Hey y'all, here's a little bonus scene I've written up and wanted to throw to you in between. It takes place during the first week Foggy has Matt, when they're still at his family's house and he has just bought him the new collar. I thought we could do with a Matt POV scene of him dealing with the thing when he puts it on for the first time the next morning. Have fun :p
Xxx
After breakfast, Matt steps out of the shower (the warm shower, that he has all to himself, he still has trouble processing that) and, naked, steps over to his pile of clothes for the day. Underwear on top, crisp, new jeans from amazon and a shirt from underneath, black and light blue respectively, according to what Foggy had said. They don’t fit exactly – the drawback of online shopping, which is why they’re heading to the mall today, again – but better than the clothes of Foggy did. Matt still feels almost alien to be dressed, for what seems like forever, in new clothes, that had been bought for him.
It feels almost like being a person again.
Except for…
Matt exhales, deeply, and then reaches out for the last item on the tumble dryer he had stacked his clothes on before taking his morning shower. His hand closes around the new, red leather collar.
(“Okay, let’s take the bandage off for tonight,” Foggy had said, yesterday evening after he had given Matt his new collar, “Then your neck has one night to completely heal and get some fresh air and then you should be able to start wearing this one tomorrow, and we can leave the house. Sound good?” he’d asked, even if amending it with what sounded like a small grimace. “I mean, not good, but…bearable?”
“Yes, Foggy,” Matt had said, still feeling a bit dazed. He had fallen asleep that night, neck bare for the first time in years, and still run his fingers over the new collar in the darkness, the thing that would likely make him truly Foggy’s.
He had almost wished Foggy would put it on him already just to get it over with.)
To Matt’s surprise, Foggy hadn’t put it on him.
Instead, he’d been handed it in the morning again, together with the new clothes that had arrived in the mail.
“Here,” Foggy had said, “Just, uh. Y’know. Try it on, see whether it fits under your shirt and is comfortable and all. Of course, you don’t have to wear it in the house if you don’t want to. Just. Whatever is easier for you, okay?”
“Oh. Yes, Foggy,” Matt had replied, slightly dumbfounded as he took it and the clothes, before being directed to the bathroom again.
He had never met an owner who didn’t enjoy putting a collar on their pets. (And they do, often tightening them extra fast for the first few days, just to drive it home. You are owned by me now.)
Matt’s lips thin.
Collars are degrading. Dehumanizing. Humiliating. Matt has also never forgotten the day the first one had been locked around his neck and he can’t even remember if he ever went more than the minute it took for them to exchange one collar for another without one, except for last night. Hands, touching his throat, his neck, and twisting keys, turning them in locks, making it tight enough to choke him…Matt takes another deep breath, fist closed tightly around the new collar, crushing the leather against his skin.
But it’s softly yielding leather, and even though it’s a collar, it’s…different.
He had never been able to take a collar off by himself, for instance. Collars are locked by nature, whether they’re heavy padlocks or dainty little electronic chip-locks. This one is the latter, it thickens both at the front where he knows Foggy has put his ID chip into the holding space, the thing not much bigger than a micro SIM card, and at the back, where there’s a small metal bit that likely will only open when Foggy puts the electronic chip key he’s probably been given near the chip at the front. Matt still couldn’t open this collar if he wanted to.
But it’s so wide that Matt doesn’t even need to. He lifts it, once again thinking that he could probably double it up into a figure eight and still pull it over his head, and then takes a breath and lets it fall around his neck, touching the back over his shirt collar and coming to lay over his front, low enough to easily hang a hand’s width below his collarbones.
He’s now officially collared as Foggy’s and he doesn’t feel like he’s choking. Now there’s a first.
On impulse, Matt grabs the leather band and proceeds to stuff it quickly inside his shirt, settling it between the fabric and his bare skin. He can’t see his image in the mirror, so he resorts to patting, and realizes that yes, Foggy’s idea should work, the ridges the collar makes underneath the shirt are so fine and irregular he’s pretty sure they shouldn’t stand out.
And it also..doesn’t even feel that bad. Collars are supposed to be humiliating, and to make you feel your place. This one…it isn’t physically uncomfortable, and while Matt still doesn’t like the fact that he has to wear it, it takes a lot of the shame away if nobody can see it. He could almost live with this.
(Though he still has no idea why, or what the motives are behind this. Yesterday, at the idea of even being able to spend a single hour outside without that visible brand around his neck, had sounded so overwhelming, pitching himself onto his knees in front of Foggy had been pretty much all he could do. Now, in the light of day, he was almost a bit embarrassed to have acted like this, giving in to his conditioning so easily, but, still. The idea of going out pretending to be a free man makes his stomach churn with both exhilaration and nerves. He prays Foggy still means it.)
When Matt steps out in his new clothes and Foggy’s heart skips a beat for a moment, before he stammers, “Uh, oh…wow. Looking good there. Are you wearing the collar right now? Because if you are, I can’t tell, so that’s good,” Matt almost can’t help but smile as he says
“Yes, Foggy, I am. I…it’s much more comfortable than my old one. Thank you,” and he knows he sounds like the most pathetic, brainwashed pet ever, but he can’t help but mean it.
(He also doesn’t take it off when they get home, still dazed by how the day had gone, how people had talked to him, how Foggy had joked with him, how…he had almost felt human again, the hidden collar briefly just a thin cord of leather around his neck, as meaningless as a piece of jewellery.
Nothing he wants to claw off his skin as soon as they’re back home and he is no longer legally required to wear it, anyway.
