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See, that’s what the app is perfect for.

Sounds perfect Wahhhh, I don’t wanna

Demesne 2

Changed Wyatt’s name to Cosmo. Wyatt, I discovered, is the name of my best friend’s 2-year-old nephew. Which felt weird.

“Sadly, yes. Just me. ” replied Roddie. His voice was languid and morose. The man’s elocution lessons shone through each word he spoke. The result of prep schools and Princeton. “But great families are like ancient civilizations, they wither and die.”

Listening, Cosmo bit his lower lip. 

In his mind he pictured the weight of the house bearing down on Roddie: the last of a grand line, tasked with carrying on the legacy of the Usher family yet conflicted by his own sexual preferences. Though Roddie was in his middling twenties, Cosmo suddenly saw him as ancient.

He wanted to hug him and coo that things would get better (and then hump his leg frantically). 

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Demesne 1

“You got this whole place to yourself?” Cosmo asked, eyes wide in wonder as he stepped into the main hall. He felt like he ought to remove his hat. Instead he just adjusted the brim of the ball-cap, pulling it back, high on his head, and grinned sheepishly.

When he knocked at the massive entryway he expected a servant to answer. Someone in coattails who’d fallen off a Downton Abbey episode. He felt kind of silly thinking it, here in the middle of Cold Spring.

It was a big house, no doubt. But Cosmo saw the grounds were overgrown. The windows in need of washing. Even the antique furniture on the landing looked in need of a good dusting.

Guess even the 1% had to fall on hard times too.

Still, his young mind was instantly aroused by the thought of cleaning up the place in a revealing maid outfit. Or on hands and knees scrubbing the wooden floors with a toothbrush in his mouth, a raging erection between his legs. Much like the raging erection he’d tucked under the waistband of his boy briefs while walking up the drive.

This was going to be so cool.

Fuck I wanna draw Cosmo. Damn you Windows and your poopy Pro.
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Inhuman Society - Part 4

“Don’t say it to me. Speak to them.” The catcher, still holding tightly to Nic’s hair turned the boy’s face toward the caged nekos.

They looked at him with a mix of disgust and pity. It was obvious that he was “bribing” the man to get out of his capture. It was also obvious that they all disapproved.

Apparently standards were something street neko had?

Nic whined with each continuing thrust as the man fucked him. He was substantially larger than Nic. Not that Nic had not been around before. But it was always a jarring experience.

He felt his own cock stiffen at the stimulation. An animal reaction to the stress and fear of the moment.

“I’m a whore.” Nic squeaked between ragged breathes, his face burned brightly with shame. It was a humiliating act. But it was also going to buy him is freedom.

“You are.” Someone watching said.

The man finished up quickly, filling Nic with a hot spray of cum that left the inside of his legs sticky.

The neko lay on the van bed still breathing heavily, his own erection slowly dwindling. He looked up expectantly as the catcher zipped up.

“Not bad.” He critiqued smugly. “But definitely not the best.”

Nic already saw the direction this conversation was going. Leaving the ruins of his clothes behind, the youth scampered to his feet and dived for the street and away from the van. 

His escape was readily met with the slam of the rear door in his face. Stunned, he staggered in backward to the ground again. The other door closed, sealing him in.

“Wha … wha?!” He demanded to no one in particular. “You said you’d let me go!” Nic pounded on the back door - a solid, windowless slab of metal. “Let me go!”

Somewhere behind him another neko spoke. “Not only a slut, but a dumb slut…”

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Inhumane Society - Part 2

The van waited ominously around the corner. Rust-riddled, the vehicle’s paint had the look of whatever the automobile equivalent of leprosy was. The smell of fear, pain, and urine emanated from the vehicle and set Nic’s ears back against his head tensely.

The catcher definitely wasn’t a member of Animal Services. That much was apparent from his rundown van. He had to be a free-lancer, catching nekos on his own and selling them to X-Corp at a profit.

