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liliaethTitle: Beautiful
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
liliaeth
Artist:reapertownusa
Genre: horror, slave fic,
Characters, Pairing(s): Dean/OC
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 28509
Kinks/Warnings: AU, underage (Dean is 14), slave fic, non-con, brainwashing, mind control, mention of castration, non consensual body modification, prostitution, child abuse
Summary: Donahue is your rich eccentric business man, with a love for cats, it’s just that his cats used to walk on two feet. One day when he decides to add another cat to his collection, his attention falls on Dean.
Betaed by the far too amazingvarkelton, who somehow managed to get through this entire big bang in less than a day...
Dean woke up covered in darkness. The only light to hit his eyes came from emergency lighting inserted into the walls. Even if he could reach high enough to get to it, he wouldn't be able to pull anything out to use it as a weapon.
Three of the others were sleeping on their platforms, and this time Dean was careful not to wake them up. One still lifted his head when Dean landed on the floor, no matter how quiet Dean tried to move. Not that it seemed to matter, cause the boy just went back to sleep, his movements underlined with the soft sound of bells. Cold shivers ran down Dean’s spine, and this time he wasn’t afraid to admit that it wasn’t caused by a ghost.
Dean wondered if there was a way to ask any of them for a way out, write some kind of message out in sand, mouth a question to them, hoping they’d understand it, but from the way they acted, he didn't think they'd help, even if he could any of them to break the no talking rule. The way they just lay there, spread out like cats on a hot afternoon, was the scariest part of this place, almost as if they'd accepted their fate and were just making themselves comfortable, like there was nothing human left inside of them.
Just death echoes, crawling around and pretending to be cats.
Dean had seen a lot of horrifying things in his short life, but the empty look in his fellow captive’s eyes was worse than any ghost, monster or ghoul he’d met since his father started hunting.
His stomach growled, demanding to be filled. No matter how much the very idea of it disgusted him, he knew that the only food he'd find was the stuff in the pet feeders. Dad always said it was stupid to refuse food when you were taken, it would only make you weaker and remove yet another option for escape. Crawling over to the vile things, he found the green feeder front and center. He stuffed his revulsion down deep and, clinging to any small rebellion he could find, pressed on the blue feeder to the right. Fuck the old man and his green. Food came out and he reached in to grab some, but the collar gave a warning volt as soon as his hand reached into the bowl. He quickly pulled it back.After counting to a ten a hundred times or so his teeth finally stopped clattering, his body still hurting from far too many previous shocks in way too small a time. Breathing in and out, he tried again, this time with the green bowl. It made no difference. He didn’t understand, he just sat there, kneeling, shivering, he’d done what they wanted, hadn’t he? So why did they keep punishing him? He wanted to kick at the thing, slam his foot on it, if he’d been wearing his boots he probably would have. But if he was wearing his boots then he wouldn’t be here, now would he?
How were they expecting him to eat out of the thing, if he was punished when he tried to do so. He leaned over it, trying to find something, anything that would let him do so. Maybe there was some kind of button he was supposed to press? Ask for permission, or similar crap like that.
But when his face leaned over the brown pellets and smudge passing themselves off as food, he couldn't help but notice a feeling of wellbeing pass through his body, as if someone caressed every nerve ending in his body from the inside out.
He froze, then slowly pulled his face away… and it stopped. It was only when he leaned back over the bowl that it started up again.
Hell no, they couldn't expect him to...
His stomach rumbled again, he needed to eat, he kicked the feeder and then grabbed for his foot, he tried to grab it up, but the shocks started up again. Finally he forced his face into the bowl and as he pushed his tongue into the food, licking at the food in the bowl, that same feeling spread through his body, making him feel better and better. He worked at the food like a river did at a rock, taking away more of it as he figured out how to pick out the pieces of salmon amidst the veggies. He sat there on his knees, ass lifted up in the air as he had to bend over to get his face in the bowl. He didn't even think of trying to grab for the bowl of water, too desperate to get rid of the parched feeling in his mouth that he pressed his face in the water as if he was sinking into a bucket filled with apples at last week’s Halloween party at Melissa’s placeand tried to lick up as much of the water as he could, swallowing what he could get in between his lips and letting the rest of it sip on down from his cheeks. God, Melissa with the big boobs that looked two years older than she was and had every guy in school drooling over her. Just thinking about her made his balls ache. He wondered what Melissa would think of him now, her dad would probably think Dean deserved this after he found them kissing on the back porch.
