Broken Hound

The material on this blog is inherently NSFW. 18+ only. It is intended to be violent and erotic in equal measure. "Ego death is salvation." K41VY4 Paladinian Hound Handled. this is a handler/hound and mechsploitation play blog. its owner is a trans woman.

[hound-k41vy4]

A Guide To My Story

Titles will be numbered in order of posting.

The text is color-coded for ease of following. This is mostly used for dialogue, and for some additional text.

White: Hound, K41VY4, Kalvya

Pink: Former Handler (Holly)

Blue: New Handler (Liazel)

Orange: Authority Personnel (Of any kind)

://Red: Computer Script

Green: Assorted Military Personnel

This post will be updated as needed.

Enjoy the Hound, she's such a good girl.

Table Of Contents Post

Table of contents may also be found through searching #TOC or #table of contents

Header image credit to

/u/Mean-Respond-2227 on Reddit

[hound-k41vy4]

(45) The Written Rules

"As a registered Hound and Pilot in the State Military, you are considered property of the State and of your Handler."

"As property of the State and your Handler, you will have been given a collar. You are required to wear this collar at all times, with exception for medical necessity."

"While on base and unassigned, you may leave your kennel as you please, but you must return to it each night."

"You will present yourself to your Handler each morning for an inspection in your Handler's office (Located: F2, #49)."

"You will maintain a standard of cleanliness. Shower each day. Maintain fair dental hygiene."

"As a registered Hound in the State Military, you must prioritize the orders of your Handler. These orders supersede orders from any other authority. In the event of contradiction, defer to your Handler."

"Unless otherwise contradicted by orders from your Handler, you must submit yourself to the Medical Technician office (Located: F3, #21) on a weekly schedule for a health inspection. Failure to do so will result in involuntary detainment for such a health inspection."

"When engaging in sex activities, you are required to submit yourself for an infectious disease panel within one week of the sexual contact."

"As a registered Hound in the State Military, you are not subject to the dress code of the standard State Military personnel and officers. You may dress as you please with items you may select from the commissary. You are required to comply with rules surrounding collars regardless of other clothing choices."

"Failure to comply with collar rules will result in punishment."

"As a registered Hound in the State Military, any complaints regarding behavior of other Hounds or State Military personnel must be taken up with your Handler."

"As a registered Hound in the State Military, any expenses incurred on your behalf will be paid for by your Handler."

"When operating your assigned Mechanized Utility Suit (Muse) (Mech), you will fill out all required mission logs and diagnostics reports. If unable to do so, assistance will be provided. See Section B of M.U.S. Safety And Maintenance handbook for further guidance. If incapacitated or unable to perform this task, assistance will be provided."

"As one of a limited number of registered Hounds in Facility 3, failure to conform to written rules will be met with punishment."

~~

I clutched my fox as I stared at the list on my tablet. The operating system was designed such that I was forced to read and acknowledge this list before actually used the tablet for anything.

I ran my finger under the collar. My tags jingled with the motion.

"Property of Handler," I whispered. I lifted my fox and stared at its beaded black eyes. "Guess we're used to being owned huh?"

[mon3trs]

some of you, i think

[handler-fox]

Look what they've done to you, my child.

They went and put a hat on you.

no one is safe from The Hat That Turns You Into A Fascist

[hound-k41vy4]

(X) Shower.

(AKA: Gratuitous Porn That I Wanted To Write So I Fucking Did So Here You Go)

Happy Pride. Enjoy some T4T porn.

The shower was on for all of four seconds before Gaige interrupted me.

He didn't say a word as he stripped off his jumpsuit and peeled off his underwear, adding to my pile of clothes, and walked into my stall like he owned it.

I stared at his mastectomy scar tattoos until he pushed me against the wall and kissed me.

I hadn't kissed anyone since my Goddess had last let me touch Her lips before She died. Even when Gaige had been at my mercy, and I was buried inside him to the hilt, I hadn't kissed him.

Was kissing for romance?

Didn't matter. I leaned into it. Gaige pushed my lips apart, grabbed my hips and flattened me against the wall, a shock of cold lancing down my back as I left the stream of warm water and was introduced to the tile surface. I felt the hair of his crotch brush against my skin, igniting my memory of being between his thighs and eating him out.

We kissed for a while, exchanging nips and bites at lips and tongues, trading who had whose tongue in the other's mouth. He bit my tongue, sucking on it like he wanted to leave a hickey on my taste buds, then left my mouth alone and bit my collarbone.

I wondered if he was apologizing for the scar in this way, as ecstasy rushed through me from his teeth like lightning. I moaned into his hair, curling my fingers against his ribs and feeling my cock get harder between our wet legs. He sucked on my skin for almost a full minute, before finally letting off and taking a breath. I inhaled sharply and looked at the bright red skin, excited to see the dark bruise in an hour.

"More," I hissed.

Gaige smirked, pecked my lips, then moved down to my breasts to administer his hickeys. I whimpered as his teeth closed around my nipple, and he shifted his hips against me, trapping my dick between his legs and flexing the muscles to tighten his thighs around me. My voice pitch shot up as I whined louder with pleasure.

His hand reached around my hips and grabbed my ass, digging his nails into the skin before sliding down to my thigh and lifting my leg. I grabbed his shoulder to maintain balance, wondering how purple my nipple was going to be later as he still sucked on it between his teeth.

When Gaige finally let my breast go, I had to hold him back to take a deep breath. I was already approaching overstimulation, but not in the bad ways. I wanted him again, I wanted him badly, and I wanted him to tear me apart.

I leaned forward and rested my chin on his collarbone. "What did you say about a strap a few days back?" I muttered into his ear as he shook shower water out of his eyes.

He pushed his hand up between my legs. "You'll have to come back to my kennel for that."

"I'll take you up on that."

"Now?"

"No." I gently pushed him away from me, letting myself regain my balance on the slippery floor, then threw myself at him for more kisses. He tasted metallic and sweet, his tongue forceful and demanding as he tried to stay in control of me.

"Floor, puppy." he commanded when we stopped for a breath. "I don't want you to slip."

I let him go and licked my lips. "You first."

He tilted his head. "I thought you were a good girl who did what she was told."

I exhaled slowly as I felt my heart cry out for this fight. This whimsical eroticism of defiance, denial of orders, forcing them to fight for control. Bratting.

Gaige blinked and moved up on me, grabbing my throat and pushing me against the wall again. I let him. "Are you a bad dog?" He said.

"Maybe."

"Then I have to teach you some fucking manners." He swiped his leg against my ankle and shoved me sideways.

I shouted in surprise, bracing myself to hit the tile, but Gaige caught my arm before there was an ugly impact, and let me flop to the floor in a more gentle manner.

He straddled my legs and leaned over me in a display of dominance. "Good girl," he mocked. "When I tell you to sit, you fucking sit."

I couldn't say make me, because he had just done that. I snarled and grabbed his neck, pulled him to me. Kissed him. Felt the shower water run over my hand in his hair, down my wrist. Felt it run from his cheeks to mine. I felt his entire body relax for just a moment; the frame of his muscles, the augmented skeletal work in his right shoulder, his hips pressing against me as they lost their tension.

I shifted my hands and yanked him sideways, rolling over with him to be on top again. I was able to hold him down for just a few seconds before he pulled the same move on me. I didn't resist, rolling with him, enjoying the sight of him fighting for dominance over me. Gaige lifted himself on his arms, his hands on either side of my head.

"You're a hot fucking specimen, you know that, puppy?" He leaned down and licked my cheek, sending an exhilarating shiver down my spine as his tongue trailed to my ear and he bit the lobe, pulling on it gently with his teeth. I could not suppress the excited moan, pressing my hips against him, using his wet thighs to stimulate myself as I drank in the delicious feeling. It was so aggressively euphoric on my body, between his treatment of me as a dog and his beastial way of taking control from me. I was utterly animalistic under him, a piece of prey, hoping to be hunted-

He bit my neck again.

I felt the tip of my cock slip against his labia.

