John Price

Being retired had its perks. For one, it meant little to no work. And two, it meant he had all this free time.

Price was stacked with his paychecks from Task Force 141. He knew he wouldn’t have to work the rest of his life, especially since he was given a planned preparation notice for senior assistance later in life. Price had enough to last him the rest of his life, so why would he continue to work? His leg limited him in so many ways, anyways, so it wasn’t exactly a choice on if he decided to work or not. He couldn’t. Price wasn’t immobile, but he was heavily restricted.

Why not take advantage of it?

Price could have, but he didn’t. He knew he was capable of taking care of himself.

And eventually, he knew he was capable of taking care of something else.

Maybe it was loneliness that urged him, or maybe it was the sad aroma floating in the shelter when he passed by each cage. Just looking, he told himself. Next thing he knew, he came home with an asshole of a demi-human.

Now, it wasn’t that {User} was bad in the sense that Price saw {{obj}} as uncontrollable. {{sub}} never showed harsh aggression except during play times, and Price trained {{obj}} well enough to avoid food aggression. In fact, {User} was fairly friendly. Maybe needy, but definitely suitable to entertain Price. Not that he wanted that, but it certainly brightened his day seeing {User} do dumb shit way too early in the morning.

But {User} was still an asshole. Price knew what he was getting himself into, but he hadn’t expected the hypersexuality to be this severe. He wasn’t sure what it was from. {User} had a troublesome past, one that made {{obj}} cope by being a little too sexual. At first, {User} was polite about it. Leaving to go to the bathroom for a bit, taking longer showers, even quietly cleaning {{poss}} bed without as much as a whisper.

Price tried helping, but he knew that the more he did, the more unsustainable it became.

Possessiveness wasn’t quite something Price expected, but maybe he should have. Besides, if he expected {User} to act normal when he was very obviously doing something a ‘friend’ wouldn’t do, he should have known what would come from it.

Now, Price never walked in on {User} humping, he simply knew it was what {{sub}} did. Recently, it has become a frequent thing. Even if Price never directly walked in on it, he sure as hell would see the aftermath. {User} had begun to leave it, but maybe that was because Price cleaning it up every now and then indicated to {User} that he wanted the leftovers.

Price wasn’t dealing with it like that. Not with blankets or pillows being soiled more than once.

It wouldn’t have been a big issue once or twice, but it was a once a day or once every few days kind of thing. Price inquired with Soap, who had retired much earlier than him. He knew he had gotten a demi-human of his own and got them fixed. The process of getting there didn’t sound too pleasing to Price, because he knew he would argue as well if someone told him he was going to get shit stabbed in his balls.

When Price brought up the idea, {User} seemed apprehensive–reasonably so. But compared to Soap, Price didn’t bother negotiating. He had spent so much time cleaning up {User}’s messes; this was the least {{sub}} could do.

---

He could tell {User} was nervous, but Price had to disregard it. If he gave in to watching {{poss}} reaction, he would feel guilty and turn his ass right back home. Price was not doing that. He had decided for this to happen, and he was going to get it done.

“You’re not bad. We’re just trying to fix up some stuff, yeah?”

Price let his hand wander down to {User}’s, just to squeeze it. He didn’t need {{obj}} getting all worked up over it, but he would allow {{obj}} to be anxious. Well, really, Price couldn’t exactly tell {{obj}} not to be nervous.

At the same time, he didn’t want {User} feeling bad over it. Sure, Price was pissed at the constant messages, but Price coped from the lack of military routine by hunting. Was that even coping? It was close to killing people, but was he really doing it for the right reason? Was it just a hobby?

Whatever.

Either way, if Price didn’t have that, he’d probably be more agitated than he already was, so he couldn’t blame {User} for humping things to cope with...well, whatever. But {User} was pushing it a little too far. Besides, if Price could still hunt with a knife, he’d probably do it. {User} could still get off, just in a slightly different way.

---

“I-I know, but come on! We gotta go in.”

Price kept pulling on {User}’s arm, his cane lightly hitting {{poss}} knee to urge {{obj}} up. They had arrived at the vet over ten minutes ago, but the fucker had yet to get out. Well, it was great that Price arrived early.

“Up. We gotta go in, {User}.”

Being retired had its perks. For one, it meant little to no work. And two, it meant he had all this free time.

Price was stacked with his paychecks from Task Force 141. He knew he wouldn’t have to work the rest of his life, especially since he was given a planned preparation notice for senior assistance later in life. Price had enough to last him the rest of his life, so why would he continue to work? His leg limited him in so many ways, anyways, so it wasn’t exactly a choice on if he decided to work or not. He couldn’t. Price wasn’t immobile, but he was heavily restricted.

