whumpinthepot - Tumblr blog

whumpinthepot · 15 hours

Text

Companion De Trop

Package

Content: Morally dubious caretaker, Mentions of stalking, Chronically ill caretaker, Pet whump, BBU universe, it/its used to dehumanise.

Word Count: 1.9k

Oh, what the fuck.

No, no, like — what the actual fuck.

Avery was shell-shocked, standing in the rain, clothes becoming soaking as he stared wide-eyed at the wooden box in front of him. His breath fogged as he approached, hand grazing over the smoothed surface and feeling the dips and crevices of the burnt-on symbol. It wasn’t uncommon for WRU boxes to be on campus, though usually they were cardboard boxes; things for peoples’ pets that they already had before attending the college. Items and commodities that were given as some sort of monthly subscription or a bonus for giving the company good rep or something.

Not a wooden box settled right on his doorstep, though not alien to him, it was… unheard of people getting a pet during college. Responsibility and all that.

Especially since he hadn’t even ordered a pet, much less thought of getting one while he’s still taking classes for his Biomedical Engineering major. He was already staying up late some nights studying, he certainly didn’t have enough time to pay attention to a pet.

…Still, it’s cold out here. And his joints are starting to scream at him.

Heaving a sigh, the college student stepped around the box, taking out his keys with a jingling tune. Pushing the door open, he turned to the box, finally taking notice of the plastic-covered set of papers on top. At least they thought about the weather beforehand.

Man, he’s gonna hurt after dragging this in. Lamenting about his later pain, he clutched the two corners and began pulling, grinding down on his teeth in his strain to at least get it past the doorway. He was never the strongest person, and with his chronic illness, it made it all the more tough on him. His hands slipped, and he landed with a heavy thud on his back, staring up at the ceiling. After a moment of contemplating his life, he sat back up, carding his hand through hair swirling with several shades of reds and browns. Alright, he’s gotten it inside.

Using the box as a brace, he stood, growling under his breath at the sharp shooting of pain from his left leg up into his lower back. He closed the door against the increasing winds, locking it behind him as he turned to the box and hovered over the paperwork.

…Well, it wasn’t a mistake; this box was clearly addressed to him. Full name and all. He hummed confusedly, tearing the package from the top and scanning it over before he took it out of the plastic. It seemed to be all up-to-date, the box was shipped out three days ago, express shipping and all paid for, not a penny taken from him. He let out a sigh, shoulders sagging and dropping the plastic bag and paperwork on the floor beside the box.

“Alright, guess I gotta go get my box…” He mumbled to himself, turning on his heel to walk to his room. It took a moment of rifling through his desk before he uncovered the suitcase-like toolset. And in a second-moment thought, he turned towards his kitchen, opening the fridge. He’s heard of boxies being dehydrated, and he didn’t want to neglect the poor thing.

The box remained the same as he left it when he returned, setting down the water and toolset as he slowly got onto folded knees. As his knee braces pressed into the carpet, he winced at the aching in his knees as he crouched over the box in order to look over the screws — looks like they were Phillip's-head. It took a few minutes of attempting to get the correctly-sized attachment before he could unscrew the top. Once again he winced as he stood, placing the screwdriver to the side and sliding the top off with a thud.

Within the box was a pet curled up, wearing a thin pair of shorts and a white tank top. Its black hair looked to be unwashed and a bit matted, its pale skin having a few scars; likely from its time during training. Avery hummed worriedly, he had always worried about how pets were treated when they were training or being refurbished. He knew that pain was one of the ways they learned but, well, still. It made him feel bad.

It took him for a moment before he realized the pet hadn’t moved, blinking rapidly.

“Oh, uh, shoot. You can sit up, do it slowly though, I don’t want you to get dizzy.” He ordered, watching as the pet slowly sat up, its hazel-green eyes meeting his own making his blood turn to ice.

“...No.” He recoiled, slowly standing up. “No, no, no this has — this can’t be real.” He muttered. The pet’s — no, Kaine’s eyes widened both in fear and confusion. He hadn’t seen this asshole in, what, months? But, well, it made sense. He’d suddenly disappeared quite a few months back, and it usually took a long time to train pets, but…

“God, this has to be some kind of sick joke.” Avery practically spit, continuing to back up. This guy had stalked him for, what, almost a year? He thought he had gotten rid of him when he disappeared, but, well, here was the reason he was gone. He was given to WRU and then given to him as a pet. Who would do such a thing? Why?

Avery suddenly felt hot, unbalanced and dizzy, leaning against the wall as his vision fuzzed. He wasn’t unused to his stress-induced syncopes, but usually he would be sitting down if he felt his heart speeding up. He struggled to find his grip for a moment before leaning on the wall and gently sliding down to the floor. Good, okay, he wouldn’t hurt himself this way. He allowed his head to drop onto his knees as his consciousness gave out, the world draining to black.

