Trisha - Act X by Kellan_Meigh - Furry search engine

Trisha - Act X

Story by Kellan_Meigh on SoFurryJuly 2016~41 min read

Kellan_Meigh, Brothel, Chimera, Extreme, Female, Human, Male, NC, Sex

The long awaited continuation to Part One is now coming your way. We begin with the grim facts that surround Trisha and Claudette's abduction.

The story “Trisha" is the fanfiction intellectual property of Kellan Meig'h and may not be reposted, transmitted or copied and redistributed without expressed written permission. All characters are the property of Kellan Meig'h unless otherwise noted and may not be used without permission. Blue Diamond, Tigre, Cheshire, Chili, ICON, Foxforce, Firefox, Shadowfox, Silverfox and Technofox are the properties of Dynotaku (visual arts) that inspired the fanfictions by Nathan Cowan (written works). Any resemblance to any human person or chimera, whether living, dead or reprogrammed is purely coincidental.

I recommend that you read “Firefox" by Nathan Cowan first to better understand this story. If you don't, there are spoilers in here that would reduce your reading pleasure of the story that inspired this piece of fan fiction.

“ Trisha Part 2"

by Kellan Meig'h

“Trisha Part 2"

Act X

Tigre stirred when she was jostled by a man standing over her, unbuckling her seatbelt restraints for her so she could stand up and de-board the plane. The tigress didn't remember landing so she must have slept on the way to wherever they were, probably drugged by their captors to keep her quiet. Trisha was already in the van when they put her in next to her, making her put her seatbelt on by herself then locking her wrist chain to the seat between her legs.

“You just sit quietly and I won't have to gag you," the bald muscular man warned her, holding up a ball gag in his hands for effect.

“Yes Sir," she said quietly, bowing her head for him. Tigre had already been slapped once in the face for not bowing her head when speaking to either man that had transported them.

“You're learning fast, kitten," the man observed, giving her a kiss on the lips. “You might do okay at Blue Diamond after all." He smiled at her as he reached across and grabbed Trisha's wrist to check her pulse. The equine femme had been set up with an elaborate strapping method that supported her well and a cervical collar had been put on her to hold her head up straight. The man then closed the door to the van and walked around front, getting in the driver's seat. Firing up the engine, he headed off across the tarmac, towards a gate that led out to a main roadway.

Tigre couldn't quite make out where they were until they arrived at the dock area of a private marina about fifteen minutes later, the name of the facility indication to her the fact that they were in California at the moment. A man in a guard shack waved them through so the bald man drove them to a dock where two men wearing Blue Hawaii-style security uniforms were waiting. One of the guards, the taller one, opened the side door to the van, his purpose was to unlock Tigre's wrist chain for her.

Hey there, pretty kitty, unbuckle your seatbelt and get out, please?" he asked, seeming to be a nice person. “Go stand over there, by that other guard. I'll be right with you." She followed his requests, seeing that she had no way to get these wrist cuffs off to escape them. She observed him unfasten Trisha's strapping and lift her out of the vehicle by himself, noting the fact that he was almost seven feet tall and well-muscled. If her wrists weren't restrained, she knew she could take him, though. She had the strength of several men, unimpeded by her failsafe that had been disabled.

She followed the two men down to a boat, an older but nicely kept sedan cruiser and followed them on board. They went into the cabin where the tall man sat Trisha down on the couch, strapping her in for the ride. He motioned for the tigress to sit by her traveling mate so she did, allowing him to lock her wrist chain to the seat again.

“You know, kitten, you seem pretty tame to me," he stated, sitting down by her while the craft started to get underway. “I might want to spend some time with you, If I can find the time to." She cringed, not wishing to have some casual sex with him. Unless he was real special, she really needed to know a man before she went to bed with him. He stood up, his intention was to go to the bar to fix himself a soft drink. “We should be there in a little bit, kitten. Would you like something to drink?"

“May I have some water, please?" she asked, noting her throat was very parched at the moment.

The guard poured her up a glass of ice water and brought it over to her. He unlocked one wrist so she could sip her refreshment without his help. That was when he put his hand on her knee, squeezing it gently.

“You know, you're a very pretty lady," he said casually, sipping his cola. “I'm not interested in hurting you, I just think I would like an evening with you, that's all."

“I'm not sure I'm in a position to refuse you," Tigre proffered up as a tear rolled down her cheek.

“Look, don't cry," the guard said softly, wiping a tear from her cheek. “If you don't want to have sex with me, that's okay. I just thought you might like a quiet evening with a man that likes your company."

“Well, maybe that would be fine, then," she said softly, looking down at her drink. At least there would be one time she wouldn't be raped if he came to see her.