Dean shivered, wishing he was facing Melissa’s father now, instead of the nutcases in this building. At least if the man had used his shotgun on Dean, all he’d be dealing with was the humiliation of getting the nuggets out while Sam laughed at his discomfort for the rest of his life.
What little he ate settled in his gut and he backed away from the bowls, staring at the sand boxes . They stood there, so obvious, he couldn’t ignore them no matter how much he wanted to. Even when he turned away, he could see their reflection in the windows. He had to find a way out, he just had to, because there was no way this was the rest of his life. Maybe at this time of night, he'd have more chance of finding an open door and a way out.
His balls itched, growing heavier with every passing second, but he did his best to ignore it. Now his damn dick bounced up against his legs and caused more than its share of trouble as he tried to move through the house. He’d never felt like this. Not even when he’d sat behind the Willard twins in the last town they’d been, with their boobs the size of the Hollywood sign and their asses so tight you could bounce a penny on them. It hurt, hurt so bad, he nearly fell over, but… stubbornly, he shoved his discomfort to the side forced himself to continue on.
With every second, his dick seemed to grow harder and bigger. He finally had to stop against a wall, desperate to rub his hands alongside his troublesome flesh, trying to get it to just soften up even a little bit. Trying to ease the need, he could hear his father’s voice in his head, “Ignore it”, Dad would say.” Put it in the back of your mind and move on, a Hunter can’t let his body decide what he should or shouldn’t do. But it was hard, so hard, and he wasn’t his Dad. He wasn’t good enough, wasn’t strong enough…
And even thinking of how disappointed his father would be wasn’t enough to make his dick get the message. What the hell was wrong with the thing?
Soft spurts of spunk slid out, dripping on the floor in front of him, leaving a trace as he tried to take a few more steps, but he was still hard, he tried another step, it didn't help. By now his entire body was starting to writhe with a need to come, and he curled up in a corner, backing up against the wall, his balls lying thick on the floor as his fingers rubbed at his dick over and over, desperate for relief.
What had they done to him?
Maybe he needed a cold shower, something, anything… he tried thinking of the math teacher back at school, her wrinkled skin, and yellowing teeth as she lit up another smoke. It was almost enough to make him throw up when he realized that thinking of her only made things worse.
It didn’t matter what face, what object, what horror he thought of, just thinking about anything, anything at all, seemed to increase the pressure in his balls. Soon he was panting, crawling out of his skin with need, sobbing for release. He didn’t even notice the shocks coursing through his body as he begged anyone to please help him. He had to be out of his mind, because if he wasn’t, then there was nothing to blame but himself for the fact that he hadn’t noticed the man standing there until he came up to Dean and lifted Dean’s face up to look at him.
*********
Dean looked up at him, still shivering with the aftereffects of the shocks. It seemed like it took forever, but the man just waited patiently. Dean opened his mouth, closed it with what little was left of his sanity, and finally begged the man with just his eyes to put an end to his agony, to please, please, stop it.
The man smiled somewhat kindly as his hand brushed over Dean’s back. His every touch coursed through Dean like a drug, turning the pain into ecstasy. This was nothing like what he had felt when he’d pushed his face into that bowl of food. It would be like comparing a flame to a forest fire.
“Just let go.” The man whispered, as his hand moved down to Dean’s ass, fingers pressing into his thighs, rubbing a circle over his hip.
Dean’s dick finally got the message, and he started coming all over his thighs and the floor.
“There, there, everything is fine,” the man said, finally moving to Dean’s dick, petting it gently before he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and started cleaning Dean up. “That’s a good boy.”
Dean wanted to beg him to stop, but his body wouldn’t let him, eagerly pushing back against the man’s touch as if already addicted to the sensations that came with the tension from his fingertips. The sounds coming out of him weren’t even intelligible as words, which was probably why the collar didn’t punish him for them.
“You’re so beautiful. The prettiest cat I’ve ever owned.” The man got up, and Dean was crawling behind him before he even fully realized what he was doing. He didn’t even understand why. His mind kept telling him to stop, to run. But all the man had to do was brush through Dean’s hair and over his cheek and he was back on track to following the stranger, the john, out through the hall, passing doors by doors until the man opened one and Dean watched him as he headed into the living room.
