Tessa awoke to the loud clang of metal on tile. Disoriented, she paused for a second to wonder why it was still dark. Then the horrors of the previous day returned to her. After Saren had left, the techs had carried her to some sort of holding room and left her there. She had awkwardly lifted herself onto her elbows and knees and shuffled around the room, trying to learn about her new home. Her mask caused her to bump into a couple walls, and all she found was a drain at one corner of the room, and a large soft cushion at the other corner. Upon further inspection, Tessa realized the cushion was actually a large dog bed. It smelled clean and felt new, and being too tired from the trials of the day to be offended, she immediately curled up and fell asleep.

 

She didn’t know how long she had slept, but she felt fairly well-rested, and surprisingly clear-headed, and now the spark of fury flared bright within her again. The only way out of her current situation was either escape or rescue. She couldn’t control if rescue was coming, but she could definitely gather information that might reveal a way out of here. Remembering the sound that woke her, she pushed herself up off the dog bed, wincing as her tail made itself known again. She had tried to get rid of it the previous day, but with her arms bound, she had no way to pull it out. Smashing it against the wall had done nothing but push the beads farther in and smear her juices over the tiled wall.

 

Starting another search of the room, Tessa quickly found the source of the noise. A metal bowl had been shoved through a small opening in the door. Food? Tessa’s stomach clenched at the memory of her last meal, which had been a granola bar from the bottom of her purse almost two days ago. She hadn’t had any water in quite a while too. She considered ignoring the complaints of her stomach, but the intense hunger and thirst made her limbs tremble.

 

She shuffled closer on her knees, the latex sleeves forcing her to move in short, animalistic lurches. She tried to pick the bowl up, forgetting for a moment that she no longer had hands. The rubber paw covers made it impossible to get a grip, so she bent forward, using her chin to drag the bowl closer. It clattered against the tile as she lowered her nose to the surface.

 

She sniffed at it, expecting maybe oatmeal or some kind of porridge, and instead caught a whiff of something acrid, saline and faintly chemical. She dipped her tongue in, more curious than hopeful. Inside the bowl was a viscous fluid, filling it nearly to the brim. It rippled faintly, picking up the faint vibrations of lights and machines humming in the walls. The fluid clung to her lips; it was warm, thick, and as she slurped some into her mouth, her stomach turned over with revulsion.

 

It tasted like cum.

 

Not just a little, either. The flavor was unmistakable, like the aftermath of a one-night stand that she’d never confessed to anyone. Bitter, protein-thick, the lingering aftertaste so strong it seemed designed to haunt the palate. She gagged, spitting and sputtering, bile stinging her throat. Maybe it was some kind of synthetic nutrient paste, but with the mask clamped over her face and the taste clinging to her tongue, it felt like a punishment, a whole new tier of degradation.

 

She attempted to shove the bowl away in anger, but her rubberized paw tipped the bowl over, sloshing its contents onto the floor. There was no escaping the smell now; it smeared across her nose, and the droplets beaded along her chin before sliding down to her bare chest. Tessa wanted to retch, but there was nothing left in her stomach.

 

She crawled to the corner, panting hard, and pressed her forehead to the cool tile. She stayed still for a few minutes, waiting for the nausea to fade. Suddenly a hiss of white noise seeped from a hidden speaker overhead; Tessa bristled, suddenly alert. The mask’s audio filtration let in a faint, glassy voice. It was Saren again, his words as crisp and rehearsed as a news anchor’s.

 

“Good morning, Mittens. I see you found your breakfast. ViTech is very proud of it. You’ll find it has all the nutrition and hydration a growing pet needs. I do hope you get used to the taste, but either way, take care to finish your bowl. I’ll be looking in on your progress this evening.” The intercom buzzed off with a faint pop.

 

Hearing Saren’s voice again caused a different kind of nausea to hit her. She thought of a dozen ways to painfully kill the man who had trapped her in this hellscape, before almost collapsing from the shaking in her limbs. She should really eat something, or at least drink, but there was no source of water to be found in the room. Just the bowl. After several minutes of internal debate, she started crawling back over to it. If she didn’t have any energy, she wouldn’t have the strength to fight her captors, right?

