Chapter Text
Today starts like every other day for Dream. He stretches awake in his bed, dressed only in a thin, tiny little nightie, and moans at the ache deep in his cunt. One of these days he’ll start wearing a dildo to bed, today is not that day. As lovely as they are, stretching him out and making him feel whole, it isn’t exactly comfortable to sleep with eight to ten inches of rubber in you.
Naturally the first thing he does every morning is pick out a dildo. There’s a lot of things to consider. Length, width, shape, whether it can buzz or not, if it has ridges or spines or any other number of extra features. Color is also fairly important.
Sometimes, Dream likes to make it match his outfit, though his lord doesn’t fuck him enough to notice. Dream pouts, eying up his collection. His lord is so hard to tempt. Then again, who is Dream to think he deserves to bed a god?
A nice green one will do, a forest-y color towards the base ending in a vibrant yellow, marked with thin ridges in a way that occasionally makes Dream giggle. Really, it reminds him of a bendy straw. A very nice, long, thick bendy straw that brushes against the back of his cunt so nicely.
Not into his womb of course. The most important lesson he learned when his god fucked him is that his cervix and womb belong only to his lord. Using a dildo to try and replicate such a thing is… cruel- heretical, even.
Dream holds the dildo in his hand, reveling in the nice heft, running his tongue along the underside. The bulbous head fills out his mouth, though not nearly as widely as his lord’s cock could manage. Dream sighs, rubbing his thighs together, wetting the dildo with his mouth.
In an ideal world, Dream would perform his ritual for his lord and master’s enjoyment, prepping himself and riding his dildo to the first of many finishes. In an ideal world…
He presses his hand against his plump stomach, the growing holy infant inside him obscene against his thin frame. Only in his first trimester and it already looks so big- so tempting. This child belongs to his lord.
Red burns over his cheeks, the ache in his cunt blooming into the sweetest burn. His lord’s child, carried by him, made solely to worship the god Dream now houses. Dream’s thoughts turn filthy, imagination running wild with possibilities.
There are many things that can be done with a divine child, many things that should not be done with a child at all, and Dream feels no shame in indulging his fantasies. After all, was this child not a gift to Dream? Does his lord not know about Dream’s… enjoyment of toys of all manner?
Does that not make this infant another potential future toy? Dream shivers, the hand on his belly slipping down to his cunt, running a finger between soaked lips, already flush with blood. He didn’t cum in the night again, he pouts.
But that can be rectified easily, already so on edge from such a terrible lack of stimulation. Dream grinds his palm into his micropenis, slipping a finger inside his cunt. Not for the first time, Dream imagines giving up on keeping this to himself. His god surely already knows what he’s doing.
Maybe his god would help? Dream clutches the dildo to his chest, not even moving his hand as he creeps from his room, stifling whines and moans. He sucks on the dildo to keep himself quiet.
God is in the same room he always is, sleeping with the same people that he invited to move in with him. Dream only vaguely knows them. The… Underscores? Tommy’s friend from school and said friend’s older brother/boyfriend/whatever. Dream doesn’t really care.
What he does care about is the cock currently splitting the older of the two brothers apart, the man rocking into Dream’s lord even in his sleep. Jealousy burns at his veins even as the sight makes him clench. Schlatt’s belly is bigger than Dream’s, both carrying at least twins while also being further along, maybe even in his second trimester.
It would explain the desperation, constantly seeking friction even asleep. Needy bitch, hoarding what everyone in this apartment wants, what everyone in the world should want. But they don’t know god is a teenage boy with golden hair and shimmering wings. Not yet anyway. Future plans.
The younger of the men nibble at his god’s skin, tasting his flesh, marking the divine skin he doesn’t know how lucky he is to have. Dream creeps closer to the edge of the bed, eyes automatically finding the last person in the room.
No, not person, slave. Phil is truly the only other person in this apartment to understand how to properly worship a god. No free will, no complaints, only blind servitude towards the one being who deserves it all.
Except Phil is currently asleep, wrapping in recently cleaned wings, the vibrator in him occasionally making his hips twitch. Looking closely, Dream can see how Phil’s face pinches in discomfort. The slave doesn’t know what Dream does, to remove toys before bed, but Dream will hardly tell him. God didn’t say Phil was allowed to sleep without them after all.
Cold tile burns his skin, kneeling at the foot of the bed once he reaches it. Dream keeps his gaze up, eying the connection between his god and one of his chosen breeders. A title Dream wants so badly to attain. One child isn’t enough.
Once will never be enough.
Placing the tip of the dildo against his weeping labia, Dream forces himself to sink down slowly. Rubber squelches, slick walls rippling around it, and he lowers his head. Half-baked prayers he hasn’t completely worked out filter through his mind.
Dear god, who hath blessed me with this child, may thee find pleasure eternal in my pitiful mortal flesh. Something like that. He’s working on it.
Falling flush with the floor, he continues to rock down, pushing the head of the dildo as deep into his pussy as the flared base will allow. Ridges catch and tug on every part of him, stubbornly clinging when he briefly rises up.
Once, Dream prayed for the eternal pleasure he now wishes for his god to have. He’d been selfish, greedy, and hadn’t yet been fucked until his vision went dark. He knows the truth now.
Only a being as divine as Tommy could possibly deserve something like that, could deserve to take it from every hole around him, willingness be damned. What are humans but bags of flesh designed to bring pleasure to Dream’s lord?
Biting his lip, he muffles another whine, panting steadily harder. Against his will, his eyes sneak back up. His lord’s cock is so close, his cunt so hungry, his womb so empty. Dream has sinned so much already.
If god hasn’t condemned him already, surely one more sin will be forgiven? He can’t resist a sight like this. If he was meant to, his lord should not have made it so tempting, so much stronger than anything a mortal could withstand.
Leaning up, still rocking into the air, Dream drags his tongue along the seam where his lord’s cock meets his breeder’s cunt. He shudders, eyes rolling back.
Even tainted with the taste of the mortal beside him, the flavour of his lord’s precum is enough to drive him over the edge, a shattered moan breaking the air. His legs give out, falling back against the dildo in his cunt, squirting around it. Yes, no mortal could resist this. None.
“Mmm, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” His lord mumbles, coming out of sleep as Dream cums. He trembles on the ground, struggling to get his tongue to work, a situation made worse by the diamond blue eyes landing on him.
“Sssorry my, mah, lord I- I need- ngh- need you so much. Want to worship you,” Dream babbles, leaning in again, this time to lick at whatever bit of his lord’s flesh he can reach. It’s mostly his god’s legs, nibbling and sucking on ankles and shins and knees.
“Don’t remember giving you permission to do that.” His god wakes up quickly, fucking into his breeder with more purpose. The breeder clings shamelessly to his lord, clawing at god’s back, lucky enough to be fucked out of sleep.
“Tommy, more,” the breeder whines, “Need your cum, gotta be filled. Feed- feed the baby.” Dream bites at the bedsheet to avoid marking his lord too badly, empty womb burning-burning-burning. He needs that too.
“You’ll have to wait your turn you pathetic whore,” his lord spits. Dream bounces on the dildo in him, no longer bothering to be quiet even as the younger man behind his lord mumbles in complaint. His lord glares harder, burning into Dream’s skin. Dream soaks up the attention like a lizard in the sun.
“Or, I have a slave for a reason. Entertain yourself with him if you’re so desperate.” His lord drives into his greedy breeder, the smacking of skin filling the air, the breeder daring to cum onto his lord’s stomach. The breeder wails, fluffy ears pinned back.