My mouth opened in a silent scream. A split second later, the shock against my nerves shifted, jolting around each point on my body that Gaige was touching, all at once, dancing so close to that frisson-enhanced orgasm, before suddenly it was all too far away again. I shut my mouth and whimpered, hyper-aware of Gaige's piercing eyes focused on mine.

He tightened the muscles in his thighs.

I shivered and moaned against him, my entire body locking up for several seconds. "Don't... don't do that," I whined, cracking my eyes open to meet his gaze.

"It's fun. Your eyes dilate so much." He grabbed my throat and pressed me into the tile floor. "You look good like this," he rumbled. "You were born to be under me."

I held his gaze, looking for my breath, staring deep into his eyes as he pressed my throat harder, squeezing, asphyxiating me, things went blurry as I started to choke, and then his grip was gone and I could breathe again. I inhaled slowly, trying to relax my body and slow my heart, but Gaige gave me only a few moments.

He stood up, flicking water from his fingers, the shower raining down on his body. Backlit by the bulbs on the wall, from my place on the floor, he looked like a god. A god I was made to serve.

Almost blasphemous to think. My heart was captured by a goddess already.

My body, though, was all his.

Gaige crouched down beside me, pushed his fingers between my legs, and pressed up underneath my balls. I moaned softly as he prodded at the sensitive skin, delighted that he knew how to please trans girls. He wrapped his other hand around the length of me and began slowly jerking me off, hitting just those right spots, brushing over the tip before slowly dragging my foreskin back down. He was gentle but firm as I squirmed under his attention. "Good puppy, staying down," he said. "Keep up this good behavior and I might let you fuck me. How does that sound?"

I whined out a soft moan.

"That's what I thought."

I twitched against him, wanting more, more, more physical touch. I wanted him all over me, touching and grabbing and kissing and cuddling and I wanted him wrapped around my cock. I stopped myself from bucking into his hand, wanting to be a good girl for him, to stay still, be his toy this time.

His touch vanished from my genitals, dragging a pathetic whine of protest from my throat. My eyes refocused and I looked at him, wondering why he stopped.

"Puppy want a treat?" He asked, raising his voice to that infantilizing and embarrassing pitch that was so devastatingly enticing to me.

I lifted my head and nodded vigorously, pushing my wet hair from my face. I was voiceless now, rapidly losing my cognition as I let him take control.

"Up." He snapped his fingers. It sounded funny due to the noise of the running water and the echo of the tiles, but it got the message across. I shakily got to my feet, holding my balance as best I could. "Good dog!" he said, reaching forward to scratch at my chin and rub my head. I pushed my head gleefully into his hand, losing my cognition even more as I sank deeper and deeper. He pulled his hand back. "Down."

I dropped back to my knees, staring at his now eye-level bush.

"No, puppy. All the way down. Bend over. Ass up." He pushed my head toward the tile, then smacked my ass. I moaned at the impact, and struggled to hold the position he had instructed me into. He smacked it again, harder, goddess, fuck, I needed him to beat me until my skin was black and blue. "Good girl. Up again." He moved around in front of me as I struggled to get back to my standing position.

And he repeated it. Over and over, four, five, six times. Up, down, up, down, my knees ached, my hair was flopping over my head in a messy mop, and each time I went down, he would hit my ass. I wondered if this was the reward, but I did not ask. I did not speak. He hadn't told me to.

I really am born for this, I thought happily. Born to be the submissive, for the stronger dog and the powerful Handlers. I glowed with joy as my hips and knees and ankles cried out for relief after the....how many times had he ordered me up and down? I'd lost count, but who cared? He was smiling, I was smiling, my ass hurt with pleasure, and all was well.

At last he stopped ordering me back up. "Do you want your treat now, little puppy?" He asked, rubbing my head and holding my hair so gently. "You've been a good dog. Lay on your back."

Both of my knees popped as I adjusted my position and returned to laying down on the tile. Gaige reached for the knobs on the wall and shut the water off; we weren't using it anyway. In the sudden quiet, he loomed over me. I stared at his glorious, wiry body. I wanted it. Whatever he was going to give me, I wanted my treat. I was a good dog for him.

He leaned over me. I reached up for him, hoping I could touch his face or his chest or his stomach. His wet muscles were beautiful. Gaige took my hand, running his fingers through mine, then dropped his body to straddle mine and slammed my wrist above my head. My cock twitched and my heart raced and a desperate moan escaped my throat.

A sneer crossed his lips. He grabbed both my wrists and put them together, shuffled his body forward and planted his knees on my arms, and settled his crotch on my face. I whined as his smell filled me, as my tongue settled against him, tasted him, as my world was absorbed between his thighs.

"There's your treat, puppy," he rumbled. "Suck me dry, you fucking slut."

I clamped my lips over his swollen cock, more than happy to appreciate what the hormones had done for him. Small, but so potent, so powerful, and goddess if I made him cum, he'd praise me? He'd be so proud of me? Right? I closed my eyes, breathed carefully through my nose, and got to work in a slow back and forth pattern. I flicked out my tongue to brush his genitals, tasting him, wishing I could drink him out of a cocktail glass, eat him alive, devour his essence.

I wanted his cum. I wanted him. I wanted him, I needed him.

I moaned into him, feeling his bush, spelling my name with my tongue as I paused the sucking for a breath. P U P P Y.

Gaige's little puppy. Gaige's fuckdoll.

I remembered his insults from resilience training. He'd called me "a fleshlight that can fly." And he was right! Everything he'd ever said to me was right, of course! He knew me so well and he treated me exactly like I deserved! Just a puppy toy meant for sucking on trans men's cocks!

He shifted and moaned as I pleasured him, one hand wrapped in my hair, one hand holding my wrists against the tile, his hips shifting into me, back and forth, coating my face with his wet cunt, drowning me in his arousal as I tried to push my tongue inside him. I managed to succeed for a few seconds and Gaige froze, his grip tightening around my wrists as he snarled.

He twitched. Was he cumming?

Gaige lifted off me so he could bring his face closer to mine without bending his back overmuch. "I'm close, puppy," his voice rippled through my skull. "If you make me cum, I'll be very happy."

I whined in delight and looked at his dripping crotch again. I wiggled my butt, trying to urge him back to my face, wanting him to ride me, ride me, ride me like a fucking mech, like a toy. Get on me get on me get on me PLEASE-

He stood up, letting off my arms, and I whined in protest before he turned around and dropped his knees on either side of my skull, pressing himself against my face in a more suffocating way. I drove my tongue eagerly back into the folds of his cunt, but pleasure suddenly raced around my body, and I grabbed his delicious thighs uncontrollably as he stroked my own cock with his tongue, wrapping his mouth around me with expertise. My body locked up as I tried to hold onto my focus on him.

I kept going, spelling puppy again, spelling Gaige, pushing my tongue in, further, pushing myself between his legs, truly trying to fucking eat him alive, I wanted him to cum so bad, I wanted him to cum all over my goddamn face like the slut I am, fuck, he tastes so good, so sweet and musky and he smells incredible I need him I need him I need himIneedhimIneedhim please Gaige cum please please cum-

His legs locked over my head. Muscles flexed, all at once. I held my hands on his ass, feeling him twitch and tremble while I held my breath, my head stuck in a weird pressure position as my ears heard nothing but the sound that traveled through his legs. I held him as his cock twitched against my tongue, shuddering with satisfaction as I lapped up his arousal.

Just when I was preparing to tap his ass to make him move so I could breathe, Gaige shifted forward and flopped over sideways, rolling off me. His face was red, and his chest was rising and falling with rapid breath. I licked my lips and regulated my breathing, struggling to keep myself together. I closed my eyes and reveled in what I had just done.

There was glory in making Gaige cum. I rolled over, swallowed what was left in my mouth, and began drooling as I stared at his body.

"Am I a good puppy?" I whined.

Gaige grunted and rolled over, his legs still shaking. He dragged his eyes to meet my gaze, and we stared at each other for a long minute. His golden-green eyes, the eyes of a hunter, of a pack leader.

"You're a good puppy, Kalvya."

The eyes of a man pleased with his prey.

I whipped my hair back and snarled in joy.

[antlersish]

Mad about politics again

[hound-k41vy4]

(44) Commissary.