 

Suddenly Tessa’s arms and legs slid out from under her and she crashed to the ground. The mask prevented her from seeing where the bowl’s contents had spilled, and now her naked chest was covered in the mess, droplets of the sticky slime pooling in her collarbones and slipping down between her small breasts. It clung to her skin in thick rivulets, the bitter smell even more intense at this proximity. Tessa cringed with disgust and tried to clean it off, but her useless latex nubs only resulted in smearing it further onto her chest.

 

After a few pathetic attempts at brushing the slime off, she realized the futility of resisting. She was starving, and her captors had left her nothing but this obscene slurry. Tessa’s stomach ached with emptiness, a reminder that despite everything, her body was still hers; hungry, alive, refusing to yield. She pressed her head down to the puddle like a starving animal, and lapped at the warm, salty muck coating the tiles.

 

The taste made her gag all over again, but she forced herself to swallow, desperate to quench her thirst. Each movement of her tongue made her feel less human and more like the creature Saren had promised to transform her into. She could almost hear his voice in the back of her mind, narrating her debasement for an invisible audience:

 

“Good girl. Pets that finish their food get treats.”

 

She dragged her face up and down the tile in quick, frantic strokes, collecting the spill and sucking it in, trying not to think about what she looked like: a grown woman with a tail sprouting from her ass, her tongue glued to a puddle of cum on the floor, latex legs splayed around her like an animal. The abasement rooted itself somewhere behind her ribs, branching out into every nerve ending.

 

By the time the tiles were cleaned of the goo, her stomach was sloshing and slightly queasy. She shuddered but forced herself not to throw it back up. Hunger was the more pressing enemy. She crawled away from the scene and collapsed belly-first onto the dog bed, arms splayed out in front of her in a pathetic pantomime of a household pet.

 

She wept into the soft fabric, hating herself for breaking her resolution so quickly. Hating Saren most of all. Her mind cycled through possibilities, trying to imagine any way out of this. The mask wouldn’t come off; she’d tried. The tail was locked in her, impossible to remove with her arms folded and useless. Without hands she couldn’t even try to touch her own face. There was nothing to do but wait, and listen to the sound of her own tired breathing and the gurgling of her stomach as it digested the unfamiliar food.

 

But as the minutes crawled by, a familiar heat began to bloom under her skin. At first she blamed the feeling on her degradation, the flush of it radiating outward from her chest. But as it spread into her neck, her thighs, an electrical prickle gathering at every inch of exposed skin, panic seized in her lungs. No, no, no, she thought, not again! Surely the dose from yesterday had passed through her system.

 

She rolled onto her side, the dog bed squishing under her hip, and tried to ignore the tingling that began to pulse at the base of her spine. It was the same sensation as before, as if her entire body had become one trembling, hypersensitive nerve. Her breath hitched. She felt her nipples harden, and her pussy was already beginning to drip.

 

It couldn’t be the drug, Tessa reasoned. Saren hadn’t injected her since the day before… unless… unless they’d slipped something else into her system while she slept. Or into the food. The food. The realization sent a spike of fury through her. She shrieked, battered her head against the mattress, desperate to force the rising tide back under the surface. The heat inside her was a fever, blossoming from her core, spreading rapidly until her brain was barely capable of parsing anything except the urgent need saturating her system. It burned behind her eyes. She rolled back onto her belly and tried to focus on the soft comfort of the mattress. Her latex-lined limbs clawed at the bed, scraping and pawing but unable to dig in, mocking her entire predicament.

 

The plush dog bed yielded under her hips, and Tessa found herself bucking against it without conscious thought, each needy roll of her pelvis rubbing her swollen mound into the microfiber lining. The friction was a torment, perfect and punishing, amplified by the helplessness of her position. With every thrust, the thick tail plug shifted deep inside her, the string of beads grinding and tugging at her inner walls, putting a new, obscene pressure on her sensitive rosebud. Lightning shot up her spine; her breath rasped out in low, animalistic whimpers. The heat was unbearable now, a wildfire consuming her nerves from the inside out.

