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At first, I thought it was a dream. I had no reason not to. There was the odd sensation of watching everything from someone else's viewpoint, the strange awareness that everything in the present I viewed through my own eyes, while all my recent memories are in... third-person. There was also the simple... oddity, the strangeness of everything that tipped me off, that - hey - this can't be real.

Now, I'd had strange dreams before, weird sequences of events that didn't seem out-of-the-ordinary until I'd woken up. This had that too, except the realization of its weirdness slowly came to me as it progressed. As I remember - and memory may or may not be a reliable source of information anymore - I was walking home from the store at around... six, seven PM (I'd been hit with an intense desire for a maple donut), and as I turned the corner onto my street, this... sensation came over me, over my whole body. It felt like... like when you don't eat a lot, and then you stand up after sitting for a while, and a headrush just wipes out your vision and sense of balance, except... over my whole body.

I felt myself being... moved, somehow. Like the sensation on your body when you're floating in water, totally submerged but not moving. I don't know how else to describe it. Here, my memory must have... stopped... remembering, or I black out or something, for when I next awoke, I was being led down a hallway that looked like something out of a videogame: metal walls and floor, kinda dark bluish-grey with rounded panels and shapes, and... a surprising lack of flashing, multicolored lights. Keep science fiction fiction, I guess.

The person who led me looked... not quite right. Not quite human. I must have been really out of it then, because only now do I realize that she actually wasn't human, on account of the - oh, I don't know - tall wolf-like ears and flowing tail. Hell, it even tickled my legs - my bare, normal, furless legs - and I didn't think anything about it. Believe me, I wanted to get back home, but again, there was that dreamlike detachment that kept me from realizing my wants as true wants, and that made me so relaxed (though maybe that's not the right word) as to go with whatever might happen. She - so I assumed and still do, an account of her voice (as she hummed a vaguely familiar tune while we walked), the shape of her body, and her very prominent breasts, if I should base these last two on standard human anatomy - must have put what looked to be a pair of handcuffs on me, yet without the connecting chain. A device to restrict, I know: each had a blue light that pulsed red when I tried to move my arms above or apart a certain distance, and the cuffs prevented. It wasn't unlike trying to move your eyes independently, or any one of your little toes without the other. There's no real reason it can't be done - it just... simply can't.

Yes, I had an odd feeling. Everything was odd. At one point, the wolf-lady looked over her shoulder, showing me a very canine muzzle, brown fur, and amber eyes, and said "Keep up. We're almost there." At the time, it didn't really seem odd to me that this... thing, this likely extraterrestrial (as the only mention of animal-people like her I'd heard of came from various mythologies, as well as certain... websites... online-) knew which language I speak out of the veritable hundreds, maybe thousands, of Earth-born dialects, and that she could speak it herself with considerable fluency.

As established before, I was quite dazed, so I followed this she-wolf wherever she would lead me, also due to the cuffs on my wrists. They pulled me forward, almost as if she had an invisible leash attached to them. Since my mind apparently didn't deem my own safety important enough, I wondered at the whole... well, the whole everything about all of this. Aliens! We passed by a window - I'll never know how we can have glass that can withstand the pressure of the bottom of the ocean, as well as the void of space - and down below could I see the face of the Earth. I felt tempted to ask her - who are you? Who are your people? Where do you come from? What do you know of technology? - but found I could not speak when I tried. She seemed to know, though; when I did try, she flicked one ear back towards me, and her reflection in the window showed me her amused smirk.

When my awareness had fully returned, and with it a dull panic, a gentle fright, she'd brought me to a room that looked very much like a science lab: shelves of tubes and odd apparatuses, a few tables with nameless things and materials on them, a screen above a desk in the corner, an odor of stark cleanliness permeating everything. A door closed behind us, and hissed in sealing. There were no windows looking in from the hall.

And there's where I am now. Human male, abducted by animalian anthropomorphic aliens, in a science lab on their spaceship. I apologize if I left anything out. My memory is faulty to begin with, and frankly, I don't know what to omit out of preposterousness anymore.

"Come here," she says, standing a bit into the room. I obey - what else can I do? - and she fiddles with the cuffs for a moment. They fall off into her hands - paws? - and she takes them over to the desk in the corner. What I had at first thought was a screen is apparently much more than that: she changes the view, the contents, she moves things and text over and types more by touching the image of the screen, suspended in air. There's no border, no actual screen part of the screen - like, imagine the consoles in that movie Pacific Rim-

"Name?"

I must admit, though, her voice is oddly... lyrical. However, I don't think it's quite conducive to the sanitized environment of a science lab to have her body covered with a standard lab coat while her huge tail remains out and all over everything.

"Uh..."

She turns a pair of amused amber eyes up to me, peering between the lines of the screen. "That's not a name that matches the time period, area, language, or culture we picked you out of. Is that right? I don't believe our research is incorrect."

"My name's Matthew."

"Matthew." She types that into her screen, then swipes it off to the side. It disappears, like a minimized window on a normal computer back at home. "Wait. Spell that."

"M-A-T-T-"

"Two T's. Okay..."

I should probably be more worried or frightened than I am, but... honestly, I'm more interested, more captivated by this whole event than anything. besides, whoever these things are, they haven't expressed any hostility towards me. Hell, this lady one's been nothing but pleasant, if only slightly commanding.

Which I am totally okay with.

"Names of your parents?"

"I-"

"Actually, see that depression in the floor, near your foot?"

I do. It looks like a metal chili bowl set into the sci-fi chic flavor of the ship.

"Spit into that."

"What?"

"Did - was that the right language? Spit into it?"

