The Pet Project

by Amanda Milo

  Prime’s touch for her was affectionate too; Pet simply didn’t return the sentiment. Something she tried to relay to me on multiple occasions.

  I clear my throat.

  Beastly’s head whips up, and Pet twists, gasping when she sees me. She scrambles up and streaks for her cell—but I catch her by her arm before she can make it inside.

  “Come with me, Pet,” I order her.

  Her steps are easier when I lead her to the exam table rather than Prime’s pen. She keeps her chin raised and her eyes from mine when I ask her to get up on it.

  When I take my seat to inspect her, she opens her legs almost defiantly. She wants me to see what Beastly does for her that Prime cannot.

  Something no one could miss. Her tissues are swollen, and slippery. I’m surprised at the sheer amount of gathered slickness; it rolls over the bottom tong of my speculum’s forceps to stickily coat her labia and rear vent as I examine her.

  I’m shocked at the amount of white-marked excitement gathered at her cervix; I have to check if it’s actually sperm, deposited in her somehow, at an earlier point in a part of their interlude that I missed.

  But no, an examination of the material proves this is mostly Pet’s arousal, produced either due to her elevated hormones, or Beastly’s expert play of her body, or both.

  A small portion is his saliva.

  I lead Pet off of the table, noting how she’s bracing herself; she’s anticipating a return to Prime’s pen.

  I lead her to Beastly’s cage.

  When I look down at her, Pet’s eyes are bright and her lips are parted, her gaze on me grateful—and hopeful, as if she’s afraid to trust this is happening.

  I give her a curt nod. “If this is the male that makes you happy, you can have him, Pet.”

  With a choked cry, Pet throws her arms around me, giving me that tender clutch that I’ve missed.

  I clutch her back.

  When we draw away from each other, Pet’s beaming at me, repeating the same sounds slowly and in multiple, as if she hopes I can learn her incomprehensible form of tender-speak.

  Believe me, I’ve tried. I’ve tried to learn Prime’s too, and I’ve failed at both. So I may not speak tender—but I can discern that this is Pet’s way of showing her gratitude at being allowed the freedom to choose who she’ll mate.

  She brings my hand over her head, petting herself with it to show me she’s pleased with me right now.

  And it makes me glad to see it. Finally, it feels as if I’m doing the right thing for her. For this confirmation alone, she can keep the inferior male she likes so much.

  Giving my Pet a dry look of resignation, I unlock Beastly’s door for her.

  Ux-47 pitches a fit to end all fits.

  I point to him. “You’re about to be reacquainted with the muzzle, which I will keep strapped to your face through two feeding times if you don’t stop that infernal noise.”

  Perhaps the first wise decision he’s ever made—he stops making his infernal noise.

  Pet’s not paying him or his punishment any attention or concern, thankfully.

  I turn back to Pet in time to see her nearly skipping into Beastly’s enclosure.

  At first, Beastly stays rooted in place, staring at the vision of Pet greeting him unencumbered by bars.

  And when she stops in front of him, her hands clasping and unclasping, her shoulders rounded small, her body shifting as she dances slightly on her toes as if she’s nervous and excited at the same time—

  Beastly growls and attacks her.

  Stunned, I nearly leap on him myself. If I’d had his shock controller in my hand at that moment, I would have held down the trigger until he’d been electrocuted.

  But I’m not anywhere near his controller, because I didn’t think he’d harm my Pet!

  The moment before I reach them, Beastly’s spun Pet around—and I register the broad grin on Pet’s face.

  I stop rushing for them.

  Pet throws me a playful wave, and wiggles her rear against Beastly’s groin region.

  He growls again, his hands wrapping hard around her upper arms, bringing her elbows together over her back, pinning her—and Pet smiles wider.

  She’s enjoying his aggressive reaction to her appearance in his pen.

  I exit the pen when he bends her further forward and enters her.

  Unlike with Prime’s breedings, I’m not set up to closely observe their coupling. I decide it might be for the best—their display is too raw and disturbing.

