Yet another short chapter. This wasn't supposed to be broken up like this. It was supposed to be one long ass chapter, but with my job and school getting in the way, it's taking a lot longer to write these things than it used to, so I hope you guys don't mind short chapters like this from now on. Hey, it'll make it last longer, I hope. It might not seem like it, but this fic is nearing its end. I don't know how many more chapters there will be, but it'll get written when it gets written, that's all I have to say.
As usual, thanks to everyone who reviewed. It seriously makes my day knowing you guys enjoy my writing. So thanks.
Ghetsis could have considered his life pleasant at most during his childhood. With both his mother and father being filthy rich, he had everything handed to him on a silver platter. If he wanted new toys, his mother went out and bought them. If he wanted a certain pokemon, his father dropped everything to get it for him. Everything he wanted, he got. He was used to this, and when things were not handed to him at the snap of a finger, his initial reaction was to get angry.
He didn't like pokemon very much. Even if he wanted one that looked cool or tough, it was all just to show off to his friends. He hated taking care of them. They were for him to exploit as he pleased, and they served their purpose well. At school, the kids would mock him about not having a certain pokemon they had, how it was strong and fought for them. Not about to back off from a challenge, Ghetsis whined and screamed himself hoarse until his mother or father gave him what he wanted.
One pokemon in particular that seemed to stand out from the rest was the Hydreigon. All the kids at school were scared of it. They said it was a horrible, scary pokemon that attacked anything that moved, and it was difficult to catch one because of how brutal it was.
Naturally, Ghetsis had to have it.
After much whining, tantrums, and broken objects around the castle he lived in, his father finally quaked and paid a lot of money for it to be caught, just for him.
Ghetsis hated the thing from the start. Even in its pokeball, it would make noise and keep him up at night. How he hated that thing. When it needed care, he made the maids take care of it, despite their protests that it was an evil creature and had the potential to harm them.
Not that Ghetsis cared. As long as it did its job, he could care less what the damn thing did to all those useless servants living under his law. And it did do its job of making him look tough. The children at school couldn't believe rich boy Ghetsis Harmonia had a Hydreigon.
Like his childhood, his adolescence was driven by getting what he wanted and lavishing himself in riches and pokemon everyone else wanted. Of course, once they served their purpose, he got rid of them. He couldn't even think a time when he had let one out of its pokeball. The servants did the care giving for him.
Still, the Hydreigon stayed, and he couldn't even figure out why he decided to keep it. But, when he stared at it in its ball, adoring the way it would glare up at him and thrash around, he could smile, because here it was, a powerful, brutal pokemon, a dangerous monster, right in the palm of his hand, and it couldn't hurt him. That gave him a rush of excitement, knowing he was in full control and knowing he had all the power in the world to do what he wanted.
His mother and father stayed gone a lot, so Ghetsis remained alone in the castle most of his time, the time he wasn't in school making sure everyone knew he was rich and had powerful pokemon. He knew the maids hated him, but it wasn't like he cared. He didn't like them either. As long as he could stay in his room, study, and smile at his prize, at the Hydreigon, he was content.
Not happy, never happy. Not all the money or possessions in the world could ever make him happy. He already had everything he wanted, but there was always a pit of emptiness he could feel inside him, something riches couldn't fill.
He supposed that was stupid, to refer to it as that. But even at school, at home, being alone constantly without his mother or father made him a little lonely. Most of the kids hated him because he was snooty, but he didn't care. Let everyone hate him, let the world despise him, because he despised everything the world had to offer.
His castle, his enormous bedroom, his strong pokemon, his excellent grades, none of that mattered to him. He hated it all, he hated the way he lived, the way his parents were never home, the way the Hydreigon would glare at him like it wanted to rip his spinal cord out.
Power meant nothing. And Ghetsis couldn't figure out why he was always angry about everything, why he'd become throwing random temper tantrums out of the blue. He would be studying, a normal day, a sunny day after school with a test bearing down on his back, and he would be reading and writing words over and over to memorize them, and then he would snap.
Books were thrown, his chair was chucked against a wall, and the ball Hydreigon rested in was slammed to the floor, rattling the pokemon inside it. Releasing his anger and frustration felt good. Very good. Seeing things break made him swell up on the inside until he could smile, and laugh. Because he could do it, he had the power to change things, and he took a normal chair, and broke it. He changed it. He ripped the papers from his textbooks. It didn't matter, he could buy another one. He hurt Hydreigon who roared inside its ball and smiled at it.
