
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/395725.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M, Other
  Fandom:
      Homestuck, MS_Paint_Adventures
  Relationship:
      John_Egbert/Dave_Strider, The_Condesce/John_Egbert
  Character:
      John_Egbert, The_Condesce, Dave_Strider, Rose_Lalonde, Jade_Harley,
      Terezi_Pyrope, Vriska_Serket
  Additional Tags:
      Hurt/Comfort, Psychological_Trauma, Captivity, Slavery, Abuse, Mpreg,
      Rescue
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-05-01 Completed: 2014-07-18 Chapters: 10/10 Words: 6807
****** One Precious Thing ******
by runbravelybackward_(victorienne)
Summary
     Cross-posted from this_prompt on the kink meme
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
***** Chapter 1 *****
Your name is John Egbert, but a sickening feeling in your gut tells you that's
not going to mean a thing shortly. You've found yourself surrounded by trolls
who are sneering at you and talking among themselves in a language or heavy
accent you don't understand. You count at least ten or fifteen who have formed
into a ring around you, and you try your best to keep your morale up. It's not
like you haven't slaughtered countless imps of various shapes and sizes. You
can do this.
You're shaking, but you raise your hammer, ready to strike. "You assholes want
a taste of Wrinklefucker?" you shout, trying to intimidate them or at least
tell them you weren't going down without a fight. "Come at me!" But you mostly
just feel even smaller and more hopeless.
A few of them look at each other and exchanged sharp-toothed grins before
advancing toward you. You narrow your eyes, and adrenaline courses through you.
You're going to take them down or die trying. The first one to reach you swings
a massive club at your head, but you duck easily and use your advantage of a
lesser height to slam Wrinklefucker into his chest. He staggers back, and
another troll comes flying at you. You jump out of the way of his intended
sword blow before spinning on your heel to bash your hammer into another
troll's skull. That one's down for the count, anyway, and you hope the rest
took notice.
But from the way they just keep flinging themselves at you relentlessly, you
don't think they care about their fallen comrade. Maybe she was just expendable
to them. You take down at least four more, but the endless assault is starting
to weaken you. Wrinklefucker is like an extension of your arm by now, but your
arm is starting to feel like gelatin, and you don't know how much longer you're
going to last.
As you spin to clock another troll in the face, you feel a searing pain in your
left arm. You instinctively clutch it to your chest, and lacking the strength
of your dominant arm, your right arm, fatigued from the fight, can't hold up
your hammer. Wrinklefucker falls to the ground in before you as you cradle your
left arm which is sporting a vicious gash and dripping blood. You try to move
it to make yourself more defensible, but you hiss in pain.
Preoccupied with your injury, you don't notice the troll with a club running at
you. You feel like static is running through your body, and your thoughts slow
as your vision starts to fade. You're about to die, and all you can think is
that this was supposed to be a game. You just want to see your dad again. You
just want to meet Dave and Rose and Jade.
How could things have turned out this way?
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     This is also available on the kink_meme and tumblr, if you prefer
     those.
You wake up to heavy blackness, your thoughts trying to break through the haze
to enlighten you on your current state. Your name is John Egbert. You hung out
with your three best friends yester-- Wait, no. You badgered them to play a
game with you. That one where you change around people's houses and stuff--with
server and client players and a green house... SBURB, that was it.
And upon remembering the game, memories flood back--imps, sprites, the Land of
Wind and Shade, the Battlefield. Some memories are beautiful and heartwarming,
but there are others you wish weren't true but are to terrible to only be
nightmares. And then you remember.
You sit up, forcing yourself to full alertness. Your head throbs and spins, but
you resist the urge to lie back down. There's no chance that hit didn't give
you a concussion, and you lift your left hand to make sure all of your head is
still intact. But as you raise your arm, pain spikes through it, and you cry
out. You brave a glance at your arm, and find that it's been bandaged clumsily,
clearly with barely enough effort to cover the wound. The fabric is splotched
with red.
