Rating: T for occasional language. Also, see other warnings.
Disclaimer: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and all related characters belong to Nickelodeon.
Summary: Bradford has always blamed Michelangelo for his misfortunes and especially for his mutation so when he manages to capture the young ninja, he's going to make sure he knows exactly what it's like. 2k12 AU.
Warning: Warnings for physical and mental torture in this story abound, as well as for implied and highly disturbing situations. Trigger warnings may apply for some chapters. There will not, however, be gruesome details. Some things are best left up to the imagination.
How Much is that Turtle in the Window?
ch 2
Moaning in agony, Mikey carefully peeled his eyelids open, blinking away the grittiness left by long dried tears. Then he blinked again. Wherever he was was pitch black and he couldn't see a thing, no matter how hard he squinted or tried. He lifted his head painfully, wincing due to the constrictive collar clamped around his throat and tried uselessly to work his jaw, feeling something tight and painful digging into the sides of his face and up to the back of his head. His eyes widened in terror as his hands shot up to his face, vaguely recalling Stockman suggesting to muzzle him. Then he cried out in pain as the terrible burn on his arm pulled excruciatingly and his hands smashed solidly into his face in his panic.
For several minutes, Mikey lay there gasping and panting in agony, trying desperately to get enough air in through his nose with the obstacles blocking his mouth and squeezing his throat. Eventually, once he didn't feel like he'd collapse from lack of air, he gingerly reached for his face again, intending to follow the straps to where they were tied or buckled and remove the offending device but to his further horror, he discovered he couldn't feel his fingers against his skin. Hell, he couldn't really feel them period, he realised as he frantically and unsuccessfully tried to flex them.
Mikey whimpered again in discomfort as he carefully rubbed his still chained hands against his leg, trying to feel his fingers as he thought that maybe his face was just too numb from the straps cruelly digging into it. He stilled at the vaguely familiar rough sensation against his legs and shook, wishing he could at least see something, anything!
He needed to know exactly what they'd done to him while he'd been unconscious but how could he when he couldn't see or feel properly?
Unlike the rest of his body, there was no pain in his fingers or hands, only the numbness of pins and needles from not having moved them in probably hours. Figuring it unimportant, Mikey dismissed that thought and returned to rubbing his hands lightly against his bruised legs, concentrating on the odd sensation again. He knew it from somewhere but couldn't understand just why he felt it now of all times. Several minutes later, he finally realised he recognised that slightly rough texture, from back when he'd broken his wrist after landing wrong while doing handsprings a few years ago. Donnie and his father had been forced to encase his wrist in plaster to help the bones heal and that's what he was sure he felt now around his hands but it didn't make any sense. As badly injured as he'd been upon being captured, he was sure nothing had been broken and even if it was, he doubted very much the Foot would care enough to treat the break unless it was likely to kill him if they didn't. The one thing he could be sure of after all, was that both Dogpound and The Shredder wanted him alive. He shuddered involuntarily at the terrifying thought.
Trying not to strain his burnt arm and ignoring the shortness of breath as best he could, he carefully pushed himself up to a sitting position where panting, he leant on his right hand as he strained to look around in the darkness once more. However, there was still no light to see by which meant he'd have to feel his way around and he needed to know the lay of the land if he was ever going to escape. Suddenly, he cried out in frustration as he realised that with his hands encased as they were, he wouldn't even be able to feel his way around.
They were going to move him asap, he remembered finally once he calmed down enough, to a shipping container. In preparation for moving him out of the country, Dogpound had said to Dorkman.
His eyes widened in renewed panic. He'd seen so many T.V. shows and movies where people were smuggled into or out of the country in shipping containers and so many of them died. From extreme heat or cold, from lack of food and water or even air in some cases where not enough seeped inside through the gaps of the container and there were too many people trapped inside for what did make it in.
Oh god! He was so thirsty!
Hungry too! He'd eaten before being captured but how long ago was that now? How long had he been trapped in this awful place?
