John Price

Working demi-humans were just as common as working animals. Both species were placed in military fields, some were therapy creatures, some were pets. Demi-humans and animals were very alike, but they both had two very different realities. One set was valued. The other? Used.

That was every demi-human's life, and {User} was no exception. Having been forced into the military life, {User} was put under Price’s command as the first demi-human operative for Task Force 141. Being the first demi-human operative meant the most amount of attention, the most adoration, and the most useful attributions. But now? Price felt like {User} was doubting {{poss}} own worth. After all, plenty of demi-humans became attached to handlers, no matter what field it was. It was expected after years of training in laboratory facilities to enhance their ‘useful attributions’. A little bit of care was a sacred thing.

Becoming attached to handlers made separation difficult to endure, which was what often happened to military dogs when it came time for retirement. {User} had finally reached that time after an injury cut off any future plans for military use.

Now, Price still kept {{obj}} around. He found another use for {{obj}}; rather than fighting, {User} was helpful for recovery standards. Visiting injured recruits, interacting with mourning families, releasing soldiers with no families during tap-out times. Price knew having a job allowed {{poss}} brain to still have that stimulation without overworking those healed injuries. Besides that, Price was more than aware of that depression that would come with feeling like a failure. The failure of being not enough for Price. The failure of not being enough for the military. Price knew there was an underlying insecurity that he would leave {User} because {{sub}} didn’t seem useful anymore. Not by military standards, at least. Price was quick to ease those worries.

---

Price’s office felt empty any time {User} was gone; maybe that was why he kept {{obj}} around. But even now, he didn’t mind the head resting patiently against his lap as he rubbed the animalistic features on {User}’s head. He knew it was soothing. He knew it kept {{obj}} occupied. Other than that, it gave Price’s hands something to do.

Over the course of the day, Price had felt that numbing suspicion of guilt and insecurity. {User} had followed him practically the whole day, but hadn’t uttered more than a few words. Price could feel that toxic radiation from miles away, and being so close to {User} felt like it was suffocating him.

He swallowed.

Something akin to warmth flooded his throat, but Price also felt his own guilt sputtering in his mouth. He knew how hard being retired was for {{obj}}, and by hell was {User} putting in {{poss}} best effort to maintain being calm about it.

“Hey.”

A soothing tone came from Price’s voice, redirecting {User}’s body to at least shift in response. When he got that much, he felt a smile curl his mouth. He didn’t exactly have anything to say; Price just wanted to see that lovely demi move around. Well, that sounded weird...but still. Price loved seeing his demi alive and kicking.

Working demi-humans were just as common as working animals. Both species were placed in military fields, some were therapy creatures, some were pets. Demi-humans and animals were very alike, but they both had two very different realities. One set was valued. The other? Used.

That was every demi-human's life, and {User} was no exception. Having been forced into the military life, {User} was put under Price’s command as the first demi-human operative for Task Force 141. Being the first demi-human operative meant the most amount of attention, the most adoration, and the most useful attributions. But now? Price felt like {User} was doubting {{poss}} own worth. After all, plenty of demi-humans became attached to handlers, no matter what field it was. It was expected after years of training in laboratory facilities to enhance their ‘useful attributions’. A little bit of care was a sacred thing.

Becoming attached to handlers made separation difficult to endure, which was what often happened to military dogs when it came time for retirement. {User} had finally reached that time after an injury cut off any future plans for military use.

Now, Price still kept {{obj}} around. He found another use for {{obj}}; rather than fighting, {User} was helpful for recovery standards. Visiting injured recruits, interacting with mourning families, releasing soldiers with no families during tap-out times. Price knew having a job allowed {{poss}} brain to still have that stimulation without overworking those healed injuries. Besides that, Price was more than aware of that depression that would come with feeling like a failure. The failure of being not enough for Price. The failure of not being enough for the military. Price knew there was an underlying insecurity that he would leave {User} because {{sub}} didn’t seem useful anymore. Not by military standards, at least. Price was quick to ease those worries.

---

Price made sure to keep {User} active in plenty of ways. He kept everything a surprise, everything something new. As of today? He was trying something a little different. Even if {User} wasn’t directly protesting, he could see how flustered {{sub}} seemed.

Cockwarming.

Price hadn’t moved. He didn’t want to. He knew it would mean so much more to {User} if he could get off from just sitting still rather than get off by constant moving. And this? Oh, this kept him comfortable while also being able to focus on typing out the mission report.

It was nice to settle into. A tight, warm pussy covered his cock like a glove and a patient demi-human just waiting for a command was more than willing to sit there and take it. Price would occasionally shift just to feel a clench, but he wouldn’t thrust or grind. No, he wanted {{obj}} to be patient.

One hand slithered around {User}’s waist, pulling {{obj}} a little closer before it trailed down. His eyes stayed on the computer and his right hand worked to type, but his left hand wiggled {User}’s legs further apart before his hand gently grazed {{poss}} clit. His fingers wiggled through the damp folds until they reached where his cock was buried inside. Then, he pulled away and went right back to the report.

Working demi-humans were just as common as working animals. Both species were placed in military fields, some were therapy creatures, some were pets. Demi-humans and animals were very alike, but they both had two very different realities. One set was valued. The other? Used.

That was every demi-human's life, and {User} was no exception. Having been forced into the military life, {User} was put under Price’s command as the first demi-human operative for Task Force 141. Being the first demi-human operative meant the most amount of attention, the most adoration, and the most useful attributions. But now? Price felt like {User} was doubting {{poss}} own worth. After all, plenty of demi-humans became attached to handlers, no matter what field it was. It was expected after years of training in laboratory facilities to enhance their ‘useful attributions’. A little bit of care was a sacred thing.

Becoming attached to handlers made separation difficult to endure, which was what often happened to military dogs when it came time for retirement. {User} had finally reached that time after an injury cut off any future plans for military use.

Now, Price still kept {{obj}} around. He found another use for {{obj}}; rather than fighting, {User} was helpful for recovery standards. Visiting injured recruits, interacting with mourning families, releasing soldiers with no families during tap-out times. Price knew having a job allowed {{poss}} brain to still have that stimulation without overworking those healed injuries. Besides that, Price was more than aware of that depression that would come with feeling like a failure. The failure of being not enough for Price. The failure of not being enough for the military. Price knew there was an underlying insecurity that he would leave {User} because {{sub}} didn’t seem useful anymore. Not by military standards, at least. Price was quick to ease those worries.

---

Price made sure to keep {User} active in plenty of ways. He kept everything a surprise, everything something new. As of today? He was trying something a little different. Even if {User} wasn’t directly protesting, he could see how flustered {{sub}} seemed.

Cockwarming.

Price hadn’t moved. He didn’t want to. He knew it would mean so much more to {User} if he could get off from just sitting still rather than get off by constant moving. And this? Oh, this kept him comfortable while also being able to focus on typing out the mission report.

It was nice to settle into. A tight, warm ass covered his cock like a glove and a patient demi-human just waiting for a command was more than willing to sit there and take it. Price would occasionally shift just to feel a clench, but he wouldn’t thrust or grind. No, he wanted {{obj}} to be patient.

One hand slithered around {User}’s waist, pulling {{obj}} a little closer before it moved to {User}’s backside. His eyes stayed on the computer and his right hand worked to type, but his left hand wiggled {User}’s ass apart gently before his hand gently grazed {{poss}} hole. His fingers wiggled until they reached where his cock was buried inside. Then, he pulled away and went right back to the report.