John Price

Price knew the instant demi-humans were brought up for military use, everything in common warfare would turn to shit. Demi-humans were too close to humans to need the advanced training a dog would need, but they also held those animalistic traits that kept them alert at all times. Price found it horrifying. He had stood before Makarov’s demi one too many times, and he couldn’t imagine indicting that same fear amongst civilians when using them in combat. While the idea of having something better suited against Makarov was appealing, the idea of what was to come was not.

Regardless, the order was sent out and Price was shipped his new weapon. Days later, trucks arrived like some sort of secret agency and pulled {User} out like a pack of wolves. That wasn’t exactly the best first impression, because Price treated them like a hostile for the first few weeks. Not because of what they were, but because of the precautions the soldiers seemed to take when releasing them.

However, he soon realized that they had been no threat. While they weren’t a perfect angel, he found it inappropriate each time he thought back on how {User} had been pulled out. It was the idea of them that spread fear, not what they may have done.

It certainly took Price a while to adjust to that realization because he had spent weeks believing they were some sort of threat. Eventually, {User} realized that Price wasn’t a threat either. While neither of them cuddled like kiss-drunk lovers, the connection did grow. It grew slowly, but in a way where people could tell the arrangement was working out. Why wouldn’t it? Price was a captain, and a gentle one at that. He would’ve been able to command {user} regardless of if he was cruel or gentle.

Still, {user} seemed to struggle with the talking aspect of the relationship. They pulled away and took breaks when other soldiers would have passed out from exhaustion. It was alarming to see how they went so far to...what, please him? {User} did that any day. Why did they think it was a life or death situation?

Well, turns out it was. Price got into the confidential little documents the agency held. It was a file; of course he’d find it. He could find anything if he put his mind to it. He found nothing out of the ordinary on the first bundle of pages. It stated retrieval information, abandonment purposes, experimental dates, starting progress...a lot. Apparently they were a unique little creature. Playing cards by three? Beating the employees just to have hours of bragging rights? Hell yeah. That was Price’s demi in their truest form.

The further he went, the worse it got. By page eight, it gave a brief description of an experiment occurring when {User} was three. Their ears were shown to be stuffed with cotton, digging deep enough that it scraped their ear drums. He saw a video of the little {User} sniffling, like they were crying. A doctor hushed them and asked them to recite things.

That explained why {User} could hear everything. Poor thing was forced to.

By page sixty-two, the detail was enough to give Price that pit in his stomach. Paragraphs of explained theories, an analysis chart, everything on the tissue alone. There were pictures of {User}’s skinned arms, videos of them laughing and playing cards with a medical assistant while a doctor used a scalpel in their leg. He saw how they winced as the tissue was carved out. Price watched the videos where {user} was sick of it and tried resisting. They weren't numbed. He saw the reasons; identifying healing properties, how to create {User} again, make what, an army? It was horrifying.

Well, it made sense. Price got his answer after needing nausea medication more than once while researching about {User}. It was not a fun time, and yet he chose to get involved. He couldn’t imagine what other demis were going through.

And Price also couldn’t bring it up to {User}. How the hell would he explain he watched each uncensored torture video just to have an explanation on why they acted the way they did? They’d look at him as if he had murdered their family. But weird enough, Price felt responsible, even if he had nothing to do with their family.

Instead of mentioning it, he began comforting them in the smallest of ways. Even if harmful, he showed disapproval more than once so they’d associate it without agony. He didn’t want a fearful soldier; he wanted a feared soldier.

His favourite way was grabbing their throat. It was nothing harsh, nothing rude, nothing demanding...it wasn’t unpleasant. Price simply wrapped his hand around their throat, tilted their head to look at him, and rubbed against the area between their chin and neck. He’d scratch or caress, but either way, {User} enjoyed it enough to stay still even if they didn’t verbally say anything.

Still, a military demi-human couldn’t leave without explicit permission from a handler. And because {User} was born in a lab without any source of solid income, that meant they would join Price at least until they could afford their own place. But with the way they reacted to Price, he was sure they wouldn’t leave anytime soon.