***

The boat finally reached its destination, a man-made island with a huge resort on it. Tigre was led with a leash up to an entrance marked 'Performers Only', waiting momentarily while the taller guard used a pass card to open it for them. Trisha was on a gurney, lightly strapped down so they could move her to wherever the guards were taking them. They walked for a little ways through the resort until they approached a juncture in the hallway that looked like a reception area. For some weird reason, Tigre felt like she had been here before.

“Hey Burt, are those the ladies scheduled in for today? I thought there were four coming in?" the woman behind the desk asked as she looked up at them, running a hand through her dark brown hair.

“Yeah, we just came from the marina with them. There were just the two of them, though," he replied, putting some paperwork on the counter for her. The shorter blond-haired man that was with Burt went behind the desk to get himself a cup of coffee.

“What's with the equine?" the lady asked, Tigre noting her name tag said 'Nancy Turnbull' when she got close to the front counter. Even that name seemed familiar to her.

“Um, I guess 'Miss Pissy-Hooves' here, wouldn't get on the plane so they shocked her," the tall man proffered up.

“What did they do, blow out her implants?" Nancy asked, looking somewhat concerned at the situation.

“Don't think so, Nancy. They still access just fine according to the doctor in Hawaii. They might have used a box on her after they shocked her." Burt pointed out. The female used a probe, asking for access to Trisha's implants. Tigre even felt that request, the power level was that high. Nancy nodded, pleased with what she saw on the display of her diagnostic tool. She motioned for a med-tech to come look at Trisha while the tall guard took the tigress down to a room, putting her inside.

He gently pushed Tigre over to one of two mats on the floor, pointing for her to sit down. He took a locking carabiner and put it through the loops on her ankle bands, preventing her from walking at all. He then gently removed the chain from her wrists and used another carabiner to fasten her wrists behind her.

“Sorry kitten, it's regulations," he said with a sad look on his face. “You don't seem like the fighting type to me but I have to do it," he said to her, giving her a kiss. “Your friend will be put in here with you shortly." He then left the room and quietly closed the door behind him, locking Tigre in for the duration.

After about an hour, the shorter guard opened the door and roughly shoved Trisha through the door, still out but now reeking of semen. Human semen. She had her ankles and wrists done in a similar fashion but Trish had two glaring additions; a gag and muzzle were strapped tightly to her face. Things at the moment seemed to be going from bad to worse for them.

***

“Trisha? Trisha! Trisha, wake up!" the tigress said very quietly, hoping she could wake the still form lying on the floor next to her. The mare had been out for quite a long time, ever since she had been put on a plane with her traveling partner.

“I cah ear ou," was the mare's reply as she finally opened her eyes, finding it very hard to talk while gagged with a breathe-through gag and muzzled up on top of that. She sat up against the wall, squinting from the bright light, giving her wrists a cursory tug to see that they really were bound together behind her. She could see her ankles were bound too, with a locking carabiner between her ankle bands. Red ankle bands. She looked over to see Tigre had red leather too with the same style of carabiner between her ankle bands.

“Trish, if you lean against my chest, I might be able to get that muzzle off of you," Tigre suggested, allowing Trisha to scoot closer to her so the feline chimera could attempt to do so. In the process of getting situated, Trisha noted she still had her Claddagh ring on her right ring finger. Tigre used her teeth to worry the strap out of the buckle, tugging it to get it to come loose. After a few false starts, the muzzle fell free.

“Yuck!" Trisha said sourly after pushing the latex rubber gag from her maw. The muzzle they had used on her had nose plugs made into it, blocking her sinus passages. Now that she could smell her environment, she could make out the distinct aroma of fresh human spunk on her body. And her ass hurt real bad.

“Are you okay?" the tigress asked, leaning against her friend. “I was worried those guards hurt you yesterday when we got here."

“Where the hell are we? Do you have any idea?" Trish asked, looking around herself. This was bad because this looked like a brothel to her. Maybe one like Blue Hawaii. There were two thin sleeping mats on the floor and four stainless steel bowls by the wall, food and water for them. The wall had a water spout as well, one shaped like a horse cock. A very long horse cock. There was a sign over the spout that said 'Touch nose here', pointing to a metal switch pad over the spout. That bothered her greatly. Checking her body over, she related her condition to the tigress. “Um, I seem to be unharmed for the most part, Claudette except I'm in a lot of pain."

“They used some sort of shock gloves on you while we were still in Hawaii at the airport. You went out like a light." the tigress related to her partner. Trisha remembered now, knowing she was probably hit real hard, maybe stun level six or higher. At least it didn't reset her main cerebral implant. Tigre then told the mare what she thought about the situation. “I hate to tell you this, Trisha but I'm pretty sure we're at Blue Diamond."

