#fear of death
Catnip 2 - Wither
CW: tiny whumpee, fear of death, manhandling, proper whump now.
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Whumpee didn’t have another choice.
The woman was playful, almost harmless, sniffing and rubbing her face on him, well, at least at first. It was bad already, he held him too tight and her claws scratched his skin from time to time.
But it was only when she started tossing him from one side to another like a ball that he made something about it. He forced the smell to stop, it was refusing to be himself, but he had no choice.
His body aching and his slightly greenish brown skin was covered in dark bruises when the woman stopped.
“What did you do?” She hissed, her sharp teeth so close to his face.
“I I didn’t.” He lied, “It it I have no no control and-” he whimpered at a new hiss, “….far far from home.”
Whumpee cried fearful, trying to knit the lies with some truth, “I’m I’m not home, I I can’t control this anymore it’s it’s on seasons,” she will kill me, she will find out the truth and kill me, “It it’ll come back but but I don’t know when. I’m sorry.”
The woman frowned at that, and he was sure she would rip him apart right there.
“Boring,” the woman said, finally letting go of him after one final sniffing.
The woman left after that, he can’t get down from the table anyway, it’s not like there is a way out.
His legs weakened and he fell on his knees, his head was starting to hurt and his stomach was starting to turn. He wasn’t supposed to suppress the smell, he would rot slowly if he did, but the woman would kill him if he didn’t.
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