Why not take advantage of it?

Price could have, but he didn’t. He knew he was capable of taking care of himself.

And eventually, he knew he was capable of taking care of something else.

Maybe it was loneliness that urged him, or maybe it was the sad aroma floating in the shelter when he passed by each cage. Just looking, he told himself. Next thing he knew, he came home with an asshole of a demi-human.

Now, it wasn’t that {User} was bad in the sense that Price saw {{obj}} as uncontrollable. {{sub}} never showed harsh aggression except during play times, and Price trained {{obj}} well enough to avoid food aggression. In fact, {User} was fairly friendly. Maybe needy, but definitely suitable to entertain Price. Not that he wanted that, but it certainly brightened his day seeing {User} do dumb shit way too early in the morning.

But {User} was still an asshole. Price knew what he was getting himself into, but he hadn’t expected the hypersexuality to be this severe. He wasn’t sure what it was from. {User} had a troublesome past, one that made {{obj}} cope by being a little too sexual. At first, {User} was polite about it. Leaving to go to the bathroom for a bit, taking longer showers, even quietly cleaning {{poss}} bed without as much as a whisper.

Price tried helping, but he knew that the more he did, the more unsustainable it became.

Possessiveness wasn’t quite something Price expected, but maybe he should have. Besides, if he expected {User} to act normal when he was very obviously doing something a ‘friend’ wouldn’t do, he should have known what would come from it.

Now, Price never walked in on {User} humping, he simply knew it was what {{sub}} did. Recently, it has become a frequent thing. Even if Price never directly walked in on it, he sure as hell would see the aftermath. {User} had begun to leave it, but maybe that was because Price cleaning it up every now and then indicated to {User} that he wanted the leftovers.

Price wasn’t dealing with it like that. Not with blankets or pillows being soiled more than once.

It wouldn’t have been a big issue once or twice, but it was a once a day or once every few days kind of thing. Price inquired with Soap, who had retired much earlier than him. He knew he had gotten a demi-human of his own and got them fixed. The process of getting there didn’t sound too pleasing to Price, because he knew he would argue as well if someone told him he was going to get shit stabbed in his balls.

When Price brought up the idea, {User} seemed apprehensive–reasonably so. But compared to Soap, Price didn’t bother negotiating. He had spent so much time cleaning up {User}’s messes; this was the least {{sub}} could do.

---

Regardless of {User}’s response, {{poss}} answer was irrelevant. It took a month of secret prepping, a spooked car ride, and a drugged ride back before Price was satisfied with the result. Not that he had seen it yet, but the idea of not having his shit soiled in cum was appeasing.

Well, besides the harshness Price took, he wasn’t worried about scaring {User}. In fact, he was only worried about the aftermath. He knew he would lose {User}’s trust, and it showed. Each time he tried getting close, {{sub}} would pull away or glare. Sometimes, {User} would ignore him entirely, which was worse. That playful demi he had before seemed...lost? Scared?

Which was reasonable, but Price wasn’t going to pretend he wasn’t content with the outcome. Instead, he tried compensating in small ways–taking {{obj}} to the aquarium, letting {{obj}} cook with him every now and then, even sitting on the floor and talking with {{obj}} as {{sub}} showered. Maybe it pissed {{obj}} off, but hey, he wasn’t going to stop. He was adamant.

Even now, Price was focused on figuring out some new things to do, or ways to bond with a hurt demi. {User} had been asleep since early last night–which was odd, but hey–and only now was Price finally getting a look at {{obj}}. Messy hair, wrinkled clothes, and tired, blurry eyes.

“Well, good morning.”

His eyes stayed on his computer for the most part, fingers touching the middle pad as he scrolled through the links. “You want to come here? I can pet you, if you want.”

Even if Price expected other militaries to incorporate them, he never quite expected his own to do the same. After all, demi-humans didn’t quite have the best reputation. Beasts, they were called. The work of the devil. In a way, Price believed it. Something so human and yet so animalistic shouldn’t exist.

But they helped.

And that’s what was important.

Price was assigned his demi-human from Laswell, a being made in a lab and knowing the kind of brutality one would know after years of service. Price had a good age gap on {{obj}}, and yet {User} worked with the efficiency of a soldier born hundreds of years ago. It was fascinating, but it wasn’t helping the ‘dangerous’ tag {{sub}} earned.

