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“I love you, baby.”
Louis makes a noise of agreement into Harry’s shoulder. He’s being hugged too tight for much else.
“I love you so much and I’ll be back so soon.”
“Hazz—“ Louis struggles to separate them. “Babe. I love you.” He gets a kiss on the lips. “But you have to go—“
“I swear I wont be gone long—“
“Shove off,” Louis complains, physically pushing him away. “Go perform your fancy European concerts already. It’ll only be a week.”
Harry gives him the sort of puppy eyes that someone without an ounce of hybrid blood in their body should not be able to give. “Okay,” he says, sounding pathetic. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” Louis agrees. “Now leave before I make them throw you out.”
Hybrid travel visas are much stricter than laws for human travel. About twenty more hoops to jump through, and five times the cost. Louis’ proud, so proud of Harry going off on his first big tour, but he’s realistic, too. They would see barely a dime of that money if they had to spend on a hybrid EU visa.
So, he’s spending ten days at Knot’s Farms, one of the higher rated hybrid kennel agencies.
The man behind the desk gives them sympathetic looks as Louis hugs Harry and then pushes him toward the door. The front desk area is cute, decorated in a farm boutique look, with a corner market of freshly picked berries (the farm does double as a working farm) and a cold case of Knot’s Farms’ infamously good raw milk.
“Go on,” Louis says as he pushes Harry out the door. “I love you, make me proud, come back soon, I’ll miss you.”
When Harry is finally gone with one more hug and a tug on Louis tail, Louis turns back to the desk. “So sorry about that,” he says. “First time apart since we got engaged.”
The man nods understandingly. “I see a lot of that,” he says. “Don’t worry, though, the time here just flies by.” He shuffles Louis’ paperwork into a stack. “Looks like everything’s in order for you, Louis. You can call me Zayn, I’m on call here most days. Now if you’d like to follow me, I can show you where you’ll be staying.”
Louis does, following him through the door to a warmly lit hallway. Zayn gives a spiel that Louis’ already heard from their website, about how the farm out back is free for them to roam as they’d like, how meals are served through room service, how to get ahold of any staff member in the building at any time, what games and books are provided, and so on. Louis’ properly zoned out by the time he gets to the end. He gives Louis a keycard and motions for him to open the room Zayn’s led them to, and Louis does, opening the door inward into a luxurious looking hotel-style suite.
“And if you need any relief or are feeling a little fuzzy, this button at the base of the phone is what you need to press,” Zayn says. Louis zones back in just in time for that bit, and feels weird about it.
“Is feeling a little fuzzy something hybrids here often feel?” he asks, concerned.
Zayn shakes his head. “Only occasionally,” he says. “When this is someone’s first time, they often find that they can get a bit touch starved or homesick without their partners around. We just want to preempt you feeling any worse, nip those sensations in the bud as fast as we can, you know?”
“Oh sure,” Louis nods. “Of course.”
“Now, like I said, you can come see me at the desk for any reason, or call on the phone here. Tea is served starting at five, so put in your order any time around then. Do you have any questions?”
Louis shakes his head, already eyeing the playstation under the television. “I can take it from here,” he says. “Got ten days to waste, might as well dive in.”
“That’s the spirit,” Zayn says. “Lovely to meet you, Louis.”
“You too,” Louis says, watching Zayn see himself out. He goes for the remote as soon as the door closes. Considers texting Harry a picture of the setup. It’s basic, but it’ll work.
The day doesn’t fly by, but with the help of a library of about two hundred games, Louis manages to make the time go. He orders food at six; pasta with red sauce and a side of broccoli so if Harry calls, Louis can tell him to stop worrying about his vegetable intake.
The internet here is gloriously fast and he finds the XBox and Switch inside the entertainment centre, so the next time he looks at his watch it’s near midnight. Maybe tomorrow he’ll go actually explore the grounds a bit.
—
The next day Louis wakes up a with a feeling of heaviness. Not tired exactly; he got a good night’s sleep and is raring to maybe go steal some blueberries off the vine. Or bush. He’s a city hybrid, so sue him. But no, more heavy as in his arms literally feel sort of… heavy.
It’s odd. He chalks it up to touch starvation, even though Harry was literally crushing him with love less than 20 hours ago.
He orders an omelette and bacon for breakfast, and switches back on the XBox while he waits for it to be delivered. He answers about fifty missed messages from Harry, sends a handful of selfies, including a closeup of his ears because he knows Harry likes to pet those when he’s getting nervous for a show, and then chides him for using all their international data. Harry sends an apologetic emoji and a blurry photo of his stage setup. Louis makes him promise to only text if it’s important because he wants them to not be paying out the nose, especially with the cost of this place he’s staying in.