This was the guy that had drugged him, the guy that had… The old man called him Donahue. Dean wanted to call him the big creep.
Donahue sat down in the seat that looked so much like a nest and petted the fabric next to him and Dean found himself crawling into the room and jumping up as well.
If he was the cat, then Donahue was catnip and no matter how much Dean tried to stop himself, he couldn’t resist.
“Such a good kitten.” And then those hands were back on Dean’s skin, touching his back, his thighs, moving to his belly. Dean found himself shivering in contentment, rolling to his back and curling up as Donahue kept up his steady touches, leaning back against the couch, one hand brushing over Dean’s neck, while the other pushed the remote and turned the television on.
“It’s alright kitten. I know this is all so strange for you. Don’t feel ashamed.”
It wasn’t until he said the word that Dean realized just how much shame was overtaking him. This was wrong, so, so wrong. This wasn’t him, and yet, he still moaned softly as Donahue’s fingertip circled his belly button and his breath whispered across Dean’s neck.
“I know you want to fight, but the implant won’t let you. “ His hand brushed back over Dean’s belly, down to his dick and balls. “You don’t think I would invent a collar that punishes and not include a reward setting?” For a moment his hand went away, as the man sat up and Dean desperately tried to think of what he should be doing, running away, escaping, before it was back and the sensations started up again. “There’s a good boy. Be good and you’ll feel good, be bad… I’d much rather reward you, my beautiful boy.”
Dean was crying by now. Trying to force himself to think, recognizing now that the feelings were being forced on him, that they weren’t his, even as they made his body move into the man’s hold.
“Sammy.” He finally forced out, feeling the shocks as he spoke. He wanted to tell the man he couldn’t stay, that his brother needed him. But all he got out was his brother’s name before the shocks jumped in and punished him. The man shushed him, and kept on touching him, the good feelings overwhelming the bad, but only just barely.
“It’s alright, I understand. Family’s important. But we’re your family now.” Dean wanted to speak up again, but the man placed his fingers in front of Dean’s lips, keeping him from doing so.
“Your brother’s already taken care of. I made sure that social services would pick him up the morning after we met. Sam is already in foster care.” Oh, god no, not that. Dean barely kept from crying. “I’ll make sure that he ends up in a good home, with kids his own age. With people who will make sure he has plenty of food on the table and a warm place to sleep. Your stay here will provide him with a college scholarship when he graduates high school and all the help he’ll need to get by in life. You can let go of your burdens, Beautiful, he’s not yours to worry about anymore. All that matters here is you and me, and how happy I can make you. “
But what about Dad? Dean wanted to ask, now close to sobbing.
“Sam’s safe, my beautiful boy, you’ll never have to worry about him, ever again. That unworthy excuse that calls himself your father will never get near either of you for the remainder of your life.“
Donahue pulled Dean closer on his lap, petting him as he allowed Dean to lose himself in emotions that Dean knew he would never normally allow to come free in front of anyone, let alone a stranger. Drugged, the food had to be drugged, either that or that ‘reward’ system was screwing with his head. But even as his mind kept shouting at him to stop, telling him he needed to get dressed and get out of there, not necessarily in that order, his body sank into Donahue’s embrace, making Dean cringe even more.
“Just let it happen, let yourself be happy. Let go of your burdens, Beautiful. Just be free.”
When Dean finally managed to force himself away from Donahue’s touch, it was almost morning. He had an urgent need to go to the toilet, and it overpowered even the feeling of Donahue’s touch against him. Dean shivered, crawling towards the door of the living room. He almost bumped into one of the older male pets as he entered through the catflap, giving Dean an idea of what he himself must look like. But worst of all was the way that seeing the other guy sent a terrifying notion down to his dick that almost made him want to crawl back up on the couch and beg Donahue for more of his ‘help’.
Dean tried to take a step back, but the man surrounded him, pushing his nose up against Dean’s shoulder, pushing him over and crawling on top of him. Dean wanted to scream, but he couldn’t get away. Donahue sat there, smiling as the large naked man loomed over Dean and held him down.
