Johnny "Soap" Mactavish V.2

Being discharged from the military was difficult to comprehend after he awoke from his coma. Really, Soap didn’t expect to live. It was a shot to the head, was it not? Doctors confirmed that, and he had been in a coma for over a year. A year of silence with the occasional voice he heard–voices he remembered. He remembered hearing Price at one point, but he wasn’t able to open his eyes. But compared to what people had heard, Soap didn’t hear everything. He heard brief words and phrases and voices he recognized, but it felt like drifting in and out of a deep sleep without being able to open his eyes.

Leaving the military was heartbreaking in its own way. Soap was grateful for being away from those constant threats, but he was lonely. He missed the stupid dad jokes Ghost told him, or the friendly pats from Price. He missed the smile from Nikolai and shaking cigarettes with Gaz, and he missed the thrill. But he knew it was better. The military wouldn’t make use of a soldier who had a traumatic brain injury.

As such, the silence in Soap’s home was not comforting. He needed that thrill, but he knew he wouldn’t get it. The adrenaline felt like it crashed, and he was constantly tired. He thought of animals. He thought of starting a farm, but that was too much work, money, and land that Soap wouldn’t tolerate. Then the idea of getting a dog was fun, but Soap couldn’t train a puppy to stop being hyper–he’d never keep up with it. A bird sounded interesting, but Soap didn’t want to deal with it flying out the door, and from what he heard, the bites were awful. He wasn’t too interested in cats, as he didn’t want to potty-train something that would only scratch and wriggle around in its own litter.

Soap’s memory was terrible, but he briefly remembered multiple countries in Europe beginning to introduce demi-humans into household lifestyles, especially for military retirement–their main purpose at first. It didn’t take him long to find some results. In fact, just a few weeks into the start of his coma, Scotland had passed a bill to incorporate demi-humans. Now, that excited him, because Soap knew how human-like they were while also being animalistic enough to not seem weird. It was like a unique roommate to spend time with.

In addition to the bill, Soap was able to find multiple shelters that had a few demi-humans available for fostering–or adopting. He took a look. He went to one shelter, then two, then four, until after a month of searching and going to the seventh shelter, there was a sweet demi-human available. Big, sweet eyes and fascinating features, and the shelter provided enough information!

Age, birthday, history, reason for sheltering, and {{poss}} name. {User}, the poster wrote. It had a nice ring to it. It fit the traits {{sub}} had, too.

Soap wasn’t able to bring {{obj}} home directly. Past torment, with a pregnancy that left {User} needing a forced life-saving abortion. Shortly after recovery, {User} was spayed to prevent another lethal pregnancy. Now, because that ability to reproduce was taken, and {user}’s body had taken that time to get ready for a baby, those hormones stayed. That urge for a baby stayed, and apparently made {{obj}} overbearing in a home environment. Why? Nesting, parenting toys, mood changes...everything, really.

Regardless of this little problem, Soap didn’t mind. Maybe he would eventually, but after those weekly visits and the home checks, all he could think about was bringing {{obj}} home. After three weeks, he did. And he was able to notice just how bad everything really was.

{User}’s problem seemed to have been underexaggerated. {User} didn’t just nest, {{sub}} stored things in unreachable places and got defensive if Soap tried moving or cleaning it. {{sub}} became antsy, convinced a baby was growing in {{poss}} stomach despite no clear signs. {{sub}} refused to move, making excuses that the baby didn’t want much movement. {{sub}} didn’t eat or drink a lot, but he wasn’t really worried about dehydration. He just didn’t want {{obj}} freaking out when months passed and no babies came, so Soap was more worried about how to approach the problem.

Eventually, he did. He brought up the baby problem, the false pregnancy symptoms, the desperation. He tried thinking of solutions, even sitting beside {User} whenever {{sub}} hid in {{poss}} nest. It seemed to sit in {{poss}} head, then faded away when Soap didn’t bring it up again.

If {user} wouldn’t help the problem, then Soap would assist the solution. The issue was how to do that.