“I would- would never betray my lord like that,” Dream lies. So what if he’s indulged with Sapnap and George a few times- a lot, it’s been a lot- he needed it! His lord was busy and sometimes what a person really needs is a flesh and blood dick in them. It was for the baby!
“Then lay still and let my slave attend to-” His lord grunts, “to you.” Dream falls still, failing to understand that order for a moment. Then his lord calls out over his breeder’s sounds to Phil, the slave already awoken by all the noise.
“Phil! Entertain Dream so he stops bothering me. I’m busy,” His lord orders. Oh, oh. That wasn’t a test of faith, it wasn’t even a choice. Dream shivers, rocking down onto his dildo. His lord cares about him so much that he won’t allow Dream to go unfulfilled. What a kind, generous god Dream has chosen to serve.
“Yes master,” Phil whimpers, pulling his fingers out of himself with a disgustingly wet sound, the unnatural tightness of his cunt making it all the louder. Ridges grind against Dream’s g-spot, cunt desperately hungry.
He can’t tear his eyes away from his lord even when his lord’s slave kneels behind him, rubbing his cock against Dream’s asshole, knowing better than to try and take his dildo. Dream’s cunt is only given out at his god’s behest.
Some part of Dream relaxes when the slave presses into him, his modest cock spreading out Dream’s hole. It could be better, it could be Dream’s lord, but the part of him more pregnant instinct than anything else preens under even the slightest bit of attention. The combined pleasure goes a long way in creeping towards satisfaction.
Admittedly, the sight before him does more. Phil grips at his hips, rocking into him, and Dream finds himself forgetting Phil is there at all. God is fucking his breeder right now, rolled on top of the older man, scratches tearing down his back.
“D-dear lord,” Dream mumbles, “Of eternal passion, of unending bliss, grant me this one thing.” He gasps, pleasure bursting from his cunt, the bare base grinding into his micropenis.
“Your most loyal worshiper is calling to you- needs you- please, hear my plea.” Dream’s god’s grunts are louder than Dream’s words. God begins to speak.
“Such a good breeder, carrying my kids so well. Fuck, you’ve never looked better,” God praises. Dream knows his lord can be single minded at times but- but surely he’s talking to everyone right now. His current breeding whore is not the only one pregnant, though more heavily so than Dream.
Even from here, leaning against the foot of the bed, staring up at where Dream’s lord connects to the breeder, Dream can see the roundness of the breeder’s stomach. He looks easily halfway through his pregnancy, and as far as Dream knows he is.
Taut flesh stretches around his lord’s child, speaking of health and fertility. They’ll be even healthier soon enough, fed his lord’s cum, nothing but his lord’s cum. Dream moans, pressing back into the equally needy Phil.
No, no, Dream is needier, he knows he is. Dream is pregnant, every cell in his body made to crave his god and his cum. He knows he does not deserve it, he needs it all the same.
“Please,” Dream begs a little louder, “I’ll be so good, please.” He slams onto his dildo but it isn’t enough. It isn’t his lord. It isn’t even a real, flesh and blood cock. Is he really too far gone for this to work already?
“Can I shut him up?” The smaller boy grumbles, rubbing at his eyes. His god stills, slowing from a vicious fucking to a slow grind. The breeder complains, loudly and vividly, sobbing as his orgasm is robbed.
“No, don’t want you to have to touch him. If you wanna take care of Schlatt, I’ll deal with him.” His lord is so possessive over him, Dream fawns, pussy spasming erratically around his dildo to little effect. The slave whines, sticky cum filling Dream’s ass.
It isn’t enough.
“Nooo, Tommy- don’t go,” Schlatt whines louder, bucking into air, pussy left to gape open and unfulfilled. The smaller one jumps at the opportunity. His dick may be smaller than Dream’s lord but it fills Schlatt up all the same.
“I’ll be right back,” God assures the very pregnant man, who loses the ability to complain along with much of his upper brain function as his little brother takes up God's role with twice the enthusiasm- and a kiss.
“Now you take that thing out, Phil stay where you are,” his lord orders. It takes a bit of shuffling but both Dream and Phil manage to stand without ever breaking apart. He spreads his leg, pulling out the dildo.
Ridge after ridge catches on his tight pussy walls, stretching his hole wide around it before giving him a moment’s rest. Slick gushes down his thighs, flowing ever stronger at the promise of his god’s cock, currently hard and wet with someone else’s cum. Dream shivers. He’s dirty seconds and it couldn’t be more appealing.
“Green is very on brand of you,” God comments as though he were talking about the color of the sky. Heat blisters Dream’s skin, rocking his hips into the slave, trying and failing to keep his head.
His dildo slips from numb fingers, shakily moving his hand to spread his labia. His lord approaches, idly wrapping a hand around Dream’s hair, even the lightest of tugs sending glorious agony straight to his cunt. Dream can’t stop himself.
Dream’s legs give out, forced to lean into his lord, cum and slick trickling down his legs to pool on the floor. Embarrassment should follow but why would he feel embarrassed? The only thing to feel is an addictive mixture of pleasure and pain.
“Master, will- will you fuck me next?” Phil asks, continuing to rock into Dream, dick still hard at the very presence of their lord. Two fingers plunge into Dream’s core, thinner than his but belonging to his god. They flex inside him, testing the give of his cunt without any consideration for his overstimulated nerves, a desperate whine pulled from his throat.
“I don’t know, have you been a good slave? Do you deserve it?” God cruelly taunts, knowing that Phil has not been good. Phil has given into his whims far too much, doing all he can to be punished until he breaks.
“I have! Please, please, fuck me. God, please.” Dream jumps at the opportunity, babbling into his god’s hair. His lord tugs at his hair reproachfully, making his eyes roll back and jaw fall slack.
“Shut it, I wasn’t talking to you,” his lord snips, though he does slip more fingers into Dream, teasing him ever more. Pain blisters over his skin, pleasure burning out as he’s given more-more-more but no way to cope with it.
“No… No, I haven’t,” Phil finally answers, sounding on the verge of tears. For someone who’s allegedly upset, he seems to be having a wonderful time. Dream would laugh if he had any control over his body anymore.
“Then you have your answer.” God pulls his fingers from Dream. Dream claws at his lord, trying to bite back complaints, he only deserves whatever his god is willing to give him. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to put the effort in for long.
His lord pierces him in one long, slow thrust. It’s unstoppable, letting Dream feel every centimeter of his pussy begin to burn bit by bit, forced wide around an intrusion that nothing could prepare him for.
Dream cums dry, only sending him higher into the throws of pleasure, of overstimulation, of pain. His voice cracks, shouts surely rattling the entire apartment.
“Hey, you said you would shut him up!” The young man on the bed whines, interrupting Dream’s little slice of heaven. His lord pauses, not even halfway into Dream. No- no, no no, no.
“Sorry Tubbo,” his lord winces, “Slave, fill his mouth so he’ll shut up.” Dream is manhandled, shoved onto his hands and knees. The slave’s achingly hard, cum-slick cock is shoved into his face.
“Suck,” God demands. All Dream can do is comply, licking the slave’s cum from his dick, letting it be shoved into his unprepared throat. He gags on the heft of it. Dream really does mean to get around to training his throat, he just forgets to.
Maybe because there’s something intoxicating about choking on a cock like this, head going light, unable to breathe. He sucks messily, drool spilling from his lips. He doesn’t bother to bob, his lord’s thrusts moving him over the cock just fine, the slave making up for his inaction as well.
