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I've been doing my best to try to clear my head lately... trying to convince myself that all this isn't my fault, but this body's fault. I mean, after all, none of these urges or control issues happened until after I was put in it. But even with that in mind, it's hard to keep my self esteem up... my fault or not, this is ME now, this is MY body...

They continued my normal routine of alternating between sex and torture, but now they were actively instructing me on technique and teaching me how to increase their pleasure and my own... In fact, that's why I haven't been writing too often lately, since there's really not much more that they've done to me that they haven't before, and repeating myself doesn't seem to really help much...

Regardless, my mental state has continued to decline... I've become afraid of the dark, afraid of the non-specific dangers that might be around me, despite my rational mind telling me that it's nonsense. My bed-wetting has only gotten worse, and I'm tired all the time, even though I spend most of my "free" time sleeping.

Even though I've given in to them, and I play the part of the timid little slut that they want me to, I'm sometimes wracked with panic attacks. Just... surges of fear and hysteria that I can't hardly control. Sometimes it's when I'm here, by myself, other times it's when I'm in the middle of getting fucked. All it really does is annoy my captors. They can't seem to figure out if I'm just acting out, or if I've really lost my mind.

Regardless, though, I've become addicted to sex and pain, both of them, and too much time without either makes me go stir-crazy and I can't keep myself from masturbating or tormenting my own clit and nipples... I wanna kill myself. It'd be easy, just make a little rope out of my blanket, slip it through my collar, and hang myself from the door handle.

But I'm a coward... I can't... I can't do it. I'm so scared.

I'd probably wind up being raped for eternity in Hell, anyway...

I don't really have much more to say today, honestly... I'm trying to hang in there, but it's difficult... At least in my dreams, I'm still normal... still happy.

---

Two days since my last entry.

Today, they fucked me silly once again. They had me thank them for their cum each time they sprayed or creamed me, and I obliged, as usual. They've been teaching me how to be a better sex slave, like making a sexy face when I'm waiting for them to cum on me, or waiting with my mouth open, stuff like that... My body seems naturally adept at using muscles I didn't even know I had, naturally squeezing and pulsing in a way that heightens pleasure for both parties. It at least saves me the trouble of them having to teach me. What scares me is... it's fun. It's fun getting fucked, and learning new ways.

I just keep becoming more and more disgusted with myself... Whenever they compliment me, or pet my head, it feels... nice. It makes me feel at least a little bit happy when they give me their approval or call me a "good girl". I've caught myself actually smiling, or even wagging my goddamn tail. When they prompt me, I'll beg for them, and sometimes I'll just do it by myself. I'll beg... I'll beg when I'm horny and desperate for pleasure. Like a whore.

In addition to punishing me for misbehaving, they've started rewarding my good behavior. When they took me back to my cell, as a reward for being so compliant today and begging like a proper slave, they've given me an actual bed. Or at least, a decent mattress with some pillows and blankets on it. Either way, it's much better than what I had before. I can't help but feel grateful.

In fact, sometimes I feel grateful for the treatment in general, and other times it horrifies me. I tend to swing wildly between craving sex, and then being absolutely repulsed by it with no rhyme or reason... When the repulsion starts up is usually when I start having a panic attack. I think at least some part of my rational mind is functional, and when it can express how horrified it is it does its damnedest.

I want to give up. It's just too hard now. I'd so much easier, I'd be so much happier. But I can't... This part of me, the one that keeps writing in this book, won't let go, even when I actively try to bury it. God forgive me, I'm just so tired. I just want the hurting to stop, that's all I want.

---

January 15

Well, at least I know today's date. Today, they took me on my first "walkie". For once, I think they're genuinely trying to help my obviously declining mental state. Though, trying to keep my self-esteem low and find a way to humiliate me in public also seemed to be a goal. Either way, for once, today was actually... pretty positive for me.

Ivan woke me up and pet my head. He stroked my hair and said he was actually worried about me. He knew that I was horribly depressed, and he apparently wanted to cheer me up. "Being a slave isn't always about be miserable. In fact, we much prefer happy slaves to sad ones." He told me. He sat me in his lap and cuddled me up, and I couldn't help but reciprocate and cling to him.