And he tells himself it is easier that way, that way he can’t lose or forget it, and he can almost manage to convince himself that it doesn’t mean he doesn’t particularly mind wearing Foggy’s collar when it’s just the two of them.)
FILL: Foggy gets Matt as college graduation present [6c/?]
Xxx
After breakfast, Matt steps out of the shower (the warm shower, that he has all to himself, he still has trouble processing that) and, naked, steps over to his pile of clothes for the day. Underwear on top, crisp, new jeans from amazon and a shirt from underneath, black and light blue respectively, according to what Foggy had said. They don’t fit exactly – the drawback of online shopping, which is why they’re heading to the mall today, again – but better than the clothes of Foggy did. Matt still feels almost alien to be dressed, for what seems like forever, in new clothes, that had been bought for him.
It feels almost like being a person again.
Except for…
Matt exhales, deeply, and then reaches out for the last item on the tumble dryer he had stacked his clothes on before taking his morning shower. His hand closes around the new, red leather collar.
(“Okay, let’s take the bandage off for tonight,” Foggy had said, yesterday evening after he had given Matt his new collar, “Then your neck has one night to completely heal and get some fresh air and then you should be able to start wearing this one tomorrow, and we can leave the house. Sound good?” he’d asked, even if amending it with what sounded like a small grimace. “I mean, not good, but…bearable?”
“Yes, Foggy,” Matt had said, still feeling a bit dazed. He had fallen asleep that night, neck bare for the first time in years, and still run his fingers over the new collar in the darkness, the thing that would likely make him truly Foggy’s.
He had almost wished Foggy would put it on him already just to get it over with.)
To Matt’s surprise, Foggy hadn’t put it on him.
Instead, he’d been handed it in the morning again, together with the new clothes that had arrived in the mail.
“Here,” Foggy had said, “Just, uh. Y’know. Try it on, see whether it fits under your shirt and is comfortable and all. Of course, you don’t have to wear it in the house if you don’t want to. Just. Whatever is easier for you, okay?”
“Oh. Yes, Foggy,” Matt had replied, slightly dumbfounded as he took it and the clothes, before being directed to the bathroom again.
He had never met an owner who didn’t enjoy putting a collar on their pets. (And they do, often tightening them extra fast for the first few days, just to drive it home. You are owned by me now.)
Matt’s lips thin.
Collars are degrading. Dehumanizing. Humiliating. Matt has also never forgotten the day the first one had been locked around his neck and he can’t even remember if he ever went more than the minute it took for them to exchange one collar for another without one, except for last night. Hands, touching his throat, his neck, and twisting keys, turning them in locks, making it tight enough to choke him…Matt takes another deep breath, fist closed tightly around the new collar, crushing the leather against his skin.
But it’s softly yielding leather, and even though it’s a collar, it’s…different.
He had never been able to take a collar off by himself, for instance. Collars are locked by nature, whether they’re heavy padlocks or dainty little electronic chip-locks. This one is the latter, it thickens both at the front where he knows Foggy has put his ID chip into the holding space, the thing not much bigger than a micro SIM card, and at the back, where there’s a small metal bit that likely will only open when Foggy puts the electronic chip key he’s probably been given near the chip at the front. Matt still couldn’t open this collar if he wanted to.
But it’s so wide that Matt doesn’t even need to. He lifts it, once again thinking that he could probably double it up into a figure eight and still pull it over his head, and then takes a breath and lets it fall around his neck, touching the back over his shirt collar and coming to lay over his front, low enough to easily hang a hand’s width below his collarbones.
He’s now officially collared as Foggy’s and he doesn’t feel like he’s choking. Now there’s a first.
On impulse, Matt grabs the leather band and proceeds to stuff it quickly inside his shirt, settling it between the fabric and his bare skin. He can’t see his image in the mirror, so he resorts to patting, and realizes that yes, Foggy’s idea should work, the ridges the collar makes underneath the shirt are so fine and irregular he’s pretty sure they shouldn’t stand out.
And it also..doesn’t even feel that bad. Collars are supposed to be humiliating, and to make you feel your place. This one…it isn’t physically uncomfortable, and while Matt still doesn’t like the fact that he has to wear it, it takes a lot of the shame away if nobody can see it. He could almost live with this.
(Though he still has no idea why, or what the motives are behind this. Yesterday, at the idea of even being able to spend a single hour outside without that visible brand around his neck, had sounded so overwhelming, pitching himself onto his knees in front of Foggy had been pretty much all he could do. Now, in the light of day, he was almost a bit embarrassed to have acted like this, giving in to his conditioning so easily, but, still. The idea of going out pretending to be a free man makes his stomach churn with both exhilaration and nerves. He prays Foggy still means it.)
When Matt steps out in his new clothes and Foggy’s heart skips a beat for a moment, before he stammers, “Uh, oh…wow. Looking good there. Are you wearing the collar right now? Because if you are, I can’t tell, so that’s good,” Matt almost can’t help but smile as he says
“Yes, Foggy, I am. I…it’s much more comfortable than my old one. Thank you,” and he knows he sounds like the most pathetic, brainwashed pet ever, but he can’t help but mean it.
(He also doesn’t take it off when they get home, still dazed by how the day had gone, how people had talked to him, how Foggy had joked with him, how…he had almost felt human again, the hidden collar briefly just a thin cord of leather around his neck, as meaningless as a piece of jewellery.
Nothing he wants to claw off his skin as soon as they’re back home and he is no longer legally required to wear it, anyway.
And he tells himself it is easier that way, that way he can’t lose or forget it, and he can almost manage to convince himself that it doesn’t mean he doesn’t particularly mind wearing Foggy’s collar when it’s just the two of them.)
xxx