 

She pressed her bound arms hard into the bedding, anchoring herself, and rutted against it with wild abandon. The synthetic fur of the bed was quickly slicked through, soaking up the girlcum that poured from her abused slit. The mask trapped the sound of her panting, making every moan echo back into her own head, an endless amplification of her degradation.

 

Each involuntary buck of her hips made the tail’s base grind against her ass, sending fresh waves of agony and relief through her, and soon every sense was reduced to the torment of friction and fullness. She heard herself sobbing, a sound so raw and animal Tessa couldn’t believe it belonged to her. She wanted to stop, but her body only craved more. Each new flex and push was rewarded by a rush of sensation so intense that it drowned the voices of reason and hatred and shame.

 

Her body was hurtling towards a massive orgasm. Each movement of her hips was more frantic than the last, every nerve ending screaming for release, the tail inside her writhing like it could sense her readiness and was racing to keep up. She sobbed into the mattress, the fur matted with her tears and drool, and the throb between her legs was so strong she thought her pelvis might break apart. She rutted the bed with wild, helpless abandon, the pressure mounting higher, higher, her entire world reduced to the slick, pounding ache between her legs. She was close, so close, so close she thought she might die if she didn’t come.

 

For a moment, she was suspended at the peak, every muscle frozen, her breath locked in her chest, the world holding still for the single, perfect instant before release. It was ecstasy, it was everything, it was the only good feeling she had left in this cage.

 

Then the electricity hit her.

 

The plug in her ass lit up with a cold, white-hot jolt of energy, a neural spike that shot straight up her lower spine and exploded behind her eyes. Tessa screamed, her voice raw and desperate, as she collapsed onto the bed, limbs jerking violently. The orgasm, so tantalizingly close, was ripped from her grasp just as it was about to fulfill her need. The aftershocks of the punishment rolled through her, igniting every muscle, her cunt still spasming with a need so acute she thought she’d vomit. A sudden warmth flooded her, and she felt the shameful trickle of urine escape her, soaking into the fabric beneath her. She curled around herself, sobbing, not even trying to wipe the mess of drool and tears from her face, the humiliation compounding with each shuddering breath.

 

Tessa wasn’t even given a minute to recover, before she heard the hiss of the door sliding open and the pound of rubber-soled boots on the tiles. A pair of gloved hands attached something to her collar, and she heard a terse order from the same stern woman she had seen the day before.

 

“Bad girl, trying to cum without permission. Time for a walk; it’s your first day of training.“

 

The tech’s grip on her leash was merciless; it yanked Tessa off the dog bed and sent her sprawling forward onto the cold tile, knees and elbows buckling beneath her. The woman in the mask and lab coat didn’t slow, just tugged her upright again until Tessa was forced to scuttle after her, clumsy and gasping with the aftermath of her denied orgasm. Her tail shifted with every step, the plug in her ass making her feel so full, each jostle sending sharp reminders to her desperate flesh. Her nipples dragged raw against floor when she stumbled, and the lingering wet between her thighs matted both the latex and her own skin.

 

The woman dragged her deeper into the labyrinth. Blind behind the mask, Tessa tried to listen and learn in order to build some kind of mental map of the facility. Sometimes, the leash slackened, leaving her to move blindly forwards until jerked in another direction as they turned down a new hallway. The animal obedience forced from her was a sick knot in her gut. Worse, the pressure in her groin had not subsided; every step, every accidental brush of the tail, amplified the embarrassment thrumming just under her skin.

 

She couldn’t focus; her body was a disorganized mess of deprivation and want, and without being able to see, nothing about this new place made sense. Hallways forked. Doors slid open to other rooms, some empty, some abuzz with chatter from lab techs or humming machines. She didn’t think to ask where they were going.