Pathetic. All of it. Every little thing in the world was below him, and he balled his hands into fists until his nails pierced the flesh and drew blood. His laughter stopped, and he glared down at the pokeball on his floor. Even this thing, this so-called powerful monster was rendered useless because of him. He had the money and power to do whatever the hell he wanted, and he hated it.
Because what was a life without challenge? Everything, everyone bent over backwards for him, and he didn't want it. It made him angry. He wanted people to hurt, to realize he was better, but he wanted them to fight too, not just sit back and let him run over them. People were so stupid, and so were pokemon. All these children going on 'journeys' to find themselves or some stupid shit, it was moronic. Running around by themselves and using monsters to protect them wasn't teaching them anything about life. It was teaching them to be weak and rely on a giant monster to do everything for them.
Ghetsis hated people. He hated school, he hated the teachers, the students, his mother and father, every god damn one of the maids in this place.
Eyeing the pokeball on the floor, Ghetsis picked it up, admiring how beautiful the Hydreigon looked as it roared in the ball and snapped its jaws up at him. How cute. It wanted to hurt him and he felt a rush swim through him at the thought of this thing challenging him. He wanted to hurt it, to beat it, to kick it, to cut into it, and see it grovel at its master's feet.
It was a pathetic monster, but Ghetsis was perfect. He wanted to show this thing just how perfect he was.
Pressing the button on the ball, he threw it across his room and grinned when the Hydreigon emerged, growing back to its normal size and letting out an angry roar. So funny how monsters could express emotion. Maybe it was more human than he gave it credit for. Weren't emotions just limited to being human? Monsters and animals only had instinct. It was instinct to feel rage and hate toward a tormentor.
Ghetsis would not lie, he knew he had treated it poorly, but he didn't care.
It came at him, moving faster than he thought possible, until Ghetsis found himself pinned against his wall.
He would show it just how perfect he was. Perfection was viewed by the same for everyone. Flawless, unscathed, unblemished. Ghetsis hated it, hated the world's perception of what perfect was. He would change himself, he would be perfect in his own mind.
The Hydreigon's head reared back before slamming down against him, its other two heads biting at his arms and tearing at the flesh until he was bleeding. The pain made him scream, and he at once regretted his decision. When the Hydreigon bore down on him, its teeth in his face, its hot breath stale in his face, he screamed when it tore into his face, marring his handsome features, ripping at his delicate skin, and rendering the vision in his right eye to black. A sickening, squishy noise met his ears and Ghetsis wanted to vomit when he realized what it had done.
His screaming alerted the servants and maids, and when his door was thrown open, the Hydreigon wrestled until it was back in its ball, Ghetsis bent over and vomited, screaming when he saw his blood drip from him, screaming at the agony in his face, and crying tears that he could only feel from the left side on his face. His vision was completely black on one side.
The maids let out terrified gasps and began calling for doctors, nurses, anyone who could help him. They bent down to him, giving him warm rags and towels to wipe the blood from him, and one maid began crying when she saw his missing eye, ripped from his socket and nothing but a distorted mess against his bloody face.
When the shock had passed, when Ghetsis was bandaged and placed in the hospital ward of the castle, while he lay there, sore and partially blind, his parents never came to visit him, to see how their son was doing, he could smile. Because now he was perfect.
"Look at me."
Despite his face burning in humiliation, N obeyed his father and opened his eyes. Ghetsis was leaning over him, smothering him with his body as he fucked him. It was scary how routine this had become, how something so horrible had been done to him so much that N didn't give a second thought to what his father did to him now. Like always, when Ghetsis came in, N submitted his body and mind to him. There was no more fighting, no more screaming or crying. There was nothing anymore.
N had no hope left anymore, so what was the point in thinking anything would ever change? Because it never would. He had learned the hard way, but daddy finally opened his eyes to the truth. The painful truth, that N belonged to him, that he was an object and not a person, that Ghetsis could do whatever he wanted, that when Ghetsis said he would do something, it was done.
The way N's stomach churned with nausea as his father went in and out of him, it always made him sick, but sick at himself. Daddy wasn't to blame, it was all N's fault. And he deserved this for killing Zorua. Every bad thing daddy did to him, no matter what happened, N knew now everything was his fault. It was punishment, because he was a terrible person.
He wanted to believe he was a victim, that he would be saved, someone in the castle would help him, but he knew better now. He'd been ignorant, so very ignorant, and it did not go unpunished.