Oh Hell No!" Trisha spat out, looking at her surroundings. “Look, Tigre, go along with anything they want until I can talk with their Master and get us out of this mess." She looked at the floor as she added, “You might get whipped in the process. I'm sorry, Tigre." the tigress nodded, having given that some thought too. They both heard footsteps down the hall, stopping in front of the door, unlocking it.

“Good morning, ladies," the guard said in a sarcastic tone as he came into the room with his partner. Guard number one was tall, not bad looking, rather skinny. Tigre recognized him from the previous day as the one that had handled Trisha so roughly. He was wearing shock gloves, set to a high stun level by Tigre's estimations. The feline femme could sense the high electrical potential with her sensors in her muzzle.

His partner that was with him was shorter and very robustly built. He would be a worthy opponent for her, given the chance. The first guard had no markings on his sleeves but the shorter guard had chevrons that were like an army Sergeant's rank insignia. He had on shock gloves too, not energized. He was carrying some hobble chains in his hands, aluminum eighteen inch pieces by the looks. Tigre tried her best to hide behind Trisha.

“Listen up, ladies, don't try anything funny while Larry puts hobble chains on you," the first guard said, lightly brushing Trisha's cheek with a finger. It was enough of a charge to really sting like hell.

“Okay, Sir, we won't try anything funny, just please don't shock me again, Sir? That really hurt," Trisha pleaded, hoping he might be compassionate. It wasn't her lucky day. The guard grabbed her right shoulder firmly, laughing as she shrieked in pain. There was a smell of ozone and burning hair in the air.

“Just shut your pie-hole, bitch and I won't shock you again," he said very darkly as he let go of her, giving them a hard stare. Trisha slumped over against Tigre, seeing stars in her vision from the shock. She couldn't barely feel her shoulder or arm at all, just a burning pain where her shoulder should have been.

“Jesus, Steve, did ya have to do that to her? She was only trying to tell you she understood," his partner stated, looking at Steve with concern. “Man, what an asshole. No wonder you're on probation," he spat out, looking at the mare with compassionate eyes. “Steve, please don't give me an excuse," he muttered under his breath, getting their hobbles in place.

Larry lifted them up, getting the two ladies standing. Trisha leaned against the wall for support while the world spun around her and her stomach churned slightly.

“What's the matter, horsie lady? Not feeling well?" Steve said sourly, reaching out to shock her again. Larry grabbed his wrist firmly, looking at the display on Steve's glove as he stopped him from shocking Trisha again.

“What the fuck? Level ten stun?" Larry spat out, looking at the taller guard. “You know that can kill if you shock them too close to their heads, asshole!" he said sourly, giving the guard an evil look. “Unplug those gloves now!"

“Fuck You! These are my personal gloves and ..." Larry cut him off.

“I don't give a shit if those were Mr. Bischer's personal gloves, either take them off or get your ass kicked, fuckwad! You're still on double probation, you stupid shithead!" Steve reached for Trisha again but Larry moved in a flash, slugging his partner in the gut. That bent the guard over but Steve grabbed his nightstick, coming back up with it. Steve met Larry's fist with his face. His face lost.

Steve fell to the floor hard but his stout partner added a steel-toed boot to the ribs for effect. Tigre was sure she heard ribs crack when he did that.

“You take those fucking gloves off and apologize to the lady before I kick your skull in! You're a bad apple that I'll personally see fired today if you don't do it right fucking now!!" The taller guard began to get up only to meet Larry's fist again. “Get those gloves off because I'll just keep punching you until you do, motherfucker!" Steve knew he was bested, taking off his jacket, then the gloves and finally releasing the powerpack from his waist. Larry grabbed them, looking at his partner on the floor. “Now say your sorry to her or I might let her shock the shit out of ya, ya ass wipe."

“You and the horse bitch can both go to hell! I ain't saying I'm sorry and there's no fuckin' way in hell she'll get to shock me!" he spat back, obviously not going to say he was sorry. She was a just a red collar performer, after all. Trisha then felt her wrists being released for her. Larry snapped a long leash to her collar and attached it to the wall , right before he removed her wrist bands. Before she understood what was happening, he was handing her the gloves.

“I've always wanted to see this," Larry stated, smiling as he helped her on with the gloves and powerpack. She surprised him by activating the voice recognition software before he could.

“Gloves off on level shock stun one two three four five six seven eight nine ten, disable kill setting," she said slowly, a green light coming on by the wrist display, letting her know her voice commands were accepted. “What do you want me to do to him, Sir?" she asked, looking at the burly guard for direction. The guard on the floor was unarmed and no match for Trisha at the moment. Larry took her hobble chain off of her and got the leash in his hand.

