Chapter Text
All bitties want to please their owners.
It was well-understood. Bitties are often emotional support companions for this very reason, because they are devoted to their masters and their happiness and comfort. Bitties are fully cognizant, but whether they are the Slender or Stocky types, they all want to make their masters happy.
When he was born, it was amongst beloved bitties. He remembered the way his mother's masters cooed and awwwed over him, how carefully they marked his growth. They talked about him like he was a prize, and he was! He had all the hallmarks for good breeding. Sturdy, willowy, with glossy, perfect bones, and cute freckles which was apparently a rare pattern. He even demonstrated healing powers, which was always a bragging point.
When they finally sold him, he was excited! His new master was a human with dark eyes, and he spent the ride to his new home in the front pocket of his shirt. He wondered if his new home was as nice as this man's cologne smelled!
“are we almost there?” He asked after a long while.
“Shush,” his master said, one dark eye looking down at him. He mimed zipping his teeth and locking it, and his master chuckled.
Oh. That was nice!
He was eager to please him even more, he hoped.
So he didn't complain when his master grabbed him a little too roughly to drag him from his pocket. He didn't make a sound when he carried him by his delicate arm, even though it hurt to dangle like that. And when he was thrown into a cage to the sound of laughter, another human saying “Hey, be careful with the little Bitch.” and his master just said “Don't worry, Slenders always land on their feet. He's fine.” even though he'd clearly ended up face-first into a dusty cage floor, he just smiled.
His master must be…new! New to owning bitties! Yes, that's it. He just doesn't know how delicate he is. He'll learn.
It was cold here. He rubbed his arms, trying to gain some friction, but all he wore was a thin gown. He missed his pants and sweater he'd had when he left the breeder's house.
His master was in and out. It had only been a few days, maybe he was just getting his real living space ready? When the door to the basement opened, he could see the light spill in and smell food cooking. His magic rumbled, but the pellets he got in the morning were tasteless at best. He'd nibble at them if he got desperate, but he bets a real meal is on its way.
It had to be.
As if to answer his thoughts, the door opened and his master appeared.
“master!” He said, delighted, gripping the bars of his little cage. “i've been waiting for you! i was wondering…who's that?”
His master opened the top hatch, tossing another bitty inside the cage. “Shut up, bitch. Just do yer job and take care of Breaker.”
“um, okay,” he squeaked, approaching the bitty slowly as his master closed the hatch. “if i take care of him, that would make you happy?”
The man snorted. “Yeah. Sure. Real happy.”
So even though his master quickly retreated, he approached the bitty slowly. It was a Stocky bitty, bones wide-set and skull more rounded where his own was longer. He'd never seen one so big before, but he'd only seen the ones his own breeder bred. Maybe there were others that got bigger.
“oh, you're hurt,” he cooed, and the bitty jerked his head up, looking at him with wild eyelights. “it's okay! i won't hurt you! master said your name was breaker? i think mine is bitch. it's nice to meet you!”
Breaker grunted, cradling his arm.
“i think i can help with that,” he said, and Breaker hesitated, but extended his arm.
It was broken in two places, and he looked it over, thumbing the breaks, letting his magic soothe the pain away. The breaks healed about halfway, not fully and not cleanly, but enough. Breaker let out a relieved sigh.
“there we go,” he said, pleased with himself. “maybe i can look at those bruises next--hey!”
Breaker had grabbed his arm, painfully hard, throwing him to the plush pillow that served as his bed.
“Hot,” Breaker grunted, and Bitch struggled against him. “You help. Smell good.”
“i can help,” he agreed, remembering his master asking him to take care of this bitty. “but i don't know what i can do here--oh!”
Breaker's claws raked against his pelvis, and something instinctive took over, filling in the blanks. His flimsy dress tore, and magic flooded his pelvis, magic that Breaker instantly began to lap at, the unfamiliar sensation jolting up Bitch's spine. He could only moan, confused but also excited by the action, but before long Breaker was mounting him, his own magic forming something to fit. He rubbed it along Bitch's magic, and before he could protest that he wasn't sure it would fit, he was shoving it inside.
It was weird, but nice. Bitch could feel a hot sensation take over, numbing the pain, and he didn't hate the activity; he just wished Breaker was a little nicer about it, that's all! But Breaker was saying a lot about how good it was, how he felt good and was doing so good, so Bitch was fulfilling master's wishes. He was making Breaker, and therefore the master, happy.
…right?
It was called sex, as he learned later after Breaker's head had cleared some and he was able to talk more than a few words at a time. He didn't want to share what he was doing that got him so hurt. But later he learned from the other bitties that came to him for healing and more sex that they would fight until one of them couldn't anymore, and the one still standing got to go see him.
He was a reward, they said. The master would check with him regularly afterward, and at first he'd thought he was looking at him to see if the other bitties had hurt him, but they didn't hurt him nearly as much as the master did. He tried to ask why the master was angry, when all he did was look after the bitties like he asked, did what they wanted, even healed their hurts so they could fight again sooner.
“What kind of stupid bitch bitty can't even get pregnant?” His master asked, shoving rough fingertips into his joints and ribs, looking to see if anything was sticking around. “I spent a lot of fucking money for you so I could breed my prize bitties! Can't you do anything right?!”