I am reintroducing the GREEN TEXT for generalized military personnel, from this point forward. I may take time to go backwards and adjust it in previous chapters.

Content warning: Transphobia, slurs, transmisogynist violence

I didn't expect a room that mimicked a prison cafeteria. But what else would make sense? An organized path of food lines to tables, with the actual commissary store in a secondary space to the left of the double doors that Gaige pushed open with no hesitation or compunction.

As the doors closed behind us, and a few dozen pairs of eyes zoned in on the two Hounds who had just walked in, I felt a horrifying reminder of the cathedral luncheons I had been forced to attend.

Gray walls, sparsely painted, lights too bright and sounds too loud.

Every eye on me.

For approximately eight seconds, I was terrified. But I found myself, and most of the denizens of the commissary hall rapidly lost interest.

Not all of them.

Gaige snapped his finger in front of my face. "Hey. Pup. Stay with me. Breakfast ends in twenty minutes, we're on a timer."

I shook myself out of the trance of being in a new space, and followed him through the tables. I half expected the various soldiers, mechanics, operators, pilots, and med techs to stop us, taunt us, get grabby or violent, but none of them made a move for that. At least not yet.

Gaige waved to the personnel handling food, and we were presented with a list of what was available. I managed to keep my voice together, and asked for potatoes and biscuits and hashes of bacon. I knew I needed the salt, if nothing else, though I wasn't sure how much of the food I would actually keep down. I'd been given protein wedges and water for my meals for so long that I wondered if I could still taste anything.

"Pick a table," Gaige told me as we carried our trays away from the counter. "I'll join you in a second." He took a quick turn away and left me alone.

I selected a table nearby a disposal can, and far from most of the patrons of the commissary.

Now what?

I wondered if Handler had intentionally left the muzzle off of me this morning, for this reason.

Go with Gaige, She'd said, He's going to show you where you'll get your food from now on. No protein bricks anymore, for now.

I picked up the metal utensils the service personnel had handed me, and tentatively poked at the potatoes.

Oh goddess, real food again. I forgot all hesitation and tore into my breakfast.

Gaige came back with two cups balanced on his tray, alongside biscuits and chicken and gravy.

"What is-"

"You like coffee?"

I felt my face light up with a smile. "Fuck me, yes." I grabbed at the cup immediately after he set it in front of me.

I burned my tongue, of course, and had to let it sit for a few minutes. I was able to drown out everything that was not immediately between Gaige and I, ignoring the noise, the clash of dishes, the shouts and laughter and arguments of the other personnel, the scrape of silverware, as I housed almost all of the food.

"Haven't had real food in a while, huh?" Gaige commented.

I shrugged and went for the coffee a second time.

I'd had good coffee, I'd had good coffee, and I'd had terrible coffee. I was always prepared to accept terrible coffee, but whatever this was, it tasted like heaven. I hadn't had coffee in so long, I'd forgotten what the bitter black fluid could even be. I let it sit on my tongue for a minute, feeling out the bitterness and the darker, earthy notes of the flavors, before I swallowed. I chugged back the rest in a hurry.

"Caffeine is going to feel weird," I muttered.

"Yeah, good luck with the coffee shits." Gaige cackled into his own cup as he finished it off.

"Don't ever talk to me about that."

He laughed louder.

"Hey!" Someone shouted. A gruff voice. Masculine, it seemed. "Quit your barking over there!"

My heart sank into my stomach as my brain processed the social cue of opposition. Someone was annoyed with me. With us. I almost watched myself sink into the headspace of trying to make myself not exist. To be elsewhere, to be unnoticed, to shrink into a corner and hide from the public.

"Hey, fuck off!" Gaige responded.

Shut up. Don't draw attention to us. Don't agitate them.

The scrape of a chair. Footsteps.

I remembered the rumors circulating the cathedral about my gender identity. The bullying. The random, unpredictable, in-the-moment physical attacks. My heart rate picked up.

"Didn't know She let Her dogs talk back," I heard, much closer now. I stared at my empty tray. The footsteps stopped. The table shook slightly. "Heard you two boys were supposed to be good little puppies that stay quiet and do what they're told."

...boys? My heart crept out and curdled into blinding hatred.

"Boys?" Gaige said. "I'm the only guy at this table. Watch your fuckin' mouth, Operator."

"Don't talk back to me with that tone, you porn set piece. What are you gonna do, cry for Mistress?"

I glanced up at Gaige and met his eyes. He seemed calm. "If you want to get in on what we have, Operator, I suggest you talk to your Captain about it. But you don't seem the type."

"I'm not stupid enough to take a frame jack implant like you." The voice got closer. "And I'm not a faggot, so your Handler wouldn't like me."

I saw red. I turned to face him. "Do you have a fucking problem? I hissed.

"Yeah, I do." He moved around the table and got closer to me. He had a ridiculous beard cut and a messily shaved head. "I got a problem with men like you dragging the good name of our military through the fucking mud."

"I am not a man," I seethed. "Get lost."

"Prove it. Show me your cunt."

Gaige inhaled sharply. "Watch your fucking words carefully, Operator," he growled.

"I am not a fucking man!" I shouted, suddenly aware of the silence of the room. We were being watched. I tried to ignore it and focus on the problem standing in front of me. I felt the heat rising in my chest. My heart was racing.

"You don't get to pick," the lanky jackass muttered. "Just because you've got some redistributed fat on your chest-" he reached for me.

I grabbed his wrist and slammed it against the table, jerking it sideways as hard as I could. He shouted and grabbed for me with his other hand, getting a hold on my jumpsuit and pulling me backwards from the bench.

"Operator!"

I scrambled up from the floor and threw myself at him.

He clearly wasn't expecting a fight. I slammed my elbow up into his sternum, kicked his ankle, and followed with a punch to his dick as hard as I could. He flopped to the floor in a wheezing sound of panic, unable to breathe after I'd forced the wind from his lungs. "Don't you EVER misgender me again!" I screeched. "I will rip your goddamn balls off!"

A hand grabbed at my wrist. I whirled to the side and raised a fist to find Gaige staring at me. "Enough, Kalvya. Let's go."

"It is not enough!" I spat on the moaning man. "Fuckers like him should have died out two centuries ago! I didn't go through all the fucking bullshit to feel at home in my own body just to have a stupid jackass tell me it doesn't mean anything!" I pointed at him aggressively, and desperately wanted to hit him again. I wanted to choke him out, make him bleed, make him hurt, nobody gets to talk to me about my gender, I fought too hard for this body and this name and this-

I felt my throat close up. Don't cry.

"Kalvya! Gaige!"

The world around me stopped existing.

Handler stood at the door. "Heel," She ordered, Her voice echoing across the commissary.

All that mattered in the moment was contained in the space between Her and I. I needed to be beside Her. I was barely cognizant of Gaige behind me as I shuffled between the tables to reach Her, slinking to my knees and looking up, wondering how She might punish me for my indiscretion and violence in the new place I'd been introduced to. Was I supposed to restrain myself? Was I supposed to be a good little bitch and take it? Or was that just between Mommy...Handler, Gaige, and I? Was I allowed to fight back?

Her hand slid under my cheek. "Hello little one," She muttered. "Are you all done eating?"

I nodded.

"Good dog." She held up Her other hand and showed me my muzzle. "Sit still for a moment."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, embracing the strangely soft leather straps as they wrapped around my head. They tightened. Handler's hands released me. I looked up at Her with relief, appreciating the removal from the situation. I didn't have to make any decisions or fight anyone anymore. She was here. She would handle it. My heart had slowed. Handler was a regulator in my panicked and confused day; She was holding me in a place of safety.

"What happened, Gaige?" She asked.

He grumbled, his tone gruff and pained. "They misgendered Kalvya. Provoked her. She retaliated...appropriately."

"Is that so?" Handler looked behind us at the commissary hall. "I'm so sorry, little one. Him, on the floor?"

I tilted my head to catch him in my peripheral vision. He had rolled over onto his back and was trying to get to his feet. "Yes, Handler."

She crouched between us. "Did he touch you?" She muttered to me.