“Hey there Felix, this is Beautiful, he’ll be joining our happy family.” And then Donahue leaned back and did nothing while the man licked Dean’s chest and nipples, tasting him. Dean tried to push him off, but the man was too strong for him. Finally ‘Felix’, and somehow Dean doubted that was the guy’s real name, let go of him and Dean quickly rolled out of the way, watching as Felix climbed up on the couch with Donahue, pushing his face up against the bastard’s crotch.
Dean didn’t even consider watching what came after that, too busy blushing to think of how his own mouth had been there not too long ago. But he couldn’t ignore the moans coming out from behind him before he’d even left. He ran, wishing he could leave himself behind.
*****
The girl was in her litter box, when Dean got back to the room. Dean couldn’t even look at her and sat in the corner, desperately ignoring the food this time. He could still feel the after effects of whatever drug had been put in it. He also urgently, really urgently, needed to go to the toilet. He seriously doubted that any of the manor’s toilets would be left open for the ‘pets’ to stumble into them.
He stared back at the box, even with the chemicals in the sand, he could still smell it. It was only as he looked back that he noticed there was a light blinking at the bottom of the box. The girl had moved out of the box and over to some kind of raster on the floor in between the boxes. As soon as she squatted over it, he could hear water rushing up. It was like watching a car wreck, he couldn’t turn away from her as he noticed her move over to a pink towel that was attached to a rack beside the pink box. There was a similar kind of towel strung over the floor besides his own box, Dean touched it, it felt damp. She, she started rubbing her butt against the towel and Dean finally managed to look away. Oh God…He’d never imagined he could ever be this grossed out by a chick that hot.
Finally the urge became too much and he squatted down on the sand in the green box. He shivered, no matter how much he needed to go, the humiliation of sitting here in clear sight of anyone who came in was almost enough to stop anything from happening.
By the time he could finally let go, he was shivering and it took him a moment to come to his senses and step back before he coated his feet in his own waste. He stared at the raster for a moment, but figured it was better than nothing and it didn’t seem there was anything else that could be used for toilet paper in the room. He slowly crawled on top of the raster, not even sure how this was supposed to work. Was he just supposed to…
Suddenly a stream of water sprayed against his bottom, making it hard not to fall over. Didn’t these people know the meaning of gentle? When it finally stopped, Dean sank down on the floor, feeling bruised and battered by the water. He heard a noise and looked up. It was a woman, dressed in the same kind of uniform as the maid in the old man’s office.
“There’s a good boy.” She said, before patting him on the head, and all he could think of was that he was wet, and tired, and sick of all of this crap. Maybe he should just lie down and if he woke up again, all this would be some fucked up dream and Sammy would be next to him and telling him he shouldn’t eat cheese right before bed, because of some stupid article the brat read somewhere. Dean closed his eyes, but when he opened them again, he was still in the room, and the woman was still there, replacing the girl’s pink towel. Sitting there, naked, and miserable, Dean figured he might as well make it easy on the woman. Maybe if she thought he was good, he could win her over, get her on his side, maybe even charm her into letting him out of this insane asylum, so he could go save Sammy and get back to Dad.
He couldn’t even begin to imagine the level of embarrassment his father would have once he found out how Dean had screwed up everything for all of them.
Dean yelped as the woman petted his ass, pulled the towel off the rack and replaced it with a new one.
Dean cringed under her touch and skittered away from her, quickly finding the next box at his back.
“Shhh, it’s ok, everything’s fine. “ Dean glared at her. “No need for that, kitten. You have no idea how lucky you are that Mister Donahue is kind enough to take care of lost kids like you. “
Lost? He hadn’t been lost before the damned old man had grabbed him! At least, that’s what Dean wanted to shout at her, but his words turned into a screech as he stopped himself with the first warning shock. What came out sounded a lot like a growl.
“It’s ok, I won’t touch you if you don’t want me too. Nobody’s going to hurt you, just relax and enjoy yourself, and everything will be fine.” Right, no touching, just ogling. If he wasn’t already mostly naked, he was sure she’d be mentally undressing him.
Dean was still glaring at her as she checked the other boxes, then took a clean rag to check up on the food bowls and clean them, and then left the room as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. It wasn’t until another of the pets entered the room that Dean realized what had been off about it all. He hadn’t attacked the bitch.
Why hadn’t he attacked her?
When did he turn into a cringing flower that ran away from a fight instead of jumping right in the thick of it? He had to get out of here and fast, before he turned into even more of a pussy.
