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Artwork (Digital) / Bondage
Species Rodent (Other)
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My first art from 2014 featuring this jerboa-like character, he went on to be named "Deneb" and became the basis for my Jeroban race, a race of desert-dwelling, jerboa-like reptomammal creatures native to the planet Danajarba (but also having expanded to other worlds in their interstellar neighborhood over the millennia, forming the Cygnian Federation).
This is convict #714-147-4114. He can't tell you his name-regulations state that any inmate that has been deemed "volatile" or "unstable" must remain muzzled and shackled at all times for the safety of themselves and others. He's been deemed "highly volatile" and "mentally unstable" and hasn't been without his muzzle since his trial.
He can't tell you what he's in for-despite having quite the criminal record for one as young as he is, it's never been anything quite as serious as what got him into his current predicament. He can't tell you how some of his hair was found at the crime scene, or how his hair and fingerprints got on the weapon, but he also can't tell you that he doesn't have a good alibi for that night either. He would tell you that he had nothing to do with what happened and he had never seen her before, and whoever she was she probably didn't deserve what happened to her, and that he threw out that gun a few days earlier since he finally wanted to get his life in order.
He can't tell you that he's been sentenced to spend the rest of his life in exile on a penal colony on a distant planet as a convict laborer. He can't tell you how he's secretly very afraid of needles and almost fainted twice as they tattooed his new "identity" onto his thigh, or how he did actually pass out when they implanted the little tracking chip in the same area, like the identity chips sometimes implanted in pets should they become lost. He lost track of how long he's been in that cramped, cold, empty cell, or how degrading it is to have one of the guards run a razor over his tattoo every so often to keep his hair from growing over his ID number. He can't tell you how degrading it is to have someone pass a scanner over that area to read his ID chip and the little "beep" that comes with the scanner registering his ID number, statistics, status and sentence. He can't tell you how he hurt his wrist struggling to get out of the cuffs, and he can't tell you how fearful he is about what his future might have in store for him once he finally arrives at his new "home"...
This is convict #714-147-4114. He can't tell you his name-regulations state that any inmate that has been deemed "volatile" or "unstable" must remain muzzled and shackled at all times for the safety of themselves and others. He's been deemed "highly volatile" and "mentally unstable" and hasn't been without his muzzle since his trial.
He can't tell you what he's in for-despite having quite the criminal record for one as young as he is, it's never been anything quite as serious as what got him into his current predicament. He can't tell you how some of his hair was found at the crime scene, or how his hair and fingerprints got on the weapon, but he also can't tell you that he doesn't have a good alibi for that night either. He would tell you that he had nothing to do with what happened and he had never seen her before, and whoever she was she probably didn't deserve what happened to her, and that he threw out that gun a few days earlier since he finally wanted to get his life in order.
He can't tell you that he's been sentenced to spend the rest of his life in exile on a penal colony on a distant planet as a convict laborer. He can't tell you how he's secretly very afraid of needles and almost fainted twice as they tattooed his new "identity" onto his thigh, or how he did actually pass out when they implanted the little tracking chip in the same area, like the identity chips sometimes implanted in pets should they become lost. He lost track of how long he's been in that cramped, cold, empty cell, or how degrading it is to have one of the guards run a razor over his tattoo every so often to keep his hair from growing over his ID number. He can't tell you how degrading it is to have someone pass a scanner over that area to read his ID chip and the little "beep" that comes with the scanner registering his ID number, statistics, status and sentence. He can't tell you how he hurt his wrist struggling to get out of the cuffs, and he can't tell you how fearful he is about what his future might have in store for him once he finally arrives at his new "home"...
Category Artwork (Digital) / Bondage
Species Rodent (Other)
Size 800 x 1000px
File Size 770 kB
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