He could barely even breathe now!
How the hell was he supposed to survive a trip in a shipping container all the way to Japan when he was chained up like this?
Mikey closed his eyes, willing himself desperately to calm down and settle his panicked breathing before he had a full-on panic attack or hyperventilated. There would be no hope if he couldn't calm down enough to even look for a chance to escape.
Finally able to breathe and think again, he eased onto sore knees, feeling the two-inch-wide metal collar shift and pull painfully at his throat. He winced again but forced himself to ignore it as he further pushed his way to his feet even as his chains clanked noisily. Mikey froze and then carefully twisted his hands to grasp at the offending chains to silence them, lest he warn anyone possibly guarding him that he was looking for a way out, only to be reminded that the plaster casts engulfing his hands stopped him from grasping at anything at all.
"Help me," Mikey tried to whisper in despair but thanks to the gag stuffed in his mouth, he couldn't even move his tongue and what little noise did make it past was badly muffled. He let out a quiet, choked sob, hanging his head and wincing as his chin pressed into the rough, hard edge of the collar.
He couldn't simply wait for rescue. His family would be searching desperately for him by now, yes, but Shredder was having him shipped away as soon as possible. They might not make it in time so he had to find a way out now! Before it was too late!
Using his determination to shove aside his fear, Mikey lifted his head again and jutted out his chin. Slowly, carefully, he slid his feet along the cold metal floor; he had no idea where the walls were or what else was in here with him as it was far too dark to see. He stretched almost useless hands out in front of him, feeling for the walls. Sure, he wouldn't be able to feel them, per se, but he'd certainly be able to tell when he came across any obstacles at least.
It only took a few shaky steps before the hollow thunk of his solid hands hit metal and slowly, he ran one lightly across the corrugated waves of his prison. He turned his head in the darkness, trying to look around again before leaning his good arm, his right one, against the wall. The chill of the faintly oxidised metal made him shiver with cold.
If he could have, he would have bitten his lip as he considered his options but instead, ignoring the faint dizziness that swelled, he shook his head, reminding himself to focus and that he could find a way out. He could do this! He just had to have confidence in himself.
Thus encouraged, Mikey began following the wall until suddenly the collar dug in and pulled at his throat, choking and yanking him down painfully onto his shell.
It was as if Raph had clotheslined him again and for several minutes, all he could do was lay there, gasping and struggling for breath. Finally, when he was able to breathe again, he shifted, moving his chained hands and ignoring the taut, angry pain in his left shoulder, up above and behind his head, feeling around as best he could against the collar. Then he froze as he came across an unyielding obstacle. Shaking slightly at the implication, he shifted his hands further so his forearm rested against it instead and he concentrated on feeling out the shape.
"No!" Mikey screamed frustratedly through his gag. They couldn't have!
And yet... they had...
Attached to the collar he could feel a metal D ring and to that, a chain.
They'd chained him up like a dog! Like the dog Shredder wanted him trained as.
Mikey sobbed in terror. Mutant or not, outcast or not, he was a living, breathing, thinking person. He wasn't meant to be owned or treated like a helpless animal.
And yet, that's exactly what they were doing.
-:-
Sometime much, much later, a faint sliver of light shone through the cracks skirting the door at the far end of his prison. After shivering from cold and fear all night, Mikey tried making his way towards it but he couldn't even make it half the distance before his leash pulled him to a harsh, choking halt. Not enough light penetrated the gloom to make anything out but still, he squinted desperately into the darkness and could only barely make out his hands before his face. Too bad they showed as nothing more than slightly lit shadows in a room darker than night deep in the old, forgotten catacombs beneath the sewers.
Suddenly, he heard a sound from outside and he sat up on his knees alert, scarcely daring to hope that despite the daylight it was his brothers or April come to rescue him. The sound began to move away and he shot to his feet.
