Sold! | Chapter 4 [Comm]

Chapter 4.

The mild itchy sensation of Tuft’s accident rubbing up between and against his cheeks seemed like it should have been the last of his worries, but it nevertheless compounded the already long list of things to worry about. His arms remaining neatly folded in front of him as if in indignance at the state of his pants, he let the leash become taut as he slowed down when the hallway they had turned down reached a robust looking set of double doors. 

The marble flooring, occasional limestone bust, and strictly pastel artwork that adorned the passageway complimented the aged wood of the doors to provide a profoundly classical experience. 

Did they just import this stuff straight from Versailles?!

The leashed manokit had barely enough time to admire the resplendent artworks bordering him on the left and right when Cletus raised a pair of knuckles to the wooden panels of the double-doors. 

He hesitated, giving Tufts enough time to just wonder whether the tiger had forgotten something. Cletus turned quite suddenly, startling Tufts and causing him to take a pawstep backwards. 

“You’re going to have to try not to squirm around too much. Atticus has a tendency to get impatient.”

With that, Tufts watched him as the tiger composed himself and adopted a grin that appeared a little tight for his regular, naturally winning smile. The backs of his paws rapped against the wooden, after a few seconds there came the sound and sensation of thundering footsteps. 

Tufts’ ears pinned against the back of his head, his eyes growing wide as a small wooden hatch slid open to reveal a furious looking eyeball. The round iris swiveled towards Cletus’s direction, who merely turned nimbly on the hell of his footpaws to present Tufts with forward motion of his palms. 

There was a deep rumble of affirmation before the wooden panel shut, followed by the rattling of chains before finally there came the turning of the lock. The doors swung open, and Tufts could not help but gape open-mawed. 

There, in all his shagginess, stood a wooly rhinoceros with several brass rings of various sizes nestled on a rounded horn. Large, hoof like hands were grasping a powder puff in one and a garish, blonde wig in the other. 

“IF I HAVE TO DEAL WITH ANOTHER FAULTY SHIPMENT I’LL GROW WINGS AND FLY OVER THERE MYSELF.”

The sour rhinoceros turned his back then on the party of two, lumbering over to what appeared to be an oversized car seat stationed resolutely in the center of the room.  A five-point harness hung loosely from its center, dangling beneath the seat were a pair of ankle straps, positioned so that the subject sitting inside of the seat would keep their knees bent. 

Tufts swallowed hard, his mouth dry as the imposing woolly rhinoceros stomped towards the oversized car seat. The sheer weight of the beast’s footfalls sent subtle tremors through the marble beneath Tufts' paws, but what made his fur stand on end was the sight of that wide, five-point harness, hanging open like the jaws of some terrible predator, waiting to clamp down on him.

“I don’t have time for more delays.” 

The rhino grumbled, slapping the powder puff against his palm, sending a small cloud of scented dust into the air. 

“Cletus, strap him in. Quickly.”

The tiger did not hesitate. Giving Tufts’ leash a firm tug, he guided the manokit forward. Tufts dragged his paws, his heart pounding against his ribs. But with his arms still bound tightly in the straitjacket, he couldn’t even feign resistance.

“I wouldn’t dawdle if I were you, little one,” 

Cletus whispered, his tone more playful than reassuring. 

“Atticus gets cranky when we waste his time. And you don’t want to see him really upset.”

Tufts hesitated, feeling his stomach twist into knots, whether from fear or the lingering, unpleasant squish of his now-cooling diaper, he was not sure. The idea of being secured into that monstrous seat sent icy dread creeping up his spine.

Yet, before he could protest, Cletus’ grip tightened, and in a swift motion, he guided Tufts into the padded chair. The thick cushions pressed firmly against his back, the cool synthetic material stark against his warm fur.

Then came the harness.

Thick nylon straps looped over his shoulders, clicking into place with a dreadful finality. Another strap was pulled snug across his chest, forcing his back flush against the padding. His legs were lifted, bent at the knee, and his ankles were guided into their respective cuffs.

Click. Click.

