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By the time they came for me, I couldn't walk, not even on all fours. The Dane had taken me more times than I could count, along with dozens of other males in between his bouts of breaking me. Two attendants had to drag me out of the staff after hours club, none too gently of course. When they realized it wasn't simple disobedience and that I actually couldn't walk, they grabbed me by my hind paws and lugged me out into the hallways. I was only barely aware, though I have no idea why I kept hanging on to consciousness. It would have been much easier to slip into darkness and wait to wake until everything hurt less.

I was, however, painfully aware of when we entered one of the medical suites. The chill tile, the glaring fluorescent lights, the scents of antiseptic and fear... I could do little more than whimper, and even that hurt, my throat having been raped raw. The minders dropped me and left, and I just lay there, letting the coolness of the floor soothe some of the burning ache from my pinched, bitten nipples and my gaping, oozing spade.

It took about ten minutes before one of the doctors came in and threw his hands up in disgust. He came back again a few minutes later with a pair of orderlies who manhandled me onto the hospital bed. Despite the fact that I wouldn't be going anywhere under my own power any time soon, they slipped the built-in cuffs around my wrists and ankles and pulled them tight before muzzling me with a ring gag. I was past caring, and just hoped they wouldn't hurt me any more.

The orderlies held my head still while the doctor fed a thick tube through the ring gag and into my raw gullet. To the end that was still outside my body, he attached a container full of pink gunk and hung it on an IV stand. It was about the size of a two liter of soda, but had a valve in the top to let air in. The sludge slowly crept down the tube and into me. It felt cool and slimy, but slightly soothing, as it was force fed into my stomach.

When it was empty, the doc removed it from the end of the feeding tube and poured in a shotglass worth of something that smelled absolutely foul and burned like acid on the way down. There was an immediate reaction when it hit the goop in my stomach that made me feel like it was going to come back up, which was only intensified by the doctor yanking the tube out, but it didn't. My stomach heaved, but the goo was too thick.

The humans left me lying there, gagged and strapped to the bed and hoping I didn't heave all over myself. After a few minutes, though, my nausea faded and I felt a soothing coolness start to spread through my body. I must have fallen asleep, because the next I knew the doc was back and the gag had been replaced with a muzzle. He noticed I was awake and came over to stand beside me, tapping at a clipboard with a pen.

"You should know better than to fight back," he scolded with an accusatory glare, like it was my fault they'd almost pulled my legs off and raped me bloody. "Well, you've earned yourself a day in the infirmary for repairs, but don't get used to it; you're scheduled for punishment tomorrow, once the nanites are done. I hope you don't intend to become a frequent guest in my ward, or you might find yourself slated for some more conditioning, perhaps as a pain slut. Or worse."

I could only whimper and shake my head in vigorous denial. They wanted me ready for punishment so badly that they were willing to use horribly expensive medical nanites on me, something usually reserved for the mortally wounded as a last ditch effort. I wasn't about to make them any angrier than they already were.

"Good!" The man perked up immediately, all smiles and happiness. "Bad girls are fun to break but poor company. Good girls, on the other hand, very good girl get treats. If you're a very good girl, I'll bring you some breakfast in the morning. How's that sound?"

I was hesitant to agree, knowing what he would probably want from me to consider me a very good girl, but it would be the first food I had eaten in... I didn't even know how long. Was it worth it? Was a meal worth my selling my soul to Dr. Moreau? What did I really have to lose that I wouldn't be losing anyways?

I nodded and let out a hopeful whine, giving my tail a few wags for good measure. He answered with a pat on the head that turned into scratching at my ears. I was ashamed to feel my long, wispy tail flicking back and forth between my bound legs, wagging on its own, but it felt amazingly good to have such a gentle touch after such beating and battering. Then he surprised me by pulling the muzzle off.

"I can tell you're going to be a very good girl for me," he said, further surprising me by beginning to undo the cuffs. "I have other patients to attend to, ones that can't or aren't allowed to move under their own power, so I'm going to trust you to behave yourself. There's a bathroom there," he gestured to the far end of the room, "where you can take care of your business and wash up. Trust me, you need it. You reek, and your lovely fur is an utter mess. I like my good girls to look pretty for me, you understand?"