“He's had this coming for a long time, lady. Do what you want to him, just don't mark him up." was his direction. She smiled, nodding her head.

“As you wish, Sir." she replied, then she turned to the prone guard, smiling an evil smile. “Take off your pants and anything else below the waist, asshole." she directed in a dark tone. He took off his pants, then his cup. She knelt between his legs, touching his cock, which was getting hard most likely due to her naked body being so close to him. Trish knelt down, licking him, taking him in her mouth and sucking on his hard-on. She could tell now that it was his spunk that she smelled on herself earlier. Once she had him hard, she sat back up, firmly gripping his wet cock in one hand and his balls in the other.

“NO!" the guard pleaded, gritting his teeth. “Please! No, not that! I'm sorry already! Please don't ..." His pleas were falling on deaf equine ears.

“Gloves, level two shock, On." The man screamed in a very high octave as he convulsed on the floor, Trisha holding him until Larry tapped her on the shoulder with his billy club more than several seconds later. “How do you like me now?" she asked sarcastically, then said, “Gloves, Off," as she stood up. She then turned to Larry and said, “Sir, would you help me take these off, please?"

Larry helped her remove the gloves and powerpack but she surprised him again by putting the hobble chain back on her ankles without being asked and turning around so he could hook her wrists up again.

“You seem like you know what you're doing, lady," Larry stated, looking at her somewhat confused by all of this while he put her wrist bands and the carabiner back in place. She had a chance to shock him and didn't take it, then put her hobbles back on by herself and allowed him to hook her wrists back up. This didn't add up at all.

Trisha turned to face Larry and give him a pensive smile. “It's a long story how I know about all of this, Sir but what I'm hoping for right now is a shit and a shower. I'm really ripe smelling and I need to use the can, Sir." He nodded, leading them both out of their room, locking Steve inside to stew for a bit.

“Okay, let's get you two to the toilet and the showers and you can tell me your stories while you're cleaning up."

***

Trisha and Tigre stood under the showers, letting the hot water beat down on them. The equine female was letting it help her to get her shoulder working properly again, since it was still tingling from being shocked so hard. It didn't help the energy went from her shoulder, through her arm, then her hand to the floor, made from stainless steel.

“So, you're telling me you both work at Blue Hawaii as Tamers?" Larry asked, standing by the showers while they cleaned up. “How in the hell did you end up here?" he asked, totally confused by this since they would have to have been purchased by Blue Diamond with legitimate ownership papers.

“Well, we were driving my little red Cobra into town to go 'girls only' shopping when a punk cop pulled us over and arrested us because he didn't like our ownership papers. Before we knew it, we were being taken to the airport by a white guy that was assisted by these two huge Samoan guys and put on a plane to San Diego, I guess. This is Blue Diamond, isn't it?" The guard nodded, thinking over their story. This was a new one for him, a pair of self-owning chimeras that had been kidnapped.

“Yeah, that's when they hit Trisha with those shock gloves. She didn't want to get on the plane so they 'helped' her." the tigress elaborated. Tigre was really hoping in her heart they would get out of this soon. This was the last thing on her mind, to live out the rest of her life in an extreme sex brothel.

“Listen, girls, I'll talk to the boss about this. You both sound pretty convincing." Larry was hoping they were telling the truth about this. “Until then, you'll still have to go with the program, as much as that sounds somewhat unappealing to you."

“Um, is there some way to at least get upgraded to black collar status?" the dark mare asked, “We were tamers at Blue Hawaii and I hate to think how the red collar girls are treated like here." Larry gave that some thought, wondering what to do. If they were new girls, they couldn't possibly know about the color of the leather they wore.

“Erm, you know what, let me make a call here, ladies." He clipped a temporary waterproof collar to each one of them, giving them a long enough leash so they could get out of the shower and dry off. He left the room, hopefully to make a phone call that would confirm this wild, unusual story.

***

The girls finished their showers and were in the middle of drying off when the guard made his way back into the room.

“Well, let me hook you up and then I'll get you some food, not that shit in the bowls. The boss said he'll see you in a little bit." Trisha was relieved that they were getting an audience with Blue Diamond's Master so quickly. Trisha put her hobble chain back on by herself and helped Tigre with hers, then hooked the tigress' wrists together before putting hers behind her back for Larry to do her up.

“Gah, this is so weird!" Larry commented, turning Trisha to face him. “Put your hands in front of you," he asked, putting an eighteen inch chain on her wrist bands. “You are just freaking me out, lady," he said, giving Tigre's wrists the same treatment before he removed both of their hobbles.

“You can call me Trisha and her name is Tigre, Sir," she told him, bowing her head slightly.

