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**A Comforting Companion

By: VeronicaFoxx

For: Technophile91**

"Name," the Renamon slaver demanded, not even looking up from the clipboard she held in her hand while she waited for the answer.

The captive spat, the glob of fluid flying through the air to splat against the Renamon's forehead before dripping down her nose. With a sigh, she wiped it off, then jabbed the offender with an electric prod. The male canid dropped to the ground, spasming and twitching.

"This one looks like he's got all of his parts, but he needs some training. Haul him over to labor recruitment."

The captive was unclipped from the lead that strung all of their new slaves together by the neck, and a pair of guards dragged him away. It was always the same. No matter how many demonstrations were given, there was always at least one idiot who insisted on being a jackass. The Renamon sighed and stepped down the line to the next slave, a Gatomon, and took down the necessary information for their records. A quick examination showed the female to be of a more fragile type, patched a few times over with several scavenged parts. There was no point in keeping her around, despite her cowed attitude. Any kind of difficult labor would break those shoddy repairs and render her useless.

"Recycling," the slave mistress declared, ignoring the screams as the 'mon was dragged away. Flipping the page on her clipboard, she stepped forward once more.

It was a male rat, one skilled in repair according to what the slave catchers had reported, but if that Gatomon was any example, his work was well below par. He looked pretty well up to snuff himself, though, with barely any of his exterior showing damage. He had even modified himself with extra processing power on an external mount, which showed some talent at least. She marked off further details before directing him towards the machine shop. Their own mechanists could evaluate his skills and determine if he was worth further training.

And that was the last one, or so she thought. One of the guards caught her attention and directed it towards a final captive, one not bound or restrained in any way.

"What's this?" she asked. "A recruit?"

"Uh, no, this one asked us to take her. Apparently she was being used for entertainment and parts by the rest of the settlement. She let us in, which is why we were able to get such a big haul this time."

"Interesting..."

The Renamon approached the oddball captive with an appraising eye. Though sturdily enough built, the white-furred Vulpix was a bit shorter than the average, stocky, probably an office assistant type, meant to be able to handle fetching small supplies for its owner. It was missing its right arm, which helped explain the Gatomon's mismatched parts. One of its crystal blue eyes was also missing, leaving an empty socket gaping. The Renamon fingered the patch that covered her own eye, self-conscious about the lack. Its fur was stained and dirty, matted in some places and scraped free in others, evidence of hard use, and the rubberized pads on its hands and paws were gashed and torn, a few of them nearly gone entirely.

"So, what the hell use are you to us aside from the same old thing?"

The Vulpix immediately dropped to its knees before her, peering up at her with a begging look on its face. "Please, Mistress, any use you put me to will be better than where I was. Even if you kill me, it will be better."

"Even if I kill you?" The Renamon was intrigued. "How would that be better?"

"They had me running on a wheel to power the generator all day, with barely a trickle charge to keep me going. They took my arm. They took my eye. They pulled out my frost generator. They had me standing watch all night, when they weren't using me for other things. Sometimes they would let me run out of charge and forget to plug me up for days at a time, and they'd do even worse things to me once they remembered to punish my laziness.

"Please, Mistress, your group seems to be well organized, and I can work hard. I promise, whatever you want me to do, I'll do it. Anything at all."

The slave mistress pondered it for a moment before beckoning the Vulpix to follow, taking her back to the converted dollhouse that she called her own. It was one of the largest abodes in the settlement, but she earned her keep. Only the other leaders of their group could claim finer housing. Once inside, the Vulpix settled to her knees once more, hand resting a top her knees, hopeful and silently pleading.

"What if I want you for entertainment purposes?" the Renamon inquired, truly curious as to the response.

"If that is what you want of me, I'll do my best to please you."

Dragging over a box of "toys" and other fun implements, the mistress extracted a long rod that ended in a stylized version of her head. "Well, if you're going to be my personal plaything, then we'd better make sure everyone knows who you belong to. Present yourself to me."

Without missing a beat, the vulpix leaned back and thrust her hips forward, spreading her knees and supporting herself with her single arm. The Renamon grinned; she hadn't expected such ready obedience, but the Vulpix didn't so much as flinch or tremble when the flick of a switch brought the end of the rod to a glowing cherry red. Nor did she pull back or let out more than a hiss when the heated metal was pressed to her synthetic flesh. Fur sizzled and plastic bubbled, melting into a welt that marked her clearly, the nose tip of the brand sizzling away the pleasure sensors at the top of her cleft with the head and ears crossing up over her stomach.

"I'm impressed," the Renamon admitted. "I haven't come across a slave yet that didn't flinch from a branding."

"I've felt worse pain, Mistress," the vulpix admitted, panting slightly as she processed the sensations and fought them off.

"Then I think you can take a bit more. Being my pet won't be a very demanding position, at least not in the sense of labor. You have some parts that you won't be needing, and we can always use replacements."

"Yes, Mistress... Take whatever you want."

The Renamon kept an eye on the smaller 'mon while she pulled out a tool kit and extracted the ones she would be needing. She instructed the Vulpix to hold her eyelid open, a pair of pliers latching onto the baby blue marble and yanking it free. That would serve as a replacement for her own, though a little lacquer would be needed to darken the white outside of the blue. Her vanity demanded a precise match to her own remaining eye. The Vulpix merely clenched her teeth and pulled back against the pliers to assist ripping the orb free.

Next came an incision at the shoulder of her remaining arm, peeling back the rubbery synthetic skin and muscle to reveal the joint. A screwdriver served to pop the limb free of its socket, and a quick application of solder and adhesive sealed off the wound. It could be more properly patched later. The legs followed, also unnecessary, then the voicebox and the audio pickups from inside the Vulpix's ears. The Renamon stared down at her new pet, a limbless torso, blind and deaf, completely useless for anything except entertainment and comfort.

She piled the detached limbs in a corner and carried her plaything over to her bed, slipping into it and snuggling the Vulpix against her stomach like a pillow, hugging it tightly. She petted it, scratching behind its ears and stroking along its stomach, whispering the things she could never say in public to the deaf toy, letting out all the worries and weights that she carried, knowing that the Vulpix could never tell another soul.

The End