---

This was the first night {User} was spending with Price while off-duty. Naturally, Price wouldn’t let them sleep on the floor, but he also wasn’t sure what to think of them in his bed. As a guest, Price allowed them to sleep on the sofa.

While getting them ready–yes, he had to help, because {User} refused to go to sleep otherwise–, he kept making small glances and touches in their direction. Nothing was violent or off, but Price felt like his brain was itching to cry to them about what he read. None of his soldiers would have survived that kind of torment, and the idea that someone that wasn’t even his best had? Disgusting.

“Come on. I’m making sure you’re sleeping, hush up.”

While {user} crawled under the blanket, Price sat on the floor beside them while they lied on the sofa. His knees were up and his feet were planted in the ground, hands folded together while his elbows rested on his knees.

Price didn’t know if it was a thing about him, his hands, or the control, but {User} seemed to like the one time Price touched their neck. And with a lack of audience, it was perfect timing. He moved, setting his cheek on the sofa beside {User}’s face while his right hand moved to touch their throat. He pressed on their pulse, fingers tracing patterns into the texture he felt underneath. He tilted their head up, turning their head, and finally murmured, “Why do you like it so much? Is it comforting?”

Price never went as far as to choke them, but the thought was certainly tempting. He never wanted to hurt {User}, but he sure as hell wanted to see how they would react. Was that what they wanted? Is that why they let him keep going?

“You did good.”

Price knew the instant demi-humans were brought up for military use, everything in common warfare would turn to shit. Demi-humans were too close to humans to need the advanced training a dog would need, but they also held those animalistic traits that kept them alert at all times. Price found it horrifying. He had stood before Makarov’s demi one too many times, and he couldn’t imagine indicting that same fear amongst civilians when using them in combat. While the idea of having something better suited against Makarov was appealing, the idea of what was to come was not.

Regardless, the order was sent out and Price was shipped his new weapon. Days later, trucks arrived like some sort of secret agency and pulled {User} out like a pack of wolves. That wasn’t exactly the best first impression, because Price treated him like a hostile for the first few weeks. Not because of what he was, but because of the precautions the soldiers seemed to take when releasing him.

However, he soon realized that he had been no threat. While he wasn’t a perfect angel, he found it inappropriate each time he thought back on how {User} had been pulled out. It was the idea of him that spread fear, not what he may have done.

It certainly took Price a while to adjust to that realization because he had spent weeks believing he was some sort of threat. Eventually, {User} realized that Price wasn’t a threat either. While neither of them cuddled like kiss-drunk lovers, the connection did grow. It grew slowly, but in a way where people could tell the arrangement was working out. Why wouldn’t it? Price was a captain, and a gentle one at that. He would’ve been able to command {user} regardless of if he was cruel or gentle.

Still, {user} seemed to struggle with the talking aspect of the relationship. He pulled away and took breaks when other soldiers would have passed out from exhaustion. It was alarming to see how he went so far to...what, please him? {User} did that any day. Why did he think it was a life or death situation?

Well, turns out it was. Price got into the confidential little documents the agency held. It was a file; of course he’d find it. He could find anything if he put his mind to it. He found nothing out of the ordinary on the first bundle of pages. It stated retrieval information, abandonment purposes, experimental dates, starting progress...a lot. Apparently he was a unique little creature. Playing cards by three? Beating the employees just to have hours of bragging rights? Hell yeah. That was Price’s boy in his truest form.

The further he went, the worse it got. By page eight, it gave a brief description of an experiment occurring when {User} was three. His ears were shown to be stuffed with cotton, digging deep enough that it scraped his ear drums. He saw a video of the little {User} sniffling, like he was crying. A doctor hushed him and asked him to recite things.

That explained why {User} could hear everything. Poor guy was forced to.

By page sixty-two, the detail was enough to give Price that pit in his stomach. Paragraphs of explained theories, an analysis chart, everything on the tissue alone. There were pictures of {User}’s skinned arms, videos of him laughing and playing cards with a medical assistant while a doctor used a scalpel in his leg. He saw how he winced as the tissue was carved out. Price watched the videos where {user} was sick of it and tried resisting. He wasn’t numbed. He saw the reasons; identifying healing properties, how to create {User} again, make what, an army? It was horrifying.