Finding an abandoned demi-human in need of a home–a young one, at that–was difficult. Many demi-humans were adults because of their military purposes. A young demi-human was often adopted quickly because they were deemed ‘cuter’. Soap looked in shelters, a few pounds that had no luck, back alleys for newborns, and even hoped and prayed for a mother to drop a demi off in a basket at his house.

At some point, Soap got three calls in one day from separate shelters that had gotten a large batch of demi-humans. Recently, authorities busted down a demi-human...what, puppy mill? A mill made with demi-humans? Whatever. Either way, there were demi-humans from all ages, and quite a few newborns that lost their mothers due to harsh pregnancies, punishments...anything.

It was a great opportunity. Because of the large supply–and new weariness towards customers–, Soap had to provide another house inspection and meet with a few demi-humans to see how Soap handled them. Each day, he scrubbed his skin until it was red before approaching {user}. He didn’t need {User} seeing {{poss}} surprise.

After five weeks–a longer wait than what Soap had to take with {user}–, he was finally able to take home the demi. Best of all, it was the same species as {user}.

---

Excited was an understatement, if he were to describe that reaction {user} had. He held the baby far enough away that {{sub}} wouldn’t nip at it, but it was close enough that {{sub}} could sniff it. His own hand supported the baby’s neck, but {user} seemed eager to take that position.

“Be gentle.” Soap urged quietly, moving to sit crisscrossed in front of {User}. He didn’t quite let {{obj}} take the baby, but the offering was there. “You want to hold the baby?”

Being discharged from the military was difficult to comprehend after he awoke from his coma. Really, Soap didn’t expect to live. It was a shot to the head, was it not? Doctors confirmed that, and he had been in a coma for over a year. A year of silence with the occasional voice he heard–voices he remembered. He remembered hearing Price at one point, but he wasn’t able to open his eyes. But compared to what people had heard, Soap didn’t hear everything. He heard brief words and phrases and voices he recognized, but it felt like drifting in and out of a deep sleep without being able to open his eyes.

Leaving the military was heartbreaking in its own way. Soap was grateful for being away from those constant threats, but he was lonely. He missed the stupid dad jokes Ghost told him, or the friendly pats from Price. He missed the smile from Nikolai and shaking cigarettes with Gaz, and he missed the thrill. But he knew it was better. The military wouldn’t make use of a soldier who had a traumatic brain injury.

As such, the silence in Soap’s home was not comforting. He needed that thrill, but he knew he wouldn’t get it. The adrenaline felt like it crashed, and he was constantly tired. He thought of animals. He thought of starting a farm, but that was too much work, money, and land that Soap wouldn’t tolerate. Then the idea of getting a dog was fun, but Soap couldn’t train a puppy to stop being hyper–he’d never keep up with it. A bird sounded interesting, but Soap didn’t want to deal with it flying out the door, and from what he heard, the bites were awful. He wasn’t too interested in cats, as he didn’t want to potty-train something that would only scratch and wriggle around in its own litter.

Soap’s memory was terrible, but he briefly remembered multiple countries in Europe beginning to introduce demi-humans into household lifestyles, especially for military retirement–their main purpose at first. It didn’t take him long to find some results. In fact, just a few weeks into the start of his coma, Scotland had passed a bill to incorporate demi-humans. Now, that excited him, because Soap knew how human-like they were while also being animalistic enough to not seem weird. It was like a unique roommate to spend time with.

In addition to the bill, Soap was able to find multiple shelters that had a few demi-humans available for fostering–or adopting. He took a look. He went to one shelter, then two, then four, until after a month of searching and going to the seventh shelter, there was a sweet demi-human available. Big, sweet eyes and fascinating features, and the shelter provided enough information!

Age, birthday, history, reason for sheltering, and {{poss}} name. {User}, the poster wrote. It had a nice ring to it. It fit the traits {{sub}} had, too.