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Author:
liliaethArtist:
reapertownusaGenre: horror, slave fic,
Characters, Pairing(s): Dean/OC
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 28509
Kinks/Warnings: AU, underage (Dean is 14), slave fic, non-con, brainwashing, mind control, mention of castration, non consensual body modification, prostitution, child abuse
Summary: Donahue is your rich eccentric business man, with a love for cats, it’s just that his cats used to walk on two feet. One day when he decides to add another cat to his collection, his attention falls on Dean.
Betaed by the far too amazing
varkelton, who somehow managed to get through this entire big bang in less than a day...Dean woke up covered in darkness. The only light to hit his eyes came from emergency lighting inserted into the walls. Even if he could reach high enough to get to it, he wouldn't be able to pull anything out to use it as a weapon.
Three of the others were sleeping on their platforms, and this time Dean was careful not to wake them up. One still lifted his head when Dean landed on the floor, no matter how quiet Dean tried to move. Not that it seemed to matter, cause the boy just went back to sleep, his movements underlined with the soft sound of bells. Cold shivers ran down Dean’s spine, and this time he wasn’t afraid to admit that it wasn’t caused by a ghost.
Dean wondered if there was a way to ask any of them for a way out, write some kind of message out in sand, mouth a question to them, hoping they’d understand it, but from the way they acted, he didn't think they'd help, even if he could any of them to break the no talking rule. The way they just lay there, spread out like cats on a hot afternoon, was the scariest part of this place, almost as if they'd accepted their fate and were just making themselves comfortable, like there was nothing human left inside of them.
Just death echoes, crawling around and pretending to be cats.
Dean had seen a lot of horrifying things in his short life, but the empty look in his fellow captive’s eyes was worse than any ghost, monster or ghoul he’d met since his father started hunting.
His stomach growled, demanding to be filled. No matter how much the very idea of it disgusted him, he knew that the only food he'd find was the stuff in the pet feeders. Dad always said it was stupid to refuse food when you were taken, it would only make you weaker and remove yet another option for escape. Crawling over to the vile things, he found the green feeder front and center. He stuffed his revulsion down deep and, clinging to any small rebellion he could find, pressed on the blue feeder to the right. Fuck the old man and his green. Food came out and he reached in to grab some, but the collar gave a warning volt as soon as his hand reached into the bowl. He quickly pulled it back.After counting to a ten a hundred times or so his teeth finally stopped clattering, his body still hurting from far too many previous shocks in way too small a time. Breathing in and out, he tried again, this time with the green bowl. It made no difference. He didn’t understand, he just sat there, kneeling, shivering, he’d done what they wanted, hadn’t he? So why did they keep punishing him? He wanted to kick at the thing, slam his foot on it, if he’d been wearing his boots he probably would have. But if he was wearing his boots then he wouldn’t be here, now would he?
How were they expecting him to eat out of the thing, if he was punished when he tried to do so. He leaned over it, trying to find something, anything that would let him do so. Maybe there was some kind of button he was supposed to press? Ask for permission, or similar crap like that.
But when his face leaned over the brown pellets and smudge passing themselves off as food, he couldn't help but notice a feeling of wellbeing pass through his body, as if someone caressed every nerve ending in his body from the inside out.
He froze, then slowly pulled his face away… and it stopped. It was only when he leaned back over the bowl that it started up again.
Hell no, they couldn't expect him to...
His stomach rumbled again, he needed to eat, he kicked the feeder and then grabbed for his foot, he tried to grab it up, but the shocks started up again. Finally he forced his face into the bowl and as he pushed his tongue into the food, licking at the food in the bowl, that same feeling spread through his body, making him feel better and better. He worked at the food like a river did at a rock, taking away more of it as he figured out how to pick out the pieces of salmon amidst the veggies. He sat there on his knees, ass lifted up in the air as he had to bend over to get his face in the bowl. He didn't even think of trying to grab for the bowl of water, too desperate to get rid of the parched feeling in his mouth that he pressed his face in the water as if he was sinking into a bucket filled with apples at last week’s Halloween party at Melissa’s placeand tried to lick up as much of the water as he could, swallowing what he could get in between his lips and letting the rest of it sip on down from his cheeks. God, Melissa with the big boobs that looked two years older than she was and had every guy in school drooling over her. Just thinking about her made his balls ache. He wondered what Melissa would think of him now, her dad would probably think Dean deserved this after he found them kissing on the back porch.