"Help me!" he screamed past the gag. "I'm in here!" But only a faint muffled cry made it through. His eyes bulged at the reminder of just how bad his predicament was and no longer caring who was out there, even the possibility of being handed over to the government was better than this, he threw himself bodily at the side of the shipping container, slamming his hands and shell repeatedly into the wall until finally, lightheaded and struggling for breath, he collapsed, physically unable to fight any longer.
As he worked to simply breathe and regain his breath, he stared listlessly towards the light. No one was coming. Either they hadn't heard him or they'd been paid by the Shredder to ignore any and all sounds from inside here.
Finally, exhausted and unable to get comfortable, he closed his eyes and laid on his right side, not daring to roll onto his left like he usually would; just the mere thought of putting any amount of pressure on the badly burnt arm filled him with dread.
-:-
As the day wore inexorably on, the heat began to rise and the air became unbearably stifling.
All Michelangelo could do was lay there lethargic and panting through his nostrils, his eyes flickering around disinterestedly from time to time. His mouth was so dry that even though his tongue was pressed down by the gag stuffed into his mouth, he could feel it glued to the offending rag. He could barely think and moving took far too much energy. The physical pain he was in from his beating at the hands of Dogpound and the Foot and then being branded took a backseat to the overwhelming heat in the air and it oh so briefly crossed his mind that he could very well die in here if he was left much longer.
Somehow, he couldn't muster up the energy to care.
-:-
The limited light faded slowly before his slit gaze until everything was pitch black once more but the heat didn't recede with it. He felt nauseous and weak and the burning from the brand below his shoulder stabbed with every sluggish beat of his heart.
His forcibly clenched fingers cramped painfully and all he wanted to do was stretch and flex them and use them to scratch that damn itch in the spot he could barely reach at the best of times. Not that he had the energy to do so even if he could.
Where were his brothers? His father?
He knew he wasn't in an obvious place to search and even if they thought of trying a shipping container there would be hundreds to search through in the yard but still, surely they should have given him some sign of looking for him by now. Even if it was only via a spiritual message through the Astral like he knew his father more than capable of. Providing of course that he was currently able to hear such a thing. With how he felt now, he had his doubts. But still, he wanted, needed, that confirmation, that acknowledgement so desperately just to know he wasn't as alone as he felt.
Mikey closed his eyes to try to conserve what little energy he had, only to wind up opening them again when keeping them shut proved to take more effort than simply letting them be. Not that it made any difference in the grand scheme of things anyway, given how there was zero visibility in the large, oversized hot box he'd been imprisoned in.
He sighed miserably. He was no Donnie or Leo but he had to think of a way out of this for himself, preferably before he became even weaker.
Suddenly, the sound of a key turning in a lock made it past his fugue and he wearily sat up, staring intently toward the door. The squealing of a rusty bolt sliding sounded painfully but Mikey resisted the urge to clamp his hands over his earholes. Then, after hours of darkness, an agonisingly bright light was directed at his face and he cried out, eyes watering painfully as he tried to shield them from the burning light.
A low, vicious laugh sounded, "Bit warm in here, isn't it, mutt?"
Dogpound. Mikey glowered.
"Amazing what one warm day of sun can do for a place like this after several days of cloud and rain."
Somehow finding the strength despite being so sapped from a long day trapped in this place, Mikey leapt to his feet, growling as fiercely as he could at the overly large silhouette in front of him.
The large mutant abruptly raced at him, causing Mikey, who could still barely see with the light in his eyes, to flinch in surprise. Before he could react, an oversized paw snatched at the chain attached to his collar and viciously yanked down. It was all Mikey could do to throw out his trapped hands to avoid faceplanting as he was ripped to his knees, choking and spluttering from the collar cruelly digging into his throat.
"Dogs don't stand on two feet," the hated voice above him sneered as he continuously pulled and twisted at the chain and Mikey became weaker and weaker from pain and lack of oxygen by the moment. "You'd do well to remember that, mongrel!"