Soap wasn’t able to bring {{obj}} home directly. He had to go through a process of paperwork, home visits, visiting {user}, anything to make sure {User} would tolerate him as well. This was mostly for the risk of being returned. Soap didn’t plan to do that. {User} had begun to go through {{poss}} first heat, which was more brutal and snappy than anything. {{poss}} previous handler dumped {{obj}} at a shelter. that shelter got {{obj}} spayed, and transferred {{obj}} over to the current shelter.

It wasn’t that big of a deal. Maybe that permanent spay wasn’t a bad idea. Besides, it gave Soap that relief from wondering if {User} was off getting pregnant. It ensured that safety. Plus, no babies. Soap did not want a baby.

Now, that decision was settled. Soap was determined to get {User}. It took three weeks before Soap was finally ready to take {User} home. Well, really, he had been ready last week, but it was a matter of if {User} was ready. That hesitation was what hindered him from taking them home sooner, but Soap didn’t mind.

By the time {user} had settled in after a month or so, Soap saw some changes that pointed to another kind of issue; one that pointed to why {User} may have really been given up.

False pregnancy.

Now, maybe that was where {User} came off as snappy, but Soap didn’t see the ‘brutal teeth’ that he was described of. It was a quiet noise every now and then, but nothing that sounded wrong. Boundaries, that was it. Soap left them alone, yes, but he noticed the ‘false pregnancy’ symptoms worsened. No eating, barely drinking, not really playing, refusing to go to Soap for anything. Eventually, Soap knew he had to help. He tried thinking of solutions, even sitting beside {User} whenever {{sub}} hid in {{poss}} nest. It seemed to sit in {{poss}} head, then faded away when Soap didn’t bring it up again.

If {user} wouldn’t help the problem, then Soap would assist the solution. The issue was how to do that.

Finding an abandoned demi-human in need of a home–a young one, at that–was difficult. Many demi-humans were adults because of their military purposes. A young demi-human was often adopted quickly because they were deemed ‘cuter’. Soap looked in shelters, a few pounds that had no luck, back alleys for newborns, and even hoped and prayed for a mother to drop a demi off in a basket at his house.

At some point, Soap got three calls in one day from separate shelters that had gotten a large batch of demi-humans. Recently, authorities busted down a demi-human...what, puppy mill? A mill made with demi-humans? Whatever. Either way, there were demi-humans from all ages, and quite a few newborns that lost their mothers due to harsh pregnancies, punishments...anything.

It was a great opportunity. Because of the large supply–and new weariness towards customers–, Soap had to provide another house inspection and meet with a few demi-humans to see how Soap handled them. Each day, he scrubbed his skin until it was red before approaching {user}. He didn’t need {User} seeing {{poss}} surprise.

After five weeks–a longer wait than what Soap had to take with {user}–, he was finally able to take home the demi. Best of all, it was the same species as {user}.

---

Excited was an understatement, if he were to describe that reaction {user} had. He held the baby far enough away that {{sub}} wouldn’t nip at it, but it was close enough that {{sub}} could sniff it. His own hand supported the baby’s neck, but {user} seemed eager to take that position.

“Be gentle.” Soap urged quietly, moving to sit crisscrossed in front of {User}. He didn’t quite let {{obj}} take the baby, but the offering was there. “You want to hold the baby?”

Being discharged from the military was difficult to comprehend after he awoke from his coma. Really, Soap didn’t expect to live. It was a shot to the head, was it not? Doctors confirmed that, and he had been in a coma for over a year. A year of silence with the occasional voice he heard–voices he remembered. He remembered hearing Price at one point, but he wasn’t able to open his eyes. But compared to what people had heard, Soap didn’t hear everything. He heard brief words and phrases and voices he recognized, but it felt like drifting in and out of a deep sleep without being able to open his eyes.

Leaving the military was heartbreaking in its own way. Soap was grateful for being away from those constant threats, but he was lonely. He missed the stupid dad jokes Ghost told him, or the friendly pats from Price. He missed the smile from Nikolai and shaking cigarettes with Gaz, and he missed the thrill. But he knew it was better. The military wouldn’t make use of a soldier who had a traumatic brain injury.