I couldn't bear to look at him after such a blunt statement, knowing that I had already agreed to do whatever he wanted and knowing that I would do whatever he wanted. I had been given glimpses and intimations, so far, of what happened to bad girls. The doctor had just given me even more to worry about with his little hints.

"Yes," I murmurred. "I'll clean up."

He gave me another scratch behind the ears and stroked down to pat my cheek. "That's a good girl."

Good girl. It rang in my head as he left the room, and I couldn't help the little shiver of pleasure that accompanied it. I had no choice. I had to do this. I had to be what they wanted me to be or bear unspeakable consequences. Never let them see you cry.

Taking stock of myself, I was actually feeling amazingly good. My throat felt a lot better, and the space between my legs and under my tail had quieted from a burning agony to a mere dull throb, though everything seemed to have a low-level itch. I couldn't feel the scratches or bruises any more, either. The nanites were doing their job, fixing me, healing me, repairing me so that I could be abused even more, over and over and over again, until I was broken in both mind and body. If I was a bad girl.

Bad girl.

I shivered, and slid off the bed. There was a strip that was roughened between the two beds that occupied the room and led over to the bathroom, presumably to keep paws from slipping on the slick tile. All of the furs who worked here wore paw-shoes, for probably the same reason. I was grateful not to add an injured pride to my list of complaints as I crossed to peer through the one door I had been given leave to open, the only door in the room. I should have known better than to expect any decency from them. The floor was rough, with a small shower stall without walls or curtains and a fur drier in a closet-like nook. Instead of a toilet, however, there was a strip of grass. I didn't doubt there would be cameras watching, as well, probably set at strategic angles to give them the best view of my humiliation.

I decided to go ahead and get the shower over with. There was no telling when next I might get the chance to be clean, and I was definitely going to be getting dirty again soon enough. It was... a weird experience. There wasn't any shampoo, just like there weren't any brushes, but I was able to rinse the blood and cum out of my long fur with time and patience. It all weighed me down though. Wet it felt like I gained fifty pounds, dragging me down, weighing on me like bad decisions.

Everything about me was so completely different, from my height to my shape to my gender. My stubby fingers that didn't work quite as well as my human ones had but worked perfectly as parts of paws for walking on all fours. The fur that covered every inch of me. My long snout that could smell so many new scents I couldn't even catalogue them all. My sensitive droopy ears that could hear the people moving in the halls and other rooms even over the running water and through the closed bathroom door. My long thin tail that I could barely seem to control. The rows of nipples that lined my stomach and would feed my litter of pups. Legs that were shaped just plain wrong ending in paws that I could only barely walk upright on. And, of course, the animalistic, fortune-cookie-shaped femininity between them.

It was the first chance I'd had to actually explore my new body, and I didn't find it particularly pleasant. Still, I took at least an hour under the scaldingly hot water, trying to wash it all away. I felt... filthy. Utterly disgusting. Even after I'd pulled the last pearled globs and dried scabs out of my strands and watched them circle the drain. I guess... I guesss that must be how most females felt in Nevada and the other states where they had few, if any, legal rights. It wasn't precisely commonplace to see a female bent over and being gang-raped, but it was common enough not to bat an eye. Unless they were fertile. I had that going for me, at least. I'd get a choice in who raped me, rather than just having to take it from whatever male took it in his head to have me. I stood there, my nose tilted towards the nozzle, letting the water cascade over me, my arms hugging against my chest.

But I didn't cry. I might have, letting the water hide and wash away the tears. But I didn't.

Never let them see you cry.

They'd know, and the sadistic bastards would no doubt use that admittance of weakness to ramp up my "training" to another, even worse level. They'd see that I was breaking, that I could be broken, and then I would never find a way out of what they did to me back to anything resembling myself. Regardless of what I looked like, I had, so far, been able to hang onto myself, onto who I was, who I had been, who I could only hope to ever be again. If I let myself cry, if I let them break me, then that last little shred of hope would be ripped away from me forever. If I could just survive, keep my sanity and the core of myself, then I could make it. And maybe, one day far away in the future, I could be human again and male.

