#facility whump
For@whumpawoman Angstpril! Day 15 - Hidden Injuries
Sunny and Star Crew: @ashintheairlikesnow@whumpinggrounds@whumptakesthecake@justplainwhump@whumpfessional@winedark-whump@painful-pooch - let me know if you want to be added/removed!
CW: pet whump, BBU, facility whump, lady whump, nonsexual partial nudity, dehumanization, possesive whumper
***
“Lift in three…two…one.” Devin Greco lifts up one side of 728501 while another Guard Dog handler, Analyn Reyes, grabs the other side of her. Together, they move the trainee onto a metal table, her pale skin almost sickly in the harsh lighting. Greco looks down at her, smirking. “You’re good, Analyn. I don’t need you anymore.”
“I want to stay,” Analyn says, her voice smooth. She moves to stand by the wall. “You’ve talked so much shit about how you got this trainee, I want to see what’s under the surface.”
“We’re lucky she’s drugged.” Greco starts stripping 501 down to her undergarments. “Since you’re here, grab the clipboard and start taking notes.”
When he’s got 501 out of her clothes, his eyes go wide. “Holy fuck.” 501’s got some scars on her, some injuries that he didn’t find during intake, hidden by that stupid baggy shirt she was wearing when he grabbed her. She’s only been at WRU for two days, not long enough for all the marks to heal, and certainly not long enough for some of these scars to fade.
“What?” Analyn asks.
Greco gives her a long look. “You can come see, but don’t get too handsy.”
“Don’t worry, I don’t want to get too close to the fucking mutt,” Analyn says, walking back over. “Holy shit.”
Greco smirks. “Told you. Alright, let’s get this started before she wakes up and starts trying to bite. Hands are—”
“Start from the head and work down,” Analyn says. “Head, neck, torso, arms, legs.”
He glares at her. “Fine.” He turns all of his attention back to the pet on the table, reaching out to push her brown hair out of her face with his gloved hands, already planning her next punishment. “Tiny, tiny scar on her right temple. Practically unnoticeable.”
“Got it,” Analyn says.
“Nose is crooked by…not much. Maybe half a degree. Shouldn’t be noticeable to any perspectives. Hell, I think it gives the kid some character.”
“Leave the personal comments out of it,” Analyn says.
Greco rolls his eyes. Analyn Reyes is a good Guard Dog Handler, but she’s all protocol, no fun. Doesn’t bend the rules, not even with something like 501. The rules are meant to be broken when it comes to a feral, gorgeous mutt like her. “Faint scar on cheekbone, bruise on jaw,” he calls out. “My girl’s a spitfire.”
“Your girl is going to be a fucking menace, based on what you’ve told me so far.” Analyn taps her pen against the clipboard. “Need me to take the collar off so you can look at her neck?”
“No. I saw it when she came in. There’s nothing there.”
“You mean when you had her tied to a chair for days trying to see to see if she would break.”
“I’m glad she didn’t,” Greco murmurs, tracing his fingers across the trainee’s shoulders, admiring the strong muscles there. “I’m going to make her crumble into a million different pieces so I can be the one to tape her back together.” He pulls his hand away, only to slap her across the face.
Analyn makes a face, seemingly annoyed. “Next thing?”
“Worried she’s going to wake up?” He shoots her a smug smirk. “I want to see what the kid was hiding from me during intake. All the damage that this body has taken.” He runs his gloved hands down her torso, lingering on a wicked two inch long scar, tiny dots from stitches on either side. “Well, hello there,” he says, running his hand over where the scar divots into her skin. “Kid got stabbed.”
Analyn looks over. “Seems like it.”
Greco’s eyes lock back onto the sleeping face of 501. “What else are you hiding, Marlow?”
“728501,” Analyn corrects.
“Does it matter? I like knowing her name. Makes it so much better looking at her now.”
“Anything else on the torso?”
“Relax, Analyn.” Greco puts his thumb against 501’s lip, parting them. “I think she’d look amazing with some metal fangs.”
“Greco. Irrelevant.”
Greco shrugs. “Not to me.” He pulls his finger away from her lips, tracing her arms. “Few faint scars on the arms, looks to be shallow knife wounds. Her knuckles are bruised, but I guess I already knew that.”
Analyn makes the notes quickly, and Greco moves onto her legs. “A few various knife wounds on the legs. Nothing much. But damn. She’s muscular.”
“Already knew that.” Analyn frowns. “Flip her over.”
Greco eases his arms underneath the sleeping trainee and rolls her onto her stomach. What he sees makes him stop in his tracks, makes anger cloud his vision, his mind roaring with thunder. “What. The. Fuck.”
“Oh, *shit.*” Analyn keeps tapping her pencil against the clipboard. “How…”
501 has a massive bruise spanning most of her back, a combination of purple and angry red, swollen up from her skin. Greco gingerly reaches his hand to touch it, feeling how warm it is. It’s almost like 501 was attacked by a wild animal, thrown into the wall over and over again. If she hadn’t been walking this morning, Greco would have assumed something was broken.
“How did this happen?” Analyn asks, her voice hushed.
Greco’s still trying to figure that himself, running through all possible options in his head. It couldn’t have happened today, he hasn’t left his girl alone—
He went home last night and left her under Handler Robinson’s care. “That *bitch,*” he hisses, pulling out his phone and calling her.
“What?” She answers in a bored tone.
“What the fuck did you do to my dog?”
“She jumped at me. So I had one of my trainees teach her a fucking lesson.”
“No. Fuck that. She could beat the shit out of all your trainees.” Greco’s vision is going red at the edges, he can barely breathe. “Tell me the truth, Analyn, or I swear to fuck…” Greco’s got plenty of influence around here, just as much as Willow, but he has more…connections than her.
“I’m telling you the truth. I had one of my trainees use her back as a punching bag while she was tied up and muzzled.”
“Who gave you permission to do that to her?”
“I have seniority over you, Greco. And she’s fine.”
The line goes dead, and Greco stares at his phone, seething. “That bitch.”
Analyn snickers. “She had it coming.”
Greco stares at her “Don’t. Don’t even go there.”
“Fine. Fine. I’ll note this in the injury report.”
“The bitch mutt fucking hid this from me, too.” Greco grabs 501 by the back of her hair and yanks her head back. “Oh, kid. I’m going to teach you one hell of a lesson when you wake up.”
“I’ll forward this information over,” Analyn says.
“And find out which one of Willow’s mutts did this to my girl.”
She gives him the middle finger. “Do I look like your fucking secretary? Figure it out yourself.” With that, she walks out of the room, leaving Greco alone with 501.
He begins carefully redressing her. “I didn’t want anyone else to touch you,” he murmurs into her ear, not caring that she can’t hear him. “Those mutts are nothing like you. They’re worthless.”
Marlow Lancaster. 728501. Greco wants to ruin both.
“I’m going to give you purpose, kid.” Greco grabs a muzzle, fastening it to 501’s face. “And I’m going to show you that you should never fucking lie to me like that. You tell me everything. Even if I don’t ask.”
It’s funny, how innocent she looks in her slumber. Like a true eighteen year old, barely old enough to vote, not even old enough to drink. But she’s not human. She’s a vicious, bloodthirsty mutt.
“If you’re extra good—“ He runs his hand through her hair. “I’ll let you really fuck up the dog that hurt you. Wish you could hear me right now, kid. You’re mine. Understand? Mine.”
It’s laughable that she thought she could go to college. Something with so much potential shouldn’t bother with that.
“Mine. You’re never going to forget me, not even once we’re apart. Mine, kid. All mine.”