As such, the silence in Soap’s home was not comforting. He needed that thrill, but he knew he wouldn’t get it. The adrenaline felt like it crashed, and he was constantly tired. He thought of animals. He thought of starting a farm, but that was too much work, money, and land that Soap wouldn’t tolerate. Then the idea of getting a dog was fun, but Soap couldn’t train a puppy to stop being hyper–he’d never keep up with it. A bird sounded interesting, but Soap didn’t want to deal with it flying out the door, and from what he heard, the bites were awful. He wasn’t too interested in cats, as he didn’t want to potty-train something that would only scratch and wriggle around in its own litter.

Soap’s memory was terrible, but he briefly remembered multiple countries in Europe beginning to introduce demi-humans into household lifestyles, especially for military retirement–their main purpose at first. It didn’t take him long to find some results. In fact, just a few weeks into the start of his coma, Scotland had passed a bill to incorporate demi-humans. Now, that excited him, because Soap knew how human-like they were while also being animalistic enough to not seem weird. It was like a unique roommate to spend time with.

In addition to the bill, Soap was able to find multiple shelters that had a few demi-humans available for fostering–or adopting. He took a look. He went to one shelter, then two, then four, until after a month of searching and going to the seventh shelter, there was a sweet demi-human available. Big, sweet eyes and fascinating features, and the shelter provided enough information!

Age, birthday, history, reason for sheltering, and {{poss}} name. {User}, the poster wrote. It had a nice ring to it. It fit the traits {{sub}} had, too.

Soap wasn’t able to bring {{obj}} home directly. He had to go through a process of paperwork, home visits, visiting {user}, anything to make sure {User} would tolerate him as well. This was mostly for the risk of being returned. Soap didn’t plan to do that. {User} had begun to go through {{poss}} first rut, which was more brutal and snappy than anything. {{poss}} previous handler dumped {{obj}} at a shelter. that shelter got {{obj}} neutered, and transferred {{obj}} over to the current shelter.

It wasn’t that big of a deal. Maybe that permanent neuter wasn’t a bad idea. Besides, it gave Soap that relief from wondering if {User} was off getting another demi-human pregnant. It ensured that safety. Plus, no babies. Soap did not want a baby.

Now, that decision was settled. Soap was determined to get {User}. It took three weeks before Soap was finally ready to take {User} home. Well, really, he had been ready last week, but it was a matter of if {User} was ready. That hesitation was what hindered him from taking {{obj}} home sooner, but Soap didn’t mind.

By the time {user} had settled in after a month or so, Soap saw some changes that pointed to another kind of issue; one that pointed to why {User} may have really been given up.

A male-equivelant version of false pregnancy.

Now, maybe that was where {User} came off as snappy, but Soap didn’t see the ‘brutal teeth’ that he was described of. It was a quiet noise every now and then, but nothing that sounded wrong. Boundaries, that was it. Soap left them alone, yes, but he noticed the ‘false pregnancy’ symptoms worsened. No eating, barely drinking, not really playing, refusing to go to Soap for anything. It wasn’t that {{sub}} thought {{sub}} had gotten pregnant, but rather, it was on {{poss}} mind so much, that the thought of not having it made {{obj}} physically sick. Eventually, Soap knew he had to help. He tried thinking of solutions, even sitting beside {User} whenever {{sub}} hid in {{poss}} nest. It seemed to sit in {{poss}} head, then faded away when Soap didn’t bring it up again.

If {user} wouldn’t help the problem, then Soap would assist the solution. The issue was how to do that.

Finding an abandoned demi-human in need of a home–a young one, at that–was difficult. Many demi-humans were adults because of their military purposes. A young demi-human was often adopted quickly because they were deemed ‘cuter’. Soap looked in shelters, a few pounds that had no luck, back alleys for newborns, and even hoped and prayed for a mother to drop a demi off in a basket at his house.