He kissed me right on the lips before he hooked a leash to my collar and took me out of my cell and upstairs. He brought me to another part of the building I'd never been to before. I didn't really have time to get my bearings before he got me into a room that looked like a large bathroom with a few tubs in it. There were a few other female Lizardfolk in there, and they all smiled at me when I walked in. "Morning, ladies." Ivan said to them, politely. They were also naked, except for dainty little black collars around their necks, not like the giant thing around mine.

They had a tub of warm, soapy water that they helped me into. The warm water felt SO good. "This is Zorah." Ivan told them, petting my head again.

"Aww, hello there." One of them said to me. I said "hello" back, I think, and she smiled nicely at me. Ivan sat down in the corner, just watching as the three Scalie girls started getting me cleaned up. I almost fell asleep, it was the most comfortable I'd been in forever. I felt the other slaves cleaning my scales, washing my hair, cleaning all the filth, sweat, and cum from my body.

"You've had a rough time, haven't you?" One asked, running a claw underneath some of my scales, expertly. It felt really nice being clean for once, and the other slaves obviously knew how to take care of scales better than I did.

"Don't worry, you're not the first sex slave we've had to clean up." Another giggled, running a claw along my pussy and clit. I shivered and groaned weakly before the other slave nudged her, annoyed. "Sorry, you're probably still not used to it."

The way they talked, and the way they looked at me, they must've known something was wrong with me, though I couldn't tell if they could figure out exactly what. We kept talking for a while, well, more accurately, they had idle conversation and tried to include me in it.

I asked them what they did, and they said, "We're domestic slaves. Cooking, cleaning, that sort of thing. Master has us help around the grounds until we get bought."

"Well, we do all that, but lifting our tails once in a while is another duty." All three of them giggled.

"I wish I had that job..." I admitted, letting out a happy sigh as one combed through my hair with her claws.

"Well Master has us all do what we'd be best at." One insisted. "If we were as cute as you, I'm sure he'd be having us do the same thing ." I blushed hard, comparing their figures to mine. It further drove home that my body was custom built as a fuck-toy. My waist was narrower than theirs, and my bust size considerably bigger.

After they cleaned me, they pulled me out of the tub and dried me off. I felt so good and refreshed. I didn't smell like sex anymore. Ivan took my leash again and had me say goodbye, and after waving we left the giggly house-slaves. Ivan took me to another room and got me dressed for public.

Well, more accurately, he dressed me in a tiny leather thong and a matching bikini top that barely covered anything. Two little tiny black leather triangles that covered my nipples and nothing else. If anything, it made me feel even more dirty. After he got me "clothed" he put the ball-gag over my mouth again and secured it to me. I teared up and he pet me, saying, "Shhh, it's okay. I'm sorry, but we don't trust you to speak in public yet."

After cuffing my arms behind my back as one last security measure, we were off, with Ivan tugging me along by my collar. He pulled me outside and I immediately felt the sun on my skin, er, scales for the first time in ages. It felt wonderful. As a scalie, I exist in an odd place somewhere between cold and warm blooded, so like true reptiles, I guess scalies naturally enjoy basking in the sun too. At least, that's my best guess as to why the warmth felt so good to me, despite the chilly breeze that was common this time of year.

He didn't let me stay for long, and started dragging me along. He just took me around the block, enough to get me some fresh air and sunshine. It was also enough for me to catch the date on a bus stop LED sign, and confirmation that I was still in my hometown, Greenvale.

As we walked, other people saw me. I guess seeing slaves being walked wasn't unusual, but one dressed as skanky as me drooling around a ball-gag was probably a tad rarer. They leered at me lustfully, glared at me disapprovingly, or just pretended not to see me at all. I could't help but feel that they were judging me, directly, instead of my captor... I don't know if that's true or not, but that's how I felt.

After a while, it was a relief that they brought me back in. They stripped me and took my back to my room cell. Ivan tucked me in and snuggled me up again, kissing me goodnight. He forced me to kiss him back, using his tongue to play with my own before leaving.

Sitting here, despite the humiliation, I feel better... I don't know if I should feel this way, but I still do. I was never one for walks, really. I should've taken Jessica for walks around the park more often...

