Neko Freedom

If you don't like yaoi (boyXXboy) then DON'T READ. Was supposed to be a lemon but turned into much longer story, sorry... I hope you enjoy!

He grabbed my hand and led me to a stranger. A light shone behind the tall man and I couldn't see his face. He was fat and smelled of sweat. Standing next to him, possibly being bought by him, it completely grossed me out. I had no say in the matter, though. Neither did all the others that had been sold before me. We were machines for any purposes that our owners, or masters, had us for. In the factories, we were taught to believe that they were holy and to listen to every word that left their lips. Unfortunately, I had enough sense and experience to know this was not what I wanted.

As I looked around the room, frightened of the possibilities around me, I listened as the two men talked. "Of course you want a young one, they are the newest shipment." The shopkeeper had said, lying to the costumer.

I had been here for a long time, almost my whole life. No one ever cared to look at me, some said I gave off a negative mood, others just didn't care for guys.  My hands were tied in red rope, rashes underneath them from struggling. I didn't know why they were treating me like this, the others never had to wear rope. It must be because of how I bit other costumers before...

 My ears laid against my blonde hair. The stranger looked at the clothes I was wearing. I had a black nightgown on, like all the others. On my feet were thin, worn out shoes. I had enough to not be naked but I looked homeless. They had sold costumes in the store, which many always bought for their new neko.

"The newest shipment, huh?" That tall man, whose face I strained to see, contemplated over buying me.

There were many more like me that had been caged in the back of the store. I was always taken out and shown to other men, but none ever bought me. Mostly because of my temperament. I tried to scare them and scratched at them, hoping they wouldn't buy me. It seemed to be working.

"This one is a boy, though. We have some girls in the back if you prefer." The shopkeeper sounded annoyed when he asked the costumer the question, guessing that he would rather have another than me.

"I would like to get a girl." The stranger said, it pretty obvious why he would.

The shopkeeper dragged me back by a rope around my neck, which was red too. After he closed the door behind us, that man slapped me to the floor. Tears welled up in my eyes but I fought them from running down my cheek. He kicked me into the cage, leaving a huge bruise on my back rib cage. I struggled to take off the rope, throwing them to the ground.

I looked at the poor girl he took out and dragged down the hall. She looked hopeful but her heart shattered when she saw the thick built man in front of her. I watched as that sick, twisted man smiled and shook the shopkeepers hand. He had wanted to buy her the second he saw her, ugly images flashing through his mind.

Anger heated up my body as I watched him walk out with her. She now wore a pink color that symbolized her ownership. It disgusted me, but I felt a little relieved. I know that what I was thinking was bad, but at least it wasn't me.

About a week had gone by and many others were sold. Mostly girls had been bought but occasionally a boy was taken. The shopkeeper kicked me around, calling me worthless, telling me I had been here the longest. 'Unwanted' had become a favorite nickname the shopkeeper would call me. If he was nice, I could see myself wanting him. He wasn't ugly, but his heart was. The young man seemed to be in his late twenties, muscular, tall. Everything about him was seductive, but I hated him.

I began to loose hope, after being locked up for so long, one tends to do so. But one day, the shopkeeper came in drunk. The shop had closed early that night, for some celebratory news, but he came back. He only came in drunk one other time, and he beat the hell out of me. As he stumbled through the isles, the others and I held our breath, hearing shatters on the ground. Maybe he would forget we were in here, maybe he wouldn't beat me, again.