A Danger to Oneself and Others

Chapter 1

by SapphicSounds

Tags: #f/f #Human_Domestication_Guide #kidnapping #petplay #pov:bottom #sub:female #D/s #dom:female #dom:the_inescapable_reach_of_the_affini_compact #mind_control #scifi #sub:feralism #transgender_characters #violence

Hi there! If you enjoy what you're about to read, you can read through to chapter 13 of this story on my patreon right now, there, you can also get access to my discord server, early access to my work, exclusive content (including audio readings of some of my works) AND pictures of my cat (this is not a euphemism). I'd also like to mention that currently, all of my patreon income goes toward mutual aid, ongoing until I announce otherwise. So come of the smut, stay for the knowledge that your money is going to helping people in need! This work is set in the Human Domestication Guide universe.
 
If you'd like to commission a work from me, feel free to email me at sapphicsounds@gmail.com 
 
All characters depicted are 18 years of age or older, do not proceed if you are under 18 years of age.
 
CWs for this story include: dysphoria, violence, florets being captured by rebels, sad florets, implied transphobic slur, body horror, violence / threats of violence, trauma.

They took her collar. And yes, fine, when she thought about it, Clara knew that wasn’t surprising, but nobody was allowed to take off her collar other than Citrodora. She felt so exposed, so naked without it. This wasn’t right. Clara wasn’t strong; Clara wasn’t brave. She was a fucking pet. She was a pet and she was alone and her owner wasn’t there to take care of her and—and her Mistress was counting on her. Not just Mistress, the other florets, and their affini too. All of them were counting on Clara to keep herself and the others safe. It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t the first time things had been unfair for Clara, but she’d forgotten how it felt. She’d need to remember. 


With a small thud, the shuttle came to a shaky stop as it docked with its destination: Hyperion’s Lantern, Clara’s old home. Cabin pressure adjusted, and the doors to hell opened wide. Sally raised an eyebrow, and motioned Clara to follow. Casting an uncertain glance at the whimpering, terrified florets behind her, Clara gave a small shudder, and hurried to follow. From outside the shuttle, Clara heard the other rebels shouting for their prisoners to move, and tried not to let her empathy blow her cover. Instead, she forced her mind to focus on action, results. “What’s next?” She did her best to mimic her old demeanor, speaking as gruff and efficient as possible. 


“From a ship-wide perspective? For now, we’re running. We’ll be jumping as far and as frequently as we can to shake whoever is after us. As far as you? First, you’re going to see Rear-Admiral Trapper. She’s waiting in one of the briefing rooms. And she’ll be relieved as hell to see you.” More familiar faces then, and a promotion for Trapper, Clara’s unwilling return was shaping out to be hell of a reunion. “Then you’ll spill your secrets,” Sally explained, keeping her eyes ahead and her pace brisk as she led the way. That was another thing, Clara wasn’t used to moving like she had somewhere to be. It was stressful, though, everything about her situation was stressful. 


Then there was the matter of the actual ship. Hyperion’s Lantern was the same cramped, dingy mess Clara remembered it to be. The whole place felt so hostile, claustrophobic. Clara felt the urge to shrink against one of the walls and cower from each passerby just to create a bit of space between herself and the people who wanted to destroy everything she loved. But she knew she couldn’t, and there were more important matters at hand.


“What about the fl—prisoners?” 


Again, not bothering to slow down or even look back, Sally replied. “That’s still unclear. We’re hoping we might be able to undo the indoctrination and remove their implants.” The anger and disgust in Sally’s voice as she mentioned the only thing keeping Clara safe could strip paint. “Others are thinking they might be good test subjects to study affini biotech. Some are saying we should just space them. We’ll probably at least keep one or two though.” The sheer casual indifference with which Sally talked about imprisonment, experimentation, murder... Clara wanted to vomit. Instead, she reached for rage, and found it in spades lurking within her Mistress’ implant. Quickening her pace, Clara stepped directly into Sally’s way, halting in place as she stared the feral down.


Don’t,” Clara snarled. This time, she managed to call on some proper menace. It was an affini’s menace, her Mistress’ menace. 


Sally stopped dead, lightly shaking her head, blinking hard as though struck. “Lieutenant?” That was when Clara realized she was dangerously close to overstepping and blowing her cover. She needed to keep the other florets safe, but Mistress would never permit her to die in the process. 


“We’ll keep them in the brig, but we will not kill them. They’re people. Our people, free Terrans, robbed of their freedom by those fucking weeds. We can’t just kill them.” As she spoke, Clara took a step forward, further closing the gap between the two. It was an awkward dance, moving her body to threaten and intimidate instead of invite and defer, but the steps were all still there, memories coded into Citrodora's cells. 


