Four.

Four attempts.

You were almost certain that the last attempt wouldn't fail, after leaving your phone behind on the third attempt due to realising it was bugged you had no idea how in the hell they could've tracked you down again.

Hey, at least you managed to get away for longer this time. Surely that counts for something. A pathetic two hours after your first attempt, an unimpressive fourteen hours the next, then three days, and then finally a whole week this time!

For something so fucking useless, you really had outdone yourself this time.

You didn't even want to consider what was in store for you after this latest stunt. The last thing you remember before waking up back here was a rag being placed over your mouth before She made an incision next to the three other scars She'd carved into your thigh after your previous escape attempts. Each deeper and longer than the last, each skirting closer and closer to your femoral artery. There really weren't many more cuts left there until it was severed and you bleed out. If you were going to attempt to escape again, you'd better make sure they don't catch you. You really don't have the best of luck in that department, so maybe it's best you simply stay here and obey.

As you lie on the cold, hard ground and begin to open your eyes and writhe around, you notice that She's already put you back into arm and leg braces. Considering just how long She'd kept you in arm and leg braces, it was a miracle you were even able to stand at all and attempt escape. You have a feeling that this time, She won't be so careless.

You're encased in latex underneath the binders, the only gaps being around your mouth, eyes, genitalia, and anus. Your cock is locked inside an inverted chastity cage, a catheter poking from the end of your urethra so you can relieve yourself. A large tail plug pokes from your rectum, and a mat for you to piss on lies at the end of your cage next to three bowls: one with wet food, one with dry food, and the other with water. There is just enough room in the cage for you to get up on your hands and knees and rotate 360 degrees. The mat is small, and the scent of urine is apparent throughout the room.

You are absolutely starving, and drag yourself up onto your elbows and knees and walk over to the bowls like a good pet. The wet food smells awful, yet you cannot even hold your nose to ease it going down. You force your head down into the slop and force it into your mouth. You wretch in between each bite, fighting against the natural urge to throw up.

It tastes, different...

You've eaten enough of this slop for Her and although it's stench remained the same rancid it always did, it left an aftertaste in your mouth that reminds you of drop-back from MDMA. Though the taste is of that of chemicals, tasting disgusting, it gives you memories back to past benders you'd been on.

Conversations had in smoking areas with strangers, the clenching of your jaw, telling those closest to you that you love them, the hugs, the loving embrace. That all seems so very long ago now, and you wonder what the hell your friends and family thing happened to you. Died? Left without a trace? It doesn't bare thinking about. With these memories circling through your mind, the fight against your stomach becomes slightly easier with each bite.

You finally finish lapping it up, and turn your head to sip from the bowl of water. 'It truly is astounding that you ate and drank like a person for so long, did it not feel wholly unnatural?' speaks the internal voice in your head. You try to kill it, try to keep some semblance of respect and humanity but you can fight that feeling inside you. You have been uncertain about so many things in your life, but this is one thing that your head tells you is true:

You deserve this.

You are happier like this.

You aren't a person.

You are a pet.

Why do you enjoy wallowing in such depravity? ANYONE who gets off on stuff like this surely deserves to be in this position, right?

You can't stop the voices now.

It's Her voice saying it inside your head.

You love Her. Despite it all you have never loved anyone as much as Her. You value the abuse, because you are broken.

The thoughts continue racing, infecting your bloodstream. Her desires have infected your head like a parasite, your own desires and impulses removed and replaced with Hers. One and the same.

You may develop muscular atrophy in your arms and legs, but is that really that important? You have always felt more comfortable on all fours anyway, exactly as a pet should do. She has no use for you being bipedal, and besides, did it not always feel a bit weird being taller than Her? With the dynamic She's forced you into, it simply makes more sense for you to be below Her at all times, right?

There's no point fighting against it, this is what you want.

Even if it isn't, it's happening. You can either enjoy it or struggle. She enjoys the fight, and She always wins.

You hear the key enter the door to the room you're locked in, and quickly turn your head away from it and bury it into the pillows in your cage.

You hear the door open, followed by the echoes of her stilettos on the cold, hard floor. The echoes stop, and after a long pause, you hear a familiar voice:

"Turn around and look at me, mutt."