Otter-chaos-violence - Otter The Otter :3

served my duty as an autistic artist and made a bunch of autism creature reaction images

Seeing Me in You - Unboxing

Masterlist

cw: pet whump, box boy universe/bbu adjacent, institutionalized slavery, conditioned/brainwashed whumpee

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Ever so anxiously fearful, he had safely arrived to his new home. After so long of training and treatment, he had been prepared to perfection for his purpose. He was going to finally be put to use.

His trip to delivery had proved painful, even if he was used to dealing with common afflictions. Such a tight cage was unfavorable for his hulking frame, and the constant, numerous shakes and bumps of the truck formed noticeable bruises over his skin, and a sour throbbing in his head.

Thankfully, 374629 wasn’t meant to look presentable. Especially not pretty. He knew he wasn’t, having been utterly made sure of it. Not average looking, even, but he was never meant to be. He certainly was not a romantic, nothing anyone would purchase depending on his level of attraction.

Once set to the ground below his master’s doorstep, he made a point not to listen into the muffled conversation mushing together like cotton clouds above him. Reducing it to a buzz in the back of his mind, he kept his brain nice and blank. His belly still whirled in a mixture of terror and excitement to be inches away from his owner, and minutes from finally being introduced to them.

He could clearly hear as the employees transporting him finally left, leaving him alone with his owner. Leaving him to begin his new life.

374629 froze rigid as light began cracking and seeping into his crate, flooding his face with warmth and blinding brightness. On instinct his eyes shut and wound tight, body curling into itself further.

He hoped his master would be a good master. Didn’t everyone? Every master would be good of course, he had to be grateful to have any master at all. He was lucky. Maybe they would be just like his handlers in the facility. He couldn’t help but wish they were. As much as he was in no place to have preferences, he would have liked the familiarity.

But as his master ever so carefully opened his box, revealing more and more of his face, 374629 couldn’t help but on instinct catch a tiny look. And his master was frowning.

It was obvious he was attempting to hide it, lips curling up ever so slightly, almost unnoticeably so. The fake, half smile failed to meet his solemn, moistening eyes that glittered in the light. Not only was he obviously unhappy with his delivery, but his master was crying.

As 374629 turned back away, he could only hope it was his pet’s unsavory predicament that he found so foul.

Covered in his own grime, tears and sweat, boxers shriveled and dirty, his burly figure was contorted every which way inside of his box. His collar wasn’t even a nice leather, rather cheap and itching raw, red marks over his neck.

Maybe his master had never ordered a boxie before. Maybe he didn’t realize his pet would arrive so disheveled.

“S- sorry,” the man sniveled, wiping his eyes with clammy knuckles, “This is just… a lot. More so for you, of course.” 374629 could sense the slightest of a soft smile in his voice, pulsing warmth through his pet’s butterfly-filled belly. 

374629 didn’t know if he was meant to respond. He knew his rules well, repeating one specifically like a mantra in his mind. Do not speak unless spoken to, he told himself, over and over again like the handlers had. But he’d never had someone, let alone a person, apologize to him. Apologize! How could he possibly know what to do?

“Ye- yes, sir.” He squeaked out, meek and shaky. He winced, expecting a quick and burning shock to the throat for his misbehavior - hesitating and stuttering - but, while no longer wearing his training collar, such a punishment never came. 

Eyes peeking open once again, 374629 fixated his vision on the wood paneling of his crate. Pets are never allowed to look their master in the face, he told himself, both reminding him of the rules and silently chastising himself for having the urge to do so a second time. He hoped his owner had noticed his previous mistake of doing so, so that he could receive needed discipline for such unacceptable behavior.

“Hmmm… how about we get you up and out of your box, okay?” His master commanded, although spoken strangely. As if it wasn’t a command, rather a question, but 374629 knew very well that it was. Commands were one thing he was good at knowing. “Unless you feel more comfortable in there, then-,”

Before his master could continue, 374629 swiftly and clumsily stumbled from the confines of his box, plopping to his knees beside it. Again he fixed his gaze somewhere beside his master, this time the concrete floor of the hallway, as much as he wished he could look to the man for approval.