Dean shivered, wishing he was facing Melissa’s father now, instead of the nutcases in this building. At least if the man had used his shotgun on Dean, all he’d be dealing with was the humiliation of getting the nuggets out while Sam laughed at his discomfort for the rest of his life.
What little he ate settled in his gut and he backed away from the bowls, staring at the sand boxes . They stood there, so obvious, he couldn’t ignore them no matter how much he wanted to. Even when he turned away, he could see their reflection in the windows. He had to find a way out, he just had to, because there was no way this was the rest of his life. Maybe at this time of night, he'd have more chance of finding an open door and a way out.
His balls itched, growing heavier with every passing second, but he did his best to ignore it. Now his damn dick bounced up against his legs and caused more than its share of trouble as he tried to move through the house. He’d never felt like this. Not even when he’d sat behind the Willard twins in the last town they’d been, with their boobs the size of the Hollywood sign and their asses so tight you could bounce a penny on them. It hurt, hurt so bad, he nearly fell over, but… stubbornly, he shoved his discomfort to the side forced himself to continue on.
With every second, his dick seemed to grow harder and bigger. He finally had to stop against a wall, desperate to rub his hands alongside his troublesome flesh, trying to get it to just soften up even a little bit. Trying to ease the need, he could hear his father’s voice in his head, “Ignore it”, Dad would say.” Put it in the back of your mind and move on, a Hunter can’t let his body decide what he should or shouldn’t do. But it was hard, so hard, and he wasn’t his Dad. He wasn’t good enough, wasn’t strong enough…
And even thinking of how disappointed his father would be wasn’t enough to make his dick get the message. What the hell was wrong with the thing?
Soft spurts of spunk slid out, dripping on the floor in front of him, leaving a trace as he tried to take a few more steps, but he was still hard, he tried another step, it didn't help. By now his entire body was starting to writhe with a need to come, and he curled up in a corner, backing up against the wall, his balls lying thick on the floor as his fingers rubbed at his dick over and over, desperate for relief.
What had they done to him?
Maybe he needed a cold shower, something, anything… he tried thinking of the math teacher back at school, her wrinkled skin, and yellowing teeth as she lit up another smoke. It was almost enough to make him throw up when he realized that thinking of her only made things worse.
It didn’t matter what face, what object, what horror he thought of, just thinking about anything, anything at all, seemed to increase the pressure in his balls. Soon he was panting, crawling out of his skin with need, sobbing for release. He didn’t even notice the shocks coursing through his body as he begged anyone to please help him. He had to be out of his mind, because if he wasn’t, then there was nothing to blame but himself for the fact that he hadn’t noticed the man standing there until he came up to Dean and lifted Dean’s face up to look at him.
*********
Dean looked up at him, still shivering with the aftereffects of the shocks. It seemed like it took forever, but the man just waited patiently. Dean opened his mouth, closed it with what little was left of his sanity, and finally begged the man with just his eyes to put an end to his agony, to please, please, stop it.
The man smiled somewhat kindly as his hand brushed over Dean’s back. His every touch coursed through Dean like a drug, turning the pain into ecstasy. This was nothing like what he had felt when he’d pushed his face into that bowl of food. It would be like comparing a flame to a forest fire.
“Just let go.” The man whispered, as his hand moved down to Dean’s ass, fingers pressing into his thighs, rubbing a circle over his hip.
Dean’s dick finally got the message, and he started coming all over his thighs and the floor.
“There, there, everything is fine,” the man said, finally moving to Dean’s dick, petting it gently before he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and started cleaning Dean up. “That’s a good boy.”
Dean wanted to beg him to stop, but his body wouldn’t let him, eagerly pushing back against the man’s touch as if already addicted to the sensations that came with the tension from his fingertips. The sounds coming out of him weren’t even intelligible as words, which was probably why the collar didn’t punish him for them.
“You’re so beautiful. The prettiest cat I’ve ever owned.” The man got up, and Dean was crawling behind him before he even fully realized what he was doing. He didn’t even understand why. His mind kept telling him to stop, to run. But all the man had to do was brush through Dean’s hair and over his cheek and he was back on track to following the stranger, the john, out through the hall, passing doors by doors until the man opened one and Dean watched him as he headed into the living room.