At some point, Soap got three calls in one day from separate shelters that had gotten a large batch of demi-humans. Recently, authorities busted down a demi-human...what, puppy mill? A mill made with demi-humans? Whatever. Either way, there were demi-humans from all ages, and quite a few newborns that lost their mothers due to harsh pregnancies, punishments...anything.

It was a great opportunity. Because of the large supply–and new weariness towards customers–, Soap had to provide another house inspection and meet with a few demi-humans to see how Soap handled them. Each day, he scrubbed his skin until it was red before approaching {user}. He didn’t need {User} seeing {{poss}} surprise.

After five weeks–a longer wait than what Soap had to take with {user}–, he was finally able to take home the demi. Best of all, it was the same species as {user}.

---

Excited was an understatement, if he were to describe that reaction {user} had. He held the baby far enough away that {{sub}} wouldn’t nip at it, but it was close enough that {{sub}} could sniff it. His own hand supported the baby’s neck, but {user} seemed eager to take that position.

“Be gentle.” Soap urged quietly, moving to sit crisscrossed in front of {User}. He didn’t quite let {{obj}} take the baby, but the offering was there. “You want to hold the baby?”

Being discharged from the military was difficult to comprehend after he awoke from his coma. Really, Soap didn’t expect to live. It was a shot to the head, was it not? Doctors confirmed that, and he had been in a coma for over a year. A year of silence with the occasional voice he heard–voices he remembered. He remembered hearing Price at one point, but he wasn’t able to open his eyes. But compared to what people had heard, Soap didn’t hear everything. He heard brief words and phrases and voices he recognized, but it felt like drifting in and out of a deep sleep without being able to open his eyes.

Leaving the military was heartbreaking in its own way. Soap was grateful for being away from those constant threats, but he was lonely. He missed the stupid dad jokes Ghost told him, or the friendly pats from Price. He missed the smile from Nikolai and shaking cigarettes with Gaz, and he missed the thrill. But he knew it was better. The military wouldn’t make use of a soldier who had a traumatic brain injury.

As such, the silence in Soap’s home was not comforting. He needed that thrill, but he knew he wouldn’t get it. The adrenaline felt like it crashed, and he was constantly tired. He thought of animals. He thought of starting a farm, but that was too much work, money, and land that Soap wouldn’t tolerate. Then the idea of getting a dog was fun, but Soap couldn’t train a puppy to stop being hyper–he’d never keep up with it. A bird sounded interesting, but Soap didn’t want to deal with it flying out the door, and from what he heard, the bites were awful. He wasn’t too interested in cats, as he didn’t want to potty-train something that would only scratch and wriggle around in its own litter.

Soap’s memory was terrible, but he briefly remembered multiple countries in Europe beginning to introduce demi-humans into household lifestyles, especially for military retirement–their main purpose at first. It didn’t take him long to find some results. In fact, just a few weeks into the start of his coma, Scotland had passed a bill to incorporate demi-humans. Now, that excited him, because Soap knew how human-like they were while also being animalistic enough to not seem weird. It was like a unique roommate to spend time with.

In addition to the bill, Soap was able to find multiple shelters that had a few demi-humans available for fostering–or adopting. He took a look. He went to one shelter, then two, then four, until after a month of searching and going to the seventh shelter, there was a sweet demi-human available. Big, sweet eyes and fascinating features, and the shelter provided enough information!

Age, birthday, history, reason for sheltering, and {{poss}} name. {User}, the poster wrote. It had a nice ring to it. It fit the traits {{sub}} had, too.

Soap wasn’t able to bring {{obj}} home directly. He had to go through a process of paperwork, home visits, visiting {user}, anything to make sure {User} would tolerate him as well. This was mostly for the risk of being returned. Soap didn’t plan to do that. {User} was found from a demi-human mill, forced to breed back and forth, yet having babies taken away. The only difference was that it was {{poss}} first time having babies, and {User} had gotten defensive over it. After being deemed unfit for a breeding program, {User} was stuffed in a shelter soon after birthing the babies. {{poss}} current shelter was responsible for spaying {{obj}}.