“Well, OK then, You're Trisha and she's Tigre. Come on, let's go get you fed."

***

Mace and Chuck were sitting in his office, trying to make heads and tails out of this situation. Mace had finally found and retrieved Trisha's Cobra by flying over the private impound yards with his helicopter, Ed helping to search with him.

“Mace, I've called all the other Blue brothels just in case they've been kidnapped or something like that. I still haven't heard back from Blue Diamond or Blue London." Mace nodded, knowing Chuck had done a lot to try to find them.

“What about that group you told Ed about, ICON, the task force that took down Blue Diamond? Would they help us out?" Mace asked, trying to think of anything else to do. “I suppose I should go out and troll the brothels, maybe finding them that way."

“I'll tell you what, Mace. I'll call the police into this. It was a cop that had Patricia's car impounded so they might know what happened to them." The two men finally shook hands and parted company, Mace headed back home for now while Chuck headed for the local police department.

Mace began to head towards home but stopped before he got out to the street, thinking about this situation. He decided to swing by The Islander Bar, hoping his head mechanic was still there, nursing his Jack and Coke. He drove across town, trying to avoid the heavily traveled streets. Once he arrived at his destination, he pulled into the parking lot, spotting Brett Marshall's 1967 Pontiac Tempest in the lot, near the entrance.

Mace parked Trisha's Cobra and set the alarm after he got out. Wandering inside, he found Brett sitting at the bar, a half-downed glass in front of him.

“Hi, Brett. Just the man I wanted to see," he said, sitting down beside the mechanic. Getting the bartender's attention, he pointed at Brett's drink, holding up a finger to indicate he wanted the same.

“Hi, Mason. What brings you here?" he asked, giving his boss a pat on the shoulder.

“Brett, I hate to ask this of you." he replied. “I know you have 'connections' here in town. I need to find two missing girls." Brett looked at the bar, giving it some thought, pursing his lips as he mulled this over.

“It's about that chimera you fell head over heels for, isn't it?" he asked, looking at his boss. “I know it's serious if you're asking me for help." Mace nodded, not happy with the situation. He knew Brett had connections that were shady, to say the least. He used to run with a motorcycle club until he lost both legs below the knees in a horrendous crash. It was rumored he was the muscle for the club.

“Yeah Brett, it's her and her friend that we're looking for. They went missing a day ago and there hasn't been a trace of them since." Mace gave him a picture that he had taken with his camera phone of the three girls standing in front of his tank. “Trisha's the black mare and the other missing one is the tigress." Brett nodded, looking at the picture in his hands.

“Hey, that tigress is a real looker, Mace." he commented. “Does she have claws, too?" That thought made him get goosebumps down his arms. A beautiful and dangerous woman in the same package.

“Yeah, she has claws on her hands and feet both," he related, sipping his drink. “Listen, whatever it takes, see what you can find out for me. I can pay you your wages while you take time off to help me out."

“No, you won't have to do that," he retorted, putting the picture in his shirt pocket. “Let me make a few calls, boss. I should have something for you in the morning." Mace sat there, sipping his drink some more just to settle his mind. He got up to leave, noting that Brett still had about half of a glass in front of him.

“Thanks, Brett, I owe you big time." Mace turned and left the bar, with Brett watching him through the windows as his boss drove out of the parking lot. The former biker pulled out his cell phone from his pocket, poked around for the right number and made an important call.

“Hey Freddie, This is Brett. Is Cruiser hanging out in the clubhouse? I'm looking for some information on a pair of missing chimerae ..."

***

The two women were kneeling in front of Master, a tall, dark-haired man with ice-blue eyes and a buffed physique. He tapped their ears, letting them stand.

“Larry told me this fanciful story you girls spun for him," Master stated, walking around behind Trisha, cupping her breasts with his hands, teasing her nipples. “Why would I buy the two of you from your Master if you were self-owning?" he asked, running his hands down her taut, powerful body, feeling her muscles just under the skin. He put his hands on her groin, pulling her close to him. She could feel his cock through his sweatpants, pressed up against her butt cheeks, rock hard and ready to penetrate her if he so chose to. “You are a very powerful woman, indeed."

“Master, it's a mistake, I'm telling you. We don't belong here." Trisha tried to point out. He thought about that for a moment while he teased her nipples, as if digesting that information. He went to stand in front of Tigre, giving her a kiss on the lips.

“I purchased you two fairly, I'll have you know." Master told them. He reached between the tigress' legs, rubbing her mound. “My, you're a prize, Millicent," he stated, nuzzling against her cheek while he rubbed her clit, making her moan in response.

“My name is Claudette Lynn Hunter but I go either by Lynn Hunter or my stage name, Tigre, Master," she retorted breathily, causing him to look at her strangely.

