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trishSo yesterday a friend was trying to convince me to go to Burning Man and he know exactly where my buttons were. I was a little drunk, he was more than a little drunk (and possibly hitting on me?) [1], and he said "You know you want to be out there and get picked up and put in a cage." I said... huh? "You know you do. All you furries want it." Apparently there is an Animal Control truck that goes around catching furries in giant nets and abducting them to the pound. Actually. For reals.
"What... what happens when they get to the pound?" I asked in a voice tone entirely inappropriate to this kind of casual gathering.
"Well," said my friend, "that depends on what you want to happen."
Oh God. I mean, I am definitely not going this year, as I've already spent money on plans other than that in the same time and can't afford a camping trip to the desert right now anyway. But... seriously? I mean, just, I had heard about the Animal Control people before, but it had somehow never occured to me before to put together 2 and 2 and get strangers capturing me and putting me in a cage in a semi-consensual environment. I mean I don't think I had ever completely fleshed out that fantasy but YES PLEASE. I mean, a context where I am wandering around an accepting environment in a skimpy catgirl costume, and all of the sudden a bunch of people in uniforms wrap me up in a giant net and then put me in a cage? And I'm told everything at Burning Man ends in either pounding techno music or an orgy, either of which would be acceptable. But, since this is my sketchy sex journal, here's how I would want it to end:
After a brief struggle, I'm thrown in the back of their Animal Control van in a cage fenced off from some other "animals" with chain-link fencing. Nervous and skittish, we would sniff at each other through the bars, pawing feebly at the lock keeping us inside. For my part, I would know that were it not for the paws restricting my hands, I could reach into my bag and pull out my tools and pick the lock --- no, wait, they've taken my bag. Sulk, pout. A knot of nervous excitement in my stomach: it bounces back and forth as the van moves ungainly forward. The sounds of revelry around me grow fainter; one of the other animals slams himself into the cage wall a couple of times, to no effect except making the van shake more. I hiss quietly; his tail pulls up between his legs. The van stops. The uniforms get in, they put their hands to the cage, I sniff their hands, I fall asleep...
I wake up in a cage in a cool, dark room, laying on a comfortable blanket. The rest of the floor is cool stone, and there is water. I drink. I feel a little bit odd; tired, in a way that I don't need to be, a little fuzzy, and oh look, I'm not wearing any clothes. That's fine... everything is fine. I drink more water and lay back down. I hear voices, but I don't look up; hands reach in and poke, prod, examine, pet a little bit. Mew, stretch, flop. Very tired; the hands retreat, and back to sleep. I wake up again, back in the van, a little less groggy this time, and alone. I'm dressed again, but there are bandages on my torso, and something chafing against my thigh... I'm helped out of the van onto all fours on the outskirts of "town" and no one bats an eye. I stretch out, stand up, and walk to where there are people, still a little bit dizzy, eventually finding my campsite and settling down. E takes off my paws and I undress, and find that tucked into my underwear is a little slip of paper wrapped around plastic: documentation that I've been part of a "Spay and Release" program printed out on stationery, with a phone number written in red pen, and a little USB key with "video" written on it in Sharpie. I start to remember. E holds eye contact. Oh shit I am in trouble. So much trouble. Nervous. Dizzy. Fearful. Want to look away, can't look away, I see anger, she grabs me by the neck, squeezes, leans in, I can't breathe, she whispers:
"It was a setup, kitten."
She lets go. I fall down. I purrrr.....
[1] Yesterday was apparently "chat up Trish" day. Between two guys at that party and a girl in a cafe walking up to me out of the blue to tell me she liked my poetry (I read at an open mic night occasionally), my ego meter is pretty much full. =^.^=
"What... what happens when they get to the pound?" I asked in a voice tone entirely inappropriate to this kind of casual gathering.
"Well," said my friend, "that depends on what you want to happen."