He flinched at the master's yelling. He tried to remember what he'd heard about babies at the breeder's, to help however he could. “i…i don't think i can have babies unless i'm in heat?”
“Then we'll have to put you in heat,” he growled.
He yelped as his master tossed him back into the cage, where one of his regular visitors awaited him. This one's name was Bruiser, and he was a Slender type bitty like him, but so, so much bigger.
Bruiser helped him up, his legs shaking beneath him. His eyelights were reassuring pips of light against the dark of the basement.
“are…are you hurt?” He asked him, trying to look him over.
Bruiser shook his head. “Not as much as you. That leg is bad.”
Bitch ran a hand over his leg, flinching when it stung, the bone lacerated and bleeding. His healing didn't work on himself. “can't do anything about that. can help you, though.”
Bruiser tore his shirt, wrapping the fabric around the cut and tying it tightly. “You need to rest.”
He started to protest. “but your reward–”
“I'll win again,” Bruiser said sternly, his eyelights shining with determination. “I'll be back. You can't keep doing this.”
“but it's my job,” he said weakly. “if i don't, the master won't be happy.”
“He's not happy anyway,” Bruiser pointed out. “Haven't you noticed? He doesn't care.” Bruiser patted his head, as gently as he could but still rather rough. “I do. You do. That's why I win. Because you care. You heal us.”
He hummed, some part of him cynically considering it even as he outwardly rejected the idea. “master cares…breaker says--”
“Breaker's dead,” Bruiser said simply, and Bitch jolted in surprise. “You know, Bitch isn't even a name. He just calls you that because that's what you call a bitty meant for breeding. He uses us, he breaks us, and then disposes of us. He's going to break you, too, if you don't start giving him babies.”
“but…i can't without heat,” he said, and Bruiser shrugged. “what's he going to do?”
“Find a way to make you go into heat.”
The drugs were nasty.
At least the food pellets were just tasteless. The drugs were awful. Some sort of hormone, he heard his master explain to a friend. It made his bones hot, made him itch. He wanted more sex but that scared him. Any bitty they put in his cage would go wild at his scent, when he used the drugs, and he'd end up with more bruises than ever before. His master never responded to his pleas for help, just roughly checked him for pregnancy and tossed him back, disgusted, when he found none.
Bruiser stopped coming, after a while. New bitties came instead. Rager and Gambit and Wreck, they came most often. He never heard what happened when a bitty stopped coming, nobody had been as honest as Bruiser. He was so desperate for companionship that he didn't even care how much they hurt him, at this point.
After a while he didn't need the drugs. He was locked into a constant heat cycle. Once a week, if he was counting days correctly. Which he could very possibly not be.
Then there was quiet, suddenly.
At first, his master came tearing through, swearing and packing things. Then he took the cage that had been Bitch's home and shoved it into a cupboard, closing off what little bit of light he did have and ignoring his cries of pain at the rough landing.
“Just shut up!” His master spat, slamming the door. It rang cacophonous in his head. “Stupid fucking bitch cost me five fucking grand and you never gave me even one new bitty. Stay there and rot for all I care!”
And then silence.
Horrible, horrible silence.
He shivered in the dark, and the cold. He still had some pellets, but they were scattered now, he had to hunt for them, and he wasn't sure how long they would last.
He tried to count his days, but it was difficult without anyone coming in or out. The darkness and stillness of this cupboard in the basement was all he had to go on. His heat marked the week, and he suffered it alone. He felt like he might die, the heat too much to bear, he didn't have any way to relieve it without a partner. It passed…then came back, marking another week.
Eventually he did run out of pellets. He was holding his very last one, taking tiny nibbles, trying to survive. Surely master would come back? Surely he would see that Bitch had survived, and be proud of him? That he was strong, and could still make good strong babies for him if that was what he wanted?
He heard the creak of the basement door, and the last nibble of pellet fell from his dirty hands.
Several pairs of feet. And voices. None of them sounded like Master.
“Search every corner of this place!” One of them growled out. “The bitties from the fighting ring that survived all say there was a breeder bitty down here. Angelo didn't take any bitties with him when he fled, the bitty has to be here!”
It wasn't his master. But he didn't care.
He banged his weak fists against the cage, raising his voice, damaged from disuse and dust. “...here! i'm over here!”
“Wait. Quiet!” The voice hissed, and the other voices and feet all stopped.
He tried again. “over here! please! in the cupboard!”
There were a few sharp steps, and then blinding light as the cupboard flew open, revealing a skeleton monster, a regular sized one, who looked in at him in astonishment.
“Holy hell,” the man cursed. “It's barely alive!”
Gloved hands swiftly unbuckled the latch, and he flinched, expecting the monster to grab him.
“Don't be afraid,” he said, his deep voice soothing. He opened his eyes and saw his palm laying out, patiently. “I won't hurt you.”
His legs shook as he stood, stumbling into the palm, and finally, finally he was lifted from his prison, into cupped hands that were oh-so-gentle.
“You're safe now,” the man cooed. “I'm Edge. Do you have a name?”
“he called me bitch,” he admitted, but it felt embarrassing to say, for some reason. “but, um…i don't think it was a name.”
Edge frowned, but he didn't think it was at him. He flinched anyway. A gentle thumb brushed over him.
“It's not. Don't worry, we'll get you a name.”
“okay,” he mumbled, and then he laid his head down.
And gave in to sleep.