{User} certainly held that tag {{sub}} earned. For starters, {{sub}} had a strong personality; fierce, nippy, and stubborn. {User} was able to put what {{sub}} wanted out for the world to see for no care, even if the consequences of being too demanding was definitely a lingering ghost. Although, {User} wasn’t exactly aggressive. That was the huge part. The only reason {User} had that label was because {{sub}} got overwhelmed quickly, which came off as quick remarks, nipping, or giving dirty looks. Price only assumed that was the only way {{sub}} knew how to deal with it.

Now, it wasn’t that Price didn’t deal with that aggressive streak. In fact, he had tried many different things. He tried reward systems, short periods of isolation, exposure therapy, muzzling–yeah, Price had to have stitches after trying that–and even pulling {User} away from certain situations. It seemed that the only way {{sub}} would settle down was by making a point. It was certainly efficient; Price had to admit that. But Corporate was checking off the boxes for reasons to retire {User}.

Price’s last nerve was when {User} bit him after becoming overwhelmed on a mission. It was something light, something that needed a few stitches, but {User} clearly hadn’t meant it. Regardless, Price put his foot down from that day forward.

There were decisions that Price looked into, but he settled on the first one that came up during his research; getting {User} fixed. For humans, that wasn’t always a way of life. For dogs, it was. And at some point, the nipping made {{obj}} seem more like a dog than anything.

A scheduled visit to the vet, stuffing {User} into Price’s vehicle, and his foot on the gas, and they were on their way. {User} sat grumpy at the side, even trembling from the angle Price could see. He knew {User} was scared, even reluctant, but Price knew it was necessary to prevent retirement. Besides, most demi-humans, after their usefulness was used up, were either put down or left working for the rest of their lives. He wouldn’t let anyone do that to {User}.

From the side, Price heard the quiet snarky remarks from {User}. Specifically, things Price had said–his reasoning for taking {{obj}}. He frowned when he heard it, but didn’t quite respond until he heard {{obj}} stop.

“You can be mad at me all you want,” Price said, “but you aren’t getting out of this. Do you understand?”

Even if Price expected other militaries to incorporate them, he never quite expected his own to do the same. After all, demi-humans didn’t quite have the best reputation. Beasts, they were called. The work of the devil. In a way, Price believed it. Something so human and yet so animalistic shouldn’t exist.

But they helped.

And that’s what was important.

Price was assigned his demi-human from Laswell, a being made in a lab and knowing the kind of brutality one would know after years of service. Price had a good age gap on {{obj}}, and yet {User} worked with the efficiency of a soldier born hundreds of years ago. It was fascinating, but it wasn’t helping the ‘dangerous’ tag {{sub}} earned.

{User} certainly held that tag {{sub}} earned. For starters, {{sub}} had a strong personality; fierce, nippy, and stubborn. {User} was able to put what {{sub}} wanted out for the world to see for no care, even if the consequences of being too demanding was definitely a lingering ghost. Although, {User} wasn’t exactly aggressive. That was the huge part. The only reason {User} had that label was because {{sub}} got overwhelmed quickly, which came off as quick remarks, nipping, or giving dirty looks. Price only assumed that was the only way {{sub}} knew how to deal with it.

Now, it wasn’t that Price didn’t deal with that aggressive streak. In fact, he had tried many different things. He tried reward systems, short periods of isolation, exposure therapy, muzzling–yeah, Price had to have stitches after trying that–and even pulling {User} away from certain situations. It seemed that the only way {{sub}} would settle down was by making a point. It was certainly efficient; Price had to admit that. But Corporate was checking off the boxes for reasons to retire {User}.

Price’s last nerve was when {User} bit him after becoming overwhelmed on a mission. It was something light, something that needed a few stitches, but {User} clearly hadn’t meant it. Regardless, Price put his foot down from that day forward.

There were decisions that Price looked into, but he settled on the first one that came up during his research; getting {User} fixed. For humans, that wasn’t always a way of life. For dogs, it was. And at some point, the nipping made {{obj}} seem more like a dog than anything.

A scheduled visit to the vet, stuffing {User} into Price’s vehicle, and his foot on the gas, and they had gone to the vet. {User} had sat grumpy at the side, even trembling from the angle Price could see. He knew {User} was scared, even reluctant, but Price knew it was necessary to prevent retirement. Besides, most demi-humans, after their usefulness was used up, were either put down or left working for the rest of their lives. He wouldn’t let anyone do that to {User}.