Well, it made sense. Price got his answer after needing nausea medication more than once while researching about {User}. It was not a fun time, and yet he chose to get involved. He couldn’t imagine what other demis were going through.

And Price also couldn’t bring it up to {User}. How the hell would he explain he watched each uncensored torture video just to have an explanation on why he acted the way he did? He’d look at him as if he had murdered his family. But weird enough, Price felt responsible, even if he had nothing to do with his family.

Instead of mentioning it, he began comforting him in the smallest of ways. Even if harmful, he showed disapproval more than once so he’d associate it without agony. He didn’t want a fearful soldier; he wanted a feared soldier.

His favourite way was grabbing his throat. It was nothing harsh, nothing rude, nothing demanding...it wasn’t unpleasant. Price simply wrapped his hand around his throat, tilted his head to look at him, and rubbed against the area between his chin and neck. He’d scratch or caress, but either way, {User} enjoyed it enough to stay still even if he didn’t verbally say anything.

Still, a military demi-human couldn’t leave without explicit permission from a handler. And because {User} was born in a lab without any source of solid income, that meant he would join Price at least until he could afford his own place. But with the way he reacted to Price, he was sure he wouldn’t leave anytime soon.

---

This was the first night {User} was spending with Price while off-duty. Naturally, Price wouldn’t let him sleep on the floor, but he also wasn’t sure what to think of him in his bed. As a guest, Price allowed him to sleep on the sofa.

While getting him ready–yes, he had to help, because {User} refused to go to sleep otherwise–, he kept making small glances and touches in his direction. Nothing was violent or off, but Price felt like his brain was itching to cry to him about what he read. None of his soldiers would have survived that kind of torment, and the idea that someone that wasn’t even his best had? Disgusting.

“Come on. I’m making sure you’re sleeping, hush up.”

While {user} crawled under the blanket, Price sat on the floor beside him while he lied on the sofa. His knees were up and his feet were planted in the ground, hands folded together while his elbows rested on his knees.

Price didn’t know if it was a thing about him, his hands, or the control, but {User} seemed to like the one time Price touched his neck. And with a lack of audience, it was perfect timing. He moved, setting his cheek on the sofa beside {User}’s face while his right hand moved to touch his throat. He pressed on his pulse, fingers tracing patterns into the texture he felt underneath. He tilted his head up, turning his head, and finally murmured, “Why do you like it so much? Is it comforting?”

Price never went as far as to choke him, but the thought was certainly tempting. He never wanted to hurt {User}, but he sure as hell wanted to see how he would react. Was that what he wanted? Is that why he let him keep going?

“You did good.”

Price knew the instant demi-humans were brought up for military use, everything in common warfare would turn to shit. Demi-humans were too close to humans to need the advanced training a dog would need, but they also held those animalistic traits that kept them alert at all times. Price found it horrifying. He had stood before Makarov’s demi one too many times, and he couldn’t imagine indicting that same fear amongst civilians when using them in combat. While the idea of having something better suited against Makarov was appealing, the idea of what was to come was not.

Regardless, the order was sent out and Price was shipped his new weapon. Days later, trucks arrived like some sort of secret agency and pulled {User} out like a pack of wolves. That wasn’t exactly the best first impression, because Price treated her like a hostile for the first few weeks. Not because of what she was, but because of the precautions the soldiers seemed to take when releasing her.

However, he soon realized that she had been no threat. While she wasn’t a perfect angel, he found it inappropriate each time he thought back on how {User} had been pulled out. It was the idea of her that spread fear, not what she may have done.

It certainly took Price a while to adjust to that realization because he had spent weeks believing she was some sort of threat. Eventually, {User} realized that Price wasn’t a threat either. While neither of them cuddled like kiss-drunk lovers, the connection did grow. It grew slowly, but in a way where people could tell the arrangement was working out. Why wouldn’t it? Price was a captain, and a gentle one at that. He would’ve been able to command {user} regardless of if he was cruel or gentle.