Oh God. I mean, I am definitely not going this year, as I've already spent money on plans other than that in the same time and can't afford a camping trip to the desert right now anyway. But... seriously? I mean, just, I had heard about the Animal Control people before, but it had somehow never occured to me before to put together 2 and 2 and get strangers capturing me and putting me in a cage in a semi-consensual environment. I mean I don't think I had ever completely fleshed out that fantasy but YES PLEASE. I mean, a context where I am wandering around an accepting environment in a skimpy catgirl costume, and all of the sudden a bunch of people in uniforms wrap me up in a giant net and then put me in a cage? And I'm told everything at Burning Man ends in either pounding techno music or an orgy, either of which would be acceptable. But, since this is my sketchy sex journal, here's how I would want it to end:
After a brief struggle, I'm thrown in the back of their Animal Control van in a cage fenced off from some other "animals" with chain-link fencing. Nervous and skittish, we would sniff at each other through the bars, pawing feebly at the lock keeping us inside. For my part, I would know that were it not for the paws restricting my hands, I could reach into my bag and pull out my tools and pick the lock --- no, wait, they've taken my bag. Sulk, pout. A knot of nervous excitement in my stomach: it bounces back and forth as the van moves ungainly forward. The sounds of revelry around me grow fainter; one of the other animals slams himself into the cage wall a couple of times, to no effect except making the van shake more. I hiss quietly; his tail pulls up between his legs. The van stops. The uniforms get in, they put their hands to the cage, I sniff their hands, I fall asleep...
I wake up in a cage in a cool, dark room, laying on a comfortable blanket. The rest of the floor is cool stone, and there is water. I drink. I feel a little bit odd; tired, in a way that I don't need to be, a little fuzzy, and oh look, I'm not wearing any clothes. That's fine... everything is fine. I drink more water and lay back down. I hear voices, but I don't look up; hands reach in and poke, prod, examine, pet a little bit. Mew, stretch, flop. Very tired; the hands retreat, and back to sleep. I wake up again, back in the van, a little less groggy this time, and alone. I'm dressed again, but there are bandages on my torso, and something chafing against my thigh... I'm helped out of the van onto all fours on the outskirts of "town" and no one bats an eye. I stretch out, stand up, and walk to where there are people, still a little bit dizzy, eventually finding my campsite and settling down. E takes off my paws and I undress, and find that tucked into my underwear is a little slip of paper wrapped around plastic: documentation that I've been part of a "Spay and Release" program printed out on stationery, with a phone number written in red pen, and a little USB key with "video" written on it in Sharpie. I start to remember. E holds eye contact. Oh shit I am in trouble. So much trouble. Nervous. Dizzy. Fearful. Want to look away, can't look away, I see anger, she grabs me by the neck, squeezes, leans in, I can't breathe, she whispers:
"It was a setup, kitten."
She lets go. I fall down. I purrrr.....
[1] Yesterday was apparently "chat up Trish" day. Between two guys at that party and a girl in a cafe walking up to me out of the blue to tell me she liked my poetry (I read at an open mic night occasionally), my ego meter is pretty much full. =^.^=
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as a side note...
Date: 2008-07-02 01:41 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-07-03 02:15 am (UTC)...but I just can't follow you into a surgery mindfuck scene. Right up to that I'm in YKIOK-land, but right there, I cannot follow. I'll be over there, with my skin that just crawled away. :)
(yet, I can't really look away, and I'm wondering if they do cut you a bit or if they just put a bandage on or if they put ketchup in it or something. that question may not show up in the cat-brain, though. Also, if you're dressed like a cat, and the outfit has fur, if they take the costume away or just shave it. And what you would later think of the shaved-belly costume. Which only has me wondering if you'd subsequently need one of the cones to keep you from licking.)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-07-03 11:09 am (UTC)The shaved-belly would be sort of weird and upsetting actually, but the costumes I wear don't tend to have fur over the entire body, so that wouldn't likely be an issue. Wearing one of those cones would actually be really interesting and was not something I considered.
I didn't mean to make your skin crawl away. I mean, were this to actually happen to me, my skin would be crawling like mad too. But I enjoy that, sometimes, and have recently been in a mood....
(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-28 03:46 am (UTC)