You try to move to sit more comfortably, but your right ankle catches on
something. You turn to look at what it is and freeze with horror when you see
that there's a tight metal cuff locked around your ankle, chaining you to the
smooth white wall behind you. Jarred out of your preoccupation with your
physical health, you look around the room. The cell is very small with a low
ceiling and entirely white walls. In the wall on your right is a door that
nearly blends in with the rest of the room. There's a small square in the door
that looks like a window, though it's blocked from the other side.
The room is just barely large enough to not make you claustrophobic, but the
fact that you know almost nothing about your current situation gnaws at you.
You try to tell yourself that this is all an elaborate prank or just some troll
welcoming ritual--a trial of sorts. But you don't believe it.
You suddenly remember your glasses have access to pesterchum. Maybe someone's
noticed you're gone and is trying to rescue you already! You smile at the
thought of this nightmare being over and log into pesterchum. Tears spring to
your eyes when you see that, not only do you have a connection--Dave is online.
You grin through tears of relief thinking of how Dave will flip his shit, poker
face shattered, and come to rescue you right away. You'll be out of here in no
time at all--he is the time guy.
ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]
EB: dave!!
EB: i need your help right away!!!
EB: time to launch a timely bro rescue and sweep me off my feet!
EB: dave, are you there?
EB: please, dave i really need your help!!
EB: egbert to strider, come in, strider.
EB: please, dave. please, please be there.
EB: some trolls knocked me out, and now i'm in a prison cell... somewhere.
EB: please, dave.
EB: i really need your help.
EB: dave?
turntechGodhead [TG] is now an idle chum
EB: oh god, no.
Before you can panic, you hear the door of the cell open with a bang. You
freeze as a troll nearly twice your full height stares down at you. He advances
and rips the glasses off your face. He tosses them to the ground and crushes
them under a booted heel. You choke back a sob, and, in too confused a state to
fight back, you let him drag you to your feet and pin your arms behind your
back. He takes leather strap from his pocket and, twisting your arms until
they're folded behind you, ties them painfully tightly together. He remains
silent as he unlocks the cuff around your ankle before placing his hands on
your shoulders and forcing you to walk toward the exit of your cell.
***** Chapter 3 *****
ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]
EB: dave!!
EB: i need your help right away!!!
EB: time to launch a timely bro rescue and sweep me off my feet!
EB: dave, are you there?
EB: please, dave i really need your help!!
EB: egbert to strider, come in strider.
EB: please, dave. please, please be there.
EB: some trolls knocked me out, and now i'm in a prison cell... somewhere.
EB: please, dave.
EB: i really need your help.
EB: dave?
turntechGodhead [TG] is now an idle chum
EB: oh god, no.
TG: egbert what the fuck is going on?
TG: where are you?
ectoBiologist [EB] has ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]
TG: shit
TG: fuck fuck fuck
 
Your name is Dave Strider, and you are on the verge of jamming your sword into
the ground and getting on top of it so you can execute a literal acrobatic
pirouette off the handle. But you don't have time for that shit. Your best bro
loves pranks and has been known to do some pretty asinine stuff, but he would
never pull something like this unless it were legit. He's appearing as offline,
but you know he has his Serious Business Goggles that let him remain online all
the time. Someone must have taken them. He can't see a foot in front of his
face without his glasses.
Feeling slightly ill with nervousness, you decide to get in touch with the only
person who might know what to do.
 
turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]
TG: john is gone
TT: What?
TG: someone fucking kidnapped john or some shit
TT: Slow down. I need you to tell me exactly what's going on.
TG: i dont know
TG: he just sent me a bunch of frantic messages about how some trolls ko'd him
and dragged him off
TT: I'm going to need more information than that, Dave.
TG: thats all i fucking have
TG: we have to find him
TT: I don't know how, if that's the full extent of our knowledge of his
situation.
TG: i dont care how
TG: we have to get to him
TT: We will, Dave. Why don't I get in touch with one of the trolls to see if
they have any idea what might be happening?
TG: ok
TG: what do you want me to do?
TT: You're being unusual helpful.
TG: what do you fucking expect?