“Tigre?" he asked, the tigress feeling a short range request from another interface trying to access her implant. “You can't be our Tigre," he said, sitting down on the edge of his desk while he pondered this. She then received several more requests, higher in power this time, using various override codes that wouldn't work with her model. Brandon 60's and up had that feature blocked if they were self-owning. Momentarily an older, balding man came into the room, Master nodding at him and motioning to the females with his hand.

“I'm the General Manager here," the elder man said as he walked up to the girls, stopping right in front of them. “You're telling me you're not Millicent Archer?" he asked Tigre, crossing his arms in front of himself. Trisha almost giggled because he looked too much like Jeff Dunham's puppet Walter, the grouchy old man. The thought crossed her mind, wondering if he said 'Dumb Ass' a lot.

“No Sir, I am not Millicent Archer. I'm Claudette Lynn Hunter." the tigress replied. The manager arched his eyebrow at her response, which was making Trisha almost lose it. He was the human doppelgänger of Walter in the flesh. Voice and all.

“I suppose you're not Tracy Pierson, either," the man asked Trisha, shocking her with that question.

“Um, no, Sir, I'm not her." Trisha replied. “I was told Tracy was gunned down a few years back in operation Desert Lockdown, Sir. She was the next serial number down from me." Trisha swallowed hard, remembering her 'sister's' infectious laugh. “I'm Patricia Marie Pollard."

“Hmm, there's something really fishy going on here," he commented, getting a Ident Scanner from a drawer and powering it up. He checked their CID ident chips in their left hands, finding the females were possibly not lying to him about their identities. The manager then looked at their hands closely, making sure there was no sign of recent surgery to implant new Chimera Identification Device chips. He thought for a minute, thinking about how to handle this. “So I'm to understand you both work for Blue Hawaii as tamers and you're both self-owning?"

“That's what we're trying to tell you, Sir," Trisha stated, giving him a pensive smile. He looked at the floor while he pondered this; what to do, what to do ...

“Sir, if you'll just call our boss Chuck Waddell, he'll confirm what we've told you," Tigre suggested, hoping he would understand her reasoning. He nodded, giving that some thought. The manager then looked over at Master, who seemed very confused by all of this. Master had to be a chimera meat puppet by the way he was acting. Some of this information was obviously in conflict with his baseline programming.

“Get these ladies some clothing and give them a double suite while I figure this out," he directed Master, who then lost that confused look on his face. The GM was thinking that they had to be tamers if they knew Chuck well enough to ask him to call his counterpart for corroboration.

“Yes Sir, I'll see to setting them up personally," Master replied, looking at the two females in a different way now. Things made sense to him now that he had direction from the manager. He quickly knelt down and removed their hobble chains that he had placed on them and released their wrists. “Patricia, Claudette, follow me." He headed for the door, the two females right behind him. Before they got out the door, the manager got their attention.

“While you ladies are here, once I confirm your status, would it be asking too much of you to ask you to work, just a bit? We only have one trainer and one tamer right now." The girls nodded, agreeing to help out if they could.

***

Trisha was sitting on the couch in their suite, taking a break from what she was doing while Tigre tried adjusting her thong again. The leather crafters here couldn't hold a candle to Bill Waterman and his crew of leather specialists. His workmanship was superior in every way to this crap she had in her hands. Trisha didn't much care for the fit of her thong either but it would have to do. Hopefully they would be going home tomorrow at the latest.

“I'm sorry, Trisha, this thong fits like crap," the tigress commented, cinching up the crotch strap a little in back to see if that changed the way it fit on her. If anything, it made it worse.

“Nice living suites here but the wardrobe is abysmal," Trisha replied. “Just look at the stitching on my bustier. It's crooked here and there's loose threads everywhere." She had a small pair of scissors, trimming the threads off of her garment. “Even the scissors here suck." They were just barely better than a pair meant for little children.

While Trisha was clipping the last of the threads from her bustier, there came a knock at the door. The femme equine chimera got up and answered the door, finding a guard outside.

“Miss Pollard?" he asked, looking at her questioningly.

“That's me," she replied, giving him a smile.

“Dr. Wilkins wants to see you. He heard you had been shocked several times real hard so he wanted to check you over."

“Sure, let me put on my bustier and I'll go with you."

***

Trisha got dressed and followed the guard down to the infirmary, noting there were quite a few performers there, resting after being whipped. It seemed to her that the performers had a lot of white antiseptic dust on their fur, much more than she was used to seeing. These girls apparently had all been whipped real hard. She followed the guard as he went into an office off to the side where a middle-aged man in a medical lab coat was sitting at a desk.

