Calvin could smell the woman even before he entered the room. She was nervous. It wasn't completely unexpected, but the fear was leaking from her. She had to be new. He hated those. It was hard enough for an experienced human to handle him. A first-timer wasn't nearly stretched enough. She would tear, scream, but demand he keep going. He didn't want that. He couldn't stand the idea of how painful it was. For both of them.
He halted at the door, not wanting to go in.
"Move, pretty boy," the handler snarled. Calvin could feel his own blood boil at the order. He was used to "pet names" from the handlers, owners, masters and mistresses. It was the way he said it. He felt the indignity of it all hit him, but he could do nothing truly in response. He wore no handcuffs, no restraints, but his collar was very much a reminder that he had no rights.
"I need to speak to my owner," he mumbled.
"I said to move," the handler demanded, taking a moment to lift up his control device. He waved it from side to side tauntingly, more than a hint of warning in the motion. "I don't want to discipline you right now. That one in there is about to get married. She wants to try one of you 'fore she does."
"She's scared," Calvin tried. He could smell her excitement as well. It was practically leaking off of her in waves. That didn't remove the fear that he would, in fact, rip her open if he tried to mount her. "I don't want to hurt her."
The handler let his face turn into a perfect sneer. He moved closer to Calvin, his rancid breath forcing him to look away. He smelled like tobacco and cinnamon, a combination he often encountered among the human handlers. Some sort of gum they chewed was supposed to mask the smell of their foul habit. Unfortunately, it made it somehow more potent, more disgusting.
"You can't hurt her, pretty boy." The man slapped the back of Calvin's head. It was no more impact than a fly landing, but the indignity still stung. "You better handle it really careful."
"Let her be with someone else. Anyone else. I'm too big for her."
The man lifted his finger to one of the buttons and the shock went through Calvin hard enough to bring him to his knees. He felt his spine tingle with burning pain, his fingers and toes curled, and drool began to form near the corners of his mouth. Every pain sensor in his body screamed out in agony, his stomach recoiling with the urge to vomit. It was an explosion of pure torment, his heart even jumping just a bit. He couldn't breathe for a very long time, his lungs seizing up, his nervous system completely taxed by the jolt.
"I told ya that I didn't want to do that." The handler knelt down and took a moment to pet Calvin along the top of his head. His orange, gold, and black hair was long enough to reach his shoulders so it fell into his face. Casually, the handler pushed it out of his face. "The master doesn't like me to discipline you if I can help it. Especially not when there's credits on the line."
Calvin's stomach began to settle and he gasped as his lungs finally began to work. The air burned, felt electrified and akin to molten lava, but at least he could breathe again. His whole body ached and throbbed, but the pain was over for the time being. That was always a good thing.
"If I fuck her, I'll hurt her," Calvin tried again. "I'm too big."
"You sure do have a mighty high opinion of yourself, pretty boy." He reached out and pulled Calvin's face up. His eyes were a dirty, muddy brown, bloodshot and looked aged beyond his years. His hair was greasy, unkempt, also somehow resembling mud. He looked dirty. That was the best way to describe him. Dirty. "You're going to go in there and give that girlie a good time. If you don't, you're going to regret it." He waved the controller around for a few seconds to enforce the statement. "We understand one another."
Calvin blinked his orange eyes. He wanted to say no, to tell him to fuck off or something else along those lines, but he couldn't. He could try to refuse. The pain was bad, but it was nothing compared to the agony of actually hurting a human. The chip that rested in his brain, the collar around his neck, reinforced the rules very clearly. What scared him was the fact that they had other methods to control him.
He inhaled roughly.
"Fine," he mumbled.
"Fine, what?" the handler asked.