TG: just tell me what i need to do lalonde
TT: Just trying lighten both of our moods which, I admit, was a rather dead-end
plan from conception.
TT: As for what I need from you, just try to keep calm and keep advancing in
the game.
TT: I don't know if or when I'll receive helpful information from the trolls,
so do what you can on LOHAC.
TT: I'll contact you when I find something that might be of use.
turntechGodhead [TG] has ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]
 
You're about to punch the next nakkadile that looks at you funny (and you
should be able to relieve your frustration pretty quickly since they always
look at everything funny). You feel like you're about to be sick. Your best
friend has been beaten up, taken who-knows-where, and there is nothing you can
fucking do about it.
***** Chapter 4 *****
The troll has guided you down a long white hallway and into another room. This
one is filled with cabinets and shelves of boxes and strange-looking tools and
has a large metal table in the center. It's strangely clinical, almost like an
exam room in some bizarre veterinary clinic.
The troll removes the strap that had been boring into your wound and instructs
you to remain perfectly still, or your arm and head will be the least of your
bodily damage.
Before you can react, he unbuckles your belt and pulls your pants and boxers
down to your ankles, leaving you naked from the waist down aside from your
shoes and socks. But when he tries to pull your shirt off, you're collected
enough to punch him in the neck as hard as you can with your right arm. He
staggers back, and you kick your shoes off to get out of the pants around your
ankles and run for the door as he gasps for air. You pull frantically on the
handle, but it won't budge. You're on the verge of trying to kick through what
may be a metal door when a long-nailed hand grabs your neck from behind. He
picks you up and pins you, back against the door, by your neck. You kick
against the air between your feet and the floor and struggle to pull his iron
grip off of you.
"What is your name?" he snarls, staring into your eyes with his own, violet
irises standing out against his yellow corneas.
"J-John..." is all you can gasp out, struggling for air and solidity.
Suddenly, he throws you, face first, to the floor. You feel your nose bend with
a crack as pain shoots up your left arm from instinctively trying to break your
fall. You roll onto your side and pant, unwilling to give him the satisfaction
of hearing you scream.
"Wrong. You don't have a name." He crouches down beside you and grabs your
chin, digging his sharpened nails into your cheeks and forcing you to look at
him. "Names are for people, not the Empress' pet."
The word "pet" chills your blood, but you keep eye contact with the troll. "I'm
not a pet."
The troll's expression turns from irritation to outright anger. He kicks you in
the stomach, and as you convulse, he rips your shirt off and yanks off your
socks. Completely naked on the cold floor, tears leaking onto your cheeks, you
close your eyes and tell yourself it's all a nightmare. You'll wake up on the
Land of Wind and Shade, or better yet, in your own house with the whole game
just a terrible dream.
"Get up." You curl into yourself, partly in fear and partly in stubbornness,
and the troll seizes you by your injured arm and hauls you to your feet. You
scream in pain and nearly collapse from agony, but he holds you up by your
shoulders until you balance yourself. "Don't move."
You decide you're not going to escape whatever's coming, so you do as he asks,
looking at the white-tiled floor as you wipe the blood dripping from your nose
with your uninjured arm. You can hear him rattling with the tools on the other
side of the room, but you refuse to look up. You don't want to know what's
coming anymore.
He returns to stand in front of you and lifts your chin gruffly before wrapping
something around your neck. You tense immediately, but he takes whatever it was
away quickly. Catching a glimpse of it, you see that it's a band with regular
markings on it--a tape measure, you guess.
"Sit on the table," he says as he returns to the other side of the room. You
eventually bring yourself to move and hop onto the metal table, the cold
surface against your bare skin instantly freezing you to the bone. The troll
comes over to stand in front of you, holding something metallic in his hands.
"Lift your chin." You pause before deciding it's probably in your best interest
to do as he asks.