Finally, the strength in his arms gave way and for a moment it was only Dogpound's hold on him keeping him suspended. Then the former celebrity released him and he crashed painfully to the ground, landing on his face.
"Not a dog," Mikey tried to whimper as he attempted to pick himself back up. "Turtle." All that made it past the gag though was unintelligible whining.
"Oh, I'm so going to enjoy breaking you," Bradford sneered as he shoved at Mikey's head, rubbing it into the overly warm metal floor. "I'm going to pay you back tenfold for every indignity you ever inflicted on me."
Mikey closed his eyes, not bothering to respond as he worked to regain his breath. Once Dogpound released him, he achingly pushed himself up to a sitting position and just gazed, nictitating eyelids firmly in place, at the other mutant.
Bradford crouched down and yanked at the bandage covering the brand on Mikey's upper arm, inspecting it. Then roughly slathered cream on it before replacing the bandage, wrapping it tighter than Mikey was comfortable with. "Can't have you taking the easy way out and dying on me, " he sneered once more.
Suddenly, Dogpound slammed a bowl down onto the ground before filling it with water from a bottle. Mikey stared down at it desperately, swallowing his whimper before it could escape.
"Hot day like today, you must be thirsty," Bradford pointed out with a bloodcurdling grin.
Like he wasn't already being tortured enough.
"Beg for it like the mongrel you are!"
Mikey's eyes widened and shot back up at the monster in front of him in disbelief. "Eh?" he spluttered unintelligibly. "How am I supposed to do that, dude?" he tried to ask but all that he could hear was a pathetic whining through the gag.
Bradford stared down at him as if trying to make out what he said. "Close enough for now," he grunted, misinterpreting Mikey. "Here's the deal, mutt," he growled, "I'll remove the muzzle long enough for you to drink but if you yell out or try to call attention to yourself, I'll take the water away again and you won't get another chance to drink until tomorrow night." His eyes narrowed menacingly and Mikey shivered under the terrible gaze. "And tomorrow is going to be even hotter. Think you could survive another day without water?"
Mikey shook his head reluctantly.
"Fine," Dogpound stated in dark satisfaction. He reached out with thick clumsy fingers to undo the muzzle and then removed the gag.
Pins and needles immediately filled his face and Mikey carefully worked his jaw, trying to get some feeling back as he stared down at the pet bowl.
"Well?" Bradford snarled impatiently, "Are you going to drink? I don't have all night to dog sit. I have better things to do!"
Mikey nodded quickly and then, for the first time since having light, looked down at his plastered hands. He lifted them up in front of his face, staring at them in chilled horror. They were obviously curled into fists and wrapped in a layer of solid plaster at least an inch or more thick, stylising them into ungainly paws as if he were an oversized puppy. He swallowed painfully, his dry throat catching agonisingly as he looked up at Dogpound again. "How?" he croaked painfully, the single word being all he could manage.
"Like a dog!" Bradford snarled, viciously grabbing his head and pushing him face-first into the bowl and holding him down.
Mikey spluttered and choked, struggling to get free, to breathe. Finally, his tormentor released him and he came up for sweet, sweet air.
Dogpound grinned menacingly and refilled the bowl. "Better not waste any more, that's the last of it until tomorrow," he threatened.
Mikey swallowed and stared down at the bowl again before finally leaning over and trying to drink. The position was awkward and the motion difficult, especially with the collar taut around his neck. At first, he tried simply sucking it up and that worked at first but as the water level receded, it became more difficult and he was sucking more air than water. It also did not help matters that his face was bigger than the bowl and he simply couldn't reach the bottom properly. In the end, he reluctantly darted out his tongue to lap away at the last few precious drops of water.
"Good boy," Bradford mocked as he finally backed away when he couldn't get any more.
Mikey swallowed again, then held up his hands and looked up. "What did you do to me?" he asked hoarsely.
Dogpound's response was to grin maliciously and chuckle. "It was that or have your fingers removed but the Foot physicians assured me that your recovery time wouldn't be fast enough to get you out the compound before your pathetic brothers could turn up."