There was no remorse in his father's face when he was forced to look up at him, at that one, uncovered eye that stared back at him. And why would there be any remorse? If this was all N's fault anyway, then he shouldn't and would not expect any less from his own father.
Ghetsis's hands explored his body, raking down his sides and piercing his flesh. But that was nothing. Scratches were welcome compared to being bit or burned or choked. His father never left anything too simple and when things got boring for him, he never failed to get creative. Ghetsis's creativity usually resulted in N being tied up in some form or fashion. Once he was bound with tape which his father seemed to take pleasure in ripping it off him afterward and kissing the red marks until they burned.
Now N had his wrists bound by rope. Ghetsis had pulled his arms over his head until N was trapped in a sort of awkward hug with him, his arms mostly resting on Ghetsis's neck and shoulders. Wherever Ghetsis moved, N was dragged along with him. So when he sat up, still inside of him, N was pulled up. Strangely, Ghetsis took a lot of care in being gentle as he moved N on top of him, where N rested in his lap, his wrists still tied behind his father's neck. N always knew never to trust his father's movements. A gentle touch would often result in a violent slap directly afterward, or even a bite hard enough to draw blood. As much as this happened every other night, N was surprised at himself for not memorizing his father's body language any better. Most things were predictable, like when Ghetsis ordered him to move up and down on top of him, which N did without a fight. He knew how to move, how to work, and what would please his daddy. Using his daddy's shoulders and neck as support, he did the best he could moving his thighs and legs up and down, up and down, trying not to wince at the uncomfortable feeling below him.
It didn't hurt anymore, but that didn't mean it wasn't always uncomfortable.
And sometimes, it would feel good. That scared N very much, because he never wanted anything good associated with this. It was punishment, it was twisted and insane, so when his father would move just right, or when N moved like he was doing now, he would often find that when he moved down, something would be hit, and it made him want to moan. It was like an itch, like the times daddy had pumped him, but different. That tiny little itch that felt so strange, but gradually felt better the more it was brushed against, and it made him hard.
It was always humiliating feeling himself get hard at that feeling, at something so horrible, and hearing his father comment on it. N was called a slut, a whore, and filthy when he'd get hard. But he didn't blame his father for his harsh words, because N thought the exact same thing. He was trash, filthy and deserved the verbal abuse as much as the physical.
"N, don't turn away from me."
He hadn't realized his gaze drifted from Ghetsis to the wrinkles in his bed sheets, but once his father spoke, N snapped back to reality and did as he was told. Too often N found himself trying to daydream and escape, but Ghetsis would have none of that. As he looked back at his father, his face still red from shame, Ghetsis leaned forward and kissed him. Kissing was just as disgusting as sex, but N had been taught his lessons, so he knew how to work his tongue in the manner his father approved. Just as predicted, Ghetsis pressed his mouth against his harder, like he was hungry for more, in a literal sense. He licked N's teeth, his lips, and the inside of his mouth while N did the same.
The overwhelming pit of horror in his stomach never went away. It always scared him when this happened, even though he knew what to do, even though he knew what to expect. It made him sick when his father kissed him, and when he kissed back. He was more ashamed of himself for participating than anything else. Because fighting would be better than submitting, but after being tortured so much, N didn't know which was worse anymore.
Ghetsis moaned in his mouth and N sped up his movements, feeling a small sliver of relief when Ghetsis stopped kissing his mouth long enough to move to his neck. That always felt better than having to kiss back, because N wasn't directly partaking. Let daddy kiss his skin all he wanted. With the chill in the air, the area his father hit with his tongue froze when he moved to a new section of skin. The whole while, N never stopped moving, nor did he fight back or hesitate once.
Because it was all inevitable, and he knew that now. When Ghetsis got close, he bit down on the crook of N's neck, causing him to wince and whimper aloud, but he didn't scream. Daddy didn't hit him for making noises anymore. In fact, it was almost like he liked them. When N whimpered, Ghetsis went faster, and so did N. He knew. Any minute now, it would all be over and he would be left alone again, just like always.
With a finally thrust upward, Ghetsis gripped N's arms tight and squeezed when he orgasmed, hissing through his teeth as he slowed down his rhythm to drag out the feeling. N grunted at the feeling of the hot white stuff going inside of him, but he stayed still, obedient, waiting for Ghetsis's next order.
Slowly, Ghetsis pulled all the way out of him, letting N relax in his lap a little. His face burned at the fact that he was still hard, and he hoped Ghetsis would leave without any stinging comments on it. Things were never easy for him, but N knew that, so he was hardly surprised when Ghetsis lifted his arms from around his neck and told him to rub himself.