Then his god begins to fuck him in earnest, bruising his inner walls anew, though his cervix opens up far easier now that he’s pregnant. Dream raises a hand to his belly, held up more by the cocks within him than his own strength.
His swollen womb sways in time with the rocking. His lord’s cock only pushes it out more, morphing around the shape. Fuck, Dream looks far more pregnant than he really is, feels so very heavy.
An image floats into his mind, bred so well that he can’t even move, nothing but a slave to his lord’s whims. Dream moans weakly, clenching down on his lord. Surely already wound up from fucking his breeder, his god swears and cums.
Dream’s mind whites out. All he can focus on is that connection within him, the boiling cum filling up his womb, heavy and sticky. Renewed strength inspires him to buck back into his god, his lord’s hands cupping at his growing stomach, kneading the stretched tight flesh.
“Master,” the slave groans, shoving Dream’s noise against his groin. His cock seems to swell before he too fills Dream. Far more cum than Dream expected empties down his throat, filling his stomach like a hearty meal, only ruining him further.
“Maybe one day, I’ll be able to use you like this too,” his god sighs, “but for now, it’s breakfast time. Go on, Phil, make yourself useful.” His lord idly rocks into his cunt. Dream would be cumming if he could even do so.
Before the slave even finishes, he pulls out of Dream’s throat, cum backing up his mouth and falling over his chin. A few stray shots paint his face, his hair, his back as the slave pants.
“Y-yes Master.” The slave’s dick twitches, a half-hearted glob of cum trickling to the floor as if he could cum off of such a simple order.
All in all, it’s a perfect morning.
…
Tommy should be better at thinking with someone wrapped around his cock at this point but he isn’t. He takes a deep breath, unable to stop his hips from jumping into Schlatt’s wet heat.
Tubbo, naked and not helping, slumps over the counter beside him, idly doodling something in a notebook while Phil makes breakfast. Schlatt makes wanton sounds into his ears. It’s unintentional but again, not helping.
Before him sits the Want-It-Need-It book, trying to figure out what to write, swearing he had an idea before Schlatt wandered in, frustrated and teary eyed, to complain about his pregnancy symptoms. He was incredibly apologetic, both about calling Tubbo’s load ‘not enough’ and taking over Tommy’s morning like this.
Obviously he’s not complaining. Schlatt ripples around him, trying to milk his cock dry of both cum and precum, oddly enough making him think about Scar’s cum business proposal. Tommy chews on Schlatt’s shoulder, trying to focus.
Schlatt’s nails dig into his back, a shaky swear rattling from Schlatt’s mouth with each desperate attempt at riding Tommy. He can’t quite manage the coordination to do so, clumsy at best, but somehow that just makes it even better.
What was he doing again? Tommy takes a shuddering breath, tapping his pen against the notebook. It involved Dream, right?
As if on cue, Dream stumbles into the kitchen, dressed and clutching at his swollen stomach. Cum balloons him out so much he could easily be carrying five kids, maybe six. Realistically, it’s probably only the one. Tommy hasn’t changed enough for twins to be any more likely.
‘Dream gets pregnant anytime someone uses his cunt.’
Unless, of course, Tommy changed something now for Dream specifically. Call it a trial run, to see how exactly that would work before applying it to other people.
“Hah, my dad’s gonna kill me,” Dream slumps into a stool, wetting it with the sheer amount of cum seeping from his cunt, not bothering with pants or even underwear just yet. All he has on is a white lacy thing masquerading as a skirt.
‘Dream’s dad wants to see Dream pregnant.’
“I think- mmh- you’ll be fine.” Tommy grins cheekily. He briefly drops a hand to clutch at Schlatt’s hips, steadying him for several rough thrusts, trying to work out a little tension. Maybe that will help him focus?
“Doubt it but, eh, he always likes to see his mistresses pregnant. Same thing once I get those pregnancy tits.” Dream gropes at his flat chest, shuddering. Tommy forcibly stills himself.
‘Dream only lets me use his cunt.’
Maybe it does help him focus, enough to realize that his first change could go horribly wrong if Dream is really out there fucking all his sycophants. A simple change but a needed one.
“Worse comes to worse, just give him a blowjob.” Tommy isn’t sure how he’s managing to stay so calm talking to Dream. It’s definitely because he’s too horny to be angry, Schlatt taking over all his senses.
“Can confirm, always works,” Tubbo chimes in, “why do you think I started sucking Schlatt off?” Tommy can’t say if that’s a joke or the real story. His mind drifts again, an old idea bubbling up.
Karl had seemed so happy getting filled from all angles, not even half as anxious as he usually is. Tommy should do something nice for him.
‘Karl Jacobs is a free use sex toy.’
Does that make Karl just a prostitute? A teacher and a prostitute? He isn’t sure, he’ll figure it out when he gets to school- fuck. Tommy drops his pencil, trying to write with Schlatt on his dick was a bad idea. He clutches at Schlatt’s hips.
“Really?” He hears Dream ask Tubbo, genuinely curious, palming at his very pregnant stomach. Schlatt’s own stomach presses against Tommy’s, already sporting stretch marks from the growing life within. His cunt sucks at Tommy’s cock, needing his cum, for him to feed that life.
“Nah- I just asked. Got advised by the counselor to work something out after exploding like a dozen pens from chewing on them, asked Schlatt cause, well, look at him, and it kind of spiraled from there,” Tubbo nonchalantly reveals.
Tommy bottoms out with a swear of his own. Schlatt falls limp again, only his cunt and womb twitching, utter bliss rendering him mute. Tommy grinds against Schlatt, feeling Schlatt’s cum paint their stomachs yet again.
“Come on, come on. Give it to me, please?” Schlatt whines, so quiet the only reason Tommy managed to hear it is because Schlatt’s head is right next to his ear. Tommy’s wings flare, digging his fingers into Schlatt. How could he say no to that?
With a couple more harsh thrusts, feeling his own cock poking through Schlatt’s stomach and into his, Tommy cums. It’s fascinating to feel from this angle. Schlatt’s stretched out womb only grows bigger in a way he wouldn’t have thought possible before this, accommodating more and more cum. Unlike his adorable pregnancy pouch, this extra mass sloshes about, gurgling with each added spurt.
“Now that I can understand,” Dream whistles, “though your brother isn’t exactly my taste, no offense.” Tommy glares at Dream the best he can, suffering from the aftershocks of Schlatt’s rippling womb- less tight with how far it’s being made to stretch but no less addictive.
“Yeah, Tommy is the best,” Tubbo agrees. Very sweet, very neat. He takes a deep breath. Schlatt lets out a sigh, satisfaction radiating off him, and presses a gentle kiss against the crook of Tommy’s neck.
“Anyone who doesn’t think that should be shot,” Schlatt chimes in. Tommy whines, suddenly burning for an entirely new reason. Nevermind. This is rude, very rude, the most rude.
“Awww, Tommy feeling shy?” Tubbo instantly notices Tommy’s growing, uh, discomfort. Definitely not embarrassment, that is not what’s happening right now. He glares silently at his boyfriend.
“Truth hurts… thanks for this by the way,” Schlatt’s hand works its way between them, petting at his stomach, “gotta get up though, I’ve got work.” Right, that’s still a thing.
“Need to prepare for Wilbur anyway.” A load a day keeps the crazy away or something like that. Tommy shuffles back, helping Schlatt find his footing on shaky legs. A whine drags itself from Schlatt’s chest as Tommy’s cock slides out.
Cum trails weakly down Schlatt’s inner thighs, slick and wet with each step Schlatt takes back towards his bedroom. Dream moans at the sight, fingers audibly jerking in and out of his cunt. Needy bitch.
