James is a Werewolf and the curator of the Museum of Forgotten Days and his most precious possession and the star of the Museum is his little pup, a relic of a past that is thought to have gone extinct, a lovely eighteen-year-old human who now belongs to him in every sense of the word. His regular patrons come for the opportunity to see her through the glass window as much as they do the chance to purchase a small taste of her blood. Then again, they come for so much more than just a taste.
She doesn't think it's too bad. Her tummy's always full and he's always there to give her warm cuddles. She likes her extra special cuddles too, especially when he's there to watch over her.
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The most horrifying thing about it is how good it feels, his fingers touching her, making sure she's all cleaned up. He's so blasé about it too, not taking too long so she doesn’t have time to panic. A few seconds later, he has a new diaper wrapped up around her hips and she smells like roses and pink strawberry gum.
“There we go. That's much better now, isn't it?” he says, brushing tears away from her cheeks and waits for her to calm down completely before freeing her from her restraints. “If you can behave, Daddy won't swaddle you up and you can use your arms again,” he says seriously, his eyes wrinkling just a little bit, like he is so painfully fond of her that he can't even be serious with her without softening a little bit.
Being swaddled up in thick blankets means she'll be warm, but it also means she can't use her arms and legs on anything and she's just trapped all the time. She wonders if they had done something to her to make it so that she doesn't get all sore and tingly after such a long time of not moving, but it's not like she can ask. She chews on the dummy and nods.
“There's my good girl,” he says and wraps something soft onto her hands. They're like mittens, but they don't have thumbs on them. At least she can move her arms a little bit now.
He puts sock on her toes too, and then holds her around her waist so that her face is pressed against his shoulder. She breathes in his scent a little bit greedily, having associated being close to him to food and warmth and all the nice things.
“There's my perfect baby girl,” he says. “Daddy only wants what's best for you. You were out there all alone, struggling to be warm and have food on your table, weren't you, baby? No more of that. Daddy's going to make sure you always have whatever you need from now on.”
It's all very reassuring, but she doesn't know him— doesn't even know his name. She only fact she has about him is that he's a Werewolf. With nothing else to do, she chews her pacifier absendmindedly and lets him carry her out of the nursery and down the hall. Having a clean diaper makes her feel so much better and she knows it's only a matter of time before he feeds her again, so she closes her eyes and lets him bounce her in his arms and carry her places.
It's a little bit boring, watching over his shoulder as he works, busying himself with getting everything in the glass cabinets in perfect working condition, so she drifts off a little bit.
“Maybe I should have a playpen here set up for you,” he says. “Then you can nap and play when Daddy's working in the morning and Daddy can keep an eye out on you all the time.” He presses a kiss on her forehead and looks lost in his thought for a while as she naps.