  Beastly bites Pet repeatedly, marking her shoulder, her nape—just as Prime did, but with more fervor, as if he has a point to prove.

  All the while, instead of becoming upset with him, Pet arches under him, crying out in a distinctly excited fashion.

  Beastly answers her with snarls, and low rumbles; clearly delighting in her breathy responses and shrill cries as he takes her body to heights of satisfaction.

  He services her so thoroughly, taking her again and again; I begin to wonder if these two’s coupling is going to require outside intervention simply to prevent Pet from being overbred until she can’t walk.

  I’m searching the storage antechamber for noise-canceling headphones—dear trinary stars, who knew a breeding pair could even make such noise—when Beastly hauls Pet to the front of his cage, plants her hands against the fence, and enters her in such a way that he causes her to gurgle and drop, her knees buckling.

  As if that’s not terrifying enough, Beastly doesn’t even pause his sexual attack on her—he simply follows Pet down to the floor of the enclosure, and ruts her while she lies prone on her belly.

  If Pet’s muffled groans didn’t sound so encouraging, I would have devised a way to peel him off. Since she couldn’t sound more pleased with his savagery, I turn back and redouble my efforts for those silencing headphones.

  I find them. Good thing too, because the breeding pair barely takes a break. And when they stir themselves, they just couple on the floor, staying right where they’d fallen.

  I’m trying to stay focused and type, but out of my periphery, I can’t help but see how Beastly is rocking into her, this time with his body almost completely covering hers on the floor.

  I’m worried about Pet being suffocated, but evidently, Pet is not—with a languid move, she reaches her arm up and above her back, where she strokes her hand against Beastly’s face.

  He drags his bristled cheek over her palm, making her buck under him.

  This encourages him to drag her hips up, forcing her to gain her knees, and he leans back, watching himself as he pistons into her again and again.

  And again.

  “Good Creator,” I mutter to myself. “If she doesn’t conceive, it won’t be from a lack of attempts.”

  At feeding time, the breeding pair are too overtaken with each other to finish their meals. By nightfall, I’ve entered the last of my notes—at a great understatement too. “In Beastly’s case, it would appear age does not at all diminish endurance. Or frequency,” I add wryly, when the pair’s cries signal their culmination yet again.

  I’m late for leaving, but I’m too concerned about Pet’s welfare to close the lab and go home.

  I’d swear Beastly is dragging out their mating; he seems disinclined to rush anything about their last coupling of the day. His thrusts have turned sluggish—a speed which earns no complaints from Pet, who’s arching under the slow kisses he’s placing on every part of her body that he can reach.

  For her part, Pet’s eyes are dark, her pupils so large she’s either aroused or under the influence of powerful chemicals.

  I know for a fact she’s not been introduced to the latter, but I’m inclined to believe there is a possibility of Beastly’s pheromones having drugged her.

  Beastly rolls Pet to her back (and I note—not for the first time—that unlike Prime’s couplings, Pet is pleased to be in any position under Beastly, especially when he takes her belly-to-belly), slides his hands under her shoulders, and wraps
his arms around her. Then he buries his face in her throat and melds their hips firmly together, his back arching with the thrust.

  If I hadn’t seen every variation of tender matings (most of which I viewed today alone), I might have missed that he finished seeding her.

  However, I have become quite acquainted with this pair’s workings.

  And finally, Beastly isn’t male-handling Pet into a new breeding position. He appears as replete as she does.

  I sigh, pleased to see this, and approach the pen.

  The pair pays me no attention at all. They may as well be in their own little world.

  Not disengaging with her yet, Beastly deliberately applies his stubbled face—as sharp-looking as quills—on Pet’s soft skin, burning her breast tissues, her throat, her upper arms, and chin. As he rubs his marks on her, ignoring her hoarse squeaks and laughs, he reaches between them, fingers playing at Pet’s pleasure region until she’s quaking beneath him.

  I pause, hanging back to give them a moment of private time after she cries out. Then I call to her. “Pet, it’s time to leave.”

  Immediately, Beastly’s muscles snap taut.