No worse than Wilbur- definitely not worse than Phil- but Dream gets less leeway for that because fuck him in particular. Speaking of Phil, he limps up to the island, sliding freshly made waffles towards each of them.
“Good boy, Phil,” Tommy praises. What? He’s cruel but he’s not a bitch. Plus it’s a little funny to watch Phil stumble, plate clattering against the counters, wings flaring out in a clear mating display. Do Tommy’s do that? He ruffles his wings. If he did, it felt so natural that he didn’t even notice.
About halfway through breakfast, Wilbur finally comes to join them, fully dressed and with a leashed Techno at his side. For the first time since Wilbur moved in, Techno is walking on his own two feet.
Likely because of the leash. It attaches to Wilbur’s belt, pulling down harshly on Techno’s collar, definitely making it harder to breathe. Judging by Techno’s leaking cock and slick thighs, both visible through the sheer mesh that’s probably meant to be an incredibly short dress, he’s doing that on purpose.
“...are we not fucking this morning or?” Tommy asks around a mouthful of pancakes. Wilbur scoffs, skipping over to him to drape against his sweaty back. Techno’s presence itches at Tommy’s skin which is- fine, probably.
“Not yet~ I had the most darling idea that I think you’ll agree with,” Wilbur coos into his ear, tracing shapes over Tommy’s cum slick chest. Tommy tilts his head, letting Wilbur slot easier against his shoulder.
“I got this email yesterday- and who even uses that anymore? Anyway- we have to be at your school for a ‘parent-teacher conference’ or something, one on one. I thought we might put on a little show for them,” Wilbur suggests.
Listen, Tommy fully remembers writing that Wilbur likes showing off sexually but this still feels like it’s coming out of left field. His cock twitches with interest.
“I like that idea. You going to dress up or dress down?” Tommy’s attention drifts towards Techno, “and are we leaving the slaves here or…?” Wilbur’s hand dips lower, playing with the line of his hip.
“Techno’s staying but what Dad does is up to you, you’re the one that owns him. My situation is also yours to decide. What do you want me to do, master?” Wilbur purrs, grinding forward into Tommy’s back.
Great question. He could get away with bringing Phil to school, probably. Phil’s situation is legal, incest is legal, and Tommy can do basically whatever he wants in public short of actual murder- no one would have the legal ground to stop him anyway.
Biting his cheek, problems float to mind. This is still a parent-teacher conference, a thing he needs to focus on, not fuck through, especially since it revolves around his graduation. Besides, the school does actually have rules against bringing pets to school. The handbook might mean pets of the animal kind but the wording could include the other kind of pet.
The one that Grian doesn’t technically fall under for the next two-three days. The one Phil definitely does… probably? Phil’s legal situation is… weird, so tangled up he doubts anyone could replicate it.
“The slave stays here,” Tommy decides. Phil droops, pouting but having seemingly learned not to complain. He literally signed away every single right he could think to, he doesn’t get to complain. Tommy didn’t- well technically he one hundred percent did make Phil do that but shut up about it.
“But you have to come with, you’re my legal guardian, right? So they’re expecting you. And we gotta act like adults, not sluts.” Tommy leans back into Wilbur, who nibbles at his jaw. Wilbur hums into his skin.
“Well, that ruins my plan.” Wilbur tastes his skin with tiny kitten-licks. “Guess you’ll have to fill me up first instead.” Wilbur’s lower hand follows the line of his hip, wrapping the best it can around the base of his cock. Tommy eats another chunk of waffle.
“Oh no, the horror, however will I cope,” Tommy snorts around his fork. Now a small issue; if he fucks Wilbur, his waffles will get cold… well, a blowjob would probably work? For his addiction if not his pregnancy.
“You wanna kneel here or in the living room? I still gotta eat too-“ Wilbur falls to his knees. “… at least make Techno get you a pillow,” Tommy sighs. That was a pretty loud crack yet Wilbur seems completely unbothered by it all.
Speaking of Techno, he crumbles after Wilbur, grabbing at his collar with harsh gasps, choked by the sudden shift in altitude. He claws at the thick leather, hips jerking against the air. Does he like being choked? Tommy makes a mental note of that for entirely normal reasons.
“But I don’t wanna wait,” Wilbur pouts up at him, tugging at his barstool. It scrapes against the ground, forced to turn around bit by bit with him in it. Tommy rolls his eyes, oddly fond of the pitiful scene, flicking ears and tail too excited for true begging.
“I can’t make you.” Tommy very much can. The thing is, he has places to be, things to do, people to do- Wilbur hefts up his cock and Tommy suddenly has much more important things to think about.
Wilbur places a kiss against the head of his cock, wetting his lips with precum. His brother shudders, moaning softly at the mere taste, which is far too common of a reaction. Then again, Tommy remembers when he tasted it, the indescribable flavor of pure good. It’s uncanny.
Then Wilbur tests his jaw against his width. His inexperience shows, neglecting much of Tommy’s cock in an attempt to shove it down his throat. It’s kind of interesting, Wilbur’s paradox of experience. Tommy knows, objectively, that Wilbur got quite a lot under Techno and Phil’s not-so-gentle care yet, without those memories, none of that experience can be drawn upon.
So despite Wilbur’s jaw and throat stretching easily around his cock, heavenly in its heat and the wet slide, his chest still stutters. He gags, mind fighting the intrusion even as instinct purrs- literally. A quiet sound underlines the sinful noises, Wilbur’s purring in pure delight. Techno mimics him.
Leaning against his twin, Techno purrs soothingly, rubbing Wilbur’s sternum as the bulge of Tommy’s cock slowly encroaches. Tommy groans, trying to still his hips, to remember to eat, when such a delightful sight steals his attention.
But Tommy somehow manages. He’s been trained by his boyfriends and various ‘study aids’ on how to split his attention. He steadily consumes his waffles while Wilbur steadily consumes his cock.
“Ugh, really? Right in front of my brother?” Schlatt reenters the kitchen with a loud scoff. What a hypocrite, Tommy laughs. He was just fucked within an inch of his life in front of Tubbo’s waffles but Wilbur is the problem? It’s a protectiveness he’s grown familiar with.
“Tubbo can barely see him,” Tommy defends his brother, cupping the back of Wilbur’s head to stop him from pulling back. Words turn into vibrations on his cock. He grinds into Wilbur, groaning as Wilbur’s lips seal around the bottom of his cock. Pure spite keeps Wilbur down there, tears pouring down his cheeks.
“They’re still in the same room as each other. I know this is apparently consensual and shit but- I’m not- you can’t make me accept this. He still hurt you, even if he didn’t rape you. Abuse is abuse.” Schlatt shifts in discomfort, ears pinned, crossing his arms above his round stomach.
“Got him there,” Techno grumbles. Wilbur reaches blindly for Techno’s leash, tugging harshly. Techno chokes again, grinding against Wilbur.
“And him! Wilbur might be innocent but there is actual video evidence of Techno assaulting you. How are you okay with this? You don’t have to be- you shouldn’t feel the need to give them what they want.” Schlatt rubs at his face, pleading with him.
“What if I want them? Can’t I have them? Look at them! They’re barely even people anymore, they’re just mine.” This is feeling disturbingly close to an argument. Wilbur does back him up though, moaning loudly around his cock.
“Owning them does not erase the fact they hurt you. You’re still- you’re allowed to say no, to feel hurt and- and you’re not listening to me, I get it. I bet this feels normal to you.” Schlatt gives up, it isn’t a great look.