He brings what he's holding up to your neck, and you feel cold metal press
against your skin. Maybe he's going to kill you right now. You're about to
punch him again before something clicks at the back of your neck, and the metal
settles against your shoulders. A collar. All the strength leaves your body,
and you bite your lower lip hard to keep from crying. The cool pressure against
your neck and shoulders makes this far, far too real. If this were a dream,
that would have woken you up, screaming and sweating. But you're still here.
You're awake.
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
"Comfortable?" the troll sneers. You summon the strength to look him in the eye
and glare.
In a flash, he wraps a finger around the ring hanging from your collar. He
yanks on it, and sends you hurtling toward the floor. You land with most of
your weight on your right knee. Though you cry out in pain, you're relieved
that you didn't hear or feel anything break. You feel the troll's boot press
into your back and grind your ribs against the floor.
"You do not look your masters in the eye. For nearly destroying the Empress'
plans, you don't even deserve to be alive. But she is generous. You not only
get to live, you get to serve Her Imperial Condescension." He kicks you onto
your back with the toe of his boot and puts his foot in the center of your
chest, leaning some of his weight on it as he peers down at you. You hold in a
scream as you continue to glare up at him. He's not going to break you this
easily. "You'd best be grateful." At that, he grinds down against your ribs.
"STOP! STOP!" You reach up to try and shove his foot off of you, but it's
entirely futile.
He leans nearly all his weight on your lower chest as he brings his face close
to yours. You scream as you feel one of your lower ribs crack under the heel of
his boot. "Did you just give me an order?" he growls, his face so close that
his saliva lands on your cheek as you try to look away. You shudder, knowing
that to say yes would invite retribution and to say no would be a lie, also
begging for more broken bones.
He leans back, apparently satisfied with your silence. "Good boy. Pets don't
speak, do they?" he says in a cruelly condescending tone that only the most
vicious person would use with a dog. He takes his foot off your chest. "Stand."
You contemplate not responding to what is clearly a tone used only when
training animals, but you would rather be alive with a little less pride than
dead. You have a game to finish, friends to take care of. They'll come for you.
You have to stay alive until they reach you.
So you stand, biting your lip to stop yourself from screaming in pain as you
move your torso, fractured rib and all. Your battered right leg refuses to
carry much weight, but you try to stand up as straight as you can, making sure
to look at the floor. You see the troll's rough hand come toward your neck, and
you instantly flinch away. A slap on the cheek follows before he quickly clips
a heavy chain to the ring on your collar. He yanks on it, nearly sending you to
the floor again, but you catch yourself on the metal table. You realize you
saved yourself with your injured arm, but you barely notice the pain in
comparison to your ribs and leg as you're forced to walk back out of the room.
Chapter End Notes
     It gets worse from here, ya'll. Make sure you're watching those
     warnings and tags.
***** Chapter 6 *****
tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]
TT: Kanaya believes it was the Condesce who took John.
TG: the what?
TT: The Condesce, also called Her Imperial Condescension.
TT: She's the Empress of the Alternian empire.
TG: fuck this is going to be complicated isnt it?
TT: Quite. We'll have to track her ship, which defies spacetime, before we can
even hope to put a dent in its defenses.
TT: Even then, we'd be without much hope. Hers is the flagship of the fleet
with the best shields and weaponry and is most likely manned with the most well
trained guards the empire has to offer.
TG: i dont fucking care ill murder this alien bitch myself if i have to
TT: I wouldn't advise it. Besides, none of us are going to give up on John.
TT: The trolls are rallying to help us break him out, since they're more
familiar with the technology that might be in use.
TG: how long is this going to take?
TG: we dont have forever
TT: Actually, we may have forever, or it might already be too late.
TT: The Battleship Condescension, the Condesce's ship, operates in its own
pocket of spacetime, independent of ours.
TG: fuck
TG: how fast can we get this together?
TT: I don't know, but I'm sure they're going as fast as they can. Attempt to
have some patience.
TG: like thats going to fucking happen
TT: I don't see that you have much choice.
TT: Kanaya's pestering me again, and I have to see how they're progressing.
