I’ll join you.”

“No.” Wren’s voice is choked, bordering on a sob, the word carrying all that’s tearing him apart, and Daniel pulls him closer, brushing through his hair with his fingers in a crude caricature of comfort.

“Shh. No need to be scared. It will take years before we’ll have to do it, so try not to worry about it, okay?”

“You’re- you’re fucking insane-”

Daniel covers Wren’s mouth with his hand, muffling his words which turn into a whimper, despair taking over the weak attempt at a snark.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know it’s unexpected, but you’ll get used to that thought eventually, I promise.”

And Wren closes his eyes and sobs, overwhelmed, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, I’m going to escape long before that, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t argue, can’t rationalize the two nightmarish thoughts.

That of spending decades upon decades more in this hell - and that of never, ever escaping it, bound to Daniel until death.

Having his life taken from him once again, this time in the most literal sense.

taglist: @faewhump @inky-whump @whole-and-apart-and-between @garbagewhump @slaintetowhump @whatwasmyprevioususername @moose-teeth @procrastinatingsab @insanitywishes @special-spicy-chicken @redstainedsocks @luminouswhump @untilthepainstarts @lonesome--hunter @spookyboywhump @ohmywhump @renkocchi @whump-only @ihaventwritteninsolong @legallylibra @rose-whump @muddy-swamp-princess @one-stop-whump-shop @girlwithacoolcat @wildlywhumping @oliver-zophie-rose @mnmlover2002 @itallcomesdowntopain

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cubeswhump · 4 years

Text

Box Boy/Babe Info Guide: Worldbuilding Compilation

This universe (multiverse) can be intimidating at a glance. So many writers, so many stories, so much lore. You might not know where to start. First thing us to remember that it's a multiverse and you can change things as you please, but you might want to follow some guidelines. I'm compiling worldbuilding posts from various writers to help new BBU writers get started.

Big thanks to @ashintheairlikesnow @haro-whumps @albino-whumpee @moose-teeth @the-host-and-colton @slaintetowhump @sweetwhumpandhellacomf for all their contributions and concepts created by them. A for writing some rad stories.

Warning for kidnapping, abuse (emotional, psychological, physical, sexual), violence, institutionalized slavery, brainwashing, etc.

I'll begin with a brief overview: Whumpees R Us is a multinational corporation with headquarters in five out of seven continents. They sell human pets who are forced into servitude under the guise of these pets being willing participants. In actuality, a large percentage is coerced or manipulated into signing away their human rights, and a smaller percentage even forced. It's said that all pets are over the age of eighteen but WRU has been known to kidnap and sell minors, especially those who can pass as adults. Peopke who sign up voluntarily are often desperate. They're poor and can hardly get by, they're isolated and lonely and the WRU promises to give them a happy home, they're mentally ill and the WRU promises to cure them.

These people are rigorously trained, brainwashed with a cocktail of drugs and abuse into forgetting their names and old lives. They are tattooed with barcodes and six-digit identification numbers. Once their training is complete they enter the market. Customized boxies and firsthands sell for much higher prices but those who are returned and refurbished are often sold for as cheap as a used car. They are often abused by owners and have few to no protections as they are considered property and what owners do to property is their own agenda. The WRU sends the message that boxies are happy but in actuality they're trained to convey happiness and not recognize feelings of displeasure, and they can't give consent.

There are liberation groups but these are few and far between. These liberation groups are considered crazy abd making a big deal out of nothing, pets are happy and cared for and it's an owner's right to have a pet!!! All these abuse allegations are LiES!!!! They're frowned upon and rescuing boxies is considered kidnapping and a felony so these organizationsmust operate in secrecy. Members of liberation groups have been known to disappear from society and end up on the markets as a boxie with their memories wiped.

Here is an overall FAQ.

The fairly new CEO of the entire multinational corporation WRU is Timothy Rahm. You can learn about him here.

The Director of Sustomer Success and Satisfaction at the North American branch of WRU is called Karen Renford. For info on her, check here.

The confidential documentation WRU keeps on trainees/boxies. I believe it was first made by ashintheairlikesnow for her character Chris, template made blank and posted ny albino-whumpee.