Taking a single step back, Sally ground her teeth, and grunted. “Listen, Bailey, we have history, and I recognize that old fire in your eyes. I know it’s you in there. That’s not going to be the case with everyone. If you’re not careful, people are going to start thinking you up and went plantfucker on us.” 


“Wanting to protect human lives makes me a plantfucker?” 


Sally shook her head. “They’re traitors.”


“They’re brainwashed.” You’re brainwashed, she screamed internally. “I’d love to see you spend two weeks as a plant’s captive and not come out the other end just like them.” Clara would. She really, really would. Nothing sounded better to her than sending each and every one of these feralist monsters off to a domestication clinic on some far off planet and never needing to see or think about any of them ever again. The point seemed to at least give Sally pause, but it wouldn’t be enough on its own. Clara pressed her advantage. Just thinking about it left a bad taste in her mouth, but she knew what tactic she’d need to use for these people. “Besides, they’re an asset.”


Interest piqued, Sally quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? And how is that?” 


“Take me to Trapper. I’d rather explain it to the people who actually make decisions, Ensign.” Stepping aside, she nodded down the hall for Sally to continue. The rebel glared for a moment, then nodded, and moved on. 


Her first actual confrontation in years behind her, Clara stifled a heaving breath, and prayed her implant could get her heart rate back under control. Both Sally and Clara remained silent for the remainder of their walk to the briefing room. To Clara, this came as no small relief; it allowed her time to think, time to plan, time to reach out with her mind and brush her owner’s implant, just to remind herself it was there. As long as she had her Implant, she would never truly be without Mistress’ guidance and protection. 


Still, Clara had no delusions, she was walking into a den of vipers. Her only choices were to either convince them that she, too, was a viper, or to become the mongoose. Thankfully, her implant showed no signs of ceasing to cooperate with her needs. If anything, she was more in touch with the little symbiote than ever. Whether Mistress had sent some final bit of instruction to her implant as the rebel shuttle carried her off, or the implant had simply gone into some sort of emergency survival mode, without her owner there to control it directly, the little bundle of plant matter felt less like a manifestation of Citrodora's control, and more like an extension of Clara’s will. She could feel the way it bloomed into her, sharpening her mind, her senses. Mistress would never allow Clara to come to harm, and, in lieu of the real thing, her implant was doing all it could. 


At the entrance to the briefing room, Sally stood aside, and motioned for Clara to enter without her. With her best mimicry of a confident, crisp military march, Clara strode into the room,  locked eyes with Admiral Trapper, and approached, stopping a few paces away to salute her ‘commanding officer.’ “At ease, Lieutenant,” Trapper commanded. “It’s good to see you. Stars know we needed some good fucking news after everything that’s been going on lately.” 


“Thank you, Ma’am. It’s good to see you too,” Clara lied. 


Trapper gave Clara a long look, the elephant in the room obvious. “Sally briefed me ahead of time. I am to understand that all this,” she made a sweeping gesture indicating Clara’s body, “was your choice?” 


“Permission to speak freely, Ma’am?” After a moment of consideration, Trapper nodded. “I have more experience with how the affini operate than anyone here. I can say with certainty that they like their captives brainwashed and blissed out of their minds. Captives of the affini are not free, they are not themselves, but the thing they’re made into are happy, in an animalistic way. This would not have been possible for me if I was uncomfortable in my own skin. I despise them for what they did to my mind, but this body is mine.”


For an agonizing moment, Admiral Trapper stared Clara down, eyes narrowed and mouth tight. Then, without warning, she barked out a sharp command. “Get on your knees. Worship me.” 


I will see you live those words, Clara wasn’t sure if the thought came from herself, or her implant. Either way, the notion that she would ever kneel to a human, or at the very least a feralist, had to be one of the greatest insults of Clara’s life. She managed to keep her anger in check. “Ma’am?” She asked flatly. 


Nodding, the Admiral relaxed a little. “My apologies, Lieutenant. I needed to be certain.” When a silent nod was the only reply she received, the Admiral continued. “As far as your… changes, Lieutenant Bailey, it is none of my business how a soldier chooses to live their life so long as it does not interfere with duty. But know that there are others who are looking for just about any excuse to brand you compromised. You’re a good soldier, and I’m glad to have you back, but I need you to understand you’re walking a tightrope here.”


“Yes, Ma’am,” Clara replied briskly. 