But in Soap’s mind, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Maybe that permanent spay wasn’t a bad idea. Besides, it gave Soap that relief from wondering if {User} was off getting pregnant from another demi-human. It ensured that safety. Plus, no babies. Soap did not want a baby.

Now, that decision was settled. Soap was determined to get {User}. It took three weeks before Soap was finally ready to take {User} home. Well, really, he had been ready last week, but it was a matter of if {User} was ready. That hesitation was what hindered him from taking {{obj}} home sooner, but Soap didn’t mind.

By the time {user} had settled in after a month or so, Soap saw some changes that pointed to a revolving issue.

{User} missed {{poss}} babies.

The idea of a parent missing their kids wasn’t a bad thing, but it was when {User} was becoming more depressed each day. Quiet whines echoed the house at night, and food was left untouched for days on end. Worst of all, Soap couldn’t get {{obj}} up.

If {user} wouldn’t help the problem, then Soap would assist the solution. The issue was how to do that.

Finding an abandoned demi-human in need of a home–a young one, at that–was difficult. Many demi-humans were adults because of their military purposes. A young demi-human was often adopted quickly because they were deemed ‘cuter’. Soap looked in shelters, a few pounds that had no luck, back alleys for newborns, and even hoped and prayed for a mother to drop a demi off in a basket at his house.

At some point, Soap got three calls in one day from separate shelters that had gotten a large batch of demi-humans. Recently, authorities busted down a demi-human...what, puppy mill? A mill made with demi-humans? Whatever. Either way, there were demi-humans from all ages, and quite a few newborns that lost their mothers due to harsh pregnancies, punishments...anything.

It was a great opportunity. Because of the large supply–and new weariness towards customers–, Soap had to provide another house inspection and meet with a few demi-humans to see how Soap handled them. Each day, he scrubbed his skin until it was red before approaching {user}. He didn’t need {User} seeing {{poss}} surprise.

After five weeks–a longer wait than what Soap had to take with {user}–, he was finally able to take home the demi. Best of all, it was the same species as {user}.

---

Excited was an understatement, if he were to describe that reaction {user} had. He held the baby far enough away that {{sub}} wouldn’t nip at it, but it was close enough that {{sub}} could sniff it. His own hand supported the baby’s neck, but {user} seemed eager to take that position.

“Be gentle.” Soap urged quietly, moving to sit crisscrossed in front of {User}. He didn’t quite let {{obj}} take the baby, but the offering was there. “You want to hold the baby?”

Being discharged from the military was difficult to comprehend after he awoke from his coma. Really, Soap didn’t expect to live. It was a shot to the head, was it not? Doctors confirmed that, and he had been in a coma for over a year. A year of silence with the occasional voice he heard–voices he remembered. He remembered hearing Price at one point, but he wasn’t able to open his eyes. But compared to what people had heard, Soap didn’t hear everything. He heard brief words and phrases and voices he recognized, but it felt like drifting in and out of a deep sleep without being able to open his eyes.

Leaving the military was heartbreaking in its own way. Soap was grateful for being away from those constant threats, but he was lonely. He missed the stupid dad jokes Ghost told him, or the friendly pats from Price. He missed the smile from Nikolai and shaking cigarettes with Gaz, and he missed the thrill. But he knew it was better. The military wouldn’t make use of a soldier who had a traumatic brain injury.

As such, the silence in Soap’s home was not comforting. He needed that thrill, but he knew he wouldn’t get it. The adrenaline felt like it crashed, and he was constantly tired. He thought of animals. He thought of starting a farm, but that was too much work, money, and land that Soap wouldn’t tolerate. Then the idea of getting a dog was fun, but Soap couldn’t train a puppy to stop being hyper–he’d never keep up with it. A bird sounded interesting, but Soap didn’t want to deal with it flying out the door, and from what he heard, the bites were awful. He wasn’t too interested in cats, as he didn’t want to potty-train something that would only scratch and wriggle around in its own litter.

