( Completed ) Pet play | Axton X handsome Jack

Chapter 2: The Perfect Male Specimen

The Perfect Male Specimen

His body feels hot, unbearably hot. Hotter than the murderous sun beating down on his back out in the dust. He groans irritably and slowly his eyes strain to open. They adjust to the new, blinding light his pupils growing to soak it all in. It takes a moment for his slow brain to process where he is. He's no longer on the cement flooring of his cell. The constant smell of decay is no longer invading his senses. This place stinks in other ways. It smells like bleach and rubber. He blinks slowly, eyes still overwhelmed by the bright lighting. The florescent light above him hums and flickers slightly. He frowns as he looks up at it. That constant buzz is almost more annoying than the constant silence from the cells.

He lays there for a second accessing everything around him. This place is new, and though not dark and smelling of death, it still drips with a sense of danger. He swallows hard. His throat still feels dry and raspy, and his stomach is highly unsettled...but the ache in his body is considerably lessened. He tries to sit up only to realize he is bound to the hard table by massive cuffs.

"Fuck" He curses.

His voice comes out crackled and as rough as sandpaper. He coughs and clears his throat. He looks up at the ceiling again. It's white. As are the walls, they are white too. And the floor...white. Everything is fucking white. What did they send him to a mental ward?? The small, but steady, beep of a monitor then kisses his ears.

He looks to his right to see a machine monitoring his vital signs. That constant little beat has more meaning to him than one could ever know. That little beep, a small little tone, insignificant to everyone else, but to him it's a godsend.

That little beep means one thing, and one thing only. That he's alive. He's living. He's breathing. And he actually feels alive this time. He no longer feels the looming sense of his body slowly slipping away. He feels his strength returning to him, and the bitter sense of hunger is gone. Whatever they are pumping into his veins and stomach, it's some good shit.

He feels...somewhat...normal? Or as normal as possible after spending weeks bound and starving.

Axton flexed his hand just to test that it was even working, and just as it should it moved at his command. He then proceeded to test this out with the rest of his limbs. All in working order, all fingers, toes, legs and arms.

It was not possible to test them very far seeing as the cold metal restraints were doing an excellent job of holding him down, but the small action brought a grin to his lips. It was a small one, only there for a hint of a moment and then it was gone. Like a ghost, vanishing as quickly as it had shown itself.

These new accommodations roused all sorts of new questions and worries. Why was he here? What was here? Obviously it was some type of hospital or medical setup. But why would they throw him on death row for weeks and then drag him back from the brim of death? Maybe it was some sort of prolonged torture. That seemed like a very Hyperion thing to do. Let a poor soul slip to the door of death, then bring them back only to ensure a longer, crueler form of torturous means.

Axton perks up at the sound of footsteps approaching. If only he could fucking lift his head. He grunts angrily. Suddenly a shadow looms over him, two others following. They are wearing heavy robotic looking masks of some sort, and long white coats. One of them leans over Axton's body. The mask he wears is splattered with blood, as is the white coat. Not a promising sign. Axton frowns, his brows knitting together in a displeased fashion.

The man reaches down with a gloved hand and pries open one of Axton's eyes, shining a small handheld light into it, then does the same to the other. Axton blinks profusely and winces away. The man then forces Axton's mouth open with a small metal device, obviously careful to avoiding putting his fingers inside. I guess someone told him I bit the fuck out of his buddy...Axton thinks to himself.