Tommy would say he’s wrong, that Tommy knows this isn’t normal, but… but isn’t he right? Hasn’t he been treating his abusers like a checklist of people to fuck and breed? Hasn’t he got far used to fucking in public? To walking around with his cock out?
It didn’t happen all at once yet it hasn’t even been three months since he got that book. His descent into depravity was fast yet slow enough that he’s not even questioning what he’s doing, what he’s planning to do.
“Maybe you should take a break though, spend a couple days by yourself. No offense but you look like you need it,” Schlatt suggests. Tommy can’t meet his eyes, suddenly far too aware of the stench of sex sunk deep into the apartment, on the fact his skin hasn’t been free of bites and hickies in weeks.
“I agree!” Tubbo blurts, “I’ll go too if you need time. I don’t- I love you no matter what, okay?” He startles, hissing as his cock drags against Wilbur’s throat. Tommy… can’t respond to that, his voice refusing to work, a feeling that was once far too common now turned strange.
He nods mutely, running his hands over Wilbur’s ears, testing the soft fur with his thumb. It barely helps, barely soothes the harsh reality check Schlatt provided. His wings bristle behind him.
“Just… think about it while I’m at work,” Schlatt sighs. He leaves without another word. Tommy knows he isn’t mad- Schlatt is never so quiet when he’s angry- but he’s still… upset? Disappointed? He hunches over himself.
“Imma go get dressed too.” Tubbo scurries off as well, leaving Tommy with the twins, Dream, and a Phil who’s been trained into silence. For a moment, that quiet persists.
“What a bitch,” Dream gripes. Tommy snaps his hips forward. He might not know how to deal with Schlatt and his- his- his concern? But he knows how to deal with a whore running their mouth.
“Dream,” Tommy calls sweetly, rolling into Wilbur’s slick throat, “why don’t you go give Phil a hand and stay out of my sight.” Wilbur gags on his dick, clinging to his legs for support, eyes rolling back.
“But! I- of course, my lord, whatever you want.” Dream pouts, reluctantly getting up to pull Phil away. Still, he listens anyway, he doesn’t have any other choice.
Tommy didn’t allow him to have any other choice. He shakes his head but, for once, it doesn’t really help. He tries to focus on Wilbur’s tight throat, on the vibrations and too-appealing stretch of his face and throat, but that doesn’t do much either.
But he can’t just stop. Wilbur needs this. Tommy fucked up and Wilbur literally needs his cum even if his heart isn’t really in it anymore. He rolls his hips, tries to enjoy it, but…
Maybe he’s just had too much sex? Even if he has basically no limit, there should still be a limit somewhere. Still, just one more should do. Just one more.
…
Ren stretches in his chair, spine popping as his student leaves. His fellow teachers shuffle about, checking who’s next, the ones who don’t have them sighing in relief as they finally get a break. It’s a long, complicated process, these meetings but they’re necessary. One too many parents have gotten upset about the ‘lack of oversight’ for their precious crotch goblins. These meetings really just exist to allow the school to tell them to fuck off if their kid fails.
But that does mean that, while the kids get a week off to work on their projects, Ren is stuck here meeting with each one of his hundreds of students in group meetings, teachers versus family.
“Who will be staying to meet… Theseus Mycroft and his guardian, Wilbur Mycroft?” Xisuma calls over the gathered teachers. Tommy? Ren perks up embarrassingly fast, ears swiveling about like he might be able to hear the kid already.
“My husband is one of his teachers, I’ll fetch him,” Grian offers. Ren pets his ears back, eying Grian. He’s been odd recently. It’s not a bad kind of odd, more relaxed maybe? There’s a tension missing that Ren hasn’t even realized was there until it was gone. He has a feeling it has something to do with the faint impression of what’s clearly a collar on Grian’s neck, red lines not entirely covered by his sweater.
Good for him, honestly. More people need to be honest with themselves and their kinks, it makes the world a brighter place.
“Of course, anyone else here have Theseus in their class?” Despite having access to all the rosters, Xisuma asks anyway. Ren tracks Grian as he leaves the room, wondering if maybe he would be allowed to stay during Tommy’s meeting, just to hang out. He could ask…
“No? Alright, could someone please bring in Foolish Stuare, Karl Jacobs, Alexis Quackity, and Sam Wardell?” Xisuma orders, though he makes it sound like a question. He’s rather good at that, saying one thing that means something entirely different.
Even as his order is followed, as teachers leave and Tommy’s teachers trickle in one by one, Ren lingers. No one has told him to leave, Ren convinces himself, pretending to be distracted by something on his phone.
Unfortunately, his luck does not last forever. There’s only a few minutes between each meeting at most, someone was going to confront him. Ren just didn’t expect to look up and see Xisuma standing over him.
“Hey, Mr. Principal, what can I do for ya?” Ren plays it cool, a task always made easier by his trusty sunglasses, grinning. Xisuma is as intimidatingly unintimidating as ever. Dressed in casual clothes, face covered by an oxygen mask- the tank wheeled behind him- Xisuma certainly appears rather weak to the parents who attend this school.
Many issues have occurred because people see Xisuma and assume he’s a pushover, that the condition they can see yet know nothing about defines him. Ren knows that to be very wrong. When shit goes wrong, you call Xisuma and it will go away. It’s scary how competent he is.
“Ren, you’re not one of Theseus' assigned teachers. I’m going to have to ask you to leave once he arrives, legal matters, you see?” Another question, another order hidden within eyes darker than the void itself.
“You got it, Boss. Way to stoke my curiosity though, didn’t realize Tommy got up to anything like that, he’s been nothing but charming during recital.” Ren salutes. He can’t keep eye contact with Xisuma, never has, so lets his gaze fall to the rest of the room.
Foolish with his newly gained exemption, belly and chest softened as his pregnancy goes on. Sam is with his ex-military vibes completely at odds with his loose, revealing clothing. Karl, nervous as can be yet so blatantly tagged with a little purple collar reading ‘free use’. Quackity is the only somewhat normal one, forced to lean instead of sit with his obscenely large hips.
“You’ve met with Tommy, yes, but I don’t believe you’ve ever taught him, no?” Xisuma tilts his head, the inflection on that word, on taught, implying something Ren can’t read into.
Unless Xisuma is referring to the teachers’ illicit affairs? Surely not. Surely if Xisuma knew, he would be able to do something where Ren cannot. Surely… his smile grows a bit strained, faith in his fellow man too broken to fully believe in his once untouchable boss. After all, doesn’t Xisuma have unrestricted access to the campus security cameras?
“Can’t say I have! Taught his boyfriend though. Ranboo’s a sweet kid, been really putting a lot of thought into his future- pet stuff, yanno? Been helping where I can,” Ren rambles. Maybe Xisuma hasn’t had a reason to look at the cameras and Ren is overthinking this.
“That’s understandable, I don’t think any other teacher or even our counselors had the same amount of experience as you do in that regard. What does that have to do with Theseus?” Xisuma shifts to rest his weight more against the table, adjusting his grip on his cane.
“I guess it doesn’t. Well, ‘cept for the fact that Ranboo’s future owner’s gonna be Tommy, he’s already agreed to it, I was there. Still gonna arrange a proper signing though, I contacted one of the pet agencies in the city for after graduation.” Ren bites his cheek. This is not casual, not when his ears keep wanting to pin back and his tail has fallen limp.
“Oh?” Now he has Xisuma’s attention, a sharp and dangerous thing, “Perhaps you should stay then. You might be able to give a perspective to this situation that’s more… objective- a legal expert so to speak,” Xisuma offers. Legal expert?