TT: I will keep you posted.
tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]
You pick up the nearest solid object (which is, thankfully, a rock and not a
nakkadile) and throw it against the wall so hard that it breaks into tiny
pieces. Why couldn't you have done something? There must have been some
loophole you missed. This can't be the way things were supposed to go.
But you still have contact with the trolls. This is, somehow, still the alpha
timeline. You can't undo this. You can't take away all the pain that John must
already have gone through and any between now and his rescue (because you're
definitely going to save him).
Will he still be your goofy, happy-go-lucky best friend when you find him? Will
he even still be alive? The thought of finding John's body, mutilated and
motionless, forces you to lean against the nearby wall. You cover your mouth
with your hand, but a choked sob still escapes. You had always hoped that your
first meeting with your best bro would involve a fist bump, a sweet bro hug,
and--best case scenario--maybe even some sloppy makeouts. But you never even
told him how much you... care about him. You're not big on expressing feelings
and that shit, but if you had known this was going to happen, you would have
told him every day that you... loved him. This isn't this best time to finally
admit it to yourself, but, yeah.
You love him. And you're going to fucking save him.
***** Chapter 7 *****
You're standing naked in the hallway outside a huge door. The cold floor under
your feet and the metal collar around your neck ensure that you're shaking with
cold by the time the door slides open to admit you and the troll holding your
chain. When he tries to pull you inside, you root yourself to the floor,
forcing him to pull hard on the chain. The force of it sends you sprawling, and
by now, you remember that it's less painful to just try and land on the side
without the broken ribs than to catch yourself with your shattered arm. You
still grunt in pain as you fall against the hard floor, but you scramble to get
up before the troll can attack you in punishment. But as you attempt to raise
yourself, you feel a heavy boot push against your back--not enough to shove you
back to the floor, but enough to keep you from standing.
"You are not to stand in the presence of your mistress. You'd do well to obey
her, or you'll be sorry you were born."
"What, you'll kill me?" you hiss before you can stop yourself.
But the troll laughs and removes his foot from your back. "You will wish with
everything you are that we had."
You shudder at his almost cheerful tone and feel yourself move as he pulls you
through the door.
Inside, the room is lavishly decorated with black curtains and strange statues
and paintings. The troll pulls you along too quickly for you to examine any of
them in detail, most of your attention being focused on the pain that wracks
your body as you crawl along, favoring your broken arm.
"Is this the boy?"
"Yes, your Imperial Majesty." The troll stops and drops to his knees before a
raised platform. He averts his eyes, but you can't help but look up.
The troll before you is seated on an elaborate throne of black stone, her long
curls flowing all the way to the floor. Her attire is simple, but not plain--
black detailed in fuchsia. Your eyes meet hers for an instant before you have
to look away. You have never seen such cruel pleasure on someone's face before.
Her Imperial Condescension.
She rises and steps toward you, cupping your chin with sharp-nailed fingers.
Tilting your head to look at her, she gives you a vicious grin.
"So you're the one who's been causing all this trouble--the leader of the human
children."
"I--"
She grips your hair in her hand and pulls upward, making you scream in pain.
"You are my pet. You do not speak. You do not stand. You do not have a name.
You do not have rights. And you do not disobey me. Is that clear?"
"Ye--"
She yanks your hair again, and tears flood your eyes. Turning to the other
troll who is still kneeling beside you, she snaps her fingers. "Bring me a
muzzle. I see he is going to be difficult."
"Should I bring a whip as well?"
"Did I ask for one?"
"...No."
"Then, what do you think the answer is?"
"...No."
She smiles at him while he backs away, then hurries off. Turning back to you,
she releases your hair, and you collapse on the floor, unwilling to move even
though no one is holding the chain. "It's not surprising that you're so
willful, climbing to the top of your session's participants as a leader. But I
like a challenge. You wouldn't be a fitting trophy if you offered no
resistance."
You shudder in response, curling into yourself.
"What, no retorts? You were so vocal just a moment ago."
"My friends will find me. They'll--"
"Friends?" She laughs. "Is that so? You think that someone cares enough about
you to save you? that someone is willing to risk his own life for you? Do you
know what defenses this ship has? It's impenetrable. No, I think you're mine
for as long as I want to keep you."