Before, N would have hesitated, he would have cried or at least fought back. He would be wondering why daddy was doing this to him, why he chose to rape him over every single person in the castle, and he would have felt the need to be saved and released from this hell. But, N knew better. Life just didn't work that way and he'd found that out the hard way. So he gripped himself the best he could with his bound wrists and rubbed up and down his own erection.
Thankfully, daddy didn't make him look at him this time, so N was able to stare at his bed sheets instead. With his own hands now on him, it was a relief to be able to satisfy the itch, as horrible as that sounded. Biting his lips, N concentrated, knowing better than to picture himself far, far away from here, and instead focused on the feeling itself. That itch, that feeling of climbing higher and higher, the complete feeling of satisfaction. He pumped harder, feeling his muscles twitch at the feeling and he jerked a little when the feeling began to reach its peak. Precum seeped out which was used as lube, making it feel so much better to be slightly warm and slick.
Daddy said nothing the entire time N masturbated in his lap. He was ordered to do this, so he complied without complaint.
Compliant and silent. That was all N was anymore.
As he felt himself about to explode, Ghetsis tilted his face up by his chin, kissing him once more as N finally orgasmed, not being able to hold back. He moaned in his father's mouth, spasming as he let everything go and enjoyed the small haze afterward where nothing felt wrong, where nothing bad happened.
With reality crashing back down on him, N fell limp in his father's lap, ever awaiting the next order, knowing he was to be completely submissive. Preparing for the inevitable had become almost second nature. N was not afraid anymore.
Daddy kissed him again, his hands and fingers exploring more of N's body, his stomach specifically. "You're gaining weight." It wasn't like N had a companion to run around with anymore, but he just nodded, knowing what would come next. "I don't want you fat, so I'm going to put a hold on the meals being brought to you."
And all N could do was nod and say, "Yes sir" as daddy continued kissing him, and N let him have his full. He gave himself over completely, something he hadn't done before. At least he fought or even had his doubts about things. But now, he knew better, he knew things would not change only because he wanted them too. That was childish and stupid. Wishing for help would not bring help. Dreaming of leaving wouldn't guarantee him escape. What mattered were his actions, but it wasn't like he could fight off his father. Physical strength was not something he possessed, and he knew better than to think like that.
So N gave up. Handing over his mind and body, he listened and did what he was told. Everything daddy asked of him, N gave it to him. And if daddy thought N was holding back or disobeying him, N was punished. Punishment was always deserved. N did not cry when he was hit. He didn't think bad thoughts about his father, or think of being a victim. Because he wasn't, he was just a bad person whose parent was trying to raise them properly. That's all it was and would ever be.
And if daddy thought he was getting fat and didn't need as much food, then N would just have to accept the change and move on. Nothing would ever work the way he wanted, life would not hand him things simply because he was displeased with how things were going. Because daddy gave him the life he needed. He provided him with everything he needed to survive. A roof over his head, a restroom, a warm bed to sleep in, food when he needed it, and books to read to keep him entertained. The basic necessities, and if N wanted more, then he was selfish for it. So in order to pay back daddy for giving him everything he needed, N listened and obeyed.
Ghetsis stood away from the bed, taking a few strands of N's hair in his hands and twirling them around his finger. "You have the most beautiful hair. It curls by itself and falls into the right places without you even having to do anything. Don't you like your long hair, N?"
N nodded. "Yes sir." Even though he used to hate it, if it's what daddy wanted, then he had to like it.
"You're already beautiful." As he spoke, Ghetsis reached down to the floor, grabbing his pants that'd been thrown there earlier. "I want you more beautiful. I want you perfect."
N nodded. "Yes sir." Whatever daddy wanted, N had to give it to him. He had to make himself the person daddy wanted. Even if he had to get on his hands and knees and beg him, to let him know he would change for him, N would do whatever he could to please daddy.
"You know." With his pants back on, Ghetsis positioned himself back on N's bed, leaning over him enough to make N draw backward out of reflex. Grabbing N's bare arm, Ghetsis twisted it in both hands. N bit the blood from his lip to keep from wincing. "You're very pale. I don't like it. It's too much of one thing. You need a little color on your skin." It took every ounce of willpower N possessed to keep from crying out when Ghetsis dug his nails into his arm, dragging them up and down to create scratches. Already, N's flesh was red and swollen around the cuts, but he did not make a sound.