The omelette is delicious though, so maybe the cost is worth it.
Louis doesn’t end up going out to the farm that morning, because after the omelette and bacon he goes down a rabbit hole of comparing the plots of The Last of Us videogame and television show, and then ends up reading about twenty pages of Reddit threads. He barely leaves his bed except to piss and get the door for lunch (cheese toastie and tea).
He realises, after lunch, that he’s been staring off into space for a good hour or so. His body feels heavy and slow as if he’s just eaten a Christmas dinner. He feels… fuzzy.
Oh, this must be a touch starved thing… right? Didn’t Zayn say… something. About feeling fuzzy?
Louis rolls over and looks at the phone. The big red button at the bottom of the panel feels intimidating, but this is what it’s for, right?
After a moment’s hesitation, he pushes it. A crackle springs to life from the speakerphone and Louis hears Zayn’s voice through it, “I’ll be down in just a second.”
Louis feels like he’s overreacting, like maybe he just needs to facetime Harry regardless of their data and he’ll feel right as rain. But then, he’s laying on his back on the bed and feels like standing up to even answer the door seems like more energy than he has.
A knock sounds at the door after too long, and Zayn lets himself in. Louis turns his head and sees Zayn bringing in a small tote bag branded with the Knot’s Farms logo on the side.
“Hello there,” Zayn says cheerfully. “Feeling a little under the weather?”
“Feeling a little something,” Louis mutters. He grimaces. “Is this a touch starved thing?”
“Could be,” says Zayn. “Happens to the best of us our first time away from home. I’ve just brought some things to help make you more comfortable.”
He puts the bag on the bed next to Louis and pulls out a small blister packet. “This is for nerves,” he says. “Helps with anxiety, vet-approved for all cat hybrids.” He pops out what looks like a paper-thin pink tab. “Stick your tongue out for me.”
Feeling silly, Louis does so, and Zayn places it carefully on. It fizzles and melts nearly instantly, and Louis rubs his tongue against the roof of his mouth, tasting something akin to cherry cola.
“Now while we wait for that to take effect, can you sit up for me? I’ll just take some vitals to make sure everything’s in good shape.”
Louis sort of wonders why Zayn didn’t do that bit first, but he complies, pushing himself upward with significant effort. His arms feel like lead.
Zayn nods as he watches Louis’ movements. “I can see what you mean,” he says as he brings a stethoscope up to Louis’ back. “I’ll need to bring you to the relief room to get proper care for this.”
Louis frowns. “It’s that serious?” he asks.
“Oh I wouldn’t call it serious,” Zayn says. “I absolutely don’t want you to worry! This is supposed to be a relaxing time for you! But our relief room has the proper care you need to keep you in good, healthy shape. If you’re here for ten days, and when your fiancée comes to collect you, he finds you in the middle of a touch depri spiral, he’s not going to feel like he can leave you again, and that wouldn’t be good for anyone!”
That… well, it does make sense. Louis swings his legs over the side of the bed and almost pitches forward off the bed from the momentum. He plants his feet on the floor and feels instantly dizzy, the world tilting around him.
“Whoa there,” Zayn says, steadying him with a hand to Louis’ chest. “Here, we don’t want you being a fall risk, let me help you down.”
Louis finds he can’t do much as Zayn puts a pair of strong arms around Louis’ middle, lifting him off the bed and onto his knees on the floor. He’s incredibly dizzy, his vision feeling a little blurry around the edges. His tail is limp on the floor, feeling as heavy as the rest of him.
“This will help steady you, hold on.” Zayn goes looking in the tote bag and comes up with something that looks like a number of connected black straps. Louis tilts his head, unsure what to think of it, but tilting his head makes him dizzier so he shuts his eyes.
“That’s right,” Zayn says. “It’s our job to take care of everything, don’t you even worry about it.”
Louis feels Zayn pull his leg up in front of him, so his knee is in the air. When he next opens his eyes, it’s because he feels Zayn wrap something around his leg.
Sure enough, there’s a thick black strap that’s being buckled mid-thigh to mid-calf, pulling his folded leg together. There’s a connecting strap that goes up and over his knee, with a cushioned bit right at the end.
“What the fuck,” Louis croaks out.
“Sometimes when the symptoms get too bad, it becomes difficult to stand,” Zayn says, his voice soft and reassuring. He’s probably given this speech numerous times. “We at the Farm had this piece commissioned so hybrids can walk in natural comfort.”
