His Pet

Medicine and Guinea pigs

🌺The word guinea pig looks so weird ..🌺

The bitter drink was burning my throat as I lay in silent fear. Am I a useless pet? Are they torturing me for hitting and being sick?

The room was huge and silent as my body seemed to shrink in my panic, it's to much, it's all just to much.

I tried to slowly roll from the bed, crying out as pain flared through my hip. My weak body flopping back down.

Is this what happens to bad pets? I want to be a good pet.

I don't want to fear Master and Wolf this much.

I want to be kept around.

Please, I'm sorry.

I must have fallen unconscious as a soft touch fell on my head, my eyes flinging open.

Master was watching me carefully, looking quickly at Wolf before holding up a bottle, I gulped and watched them carefully.

Master stroked my knotty hair and Wolf poked a spoon at my mouth. It looked to be some weird food, it was soft and bland in flavour, delicious compared to the drink.

I can deal with this.

My confidence felt slightly better as he scooped another spoonful into my mouth, constantly speaking in his language.

I waited nervously as the food stopped returning to my mouth, taken by surprise by the soft rubbery bottle tip being pushed into my mouth. I tried to shake my head and dislodge it, afraid of the possible danger.

I want to be a pet, not some medical guinea pig for them to torture.

Gently Wolf held my head, nibbling softly around my ear and neck. I held my head still, afraid of what he could easily do.

Thick, sweet liquid flowed into my mouth, I paused any resistance and tried to drink it faster, not realising how unbelievably thirsty I was.

Everything forgotten in a desperate sensation to drink, my body cooling as the liquid spread through me, like a cold glass of water, my dry throat becoming more moist.

I glanced up at Master as he stopped squeezing the bottle, my eyes desperate and wide as I begged quietly for more, my body horribly dehydrated.

I could see Wolf grab another bottle, but Master caught my attention as he squirted some more into my mouth, keeping it a pulsing flow, rather then a constant flow. My rational mind telling me if he didn't do it that way I'd drown or vomit, but still my body despised the slow way he hydrated me.

The flow stopped and he removed the bottle, I watched him, hopeful that he would give me more.

What am I doing? I need to be a well behaved pet so they won't torture me, but now I'm forgetting everything.

The realisation hurt, for a second, in that moment, it felt normal. Being his pet and being cared for with a good drink, it all felt normal. I want that.

I want to be a good pet.

I want someone to love me again.

Did they ever actually love me? How could my own family have loved me, just to leave me this way.

My thoughts vanished as I watched the new bottle be held out towards me, my previous eagerness coming back.

I must have been lost in my self pity for a little bit, as the taste in my mouth had gone bland.

The bottle touched my lips and a stray drop of bitterness met my tongue, I shut my mouth just as quickly. I lifted my shaky arm and tried to push it away.