If this was what Ghetsis wanted, who was N to backtalk? To save himself? To think this was as bad as he was making it?
He accepted it. To himself, he had to keep telling himself he belonged to his father, he was nothing more than an object, not a person anymore. People weren't treated this way. And in retrospect, this was not as bad as some of the things daddy had made him do.
Scratches lined his arms which Ghetsis smiled at. "You are more beautiful now. You are perfect."
N looked upon the scratches oozing blood with the feeling of depression coming in waves, a feeling that never went away. But he nodded to his father. He couldn't smile anymore. "Thank you, daddy."
Ghetsis didn't even get mad at him anymore for saying such a childish word like 'daddy'. N couldn't help it. He hated calling him Ghetsis. And it was just a word, after all, and maybe Ghetsis realized this. It wasn't weakness or patronizing. It was the only word N could think to call him, because. Ghetsis was his daddy, his parent, his guardian who knew what was best for him, who loved him, who only wanted good things for him.
"Daddy?" Sometimes N could even talk to him like a normal person would. They would have normal conversations, normal things to talk about.
"What?" Again, Ghetsis had moved off the bed, fishing around for his clothes on the floor, leaving N's where they were. N didn't care. He covered himself with the bed sheets, not that it mattered. He'd seen daddy naked so many times and daddy had seen him naked, so there was really no point in covering it up.
"Daddy, do you love me?"
As he smoothed down the shirt he'd just thrown on, Ghetsis paused before speaking. "What are you talking about?"
N was allowed to speak about things like this. It wasn't like he was out of line. It was a reasonable, legitimate question he'd been meaning to ask for awhile, but never got the chance. Daddy wouldn't punish him for that. "I love you. Do you love me?"
"Why are you asking me that?"
A simple yes or no would have satisfied him, but N didn't blame him. It was an off the wall question, after all, of course daddy would be thrown off at first. "I just...want to know. That's all. I'm sorry." If he was doing wrong, an apology might soften any punishment he had coming, but that never worked. He knew that, though. He wouldn't have asked something so out of context if he wasn't prepared for the repercussions.
But daddy didn't hit him, or even raise his voice at him. He simply gathered the rest of his robes and walked toward N's door saying, "You are my son," before he exited, closing the door and locking it behind him.
N was alone again.
Standing from his bed, he picked up his discarded clothes and put them in a neat pile by the door for either Concordia or Anthea to come by later and get them for washing before he walked into the bathroom and set to work cleaning himself.
The lavender shampoo Ghetsis made him use was all gone, but he was glad. It made him sick anyway. He got to bathe with something that smelled like strawberries instead, which wasn't as strong. It squirted a translucent red in his hand which he used to lather up his long hair and the rest of his body.
He hated his hair. He hated it. Even washing it free from everything made him grimace at the fact that it took twice as much shampoo than it would have normally, that he had to be so wasteful just to keep it...beautiful.
Daddy's thoughts had to become his though, so he had to make himself like it. All these horrible thoughts had to go away, even when daddy wasn't here. N had to train himself to think the way daddy wanted him to, to act the way he wanted him to.
The suds rinsed from him and swirled down the drain along with the rest of the dirty water and N stepped out, his mirror steamed. Walking toward it, he pressed a towel against the mirror, wiping a section away until he could see his reflection. He was only 15, but he already looked older. No matter what daddy said to him, every time N looked at himself, he saw a horrible person. An ugly person, someone with dimples in their cheeks, a deformity, a long nose, faint freckles, green eyelashes. What was so beautiful about that? Daddy had been right about one thing. N was gaining weight. He used to run around with Zorua to get his exercise, but without her, there was nothing to do. His arms were getting fuller and his stomach was beginning to poke out instead of being sunken in. N was in no ways fat, but he wasn't as skinny as he used to be. But if daddy said he wasn't allowed to eat, N had to comply and assume daddy knew best.
He ran his fingers down the mirror, smudging the already steamed surface. What was so beautiful about him? He was ugly. Tall, lanky, his hair bushy from being washed. Why did daddy do this to him? What made him stand out? He wasn't beautiful. N was not beautiful.
Balling his hands into a fist, he punched his mirror in, shattering it. Now it was broken, and he saw himself multiple times in those shards hanging out, some having fallen into the sink. Broken, just like him. Because he was ugly, so now he wouldn't have to look at how ugly he was anymore.
More flashbacks of younger Ghetsis to come. And more N angst.