Nic gulped and pawed at the man’s side. The catcher bore the neko under one arm, flexing his bicep to keep the youth pinned against his torso. At a distance, the pair of them may have looked like a small child being carried by his father, rather than a fully-grown neko being man-handled like luggage.

Neko stood a full two feet shorter than most humans. Save for a few very spoiled house nekos, they were lean and fit. Street nekos moreso from a life on the run, scrounging for scraps, and chill nights.

Nic neared a full panic as they approached the vehicle. He could hear plaintive voices calling out from within.

“Let us go!” “Let me go!” “My family!” “I don’t want to go! I’m not hurting anyone!”

The catcher smirked.

There had to be a way to get out of this. Something that Nic had to offer that the other’s he’d capture did not. There was one thing. The one thing that Nic used to get by where most other nekos did not.

“I can make you feel good.” He mewled. “Let me go and I’ll be the best lay you’ve ever had.”

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Inhumane Society - Part 1

The bag of food was obviously a trap. 

It was too perfect. Nic could smell it through the packaging, fresh and unspoiled. In the world of dumpster diving it was rare that such a meal manifest itself. The other strays on the street would long ago have looted it.

One of his ears twitched first up the street and then down. Aside from the usual late night city noise, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He inched forward on the tips of his toes, bare feet pressed against cold concrete.

Food was scarce. His late night work had been spartan recently. “Animal Services” had stepped up patrols in the area and he was a prime target. Staying out of site and out of mind was how he survived.

Another step forward. His tail was stiff and bristled with anticipation. Froze in place, waiting for the kill.

And then the pounce. Nic sprinted forward towards the open trash bin. The over-sized hoodie he wore shifted awkwardly, its broken zipper ensuring that one or the other of his shoulders was exposed.

The dumpster was within reach when he confirmed that it was a trap. Stupid move on his part. But food was scarce.

Nic mewled loudly and tried to change direction in mid air.

Physics doesn’t work that way.

A man, hidden behind piles of waste and trash bags, loomed up in front of him, reaching out to catch the neko by the leg. The boy yelped and tried to squirm away.

In his flailing he fell further out of the hand-me-down hoodie. It was obviously intended for someone larger than the small, lean neko. He wore a skimpy pair of underwear and little else beneath it. His skin was pale and smooth.

“Gotcha, ya lil’ beastie.” The man leered. “They said somethin’ was raidin’ their trash cans. Didn’t expect a pretty Nictie like you.”

“Lemme go!” Nic hissed, baring his teeth and trying to bite.

The blow that followed was swift and left Nic seeing star. 

“Shut it. Behave and I might let you get to Processing with a few less bruises…”

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Mile Marker 10

A long-haul trucker in the lane next to them watched the whole thing. Several loud blares from his horn sounded his approval, or mockery. Tate didn’t know which. He simply winced and tried to stare a hole through the floor of the convertible.

Tate hugged his knees to his chest in hopes of trying to maintain some decency. His pale white skin shone with sweat and tanning lotion in the afternoon sun. He clothes, shoes, and socks littered the floor of the passenger’s seat.

Now he knew why Sir had shaved him the evening before. And applied sunscreen before they left on the roadtrip. How far was the beach? He watched the side of the road frantically for road signs.

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Terribly Tiny Places

“Psst. Hey. Hey, gap-tooth!”

Tilly awoke with a start and flailed about in his pillow pile, eyes wide but out of focus. The large bell on his collar chimed. The youth frantically fumbled to silence it.

A chuckle came from outside the bars to his home and Tilly blushed with shame. It was still dark in the Room outside. He didn’t know exactly who was out there - any number of folk from communities in the Walls, in the Floors, Outside. Word travelled, he was famous. Everyone wanted to see him.

“Whada they got ya wearing this time?”

Well, everyone wanted to see what he was wearing and then jeer at him.