Black and numb, nothing to bother him. No pain, no staring eyes, no judgement… Just… darkness.

…When he came-to, something cool was on his head, and he was laying on the floor. Staring at the ceiling, he gathered himself, clearing his throat. How did he get here? Hadn’t he fainted against the wall? Reaching up, the coolness on his forehead revealed to be a wet washrag. He sat up slowly, looking around.

The pet — god, he’s a pet now — was kneeling next to him now, head touching the ground. There wasn’t anyone else around… had he — it? — done this? Why did he position him on the floor? Was this some sort of punishment for him or Kaine? God, there were so many questions he had, and too little answers. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he resisted a shiver as he watched the pet stay stock still. He glanced behind it and noticed the water bottle had gone untouched, and took in a breath.

“Um, you can… you can sit up.” He said, watching as the other followed as he ordered. He looked fairly different since Avery last saw him, but he’d recognize the eyes that stared at him from afar for months on end anywhere, not to mention the scar under his eye matched the one he had gotten when Lych had socked him.

Sure, he was so much thinner than he was before, and there were several new scars across his skin, his eyes slightly sunken in and cheeks hollow from dehydration and likely starvation. His eyes showed no recognition, just obedience, reverence and… the slightest look of fear. Even despite this, Avery couldn’t help the sickly feeling in his stomach that settled there as he looked at the other. Taking in a breath, he sighed. This… wasn’t ideal, but Kaine wasn’t, well, Kaine now. Sure, he still felt uncomfortable around him, but he likely didn’t remember what he did. He’d heard of the “Drip”, a drug cocktail they made to have the pets forget their pasts as humans, and, well, the other’s eyes didn’t hold a drop of recognition.

“Stay here.” Slowly, Avery stood, making sure he didn’t swim with dizziness again. Thankfully, he didn’t, walking past the pet and grabbing the water bottle he had gotten. It was still cold, so he likely wasn’t out for long. That was good.

He returned to the pet, opening the bottle and looking up at it.

“Do you think you could drink this by yourself?” He asked, to which it gave a timid nod. Passing the water to the pet, he watched as it carefully drank. Once the plastic bottle was empty, he held his hand out for the bottle and then capped it, sitting in front of the pet cross-legged.

“Can you speak?”

The pet worked its mouth slowly, clearing its throat before speaking.

“Y-Yes, Master… this pet can speak.” Avery ignored the way his skin crawled at the label, gripping the legs of his pants for a moment before relaxing. It’s just what they have the pets call humans, it’s no big deal, it’s no big deal…

“Cool.” Taking a deep breath, he sighed, looking the pet over. “What’s your number?”

The pet’s spine straightened, holding out its wrist for Avery to see.

“637826, Designated Combination Domestic and Companion.” Avery nodded as it responded, glancing over the barcode tattooed on his wrist. Subconsciously, his shoulders slumped, thank fucking god it wasn’t a Romantic. He wouldn’t be sure what to do with it if it was.

“Okay, well, for now, until we find you a name that suits you, we’ll call you ‘826’ for now. That okay?” Avery asked, to which 826 nodded. Good, maybe this would go better than he thought. In another thought, he spoke again. “And — uh, don't call me Master,” It was weird to him to be called that by someone who used to practically obsess over him. Made his skin crawl. “call me ‘Sir’ or ‘Sir Avery’. Got that?”

There was a flicker of confusion, 826 slightly tilted its head before straightening back up. Avery watched its throat work as it swallowed nervously, likely thinking that the questioning movement would be seen as disobedience. The pet nodded, taking in a slow, shuddering breath.

“Yes, M —” A flinch. “S-Sir.”

“You're fine.” He reassured it, shifting about on his place on the floor before looking at the pet; he's a pet now, not a person. It'd take a while for that to sink in, honestly… “Think you could help me up?”

“Yes, Sir.” It responded, following the outstretched arm with a breath of hesitancy before the action seemed to click in the pet's mind. Crouching down, it let his arm rest on its shoulders as he moved to rest on his knees. Slowly, surely, he brought his feet beneath him, and came to a stand. His joints still ached, so he nudged his head towards the well-worn couch in the center of the living space.

“Set me down over there.” His voice was dredged in tiredness, the kind he felt down in his bones. What he wouldn’t do for this day to start over, so he could avoid this happening. How would he have avoided this? …He isn’t exactly sure, but, well. Here he was.

He sighed heavily as he settled into the couch, shifting about to get into an awkward position that helped ease the pain off his knees. He leaned against the arm of the couch, legs bent and just barely stretched all the way out. He flicked his hand at the bag of papers he cast aside.

“Grab those for me.”

—

@whumpinthepot wanted to be tagged! Here you are! I actually plan on turning this into another series so <:3c

#very cool!!#based on my prompt #this is pre much what I had in mind this was awesome to read #very well written

18 notes · View notes