The Item, For Sale
#1 of Writing Prompt Group Submissions
Submission for First week's theme: Introductions.
A poor anthro is about to be sold to the highest bidder.
Rated T for violence, innuendo, and almost nudity.
The Item, For Sale
"Send in the next item!" The voice from the loudspeaker reverberated through the octagonal room.
A figure, wearing a full body shroud, was pushed through the door onto the walkway leading to the center of the room. The figure tried to run back through the door, but it was halted by a big, brawny, black furred doorman, whose face was covered by a pure white mask. He grabbed the figure by the arm, turned it around, and forced it to the circular platform in the middle of the room. After reaching the designated spot, he released the arm and shoved the figure to the ground as bright eyes pierced the fourteen windows on the other seven walls of the room.
"Item number twelve on tonight's roster," the loudspeaker rang out, "is quite a rarity indeed. This piece of merchandise is well worth a small fortune."
The doorman placed one hand on the figure's shoulder, restricting its movement. With the other, he tightly gripped the shroud, awaiting his queue.
"Buyers and traders, slavers and trainers, it gives me great pleasure to introduce you to ...the Dalmeleon!"
The doorman quickly pulled away the shroud, discarding it to the ground.
The male Dalmeleon remained motionless as he, unable to look at the windows, looked at the ground. His only garments were a tight red thong and a black collar that almost choked him. He hit the floor hard when the doorman kicked his back.
"Get up boy!" the doorman commanded.
The hybrid simply stayed on the ground; his only response to the fortress of muscle was, "Fuck you!"
The auctioneer's voice began again. "Looks like we got a rebel, gentlemen. This sexy little twenty-something may be a twig of a fur, but he's a feisty fighter full of more than one kind of spunk. For the bidder interested in a real challenge, this scanind will give you many many many hours of personal enjoyment."
The small young man on the platform was mortified, but he refused to show it. His ears stood straight as a soft but audible growl escaped his lips.
"As you can see, this male has green scales covering his arms and legs. There is also a line of scales down his back. And on his chest...Doorman, if you please."
The doorman kicked the side of the Dalmeleon, forcing him to turn onto his back. The black antrho looked down upon his spot furred victim, watching him as he grabbed his side from the pain.
"Look that mass of scales on his chest, as well the treasure trail leading to his family jewels. Watch how they--sandwiched between his soft, glossy, spotted fur--glisten from his perspiration. And those delicate, supple, tender pads on his scaled--and virgin--paws. A lot of fun can be had with this unusual collectable.
"And any buyer would also be interested to know that, before we got our hands on him, he was attending school and majoring in domestic arts. So, after you use his body for the necessities of your desire, you can use it for the necessities of your home. Just think of all the demeaning and fetish-fueled things you could have him do and wear."
The feeling of humiliation was growing inside the pit of the Dalmeleon's stomach. Still slightly dazed from the pain of the shard kick the doorman had given to him, he noticed a large flat screen television over the door he had been forced through just moments ago. On it, a looping slideshow of all the things he did and wore against his will over the last few days: candid pictures of him in a maid outfit doing dishes, in a prisoner's uniform mopping a floor, and dressed as a schoolboy copying words and definitions from a dictionary in detention; these and many other demeaning things.
Unable to bear the degradation any longer, the scanid stoop up and roared to show his resilience and try to scare away any prospective bidders. He felt a shock and fell to his knees. He realized that the collar he was wearing was the cause of his pain.
"Perfect timing! As a bonus we'll throw in this electric collar free of charge!" the announcer's voice expounded in excitement.
"Now for a demonstration. Show us what you can do, boy!"
The strong willed hybrid refused the command. The output of the collar was increased to the point of his body instinctively changing random color schemes. The shock was cut off; he was now on all fours. Breathing heavily, he still showed no signs of weakness.
"The applications for this ability--everything from party games to espionage--are practically inexhaustible. Whether you're a novice or an experienced collector, everyone can see that this piece will be a wonderful addition to any personal gallery of possessions. As for what is under that tight, crimson thong he has on...Well the only one who will know is whoever buys him.
"LET THE BIDDING COMMENCE!"
Screens above the widows began to flash bid amounts in red numbers. The Dalmeleon's 360 degree vision kicked in, unable to ignore the numbers. He could not keep up with the random flashes
$10,000...$13,000...$17,500...$25,000...$46,500...$98,000...
Although on the outside he kept his stoic demeanor, the rising numbers increased his dread. From ears to legs and tail to mouth, he fought every instinct of visible fear as he watched the bids get higher and higher.