"The Real Deal" - Chapter 5
"The Real Deal"
(C) 2017 Sinclair Diavante
Chapter 5.
The world was tilting backwards... forward? Up. Weight, settling down onto his hindpaws, he had been lying on a bed, softer than any prison mattress ever even dreamed of being.
So comfy.
A motorized sound, near his ears, as he finished standing upright, eyes flickering open, but he saw nothing but deep red light, his heart picked up a few extra beats, like when he woke from a nice nap.
Had he been dreaming?
Walls, close to his arms, like a coffin. Or the wall of his cell.
He almost felt like he was high on speed. His knot was hard, major morning wood.
"Wake up. Fleas? Unbelievable. Go into the fresher, and wash all that shit out of your fur." A deep voice, maybe his celly. He smelled... eager.
"Dude... few cells down, has em," he mumbled. "New guy, from county. Can't breed, got that shit they spray on us... don't worry, man... wake me up before chow." He was talking to no one in particular, the words just tumbled from his dry mouth.
His eyes focused, he took in his surroundings with sudden fear, staring at brown, slick walls, digital displays showing pictures of his body from different angles, his wrist had been severely cut, one showed all his tendons knitting back together. A metal corridor stretched before him, it carried an antiseptic smell.
Dude was standing near him.
Mist.
He wasn't in prison.
Damn, he's tall.
He swallowed, noticing the snug tightness around his neck, ahhh, fuck! Those gold things were sticking through his fur and touching his skin.
Another collar. Why was it so warm?
Shit... he remembered it all, now.
"This... this is all serious?" he asked, feeling... dazed, while a tiny bit high. Horny, even. Eyes, opening wider. Dude actually laughed.
"You had better believe it," Mist said. "This is as serious as a heart attack, so move your ass, or the pain begins, now. You are already in my autodoc, shall we proceed with a few broken bones? Step out."
Tony noticed that there wasn't even a hint of fear or deception with this guy. Coulda just been saying it was gonna rain outside.
Well, he'd change that. Enough was enough. No time like the present.
Just the right distance, too, so he took a step and openly stared at his stomach, making his fists tight, like he'd punch him there.
Not where he'd actually hit, of course.
That was Tony's little trick, throw blind, dude would block in the wrong spot, every time.
Tony came at him with a left, also a surprise. No one saw a left coming. He couldn't wait to feel it connect, break this dudes jaw, it would feel so good, you FUCKER!
Tony wasn't looking at where he'd hit, that was the only downside. Wish he had seen, cuz the dude only caught his hand with a loud smack, shifted, turned, lined up. Tony knew what was coming next, the one spot he couldn't defend.
So vulnerable, so stupid, his poor ribs. He couldn't get his right arm down in time, but he tried to anyway. This was gonna hurt.
It did.
Mist hit him with a grunt, again, and again, three tremendous body blows, Tony yelped on the third, he couldn't help it, a rib cracked. Mist was Jacky Chan fast, like them old videos on the institutional tv channels, and he wouldn't let go of his left paw, so Tony could only stand there, taking it. Couldn't get the leverage to pull at his paw and drop his right arm, not at the same time. Soon as he did drop, Mist would just nail him in the muzzle.
Fucker was grinning, he hit him two more times, in the exact same spot, fucker hit HARD, and on the second, he felt and heard something snap in his chest, he dropped his right arm involuntarily, saw color explode in his vision, as if he'd been hit in his head.
That came next, snapped his jaws shut, hit him right on the chin, he tried to step back, so he wouldn't fall, but an iron bar was behind his ankles, dude's leg.
Down he went, head slammed against the side of the autodoc, instant stars, he stared at the ceiling with unseeing eyes, something loose in his mouth, couple of teeth, and some of his tongue. Lots of watery blood.
"Pain teaches best, so that is what I do," he said, angry, dark, crossing his arms and squaring off his feet, to stare down at him. "You will call me, trainer, now.
"Say it."
Tony just stared, narrowing his eyes.
Sudden pain surged into him like he'd been punched in his balls, pain that made him want to double up, fold in on himself. Secondary pain shot into his lungs, impossible to breathe, from what had to be broken ribs, he was like a pinball, bouncing off the walls of hurt in his body, roaming its halls and striking his face against random surfaces.
Electricity, as if it had real intelligence, somehow twisted and hunted around in his chest, it sliced through his guts, slowly rising, seeming to pick different areas all on its own, until it centered on the collar, tearing at his neck muscles, and that's when he knew what was responsible.
His collar.
It was making him twist, grinding the bones in his abdomen together, he felt sick, actually worried about his health now, pitying his body, his precious insides, no, stop, quit moving, Tony. You're hurt. He bared his teeth.
"F-fuck that," he coughed. Even speaking hurt.
His back suddenly arched away from the floor, eyes rolled back painfully, the explosion produced a chorus of agony, what the collar injected into him, mixed with real, broken bones. He wanted to stop, needed to stop, his lungs were crushed, blood was in his mouth, and terror riddled his mind, because it was now from within, he was coughing blood. Survival instincts screamed at him, stop, stop! Submit!