This was the guy that had drugged him, the guy that had… The old man called him Donahue. Dean wanted to call him the big creep.
Donahue sat down in the seat that looked so much like a nest and petted the fabric next to him and Dean found himself crawling into the room and jumping up as well.
If he was the cat, then Donahue was catnip and no matter how much Dean tried to stop himself, he couldn’t resist.
“Such a good kitten.” And then those hands were back on Dean’s skin, touching his back, his thighs, moving to his belly. Dean found himself shivering in contentment, rolling to his back and curling up as Donahue kept up his steady touches, leaning back against the couch, one hand brushing over Dean’s neck, while the other pushed the remote and turned the television on.
“It’s alright kitten. I know this is all so strange for you. Don’t feel ashamed.”
It wasn’t until he said the word that Dean realized just how much shame was overtaking him. This was wrong, so, so wrong. This wasn’t him, and yet, he still moaned softly as Donahue’s fingertip circled his belly button and his breath whispered across Dean’s neck.
“I know you want to fight, but the implant won’t let you. “ His hand brushed back over Dean’s belly, down to his dick and balls. “You don’t think I would invent a collar that punishes and not include a reward setting?” For a moment his hand went away, as the man sat up and Dean desperately tried to think of what he should be doing, running away, escaping, before it was back and the sensations started up again. “There’s a good boy. Be good and you’ll feel good, be bad… I’d much rather reward you, my beautiful boy.”
Dean was crying by now. Trying to force himself to think, recognizing now that the feelings were being forced on him, that they weren’t his, even as they made his body move into the man’s hold.
“Sammy.” He finally forced out, feeling the shocks as he spoke. He wanted to tell the man he couldn’t stay, that his brother needed him. But all he got out was his brother’s name before the shocks jumped in and punished him. The man shushed him, and kept on touching him, the good feelings overwhelming the bad, but only just barely.
“It’s alright, I understand. Family’s important. But we’re your family now.” Dean wanted to speak up again, but the man placed his fingers in front of Dean’s lips, keeping him from doing so.
“Your brother’s already taken care of. I made sure that social services would pick him up the morning after we met. Sam is already in foster care.” Oh, god no, not that. Dean barely kept from crying. “I’ll make sure that he ends up in a good home, with kids his own age. With people who will make sure he has plenty of food on the table and a warm place to sleep. Your stay here will provide him with a college scholarship when he graduates high school and all the help he’ll need to get by in life. You can let go of your burdens, Beautiful, he’s not yours to worry about anymore. All that matters here is you and me, and how happy I can make you. “
But what about Dad? Dean wanted to ask, now close to sobbing.
“Sam’s safe, my beautiful boy, you’ll never have to worry about him, ever again. That unworthy excuse that calls himself your father will never get near either of you for the remainder of your life.“
Donahue pulled Dean closer on his lap, petting him as he allowed Dean to lose himself in emotions that Dean knew he would never normally allow to come free in front of anyone, let alone a stranger. Drugged, the food had to be drugged, either that or that ‘reward’ system was screwing with his head. But even as his mind kept shouting at him to stop, telling him he needed to get dressed and get out of there, not necessarily in that order, his body sank into Donahue’s embrace, making Dean cringe even more.
“Just let it happen, let yourself be happy. Let go of your burdens, Beautiful. Just be free.”
When Dean finally managed to force himself away from Donahue’s touch, it was almost morning. He had an urgent need to go to the toilet, and it overpowered even the feeling of Donahue’s touch against him. Dean shivered, crawling towards the door of the living room. He almost bumped into one of the older male pets as he entered through the catflap, giving Dean an idea of what he himself must look like. But worst of all was the way that seeing the other guy sent a terrifying notion down to his dick that almost made him want to crawl back up on the couch and beg Donahue for more of his ‘help’.
Dean tried to take a step back, but the man surrounded him, pushing his nose up against Dean’s shoulder, pushing him over and crawling on top of him. Dean wanted to scream, but he couldn’t get away. Donahue sat there, smiling as the large naked man loomed over Dean and held him down.