“Very well. In that case, I’m sure you have your share of intel to spill. But I’m also quite certain you could use a bit of rest after everything. I won’t keep you long, but while you’re here,” wordlessly, she cast a sidelong glance across the room, and nodded. From the edge of the briefing room, an older, snide looking man moved to join the pair. Clara had seen this man before, though not in person. “I’d like to introduce you to Fleet Admiral Decker. Normally he leads from Halcyon Thunder, but when he heard tell of a rescue op, he wanted to oversee it personally.” Clara couldn’t be certain, but she thought she detected a hint of disdain in Trapper’s voice as she introduced her superior. 


Another salute, Clara was forced to hold it for longer than she’d like, apparently Decker was one of those leaders. When she was finally allowed to relax, she gave him a brisk, but professional greeting. “Good to meet you, sir. You’ll be pleased to hear that the affini military hierarchy speaks of you often.” It was never a bad idea to feed the ego of his type. What Decker didn’t need to know, was that they only ever spoke of him with mockery over how pathetically underwhelming the ‘Fleet’ half of his title was. He was the sort of person an affini would say ‘would look good in a collar,’ not out of any desire to actually possess him, but out of smug superiority. And they were right, he would look good in a collar, a symbol of everything old Terra stood for brought to its knees. Mistress would be very proud of Clara when she delivered him on a platter. 


Judging from the way Decker looked at her, it seemed the disdain Clara felt was hardly one sided. “Lieutenant Bailey. I hear you wept when they pulled you from the vines of that plant.” Clara couldn’t wait to see how hard he wept when they got their vines on him.


“I wasn’t in my right mind, sir. I think you’ll find me both willing and able to give those xenos exactly what’s coming to them.” Again, Clara left out the part where what the affini had coming for them was an entire ship full of new pets. 


Decker snorted. “We will see, won’t we? But if you’re ever looking for a way off, there’s an airlock with your name on it.” 


Grimacing, Trapper took a step forward. “Sir, with all due respect, I will not allow one of my best officers to be spoken to that way aboard my ship.” 


Anger burning in his eyes, Decker whirled on Trapper. “This may be your ship, Rear Admiral, but this is my fleet.” Tension practically crackled through the air around them. Clara smirked; she could use tension. 


Before either could speak up, Clara cut in. “Admiral Trapper, I meant to bring this matter to your attention. About the other prisoners your team rescued. I was told some are arguing for them to be spaced. If I may, I strongly suggest otherwise. We can use them.”


As she predicted, Decker was not the sort who liked being ignored. By the time he managed to scream out his response, Clara was starting to wonder if he would burst. “That is not your decision, Lieutenant Bailey.” Things were rolling to a boil now, part of Clara wondered if she was pushing things too far, but she and the other florets wouldn’t all make it through alive without a bit of risk. 


Sensing the exact same thing, Trapper moved to de-escalate. “Admiral Decker, the lives of these captives may be one of the only bargaining chips the rebellion has. The affini will want them back. We may be able to use that.”


Anyone could see Decker wasn’t listening to reason, which was exactly what Clara needed. The point of no return was rapidly approaching. Clara felt no resistance from her implant, only a cold rush of blooming confidence, a gift from her owner. Taking a bold step forward, Clara moved right into Decker’s face. “If I might ask, ‘Fleet’ Admiral. What, exactly, was the point of risking a rescue op for what must be one of your only spies inside the Compact, if you were going to then turn around and ignore that spy’s intel?” 


“I expected soldiers, what I got was pathetic, weak, cowardly plantfuckers in frilly dresses. You’re no different, you have the same scar on your neck as the rest of them. You’re their property.” Decker spat, as though that were some sort of insult. “Once a plantfucker, always a plantfucker.” Admittedly, he was right. “You want to know why I’m going to ignore your advice? Because I’m the fucking Fleet Admiral. And if I want to rescue a bunch of sniveling traitors for the sheer joy of spacing them myself then I’ll do it.” 


“An Admiral? On whose authority? The Accord is gone. It’s the fucking wild west out here.” Clara cast a sidelong glance to Trapper. “Respectfully, Ma’am. The Fleet Admiral here is unfit to lead.” 


Trapper looked about ready to burst herself, but Decker erupted first. “I’ll have you fucking hung for that—”


“It’s hanged, Decker. I don’t need your help being hung.” With a snide grin, Clara took another step forward, bringing her face inches from his. “Just now, you called me a weak, sniveling coward. Would you like to see a real weak, sniveling coward?”