Mikey's jaw dropped and he stared up at the mutant he once thought of as a friend in horror. A shudder raced through him as he realised just how close he'd come to irreparable damage and never being able to hold his babies again.
Or anything else for that matter.
His gaze slowly shifted down to the paws again. At least this way, when he escaped he'd still have a chance.
Suddenly, Dogpound grabbed at the chain again, yanking his head back and Mikey yelped as he was choked once more.
"Open up," Dogpound growled, holding the wad of rags in front of Mikey's face. Mikey shook his head adamantly, keeping his mouth firmly shut.
"I said, open up," Dogpound snarled again, shaking around the chain which in turn pulled the metal collar harshly into his throat. Mikey began choking once more.
"Wait! Please!" Mikey cried, trying to pull away and failing. "What about food? I'm hungry too!" But Dogpound only took the chance to stuff the rag back in his mouth, before snatching up the muzzle and securing it back in place on the struggling turtle's face tighter than ever. Then he threw him back to the ground.
With him secured once more, the oversized dog mutant left, shutting the door and sliding the screeching bolt home behind him, leaving Mikey alone to curl up miserable and hungry in the darkness once more.
-:-
The next day was another long one for Mikey. The air in the shipping container didn't really cool much overnight and when the sun came up again, it only heated up even more as the day went on. The incredible heat made it hard to sleep or concentrate and other than a brief attempt at meditation in hopes of calling for his father to let them know where he was and a visit to a chosen corner to relieve himself, all he had the energy to do was lay there again.
At one point, he tried to relieve the pressure of the tight collar on his abused throat but even if he could have used his fingers there wasn't enough room to get them in between and pull it away. Instead, he opted to reach his hands to the back of his neck and push at it. The trouble with that though, was that his hands were still chained. Sure, they had a length of chain between them of a few inches but that still meant where one hand went, the other was forced to follow and that in turn pulled painfully on the still fresh brand just below his left shoulder. So in the end, he just put up with the continuous choking feeling.
Finally, hours after dark, he heard the sound of the bolt sliding open once more and he struggled to his feet, ready to try to fight back but just like the previous night, Dogpound simply ran at him, grabbed the chain and dragged him back down to his hands and knees.
"Standing on two feet isn't natural for a dog, mongrel," Bradford tutted mockingly as Mikey choked.
Mikey's eyes flickered up to him in exhaustion, "Screw you, Dogpound!" he tried to mutter and only ended up coughing.
Then Bradford laughed nastily. "Well, never mind, I have some gifts for you that will fix that kind of bad behaviour."
What did that mean? Mikey shuddered at the tone and implication. He needed to fight back now but no food, no water, overwhelming heat and being regularly choked had taken a toll on him. Still, he put his weight on his hands as best he could and spun, attempting to sweep the large dog mutant's feet from beneath him.
Bradford stared down at him in disbelief. "What was that supposed to be?" Then he laughed raucously at the frustrated expression on Mikey's face. "Oh, that's too rich. You know, I'm starting to think I'm doing your brothers a favour taking something as pathetic as you out of the picture."
"Says the one I beat using his own kata," Mikey tried to retort, despite knowing there was no chance of being understood thanks to the gag filling his mouth and the fact he couldn't move his jaw.
Bradford stared down at him angrily nonetheless. "Dogs can't talk either, remember? Already told you that!" he snarled, cuffing Mikey heavily over the head with his ungainly paw and knocking him back to the floor.
Mikey moaned painfully and tried to glare mutinously up at him. The trouble was, he couldn't tell which of the two Dogpounds he saw was the real one. His unfocused glare only made the evil mutant laugh all the harder.
Suddenly, Bradford stopped laughing and his expression turned hard. "Now for those gifts I promised. If you're a good boy and don't fight, I may even give you a treat." He laughed again and turned to the entrance where Mikey now saw Stockman, standing there, arms laden down with... something that made him shudder in fear.