 

They finally entered an area with different acoustics: warmer, less echo, multiple voices that immediately went quiet as Tessa was led into the room. She couldn’t tell if this was the same examination room she had been trapped in yesterday, or a completely different location. The woman leading her forced Tessa into the middle of the room and anchored the leash to a floor ring. Several people start to surround her; clammy gloved hands gripped her shoulders, knees. She braced herself, glaring through the blackness of the mask, heart pounding as voices conferred above her with unsettling calm.

 

“Subject already demonstrated a high level response to S-137,” the stern woman stated. “We’ll begin with basic behavioral conditioning, set for four hours.”

 

A different voice, male and younger, piped up: “Why did Saren approve the demo so soon?”

 

The woman’s answer was flat. “He wants a full report by end of the month. We’re behind schedule.”

 

Then, to Tessa, “We’ll start with something easy. Let’s see if you can figure this one out yourself: Sit, Mittens.”

 

The command didn’t register. Tessa had barely been listening, still distracted in the wake of the plug’s last betrayal, her mind too clouded by the cocktail of drugs, humiliation, and thwarted arousal to process the expectation in the woman’s voice. Who was Mittens again?

 

There was a beep, and the tail’s plug spat another brutal shock through her rawest nerves. Tessa shrieked and crumpled, her hips slamming to the floor. It wasn’t as painful as this morning, but the punishment still left her shaking, drool spilling from her open mouth onto the tile. Thankfully her bladder was already empty from the previous punishment.

 

The male tech sounded bored. “Hesitation to obey.”

 

The woman repeated her command. “Mittens, Sit.”

 

Tessa realized what would happen if she didn’t move. She ignored the pain wracking her body and immediately started scrambling into a kneeling position, pleading in a hoarse voice “Okay! Okay! Please don’t hurt—”

 

Another shock. Another scream from Tessa. Another rule. “Talking without permission.“

 

“I hope you’re not as stupid as you look,” the woman had an edge to her voice. “SIT, you dumb bitch.”

 

Tessa sobbed and tried again. This time she pressed her legs together and tucked her calves in classically underneath her thighs, chest thrust out, arms at her sides, looking like a nervous schoolgirl at a disciplinary hearing, if schoolgirls had paws instead of hands and a steel plug up their ass. She kept her mouth shut. She waited.

 

“Much better, good girl!” The woman’s tone had changed on a dime to a cutesy giggle. Confused, Tessa suddenly felt hands on her head, tousling the mask’s ears like one would pet a dog.

 

As soon as the petting started, Tessa jumped as her tail whirred to life again. She expected another shock, but the beads in her ass thrummed in a rippling wave that started deep in her core and sizzled outward, electric and impossible to ignore. She was still suffering from the drugged food she had eaten earlier, and her eyes rolled back from the pleasure. The vibration in her ass was far from her aching cunt, but any stimulation felt like heaven in her current condition. She made a sound; part whimper, part choked moan, and wholly undignified. The room, previously subdued in its busy silence, erupted into a chorus of low, knowing laughter. One of the techs, the man who had spoken earlier, grinned, “See? Positive reinforcement is necessary too!”

 

They were just getting started.

 

The lesson escalated; the woman seized Tessa’s cheeks, fingers digging in until her mouth was forced open, tongue exposed. “Now beg, Mittens.” There was no ambiguity: the command was a thick cord binding her will, and the implication of what was coming next sent a wave of dread through Tessa’s gut.

 

Unsure of the protocol, she stuck her tongue out, a pantomime of a dog eager for treats, and the humiliation was near total. She tried to hold onto some last bit of dignity, but the latex sleeves, the tail, the mask’s cat ears, all conspired to turn her into a living joke. Her tongue hung loosely between her lips, and a strand of drool started to fall onto her breasts. Again, the woman rubbed her head and faux ears, and the tail’s internal motors responded with another steady vibration that made her holes clench and drip.