From the look in Decker’s eyes, Clara could tell that was the final straw; honestly, she was surprised he hadn’t snapped sooner. It didn’t matter, she could already feel her implant responding in kind. Clara knew exactly what came next. “Ensign Reynolds, Corporal Michaels, take this fucking tra—“ whatever Decker was about to say next, he didn’t have the chance. Clara was too busy driving her forehead into the bridge of his nose. As Decker dropped, screaming in a way that a long dormant part of Clara—a bad part of Clara—took great pleasure in, she snatched his sidearm from its holster. She wasn’t allowed to touch these; she was being a b—her implant snipped that line of thought before it could finish.  


The soldiers Deckard called out to had been standing idly a ways behind Trapper, they were her first concern. Clara’s implant was helpful enough to remind her that there was also another pair of soldiers—including Sally—standing guard outside the door. With speed and precision that could only come from a body guided by the most advanced biomedical science in the universe, Clara took aim, and shot the weapons out of her aggressors hand before they could so much as take aim. Catching Decker in one hand, Clara hauled the man up with strength she was certain she didn’t have only hours ago, jammed her pistol into his mouth, and turned to face the door as she backed herself toward the wall, granting her full view of the room. A split second later, the doors sprung open. And with two more shots, Clara disarmed Sally and her compatriot. Her sidearm returned to Decker’s mouth, and silence fell over the room. 


“Now,” Clara breathed, between panting breaths. Again, panic started to rise up. This was wrong; she wasn’t supposed to hurt people. She wanted Mistress. And she was going to have Mistress, but first, Clara needed to make it through this. “This, pathetic excuse for a soldier isn’t in charge around here anymore.” With casual disdain, she threw Decker to the ground. Glaring down at him, Clara leaned against the wall. “You think I’m weak, Decker? You think those rescues are weak?” Glancing up, Clara looked each member of her captive audience in the eye. “Let me make one thing clear. The affini are better than any human: stronger, quicker, smarter, tougher. Me though? I’m not entirely human anymore. I have a piece of one of them embedded in my spine. Right now, you have seven more rescues held in the brig. Give me the opportunity, and I’ll make seven more soldiers just like me.” Clara fixed Trapper with a fiery gaze. “Does that sound good to you, Ma’am?”


“If you can really make that happen,” Trapper replied soberly. 


“You sound uncertain. If I might ask, why did you rescue me?”


“We thought you might know something that could help win the war. And, on a more personal note, I sent you out on that mission. I felt I owed it to you.” That was exactly what Clara needed to hear. All it would take now was a little push.


Casually, Clara placed her pistol on the table. “In that case, you’re going to listen to me when I say I know how we can beat them. Because that was just the beginning. Give me time; I’ll lead the rebellion into a new era.” Trapper huffed, and nodded. 


On the walk back to her quarters, exhaustion caught up with Clara. At the very least she was deemed important enough for her own cabin, a fact she was grateful for in spite of how offended she was at the notion that she be treated as better than or more important than others. Truthfully, though, it was for everyone’s own good, including Clara’s, that she be afforded some privacy; she needed a place she could retreat to and let her mask slip. Clara reached her quarters; the door opened, then closed behind her. She fell forward into the hard, cramped bed, and let her strength slide off her. Tears streamed down her face as shuddering sobs wracked her body. 


In the back of her mind, Clara could feel her implant working to try and fix things, but without Mistress to control it, there was only so much it could do. The temptation to just slip away, to let her implant drug her into submission and hope this was all a vivid nightmare, ate at Clara. But it would do her no good to be discovered in a drugged out haze, and her implant seemed to know that as well as she did. Instead, Clara felt her owner’s biorhythm amplify in her mind, though it was nothing compared to the real thing. Still, it was enough to keep her from shattering entirely. One last time, Clara reminded herself that she was doing this for Mistress. She pictured the look of relief and pride on Citrodora's face when Clara finally returned to her owner’s embrace with an entire ship full of rebels in tow. That, at least, made her smile a little. Taking a few slow breaths, Clara curled into herself, threw the blankets over herself, and tried to pretend she was anywhere else.

Hello my lovely readers! Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! I'd like to take one more opportunity to plug my patreon https://www.patreon.com/sapphicsounds, where you can read up to chapter 13 of this story. You'll also get early and or ecxlusive access to other content such as erotic audio recordings AND pictures of my cat. I'd also like to mention that currently, all of my patreon income goes toward mutual aid, ongoing until I announce otherwise. So come of the smut, stay for the knowledge that your money is going to helping people in need! 

Show the comments section (2 comments)

Back to top


Register / Log In

Stories
Authors
Tags

About
Search