“Hey there Felix, this is Beautiful, he’ll be joining our happy family.” And then Donahue leaned back and did nothing while the man licked Dean’s chest and nipples, tasting him. Dean tried to push him off, but the man was too strong for him. Finally ‘Felix’, and somehow Dean doubted that was the guy’s real name, let go of him and Dean quickly rolled out of the way, watching as Felix climbed up on the couch with Donahue, pushing his face up against the bastard’s crotch.
Dean didn’t even consider watching what came after that, too busy blushing to think of how his own mouth had been there not too long ago. But he couldn’t ignore the moans coming out from behind him before he’d even left. He ran, wishing he could leave himself behind.
*****
The girl was in her litter box, when Dean got back to the room. Dean couldn’t even look at her and sat in the corner, desperately ignoring the food this time. He could still feel the after effects of whatever drug had been put in it. He also urgently, really urgently, needed to go to the toilet. He seriously doubted that any of the manor’s toilets would be left open for the ‘pets’ to stumble into them.
He stared back at the box, even with the chemicals in the sand, he could still smell it. It was only as he looked back that he noticed there was a light blinking at the bottom of the box. The girl had moved out of the box and over to some kind of raster on the floor in between the boxes. As soon as she squatted over it, he could hear water rushing up. It was like watching a car wreck, he couldn’t turn away from her as he noticed her move over to a pink towel that was attached to a rack beside the pink box. There was a similar kind of towel strung over the floor besides his own box, Dean touched it, it felt damp. She, she started rubbing her butt against the towel and Dean finally managed to look away. Oh God…He’d never imagined he could ever be this grossed out by a chick that hot.
Finally the urge became too much and he squatted down on the sand in the green box. He shivered, no matter how much he needed to go, the humiliation of sitting here in clear sight of anyone who came in was almost enough to stop anything from happening.
By the time he could finally let go, he was shivering and it took him a moment to come to his senses and step back before he coated his feet in his own waste. He stared at the raster for a moment, but figured it was better than nothing and it didn’t seem there was anything else that could be used for toilet paper in the room. He slowly crawled on top of the raster, not even sure how this was supposed to work. Was he just supposed to…
Suddenly a stream of water sprayed against his bottom, making it hard not to fall over. Didn’t these people know the meaning of gentle? When it finally stopped, Dean sank down on the floor, feeling bruised and battered by the water. He heard a noise and looked up. It was a woman, dressed in the same kind of uniform as the maid in the old man’s office.
“There’s a good boy.” She said, before patting him on the head, and all he could think of was that he was wet, and tired, and sick of all of this crap. Maybe he should just lie down and if he woke up again, all this would be some fucked up dream and Sammy would be next to him and telling him he shouldn’t eat cheese right before bed, because of some stupid article the brat read somewhere. Dean closed his eyes, but when he opened them again, he was still in the room, and the woman was still there, replacing the girl’s pink towel. Sitting there, naked, and miserable, Dean figured he might as well make it easy on the woman. Maybe if she thought he was good, he could win her over, get her on his side, maybe even charm her into letting him out of this insane asylum, so he could go save Sammy and get back to Dad.
He couldn’t even begin to imagine the level of embarrassment his father would have once he found out how Dean had screwed up everything for all of them.
Dean yelped as the woman petted his ass, pulled the towel off the rack and replaced it with a new one.
Dean cringed under her touch and skittered away from her, quickly finding the next box at his back.
“Shhh, it’s ok, everything’s fine. “ Dean glared at her. “No need for that, kitten. You have no idea how lucky you are that Mister Donahue is kind enough to take care of lost kids like you. “
Lost? He hadn’t been lost before the damned old man had grabbed him! At least, that’s what Dean wanted to shout at her, but his words turned into a screech as he stopped himself with the first warning shock. What came out sounded a lot like a growl.
“It’s ok, I won’t touch you if you don’t want me too. Nobody’s going to hurt you, just relax and enjoy yourself, and everything will be fine.” Right, no touching, just ogling. If he wasn’t already mostly naked, he was sure she’d be mentally undressing him.
Dean was still glaring at her as she checked the other boxes, then took a clean rag to check up on the food bowls and clean them, and then left the room as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. It wasn’t until another of the pets entered the room that Dean realized what had been off about it all. He hadn’t attacked the bitch.
Why hadn’t he attacked her?
When did he turn into a cringing flower that ran away from a fight instead of jumping right in the thick of it? He had to get out of here and fast, before he turned into even more of a pussy.
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