 

“Good girl! Keep your tongue out, Mittens," the trainer instructed. "Pets who beg properly get rewarded. If you mess up, you know what happens." Tessa cringed, but held the position. The room watched, silent but for the wet, animal sounds of Tessa's breath as she knelt in perfect, pathetic imitation of a begging animal.

 

"Good girl. Now stay. Don't move unless I say." Tessa strained to obey, tongue extended, lips slack, cheeks burning with the effort and the shame of being talked to like some animal. She heard the trainer woman step away for a few seconds, and then return.

 

A gloved hand grasped her chin, steady and unyielding, smearing a thick glob of something directly onto Tessa’s outstretched tongue. The flavor hit her with the force of a slap; it was the same food that she had licked off the floor less than an hour ago, but she forced herself to remain still, terrified of being shocked again. The woman applied another dollop, painting Tessa’s lips and the inside of her cheeks until they were thoroughly coated with the viscous, synthetic cum. “There we go, Mittens. Doesn’t that taste nice?” The question was rhetorical; she couldn’t have answered with her tongue still lolling out of her mouth.

 

Without control of her tongue, Tessa started to drool uncontrollably. Her mouth couldn’t hold the volume of nutrient compound, and the foul fluid overflowed, spilling down her chin in a sticky, humiliating cascade that quickly covered her athletic body. The sensation was overwhelming: chemical protein stung her taste buds, and she fought the urge to retch. Instead, she couldn’t prevent herself from gagging and choking as the stuff smeared her face in translucent strings.

 

The laughter in the room grew. One of the male techs barked, “Look at how much she likes it!” and the others responded with a cruel, appreciative snort. Tessa felt her eyes fill with tears. At least, she hoped they were tears and not more of the synthetic filth now pooling in the cleavage between her thighs.

 

“Very good girl! Swallow!” And Tessa forced herself to gulp down what remained in her mouth as the tail plug rewarded her once more. In some far-away place in her brain, the thought struck her that it didn’t taste quite as bad the second time around.

 

A new rush of heat, and the ache between her legs intensified. Tessa realized they’d dosed her again; the aphrodisiac was definitely mixed into the food they were giving her. The effect was immediate and exponential; her pale skin flushed with a feverish blush, and every nerve ending lit up like a shorted wire.

 

The trainer circled her slowly. “We’ll try something harder for you, Mittens. Present.” The word hung in the air, unfamiliar, but the meaning was clarified when the trainer yanked her leash forward, jerking Tessa’s head down, while another tech pressed hard between her shoulder blades. The intent was unmistakable: get your face on the ground, ass in the air.

 

Tessa’s body, pliant and desperate to avoid another jolt, fell into position: she sprawled forward, cheeks and chest smacking cold tile, latex-encased arms outstretched, hips up and out, tail falling onto her back to expose her most vulnerable parts. The mess of drool and cum on her breasts made it almost impossible to keep her upper body braced on the floor; she had to keep repositioning her legs in order to avoid falling down completely. The trainer didn’t seem to mind, though. Tessa felt a strange sensation between her legs, on top of the infuriating itch caused by the drug. Then she realized: her pussy was drooling. Literally. The surge of arousal brought on by the tail’s buzz, the helplessness, and the renewed chemical lust had Tessa’s cunt leaking a clear, viscous stream that dripped from her slit in long, embarrassing ropes, mixing with the smears of synthetic protein on the tiles beneath her. Her hips involuntarily humped the air, spasming, every subtle movement of her hips only encouraged another obscene squirt. The new position put the slick mess on full display for the crowd observing her, and the whole room reeked of pussy.

 

“Very good, Mittens!” her trainer crooned, “Keep your ass up.”

 

The trainer’s tight grip on Tessa’s lower back was unyielding. The other hand probed with gloved precision at the base of her tail, fingers pinching and pulling, loosening the plug’s grip on her asshole. A hot flush raced up Tessa’s spine; the anticipation was excruciating, a cold sweat breaking out along her arms and chest.