He’s already pulling Louis’ other leg forward and wrapping the second strap around it. Louis feels foolish, feels like he’s being treated like an invalid, but… maybe he is an invalid. Is there something seriously wrong with him?
“There we are,” Zayn says after buckling the second one closed. Now, are you feeling strong enough to walk on your hands and knees, or will you need more assistance?”
“I’m fine,” Louis says faintly. He’s not actually sure he’s fine, but this is demeaning enough already. Leaning forward, he puts his hands on the floor and tries to pull himself up onto his knees. As soon as he does so, his heavy, leaden arms buckle at the elbow and he collapses onto his face.
“Oh no,” Zayn says, rushing to help him up. “Oh dear, yes, let me get you properly set up.”
Louis’ face burns as Zayn pulls more things out of his bag.
“First, I’ll give you another one of these.” Zayn pulls out another paper thin tab, this one blue. He holds it out and Louis obediently lets him place it on his tongue. This one has more of a kick, and as it dissolves Louis senses a cotton candy sort of taste that fizzes as it goes down.
Zayn brings out more straps and immediately goes to work folding Louis’ arm back, until his hand is at his shoulder, and slipping more straps on, securing them firmly so that his arm is folded tight together and a cushion sits against his elbow. He pulls Louis’ other arm up and does the same, making quick work of it.
Louis blinks heavily, his embarrassment at the situation warring with his body’s need to try to stay upright with the world tilting in front of him. His insides feel fizzy now, as if that blue tab is still bubbling in his stomach.
“There we go, good job,” Zayn says, now pushing Louis onto his front. Louis, thankfully, catches himself, steadying on his elbows and knees, head hung low as he takes deep breaths.
“Now if you’ll just follow me,” Zayn says, standing and opening the door. “I’ll get you to the relief room.”
Louis tries to take a step, his arms and legs heavy and leaden and now trussed up in unnatural positions. It takes a bit to get the hang of it, but he doesn’t fall on his face this time. On elbows and knees he makes slow strides toward the door, concentrating on following Zayn, his mind feeling like syrup.
He doesn’t realise he’s rather stopped paying attention to anything until Zayn leans down in front of him. They’re in the hallway, so at least he’s made it outside of his room.
“Hey,” Zayn says. “I’m going to attach this just to keep you moving in the right direction, all right?”
He rocks forward on his knees and puts a loose collar around Louis’ neck. Louis is about to protest — the indignity — his ears going flat against his head, but Zayn clips a lead to it and stands up again before Louis can properly formulate the words. His mouth feels as thick as his brain, his thoughts moving like through pea soup.
Zayn tugs at the lead, the collar directing Louis forward, and Louis goes.
The walk down the hallway is slow. The consistent pulling at the lead is oddly hypnotising and Louis’ legs move almost without his own bidding.
The more they move, though, the more that fizzing feeling inside of him moves south. And further south. Until it settles in his balls, an odd tingling sensation. Every time his legs move, they brush against his balls and the tingling gets stronger, almost as if they’re getting larger between his thighs.
His cock takes an interest eventually, swelling against his thighs, his joggers doing little to keep it from getting constant if slight friction as his legs move.
Louis does not want to be going to the relief room. He would like to go back to his room, to take care of this issue in peace. He feels like he’s steps away from collapsing at any moment, though, so he wouldn’t be able to make it back there if he tried, much less deal with this growing problem.
The tugging of the lead is the only thing he can really concentrate on, as the fizzing between his legs numbs everything else, and the dizziness feels like it’s blurred every corner of his thoughts. He wants to stop and rut against the nearest piece of furniture, but this hallway is empty save for welcome mats in front of doors.
Eventually, after ages, Zayn stops at a large metal door, unlocking it with a key from his belt and pulling it open. He tugs the lead again and Louis follows in.
It’s not the sort of room Louis was expecting.
At all.
He can’t take it in all at once, his mind trying to process what he’s seeing. Everything is white and tiled and clean, but it’s also cavernously large, and the odd equipment in the room reminds him of a bar he and Harry once went to that did all their distilling on display. The large metal tankards with pipes going back and forth. The machinery here rivals that; large copper upright tanks with pipes running through them. But just to the left of everything, Louis’ eyes zero in on a number of stalls.
His eyes mostly zero in on them because that is where Zayn is pulling him to.