Mikey whimpered and tried to scramble away but Dogpound caught hold of the chain once more, preventing him from getting anywhere.
"Get in here," Bradford growled and Stockman rushed in. "I'll hold the mongrel down while you attach the braces."
"Braces?" Mikey whimpered unintelligibly.
Dogpound turned, grinning menacingly at him before shoving Mikey down onto his plastron and stepping on his shell, easily holding him in place despite his desperate struggles.
Stockman darted closer apprehensively. "Lift... lift his right leg please," he instructed and Mikey felt his ankle grabbed and yanked into the air. He tried to turn to look at what was being done but couldn't see a thing so once more, he tried bucking Dogpound off his shell but the other mutant was too heavy and far too strong.
Something cold was slid beneath his leg and after the heat of the past two days, the coolness was almost welcome. Until it wrapped around his upper thigh and was clamped in place. "No!" he cried desperately in panic, kicking out with his left leg and scoring a good hit on Stockman himself. "Let me go!" He tried kicking again, this time at Dogpound, but it too, like his other leg, was grabbed at the ankle and this time, squeezed painfully. All Mikey could do was gasp as he felt the bones in his ankle creak.
"Told you to behave," Bradford snarled angrily as he continued to twist and squeeze. "Finish the job, Stinkman!"
"Y-yes, sir!" Stockman stammered timidly, coming forward again.
Then Mikey felt the same cool metal being clamped around his ankle and he whimpered once more. Dogpound continued to hold the leg aloft for a couple more minutes and then it was dropped heavily. Mikey gasped and tried to straighten his leg but it was impossible and he started to panic all the more. What had they done! Distantly, he felt the same process being applied to his left leg before it too was eventually released.
Dogpound removed his foot from his shell and grabbed at Mikey, preparing to lift him.
"N-no, wait," Stockman interrupted nervously. "We should do the collar while he's in this position. We c-can continue fixing his posture problem after."
Bradford grunted agreeably and dropped Mikey again, causing him to yelp. Then he stepped onto him once more.
Mikey felt his head forcibly lifted, he guessed by the strap of the muzzle, and then Stockman's hands were beneath his throat, wrapping another collar around it. While this one wasn't as tight and unforgiving as the other, it still remained in full contact with his skin and it felt cold and bumpy on the inside. He shook his head desperately, hoping to knock the human off but he could barely move and Stockman didn't budge.
Finally, with the second collar secured in place, Dogpound stepped off him once more and pulled him onto his carapace, stepping instead on his plastron. Mikey stared wildly up as his hands were grabbed and yanked into the air. There, one of them was released from its manacle but before Mikey could strike out, another manacle took its place and moments later, the action was repeated with the other hand. Finally, he was released and he tried to scramble backwards away from them but no matter how much he tried, he couldn't unbend his legs or even put his arms behind him on the floor.
Terrified by whatever they'd just done, Mikey twisted his body to look, only to see huge metal manacles wrapped around the length of his thighs and ankles with a connecting chain between them, preventing them from straightening more than ninety degrees. "Why?" he cried out, eyes popping in fright. Upon further inspection, he saw the new manacles on his wrists also had a chain connecting them to a D ring on the front of the thigh manacles. He looked up in questioning horror at the human mad scientist, who only coughed self-consciously.
"Give me the remote control and get out of here," Bradford snarled, holding out a demanding hand. Stockman shakily capitulated and all but ran from the shipping container. Bradford then turned and smiled nastily at Mikey. He pressed the button on the control unit, activating it. "Thirsty?" he questioned with a leer.
Mikey hesitated a moment, then nodded, "Yes," he mumbled. Suddenly, a searing jolt of pain shot into his neck from multiple points and he cried out, convulsing uncontrollably before collapsing to the ground. After some time, he opened his eyes and stared up at Dogpound accusingly.