You're about to argue, but you can't think of anything to say. Who would risk
their own skin to save yours? Dave. Dave would, right? You open your mouth to
say so, but she cuts you off.
"Anyone who could even get near this ship would be immediately obliterated.
Unless I wanted them. I could give them to my guards to play with. I could even
let you watch."
A sob wracks your body at the thought of Dave-- No. You can't let that happen.
Why did you even tell him you'd been taken? Maybe he wouldn't have noticed.
Maybe he would have stayed safe that way. Maybe you could at least have a bit
of happiness amid this torture, knowing that he wouldn't be hurt.
You're so consumed by your thoughts that you barely even notice when the other
troll comes back and arranges the straps of the muzzle around your head,
fastening it in the back, or when he attaches the chain on your collar to a
post beside the Condesce's throne. You just curl up there, wishing you never
existed. Then, maybe the people you care about would have been happy and safe.
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Notes
     Yay, required bridge chapter... \o/
     Sorry for the delay! I had a con, then minor surgery, and I've just
     gotten a chance to be productive again!
You are the Condesce's pet, and though you remember your name, it seems like
something far away and unimportant. You don't own anything, not even an
identity. You hardly even feel like you exist when the empress does not
acknowledge you.
It took them a long time to break you. After the initial shock and fear wore
off, you tried to fight back with your body and your voice. Eventually, they
deemed you unfit to be present in the throne room, and you were kept in your
cell for days, each of your limbs fastened by a short chain to the wall or the
floor. You couldn't stand, and when they brought you food, you had to bend over
and lick it out of the bowl. It was disgusting slop--nothing like your dad's
awesome cooking. It hurt to think of home, or even of your planet, but it
reminded you that this cell wasn't all that your universe was. Trolls came in
only to begrudgingly give you food or to attempt to "train" you, but you wasted
no opportunity to tell them you were going to escape and that your friends were
coming for you. They laughed, and you didn't really believe it either, but if
you didn't say it, you would have forgotten there was any hope.
But after a while, your attempts to resist the oppression faltered. The food
they gave you was only just enough to keep you alive, and they woke you at all
hours to train you or to punish you--either for talking out, fighting back, or
just because they felt like it. You became physically incapable of preventing
them from doing what they wanted with you, and your hope for escape suffered.
Once they saw you were becoming more docile, they brought you back to the
Condesce. You wasted no time telling her there was no way she could keep you
here, but she simply kicked you in the stomach without even rising from her
throne. You tried to get up, but you couldn't. She laughed, saying you talked a
good game, before signaling the trolls who had brought you in to attach the
chain on your collar to her throne and to muzzle you.
From that point, you resided in the Condesce's throne room, unable to do
anything but curl up at her feet and listen for your own breathing to make sure
you were still alive. They learned that, as soon as they took the muzzle off
you to allow you to eat, you went right back to shouting at them with all the
strength you had left, so they timed your meals, not giving you long enough to
both speak and eat. At first, you chose to continue your fruitless tirades, but
eventually, you could no longer handle both the starvation and the whipping
they gave you as a result. You stopped speaking altogether. When you couldn't
hear your own voice, even once a day, when you couldn't tell them and tell
yourself that this couldn't last forever, you started to lose hope. Then, you
started to lose yourself.
Now, you respond to each of the Condesce's commands--not because you want to,
but because there is nothing else you can do. You sit on the floor with your
head in her lap while she strokes your hair with long-nailed fingers.
"I told them you would be a good boy. They didn't believe me, but I was right.
I always am, aren't I?"
You nuzzle her leg, and she makes a pleased noise.
"You're such a good boy when you're quiet. I think I'll keep you with me
forever. And I think I know how to take care of that."
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Notes
     **WARNING**
      
      
     This chapter is very graphic in terms of torture, abuse, and rape.
     For people sensitive to that stuff who'd like to read the rest of the
     story without reading this chapter, I'll include a summary of the
     events in the one in the start of the next chapter.
