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.
"Fine, sir." Using any sort of honorific felt disgraceful. He truly had no honor, no value as a person. In fact, he was probably a fine example of what a human was. A waste. This man deserved no respect. If he were not human, Calvin would have begged for the opportunity to fight him in the pits. He had never been used to fight, his owners finding his talents rested elsewhere, but he would have loved the opportunity to hurt this very small, very wicked man.
The man's face seemed to drip pure evil. He rared back, punching Calvin as hard as he could. He felt his mouth fill with blood instantly, his lip slightly torn by the impact. Calvin knew better than to spit. Their blood was treated as if it were diseased, dirty. Their cum, their saliva, the humans didn't mind that, but if their blood got near them, it was a reason for alarm. That simply showed how ignorant that they were. He swallowed, the taste of warm metal lingering on his tongue.
"You need to learn your place here. Your master ain't owned you long. You're hardly broken in." He looked at him with a wicked sneer. "Why don't I bring one of those young females out here? Would you like that? You want me to break one of the new ones in while you watch? What'd they name that new one? Courtney?" He laughed softly. "Awful funny how they give you things human names. Spot or Sassy probably would have been good for her."
Calvin couldn't fight to growl that built in his throat. He felt his pupils change, his fingernails begin to sharpen. He was still on his knees and his hands were pressed against the floor. The extension of his nails, his claws, started to mark the floor, holes springing up under him.
"That's what I thought." He leaned forward, obviously not afraid of Calvin in the least. "I tell you what. You act right, you give her a good time and learn a little respect, and I'll make damn sure none of the young ones get touched. Not violently anyway. Okay?"
Calvin tried to relax. He truly did. He wanted to destroy that man, to rip him to shreds. He couldn't. He knew that. The minute he touched that sniveling bastard, the discipline chip and the collar would work to subdue him, to cripple him, until he could be executed or sold as scrap. He didn't care about that. He would welcome death when it came. It beat a life of servitude at the hands of men. But if he went away, they wouldn't have him as a distraction. The guards hated him, envied him. Calvin knew by the way that they talked, the way that they walked, that they despised him with every ounce of their being. No woman ever left him unsatisfied. Human women begged for him, paid top dollar, because he could please them in ways that no human could ever dream. Their jealousy, their envy, left their fury on a constant simmer, always threatening to boil over. Calvin didn't mind. He was glad that they hated him. It would protect the females. They needed someone to act as a lightning rod. He could do that. As long as he stayed alive.
"The young ones are off limits," Calvin grumbled, trying to retract his claws. "You know that. There are laws."
The man hit Calvin again. "You don't preach the law at me, Shifter. That little Courtney bitch came off of hold yesterday." He winked at Calvin. "Didn't she tell you that it was her birthday? The boss has got a bidding war going on right now over who gets the right to pop her."
Calvin felt the rage boil up again. He was going to shift. He would rip his clothes in the process. He couldn't hurt this man. He knew that. He physically was incapable of doing anything but making things worse. He had to think of something. Anything.
"Please," Calvin whispered. "You don't..."