"Say it..."
Tony grabbed the collar and pulled, but new pain doubled, then tripled, his fingers were on fire, he could hear his neck muscles shredding, their pain was so quiet in comparison, a sound like pulling the meat in a sandwich apart, a ringing sound filled his ears, now, along with fresh nausea, his asshole actually hurt from clenching so tight, curling his tail between his legs to protect his scrotum from invisible forces.
Then nothing.
Two sharp jolts, making sure he didn't pass out, he had been about to, the bones in his chest rubbed together briefly, it felt like being stabbed, they helped him to gasp in a breath, and he was sure that this was his last chance to draw air.
Use it.
"Trainer," barely more than a whisper, spoken with a quivering voice. He said it accusingly, as if he were begging for quarter, his chest shuddered as he labored to breathe, the heat from his damaged body was now thick in the air, rising with the scent of his defeat.
He had never known it could go so deep, or far. He'd only heard of being beat within centimeters of his life.
"That works. Good boy. Come on, up you go." Dude picked him up, paws under his pits, uncaring of his injured ribs.
Did he just call him a good boy?
His sudden flare of anger was instantly snuffed out by his sharp gasp, he cried out in pain with his jaws far apart, a blowtorch had been lit in his stomach, his ribs must be cutting into it.
Mist set him back into the alcove, and it began tilting flat. Tony was unable to stop whimpering, he could only take the smallest breaths, and they weren't enough, he was suffocating. He couldn't hold still, everything was hurt, broke, torn, bleeding, somewhere there must be a way to move, to stop the pain. The ringing in his ears was getting louder, and louder, with a pounding headache right on its heels.
Silence.
The world was tilting backwards... forward? Up. Weight, settling onto his hindpaws, he had been lying on a bed, softer... than any prison mattress...
Ever even dreamed of being.
Comfy.
Motorized sound near his ears, standing upright, eyes he absolutely didn't want to open.
Heart started hammering.
Not a dream.
Walls close to his arms, like a coffin, but not the walls of his cell.
His knot painfully hard now, coldness at the tip of his sheath, trickling down. Even his balls were cold, he was leaking that much pre.
He explored that idea.
Had he ever been this horny in his whole life? One buck of his hips would certainly send his cum spraying at his chin.
"What's my name?"
Tony's eyes snapped open, parting from his reverie, they were wide and afraid. Pain... but no, only a memory. Every muscle in his body tensed, then relaxed.
Like an echo from the previous damage.
"Trainer."
"You do not want to fuck with me," He shook his head. "Not near that," he pointed at the alcove he was in with a smirk. "You are in deep shit, I could cut you up all day, and explore the limits of my new autodoc, see what it is capable of piecing back together."
Tony considered that horror for a moment. He felt sullen and defeated.
"You want a way out, but I will tell you right now, there is none. Accept it."
It's like he could read his mind.
"Your collar will kill you well before you ever manage to cut it off. Know that as a fact, it is a Mark V, the latest made. We could have a lot of fun, you and I, seeing what it can do to you, for there is so much more than pain it has to offer."
Tony held a paw up and brushed its warm surface, grimacing. It was flexible, unlike any metal collar he'd worn in prison. That only meant it could fit closer to his neck, and it did.
"I get that you want it off, would you like me to take it off of you right now?" He smiled.
"Ask, and I will."
Tony didn't know what game this was, but he sure wasn't gonna hesitate, he didn't mean to... but the words he needed, they just... weren't there, all of a sudden.
His eyes went wide, his mouth opened... what he had to say was on the tip of his tongue, but he only grunted and drooled a little bit.
Tongue twitching, mind... blank... what are words?
Something was wrong with his mind!
"Good, good. I like it on you, too, I think it looks fitting, it was very expensive, the best, for the best, that could be you.
"Get used to it, that stays on your neck forever. A big wolf like you needs someone like me to keep him inline. The tags say so, see this?" Mist reached forward, touched the metal, it clinked.
"It says I am your owner. You do what I say, and then you will feel good. Disobey, and you will feel bad. Pretty simple, don't you think?"
Tony wasn't sure if he should try speaking. He didn't understand why his words wouldn't form... but they were back now, somehow.
"I expect an answer when I ask you a question, and this is the only warning you will get, for the rest of your life. Do not test me."
"Yes, trainer."
"Good! Good. Now we're making progress! That makes me very happy. Words you will learn to love. Down this hall, at the end, the door is open." He swept his arm out, ushering. "Clean that shit out of your fur. Take a long shower, relax, collect yourself. This is your home now." Mist stepped back.
He was really enjoying this, Tony could smell it.
Tony walked forward, trying not to stare at him, but he couldn't help it. He paused, staring, letting his eyes drift past those green emeralds of his. Eyes that contained both fear and pain, his. He wanted neither, he'd had his fill.