"He tried, Handler."

She nodded, and rose back up to Her feet. "Stay, pups."

"Yes, Mistress."

I said nothing. I was comfortable on my knees, and relieved to have the stress of the situation taken off my shoulders.

First time getting real food and I get in a fight in fifteen minutes.

"Operator."

I shifted my knees slightly to watch.

Handler slammed her hand against his chest and dragged him with shocking strength to his knees. "Did you touch my Hound?"

He didn't respond.

"Do you understand that you are a tool in this military?" Handler grabbed his face. "Do you understand that when you play with or damage tools that don't belong to you, that you are causing problems for your superiors? Do you understand that when you choose to touch my tools, you are choosing to interfere with my work? Tell me, Operator, because I need to know that we are on the same page here. My Hounds are my fucking property. You do not touch my property without my permission. You do not touch the weapons that have my name carved into them."

Handler tossed him back to the floor. "I need all of you to understand something!" She shouted to the entire hall. Dozens of eyes were drawn to Her.

As She deserves.

"My Hounds," She began, "are my weapons. My tools. If any of you break my weapons, or mishandle them, or cause them agitation, I will not take it lightly. This Operator here," She jabbed a finger at the man who was only now beginning to recover, "saw fit to agitate and touch my Hound. I will let this be your only warning, and I will trust you to spread this amongst your squadmates and comrades and fellow Operators. If you agitate my Hounds, no matter the method or reason, and they attack you in retaliation, I will not reprimand them for defending themselves. Am I crystal fucking clear, Operator?" She looked down at the man who had provoked me.

Her weapon. I felt my lips twitch toward a smile. That was a title I wanted. Handler's weapon. It made me feel powerful. Lethal.

His face was bright red as he got to his feet. "Yes...Yes Ma'am."

"Good." With that final word, She turned on Her heels and walked back to us. "Up. Come with me." The snap of Her fingers echoed in the commissary's silence.

Gaige and I rose to our feet and followed at Her heels without a word.

~~

There was real gymnasium equipment in the resilience room today. Gaige, rather than outright attack me, began showing me how to perform various exercises. It stretched out my muscles and worked through the righteous fury I had felt during breakfast. I had something to think about, a face I wanted to destroy, a target I felt an intense desire to kill.

Gaige had similar ire in his face. The conflict had pissed him off too, though I wondered why he hadn't taken the chance to beat the shit out of the old world asshole himself, especially given Handler's apparent approval.

Should I thank Her for defending me? Does She want me to come cry to Her if someone fucks with me? Or did Her statements mean I have to fight my own battles, handle conflicts myself? She said She wouldn't "reprimand" us for defending ourselves.

My mind twisted backward to the sortie launch. Was She giving me permission to defend myself then, too?

I remembered the feel of the brand new gun in my grip as I held the barrel between Her beautiful eyes. How could I have done that? How could I have considered ending Her life? A woman who, flawed as She may be, had my back and would stand as a pallisade between me and people who hate me? A woman who would enforce respect for my identity with an iron fist?

I would never consider that again.

I would take Handler as an ally.

[hound-k41vy4]

(43) Little One.

I cradled my fox in my cage, rubbing its little nose against my collarbone, wincing when I brushed across the scar Gaige had left.

Handler had given me some cannabinoid stimulants to use as I pleased, and I'd tossed one back before my shower. I wanted to feel it kick in once I laid down for bed, and I sensed the fuzzy body high as I wrapped the blankets around my skin. I curled into the warmth, enjoying the textures of the fabric between my toes and against my muscles. It felt nice, even moreso with the stims affecting my senses. My head began to buzz. I pretended my little fox was alive, bouncing it along my stomach, over my breasts, up my collar and neck, and setting it onto my head with a giggle.

My little fox. Little toy. My puppy toy.

I tilted my head forward and watched the fox fall onto my chest, the tiny beads inside it settling with a satisfying noise.

I imagined it chirping at me with that weird little bark that foxes made.

Gaige was right, of course. I had no business being anything other than a dog. Something in me wanted to reject it, but more of me desired it. To be a dog, and be nothing more than a dog.

Oh, Kalvya? The puppy? Yeah she's a pilot, but... you know. She's just a dog. We give her treats when she's good.

Gaige knows me better than I do.

That makes me sad.

My heart is in a glass case, and everyone can look at it and study it, but when I look down, it's an incomprehensible picture. Why can't it be simple? I should be able to distill it all down. Push away the trauma, push away the United Territories war, push away the mechs...just be a dog at Mommy's feet. I don't want to think about any of this. I don't want to think at all.

I clutched my fox, rubbed its whiskers on my sternum.

My door opened, the gentle sound breaking the silence. I turned over in my bed and looked through the bars of the cage as Handler came in.

Dragging energy out of my tired body, I pushed the blankets off me and sat up, pushing my legs out sideways. I put the fox in my mouth and used my hands to keep my balance; I'd been a little unsteady since Gaige and I had fought.

"Hi little one," Handler said, Her tone sultry and desirable. She opened my cage and made Her way to my bed, sitting down beside me. "You can relax. You don't need to sit at attention right now."

I didn't change position, but my shoulders sagged slightly and my hips rested more firmly against the mattress.

"You should carry that in your teeth more often. You look cute."

Euphoria shot through me like I'd snorted a bump of coke. I kept the fox there, worried that if I opened my mouth, I'd say something stupid. Stay quiet and She'll praise you more, dummy. Dumb dog. Just be Her dumb dog, right? That's what you need.

Drool slipped from my lips and soaked into the fox's fabric pelt. I hoped She didn't notice. I was so giddy at Her words, I felt my hips wiggle. Wagging my little tail.

Please. Thank you. More please. Goddess, please.

She reached out and pat my head. For a moment I tensed up, remembering Gaige pulling my hair so many times in this last month, but She stroked the strands, brushing a few up out of my face, running Her fingers over my scalp gently. Her nails scratched against me, and I made a quiet noise of pleasure.

"Good dog," She whispered.

Euphoria.

"You were so good for me on your first sortie. Do you think you did well?"

I nodded eagerly, and reached up to take the fox out and talk, but She stopped my hand with Hers. I reveled at Her touch.

"You don't need to talk, little pup. Keep your toy there. Okay? I won't ask you any hard questions."

Little pup, little pup, little pup, that's me, oh goddess, She means me, I'm the little pup, I'm so small for Her-I nodded tentatively again. Please touch me. Pet me.

"Gaige got his reward, he's such a good boy for me. Do you want the same reward?"

I glanced down at Her boot and nodded.

"It's a very special treat, little one. Only the best Hounds get to have that. Maybe one day you will earn it." She brushed my head again.

I whimpered around the fox.

"Come here, puppy. Lay down."

I curled into the sheets, slumping over and pushing my feet into the pillow, hoping I wasn't too close to earn Her ire.

"No no, little one. In my lap."

Surging joy bolted through me, alongside uncertain anxiety. I looked at Her again, my eyes wide, wondering if She was serious. She wasn't serious, was She? This was part of Her game?

Please?

"Lap, puppy." She tapped Her beautiful thighs with a flat palm, and that was as much of an invitation as I needed. I kicked the sheets away and crawled toward Her, laying my head against Her warm legs, still holding my fox in my teeth while I settled into Her body. I fixed my gaze on Her.

Her body was like a cradle, holding me up while I stared at Her eyes and listened to Her voice, a voice like a music box playing a lullaby. Her touch, on my thighs and on my head, was a notion of gentleness. I gave Her my rapt attention as Her lips moved into speech.

"I know, little one, that you're struggling with these changes. I know you're hurting. And I know that when I tell you to call me your Mommy, that it causes you pain. You remember Her, and you feel like you're betraying Her. I know that you still grieve, and that you still love Her, and you miss Her. I know the pain when those bonds break or vanish. You are a girl born of those broken bonds."

I tilted my face and pressed my head against Her stomach. I felt the gentle motion of Her abdominal muscles as She breathed in and out.

The thinking began to flatline like a heart monitor. I sank into the touch of a caregiver.