BBU Training: Common training phrases, all designations, disciplinary measures, rules held by company.

Common discipline by owners shown within a story, includes items shipped with boxies

Psychology of Torture in the BBU: Specifically WRU training techniques and effects

Training for bonded pairs

Injectable drugs used on trainees

What trainees are fed at WRU facilities

Cost of a boxie: new versus refurbished

Housing/rooms for trainees

History of BBU, tracing its origins and rise

Most or all boxies are taught various positions.

WRU propaganda is everywgere and takes various shapes and forms, including films.

WRU job advertisement and recruiting

Pet trade and social medua/Public viewpoints

How the pet trade may affect the working class and jobs (sorry to use my own post)

Affection felt by Platonics versus affection felt by Romantics

Pet libration and rescue resources

Therapy for rescues/stigma towards Romantics

Pet trade in various countries

Influence of sexual orientation

On escaped boxies picking a new name versus keeping their pet name: building a new identity as part of recovery

What if a boxie has a baby?

If a pet commits a crime

Rescues finding jobs

Ashintheairlikesnow's overall worldbuilding tag

Tag for BBU-related questions sent to the-host-and-colton

Interview of four popular BBU writers

Additional info: I can't find a post supporting it but in various stories I've observed that trainees are given the same uniform, loose white T-shirts and black shorts. They are often desperate for clothes that properly cover them after leaving the facility.

And the most important thing I'll say is this: You write what you want. The fun is seeing other people's interpretations and creativity. You do you and make yourself happy. Don't you worry about pleasing everyone else (of course, you better respect other writers or I'll give you a firm talking to. I'll warn you, I'm a teaching major and the oldest sibling, I can give some boring lectures).

If I missed anything that belongs on this list let me know!

#bbu #wru #whumpees r us #box boy #box boy multiverse #box boy universe #boxboy #box babe #worldbuilding #pet whump #tw violence #tw abuse #abuse tw

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boxboysandotherwhump · 4 years

Photo

No 7. I’VE GOT YOU Support | Carrying | Enemy to Caretaker

This @whumptober2020 is for the awesome @moose-teeth and @slaintetowhump <3

you both are super sweet amazing people and I love love love your babys B and Demitri :3 <3 (and adore you as writers!!!)

#whumptober2020 #no.7 #support #boxboy universe #art #whump art #boxboy whump #pet whump #boxboys #boxboy #B the guard dog #demitri pretty lindemann #gooooood i have so many feelings for those boys #T___T

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whump-tr0pes · 4 years

Text

Honor Bound 2 is out!!

You can find it here!

This process has been so amazing and frustrating and life-changing and I am so, so grateful to everyone who contributed, especially my editor, @kyliebean-editing

If you’d like to buy the book, you can find it in ebook and paperback form!

If you do buy the book, it would help me so much if you would leave a review on Amazon. More reviews means more visibility means more readers!

If you aren’t interested or don’t want to buy the book right now, please consider supporting me here on Ko-fi!

If you just don’t have money to spare right now, please consider sharing the link to Honor Bound 2! Please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging the Honor Bound 2 hype and chapters posted online.

I appreciate the lovely folks who have helped me with ideas, proofreading, support, and signal boosting. You’re a kind and wonderful bunch. I’ll be hosting a voice chat on my server here in the next few hours.

Honor Bound gang, here it is!!

@untilthepainstarts, @womping-grounds, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @whatwhumpcomments, @cursedscribbles, @whumpywhumper, @stxck-fxck, @omega-em-z-02, @whumps-the-word, @justwhumpitwhumpitgood, @justplainwhump, @moose-teeth, @slaintetowhump, @finder-of-rings, @inky-whump, @thatsthewhump, @orchidscript, @insanitywishes, @this-mightaswell-happen, @newandfiguringitout, @whumpkitty, @pretty-face-breaker, @cinnamonflavoredhugs, @inaridriscoll, @im-just-here-for-the-whump, @endless-whump

#honor bound 2 #publishing #signal boost #y'all are lovely

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whumpfigure · 3 years

Note

Request: “Say please. Say it. Say it.” :3

Timeline: Bastet's time with Michael.