  Pet rolls up on an elbow, twisting at her torso in order to look at me. Her gaze implores me to leave her in with him.

  “For the whole night?” I ask in disbelief. “Will he let you sleep?”

  Pet snickers, before tossing a besotted look back at the male she prefers to all others. He doesn’t smile back, but this is probably because he’s focusing on her so hard, he can’t. He’s staring at her like he’s trying to memorize every detail about her.

  I point to him. “Beastly?”

  To my gratification, he pulls his gaze away from her to give me the attention I’m demanding. I give him a stern look. “Treat her well.”

  Beastly nods—and to my surprise, he dips his head and utters two tender vocalizations. If I’m not mistaken, this is a tender acknowledging expression—a pleased one. I’ve started a paper on my theories surrounding these sounds, and I hope to glean a recording of the vocalization for further study.

  Pet wriggles until she’s no longer pinned beneath Beastly, and stretches for a moment once she’s free—then she crawls to me, all of her limbs loose, her body so relaxed she resembles a disarrayed little noodle. I reach my fingers through the bars and brush an approving touch over her head, my mouth quirking up when my fingers can’t get past the knots in her hair.

  CHAPTER 11

  “You will let her leave, or I will subdue you, and take her,” I warn Beastly firmly the next morning. It’s difficult not to be cross with him, what with the way he’s snarling at me, challenging me for Pet. But I won’t be moved today. “I’ll be examining her, with or without your approval.”

  She’s bruised, fingermarks and bite impressions painting her everywhere—but as she saunters out of Beastly’s cage, she’s wearing the most satisfied grin I’ve ever seen on a female.

  However, I’m cataloging every concern with dismay. Most notably that she’s almost limping.

  Shoving a cup of pulpy fruit into her hands as she passes me, and handing her a specialized drink that will replace some of her surely depleted carbohydrates and sodium levels, I toss the same onto Beastly’s cot. Then I shut his door and follow my bedraggled, sticky, rut-soaked Pet towards the exam table. “What an animal,” I mutter as I take her appearance in.

  But Pet—her cheeks stuffed with fruit—melts herself against me to offer one of her tender clutches to my midsection, where she also pats me, as if I’m overreacting.

  I sigh, feeling less worried but not ready to concede that just yet. “I’m glad you’re happy,” I tell her honestly, and Pet takes a thirsty swig of her replenishing drink, smiling at me.

  ***

  “Stop that noise,” I warn absently, flipping through another tub of data. I’ve finally found documentation of bath times, not that this is of any use to me now. However, there are a lot more data reels in this tub than for just the four tenders kept in this lab.

  When Beastly grunts at me again, I sigh and set the tub to the side. “I told you. Two more daycycles. At the very least. She’s so swollen I’m surprised she wasn’t screaming under you.”

  Pet laughs in such a way that there’s no question she did scream—and she enjoyed it, which makes Beastly send her a hot look before he turns a smirk on me.

  “Lustful little pests,” I sigh, ignoring Pet’s snickering and Beastly’s rumbling chuckle.

  I’m about to head into the antechamber to dig out yet another tub for categorization, but Pet moves into my path. With evidently no other reason than to display her affection for me, she lifts my hand to her lips and kisses my knuckles.

  Feeling more attached to her than ever, I sift my other hand through her hair. “You’re such a lovely creature.”

  Pet’s lips—her swollen, bruised lips—quirk, and I give her a conciliatory tip of my head. “Very well. Maybe today you don’t appear like a winning specimen”—curse Beastly for molesting her so thoroughly, no matter how much they apparently both hunger for a repeat—“but you’re still lovely.”

  With Pet shadowing me, giving me too-innocent, pleading eyes, it isn’t long before I abandon the data room in favor of feeding the males a little early. I suppose I’d better repeat the double helping I doled out to Beastly this morning too, because he still looks as if he lost a head’s weight overnight, the scoundrel. Did he sleep at all? Did he let her sleep at all? I’ve noticed her yawning today. The objective is to impregnate her; not ravish her into a coma.