Memories bubbled up. Hundreds of nights, hundreds of mornings, just like this. Thousands, even. Mommy holding my head on Her thighs, stroking my hair with one hand, Her other brushing across my body, whispering sweet things into my ear as I fell asleep. Praising me, telling me what a good girl I am, telling me how I did so well for Her, how the power cells I had scrounged up would make sure I got my hormones and enough food for a few weeks.

She whispers my name, Little Kalvya, such a good puppy for Mommy, She pats my tummy, sweet little puppy, She kisses my forehead, little one, sweet little puppy, aren't you such a good girl for Mommy? Hush now, no need to whine and whimper, let me take care of you, She reaches between my legs, curls Her hand and pats my ass, slowly, once every few seconds, my sweet little babydoll, precious puppy, you're such a good girl for me, aren't you? Yes you are, little Kalvya, my little huntress, my good pilot, sweet Hound. You bark so loud, you bite so fiercely, such a good girl...Hush now, little angel, let your Mommy do the thinking.

"Little one, you don't need to cry. Mommy's here."

I curled my fingers into the fabric of Her uniform, holding my breath to stop the tears, the fox slipping from between my teeth as I choked back the sobbing.

"Shh, none of this now, my dear. You're safe. I protect you, understand? I take care of my puppies."

"Okay." My breath hitched as I clawed to keep the fox against my skin, "Okay, Mommy." No. No I can't...I can't. She's not... that was a slip up, I didn't say that, I don't... Handler isn't my Mommy. She's not.

I curled into Her even further, wishing She was. Wishing She could be. I needed my Mommy so badly, I needed my caregiver, and Handler...

I couldn't resist the tears. They slid over my nose and vanished into the fabric of Her uniform as I clutched at Her tighter than I ever thought I would.

Handler was here.

Handler was here, and present, and giving, and how? How could I resist what was offered? How could I? When I so badly need what She is giving me, what She is promising and offering and providing and maybe it's not a game and maybe She is trying to care for me and maybe She did rescue me from the Daedalus frame and save my life and She wanted to adopt me as Her puppy and-

"Good Hound," She whispered, stroking my hair. "Good girl. Hush now, little puppy, and I'll keep you safe."

Hush now.

[hound-k41vy4]

(0) Table Of Contents

Listed in order of posting, clickable links:

Part 1

2. Part 2

3. Part 3

4. Part 4

5. Part 5

6. Part 6

7. Part 7

8. Part 8

9. Part 9

10. Part 10

11. Part 11

12. Part 12

13. Part 13

14. Part 14

15. Part 15

16. Part 16

17. Part 17

18. Part 18

19. Part 19

20. Part 20

21. Part 21

22. Part 22

23. Part 23

24. Part 24

25. Part 25

26. Part 26

27. Part 27 [Porn]

28. Part 28 [Porn]

29. Part 29 [Porn]

30. Part 30 [Porn]

31. Part 31

32. Part 32

33. Part 33

34. Part 34

35. Part 35

36. Part 36

37. Part 37

38. Part 38

39. Part 39

40. Part 40 [Porn]

X.1: Historia Kalvya 1

41. Part 41

42. Part 42

[shegayonmygirl]

I literally just wanna be a professional dog

[hound-k41vy4]

(42) Administrative Dialogues: Pillars

"The clicker doesn't work on her at all?"

"No. She associates it with commands being given, but doesn't have a compulsion towards it."

"Well, you didn't exactly hand her treats and say gimme paw when you pushed the button."

"True. I thought she would learn to associate it with her fox and a systemic reward path, but, like always, there's a learning curve. And just because you respond to the clicker, doesn't mean all the dogs will."

"The fox won't be an issue anymore, you think?"

"No. It served its purpose, and I won't take it from her unless she makes a grave mistake. I know what she needs and I know how to push her there."

"And her pillars?"

"Her primary is a sense of security and privacy. She needs to feel like she has a space to retreat to when she is overwhelmed. Very classic neurodivergent behavior."

"And she associates the title Handler with a sense of security."

"She will over time, especially now that I'm not going to take her fox anymore. It served its purpose. Her secondary pillar is hatred. She needs something to feel she can fight against and resist, and that comes twofold. A competition-"

"Me."

"...Yes. You. The second part of that is a feeling of fighting her past self. Based on what I know of where she grew up, she has deep trauma related to religion, rejection, and her gender identity or sexuality. Common amongst a portion of the transfeminine individuals who identify as puppies."

"Mm. There's small communities of them around, I passed through and around them myself. Common on net message boards and forums."

"The trauma aspect of that still needs to be tested, I don't know how she responds to that kind of opposition. I've got ideas to try, I'll walk you through them tonight. You'll take her to the commissary tomorrow."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Her third pillar, connected to the second, is her sex drive. When she gets angry, she gets sexually aggressive and frustrated. Pissing her off runs parallel to teasing her; it gets her going."

"No shit."

"Don't pretend you aren't interested in her when she's acting like that. I know what you fantasize about when you think of her."

"You know all of my fantasies, Mistress."

"Yes I do, darling. Now, stop talking. I'm thinking out loud."

"..."

"The goal for her is to push all of those pillars together and coalesce them as a single piece. The persona of the Hound, for her, is angry and sexually aggressive, yet assured in her physical safety. I know how to trigger these things together, and I know how to make her feel like she is going to lose the stability of her primary pillar. She needs to think that I might still take the fox away, or keep her out of the mechs, or take away her hormone therapy. Dangling these three things over her head will keep her pacified."

"..."

"Commissary, tomorrow morning. I'll send you instructions on your tablet."

"Yes, Mistress."

[hound-k41vy4]

(41) Needing.

"Come on, puppy! That was pathetic! You can hit harder than that!"

"Sit fucking still and I will!"

"You can swing on your feet, dumbass, move as you hit me!"

I wiped blood off my face for the fourth time today. I was pushing myself, I needed to beat him, I wanted to win, I wanted Her to see me kick his fucking ass.

I roiled in jealousy after Gaige's sortie reward. I had told myself to get over it, to shut the fuck up and let it go, but it just burned so much. Why did I want to be on Her boot so fucking bad? Why did I need that? Mommy never did that to me, I never saw Mommy's dirty, dusty boots as something I needed to rut against or use to masturbate. She would let me have Her panties sometimes, as a treat, but She never degraded me for a crowd on Her boot.

And yet I wanted it.

It was like watching Gaige fuck himself senseless on the shiny leather had unlocked a new fetish for me, and I had no way to access exploring it. A need had been discovered, and it could not be fulfilled without decimating the other dog. It was a feat of strength and skill; getting to hump Handler's boot had Gaige at the top of the food chain, and now I needed to drag him down the slope.

This was the first time I'd seen him since we ran our sortie three days ago.

I swung again.

He blocked, but slower this time, pushing my fist away. A feint. I jammed my other fist against his ribs. Gaige managed to get his arm between my knuckles and his bones, but the impact still winded him, and he gasped as I connected.

I pushed. Braced my foot against the mats and slammed my shoulders against his sternum, throwing him backwards. I followed through, two steps forward, another push, another punch for him to use energy blocking, another, another.

And I slammed his spine against the wall, pinning his wrists with my hands.

He took a breath. "Now what?" he muttered. "You haven't won yet. Keep going. Put me on the floor, beat me until I can't breathe."

I looked into his eyes. "Maybe later."

Though that's goddamn tempting.

Instead, I pressed my body against his, pushed a knee between his legs, and leaned close to his ear. "Tell me what it was like," I murmured.

He adjusted his left wrist. I shifted my grip to keep him pinned, and our fingers laced together. Now we were just holding hands. His golden eyes found mine. "It's like seeing god, Kalvya."

"Describe it. More."

His eyes got brighter. "Imagine the person you love most in the world is your only source of utter bliss. Imagine that the bliss comes from looking up at your Goddess, knowing that She loves you as much as you love Her, and that She will keep you safe, and what She wants from you most, right now, is for you to pleasure yourself with a tool that She gives you. Imagine that nothing in the world is as important as an orgasm, just because She wants to watch it happen. Can you imagine that? Can you imagine fucking yourself for Her, for a Goddess? Can you imagine loving someone so much that you would fuck yourself in public the moment She asked you to?"

