A Lesson in Decorum Ch. 01

Calvin could smell the woman even before he entered the room. She was nervous. It wasn't completely unexpected, but the fear was leaking from her. She had to be new. He hated those. It was hard enough for an experienced human to handle him. A first-timer wasn't nearly stretched enough. She would tear, scream, but demand he keep going. He didn't want that. He couldn't stand the idea of how painful it was. For both of them.

He halted at the door, not wanting to go in.

"Move, pretty boy," the handler snarled. Calvin could feel his own blood boil at the order. He was used to "pet names" from the handlers, owners, masters and mistresses. It was the way he said it. He felt the indignity of it all hit him, but he could do nothing truly in response. He wore no handcuffs, no restraints, but his collar was very much a reminder that he had no rights.

"I need to speak to my owner," he mumbled.

"I said to move," the handler demanded, taking a moment to lift up his control device. He waved it from side to side tauntingly, more than a hint of warning in the motion. "I don't want to discipline you right now. That one in there is about to get married. She wants to try one of you 'fore she does."

"She's scared," Calvin tried. He could smell her excitement as well. It was practically leaking off of her in waves. That didn't remove the fear that he would, in fact, rip her open if he tried to mount her. "I don't want to hurt her."

The handler let his face turn into a perfect sneer. He moved closer to Calvin, his rancid breath forcing him to look away. He smelled like tobacco and cinnamon, a combination he often encountered among the human handlers. Some sort of gum they chewed was supposed to mask the smell of their foul habit. Unfortunately, it made it somehow more potent, more disgusting.

"You can't hurt her, pretty boy." The man slapped the back of Calvin's head. It was no more impact than a fly landing, but the indignity still stung. "You better handle it really careful."

"Let her be with someone else. Anyone else. I'm too big for her."

The man lifted his finger to one of the buttons and the shock went through Calvin hard enough to bring him to his knees. He felt his spine tingle with burning pain, his fingers and toes curled, and drool began to form near the corners of his mouth. Every pain sensor in his body screamed out in agony, his stomach recoiling with the urge to vomit. It was an explosion of pure torment, his heart even jumping just a bit. He couldn't breathe for a very long time, his lungs seizing up, his nervous system completely taxed by the jolt.

"I told ya that I didn't want to do that." The handler knelt down and took a moment to pet Calvin along the top of his head. His orange, gold, and black hair was long enough to reach his shoulders so it fell into his face. Casually, the handler pushed it out of his face. "The master doesn't like me to discipline you if I can help it. Especially not when there's credits on the line."

Calvin's stomach began to settle and he gasped as his lungs finally began to work. The air burned, felt electrified and akin to molten lava, but at least he could breathe again. His whole body ached and throbbed, but the pain was over for the time being. That was always a good thing.

"If I fuck her, I'll hurt her," Calvin tried again. "I'm too big."

"You sure do have a mighty high opinion of yourself, pretty boy." He reached out and pulled Calvin's face up. His eyes were a dirty, muddy brown, bloodshot and looked aged beyond his years. His hair was greasy, unkempt, also somehow resembling mud. He looked dirty. That was the best way to describe him. Dirty. "You're going to go in there and give that girlie a good time. If you don't, you're going to regret it." He waved the controller around for a few seconds to enforce the statement. "We understand one another."

Calvin blinked his orange eyes. He wanted to say no, to tell him to fuck off or something else along those lines, but he couldn't. He could try to refuse. The pain was bad, but it was nothing compared to the agony of actually hurting a human. The chip that rested in his brain, the collar around his neck, reinforced the rules very clearly. What scared him was the fact that they had other methods to control him.

He inhaled roughly.

"Fine," he mumbled.

"Fine, what?" the handler asked.

"Fine, sir." Using any sort of honorific felt disgraceful. He truly had no honor, no value as a person. In fact, he was probably a fine example of what a human was. A waste. This man deserved no respect. If he were not human, Calvin would have begged for the opportunity to fight him in the pits. He had never been used to fight, his owners finding his talents rested elsewhere, but he would have loved the opportunity to hurt this very small, very wicked man.

The man's face seemed to drip pure evil. He rared back, punching Calvin as hard as he could. He felt his mouth fill with blood instantly, his lip slightly torn by the impact. Calvin knew better than to spit. Their blood was treated as if it were diseased, dirty. Their cum, their saliva, the humans didn't mind that, but if their blood got near them, it was a reason for alarm. That simply showed how ignorant that they were. He swallowed, the taste of warm metal lingering on his tongue.

"You need to learn your place here. Your master ain't owned you long. You're hardly broken in." He looked at him with a wicked sneer. "Why don't I bring one of those young females out here? Would you like that? You want me to break one of the new ones in while you watch? What'd they name that new one? Courtney?" He laughed softly. "Awful funny how they give you things human names. Spot or Sassy probably would have been good for her."

Calvin couldn't fight to growl that built in his throat. He felt his pupils change, his fingernails begin to sharpen. He was still on his knees and his hands were pressed against the floor. The extension of his nails, his claws, started to mark the floor, holes springing up under him.

"That's what I thought." He leaned forward, obviously not afraid of Calvin in the least. "I tell you what. You act right, you give her a good time and learn a little respect, and I'll make damn sure none of the young ones get touched. Not violently anyway. Okay?"

