Boyfriend to Death fan stories

Strade~❤️My Demented Captor

The nightmare started when I accomplished the one action I had done everyday for my whole entire life; I woke up.

Awaking in the dimly lit, musty, concrete basement, I blinked a few times to regain my composure. What happened? I can't remember a single thing. I honestly do not even remember my name. Thrashing my head around vigorously, pulling on the ropes constraining my hands to a beam behind me, I try to observe as much about my new enclosure as possible. In my efforts, I came to realize two things:
1-There were multiple power tools lying on a bench in front of me, spilling out of the drawers as well. Some of the tools looked rusted while others were practically brand new. My captor seems like a collector.
2-My mouth began to taste metallic.

I looked down at myself. My clothing was torn and tattered, cuts running along my legs and abdomen with deep, dark blood pouring out of them. I licked my lower lip and was greeted with the similar overwhelming taste flooding my mouth. I did not have to look in a mirror to know my face was also cut up. Pain began to overtake my senses, feeling bruised, broken, abused, and...used.

I know exactly where I am now. This is Hell.

The door at the top of the stairs just out of my view opened, light pouring down into the basement. I got nervous, holding my breath and closing my eyes tightly. I did not know exactly what to expect, but I did know that what awaited me would be unpleasant.

I heard the patting of paws and nails making their way down the stairs. I opened one eye ever so slightly, and I was greeted with the sight of a younger looking boy—no, that's not right. This was not a boy, he was not human. He had fluffy ears pointed up from matted orange hair. A long, luscious looking tail followed behind him, and he had paws for feet. Yet strangely, he had human looking hands with long fingers and nails. There was only one more feature about the boy that seemed odd; he had on a huge metal collar with a lit up red button. It was glowing brightly in the darkness of the cellar.

He was holding a metal tray in his hands with different liquids and small tools. There seemed to be pliers, scissors, and a screwdriver thrown haphazardly onto it. Nervously, I looked fully up at the creature. He spotted me, and slowly his eyes opened wide, peering down at me as though they had seen a ghost. His eyes contained a similar level of fear I'm sure mine did, possibly even more.

"Oh, you're still alive..." the voice trailed off. The creature spoke very masculinely and deep, although he looked small and frail like a small child. He was likely very malnourished. "...I'm sorry. It would have been better if you had died in your sleep."

"What do you mean? Can you tell me what is going on? I don't remember anything." I spoke cautiously. The poor fox-boy had scars all over his body and seemed more abused than I did. He was shaking, and I knew one wrong move would make him run off back upstairs.

"You...don't remember? That may be a good thing honestly. Your brain probably wouldn't be able to process what had happened to you." He set the tray down and held out a jar of liquid to me. "It's just water, you should drink it. You'll need as much strength as you can get..."

"Oh, thank you. That is very kind. I am a little tied up though..." I responded, jiggling my hands up and down in their confinement. He crouched down to me, holding the jar to my lips and tilting it down towards me, helping me drink. He smiled at me softly before the door opened yet again, a booming voice singing maniacally. The fox-boy nearly threw the jar, scrambling to put it back on the tray and stand up quickly. He began walking away from me, leaving me to feel lonely and afraid yet again.

The steps made loud thunking noises with every step the abomination took. While the descending figure was still far out of sight, their presence demanded respect in this room. The boy jumped with every step they took before lowering his body to the floor and pressing his sweat-glistened forehead against the concrete, bowing deeply while whimpering softly. I lowered my head slightly, glaring upwards towards the direction the God-awful sounds were coming from. About halfway down the steps, they started humming before laughing softly to themselves.

I felt sick.

"Ich werde das hier auskosten~❤️." The beast sang to himself. Something about how happy he sounded was terrifying. He jumped down the remaining steps and into my peripheral vision. He looked over at me with his brown and demented eyes. He grinned widely at me, his white teeth practically beaming. He looked so ordinary and so happy, it wouldn't surprise me if I had trusted this man and got lured into some trap of his.

"Good morning! You look kinda down. Is something bothering you?" He asked me, seeming genuinely concerned. I looked up at him, confused, while he just smiled more and tilted his head questioningly. He then snapped his fingers and seemed to realize something. "Ah, of course! You must be hungry! Here you go!❤️" He went to the cabinets and pulled out granola bar, tossing it towards me and letting it hit me in the face. He then laughs before picking it up, peeling it open, and shoving it towards my face.

I glared up at him slightly. "...No thank you." I grunted out. "Really? Well, suit yourself. Ren, would you like this then?" The boy's face lit up, running towards him. "Yes, thank you Strade!" The fox known as "Ren" crouched down while the man called "Strade" pet the top of his head, gently pushing the bar into his mouth. Ren happily chewed on the granola, happily licking his lips after finishing it. He stared up at Strade with love in his eyes. That kid has a serious case of Stockholm syndrome.

Strade turned and looked towards me before walking to his work bench. He began digging through tools, humming happily.

"Ren, my little fox, I believe you should leave. Our new friend and I are about to have some fun!❤️" Ren looked over at me, smiling comfortingly and nervously before running upstairs. After Ren left, I glared at Strade's back, wrestling with my constraints and pulling on them tightly. Strade turned back towards me with his hands behind his back. I looked at him cautiously.

"My dear friend, you get to decide everything that happens to you now." He lifted up his right hand, admiring the hammer it contained before lifting his left hand, looking at the power drill with similar admiration. "Now, both of these tools are magnificent in their own special ways, so you really can not go wrong. Which would you like me to use?"

"I'm guessing that neither isn't an option." I spat out at my captor. He looked at me, his eyes getting darker while a demonic smile came across his face. "No, it isn't. And if you cannot choose, I will simply be forced to use both on you." I swallowed hard, bringing my knees up to my chest.

"Okay...I choose the drill." I whispered out. "Oh, great choice my friend! We will have so much fun~❤️"