The walls of the stalls are tall, and each of them are closed but one near the left. That one, the door is swung wide open and Louis can see inside. There’s warm lighting hanging from one wall, and a series of tubes and metal pipes along the side that louis can’t make sense of. Oddly, the back wall is short enough that Zayn can lead him into it and then step over the other end. Louis tries to resist, tries to not enter until he learns what is going on, but he’s too weak to do more than tug back a bit. Zayn simply pulls the lead in and Louis is forced to follow or stumble onto his face and be dragged.
“There we go,” Zayn says, voice as pleasant as ever. “Good boy.” He pulls until Louis is right up against the back of the stall, and then winds the lead around a metal post inches below his face. The back wall only comes up to about where his chin is; very low. Louis looks up at Zayn and tries to get his mouth and brain to cooperate. His cock is still throbbing insistently between his legs and he takes a moment to sort of shift his hips, try to get friction, as he speaks.
“What— a stall…?”
“Good, yes,” Zayn says. “What we’re going to do now is to help you get that heavy feeling out. To do that, we’ve got top of the line machinery working here, all well tested, that will get you up to snuff in no time.”
“I don’t think—” Louis manages, but he’s cut off.
“You won’t have to,” Zayn says. “That’s the beauty of it.”
He squats down so that they’re face to face and lifts something up from just behind the wall. “This will help you adjust,” he says. “And I think you’ll find you won’t be asking any more questions afterward.”
With that, he pulls up from behind the wall a thick plastic tube with straps about three inches down. Louis gets out a “No—” before it’s cut off into a “Ngh—” and Zayn feeds the tube into his mouth, immediately wrapping the straps around the back of his head and securing them.
Louis mouth stretches uncomfortably around it, and he immediately begins to drool as a string of unintelligible “Nghhhuh” sorts of noises fall from his lips.
“You’ll grow used to it very fast,” Zayn says. “Everyone does.”
Then he walks around the side and disappears. Louis pulls back a little, but the tied lead gives him almost no room to move. He clenches his thighs against his alarmingly heavy balls and tries to move his legs together, get any sort of movement against his swollen cock. Drool pours uselessly from his lips.
Then Zayn appears again at the other side of the stall.
Louis tries to turn his head but he finds he has little ability with the way the collar is tied. Still, he gets a moderate enough view of Zayn to see him squat behind Louis and stick his hands in the waistband of Louis’ joggers.
Garbled nonsense falls past Louis’ lips, “Gggnnnhh” as he grinds his teeth down on the tube. Zayn pays no mind, pulling Louis’ joggers down in one swift motion until they’re around his thighs, and his aching cock and balls are exposed.
“That’s good progress,” Zayn remarks. He reaches one hand down and cups Louis’ balls, fondling them. “Those are definitely enlarged.”
Louis protests loudly, trying to draw his legs together, to little avail. His tail lashes in anger but at the same time it’s as limp as the rest of him and doesn’t seem to bother Zayn. Zayn pushes them apart with ease, until he’s halfway to doing the splits. “We’ll start you off easy, but I think you’ll be able to move up to the big leagues pretty fast.”
He leans to the side of the stall and pulls a bit of tube that comes up out of a hole in the floor. The end of it has a bell shaped extension that Louis sees for only a moment before Zayn pulls it between his legs.
He feels when Zayn secures it around his cock, though.
It feels like a toy, specifically one of Harry’s favourites that’s ribbed and tight. Louis groans, embarrassment and alarm tangling with relief at the feeling, his throbbing cock and tingling-turning-aching balls desperate for anything.
Louis’ already sort of half-humping the tube, not that it makes much difference as it moves with him, and misses for a moment what Zayn pulls out next, until something cold and large is pushing against his ass.
Louis stumbles forward, the single step he can take, until his head hangs over the short wall at the back of the pen. Zayn has his tail lifted up in one hand, as the other pushes something into him. The cold metal pushes relentlessly, and Louis finds his ass breached by something round and metal. It’s not huge, but when the plug finally enters him, Zayn does something, and Louis finds that it’s frozen in place. He looks around and sees a metal rod fastened to the floor. The plug at the end of the rod is far enough up that he can’t simply fall or even let his legs spread further than they are.
He clenches around it, alarmed by the way he seems to be hooked on it, and doesn’t notice until too late that Zayn has moved around to the other side again, right in front of his face.
He has a metal semicircle hoop this time. That he puts around Louis’ neck, fastening on either side of him to the low wall.
Louis makes a low moan of protest, but it’s not like he wasn’t already secured by the lead. This is just so. Animalistic. The way they treated hybrids a few hundred years ago.
“You’ll feel better in a moment,” Zayn says, but the gentleness isn’t quite there. “Try to enjoy yourself.”