About pets? Since when did Tommy get a pet? Oh- right, Grian. Ren swallows a growl. Grian’s situation isn’t exactly legal, contracts signed by minors with guardian approval rarely are. If Grian had waited only a few more months, Ren wouldn’t even have much reason to be upset, but no, he had to go the pedophilia route.
Ren isn’t sure if he wants to resign from this fucking job the moment Tommy graduates or if he needs to stick around to stop these fucking freaks from targeting another kid.
“I’ll do what I can! But, well, Tommy’s a minor-” several people flinch, “so if he signed a contract without- Wilbur, was it?- around then it’s not really legally binding,” Ren warns. Xisuma’s smile grows thin behind his mask.
“I’m afraid that isn’t the issue here.” Xisuma shakes his head softly. Ren tilts his head, confused, but that’s when Tommy walks in with his guardian. His brother, Ren recognizes.
Wait- shouldn’t it be his father? Ren’s pretty sure Dr. Mycroft is still alive and not in jail. Then again, Ren doesn’t really read the news or watch TV at all. The most he gets is whatever trickles into the bdsm communities on his phone. Even then, he’s not really been going into those since meeting Tommy, not needing them to feel satisfied when all he needs is… is…
Maybe he’s also been avoiding them because he’s been feeling a little sick recently. That’s no one’s business but his one.
“Theseus, Wilbur, thank you for coming, please take a seat. We’re just waiting on Dr. Jumbo before we begin,” Xisuma greets the pair. Ren keeps his attention carefully on Wilbur, prickling internally at the sight of a cat, an entirely unreasonable reaction.
He only glances at Tommy a couple of times, dressed damn near modestly- if only because his dick isn’t hard and isn’t pushing up his skirt for once.
In the same way that Grian lost tension, Tommy has gained it, eyes kept carefully below their eyes. He curls over himself slightly, hiding in his brother’s shadow. Only a hollow shell of the confidence Ren has come to know remains. Something is undeniably wrong and he doesn’t know what.
A whine builds in his throat as Tommy sits. Ren can’t help, especially not in front of so many people, but he wants to. He curls his fingers into his thighs, biting his tongue to hold back a kind word, a concerned question, a desperate longing to know what happened.
For once, his head is perfectly clear around Tommy because now is not the time for this shit. Now if only everyone else in the room agreed. The only other person seeming even slightly concerned is Quackity, the rest reek of sex, carefully hidden sounds of need far too loud to his sensitive ears.
Not even Wilbur is on that list, lips an abused red that implies things Ren doesn’t want to read into. That Ren reads into all the same. Did Wilbur force himself on Tommy? No, he can’t jump to conclusions.
“Ah, just who we were talking about. Dr. Mumbo! Thank you, Grian. I must ask that you stay, you are rather important to the conversation at hand.” Xisuma gestures towards the empty meeting room chairs. Grian starts moving at the word ‘stay’.
He does not follow Xisuma’s softly worded order to sit. Grian takes two sure steps to stand next to Tommy’s chair, seemingly does not think at all, and kneels. Ren tastes blood, ears pinning back because what the fuck. Grian can’t even be subtle about the illegal contract he had Tommy sign?
“What a… perfect segue into the issue at hand. Theseus it has come to my attention that you have been participating in several… extracurricular activities with your teachers. As a principal, I am obligated to declare these incidents to the appropriate authorities. However, I would first like to talk to you. It would be such a shame to report what could end up not being a problem at all-“ Xisuma talks, Ren hears little of it.
Ren hears enough to know that Xisuma knew and did nothing. He hears enough to know that Xisuma is planning on covering this up, that Tommy is wilting under attention, shying away from where Grian undoubtedly leans against him.
A loud growl bursts from his chest completely out of his control. It’s so unlike him that half the people in the room jump, those with a bit more control over their reaction still reflexively turning towards him and his instinctively bared teeth.
“Why Mr. Principal, if I didn’t know any better, it sounds like you're approving of your staff preying on a minor,” Ren laughs, a sound far too light for the anger boiling in his veins.
“Now don’t go putting words into my mouth, it just seems we’re having a bit of a misunderstanding. I’m sure you’re aware of Theseus’ many legal exemptions, including the precarious situation surrounding his father,” Xisuma soothes.
“Is there a problem with Dad being a slave? That’s news to me. We haven’t gotten a follow up from the court in weeks,” Wilbur interjects. A slave? How-
Many anti-pet movements complain that it’s merely the return of slavery, the first step in the downfall of their country. Did Dr. Mycroft abuse legal loopholes in order to make that horrific claim a reality? Ren’s hands itch, though whether he wants to look it up to confirm his suspicions or tear someone’s throat out, he can’t say.
“Which brings us back to the issue at hand. As Theseus is a minor currently, I do need to know if his proclivities are going to impact the school itself. Should I expect to be losing staff in the near future?” Xisuma… is approving of this shit? Ren grits his teeth harder, jaw aching at the force of it. He can’t kill the guy, Ren tells himself, because that’s illegal and he’d feel really bad about it afterwards.
Except Tommy looks so damn uncomfortable. Except a student is being looked at like a piece of meat by several adults and only seems to be getting more and more withdrawn. The longer Xisuma goes on, that Wilbur laughs and plays along, the more Ren is convinced he’s watching the kid fall head first into a panic attack.
And Ren… Ren can do something about that. He stands, beginning to round the table. While most of Tommy’s stalkers- abusers, cultists, same thing- don’t notice, far too busy with whatever sick fantasies are consuming them, Xisuma is at least a small bit more conscious. Whether that means he’s got more self control or isn’t a pedophile, Ren can’t say. He hates this place so much.
“Mr. Douge, return to your seat, this meeting isn’t finished,” Xisuma admonishes. Ren bristles, growling again. He rounds the table, unable to stop himself from glowering down at Grian, who looks far too fucking happy with himself. Pure bliss makes it clear he’s either unaware of or doesn’t care about his Owner’s current state. Bad dog.
“Do none of you remember a single one of those mental health awareness seminars? Even a moment of the training courses?” Ren snaps back, keeping his voice low. “He’s panicking. You shut your mouth and let me do something about it.” Wilbur startles, head whipping around like he hadn’t once considered Tommy’s behavior to be strange before now.
Ren takes a careful breath. He shoves all his rage into a bottle, tosses that bottle into the sea, and carefully maneuvers himself just into Tommy’s line of sight. Lowering himself to Tommy’s height, he takes a knee.
“Hey Toms, can you look at me?” Ren asks, voice soft in the now-quiet room. Time stretched on in the wake of his question, each passing moment before Tommy finally reacts to him- damning in its own right. Tommy hasn’t been mentally in the meeting… possibly from the very start.
Gorgeous blue eyes meet his, though for once his chest doesn’t stutter under their weight. Concern is too great, Tommy’s eyes too dull, for him to feel anything else.
“Thank you, that’s great. Just keep looking at me. It’s just you and me here. Is it alright if I hold your hand?” Ren lifts his hand in front of his chest, palm up, not reaching out at all. No expectation, only a quiet offer of support.
Again, a long quiet. Tommy nods shallowly but Ren does not move, only barely reaching out. He waits. Slowly, Tommy reaches out first.
His hand is soft against Ren’s, small and thin, trembling when he presses their palms together. No linking fingers, just a pressure Tommy can pull away from wherever he wants. Ren smiles gently.
“You’re doing amazing,” Ren praises, “Do you want to leave the room?” Tommy flickers away, tensing, digging his fingers into Ren’s wrist. His hesitation is palpable if you’re paying attention… not that any of these people seem to care that much- no, focus.
