Deep Conditioning
#2 of Bitch Training
This story series is a collaboration between myself and the incredible Draconicon . This one was commissioned from him. You can find the series on his profile here.
Draconicon is one of my favorite writers, and I've been very happy to work so closely with him on these stories.
I never thought that I'd prefer the Punishment Post to anything else, but this...this is a whole new hell.
Grunting as the chip kicks in again, I strain to keep the images from forming in the back of my head. They always start slow, like some old film that's been repeated too many times, gradually clarifying over the few seconds that it takes to load. The technology's pretty damn good; if the entertainment sector ever got hold of it, theaters would be fucked over for damn sure.
It's no use. It never is, with this damn chip. I can already feel a collar around my neck, even though that's impossible. There's nothing on me, no clothes, no collar, not even an accessory or two. Only...
Remember where you are, Henry, I think to myself. You're not...not on the street. You're not in the box. You're in a fucking medical cell. They're trying to -
A hard shock hits me from the back of my head, and shoots all the way down my spine until I'm screaming at the top of my lungs. It hurts, it hurts! I can smell my own skin frying for a moment before it stops, and I sag down into my bindings again. A tiny moment of respite, my brain empty of that fucking simulation before it starts up again.
The crackling images solidify faster this time, and I can't help but imagine that I'm starting to move my arms and legs. It's impossible, I know that for a fact. They're tied down with thick leather restraints, my forepaws and hinds locked down, and my head restrained with several ropes behind it to a muzzle. There's no moving.
Yet, I feel like I am, anyway.
Pavement, concrete beneath my paws. It's so definitely there, so firmly real.
It's not, it's not real! I'm still in a -
I howl at the top of my lungs, muffled into the muzzle as the shock comes again, streaking down my arms this time. It's getting worse and worse with every repetition of defiance, and I'm starting to wonder if they even care if I live through the training.
Maybe. I'm pregnant, after all, and there's few enough of those.
Still, I doubt it'll matter if I keep fighting them. I need...I need to keep myself sane. Maybe...maybe just a few tries, without fighting. Just to see the difference.
The simulation starts again, the pavement under my paws again. I can feel my legs walking along, a pressure at my neck, and I slowly look up to see a leash running down from someone's hand. It connects to a collar that keeps tugging into my neck, and someone above me calls, shouting 'come, girl.'
I'm not a girl, no matter what they've done to me, but I come anyway.
As soon as I choose to follow the order, I shiver. No shock this time, but something beyond bliss. I slump forward a little, my 'walking' getting more difficult as I feel a tingle deep in my belly, almost running down to -
Mmmph...don't...please...don't -
Another shock, taking away everything I just had. The pleasure's gone, and replacing it is fiery pain, everywhere. I scream and try and pull myself together, my teeth biting down on my tongue until it bleeds. It feels like fiery pokers smacking into me again and again, from all sides, and I can't get away. I can't get away!
I'm crying as it subsides, the simulation crackling to life again. Crying in reality and in the virtual world, I don't fight it this time. I walk when I'm told, and I come when I'm called. I don't even protest when they call me a 'girl.' The chip running the simulation doesn't shock me this time, but it doesn't reward me, either. Not yet, anyway.
The simulated person pulls me along, and I walk along with them, moving at a pretty good trot. It's not that hard, as a Type III, to stay on all fours. It almost feels natural. Almost too natural, but I don't think about that for long, not wanting to risk another shock from the chip.
The longer the simulation goes on, the more real it becomes. We step off of the sidewalk and into the park, and I can feel the grass under my paws. It's soft and wet, like there's been a rainstorm recently, and I almost wish I was human so I could squelch my toes in it. I settle for stretching when we stop, pushing my paws into it instead.
My leash-holder takes me further into the park, around other bestials and ferals. Everyone seems to be taking their dogs for walks today, and I can feel a slight kinship with them. Almost. I still remind myself -
No, no, I don't. I pull away from that, holding that thought away as the simulation seems to flicker. I don't want that. I don't want to make it -
Mmmmmph!
It rewards me, and I shudder, almost collapsing in the simulation at the burst of pleasure that runs through me. It's beyond anything that I felt in the Punishment Post, better than any knot or dick that I'd taken. Shivering as it runs from my head to my spade - oh gods, my spade, already getting wet - I have to struggle to keep moving as my leash is tugged again.
