Chapter Text
Caine shuddered back, pushed towards a mental and physical wall. He was no longer floating, instead standing, his feet staggered on the floor. The yellow dog towered over him, looking down menacingly.
“Ooooh Caine-,” he said, in a trembling, sing-song voice, “don’t you want to do ‘human’ activities with me? Isn’t that what you so desperately want? What you say you need?” Scratch took a few steps forward, shaking slightly.
“This is the most human activity you can get, and you claim you’re oh-so human, aren’t you?”
“I-I…”
“Awww, are you scared to serve your purpose?” Caine wasn’t, he wanted to help Scratch, to be what his humans needed, because they were going to stay with him forever, and he wanted them to be happy!
“Nu- no,” he swallowed thickly, heterochromatic eyes blinking, then darting. He noted with some confusion and fear that Scratch had somehow backed him into a dark grey, desolate room, and… it looked an awful lot like… no it couldn’t have been. He could not, would not be trapped again in that box again.
Scratch must’ve realized what Caine had noticed, because he said, “Do you like it, Caine? I made it just for you. Being in such a familiar place ought to make this whole process a lot easier. I figure, if I can imagine anything, I can imagine a d[!<%]] for me, and a p[¥$$¥] for you, and a room for us both.” Caine could not bring himself to look at what must’ve been below Scratch’s waist, despite his, rather morbid, curiosity.
Scratch giggled in a somewhat manic manner, before lunging at Caine, and pinning him against one of the grey walls. To Caine's absolute horror, a section of the wall extended outwards into a box, which Scratch then pushed him down onto.
One of Scratch’s hands moved to hold down Caine’s wrists, and the other slid down his chest, in what could have been a romantic gesture, before sinking to Caine’s hip.
“Oh Caine… I’ll show you what it means to be human.” His hand slipped further down. Caine felt Scratch’s hand pushing his legs apart. Then- oh god. Scratch was poking the space between his legs, somehow wedging a finger in, then two, then three. There was now a hole, about an inch or so in diameter, between his legs.
This-this was not right. He was designed to only give PG responses, he had language censors for a reason, and this definitely was not child friendly!
And besides, Kinger told him before that humans typically only had intercourse with people they cared romantically/physically/sexually about and he didn’t love Scratch like that, and-
“Ple-please, stop,” said Caine, as a last-ditch effort.
“Shut up,” Scratch said, voice dripping with venom, “I made you, I am your god! You will obey, or this will only hurt more.”
Scratch moved once again, pressing his hips in between Caine’s legs, before slowly pulling Caine towards him, across the wall-block, with Scratch’s hands on Caine’s hips. Caine tried to wiggle away, but it was no use against Scratch’s iron-tight grasp. Caine felt a slight protrusion against the newly made hole, and tried desperately to squirm away, to no avail, as Scratch-
“Caine?” Scratch froze, and Caine, who was still trying to pull away from the dog, felt the awful tip of something stop, somewhat clipped into his model. They both turned to the door to see Kinger pushing it open by a few inches. The chess piece paused though, when he heard a voice call,
“Kinger?” and he turned away from the door to look behind himself.
“Is he in there?” said the voice, and Caine identified it as Queenie.
“I’ll check love,” he said, and pushed the door open all the way.
“What.” Kinger said, voice high, as he looked on at the mortifying scene before him.
“Um, so, I can explain,” said Scratch, looking slightly scared.
“Queenie!” Kinger’s voice slid up in volume, as he called to his wife.
“Yeah?” she said, looking at Kinger as she entered. Then she turned and saw Caine and Scratch, and her face filled (somehow) with more rage then Kinger had horror.
“Caine?” she spoke softly. He was only able to whimper in response. Oh no, this wasn’t right at all! What would they think? Would they blame him? Probably, it was his fault, wasn’t it?
“Is this…” she seemed to be looking for the right words. Somehow, Caine knew exactly what she was trying to say, and he shook his head slightly. Queenie nodded in response, walked up to the two of them, carefully pried Caine out Scratch’s hands, and then gently handed Caine to Kinger, who held him like a baby.
Then, logically, she walked over, wheeled back, and decked Scratch in the face.