"What... can... I ask you a question," he only hesitated for the briefest moment, but Mist's pupils suddenly widened. He almost flinched, seeing that, knowing what could come, what would come, now. "Trainer?"
"Yes?"
"What am I on?"
"Something special, it's going to help you. Get moving, your smell and appearance offends me. And, puppy?"
Tony's pupils widened at the reference, but he was past caring. He paused and made eye contact.
"No pawing. I'll know if you do. I want you frustrated right now, so, deal with it."
He could only stare in disbelief, then turned and walked away, gritting his teeth. He'd been planning to do precisely that in the shower. Maybe he still would.
Tony took in the sights of the ship he was on. The halls were wide, with tall ceilings, he wondered if anyone else was on board, but then he stumbled to a halt, staring through the windows in a wide set of doors on his right.
Past them was a cavernous room, and in it, what had to be at least... an Olympic sized swimming pool, lit brightly, blue from within, and above, crisp reflections of the water's surface churning and dancing on the walls around it, little blue, red, and white floats on long white ropes, marking off lanes, its soft waves lapping at the edges.
Tony had never even heard of something like that on a starship, how was it possible? The weight of the water alone.
He turned back to glance at Mist in shock, and then continued on his path to the end, feeling amazed. The tickle in his ribs reminded him of what had happened... hours? Before.
He actually had no idea of how long he was out. The 'doc had healed everything in his body, he felt better than new.
The tags on his collar kept making a little noise with every step he took. He tried altering how he set his feet down, and moved his body in different ways, but nothing really made it go away.
There was some anger from that, immense, in fact. But terror held it in check, a perfect counter, no different than when a cop gave him a direct order.
Obeying those in power was nothing new.
That dude... man, he had one hell of a left.
He entered the 'fresher in disbelief, this ship was a fucking mansion inside.
It was... extensive, was that the right word? Where... did that word even come from? Not part of his vocabulary.
He shut the door, it had a lock, and he almost pushed it... but... maybe he'd just leave it.
This shower, with him in it all alone, six wide nozzles from above, blue ceramic tiles. His mouth watered in earnest pleasure. There wasn't even a sliding door, the space was more than ample to catch any over-spray.
He walked to the center and repeatedly hit a red button on the wall, watching the display show hotter, and hotter, bracing for the cold water to start, but it was hot from the moment it poured down on him from above, drenching him.
He couldn't help it, he whimpered and groaned, leaning his arms against the wall, legs spread wide and tail out, while staring down, watching the reddish brown water swirl around the drain, scabs and clots between his toes breaking free. So much blood had been in his fur, everywhere.
His body actually meant a lot to him, it was something he took good care of, because it was the only possession that he had.
What the fuck had he gotten into?
He had woken up that morning, certain of only one thing... that he'd be going to sleep in his cell, later that night.
How wrong he'd been.
Unless... that's where this dude will keep him.
A cell, on this ship.
Probably best not to even think about that, right then. Tony could obey, maybe even try to earn something better. He'd figure out what the dude wanted.
He combed soap into his fur, it came from an electronic dispenser built into the wall, and it smelled... astringent, chemical. A few black specks immediately jumped off of him, fleas didn't like it at all, apparently, they swirled around in the deluge of water, only to fall down the drain.
They're not supposed to lay eggs, in prison. Not with the shit they sprayed on them in medical. But for some reason, they never entirely disappeared. Fleas were part of prison.
He stood there, thinking about his life, fur heavy with wet, hanging off of his body. Tail so heavy he could hardly lift it.
Planning was automatic, but for once... he had none. Usually it centered around how to get money, and where to live. What to eat. Who to trust. None of that applied now.
Eventually, he hit the stop button.
He shook, from his torso all the way to his legs, flinging water off of him, it felt so invigorating he wanted to shout.
He saw a little swirl icon start to glow next to the stop button.
He hit it.
Air rushed in from the floor, while a chattering, screaming brittle noise blasted at him from an emitter above. The water in his fur turned into steam, and he pinned his ears flat, holding his eyes shut, his fur whipping around in the hot breeze, like being in the center of a hurricane. He slowly crept sideways, following the wall to get the fuck out of there. What new torture was this?
When he finally stepped past the shower area, it fell silent, and now, only his hindpaws were wet, the floor absorbed the moisture in his pads, they actually stuck to it, like how dried clay sucks up water.
He stared down at himself and ran his fingers through his smooth, silky fur, amazed at how dry and clean it was. He glanced in the mirror, it made up one whole wall, and he took two quick steps right up to it, staring closely, shocked by what he saw, he gasped.
There he was, staring back at himself.
Thick brown fur, sharp black markings down his arms, neck, and legs. Around both of his ears, sure.
But...
Yeah, he wore a collar, shiny metal, look at those tags. You're someone's fucken pet now, you big idiot.
But... How was that possible?
His eyes.
They were both yellow now.