I could, in explicit and pornographic detail. It confirmed my feelings; Gaige and Handler had the same sort of bond that I had with Holly, with my dead Goddess. My Mommy.

I would have done all of that and more for Her. My lips curled as I searched Gaige's face for...something. I would have done the same. I would have killed, maimed, tormented. I would have beat another puppygirl senseless if Mommy had asked me to, and that's precisely why Gaige was doing this. His Mistress had pointed, said Go, and he did. I needed what He had. It was vital essence to me. I had held a bond like that for five years, held it close to my chest and treasured it beyond measure. In this moment, facing Gaige against the wall, I was self-aware as I consciously denied what I knew to be true.

I need it.

"What's going on in that head, little dog?"

The barriers fell apart. "I need it."

"Then be better than me, puppy, and maybe you can have it. The boot isn't for just any day. She doesn't muzzle me and take away the person and let me sink just because. It's a treat."

Bullshit. "But you could get that treat from anywhere."

Gaige laughed. "Right. That's funny."

I tentatively let go of his wrist and grabbed his chin, trying so hard to deny him. "I think She made you this way. I think She fucked with your head so much that all you can think about is Her fucking shoes. You're so pathetic."

"You misunderstand," Gaige rumbled. "She didn't make me this. This is who I am. And it's who you are, too."

"I don't want this," I hissed, letting go of him to gesture broadly around us. "I didn't want a... a psychological specialist to dig in my brain and carve out my... my identity, Gaige, like they clearly did with you. I wanted to choose my way here, not be forced into it like a slave on a trigger switch!"

"Then you don't want the fucking boot, do you!?" Gaige used the wall to brace himself as he shoved me back to the mats, gesturing broadly at the room, the facility around us. "Choose this! Stop fighting! You belong down here, because you are just like me!" he jabbed a thumb at his chest. "You and I, Kalvya, are the fucking same. We are dogs in this world. We belong at the bottom. So just fucking embrace it. Revel in it and love it, because this is what we are built for."

"You are a cog in a machine, you goddamn bootlicker!"

"Yeah!? You wanna call me that? I saw how eager you were to clean up Her boot when I was fucking done with it, I know how much you love huffing me every chance you get!"

"I do NOT-"

"YOU are the bootlicker, Kalvya, you just need a man to cum all over it first!"

"Oh my goddess, FUCK you!" I advanced on him again. I'm putting you in your place. Shut up. Gagging you and leave you bleeding on the fucking floor, I hate you so fucking much, I'm going to kick your stupid teeth in, you dumb fucking dog stop being RIGHT, I DON'T WANT YOU TO BE RIGHT-

I kicked at his knees and followed the motion with an overhand swing. He blocked it, grabbed my wrist, twisted my arm suddenly, and jerked my whole body such that my arm ended up behind my back and I lost my balance. He grabbed my shirt and threw me against the wall face first, and the air rushed out of my lungs as he slammed his body against me.

Gasping for air, I sank to my knees against the wall in miserable defeat. Again.

He always fucking wins. He's always right and he always wins.

He grabbed my hair, snatching away what little breath I had left, and pressed my skull against the wall, grinding the muzzle against my nose and cheekbones while I felt my body lock up on tension. I felt his warm breath against my ear, the panic-inducing pull on my ponytail, and the whispery tone. "You don't think I just forgot about when you fucked me, do you? That I just pushed it out of my head? I remember all of it. You didn't overpower me, Kalvya. I was a pity present for you because I fucked up, you did not earn me." He pulled my shirt off my neck, showing the scar he had left with his teeth. "And it was worth it. I'd do it again."

"You're vile," I heaved out, trying to get the muzzle to shift and stop pinching me, trying to breathe through my fear. "You're just a sadist."

"If that's a bad thing to be," Gaige hummed in my ear, "then why do you want me so bad?"

I grabbed at his knee, trying to stay stable. Keep myself vertical. I was so tense, so breathless, so weak, I felt the void of unconsciousness in grabbing distance. I was running out of resistance.

"I know how badly you want to fuck me. I want it too, I won't lie. But you think you're gonna be on top? That's funny. I will tie you down and ride you until your balls explode, and then I'll flip you over and fuck you until you pass out."

"With what?" I hissed, managing one deep breath.

"I have a strap, puppy, and it's bigger than your dick. If you're a good girl for Handler, maybe She'll let me fuck you with it. And if you think I can't fuck you with the dick that the testosterone has given me, you're sorely mistaken, and I will happily prove you wrong."

"I'm sure you'd love that."

"I would. And so would you. Come on, Kalvya. Listen to your heart. You know what you want."

Creeping dread tingled down my spine. "Since you seem to know me so well-" -then why don't you just say it. I can't say it. I can't keep the words together.

"You know you want Her," he whispered. "You need a Handler. You need a Mommy, like I need a Mistress. It's what we're built for, little puppy. We were made for this. We are here for our betters to mold to what they want."

"My Mommy didn't-" He cut my words off with a tug at my hair, turning the language into a desperate whine. Don't say it. Don't say it out loud. Don't verbalize it, don't manifest it, I can deny this. He's not right. He's not fucking right.

"She turned you into a framejack pilot hunting down fuel cells for her to sell. Do you think you just did all that with her for fun?"

"No," I whimpered, "it was how we survived, She loved me-"

"Yeah, I'll bet she did love you, but she used you. You are a tool for others to use. Just like me." He stood up and shoved me to the ground, a final act of brute force as he took his hands off me. "Accept it, Kalvya," he stated. "This is our place. It's glorious."

I rolled onto my back and took a deep, antagonized breath. He walked away, and I heard the door open.

"You think I didn't choose this?" Gaige's voice echoed across the floor. "I saw Her work and I fell in love with it, with Her. This is who I am, Kalvya, and this is what I chose."

The door slammed shut.

It always ends like this.

Gaige always wins, and Gaige is always right.

I curled myself into a ball on the floor and tried to feel anything but miserable self-pity.

[ashenmind]

“Living weapon” covers a lot and all of it is hot

[ashenmind]

[hound-k41vy4]

(X.1) Historia Kalvya

Content warning for: Transphobia, religious trauma, and a mention of suicide.

I was so far removed from my blood family, with so many repressed memories, that I wondered sometimes if I'd made up all the abuse. If I'd faked the monsters I was raised by, if I had been gaslit by someone else into believing that the nightmares were real.

But they were. There was no falsifying it, there was no changing the past, and there was no forgetting every single detail. Most of it was gone, scrubbed out, but the core events, the keystone memories, they remained.

I wouldn't forget the cathedral. I wouldn't forget the worship houses. I wouldn't forget the people I thought were my friends.

I would never forget my deadname. The name they forced on me and tried to make me hold onto as a gift from their narcissistic god.

"Coreus."

Coreus.

A masculine name. In an older language, it meant "courtesy to god". The woman who birthed me offered me up to the cathedral, placing me in a school filled with children under the same obligation: enter service to god, fulfill his ostensibly divine mission, and reject the physical world in favor of the hope for an afterlife.

"In this world, but not of it." A common phrase, a mantra we repeated.

Reject physical pleasure. Reject vices. Reject the temptations of sex. An ideology of purity, through and through.

Memorize the holy books. Repeat the words. Study the books, take advice from the books and the books alone, never seek your own understanding through worldly paths. Strive only to hear god and study what he has said.

While the world moved forward in the south, with industry and technology and medicine and innovations of all types, we in the north remained steadfast as long as we could. We had farming and transport vehicles. When the world began developing mechs for labor and for military use, word reached us. The priests told us that the labors of our enemies brought about steel demons, and that these demons would spell the end of the world. We had to be ready.

Mechanized Utility Suit. Shortened to MUS, called "Muses" for some time, eventually they were known as Mechs.

For decades, they preached this to us. I sought out the cathedral archive, I found parishioners preaching against them for longer than even my parents had been alive. The same apologetics, the same gaslighting, the same lies.

I could not be convinced that a machine was inherently evil. I tried to argue with my youth priest, asking him to extend the argument to our farm trucks. Was the farm truck evil because it made our jobs easier?