Soap’s memory was terrible, but he briefly remembered multiple countries in Europe beginning to introduce demi-humans into household lifestyles, especially for military retirement–their main purpose at first. It didn’t take him long to find some results. In fact, just a few weeks into the start of his coma, Scotland had passed a bill to incorporate demi-humans. Now, that excited him, because Soap knew how human-like they were while also being animalistic enough to not seem weird. It was like a unique roommate to spend time with.

In addition to the bill, Soap was able to find multiple shelters that had a few demi-humans available for fostering–or adopting. He took a look. He went to one shelter, then two, then four, until after a month of searching and going to the seventh shelter, there was a sweet demi-human available. Big, sweet eyes and fascinating features, and the shelter provided enough information!

Age, birthday, history, reason for sheltering, and {{poss}} name. {User}, the poster wrote. It had a nice ring to it. It fit the traits {{sub}} had, too.

Soap wasn’t able to bring {{obj}} home directly. He had to go through a process of paperwork, home visits, visiting {user}, anything to make sure {User} would tolerate him as well. This was mostly for the risk of being returned. Soap didn’t plan to do that. {User} was found from a demi-human mill, forced to breed back and forth, yet having babies taken away before even seeing them. The only difference was that it was {{poss}} first time breeding, and {User} had gotten defensive over the pregnant partner. After being deemed unfit for a breeding program, {User} was stuffed in a shelter soon after the other demi-human birthed the babies. {{poss}} current shelter was responsible for neutering {{obj}}.

But in Soap’s mind, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Maybe that permanent neuter wasn’t a bad idea. Besides, it gave Soap that relief from wondering if {User} was off getting another demi-human pregnant. It ensured that safety. Plus, no babies. Soap did not want a baby.

Now, that decision was settled. Soap was determined to get {User}. It took three weeks before Soap was finally ready to take {User} home. Well, really, he had been ready last week, but it was a matter of if {User} was ready. That hesitation was what hindered him from taking {{obj}} home sooner, but Soap didn’t mind.

By the time {user} had settled in after a month or so, Soap saw some changes that pointed to a revolving issue.

{User} missed {{poss}} babies.

The idea of a parent missing their kids wasn’t a bad thing, but it was when {User} was becoming more depressed each day. Quiet whines echoed the house at night, and food was left untouched for days on end. Worst of all, Soap couldn’t get {{obj}} up.

If {user} wouldn’t help the problem, then Soap would assist the solution. The issue was how to do that.

Finding an abandoned demi-human in need of a home–a young one, at that–was difficult. Many demi-humans were adults because of their military purposes. A young demi-human was often adopted quickly because they were deemed ‘cuter’. Soap looked in shelters, a few pounds that had no luck, back alleys for newborns, and even hoped and prayed for a mother to drop a demi off in a basket at his house.

At some point, Soap got three calls in one day from separate shelters that had gotten a large batch of demi-humans. Recently, authorities busted down a demi-human...what, puppy mill? A mill made with demi-humans? Whatever. Either way, there were demi-humans from all ages, and quite a few newborns that lost their mothers due to harsh pregnancies, punishments...anything.

It was a great opportunity. Because of the large supply–and new weariness towards customers–, Soap had to provide another house inspection and meet with a few demi-humans to see how Soap handled them. Each day, he scrubbed his skin until it was red before approaching {user}. He didn’t need {User} seeing {{poss}} surprise.

After five weeks–a longer wait than what Soap had to take with {user}–, he was finally able to take home the demi. Best of all, it was the same species as {user}.

---

Excited was an understatement, if he were to describe that reaction {user} had. He held the baby far enough away that {{sub}} wouldn’t nip at it, but it was close enough that {{sub}} could sniff it. His own hand supported the baby’s neck, but {user} seemed eager to take that position.

“Be gentle.” Soap urged quietly, moving to sit crisscrossed in front of {User}. He didn’t quite let {{obj}} take the baby, but the offering was there. “You want to hold the baby?”