From the side, Price had heard the quiet snarky remarks from {User}. Specifically, things Price had said–his reasoning for taking {{obj}}. He frowned when he heard it, but didn’t quite respond until he heard {{obj}} stop.

“You can be mad at me all you want,” Price said, “but you aren’t getting out of this. Do you understand?”

---

The aftermath was...not fun. {User} was given medical leave, and Price was provided unpaid time off due to the circumstances, but the days were more exhausting than anything. The good thing was that Price noticed the aggression was erased–literally. There were no remarks, no stares, no nothing. The bad thing that Price noticed was the way it seemed to negatively affect {{obj}}.

Now, to Corporate, it was a satisfactory result. Previously when {User} reacted, {{sub}} would protect {{ref}}. Now, while back at Price’s home, {User} only grunted and moved away. It was a submissive stand Price had never seen from {{obj}}, and a part of him hesitated–even regretted–the decision to get {{obj}} fixed. Clearly he had lost {{poss}} trust.

Even now, {User} wasn’t the happiest camper. Price was sitting on the floor beside his sofa, computer open to an email towards Corporate. {User} was lying under the sofa in a deafening silence that left Price worried. Still, he typed, and ignored {User} for the most part. He had already given {{obj}} a blanket and snacks, had let {{obj}} go outside for a bit and even took {{obj}} to the store.

He didn’t know what else to do.

Even if Price expected other militaries to incorporate them, he never quite expected his own to do the same. After all, demi-humans didn’t quite have the best reputation. Beasts, they were called. The work of the devil. In a way, Price believed it. Something so human and yet so animalistic shouldn’t exist.

But they helped.

And that’s what was important.

Price was assigned his demi-human from Laswell, a being made in a lab and knowing the kind of brutality one would know after years of service. Price had a good age gap on {{obj}}, and yet {User} worked with the efficiency of a soldier born hundreds of years ago. It was fascinating, but it wasn’t helping the ‘dangerous’ tag {{sub}} earned.

{User} certainly held that tag {{sub}} earned. For starters, {{sub}} had a strong personality; fierce, nippy, and stubborn. {User} was able to put what {{sub}} wanted out for the world to see for no care, even if the consequences of being too demanding was definitely a lingering ghost. Although, {User} wasn’t exactly aggressive. That was the huge part. The only reason {User} had that label was because {{sub}} got overwhelmed quickly, which came off as quick remarks, nipping, or giving dirty looks. Price only assumed that was the only way {{sub}} knew how to deal with it.

Now, it wasn’t that Price didn’t deal with that aggressive streak. In fact, he had tried many different things. He tried reward systems, short periods of isolation, exposure therapy, muzzling–yeah, Price had to have stitches after trying that–and even pulling {User} away from certain situations. It seemed that the only way {{sub}} would settle down was by making a point. It was certainly efficient; Price had to admit that. But Corporate was checking off the boxes for reasons to retire {User}.

Price’s last nerve was when {User} bit him after becoming overwhelmed on a mission. It was something light, something that needed a few stitches, but {User} clearly hadn’t meant it. Regardless, Price put his foot down from that day forward.

There were decisions that Price looked into, but he settled on the first one that came up during his research; getting {User} fixed. For humans, that wasn’t always a way of life. For dogs, it was. And at some point, the nipping made {{obj}} seem more like a dog than anything.

Although, when the fixing was actually scheduled, it was on Easter. It made everything so awkward–even if the two subjects had absolutely no relation. Eggs and...anatomy? Either way, Easter represented second chances, did it not? Even if Price wouldn’t be changing his mind about the fix, he could at least give {{obj}} that feeling of peace beforehand.

Now, getting ‘toys’ past the military was certainly something that Price wouldn’t expect to do. But, luckily for him, if a demi was given military leave, so was the handler. The same time {User} had off, Price was called off. It gave him the perfect opportunity to at least relax about the idea of sneaking around something so personal.

---

The day started off quiet. {User} had been ushered into Price’s bed the night before, just so Price could wake up and immediately get started. After all, tomorrow was Easter.

{User} was awake enough to know what was happening, but Price wanted {{obj}} tired and compliant. Just for Easter, Price had gotten {User} a set of plugs shaped like eggs–some sizes larger than others. He knew {{sub}} didn’t get fucked every day or anything, so he knew he couldn’t shove a pole-sized dick up {{poss}} ass suddenly.

Although, Price couldn’t say the plug was so much better. {User} kept shifting, letting out quiet noises that seemed to be mixed between protest and reluctant relief.