  Muttering, I start at Ux-47’s cage, opening his door, calling him forward, and removing his muzzle. He doesn’t try to dodge around me to break free today, which makes me narrow my eyes at him. I back out of his pen, slam his door shut, and drop down to access his feeding tray. I move to measure out his ration, when Ux-47 catches me by surprise—quite literally—reaching right through the bars and taking hold of my wrist. He jerks my hand up to his mouth, and I grit my teeth, preparing for a bite.

  Instead, he kisses my knuckles, almost like Pet did.

  There is one important distinction, however. Pet wasn’t glaring at me as she did it.

  Unlike when Pet did it, Ux-47’s eyes do not hold affection or softness.

  It’s hard, cruel eyes that gaze up at me, showing too much calculation.

  I cuff Ux-47’s ear, slap his hand away, and shoot him with the stunner until I have a mess of urine to spray off of him and off of his floor. “You are a loathsome creature. Do nothing to provoke me; this lab has been offered a fee if we provide unwanted tenders for the purpose of vivisection and research. Don’t tempt me.”

  With that, I move to Beastly’s pen, doling out three rations for him, all the while noting his incredibly relaxed manner today—and his genuine-seeming gratitude.

  Against my better judgement, I unlock his door. Pet skids to a stop behind me, pressing the palms of her hands together.

  I wave her inside. “If you’re sure you want to be in there again…” I don’t even get to finish saying this before Pet’s dashed past me and thrown herself into Beastly’s arms.

  CHAPTER 12

  Beastly’s weeds sprout flowers. Every day, he bestows one upon Pet, and every day, she accepts them with the same enthusiasm and appreciation as if it were the first time.

  Beastly displays high cognition when he leaves a row to go to seed. With this, he replants. Unexpectedly, when I come to collect Pet one day, he sends her out the door with a handful of flower seeds—which Pet takes to Prime.

  Prime looks as stunned as I feel, and accepts them with a vocalization to her and a deep nod to Beastly.

  Pet spends much of her time with her male, and I find myself… lonely. I miss her when she’s not beside me. I miss her so much, that when she’s locked in Beastly’s pen with him, I begin to take Prime out, training him to sit quietly beside me.

  Of course he doesn’t require much training at all. He’s watched Pet and he’s fantastically well
behaved. I would lament once more that Pet won’t have him, but she's so superclustered pleased with her Beastly that I can no more in good conscience complain.

  When Prime isn’t out, I begin to leave Beastly’s cage door open so that the radiant pair can venture out together.

  Pet is thrilled.

  I obtain the largest kneeling pillow on the market but find it still doesn't quite fit Beastly’s frame. Up close, without the safety of welded and woven chain fence separating us, he’s actually larger than he seemed. He may not match Ux-47 in size, but he’s much, much larger than Pet.

  He doesn’t use his size to intimidate or harm though, never abusing his privilege. Beastly is cautious when loose, but grateful, and behaves admirably, never mounting Pet outside of his cage—though he does drag her back into his pen from time to time to attack her, which always makes her giggle and purr.

  I like seeing them both so carefree.

  It’s with a smile on my face as I listen to the oversexed pair frolic that I begin my most concentrated, sincere effort yet to organize the data room. Each time I attempt this, I find I would rather literally do anything else—even wrestle Ux-47 down to clean and disinfect the wounds that have sprouted everywhere his muzzle chafes his face.

  But I’ve already done that today.

  I’ve cleaned and disinfected everything, including the tenders. I’ve caught up on all my notes and even my interoffice mail.

  With a groan, I wade into the room and begin.

  ***

  Pet’s bleeding does not come.

  I’ve never been so beside myself with excitement as I am the daycycle I confirm my Pet is pregnant. Beastly grasps the concept just fine, because when I release Pet from the exam table and load her down with treats, she takes herself right to Beastly’s cage, where they celebrate.

  He even places his large hands over Pet’s stomach, staring down as if he can see the tiny speck they’ve created, and if he becomes a little more aggressive in his protection of her, I allow it because I approve.

  With this success, I’m promised an additional female for our program—with more to come, especially if Pet produces any rare morphs.