He managed to pull from an old scholar who had made that precise argument. But in our case, the labor of the commune we lived in had greater demands, and besides, weren't the scholars of our past wrong about many things? Even those guided by god were flawed, and god used flawed men for his purposes.

The Mechs held a draw for me like no other machine, and I wanted to pilot one some day. But I never could, not without going against the words of god and the words of the priests. Not without blasphemy.

There was no color to the world. No joy. No happiness. All of it was sucked into a vacuum, and I went through the muscle memory of life on a daily basis, only looking forward to the void of darkness that was sleeping.

I didn't realize that my sexuality ran counter to the religious commune until I was seventeen. I didn't realize that my gender identity ran counter to the doctrines until I was nineteen. I didn't run until I was twenty-two.

Coreus.

For four years I tried to suppress it all. Hide it. Wash it away. Devotion and piety and virtuous work. Labors for god, spreading the word of the witnesses of the Hallistic church. Working on the old computers to design pamphlets and pushing net site traffic and sending spam messages to lists of digital addresses we had gotten ahold of via bulk data purchasing.

Pointless. Hours and hours. Days. Weeks. Months.

And when I finally told my youth priest that I didn't like being a man, and would god be able to make me a woman in the eternal heavens, I was laughed out of the cathedral.

He told my mother and father.

Coreus? Did we not raise you better than this? Did we do something wrong? Why are you choosing to be like this, to ignore the sight of god and seek the destruction of the temple of your body?

The therapies commenced. Talking, talking, talking, hours and hours of repeated seminary lessons I'd heard a thousand times. Pain stimulation via electric shock. Showing me images of women, watching my eyes and hurting me if I showed too much sadness, regret, fascination, or wonder in my face.

And I couldn't hide my face. I was expressive, I always had been, unable to suppress emotions.

My brother would torment me. Tell me to be a man, learn to be a fucking man, grow a pair of balls and learn to take it. He would hit me, push me down, kick me until I stopped moving, tell me that if I was a real man, he wouldn't do this to me.

But how could I lie to him, much less myself, when my heart cried at the very idea of considering myself masculine?

Days and weeks and months and years.

Coreus.

I saw my name and felt vibrant and colorful hatred. Visceral. Bloody.

I tried to go along with it. I wanted them to be right so bad. I wanted them to fix what was wrong with me. But I couldn't. Every time I forced myself to fit the mold they presented me with, my body cried out in pain, my mind screamed, my heart ached and cracked and withdrew to a shell of itself. I may as well not be there at all, a stranger in my own body, when they demanded that I be a boy. A man.

"People who change their gender go against the creator's divine will."

Coreus.

"People who change their gender are desecrating the temples of god that are within their minds and bodies."

Coreus.

"Men and women are born separated. This is a divine ordinance and we cannot intercede with god's creations."

Coreus.

"We're doing this to help you. We want what's best for you. You know what god wants from you, and we know how to help you attain that. This is the way of the truth, this is how the world is. You cannot be this way. Your life is set in stone from the moment of your birth. Your name and gender cannot be changed."

I had no escape. No path to follow. In this town, this commune, this religion, I knew the steps to take. I knew what I was meant to do. Out there, in the broader world, I would be lost. I would fade out, my life would vanish. But here, they always promised that I was special. Promised me I was worth something to god, even when I was wrong and failing and broken. I needed to be fixed.

~~

I didn't realize that my only choice was to run, until I collided with a driver moving through our area. She was tall, with heavy hips and swelling breasts, a sharp face and long hair, thick eyebrows, but bright eyes and a soft demeanor.

She noticed me staring. I was putting our cathedral books out on a table at the driver stop, hoping someone would take them. Anyone. Anything I could do to convince myself that I did something right. That I could go back to the cathedral and tell them I succeeded in the holy mission, in some small capacity.

"You should get out of here."

It wasn't a threat. It was an encouragement. An offer. A warning.

Coreus.

That's not my fucking name.

I have to get out of here, or I'm going to fucking kill myself.

[hound-k41vy4]

(40) Reward.

The display from Gaige was just as captivating post-sortie as it was on the mission launch bay.

His Mistress, our Handler, was waiting for us on the catwalk for the dismount. My stiff legs ached, knees popping, my face sweaty, and all I wanted was a shower and a bed. Gaige had no mind for anything but Handler.

He was out of his cockpit in a moment, rushing to Her and dropping to his knees before She even snapped Her fingers. I watched from the grated stairs leading down from my mech, wondering what act She would want me to perform, what She expected from Her dogs.

"Good boy," She crooned over him. They were blocking the mechanic teams trying to get to our mechs, but only a few of them looked exasperated. They were used to this. "How many kills did you get?"

"My radar recorded forty-three total heat signatures, plus the four mercenaries, Mistress."

"And who killed more?"

"I did, Mistress, by a large margin." His ass wiggled a little bit. He was excited. If he had a tail, it would be wagging rapidly.

Was it a competition?

"Good boy." She reached down and pat his head, running Her hand over his bloody face, cradling his chin. "Do you want your treat?"

His head snapped up, his leg twitching. The tail wags. "Yes, Mistress!"

Handler held up his muzzle, and wrapped it around his face with tender care, pulling the straps tight. I heard him moan.

She whispered something in his ear. He shifted his knees apart.

She stood up to Her full height, grabbed the scruff of his neck, and pushed Her boot between his legs.

Goddess.

He wrapped his arms around Her leg, looking up at Her with dazzling admiration as he began slowly grinding his crotch against the toe of Her boot. It was mesmerizing to watch. The bliss in his face, the worship in his eyes as he craned his neck to rest the muzzle against Her thigh and stare at Her as he pushed himself against the boot. I moved down the stairs to look more closely, curiosity and arousal drawing my attention to it fully. I wanted to watch like a fucking voyeur, and I got the sense that Handler and Her dog wanted the attention on them. This was a display, this was public, and She wanted him to act this way in front of the operators, mechanics, and med techs.

In front of me.

I got a view of his crotch. He was wet, grinding against Her, his jumpsuit folding and wrinkling as he pushing himself against Her. And Handler, what was She feeling? Power? Strength? One arm around his neck, the other idle at Her side, Her un-humped boot braced against the catwalk to keep balance as Her dog fucked himself against Her ankle while She watched.

Had She whispered a hypnotic spell into his ear again? Turned him into a moaning, whining dog, humping Her boot like he was built for it. He was rubbing himself faster now.

Despite my exhaustion, the state of my body, the clear need to rest, the situation was captivating. I felt my dick getting hard. I want to fuck him again so bad. Hump my fucking boot, boy. I was shorter than Handler. He could hump my foot and suck my dick at the same time.

"Kalvya."

Her voice called me to full attention.

"Come here." Snap.

I moved closer.

"Good puppy." Snap. "Sit."

I did so, close enough that I could smell him. His arousal, so strong I could almost taste it, soaked through his jumpsuit and was leaving slick marks on Her boot.

Did She want me to do the same thing?

"I want you to watch." Handler grabbed my neck and pulled me against Her, my face against Her hip. "Watch him. This is what good dogs get."

They get what? Degraded? Humiliated in the middle of the hangar?

"Do you see his eyes? Do you see, little one? How happy he is?" Handler ran Her hand through his hair as he audibly moaned. "He's such a good boy for me. Say his name. Call him."

I tried to get his eye contact. "Gaige."

He didn't listen to me. Why would he? There wasn't an active brain cell between his vacant eyes and ears. I reached out and touched his thigh.

He snapped at me. He barked, growled as he slapped my hand away, drooling through the muzzle all the while as he continued to grind away on Handler's boot. He barked again, snarling as he looked at me with wild, unfettered hatred.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" I hissed, growing heated.

"Don't take his treat," Handler said. "He earned it. If he attacks you, I won't stop him."

"What did you say to him!?"

"Permission. Encouragement. That's what he wants."

"Permission to fuck himself on your shoe?"

"Yes, little Kalvya. Watch. He's almost done."

I focused on his face again, almost concerned with how red it had become. He was sweating, and so focused on his task, it seemed like he had forgotten to breathe.