 

Then, with a deliberate, slow pressure, the beads began to slide out.

 

The first orb stretched her hole, sharp and burning, while Tessa let out a drawn-out whine from the intense sensation. then snapped free with a wet, obscene plop. Tessa’s body jerked and shivered, a reflexive clench squeezing around the sudden emptiness. The next bead followed, cruelly slow, each one stretching her rim anew before leaving her gaping, fluttering around the void left behind. Her fingers and toes curled in their bindings in response to the feeling.

 

The tail made a soft, wet sound as each bead slipped free, every one leaving her wider, more exposed, and more desperate to clench around something, anything, to relieve the intolerable emptiness. When the largest orb finally parted from her, Tessa's hips bucked involuntarily, her stomach seizing up with a tidal surge of shame and raw need. The tail slithered out with a combination of cool air and slick friction, and then nothing, just a yawning openness and the tremble of her own muscles trying to contract around a ghost.

 

She waited for the blessed numbness that sometimes followed pain, but instead her insides steamed with new humiliation. Her asshole fluttered, opening and closing uselessly, so sensitive she almost screamed just from the draft. Her cunt was dripping so much it was a wonder the entire facility didn't smell like pussy. Tessa locked her shoulders in place and splayed her knees for balance, not daring to lower her hips without permission.

 

Her face mashed against the tile, the tang of synthetic cum in her mouth. Wetness from her own cunt was streaming down her thighs; she had no idea her body could make that much. Her asshole throbbed, stretched and raw, the air on it so cold she couldn't stop shivering. She focused on the cold. If she thought about anything else, she'd die.

 

The tech woman’s voice was close now, a private whisper: “Stay, Mittens. Don’t move. Good girls hold still.”

 

From behind, the woman rustled through a tray, metal instruments clinking, the familiar pop of a cap being opened. Tessa shuddered she felt something prodding where the tail had recently filled; a gloved thumb pressed against the side of her sphincter, preventing it from closing. Something thick and wet was slathered across the inside of her cheeks, then squirted directly into her ruined hole. Tears of shame filled Tessa’s covered eyes; it was more of the same stuff they had forced into her front-hole a minute ago.

 

There was a wet, gloved finger now, prodding the raw, twitching opening and pressing the slickness deeper into her. Then two fingers, prying her wider, the spaces between them slicking her ass with more of the stuff. Tessa choked on her own breath as the fingers twisted, working the thick fluid around and in, even as her holes begged for relief. The degradation was a physical burn, hotter even than the flush rising in her chest.

 

The sensation stopped. Tessa waited, heart thrumming, feeling the mixture ooze down the backs of her thighs. Then the tip of the tail, now cold from the air, pressed against her gaping asshole. This time, the first bead slipped in with obscene ease. All that slop, her own and theirs, made her body swallow it down greedily. The cool metal chilled her nerves, and then the next bead slid past her rim, stretching her wider but without the tearing pain. The metal spheres filled her to overflowing, and she shuddered, instinctively trying to clench, but it only made the tail seat itself further inside.

 

The trainer cooed in her ear, “See? That’s what happens when you listen. Good girl, Mittens. Such a good little pet.”

 

The praise landed like a slap. Tessa’s cheeks burned. She wanted to bite the woman’s hand. She wanted to scream, to run, to burn this place to the ground. But all she could manage was a strangled whimper, the raw sensory overload reducing her to a whining bundle of clenching nerves.

 

“Alright, let’s move on to the next command.”

 

And so it went, practicing commands like “Play dead,” “Heel,” and “Speak,” each one burning deeper into her psyche. Not once did they touch her where she longed for it most, leaving her aching and desperate for release. Tessa shuddered, knowing the price of disobedience; another punishment awaited if she dared to seek any relief without permission. After hours of training, the techs gave her an enema, sprayed her down with a hose, and finally brought her back to her cell, where she collapsed in exhaustion. Too tired to even cry, Tessa slept fitfully, tormented by lust-fueled visions as her dreams brought her no peace.