“No one’s going to force you to stay. They’ll have to go through me first.” Ren puffs up dramatically, splaying his free hand over his chest. For a moment, he can swear he sees Tommy smile, a fragile thing that’s gone as soon as it arrives.
Then another nod, just as small as the last. Ren stands slowly, Tommy stands with him, prompting a whine of complaint from Grian. Ren’s back tenses even as he forces himself to stay composed.
“Ignore him, just look at me. One step at a time.” Ren does not take his hand back but neither does Tommy, neither stepping away nor pulling close as they leave the room. As soon as the door clicks shut, Ren can hear the faint sounds of noise behind him. Tommy doesn’t have his sensitive hearing so, thankfully, he shouldn’t be able to hear it.
Yelling mostly, confusion and demands, though the exact words are lost to the soundproofing. He flicks his ears, turning his attention back to Tommy.
“Do you want to stay here?” Ren asks. Simple questions, no expectations- Tommy has dealt with enough people assuming what he wants. It’s as though everyone thinks that just because Tommy accepts their advances, it means he’s completely unbothered by it all.
Because Ren is far too nice to these people, he tries to give them the benefit of the doubt. It’s always possible that they were too blinded by their own wants to see any deeper- no that’s worse. Maybe the fact that, under Tommy’s unique circumstances, they can’t do anything unless Tommy starts it means that they think their actions are without harm.
Except that’s assuming that Ren knows Tommy better than he does, knows Tommy’s circumstances and how he ended up fucking them all to begin with. He could ask- should-but now is not the time.
“I wanna stay with you,” Tommy mumbles, pulling his wings tight around his shoulders like a shawl. He sways towards Ren, never quite touching. Ren softens, tucking away that train of thought for a later date.
“Hey, I’m not going anywhere,” Ren assures, “but there are other rooms if you want to be somewhere a little less public. Rooms with locks so no one sneaks up on us either.” Even if privacy has never been an issue. Even if Tommy’s situation is only not legally sexual abuse because of his special exemptions.
“I…” Tommy’s voice dies. He turns to look up at Ren, eyes prickling with tears, chewing on his lip to hold back unspoken words. Ren keeps his face carefully controlled. No expectations, no push or pull, just them.
“I just… I don’t…” Tommy stumbles over his words, voice thick. A boy so eloquent reduced to stammering. What caused this? Ren’s tail flicks, biting at his cheek again. Who pushed Tommy over the edge? It doesn’t matter right now but- but-
“Can I have another hug?” Tommy damn near whispers, pulling his hand back to tug at his sweater. It’s a loose thing, hanging off one shoulder, exposing the plethora of hickies, bites, and bruises painted over his skin. He looks like a gift wrapped in fabric, begging to be unwrapped. Then again, that’s only if you ignore everything else.
The shifting, each tug and pull trying to cover up, not reveal more. Whatever caused this reminded Tommy of how he used to dress, of how his preferred plaids and frills slowly shifted into this darker style, thigh highs and sinfully short skirts. There’s nothing objectively wrong with it but…
But Ren has the horrible thought maybe Tommy didn’t choose to wear this, that maybe he had no other choice. From what little he actually knows, it wouldn’t surprise him.
“Yeah, of course you can, come here.” Ren spreads his arms, welcoming but not asking- he stumbles back, not expecting the sheer force Tommy throws himself at Ren with. He buries his head into Ren’s chest, curving his wings around them both. It’s a difficult task to figure out where to put his hands.
Not between Tommy’s wings, that’s a sensitive place on Avians. Not too low on his back, too many people have likely groped at his ass and Ren does not want to remind Tommy of anything sexual right now. Ren sets one hand on Tommy’s lower back and one against the back of his head.
Light pressure, a gentle hold that Tommy doesn’t need any force to remove. Not for the first time, Ren wishes he could purr, the soothing noise perfect for this situation. He settles for nestling his nose in Tommy’s hair.
Keeping his back to the conference room, his larger body hides Tommy from anyone who might try to peek out. Tommy’s trembling grows worse the longer the hug goes on. A damp sensation spreads over his chest- tears. Ren hushes Tommy.
“I’ve got you, let it all out. You’re safe here.” You’re safe with me. If only Ren could be there all the time. Alas, Tommy is still a minor, unable to have a Pet the legal way… well, unless someone assigned Ren as his Emotional Support Pet.
But no, that would require someone in this clusterfuck of a situation to be willing to bring Tommy to court, to explain what’s going on and why Tommy needs an Emotional Support Pet to begin with. Once again, Ren is stuck waiting for Tommy’s birthday at least.
Or Wilbur could sign the contract but, to be completely honest, Ren would prefer to wait than to sign a contract any of Tommy’s family approves of. This is the family that abused the Pet system to make a slave and that allowed Tommy to sign a Sex Pet contract. He doesn’t trust Wilbur nearly enough to have him as an intermediary.
So all Ren can do is provide support when he can. All he can do is let Tommy cry.
“Am I a bad person?” Tommy whines, clutching at him like a lifeline. Ren stiffens, immediately starting to hush the boy.
“No, never. Being in a bad situation does not make you a bad person.” Ren scratches at Tommy’s scalp. Tommy shakes his head roughly, hitting his fist into Ren’s chest, petulant as can be.
“But- but what if it’s my fault? What if I’m the reason they’re like- like that?” Tommy’s blaming himself. Of course he is. With a family like that and teachers so wound up, Ren struggles to imagine how Tommy would think anything else. To Ren’s knowledge, Tommy only has two friends- his boyfriends, who can only do so much.
“Tommy, Toms, look at me.” Ren waits for Tommy to do so, pulling back slightly. Tommy scrubs away his tears.
“It’s not your fault, it couldn’t be. They’re the adults here. They’re the ones responsible for making sure their desires don’t bother you, not you. You can’t control what they feel,” Ren soothes. Tommy stiffens under his touch.
“What if… what if I could? What if I made them feel like they had to?” Tommy mumbles, adverting his eyes like he’s admitting to something terrible. Even though this little ‘what if’ is impossible, Ren plays along. Maybe that will get through to the kid.
“Did you specifically force them to fuck you? Did you puppeteer their every action and word?” Ren prods, exploring this little scenario.
“...No, guess not. They just… need to… I guess. Except for, like, most of the teachers I guess, I dunno why they’re like that but… but my family I… Wilbur’s literally addicted. He- he nearly died and it’s my fault,” Tommy sniffles, blinking back a fresh wave of tears.
“While I can’t say much for addiction,” science can’t really explain some of them, only theories about reward pathways and brain stuff Ren doesn’t understand, “you just said it yourself, right? You didn’t make your teachers be so… like themselves, they did that themselves. They chose to hurt you, to touch you. It was never because of anything you did. It was never something you could control,” Ren argues back.
“You don’t get it. I… I did it cause I wanted them to hurt, to suffer, because- because-” Tommy chokes on his own words.
“Because they hurt you first?” Ren asks carefully. A pit opens up in his chest, ears drooping. Of course, that makes sense, it’s far too common. People who are abused, lashing out because it’s the only thing they know.
“I just wanted them to stop,” Tommy cries, “and they did but then I kept pushing and pushing and now I don’t know what to do. I can’t stop. I can’t change them back. It’s all my fault.” He presses his hands against his eyes hard, leaning forward into Ren.
“You were desperate. We… people do strange things when they’re desperate. You shouldn’t have had to be in a position where you had to make a decision like that.” Ren can’t blame Tommy for feeling the need to take revenge after everything he’s been through.