Calvin tried to relax. He truly did. He wanted to destroy that man, to rip him to shreds. He couldn't. He knew that. The minute he touched that sniveling bastard, the discipline chip and the collar would work to subdue him, to cripple him, until he could be executed or sold as scrap. He didn't care about that. He would welcome death when it came. It beat a life of servitude at the hands of men. But if he went away, they wouldn't have him as a distraction. The guards hated him, envied him. Calvin knew by the way that they talked, the way that they walked, that they despised him with every ounce of their being. No woman ever left him unsatisfied. Human women begged for him, paid top dollar, because he could please them in ways that no human could ever dream. Their jealousy, their envy, left their fury on a constant simmer, always threatening to boil over. Calvin didn't mind. He was glad that they hated him. It would protect the females. They needed someone to act as a lightning rod. He could do that. As long as he stayed alive.

"The young ones are off limits," Calvin grumbled, trying to retract his claws. "You know that. There are laws."

The man hit Calvin again. "You don't preach the law at me, Shifter. That little Courtney bitch came off of hold yesterday." He winked at Calvin. "Didn't she tell you that it was her birthday? The boss has got a bidding war going on right now over who gets the right to pop her."

Calvin felt the rage boil up again. He was going to shift. He would rip his clothes in the process. He couldn't hurt this man. He knew that. He physically was incapable of doing anything but making things worse. He had to think of something. Anything.

"Please," Calvin whispered. "You don't..."

The handler cut him off by hitting him again. He hit him harder, but Calvin's lip didn't burst. It stung, but it wasn't anything incapacitating. He focused on the handler again, wanting to beg that Courtney be spared anything painful. He wanted to agree to be good, he wanted to grovel. Looking at him, he knew that he wouldn't get that chance.

The man had his arm drawn back for another blow when the loudspeaker blasted on, a high pitched screech forcing Calvin to grab his ears.

"Ramirez," the voice of the owner, the "master" blared. "Why are you hitting my property?"

"He don't want to perform. He says that he's too big for a newbie." Ramirez kept the scowl on his face but Calvin could see just the beginnings of fear. Perhaps he didn't need to be afraid of Calvin, but a master wasn't someone that was messed around with. They had money, power, control. Crossing them was a good way to find yourself "disappeared".

"Oh?" the owner grumbled. He sounded as enthusiastic as a child listening to a lecture about manners. "Is this true, Calvin?"

Calvin swallowed, his head still ringing from the loud sound a few seconds prior. "She's never been with one of us. I'm too big. I don't want to..."

"I don't know why you're under the impression that your wants mean anything, Calvin." He sighed audibly. "Do your task for tonight, or I'll make sure that you thoroughly regret it. And Ramirez?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Don't hit my property again. If you ruin his face, they won't pay nearly as much."

"Yes, sir," he said quickly. Calvin listened as the speaker flicked off and the guard leaned in closer once more. "I told you. I can help you, or hurt you. Which one do you want?"

Calvin looked at him, and he found no compassion in his eyes. There was a sick satisfaction that this little man could control him. Calvin was six and a half feet tall, his shoulders wide, his muscles toned. It was a part of his species, specifically his type. He, quite honestly, dwarfed the man.

"I want you to help me," Calvin finally forced out. The words stung and almost choked him. He wanted no part of any human and he definitely did not want to be indebted to one. But he could see no other choice.

The man somehow looked even more evil in those few seconds. "You want me to help you? Then why can't you at least be polite?"

Calvin inhaled roughly. "I want you to help me, sir."

The man let a smile show on his face, revealing his rotten teeth. All smokers eventually had the beginnings of decay along their gum line. Calvin could see everything in intricate detail. This man's was more advanced, almost visible to human eyes. One good hit and his pearly yellows would spill from his jaw like ants from a drowned mound.

"Good boy."

He straightened and waited for Calvin to return to his feet. It was difficult, but he managed it. He was recovered almost completely. He just didn't want to move. Ramirez took a long look at him, having to almost stand on his tip toes to view his face. He saw his mouth and reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief.

"Wipe your face. You need to be presentable."

The wound was almost gone, the only wounds that truly lasted inflicted by other Shifters. Nevertheless, Calvin took the cloth and wiped his face. He motioned to return it and the man jumped back as if slapped. He looked down at the small trace of blood and Calvin could see the depths of his disgust and fear. It was almost satisfying.

"Throw it away."

Calvin turned obediently, finding a small waste receptacle that he dropped it in. He turned back to the man, noticing that his color had drained remarkably.

"I'm going to open this door, pretty boy." Calvin noticed that Ramirez's voice was wavering just slightly, increasing the little joy that Calvin could find in the situation. "You be on your best behavior."

He turned and entered a short code, the numbers of which were obviously 8-4-7-3. Shifter hearing was advanced and Calvin had long ago deciphered what each beep meant. He could not read, but that didn't mean that he was ignorant. Humans often regarded them as such, but they were mistaken. On some level, they must have known that. They liked to believed that they held some edge over their "slave race". Keeping things hidden, adding unnecessary security, it was without reason. It was all merely formality. It's not as if they could escape regardless. They couldn't harm humans, and they couldn't run.

Ramirez hit another button, a speaker that went inside of the room. "Miss Davis?" he asked, clearing his throat. "Are you ready for your appointment?"

"Yes," a squeaky voice echoed. Calvin could hear her take several deep, steadying breaths. "I'm ready."

He turned back to Calvin, looking at him with a cold stare one last time.

"Have fun, pretty boy. You best be very very careful how you handle this. Got it?"

Calvin nodded and watched as the door slid open.