( Completed ) Pet play | Axton X handsome Jack

Chapter 30: Untouchable

Untouchable

Eyes come open nice and slow, gentle pine hue meeting with dull light. Heavy lashes kiss at the sharps of his cheekbones as he blinks several times, the motion becoming easier with each instance. His vision is slightly blurred, like everything around him is some sort of charcoal drawing that someone had run their hands over. Everything is soft in the low light, and gentle, like coming up for air after being underwater for too long. He slowly takes air into his lungs. It feels good, it feels right.

Only as he comes back into more vivid consciousness does he realize everything around him just seems to have this....glow. A faded magenta glow that renders everything soft purple and gorgeous. Axton basks in the wonder of it for a moment, pupils trying hard to gain focus on the things around him.

Where is he?

The question lingers in the air like some dirty secret.

Axton pushes his eyebrows together slowly, trying to assess all that surrounds him, trying to understand what this place is...

He attempts to bring his fingers to his face, simply wanting to touch, to feel that he is actually real, but he finds his arm rendered useless. Axton looks to his side, vision finally clear and focused. A slow, shaky breath expels from his lungs as he looks over himself.

There are tubes, big, shiny tubing connecting to every piece of him like snakes. His arms are caged within restraints as are his legs. Wires everywhere, attaching to every inch of him. It is then that he finds the source of the glow. It's the tubing, big clear tubes attached to his back, jutting from him, glistening with bright purple liquid. His heart begins to thrum in his chest as he tries to move again, but finds that all movement is stolen from him. He looks down frantically.

He's floating. Well, somewhat, held some five feet from the ground by the twisting tubes around him. He looks to the ceiling, hope fading quickly from his form. The glistening tubes run up from him, all meeting back within massive vats overhead, leading to a great machine that hisses and groans as the liquid travels from it, down to Axton.

It's pumping liquid into him. The tubes are a sort of feeding mechanism.

Axton feels a warm, flooding sensation as the tubes channel the liquid into him. It isn't painful, just...familiar. Somehow it feels like he's been through this before and that alone has him worried beyond all reason.

The room around him is wide and vast, full of silver and black machines, blinking with thousands of buttons and meters. The subtle hum of monitors and machines kisses his ears in a way that feels comforting. He doesn't know why everything feels so hauntingly familiar even as he views it for the very first time. It's all so confusing and overbearing. As his pulse raises, so does the constant beep of the big computer before him, the little vital sign monitors spiking quickly. As panic sets in, alarms start to sound and the shrill, unpleasant sound frightens Axton. He looks around in fear. He has no idea where he is, or...what he is. He searches over himself, and he looks to be all intact, all legs and arms accounted for even as they are strapped to the big hanging machine. But he doesn't...feel...like himself. Something is different. Something is off. Axton's eyes swim down his naked form. He is more pale than he remembers, but not any thinner, all his muscle mass seemingly still there. The he sees them. For the first time.

The markings.

Blue and sharp, scattered like scars down over his left shoulder, his arm, his torso, and half his leg. They were vibrant, seeming to glisten as the liquid was pumped into him. Like they were feeding off of the substance hungrily. Axton breathed out shakily.

What were those?

He wanted so badly to remember. He'd do anything to remember, his brain digging, rattling, trying in vain to dig up the buried memories. But it all felt faded. Like a childhood dream that had been withered by the years, to the point in which he wasn't even sure if it were real or not. There were pieces, floating scattered through his mind. Flashes of voices, of trembling hands on him, of screaming.