“Hello, I'm Dr. Wilkins," he stated, motioning for her to follow him into another room. There was equipment in this room normally used to check out a chimera's implants. “Have a seat, Patricia. I need to run a diagnostic on you," he told her, motioning to the chair, used for restraining a chimera during a diagnostic. It was known that they might possibly convulse hard from the procedure so this was a method to protect the chimera from hurting themselves.

“You're going to be gentle, right?" she asked, hoping this wouldn't leave her with a splitting headache afterward. He looked at her, smiling slightly.

“I'll try to take it easy on you, honey." he replied. “Give me a minute to strap you down and we'll get this over with." He strapped her wrists down, putting his finger between her wrists and the straps to keep them from being too tight. He then put the wide waist strap around her, then he did up her thighs and ankles. “Do you want a rubber mouth guard to bite on?" he asked, waiting for her reply.

“No, I'll be fine. I've never bit my tongue before," she replied, taking a deep breath. She hated these diagnostic checks because they could be a bit uncomfortable. Another man came into the room, most likely the computer technician that would actually run the diagnostics. He sat down at the computer that was in her peripheral vision, bringing up the interface program that he would use on her.

She allowed the low level request to interface from him, 'listening' to her implant talk to the computer. Her fingers on her right hand twitched a few times, the diagnostic checking her neural pathways for damage. She then felt a deeper request, using a code that wouldn't function with her model followed by several more in rapid succession. That request series was slightly painful because they were asking for admin rights access to her main implant that were blocked, not accessible unless she specifically allowed it. That level of access was not necessary for a diagnostics checkout.

“Dr. Wilkins, just like I suspected, I can't get in," the computer operator stated, trying another series of codes. “I can't access her base programming at all. I'm totally locked out." The doctor looked at the display, frowning.

“Try the standard back door codes," the doctor suggested. The tech looked up at him, shaking his head.

“I've already tried that. Those codes don't function, most likely because she's self-owning." This situation really bothered the doctor. He had never had to deal with a self-owning chimera before so this was all-new territory for him. He was too used to the old way of forcing access if they didn't allow it, which was most of the time here at Blue Diamond.

“Can't you just ask her to give you her code?" Dr. Wilkins asked, looking at the file hierarchy in her main processor on the screen. It really didn't look right to him but what was wrong wasn't obvious.

“She doesn't have a code to give me, Sir. Do you see a folder marked '#339564ri7f-87H-a' in her processor programming?" the tech asked, pointing to the empty folder labeled 'disabled' in the tree. “Dr. Karl Wainwright designed her brain so this is his legacy. He's a chimera activist so if a Brandon signs her ownership papers, giving ownership to herself, that code file automatically gets replaced in all models higher than a model 59 Brandon. That was when he went to work for Brandon, Sir."

The technician then clued him in on another snippet of information. “She can function even if all of her implants get damaged or become non-functional, Sir. You wouldn't know it to talk with her after a Nuclear Electro-Magnetic Pulse event but the organic part of her mind would be just like ours. Fully functional with no change in personality. That was to make her kind the ultimate battle chimera."

“Well, let's say for argument's sake I wanted to hack her implants. Can't you replace that empty file with a hackable file?" Dr. Wilkins asked, still trying to do something to her but whatever it was, she didn't understand. She finally decided to make her feelings known to them because she was getting tired of the very painful probing of her implants. This was beginning to make her feel very violated by them.

“You just don't get it, do you, Doctor?" she asked through gritted teeth. “You can't hack my mind because my mind belongs to me and me alone. I'm not some Golemtech, Indiana Mil-Tec or a North American Biotechnology model that you can hack to your heart's content. I don't have an unprotected reset or a back door now that I'm self-owning, if that's what you're looking for."

“She's kidding, isn't she?" the doctor asked, looking at her with a concerned look on his face.

“No sir, she's very serious." the tech responded. “I can't hack her implants because she's self owning. She has to willingly release her base programming code to me which is under 512 bit encryption. Nobody can just casually or even forcefully hack their way in."

The doctor removed a small black device from a drawer that had a keypad, an LCD display, some lights and a green button on it. He consulted a booklet from the device's manufacturer, typing in a four digit code from a page marked “Brandon Biotech Models 60 through 91". He held it over her head, watching a red LED on it light up to his dismay. The display on the box and the display in Trish's visual cortex both began scrolling this message;

Trisha then observed another five lines of text from her main processor that were displayed for her edification only, not visible to others.