It pulls me towards the center of the park, where several bestials are grooming their dogs. The most advanced is a Type V, and I almost don't notice he is one until I take a deep breath. The scent is the only thing that gives him away from the other humans.
It doesn't matter. He turns with the others, looking down at me. One of the others, a poodle Type IV, chuckles to himself, and nudges the third bestial, a Rottweiler Type III.
"Looks like we got a bitch, here."
My tender doesn't say anything. Probably because there's nothing to say. Out of the Punishment Post, the rules say that I'm supposed to submit to all bestials and ferals without exception. I can already feel myself warming at the idea, and I hate it.
I tense for a shock, but none comes. Perhaps hate is okay, as long as I still have other good mentalities.
One of them walks up to me, and I don't dare get off of all fours. I hold as still as possible, even as the poodle Type IV slides a finger beneath my body. I feel him flicking several nipples on the way down to the space between my hind legs, and shiver as his claw presses against the tiny opening.
"She trained?"
"...Woof."
I can't help but bark for him, trying to impress the program, trying to -
Another burst of pleasure from the chip, and I slump down, my head and chest lowering to the park ground, and my rump rising higher. My tail flicks up and off to the side, and I can't help but hunch my hips when that clawed finger pushes itself deeper inside of me. It hurts, but I'm wet enough that it doesn't rip me open.
He forces it in further, the claw raking along my inner walls, and I desperately bite down, my jaws aching as I'm filled past what I should be taking, at least something like this. It's so furry that it burns with friction every time that it pulls in and out, and I whimper into the ground.
"She likes it, huh?"
"Bark, bark!"
Pretend I do. It's all I can do at this point, hoping that they don't get angry with me, that they won't use me in a worse way. I lift my hips up a little higher, tilting it so that my spade is the only thing worth fucking.
And as the chip rewards me, they take the hint.
One by one, the different bestials pull out their cocks. The Type V is going to be the easiest and hardest at the same time; his cock barely sticks out of anything like a sheath, and is almost human-shaped save for certain color differences. At the same time, bestials are meant to take bestials, and his strange cock will hurt more.
But, much as I expect them to ram themselves in, they don't. They stroke themselves, and slowly pull on their own leashes.
Ferals...
I stare as one of them walks his Great Dane over me, the dog an utter beast of a creature, with a cock to match. It looks big enough to rip me open a hundred times over, and the knot isn't even formed yet. He looms over me, standing with his dick pointing down towards my face until his owner drags him around.
"Heh, bet she'll make good pups for him. Mutts, but better that way."
I can't move. I don't dare move. The shocks will come if I do, and the last one left a burn I know I'll feel as soon as the simulation ends. I have to...I have to take it. I have to...I have to be a 'good girl' for the simulation.
The Dane moves up behind me, his paws wrapping around my hips. He's already hard, and his slick tip doesn't need much to slide right inside of me. My eyes almost bug out of my head as he slams in, pushing past my entrance with one hard thrust, and I...
I just whimper, laying my head down and hoping that it goes fast.
The chip rewards me again, blasting me with enough pleasure that I howl again, though this time not in pain. My juices are running down my hind legs, and my spade is spasming repeatedly around that feral cock. I can't catch my breath as he hammers in, even through the pain cumming harder than I remember ever cumming in my life.
It feels too damn good.
It's...it's a trap, I realize. Fear the pain, crave the pleasure. Can't...can't stop...
I realize my hips are moving on their own, forgetting the pain with the influence of the chip. It hurts, in the background, but I'm so wet and I'm so needy that I can't stop. I try, before I consider the consequences.
Pleasure turns to pain at the speed of light, and my heart feels like it stops as I scream my soul out.
The simulation fades again, and I can smell the smoke coming off of my fur. I'm burned, bad, but it's targeted. Not burning my belly, or my womb. They want the children alive.
Bury it...bury all the fear...don't think about it...just do what they say...be good...be good...
Fear is powerful, and I could fight it. Pain is powerful, too, and I might fight that.
But pleasure...pleasure is insidious, and I can't fight that. I don't want to. And I won't. Not with this alternative.