The restraints held his legs in place, preventing him from straightening them or closing them together, leaving his heavily padded state on full display.

Tufts squirmed instinctively, but it was no use. He was completely immobilized, and the shifting only made the seat of his diaper squish uncomfortably against him, a reminder of his earlier humiliation. His cheeks burned, and he clamped his eyes shut, wishing desperately to disappear.

“That’s better.” 

Atticus muttered, stepping forward and taking Tufts’ chin in one massive hoof-like hand. He turned Tufts’ face from side to side, scrutinizing him with a sharp, appraising gaze.

“Hmph. Pretty thing. A bit scrawny, but we’ll make it work.”

Tufts flinched as Atticus unceremoniously dusted his cheeks with the powder puff, the floral scent overpowering.

Cletus chuckled, stepping back to admire the view. 

“See? That wasn’t so bad.”

Tufts shot him a glare, but the tiger simply gave him a playful wink before sauntering over to the side of the room, where a polished vanity stood, stacked high with brushes, cosmetics, and, most worryingly, various pacifiers and gags.

Tufts' fur bristled. 

“W-what is this?” 

He stammered, voice hoarse.

Atticus ignored him, turning instead to a clipboard resting on a nearby counter. He flipped through the pages, his heavy brow furrowing. 

“Ah. Looks like you’re one of the premium lots. That means you need to be made presentable.”

Tufts' breath hitched. 

Premium lot?

He wanted to demand answers, to demand his freedom, but his words caught in his throat when Atticus reached for the garish blonde wig he’d been holding earlier.

“No. No way,” 

Tufts moaned, struggling futilely in his restraints. 

“You are not putting that thing on me.”

Atticus gave him a bored look. 

“Cletus?”

The tiger perked up. 

“Mm?”

“Pacifier.”

Before Tufts could even react, Cletus was on him. The tiger moved fast, too fast. With one swift motion, he pressed a thick rubber bulb against Tufts’ lips. The manokit turned his head sharply, trying to resist, but Cletus was persistent.

“Now, now.” 

The tiger purred. 

“Open up, little one.”

Tufts clenched his teeth.

That was a mistake.

Cletus merely pinched Tufts’ nose shut.

Panic flared in Tufts’ chest as he struggled to keep his mouth closed, but the need for air soon won out. The moment he parted his lips, Cletus shoved the pacifier in, the rubber bulb pressing firmly against Tufts’ tongue. A strap looped around the back of his head, locking it in place.

“There we go.” 

Cletus smirked, giving the front of the pacifier a teasing tap. 

“Much better.”

Tufts let out a muffled growl, his voice barely more than a frustrated whimper.

“Mm, he’s adorable when he’s pouty.” 

Cletus mused.

Atticus did not seem to care. The rhino simply plopped the ridiculous wig onto Tufts’ head, adjusting it until the golden curls framed his face. He studied the effect for a moment, then nodded in approval.

“Good. Now for the final touch.”

Tufts barely had time to register what he meant before Atticus reached for something beneath the vanity, a frilly pink bib.

Tufts squirmed wildly, but it was useless. In seconds, the bib was fastened around his neck, the embroidered words Mommy’s Precious Doll stitched in delicate cursive across the front.

Cletus laughed. 

“Oh, that’s perfect.”

Atticus sighed, dusting his hands off. 

“Alright. He’s ready for display. Take him to the showroom.”

Tufts' stomach dropped.

Showroom?

Cletus grinned, grabbing the handle on the back of the car seat and tilting it backward. The whole chair was mounted on wheels.

Tufts whined behind the pacifier as he felt himself being rolled forward, his padded bottom pressing even more firmly against the seat with each jostle.

The doors ahead creaked open, revealing a massive, dimly lit room filled with murmuring voices.

An audience.

The realization sent fresh panic racing through Tufts’ veins. He struggled against his restraints, but they held firm, keeping him helplessly cradled in the humiliating chair.

Cletus leaned down, whispering just loud enough for him to hear.

“Better hope someone nice buys you.”

With that, he pushed Tufts forward into the spotlight.