     Seriously, this chapter is pretty creepy.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
As soon as the Condesce makes her foreboding statement, she snaps her fingers.
Several masked trolls advance toward you while the Condesce unlocks the chains
that secure your arms and legs. They wait, looming over you, as she unlocks
your muzzle and replaces it with a thicker one that has something on the inside
that's soft but firm and protrudes a little into your mouth.
"You humans are quite sensitive to pain, so I think you'll want something to
bite down on that's not your tongue." She smiles at you in amusement before
handing your leash to one of the masked trolls.
You're shaking in fear, though you know better than to try imagining what's
ahead--it's always worse than anything your imagination can come up with. The
troll yanks you forward and you give one last moan to the Condesce, trying to
beg for her mercy, but she's already turned away from you. You have no choice
but to crawl along as quickly as you can behind the trolls, trying not to choke
with the collar's pressure against your neck.
After what seems like hours but you know can't have been, the trolls lead you
into an unlabeled room--not that you'd have been able to read one of their
labels anyway--and bring you over to a metal table. You remember the last metal
table a troll brought you to, and you start trying to back up and struggle out
of your collar. One of the trolls says something you don't catch, and the
others laugh. The one who spoke leans down and picks you up by the collar,
choking you as he carries you over to the table. When he sets you down, you
gasp for breath, but before you can even exhale again, they've pushed you flat
on your back against the table, shifting you a little and stretching out your
limbs. They clamp your arms and legs into restraints built directly into the
table that are so tight they allow for barely enough circulation. Once you're
completely spread-eagle, they wrap a thick strap around your waist and turn on
a blindingly bright overhead lamp. One of the trolls adjusts it to focus on
your privates, and you automatically whimper and try to squirm away. But the
new muzzle muffles and nearly silences your sound, and the restraints render
your squirming nearly motionless.
The trolls all gather to look at your exposed privates and mutter quietly to
each other before one of them picks up a sharp scalpel and begins moving it
toward the area they're focused on. You give a muffled scream and try to thrash
out of your bonds, but the trolls pay no attention to your protests.
A sharp, biting pain, runs through your body as you feel the cold metal slice
into the tender skin of your perineum. You shake and whimper in pain, both
barely noticeable to anyone but yourself. But before you can recover from that,
you involuntarily cry out as the knife cuts deeper and the trolls spread open
the wound. You feel dizzy and disoriented, but you can feel them withdrawing
the knife and putting something thick into the incision and working it around.
The pain is so great that your vision goes black and you stop being able to
discern where the pain is. It's everywhere. Wave after wave of agony strikes
you, and you can feel yourself biting down so hard on the protruding part of
your muzzle that you're afraid you'll slice through it and bite off your own
tongue--but you can't control your muscles anymore. Your muted screaming
vibrates in your head until you finally mercifully black out.
--------------------------------------------
You barely have strength to open your eyes, but you feel consciousness creeping
back into you. Then a dull, throbbing pain strikes you, coming in alternating
waves of sharpness and heat. You look around, your vision blurred by pain and
weakness, and you see a blob of black and grey on one side of you. Then, you
hear a booming sound that might be laughter as the increasingly clear dark blob
starts splitting and drifting from its initial spot. Then you see the yellow
and orange on their heads.
The masked trolls.
You gradually start to feel your feet again and realize that the trolls
released your ankles from their restraints. But the minor freedom is short-
lived as they press the backs of your calves against your thighs, wrapping
thick straps around your bent legs and pushing your knees back toward your
sides. You hear some rough words echo around your eardrums before you feel the
table rotate until you're hanging there, sideways, held in place by the cuffs
around your ankles and waist. You feel sick from the motion and constant throbs
of pain, and you moan softly into your muzzle. Suddenly, one of the trolls
approaches your head and grabs your face roughly. You hear a metallic click,
and he unfastens your muzzle and pulls it away from your face. You vaguely
realize you still have a whole tongue, but you don't have the mental strength
at the moment to be grateful.