CW: pet whump, dehumanization, conditioned whumpee, box boy universe, forced mutism, stress positions, veryyy vague mentions of nfsw(basically, just calling Bastet a cuss word), Michael.

"Say please," Michael says from where he's half laying on his bed, a couple of feet away from Bastet. "And I'll let you down."

In front of him, Bastet is standing on his tiptoes, on the bottleful of gravel Michael had gathered last week in the park. His wrists and elbows are tied tied tightly behind his back, by the rough ropes Michael found in the Old Guy's bedroom. More ropes connect his wrists to his waist, looping around and around the thin frame of him. Tight enough to make it hurt, if he takes in a deep enough breath. There's another piece of rope, tied to the knot on his elbows, which goes up and up to the ceiling. Securing him to the hook installed up there.

Michael can't see his arms from this angle. But he's sure if he walks around his fraile form, he'll find his hands and forearms all purple. It's been a good hour already, after all. And the ropes were tight enough to have cut off the circulation already.

All those kink websites Michael learnt the knots from suggested leaving some slack in the ropes. Saying that it was important to keep the circulation going. But really, Michael doesn't care. If anything, more pain is a step forward to get Bastet to talk. To beg Michael to stop.

But so far, he has stayed quiet. Except for the little whimpers of pain when Michael tightened the ropes around his elbows, causing the whip marks on his back to be squeezed between his upper arms.

He's gone back to silence now though. Only weeping, and letting out soundless sobs every once in a while.

Which is going on Michael's nerves, right now.

'Come on god!' Michael thinks with himself. 'I just want to hear a pet beg me. Is this too much to ask?'

"Bastet." Michael calls out his name, and Bastet's head slowly raises to look at him. Eyes teary and dazed with pain, and cheeks wet with previously-shed tears.

'At least he does beg well with eyes.' Michael thinks, and nearly snorts at the mockery of it.

"Did you hear me? I told you to say please, and I'd let you down." Michael waves his right hand in the air, as if he's explaining the most casual stuff to his little brother at home.

Bastet instead, sobs in return. A sound Michael has learnt is off-limits for him, but he can't control it when the pain gets too much. The Old Guy's told him of the multiple times he's had to punish him for that exact same sound. And really, Michael cannot understand him. Why punish the boy for making such delicious sounds? If Michael were his owner, he'd cherish all those delicate signs of vulnerability.

But now, it's a good time to use the Old Guy's methods to get Bastet to talk. Or, to beg, more specifically.

"Enough of your pitiful noises, pet. I gave you an order." Michael lowers his tone, and pushes his body off his bed. He sees Bastet try to take a step back from him, only to be stopped by the rope hanging him from the ceiling, and the gravel digging into his feet.

"Say please, pet." Michael grabs the knife - which he never uses because he can't leave any evidence on the boy's body for his owner to see - from his nightstand, and strides over to Bastet. Pressing the blade somewhere just above his collar.

He never uses the knife, but it doesn't mean he can't scare the boy with it.

"Say it," Michael leans his head in the crook of Bastet's neck, and whispers in his ear. Knife still held firmly near Bastet's pulse. "Say it, whore."

Tagging: @slaintetowhump @ashintheairlikesnow @liliability @ohmywhump @whumptywhumpdump @raigash @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @simplygrimly @whump-it @misspelledwitch @inky-whump @inaridriscoll @rivertamandspike @spookyboywhump @faewhump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpzone @sola-whumping @whumpsy-daisies @crystalrainwing @a-whump-muffin @tears-and-lilies @cupcakes-and-pain @string-of-broken-hearts

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Note

Nooooooo Chris bby no

CW: Noncon touching, referenced noncon, noncon kiss trauma/panic response, pet whump, intimate whumper, creepy whumper, crass/derogatory language

Someone comes in, uses the bathroom, washes their hands, and leaves. Chris can see them over the handler's shoulder through the crack between the closed stall door and the side, flimsy metal that doesn't quite meet.