“Oh.” 

The pet tensed. Did he do something wrong? He failed to discern an emotion from his master’s lack thereof, causing his stomach to quease with uneasiness. 

“That’s okay. That’s good, yeah.” The pet could have sighed in relief. “Now, can I ask you a question?”

374629 tensed once again. Another question. He was so terribly confused. Why was his master asking him? Permission, even? It had to be a trick. A test, to see how well he’d been trained, an easy on at that. 

“A master does anything they so desire.” He neatly recited, a smile nearly tugging at his lips. 

He was being such a good boy. Back at training he would have received a quick and concise good by his handler, and the thought of praise, no matter how little and insignificant, could have him practically drooling.

For a moment, his master paused.

“I guess I should’ve expected that.” He whispered, more so to himself than his pet. His tone almost shone disappointment to his words, a realization that could have brought rich bile flooding his pet’s mouth. “I just wanna know, um, what’s your designation?”

He didn’t even need to think to formulate a reply. “WRU, facility 034, Guard Dog 374629.” He recited on the instant, words rolling off his tongue with perfected memorization. His designation was beat to memory, coming completely and entirely natural to him. In the whole interaction, that was one thing he was sure of.

He heard his master swallow, thick with saliva that danced down his throat. “Guard dog?”

“Yes, sir.” He responded, without falter, and utilizing his deep, low chords.

“Me too.”

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Taglist- @softvampirewhump @3-2-whump @taterswhump

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Every single odd number has an “e” in it.

To-cat-ata in B by sympawnies

I figured I'd put up a list of all the weird crap I've found around home as a kid

1. When I was six, a mummified hairless cat just sort of appeared by the house. I had to jump over it whenever I went anywhere. Nobody moved it, it was just there for a few months and then it disappeared.

2. There was a cow head just laying out back for a while. I think my gramma was feeding it to the chickens. I fucking hate the chickens.

3. Every Halloween, my mom would send me to the dead pile to get bones to scatter around the yard for decorations. I never really realized it was weird that we had things called ‘dead piles’, but there you go

4. My brain went fuzzy during a family barbecue and I don’t know what to tell you but I left for twenty minutes and came back with four other girls wearing cow pelvises and tubing as armour and claiming myself to be the ‘mighty lord magnet-tron’.

5. I found a kayak in the forest once. I brought it home, but my gramma stole it.

6. Found a cracked fish tank buried under a tree once. I took it home, but my gramma stole it.

7. There’s a lot of bathtubs in the forest and I don’t know why

8. Someone left a deer head on the porch once. Not sure why. Just the whole head, cut off at the neck. That was odd.

9. There’s just these… Weird, powdery chunks of.. I dunno, something. Just buried all over. I don’t know if they’re soft rocks or what

10. Some friends and I found something big and dead inside a garbage bag under a log, once. We told an adult but they said not to worry about it so we sort of let it go. It’s been nine years and nobody’s questioned it

11. Our rooster killed itself. Not sure how, but it did.

12. A bird carried my cat away when I was 7 and nobody told me so I spent 6 weeks looking for it. I only found half.

13. There’s a lot of skulls

14. There’s a spot out back where kitchen appliances just show up. I found a wok, a toaster, a toaster oven, and two sinks so far.

15. A bunch of porn was just… In the woods. DVDs. And a couple bible-on-casette albums. 3 pairs of prescription glasses. Someone was into some weird shit, I guess.

16. Sometimes the air smells like death and my mom just goes, ‘think it was something big?’ And I have to go find it

17. My gramma keeps collecting toilets and 4 foot tall solid wooden lawn gnomes and decorating the driveway with them

18. Every once and a while the sky just doesn’t go all the way dark at night and I’ve stopped questioning it