But before you can appreciate the ability to open your mouth, the troll grabs
your jaw and forces your mouth open. He pushes something thick and slimy into
it, and you gag at the sudden addition of what you realize is a tentacle that
seems to be its penis. Your eyes water, and you make a muffled sound that's
half gag, half whimper as it winds its fingers through your hair and pulls. You
try to pull back against its grip, but you can't. So you try biting down, but
that only results in what sounds like a groan of pleasure from the troll and an
agonizing yank on your hair. Before you can recover from that, you feel sharp
nails pulling apart the entrance to your anus, then a sharp pain as a wet,
bulging member thrusts into it. You feel tears stream down your face as you
scream into the tentacle in your mouth which you think has started to engorge
and twist around a little as the troll starts to thrust in and out of your
mouth.
But as you try to breathe shakily, you feel something at an opening you know
you didn't have before. The place where the throbbing pain is still emanating
from. But you don't get the chance to think too much about it before an audible
scream forces its way through your body and out of your throat as another wet
tentacle pushes into the raw second opening behind your scrotum. You alternate
sobbing and screaming as you try to breathe amid the thrusting of three
engorged members penetrating your body. You try to use your bound legs to push
the trolls away, but one of them grabs both legs and holds them in his sharp,
vise-like grip.
Your shrill sobs and the trolls' pleasured moans fill the room, and forgetting
that you have ever had anything but this agonizing present moment, you wish
that you could just will yourself to die. No one is coming for you. You thought
there was, once, but you don't even remember who. You don't know why they'd
come. You don't even remember a time before you were here, but you know there
must have been one. But in the face of all this, the hopeless future ahead of
you, it doesn't even matter. No one will save you. You were an idiot to think
otherwise.
Chapter End Notes
     .
***** Chapter 10 *****
I was asked quite a while back to do a summary of the rest of this fic like I
did with one of my others, If You Lie Down With Dogs, since I've long since
stopped writing Homestuck fic. The plan for One Precious Thing was less
concrete, but there are some definite bits I can share to tie up loose ends.
Chapter 10 would have been primarily about the Condesce having the trolls who
raped John executed in front of him and made an example of--no one was to touch
her pet but her. By that point, John was too traumatized from everything else
to react much to what happened to him. After that, the Condesce impregnated
him, and he didn't really have any will to resist her. He was brainwashed
enough to just be happy that she wasn't as cruel and vicious as the other
trolls.
John doesn't have any major pregnancy symptoms, so it takes him until he starts
putting on weight to realize what's happened. He's horrified and wants nothing
to do with this, and the Condesce uses that to tell him that, even if his
friends come to rescue him, they'll want nothing to do with it either and just
leave him there. She keeps John relatively docile and defeated that way for
quite a while, but as the pregnancy progresses, he can feel the baby moving. He
then realizes that, even if his friends aren't coming or if they do come and
subsequently reject him for what happened to him, he's not really alone
anymore.
But just as he starts to feel a strong bond with the baby, Dave, Rose, and Jade
arrive and manage to get him out of the Condesce's clutches. It isn't until
they get back to safety that they notice that John isn't the same as he was
before, in more ways than one. The baby had given him the strength to resist
some of the Condesce's brainwashing and manipulation, but he still wasn't
himself. Rose helped him recover mentally, and she and Jade quickly accepted
his pregnancy and that he wanted to keep the baby. Dave, however, found the
changes in John a lot more difficult to accept--especially the fact that he
wanted to keep the child--and tried to avoid John. But eventually, Rose forced
the two of them together to talk things out.
John told Dave about what had happened to him and how he thought they would
leave him there and that the baby was all he had (cue title drop). And Dave
eventually came to understand that, in spite of the ways he had changed, John
was still the same person he was in love with. It took him longer to understand
how John felt about the child, but Dave decided to be there when John was
giving birth to support him. The child (whom John named Casey, of course)
looked mostly human with some troll features, and over time, Dave grew to love
Casey, too. They became a close family and lived happily ever after, the end.
End Notes
     .
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their work!