Tommy’s a good kid, he wouldn’t do something like that without a reason. Maybe he got a little out of hand- clearly he did if there’s an issue- but he’s a teenager. What teenager is known for making good decisions?
It’s easy to give Tommy the benefit of the doubt. He deserves it.
“I’m sorry,” Tommy mumbles into his chest, “I didn’t mean to- but then I did. What if I can fix it and then they hurt me again? This is better. It should be better. I can give them what they want now and they’ll stop. Why don’t I feel better?”
“Because you got yourself out of one mess by making an even bigger one?” Ren suggests, “I mean, theoretically, if you did have… what we talking about, mind control powers? If you had those, switching out physical abuse for sexual exploitation isn’t exactly better. It might have felt better at the time but… they didn’t really change, only their methods.”
“...how do I fix it? How do I make it better without them just… getting worse again?” Tommy asks, meek as can be. Now that’s a tough one. Ren grimaces, knowing in an instant that there is no answer to that question that will make Tommy feel better, only the cold hard truth.
“You can’t. If they don’t want to change, you can’t make them,” Ren answers slowly. Tommy falls still. Several minutes pass, just them and the empty hall as Tommy pulls himself together.
Eventually, Tommy does pull back. Ren lets him go easily, putting his hands to his sides, trying his best to seem encouraging through facial expression alone. Tommy hesitates. When he next speaks, his question is…
“Can I… pet you? Just this once?” Well, it’s a question Ren should have expected. He sighs, smile coming much easier at such an innocent request. Tommy is far too cute for this world. Nothing could make Ren understand how so many people can see this kid and see a problem, see someone to be hurt and exploited.
He freezes. On one hand, the little part of him that adores every bit of attention Tommy gives him is preening and practically begging for it. On the other hand, Ren specifically hasn’t wanted Tommy to do that because he didn’t want to… to take advantage of Tommy by enjoying it too much.
…but he managed the hug so maybe he can trust himself with this? Just this once? Ren breathes out slowly. Yeah, Ren won’t do anything but sit there. Has he ever done anything more than that?
“I mean- you don’t have to say yes. I just- I wanted to… thank you? And your ears feel nice and I like touching them but you don’t like it so-” Tommy rambles, shying back. Ren shakes his head.
“No, no, it’s… well, it’s not fine but I don’t dislike it. Honestly, I like it a bit too much, pretty sure you don’t need me to tell you that,” Ren laughs a tad self-deprecatingly, “and honestly? This is the worst moment for me to be getting horny. You don’t need to deal with that.”
“That stupid. You never make me deal with it, even when I want to.” Tommy scrunches up his nose. He glares at Ren, cheeks puffed out, far too cute to be intimidating.
“You were the one who said ‘Pet stuff’ wasn’t inherently horny so… stop making such a big deal out of it. So what if you get hard? You can’t stop that and you’re still not going to let me help no matter what. It doesn’t- I’m not-” Tommy huffs, slapping his thigh as he struggles to phrase whatever it is he’s saying.
“I’m not bothered by it because you don’t bother me with it, I guess. So yes or no, can I pet you?” Tommy peers up at him like his words weren’t knives honed specifically to tear Ren’s heart out. How does he even respond to that? It’s just so sweet!
“...Yeah, you can. Do you want me to kneel or is standing good?” Ren gives in just this once. He eyes the office carpet, definitely not the plushest thing in existence but arguably not the worst place he’s ever kneeled.
“Whatever you want.” Tommy shrugs. Completely unhelpful. Ren runs his hand through his hair. Okay, you know what? He’s already allowing this, might as well go the whole nine yards.
Shuffling closer to Tommy, Ren kneels on the carpet. Hands on his thighs, leaning back on his heels, Ren dips his head invitingly. Nothing he could do would stop his tail from wagging in excited expectation so he doesn’t even try.
Tommy’s first touch is tentative, exploring this newly found limit. Careful hands rub at his scalp, tracing the base of one ear, tickingly at the inside. Ren sighs, tension evaporating into air with each glorious brush. Pure contentment fills his head.
All worries and thoughts drift from his mind. Tommy’s other hand comes to join the first, scratching at his scalp, forming patterns of petting that Ren doesn’t even try to follow. He merely presses up into the touch.
It’s a lazy sort of thing, the pleasure that inevitably comes, a soft heat that starts deep in his belly. Every brush stokes it, warming him from his head to his toes. It’s a feeling Ren has craved since the moment he first felt it all those years ago.
Soft, loving, safe- knowing there’s nothing to do and nowhere to be, only the guiding hands he trusts not to lead him astray. There are so few people that Ren trusts to bring him here. He isn’t sure when his Owner- when Tommy entered that part of his heart but he suspects Tommy’s been there for far too long.
“You’re really so cute like this, I wish you’d let me do this for you more often,” Tommy says but Ren hears little of it. He’s certain there’s a compliment wrapped up in there but Tommy just sounds so sad.
Ren whines, leaning forward to rub soothingly against Tommy’s leg- he hopes so anyway. Tommy stiffens, then slowly relaxes, laughing bitterly at himself.
“Right- you don’t, you’re just happy to sit there, huh?” Tommy hums, “Good puppy.” Ren barks, panting happily at the praise. He did a good job! He isn’t sure what he did but it was good!
Minutes pass probably. Ren floats, free of work and expectation. Tommy scratches at his scalp so beautifully, drawing little pleasured sounds from the back of his throat. You’d think that would grow to be overwhelming.
Why would it be though? It’s not that he isn’t aware of his cock, hardening in his pants, straining against the cock ring that’s practically become a permanent accessory. Ren is fully aware of that with each minute shift of Tommy’s hands or his own body.
It’s just… Ren’s not really feeling any of the desperation people usually associate with that kind of stuff, he rarely does like this. Life is far too simple to get so wound up. Sure, he’ll be bothered when he’s inevitably drawn out of this loving haze but that’s for future Ren. Current Ren is enjoying life while he can, simple and understandable.
The sky is blue, grass is green, and Tommy is such a perfect Owner to Ren.
“We need to go back, I think. I can’t really graduate without finishing that meeting. How do I… Ren?” Tommy pushes him off carefully. Ren butts his head up, whining in complaint as the petting stops.
“Come on, we can’t stay out here forever. Focus.” Tommy snaps his fingers in front of Ren’s face. He startles back, eyes shooting up to Tommy’s face, wide with betrayal. Then he blinks.
Once, twice, slowly remembering the administration building’s AC is far too cold and the carpet floor is a lot harder than it looks. He shifts, grimacing at the harsh rub of his jeans over his cock.
“Ren? You back?” Tommy snaps again. Ren scrubs at his face, clawing his way out of sub-space through sheer force of will. He should really teach Tommy about aftercare and stuff, when and how to guide someone out of sub-space. Ren highly doubts anyone else is going to teach him and Tommy’s abusers are definitely into being submissive.
Whether that submissiveness involves sub-space, he can’t say but still, good to teach Tommy a little bit about BDSM for the future. If that future hopefully involves Ren then…
“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry about that, it happens sometimes,” Ren grins up at Tommy. When he stands, it’s a bit difficult, his head not entirely screwed on right. Coming out of sub-space on his own sucks. Ren always feels so… unsteady.
“The meeting? Yeah, let's get back there, I’ll sit next to you if you want,” Ren offers freely, holding out his hand. Tommy smiles, small but pure and cute and Ren- he can’t help but smile back. The warmth in his chest never once wavers.
What can he say? He knows when he’s been a good boy.