"Shock collar," Bradford explained in dark satisfaction. "Some dogs wear them to train them to stop barking. Of course, the shocks in those aren't as powerful as the one in yours," he continued. "From now on, if you try to speak, no matter how unintelligible, you'll be electrocuted."
Mikey's eyes widened in horror, "No!" he tried to whisper. "I'm not a dog, I'm a... ARGH!" he cried out in pain as the shock collar kicked in once more.
"The only reason it took so long to give you one is that your collar is specially made," Bradford explained, reaching out a thick furry finger to touch the collar attached to Mikey's neck. "A highly sophisticated piece of technology designed to recognise when you speak actual words. It won't react to simple animalistic sounds, like growling or barking, though, so feel free to do that," he laughed, sounding as though it was a great joke, "but even when you can't be understood like right now, it will pick up on the fact you are trying to speak and it will punish you for it."
Mikey began shaking in a combination of fear, disbelief and anger. He couldn't believe this! How could Dogpound go so far? The former human had proven to be highly sadistic from only a few days after he met him but this... this was just... just way too far!
"Now, you've been such a good boy that I'm going to take off your muzzle so you can drink," the larger mutant mocked, coming closer. Mikey shied away at first but then stopped, because much as he didn't want Dogpound touching him again after all that, he needed to drink. Desperately.
The muzzle and gag were removed and Mikey relished the chance to regain some feeling again as he warily watched Dogpound drop the water bowl in front of him and fill it. As soon as the other mutant gave him permission, he moved forward with difficulty; it was so hard to move with the braces and chains that he wanted to scream. While there was a small amount of give, the chains didn't allow him to straighten his legs and stand, leaving crawling as his only option. He also found the length of the chain between his wrists and thighs also restricted him. Crawling on all fours really was the only viable option but it was so uncomfortable and demeaning that it was all Mikey could do to contain the tears of frustration and rage.
Slowly, he began to drink, carefully watching the unstable former human out of the corner of his good eye, cringing when the mutant became impatient and told him to hurry the hell up. Finally, when he finished, another bowl was plunked down by him. Mikey eyed it suspiciously; it stank.
"Eat!" Dogpound commanded.
Mikey whimpered and mindful of the new shock collar, simply shook his head adamantly, backing away.
The bowl was shoved closer.
"I know you're hungry so I suggest you eat now because the muzzle is going back on when I leave."
Mikey's eyes widened in surprise, "Why?" he asked softly with a whine, then cried out as the collar electrocuted him once more. He fell to the floor, gasping in pain and trying to catch his breath.
"That's why," Dogpound replied with a satisfied chortle. "You haven't learnt how not to speak yet and I can't have you trying to call out for help despite the threat of electrocution. Besides, it's funny!"
Mikey closed his eyes in resignation. He was so screwed. He should have tried harder while he had the chance. Now it was too late and unless his brothers found him in time, he'd never get a chance to escape, not with his hands turned into helpless paws and his legs all but useless and his voice... he choked in fear... taken from him.
"Eat now or starve until we're on the ocean!"
Mikey opened his eyes again and looked up tiredly. How long? He wanted to know but how could he ask without being shocked again and right at this moment, he couldn't take another one like that.
The bowl was picked up and shoved into his face. Mikey heaved at the smell and tried desperately not to throw up. He really couldn't afford to lose the little water he'd just drunk.
Closing his eyes again, he turned his head away obstinately, refusing the so-called meal.
Bradford chuckled evilly. "Yeah, I thought it might be a bit soon. Still, you'll give in when you're hungry enough."
'Not a chance,' Mikey thought as his head was grabbed. Dogpound dug his fingers into the sides of his jaw, forcing it to open and stuffed the disgusting used rag back inside, before strapping on the muzzle again.
"I'll see you shortly before dawn," he mocked. "The container will be loaded on the ship tomorrow and we sail at sunset."
Then he left again, leaving Mikey in the darkness with the bowl of foul-smelling dog food still in reach.
-:-
Comments, thoughts and concrit are always welcome.
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