Meat and Fluids (JTHM Fanfiction) (Nny x Me)

Chapter 4

Fear is but a state of mind.

(I drew this before realizing that I should have made it a metal chair... Plus wood texture looks cooler)

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(Nny's POV)

The gag was pulled tight. I couldn't move my jaw, nor stick my tongue out. Saliva pooled out of my mouth with me unable to to swallow it. It's such an odd feeling to not be able to swallow... Or move your tongue at all for that matter. I felt like my tongue was jammed into the back of my throat, like a thick slug or moisture with no other purpose than to try and choke me. I always wondered what this felt like.

Roy continued to tap his fingers on his bleeding lip, trying to stop the slowly slowing blood flow. I really wish I had been able to bite through it. His face would be so much prettier painted in the bright red that had been dripping down his chin just minutes before. Bright red.

Red, red, RED. The light on the camera turned red before he walked over. Lip no longer bleeding, but now a brilliant pink and intensely inflamed.

He walked over to my side, facing the camera... And put his hand on my head.

I whipped my head back and forth, to the sides, anything to get him to stop touching me, I didn't like touches, being touched, I wasn't touchy! His hand gripped my hair again, somehow tighter than before.

(Roy's POV)

He wouldn't stop moving, so I pulled at the hair at the top of his head, trying to give him some sign to stop, he was on camera now. Not that it was that important, it wasn't live, I could always cut out parts of it, but choppy videos never looked go on the site.

And I was determined to make him obedient.

Normally my captives started to listen as soon as they realized there was no escape. And those who didn't realize this... well I normally wasn't stuck with them for more than a few hours.

With my head on his hair, his head still jerked away, I took my other hand and put it under his jaw, lifting his head to the camera. His shoulders still moved, trying to get his wrists free, but the rest of him froze. His body as tense as a loaded gun, as if he at all got loose it would be the equivalent to turning the safety off. I just hope he didn't know how to untie a constrictor knot.

With as much control as he gave me, which wasn't much, the difficult bastard, I went on with my routine. Moving his face left to right for the camera to see, an inspection so they knew everything is as it should be, and everyone are who they should be. Seriously, it gets really messy when you get the wrong person; that lady was NOT happy with me, neither was the client, I ended up getting shot... Messy.

He did nothing but growl and drool, unable to swallow right with the gag in his mouth. He made noises of displeasure with every move I forced him to make, groaning out any noise he could make. Even screaming at one point as I finally pulled out both the needles in his arm. It hurt, sure, but he overreacted, a scream wasn't necessary.

I let go of his hair, and he immediately went back to moving, trying to get out. The leather wouldn't fray, but any more friction like this might make it start to stretch...

"Good boy," now I'm just pissing him off for the fun of it. I shouldn't be playing with fire this high, but I'm already bound to be burned, why stop now? I shut off the camera, intending on editing and sending it by the end of tonight. He'll be a great addition to my collection videos.

I took down the camera from the tripod and started collecting anything else in the all room, as well as finally removing the gag. He took a moment to gasp at the air and swallow down any spit that was almost pouring down his chin. "Well you have a great night. I'll see you in the morning, Nny."

"Don't... don't call me that..." he panted out, wrists tugging at there restraints.

I had to pause for a moment, "I thought that's what you wanted me to call you." It was more of a statement than a question.

"You, vile, pathetic, inbred, no longer have the pleasure of using my friendly 'nickname'." He said 'nickname' with almost a 'tick' to his phrasing. He was nothing but what I could describe as rabid; just seething with pure rage and an intent on destruction.

"... Goodnight, Johnny."

(Nny's POV)

He shut off the light, the switch being in the other side of the door as he closed it. Locks, LOCKS... I heard three of them click shut, wait no, there's four.

I need to get out of here.

(Oh really, you didn't think that was obvious already?)

Shut up, I know what I'm doing!

(You don't though, you're gonna die here, and it's your own fault. Careless and stupid, you couldn't see a threat right in front of you-)

SHUT UP! He wasn't a threat, still isn't a treat, pathetic, couldn't kill anything, even if his life depended on it.

(Let's test that theory, but first, you need to GET OUT!)

I twisted my wrists in their bindings, too tight to slip out on their own, skin too sticky, sweaty. My legs wouldn't budge either, ankles the same way. The only loose material was around my waist, but that wasn't exactly helpful for escaping.

I felt for knots, under the chair, feeling one just out of reach. I pulled a little harder in that direction, trying to get it in my grip, only succeeding in cutting my hand with the sudden jerk.

(Okay, that's not working... is there any way for you to break your thumb?)

"How would that help?" I spoke aloud to the darkness. This was not one of the DoughBoys, I was sure of it, they were at home... but it sure sounded like it...

NailBunny even said so, there not in my head anymore, they have their own bodies, they have their own control, I never bought those statues did I, no, no. They had their own bodies, they MADE their own bodies. Was this a new one, a new voice? I didn't get many new ones-

(You think too loud!)

"Doughboy?"

(Yeah, yeah, it's me...)

"But you're at home... aren't you?"

(Oh, I am, I am, but I needed to talk to you... I'm not in your head, just think of this like ah... like aaahh... Phone call! A phone call in the dark, it only works in the dark, yes!)

"A phone call? To help me get back home?"

(Exactly...)

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I'm going off the idea that everything in JTHM is real, and nothing is in Johnny's head (anymore). Through most of the comic, he seems like a bipolar schizophrenic, but further into the chapters even the reader has a hard time understanding what counts as reality. Johnny still has a hard time telling the difference, but in this world and that, everything is real, and everything is either felt or see-able by everyone, not just Nny. 

So, the doughboys are real, and are able to talk to him, but he can choose not to listen to them.