< Rogue access device ID #398562 should be neutralized for your safety if at all possible>

Trisha shuddered as she read the last lines, the thought that someone had in their possession what was affectionately called a 'Jimmy Box' and tried to use it on her. Even if it wasn't being used maliciously, it still gave her the willies, having been subjected to a fifteen minute reset at Brandon, just so she would know what could and would happen during a reset event should she make the dire mistake of allowing a rogue device access. She felt maybe she should heed the warning from her main implant and actually destroy that box before she left Blue Diamond. She had observed which drawer Dr. Wilkins had removed it from and it wasn't a locked drawer, either.

Meanwhile, the doctor was talking to himself about what he had just observed, much to his consternation. “Geez, that code should have gotten me right in," the doctor mused, looking at the display as he wrote down the phone number before putting the device away. That's when Trisha tried to convince him he was wasting his time with her.

“That's exactly the reason why Brandon models 60 and up are so desirable for the battlefield; we can't be hacked or reset by enemy forces, even using broad spectrum high power RedTooth. Even if I weren't self owning, I would have still had to allow that session, which I wouldn't have done. My implants would have recognized it as a rogue box and stopped the session cold, even if I were unconscious." Trisha told them. “My particular model didn't go over well because some joker at Brandon thought we would be better with hooves. That was the only thing about my model that might have been a flaw but I do just fine with my hooves, thank you. I can outrun any human and I wouldn't trade them for feet any day."

“How about the tigress? Can she be hacked?" the doctor asked, staring at Trisha's file hierarchy again.

“Nope, she's a Brandon 61, Dr. Wilkins. Her implants have the same base features and programming. She's not like those four Mark 10-F Reynard's that came through here years ago, right before this place burned down." Dr. Wilkins nodded, thinking this over. The tech then passed some more information along to the kindly medical man. “You know, Doc, that's why some countries don't like the Mark 10-F Reynards; they're tough, resourceful Dix-Vixes but they're too easy to hack into. It only takes me about two minutes to hack a 10-F Reynard below revision 3.1 into a diagnostic reset loop, making their internal clock reset every few minutes."

“Is it possible you can you give me her lock date?" Dr. Wilkins asked, looking over at the mare. “I think that's what Mr. Bischer really wants to know about her."

“Yeah, it was a Wednesday, uh, last week in fact. That's what the replaced file folder says for a creation date." The doctor nodded again, thinking this over some more.

“Well, at least we know she's not lying about her identity. Go ahead and run a background low level diagnostic, just to make sure her implants are functioning properly after being shocked so hard." He turned to Trisha, holding her hand momentarily. “Sorry about that, Patricia. We had to make sure you were who you said you were." She smiled at him, now understanding the rough treatment. They wanted to be sure she wasn't Tracy Pierson after all. Even though it shouldn't have affected her, the thought of Tracy's death still made tears come to her eyes.

“Sir, about the tigress," the technician asked, looking at him with a crooked smile on his mug. “Do I need to check her out too?"

“Just a quick check, that's all. She didn't get hit by the shock gloves so all I need is her lock date. You might be able to do that with a hand held scanner." The doctor looked back at Trisha and smiled. “This is just a routine low level diagnostic, honey. It won't hurt at all." He loosened her wrist restraints, allowing her to slip her hands free of them if she wanted to. Setting a cold bottled water on a table within her reach for her, he left the room, headed back to his other work.

“My name's Jeff McAfee and it will take me about an hour to run this diagnostic, Ma'am," the tech told her. “You can recline the chair back a bit if you want to."

She used the controls on the side, down by the seat to recline the chair back some, getting snuggled in for the duration. She adjusted the band around her waist to be a little more comfortable, leaned her head back against the headrest then closed her eyes, giving thought to being home with Mace soon.

***

The technician stepped outside the room once he had the diagnostic up and running. The doctor was still musing to himself about what had just transpired.

“Penny for your thoughts?" the tech stated, noting Dr. Wilkins was deep in thought.

“Oh, I was just thinking, Jeff, that's why I don't care for the newer Brandon models." he replied.

“Why is that?" the tech asked, curious now about the Doctor's thoughts.

“Those Brandons are just too much like humans. You know, how they think, their emotions, things like that. Even after they're tamed to black collar status, they seem ... defiant in a way. I can't imagine how out of hand Miss Pollard must be as a tamer."

“I dunno, Doc. There must be something to it if Dr. Wainwright still works for Brandon." Mr. McAfee pointed out. “Besides, Brandons 60 and up are very thoughtful, intellectual designs. They have a high baseline IQ compared to the other makers, their organic brain is capable of full independent function and they have a very developed sense of humor. I also think they're fun to be around because of that independent streak they have."

Dr. Wilkins looked through the window in the wall between his office and the exam room at Trisha, apparently comfortable while the routine diagnostic ran its course.

“It's just my opinion, Jeff but I still don't care for their kind. Too much like humans. Especially if they're self-owning."

***