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A Desk Job - Chapter 4, Part 4

This was not the first day that Fenton expected. It was worse than anything he could have imagined. He felt so low. Each of Exham’s words stung with their truth and the smug tone of his voice. 

He really had no choice.

Fenton lowered himself down onto all fours, his face burning with shame, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. He knew Mr Exham was looking up from his desk now. The youth could feel the smirk on the man’s face, the knowledge of his power over Fenton. For a moment he fumbled with the laces on his shoes before flipping them awkwardly off, leaving them splayed on the ground.

Slowly Fenton inched his way over to the great black wood desk. It loomed massively over him, as did its occupant. Unsure of what to do now, Fenton just remained there, glancing up.

He wanted to cry. Just bury his face in his hands and sob. Fenton knew his face was red and his features contorted as he fought back the tears trickling down his cheeks.

“Good boy.” Mister Exham said. Fenton expected it to sound sarcastic but the man seemed sincere in his praise. Fenton couldn’t speak, only sniffle loudly as he battled the runny-nose that accompanied heavy crying.

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A Desk Job - Chapter 4, Part 3

Fenton didn’t budge. His mouth hung gaping like a stunned fish.

“W…wha?” Was the best he could manage. That fucking piece of shit. Fenton’s thoughts blurred. Was this all a power trip? Why was he hammering this in. Fenton already felt like nothing for coming back to this job. How could he get any lower?

“You know what I said.”

“I…”

“You don’t have a job until you sign the papers. You don’t sign the papers until you are over here, beside my desk, on hands and knees like the little animal you are.”

Fenton squeaked. It was not dignified. He could not believe what he was hearing. He was agog. The teen could not form a cohesive sentence. He sputtered and stuttered.

“I … you …” He slouched. “You … you can’t treat people like this! I’m leaving. I’ll find another job.”

Exham didn’t look up from the paperwork he was sorting through (a habit that was really grating on Fenton’s already split nerves). “No you won’t. You’re going to stay right here.

"I know you, Fenton Brenton. I know your family’s situation. I know why you came back. I also know that you’re the one I want for this job.

"I’m paying you excessively for your self-respect, your dignity, and your consent. You won’t get a better offer for any of those. You’re untalented, unskilled, and unremarkable. You need this job.

"Now remove your shoes, get down on your hands and knees, and crawl over here, boy.”

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A Desk Job - Chapter 4, Part 2

Mister Exham’s office did not appear any different than it did during Fenton’s last visit.

The youth closed the great wooden doors of the office behind himself, trying not to make a sound. The room was empty save for a semi circle of chairs in front of a large, dark wood desk. Nobody sat behind it.

At the back was a large paneled window with long dark drapes framing it on either side. The view outside the glass was two stories above busy Brooks Avenue. 

The walls were lined with the kind of abstract painting that was usually associated with corporate offices. Inoffensive shapes and colors mounted on thick white card and framed very mutely.

Fenton peered quizzically at one, scrunching his nose so his glasses pressed back against his face. When he suddenly became aware of someone behind himself, Fenton’s scream left him blushing and feeling stupid.

Mister Exham stood in the corner of the room, regarding him with a raised eyebrow.

“Fenton.” He nodded. “I’m not surprised you came back.”

Fenton cast his eyes down and tried to think of a response. There wasn’t any that was meaningful so he went with the obligatory. “Its a good fit for me and I’m eager work.”

The long pause that followed made Fenton instantly self conscious again. Had he said something wrong?

“You came crawling back, didn’t you. You had no other option.”

Fenton’s ears burned red and he fidgeted with his hands, glancing up slightly at the man, uncertain of what he expected in response. The asshole was rubbing this in his face.

“I’m … grateful for the work and ready to get started.”

“Then crawl over here and sign the job offer.” Exham motioned to his desk and briskly walked over to it.

It only took a single step before Fenton stopped in his tracks. Exham, without looking up from his desk, wagged a finger and pointed at the ground. “I did say crawl.”

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