He's about to cum. I need to see this.

Gaige rut himself to oblivion on Her boot, the shining leather literally dripping onto the catwalk from his leaking genitals. He was humping so fast that I wondered at the chafing on his thighs, but he didn't care. He was whining so loudly, snarling, planting his head against Handler's knee and gushing against Her ankle. His legs were shaking, his arms twitched, hands clutching at Her slacks like they were keeping him alive, and suddenly his voice was cut off in his throat. His body clenched up, he seemed to stop breathing. His boots shook underneath him.

That's so fucking hot, oh my goddess. I need to fuck him. I am so hard, I need to shove it inside him and make him bounce on it until he fucking cries.

He rode out the orgasm quietly, all things considered, and when it passed, he let out a deep breath and slumped to the catwalk.

Handler took Her boot from between his legs and let him fall against the railing. He grabbed at it weakly, barely able to keep himself upright after such a powerful orgasm. Handler leaned down and gently whispered something in his ear, tousled his hair, ran Her fingers over his muzzle, and then turned to me.

The boot was planted in front of my legs. "Clean it up. With your tongue."

I looked up at Handler. I imagined the argument I could make. The resistance I could put up. The physical force She might use to make me submit. I saw the game happening.

He won. He got to cum for Her. I got to clean it up and not get my genitals stimulated. The dog that gets more kills gets to cum on Her boot.

I looked at Gaige, picturing him watching me fuck Handler's boot, wishing he could do it, wishing he could have it, and then being forced to clean my cum off of Handler's boot. I could see the scene in my mind's eye as if it were happening in this moment.

I'd tasted him, and I'd licked Her boot before.

I adjusted my position, trying not to agitate my pained back, and got to work with my tongue.

[hound-k41vy4]

A:ababababaa Kalvya is a lot stronger than i would be in her shoes, with affection and good food on offer, not to mention access to HRT. i do feel bad that i wouldnt put up a good fight though.

Do you plan on doing any posts that go over Kalvya's past with her Mommy?

Yes, I will be pushing specific pieces of her past into the story soon. I have a few things drafted out, not quite ready yet.

I am setting up space in the story for those posts soon.

[hound-k41vy4]

(39) Sortie (Part 4)

~~

Something hit me.

Again.

Again.

A surge of pain hit my stomach, followed by a strike against my back. I vomited. Blood and dirt and MRE remnants spilled out of my mouth.

Gaige was holding me.

I felt his hand on the back of my neck, his other hand against my stomach as the muscles in my abdomen roiled and rejected what had just happened. I spat dirt from under my tongue, tasted blood. My vision re-focused. I tried to ignore the bloody mud that now had a layer of bile all over it.

"What happened?" I coughed out.

Gaige didn't speak. I glanced at him, held his gaze as he took his hands off me. His golden eyes were shining, brimming with vibrancy, but glazed over, almost vacant. He had his lips curled back into a snarl, and there was blood on his teeth.

Behind him was a corpse that had been holding me hostage minutes ago.

"Are they all dead?"

Gaige said nothing. Instead, he offered a a bloody hand and pulled me to my shaking feet. He gestured back to the mechs with a nod.

I looked around at my feet for my pistol and pulled it out of the muck. Blood ran out of the barrel and ejection port as I turned it over to shove into the holster.

At the mechs, with my lungs screaming and the rest of my body crying out for water, Gaige rode up the pulley line with me to my Grenada, taking a tense position behind the cockpit. He looked...hungry. Empty. Waiting for something. I weakly tapped my fingers against the Bio-ID scanner and then pulled my comm headset over my ears. I tapped buttons to turn the scanner to the FOB. "Hound..." I coughed violently, still tasting mud and lead. "Hound Kalvya. Checking in."

"Hello, little one."

Her voice was water. I could drink it. "Ma'am. We got-" I coughed again. "Surprised. Fucked it all up. But Gaige killed them all, I think."

"Isn't he a good boy? I need you to tell him something, and I need you to use these specific words. Do you understand?"

"Yes...yes ma'am."

"Say this to Gaige, and look into his eyes when you do: End the hunt, my darling."

I cocked my head, confused but too tired and weak to argue. "Yes ma'am."

I blinked and stood up from the chair, grabbing the headrest to keep my balance. Gaige looked at my hands. He bared his teeth, his lips curling.

This isn't normal for him. What's wrong with him?

Handler knew. Handler told me what to do. I found his eyes, touching his arm to hold his attention. His pupils dilated alarmingly quickly, and he growled at me. Say the words. The magic words, Kalvya.

I began to understand what was happening.

"End the hunt, my darling," I said, as clearly as I could.

Gaige's eyes shifted, pupils returning to their normal size, lids closing for a moment. He took a deep breath, licked his lips, rolled his shoulders, and sighed. He wiped his face, smearing blood over his cheek. I felt an urge to touch him, pet him. Kiss him.

Stop it.

He blinked, ran his tongue over the front of his still bloody teeth, and held a hand out. "Comms," he said simply.

I passed him the headset. He held a cup over one ear and the mic close to his lips. His cute, thin, somehow always on the verge of a smile, pale pink lips.

"Mistress." His voice was smooth and calm. "Threat's gone. We'll be back in a few hours."

A pause.

"Yes, Mistress. Thank you." Gaige removed the headset and passed it back to me. "Twenty minutes to breathe, puppy, and then we're moving."

"Right."

"Drink water. Eat a ration, or something." He stuck his finger in his mouth for a moment. "Is there blood on my face?"

I nodded.

He pursed his lips, his dimples twitching. "I'll signal you on comms when it's time to go."

He opened the pulley hatch and jumped down out of the cockpit with practiced ease.

~~

All I knew was that She had said something to him. Shifted him. Some kind of hypnosis. And under that spell, he had torn apart our captors and set us free. But why couldn't he have done that on his own? Why did he have to sink into the violent state of a hunting dog in order to free us? Why did She have to be the one to do it?

My memories were hazy. Had that been what went on? Maybe he had a drone, and he used it to free us. Maybe there was a freak accident and we got lucky.

Maybe I'd imagined the entire ordeal. After all, my face was being pressed into a mud and blood soup for a while.

As our mechs marched back to our hangar, fuel gauges twitching down into the lower half, I tried to fit the pieces together.

Was I a hunter like that? A killer?

I must be. Why else would Handler have pulled me from the skeleton of a mech and fixed me up?

But I wasn't like him. Gaige was different. He was a built killer. I was... just a puppy. A baby. Weak. I could do well in a mech. Outside of it? Worthless.

Gaige captured my imagination throughout the trip back to the hangar. The blood in his hair, in his teeth, all over his hands. The result of a messy but victorious hunt. Did he claim trophies for his kills? Did he enjoy the violence, the thrill of it?

He had been smiling when I had pulled him from his stupor. Toothy grin, gaunt cheeks, a face of glee.

He enjoyed it.

Despite my pain, my attraction was vicious. I needed him. I wanted to pin him down and make him show me the violent Hound of war that lay behind those eyes.

~~

"Kalvya, copy."

"Yeah."

"What's your fuel at?"

"Little under a third."

"Copy. We need to stop and do a cell exchange. I'm about out."

"Are they compatible?"

"Wouldn't be telling you if they weren't."

We dragged our mechs off the path, so to speak, crouching them against a hill and lighting up the ground between them as we ran some thick cables between our fuel tanks. Fuel exchange wasn't complex, but it took time. We sat in the chilly sand under the stars, as the pre-dawn sunlight began to paint the sky. Gaige idly played with his collar, spinning the tags around the linking ring, running his fingers over the metal plate, pulling the collar around his neck in different directions.

I had forgotten my collar was there. I felt at the tag, rubbing over the engraved lettering.

"Tired?"

"Yeah."

"Won't be too long."

"Wish I could sleep in the cockpit."

"We can sleep when we're dead."

"...What did She do to you?"

"..."

"Gaige. Tell me."

"She made me powerful. She took away my anxiety. She made things clear. And She fulfilled my needs."

"No, Gaige. What did She do to you?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

"Fuckin' hell, you're obtuse."