I spent about half as long in the fur drier, getting myself blown from all directions. It started blowing chill air at me from all directions that left me shivering by the time I stepped out. My bladder was complaining by the time it was done, and I eyed the strip of grass. Slowly, I let my gaze wander over to the shower and the drain at its center, letting the thought creep in of using that instead. In the end, I knew better. I squatted on the grass and spread my legs wide, making sure the hidden cameras got a good, long look at my puffy spade and hardened nipples while I watered the grass. If I tried to avoid their scrutiny and humiliations, I would only make it worse on myself.

Bad girl.

I didn't want to make it worse on myself.

Good girl.

Afterwards, I returned to the bed and sat finger-combing my fur, trying to free the tangles that the drier had whipped into it, and thought about nothing in particular. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard a soft whistle, and found myself instantly crouching on all fours on the floor with my head lowered and tail tucked as I peered towards the room's entrance around the edge of the bed. It was instinctive, a reaction beyond thought, like a naughty dog caught raiding the trash. The doctor gave a soft laugh, grinning widely at my reaction.

"That's a good girl," he told me, "but dogs are allowed on the furniture here."

Good girl.

I felt that pleasurable tingle again, and it scared me a little. It also made my teardrop sex clench, which scared me more. The doc had me get back up on the bed and lay down. Then he examined me. Thoroughly. I realized that I didn't hurt any more, anywhere. I felt better than I had in years, in fact, despite the anxiety his impersonal yet invasive touch brought. He saved what I'm sure he thought was the best part for last. And that was far less impersonal.

He looked at me with that slightly off grin of his and poked the tip of his finger into his mouth to wet it, then lowered it to trace over the lips of my black-skinned vulva. I held back a whimper, feeling my spade flex at the light sensation, the cooling saliva contrasting sharply with the light pressure and warmth of his finger as he traced it around my lips. He reached the split tip and paused for a second before pressing inwards, sliding his digit between my folds in a slow stroke that slipped against my clit, until his fingertip stretched the thick curve of flesh at the rear. I felt my tunnel flex, felt the leak of moisture that the pleasurable brush had brought, and his grin widened even further.

Then his finger curled, slipping inside me. I couldn't hold in my whimper that time. It like the first time all over again, feeling larger than it was, larger than I expected. It wasn't until I felt a slight cramp inside that I realized the truth. The nanites had done more than just heal my wounds: they'd made me a virgin all over again. The doctor pulled his finger out and made a show of licking and sucking it clean before he stood back from me, his creepy smile turning somewhat sinister.

"Well, now, my pretty girl, how shall we do this, hm?" I knew it wasn't a question I was meant to answer, so I kept silent, looking just over his shoulder, avoiding meeting his gaze without quite looking away. "I've taken a fancy to footjobs, lately. After a while, the old vanilla acts start to become boring, and that's the flavor of the month, this month. Last month it was spanking, so I suppose you lucked out in that regard. It's so difficult to get first crack at a virgin around here, though, surprising as that might sound."

He leaned in, took my muzzle in a gentle grip, and forced me to look at him fully. "I'm sure they'd prefer you untouched, so that it will hurt all the more, when you're punished. Then again, it wouldn't be the first or the last that one of the personnel took certain liberties with one of our pets, now would it? Hmmmm... How about this? I did say I would bring you breakfast if you were a very good girl, so be a very good girl and ask me to do it."

I whined, long and low, closing my eyes to shut out the penetrating, lustful look in his. I could feel myself trembling slightly, the fear sinking its teeth in. I couldn't. I couldn't ask him to do that. How could I? But I came back again to the simple question of what I had to lose. Better yet, what did I have to gain? Would giving in this once be so bad? Could it be worse, this once, to let it happen? He was human, after all, not likely to have a painful amount of length and definitely not a knot that would spread me open until it tore me. He might even be... gentle...