He breathes in shuddery, shaking gasps, but he doesn't - he can't - make a sound. The handler holds him tightly, the weight and heat of his body forcing Chris back against the wall. They're both still clothed, but the handler's breath is hot on his ear and Chris might throw up, or bite, or...

No he won't.

He'll be still and silent and good.

He always does this - he always freezes up. Somewhere inside himself, derailed, there is a train wreck screaming at him to fight or flee, but Chris can't do that, he's never done that, he's always done just what he is doing now.

Freeze, and be good, and hope that it won't be as bad as he knows it can be. As it has been. As it will probably be again.

His breath hitches, and the handler jams a shoulder into his collarbone to quiet him. The man who came in leaves, and it's only the two of them again.

"What do you do pet, with your barcode sawed off, huh? What makes money for your fancy lattes these days? You got a sugar daddy?"

The handler kisses him before he can answer. The press of lips on his is familiar, repulsive, inevitable. It would always be this, in the end, wouldn't it?

He has an acceptance letter to a real college pinned to the fridge, and it doesn't matter, because once a pet, always a pet, and never anything more.

Chris chokes on his disgust, shakes his head to the question, twists away from the handler's attempt to kiss him again. His clip is torn loose and his hair falls into his face, a blue curtain, not a wall he can hide behind.

"St-stop-"

The handler grips his chin and forces his head up, to meet his eyes. Chris whines, hates himself. He's supposed to be better now, stronger, and he's not. Still Baldur, still 223499, still nothing, still just a black hole with legs. No one at all.

Not a person.

Just a pet.

"You know better," The handler chides, patronizing. Chris sees him through a blurry sheen of tears, fuzzy and unfocused. "You don't get to know that word anymore."

You have two options, trainee. You can choose to be good, or choose to get hurt. I always give you options, don't I?

Yes, Handler Petrus-

"How do you answer a handler, pretty boy?"

Chris whispers, "N-no, sir, I d-d-don't have-... have, have... have a, a, a sug, a s-sugar daddy-"

"Then what? Whoring yourself like the other Romantics? That how you make a living?" Chris shudders, managing a breathy no, sir, and the handler chuckles, one hand still gripped tight over his throat, the other slipping up under Chris's shirt to find the layer of compression fabric beneath. "Oh, you're a double-wrapped fucking Christmas present, huh? Well, I know where we can go. I'll get a room at a motel. Show me you still know your tricks, pet, and I'll even let you go without turning you in."

"You-... You will?" Hope, dizzying as any vertigo, fights for space in his racing chaotic mind.

Chris's head starts to spin. His hands, pressed to the cool walls, tap desperately, but there's no soothing to be had here. Words are starting to fall apart, spark and dissipate, lose connection with his brain.

He manages, "Y-you... You, you, you... You p-promise? If I-I'm good?"

"Scout's Honor. Did you come here alone, pretty boy?" The handler's fingers twist some of Chris's hair, tuck it behind his ear, fiddle with the six piercings there, pressing rough thumb over them one by one. "Hm?"

Tears run warm down Chris's cheeks as he hiccups on a sob and whimpers, "Yes, s-sir, I'm al, al, alone."

He lets himself be pulled out of the bathroom and towards the door with his head down and his eyes on the floor.

He"s a terrible liar - but he's crying so hard that the handler can't tell.

Look up, he thinks, desperately. The handler's grip on his hand is bruising tight, an arm around his lower back, a whispered litany of the things he is going to do to Chris when they get to the motel.

Chris says yes to them all. He doesn't remember anymore how to say no.

He doesn't get to remember no.

They move across the cafe to the door, to all appearances a man concerned about his upset friend. Chris can't cry for help. Pets don't ask for help. They don't need it.

They're pets.

He's a pet.

Everything else he's ever tried to be is a lie.

And yet...

Look up, he pleads, inside his own mind. Look up, see me, help me, help.

Look up, Antoni.

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#whump #box boy #pet whump #box boy universe #creepy whumper #intimate whump #intimate whumper #noncon touch #referenced noncon #noncon kiss #chris the strawberry blond romantic #derogatory language #trauma response tw #chris and the handler series

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