Then he flips a switch that’s set against the outside wall of the pen. Two things happen at once, both taking up equal space in his mind. The first is something starts seeping into his mouth from the tube, sliding straight down his throat from how far it’s inserted. He gets the taste of cotton candy and the sensation of warm, thick liquid. It doesn’t come fast, but it is consistent, and Louis has to work to keep from gagging.
At the same time, the tube around his cock begins to pump, in steady, strong pulses around his cock. WIth how hard he is, he comes almost immediately frome the sensation.
But the tube doesn’t let up, pulsing around him in a steady rhythm as his cock is drained.
He whines into the gag, unable to move at all between the metal around his neck and the metal in his ass and the bands around his arms and legs. The liquid going down his throat is a steady stream, and the more it leaks into him, the more his insides start to feel that familiar tingling again, that tingling that never quite left his balls and cock.
A screen flashes up, for the first time, in front of him. It must be a projector on the wall. Louis blinks blearily at it, as his cock is overstimulated from the pump but at the same time beginning to tingle and fill again.
The screen projects his name — Louis Tomlinson — and a graphic below of an empty milk bottle. As Louis squints at it, a line of white appears at the bottom, and the words Donations given: 5ml
Below that, Rest period reached at: 50 ml
Louis groans, hanging his head against the wall. Some of the cotton candy sweetness falls past his lips.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Zayn says. Louis didn’t even realise Zayn was still around. “Unless you want the deeper tube.”
Louis picks his head back up. The liquid slides down his throat.
His cock is beginning to throb again. Louis’ tail twitches in pathetic complaint as his heavy balls get progressively more tingly, enlarging from whatever’s inside of him. His cock jumps from overstimulation but also from the almost instant need for release, coming much too soon after the first time.
Donations given: 8ml
At some point Zayn does leave.
Louis’ cock throbs and he pulls uselessly at his arms.
His balls ache and he drools helplessly from his gag.
At another point, much later down the road, another screen lights up, with another name and another bottle, to the right of his own.
Then another one next to it.
Louis hears the quiet moans of others in their pens. But by then he’s too lost in the sensation, lost in the need.
Donations given: 52 ml
Rest Period: Denied by Admin
Louis loses track of time.
All he is able to remember is the feeling of being pinned in place. The feeling being force fed and milked and restrained. His whole self nothing but an animal to be kept caged and worked. Gagged and pumped and milked.
—
Louis wakes up in his bed.
He’s not in the pen. He’s not hooked up to anything.
He’s sore. Every part of him is sore.
But he’s free of anything binding him. What…?
Turning over, he finds his phone. Clicking it on, he realises with a start that the ten days are gone, and any minute now —
The phone at his bedside rings. Picking it up with a shaking hand, Louis answers. “Hello?”
“Hello, this is Zayn at the front desk.” Holy shit. “Harry is here to pick you up. Will you need help with your bags?”
Louis looks to the foot of his bed and finds that he does not. They’re all packed. “No… thank you,” he says slowly, hanging up.
He sits up. Everything is so normal. It couldn’t have been… a dream?
Shouldering his bag, Louis pushes open the door and makes his way to the front. The second he pushes open the door to the lobby, Harry is launching himself at him. “Louis!” he shouts, nuzzling into his face. “I missed you so much!”
Louis drops his bags and jumps, wrapping his legs around Harry. His cock is sore, dear god. But he’s never letting go. “I missed you too,” he mumbles into Harry’s ear. “Home now?”
“Of course, baby,” Harry says, leaning down to pick up Louis’ bags as Louis is still wrapped firmly around him, his tail tightest of all.
Zayn laughs goodnaturedly at them. “You’re all set and good to go!” he says. “I hope you enjoyed your stay, Louis, and look forward to hearing from you again!”
Louis doesn’t hiss at him but he doesn’t take his nose out of Harry’s neck either.
In the car on the way home, Harry asks how the stay was and Louis doesn’t quite know how to answer, because he’s doubting himself. Instead he turns it back on Harry’s tour, which launches a million stories that Louis is grateful to hear.
It’s not until he’s unpacking his bags later at their house, in the safety of their messy bedroom, that Louis pulls out a small box with the Knot’s Farms logo on it that he doesn’t remember seeing. Inside is a handwritten note.
You’ll want to schedule a visit in six to nine months, because all those new hormones inside of you haven’t just gone away. We’re not the best at repeat kennel visitors for nothing, after all.
Underneath the note is a small plastic bag with a thin blue melt-on-the-tongue scrap. Louis shudders, his ears back, as he buries the box at the bottom of his things.