"P-please," I forced myself to say, "w-w-will you... please... take me?"

"Come, now, you can do better than that," he rebuked, pulling a frown. "I'm not going to feed you the words, but if I don't hear what I want, I might feed you something else that you'll find very unpleasant. You don't want me to think you're a bad girl, now do you?"

Bad girl. Bad girl.

He moved to the end of the bed and took my paws in his hands, his thumbs massaging the central pads and slipping between my toes. I whined as the tremble became full on shivering.

"P-p-please! I w-want you to be my... my first. I d-don't want them to have that... again... I... I want to give that to you. I w-want... I want to be your... good girl..."

I had to clench my eyes hard against the tears that threatened, burning behind my lids, barely held in check. Was it worth it? Was the humiliation, the degradation, the debasement worth it? His hand caressed my cheek, then I heard the clink of a belt buckle, the slither of his slacks sliding down to pool on the floor. The bed gave a soft creak as he climbed onto it, hovering over me.

"That's right," he said, his voice a husky purr. "That's my good girl."

I kept my eyes closed as he shifted his legs between mine, hooking my thighs up on top of his. He leaned down, kissing at my cheeks, my eyes, my neck. His hands stroked down my sides to my hips, then slid up along my stomach, slipping upward, taking the time to tweak each of my nipples back to hardness with light pinches and twirls between finger and thumb.

"Open your mouth," he told me.

I complied without question, and he gripped my tongue, pulling it out. Something metallic tasting clenched it, and I heard a mechanical whine, then a sharp pain. My eyes jerked open. I yelped and tried to retract it, but he held tight. I felt something sliding through my tongue, a slightly ticklish sensation. After about ten seconds, he pulled my tongue up to show off the seamless steel ring through the tip.

"You are slated for punishment. You should look pretty for them, don't you think?"

I simply closed my eyes again and pulled my tongue back into my mouth. The pain was already fading. The nanites were still active. I whimpered as I felt the clamp-like head of the piercer squeeze around one of my nipples. That pain was overshadowed by the ripping of my hymen as he shoved himself into me. He slowly slid himself back until just the tip spread the lips of my spade, the piercer clamping onto the next nipple. Six thrusts, six new rings, then he slid it into my nostrils. That one hurt, but he didn't give me much of a chance to react as he started pounding into me, hard and fast.

The worst part, really, was the pleasure that started building, a warm glow that started to blossom just below my stomach. It only hurt for the first little bit, an ache that dulled swiftly as my nipples and tongue and nose healed around their new adornments. As the warmth grew into a heat, I could hear the wet schlurps and slaps of his flesh plowing into mine, feel my juices dribbling out of me. It wasn't long before I was panting, my new tongue ring clinking slightly against my teeth as I let it dangle from between my parted jaws. I had to stop myself from actively humping as he continued to thrust against me, my fingers clenching at the thin mattress beneath me. But I moaned. I moaned for him as I felt the pressure building and building.

He could feel it too, obviously, because just as I began to peak there came a piercing pain at my spade tip, yet another ring through my clit, and it seemed to launch me over the edge like a rocket. I howled. Like a dog. Like a bitch in heat being properly rutted. And I came. I came harder than I ever had in my life. It was like sparks shooting all through me. It lit up my mind like the best fireworks display in the world and sent wave after wave of pure pleasure washing through every part of my body.

He was still giving light humps into me when I came down from the high, more stirring his dick in me than anything else. I could feel the familiar puddled warmth of his seed inside me. He also had one of my paws pressed to his face, licking at my pads and slipping his tongue between my toes, giving light moans. I knew dog paws smelled like corn chips from growing up with one, but I would never have gotten off to the flavor or smell like he was. He was utterly crazy, and it honestly terrified me for what my immediate future might hold.

"That's my very good girl." He gave me a deprecating pat on the head and pulled out, leaving me to feel far more sullied than the dogs had. "That's my very good girl."

Good girl...