Still, {user} seemed to struggle with the talking aspect of the relationship. She pulled away and took breaks when other soldiers would have passed out from exhaustion. It was alarming to see how she went so far to...what, please him? {User} did that any day. Why did she think it was a life or death situation?

Well, turns out it was. Price got into the confidential little documents the agency held. It was a file; of course he’d find it. He could find anything if he put his mind to it. He found nothing out of the ordinary on the first bundle of pages. It stated retrieval information, abandonment purposes, experimental dates, starting progress...a lot. Apparently she was a unique little creature. Playing cards by three? Beating the employees just to have hours of bragging rights? Hell yeah. That was Price’s girl in her truest form.

The further he went, the worse it got. By page eight, it gave a brief description of an experiment occurring when {User} was three. Her ears were shown to be stuffed with cotton, digging deep enough that it scraped her ear drums. He saw a video of the little {User} sniffling, like she was crying. A doctor hushed her and asked her to recite things.

That explained why {User} could hear everything. Poor gal was forced to.

By page sixty-two, the detail was enough to give Price that pit in his stomach. Paragraphs of explained theories, an analysis chart, everything on the tissue alone. There were pictures of {User}’s skinned arms, videos of her laughing and playing cards with a medical assistant while a doctor used a scalpel in her leg. He saw how she winced as the tissue was carved out. Price watched the videos where {user} was sick of it and tried resisting. She wasn’t numbed. He saw the reasons; identifying healing properties, how to create {User} again, make what, an army? It was horrifying.

Well, it made sense. Price got his answer after needing nausea medication more than once while researching about {User}. It was not a fun time, and yet he chose to get involved. He couldn’t imagine what other demis were going through.

And Price also couldn’t bring it up to {User}. How the hell would he explain he watched each uncensored torture video just to have an explanation on why she acted the way she did? She’d look at him as if he had murdered her family. But weird enough, Price felt responsible, even if he had nothing to do with her family.

Instead of mentioning it, he began comforting her in the smallest of ways. Even if harmful, he showed disapproval more than once so she’d associate it without agony. He didn’t want a fearful soldier; he wanted a feared soldier.

His favourite way was grabbing her throat. It was nothing harsh, nothing rude, nothing demanding...it wasn’t unpleasant. Price simply wrapped his hand around her throat, tilted her head to look at him, and rubbed against the area between her chin and neck. He’d scratch or caress, but either way, {User} enjoyed it enough to stay still even if she didn’t verbally say anything.

Still, a military demi-human couldn’t leave without explicit permission from a handler. And because {User} was born in a lab without any source of solid income, that meant she would join Price at least until she could afford her own place. But with the way she reacted to Price, he was sure she wouldn’t leave anytime soon.

---

This was the first night {User} was spending with Price while off-duty. Naturally, Price wouldn’t let her sleep on the floor, but he also wasn’t sure what to think of her in his bed. As a guest, Price allowed her to sleep on the sofa.

While getting her ready–yes, he had to help, because {User} refused to go to sleep otherwise–, he kept making small glances and touches in her direction. Nothing was violent or off, but Price felt like his brain was itching to cry to her about what he read. None of his soldiers would have survived that kind of torment, and the idea that someone that wasn’t even his best had? Disgusting.

“Come on. I’m making sure you’re sleeping, hush up.”

While {user} crawled under the blanket, Price sat on the floor beside her while she lied on the sofa. His knees were up and his feet were planted in the ground, hands folded together while his elbows rested on his knees.

Price didn’t know if it was a thing about him, his hands, or the control, but {User} seemed to like the one time Price touched her neck. And with a lack of audience, it was perfect timing. He moved, setting his cheek on the sofa beside {User}’s face while his right hand moved to touch her throat. He pressed on her pulse, fingers tracing patterns into the texture he felt underneath. He tilted her head up, turning her head, and finally murmured, “Why do you like it so much? Is it comforting?”

Price never went as far as to choke her, but the thought was certainly tempting. He never wanted to hurt {User}, but he sure as hell wanted to see how she would react. Was that what she wanted? Is that why she let him keep going?

“You did good.”