---

January 21

It's been back to the old routine. It's just as brutal as it's always been, but they do reward me a little bit now and then for being cooperative.

They gave me a chance to beg for a cookie the other day, as a reward for being so good while they tought me to give out foot-jobs. I kinda liked feeling their cocks sliding between my toes... They made me tell them how much of a slut I am before they used it to scrape some cum off me. Only then was I allowed to eat it, and I wolfed it down like I was starving. They gave me another a few days later after they started teaching me to tit-fuck them.

I am such a slut. They got me to climax just from poking my clit over and over with a hot pin. I came so hard that my cunt squirted, or at least that's what they told me. Pain is almost the same as pleasure to me, now, only it makes me even more ashamed of myself. Ashamed because I'm a freak.

Sometimes, Ivan likes to show up to confuse me even more. As opposed to the awful and rough sex he and his friends put me through, when we're alone Ivan likes to show me how gentle and loving he can be. It reminds me of how I spent my time with Jessica, how we made love... Kissing, hugging, snuggling. I actually like it, now, because I close my eyes and pretend that... that I'm Jessica, and he's me... After writing that down, I realize how insane that is, but it's all I have.

I don't wanna be a slut. I don't wanna be a slave. I just wanna go home. But I can't. I'll never get out of here. All I have of my former life is memories, which are just piling up to amount to my insanity...

---

January 30?

I lost track of the date.

I haven't had the heart to write in my journal. I've torn out three pages. Today, I'm going to finally be honest with myself. Lying to these pieces of paper won't help me.

I am a filthy slut. I am a cock craving little whore. I love being fucked. I love their cum. I am a masochist. I love being hurt. Doing what they want makes me happy, now. I like being a good girl. I am ashamed. When I look at what I've become, and knowing that I'm powerless to stop it, I want to die. It's so much easier to be what they want me to be, than to try to hold onto who I was. But, despite all that, I still feel depressed... I've tried to lose myself, I've TRIED to give in, but even then, I feel horrified. Pangs of guilt and shame batter my brain.

I've gone completely insane. I'm no longer myself. I don't know if I ever really WAS Zack, or just a Scalie girl with his memories. I don't know anymore. When they're around me, I act like a timid animal. I whimper when they're mad, and coo when they show me affection. When I'm happy, I swish my tail behind me. Sometimes, I feel like a child. When I sleep, I hug a wad of my blankets to my chest, like the security blanket I had when I was little. Sometimes, I hide under the covers, hiding from something I can't identify.

I love taking walks, now. Despite the judgmental stares from all the people around me, I love the sun and the baths. I like the other slaves... In fact, they got one of them in on one of my fuck sessions. Her name is Claire. They had us both suck their dicks together, and occasionally having us make out for them.

I guess there's still a big part of me that knows that I'm supposed to be a guy, because I really enjoyed her kisses... I liked feeling our breasts squished up against each other. I liked how she smiled at me before she spit all the cum in her mouth into mine, and then had me do it. She giggled at me when they had me swallow it all. I wonder how actual sex would be... how it would feel...

If Jessica would take me back...

I don't know if I'm going to write anymore... I know that, the day I stop writing, is the day I stop being Zack, and I start being Zorah. Zorah, the sad, masochistic little slut. I don't really know if there's even a point to resisting that change anymore... Hell, I'm not really sure if I AM resisting, not consciously, anyway... I'd rather it just be over at this point...

---

A day or two after March 3

I saw Brian. Oh Christ, I saw Brian today. My best friend. It was the second walk they've ever let me out without the gag, and I saw Brian getting into his car. I cried out to him. I screamed his name. "Brian, Brian! Help me!" I screamed. "It's Zack! Brian!" I kept crying out until I felt Ivan clench my trap shut. He apologized to everyone before dragging me back inside.

I don't think they figured out who I was calling to. Brian... the way he looked at me... like a freak. They took me home, and scolded me, but all I could do was cry. They beat me half to death. This wasn't good pain. It was bad pain. I've been bad. I've been a bad girl. But God... I don't know what to do anymore. Brian looked at me, so confused... There was no way he could ever recognize me anyway... What do I do now? What do I do?

Can I do anything...?