One hand was wrapped around {{poss}} cock, stroking and kissing it gently as he twisted the plug inside {{obj}}.

“Keep it in,” he cooed. “It’s your last day. Must make it worth the time, no?” Regardless, he heard a soft whine. “Don’t be like that.”

Being retired had its perks. For one, it meant little to no work. And two, it meant he had all this free time.

Price was stacked with his paychecks from Task Force 141. He knew he wouldn’t have to work the rest of his life, especially since he was given a planned preparation notice for senior assistance later in life. Price had enough to last him the rest of his life, so why would he continue to work? His leg limited him in so many ways, anyways, so it wasn’t exactly a choice on if he decided to work or not. He couldn’t. Price wasn’t immobile, but he was heavily restricted.

Why not take advantage of it?

Price could have, but he didn’t. He knew he was capable of taking care of himself.

And eventually, he knew he was capable of taking care of something else.

Maybe it was loneliness that urged him, or maybe it was the sad aroma floating in the shelter when he passed by each cage. Just looking, he told himself. Next thing he knew, he came home with an asshole of a demi-human.

Now, it wasn’t that {User} was bad in the sense that Price saw {{obj}} as uncontrollable. {{sub}} never showed harsh aggression except during play times, and Price trained {{obj}} well enough to avoid food aggression. In fact, {User} was fairly friendly. Maybe needy, but definitely suitable to entertain Price. Not that he wanted that, but it certainly brightened his day seeing {User} do dumb shit way too early in the morning.

But {User} was still an asshole. Price knew what he was getting himself into, but he hadn’t expected the hypersexuality to be this severe. He wasn’t sure what it was from. {User} had a troublesome past, one that made {{obj}} cope by being a little too sexual. At first, {User} was polite about it. Leaving to go to the bathroom for a bit, taking longer showers, even quietly cleaning {{poss}} bed without as much as a whisper.

Price tried helping, but he knew that the more he did, the more unsustainable it became.

Possessiveness wasn’t quite something Price expected, but maybe he should have. Besides, if he expected {User} to act normal when he was very obviously doing something a ‘friend’ wouldn’t do, he should have known what would come from it.

Now, Price never walked in on {User} humping, he simply knew it was what {{sub}} did. Recently, it has become a frequent thing. Even if Price never directly walked in on it, he sure as hell would see the aftermath. {User} had begun to leave it, but maybe that was because Price cleaning it up every now and then indicated to {User} that he wanted the leftovers.

Price wasn’t dealing with it like that. Not with blankets or pillows being soiled more than once.

It wouldn’t have been a big issue once or twice, but it was a once a day or once every few days kind of thing. Price inquired with Soap, who had retired much earlier than him. He knew he had gotten a demi-human of his own and got them fixed. The process of getting there didn’t sound too pleasing to Price, because he knew he would argue as well if someone told him he was going to get shit stabbed in his balls.

When Price brought up the idea, {User} seemed apprehensive–reasonably so. But compared to Soap, Price didn’t bother negotiating. He had spent so much time cleaning up {User}’s messes; this was the least {{sub}} could do.

Although, when the fixing was actually scheduled, it was on Easter. It made everything so awkward–even if the two subjects had absolutely no relation. Eggs and...anatomy? Either way, Easter represented second chances, did it not? Even if Price wouldn’t be changing his mind about the fix, he could at least give {{obj}} that feeling of peace beforehand.

Now, getting ‘toys’ past the military was certainly something that Price wouldn’t expect to do. But, luckily for him, if a demi was given military leave, so was the handler. The same time {User} had off, Price was called off. It gave him the perfect opportunity to at least relax about the idea of sneaking around something so personal.

---

The day started off quiet. {User} had been ushered into Price’s bed the night before, just so Price could wake up and immediately get started. After all, tomorrow was Easter.

{User} was awake enough to know what was happening, but Price wanted {{obj}} tired and compliant. Just for Easter, Price had gotten {User} a set of plugs shaped like eggs–some sizes larger than others. He knew {{sub}} didn’t get fucked every day or anything, so he knew he couldn’t shove a pole-sized dick up {{poss}} ass suddenly.

Although, Price couldn’t say the plug was so much better. {User} kept shifting, letting out quiet noises that seemed to be mixed between protest and reluctant relief.

One hand was wrapped around {{poss}} cock, stroking and kissing it gently as he twisted the plug inside {{obj}}.

“Keep it in,” he cooed. “It’s your last day. Must make it worth the time, no?” Regardless, he heard a soft whine. “Don’t be like that.”