Whatever, man. Not my spaceship. I do as she says, and after a short delay, the... computer?... beeps, and she nods. "What's that thing for?"

"Collecting DNA. On the floor for easy access. Self-cleaning, too. Saliva, sweat, urine, semen... anything works. Almost. Surprisingly, though, charred remains don't."

"What?"

"Not important. See that square on the floor, over there? ...You know what a square is, don't you?"

"Yes..."

"Go stand on it."

I keep an eye on her, almost scared that she might turn into a freakish xenomorph or something if I look away-

"I feel like I should tell you that, for a human, you have... interesting brain activity."

"What?" The square that she spoke of is another depression in the floor, though not quite as deep as the... as the DNA-collector. "What does that mean?"

With another swipe of her paw, she brings another screen up, this one bearing what looks to be a spreadsheet. "All the other humans - a large majority, at least - exhibited excesses of fear and hostility, and expressed these openly when asked even simple questions. We have had none of that from you. Yes, the fear is still there, in smaller amounts, but it's clearly not driving your actions or responses. You're going to feel a slight pain, by the way; try not to scream."

"What are you-"

And then it hits. I don't know what, exactly, 'it' is, but by God, it hurts, and startles me as well. A full all-over body pain, like a thousand tiny needle pricks into every pore of my skin. Whatever it is, it forces all my muscles to tense - and then seems to last at least thirty seconds before dissipating, leaving a hot tingling all over my goddamn everything.

Oh, she grins a smug fucking grin at me afterwards. I have to catch my breath for a moment. "What the hell was that?"

"Oh, look at that." She taps the spreadsheet screen, highlighting a row. "Your fear levels have spiked considerably. Same goes for... oh, what do these chemicals mean... 'hatred'. That was a body scan." This time when she touches the screen, a 3D hologram of someone - of me, I realize - appears above the desk, turning slowly. "As I recall correctly, your civilization is just beginning this sort of imaging technology... oh. I should've asked you to take your clothes off before the scan."

"You, uh-"

"Looks like we'll just have to do it again. It's a two-second scan, can't be that bad."

"Two sec- no, no," I say. God, the way my voice shakes... "I'm sure you can... deal with what you've got."

"Oh, the Admiral wouldn't like that too much..."

"The... Admiral?"

That's your word for his title. You'll meet him later." After flicking through various screens, she starts making her way around the desk - and I wonder if I can figure out how to get that door open before she reaches me. However, she stands in front of me before I have the chance to work up the courage to try - Goddammit. "...You're not going to flee?"

"Believe me, I was thinking about it. Still am."

"Interesting. Another different reaction." She extends a paw out to me - which makes me flinch; no way, by God, will I trust her after that zapping - but stops when she sees my reaction "...Would you still, were I to tell you your participation in these... tests... will be rewarded with sex?"

"What?" Were I to have doglike ears, they'd be perked. After a moment, she puts her paw forward the rest of the way - and, it's actually quite warm.

"Come on, Matthew. You're a human, and a male at that. Don't tell me you're not interested. Though..." She runs her claws gently over the skin of my upper arm, making me shiver. "...if you do, I could just... amble on over to the console and check what you're really feeling."

Lord, what am I supposed to say? My mouth tries to form words, but my brain offers it nothing.

She brings her other paw to my chest and pushes me back towards the far corner of the room. I can do nothing but follow her guidance. "Stand over here... stay. Can you do that?"

Images and scenarios run through my head - I see her without that lab coat on, and then suddenly find myself wondering if she really is wearing anything beneath that. Wait - how many nipples does she have? She's got two... obvious breasts straining against the buttons of her coat, but that's not to say that she doesn't have more nipples below those. How many do canids have? Wait - I know the males have knots and an excess of veins, but - don't the females have somewhat triangular-

Glass walls shoot down in the midst of my intense thinking, trapping me in the corner. "Hey! What are you-"

"You didn't think you'd be having sex with me, did you?" Again with that damned smirk!- I swear to God... she looks again at her screens. "...oh, you were. Though, if it'll make you more... compliant... I will take this off and answer all those questions of yours. The Admiral just wants you in his chambers within... what was it, eighty hours or so. I can take all the time I want. You just have to be... cleansed."

"What the hell are you talking about?" The glass gives no sign of giving way when I pound my fist on it. If I were stronger, I'd try slamming the metal table, also isolated in this corner, into it... "Look, I didn't agree to this - just let me go home, please-"

"Remove your clothing." At the press of a button, another console panel rises from the floor nearer this prison, and after a moment, it projects a screen of its own into the air, bearing the same symbol - crest? - as the front of her coat.

"I will not-"

"Alright, then." She shrugs. I scowl at her as she makes her way over to this new console. "Your loss. Eventually, you'll be released - all better, mind and body fully intact; that's partially why I scanned you, and also why I'd asked that you remove them for that as well, but since you denied that, I can't guarantee its accuracy."

"What are you going to do to me?"

"Don't worry about it. I told you, you'll get sex. You'll like it. I promise."

"I don't - fuckin' care - I just want you to let me go-"

"And I will. I said I will eventually, didn't I?"

Seeing that my resistance really is useless, I kick at the wall, curse loudly - in part because I'm pissed, and in part because the glass is a lot stiffer than I'd thought - and then go and plop down on the metal table. I don't know what that beautiful bitch is doing over there, typing and swiping and squinting at all the layers of complex information-laden screens - and I don't really want to know. As I said, I just want to get out of here. I didn't mind all of this too much at first, but now... God, if this really is a dream, it's one hell of a nightmare.

"Oh, calm down. You'll like the Admiral. He's a bit like me, except... well, You'll see. I know he'll like you, quite a bit when we're done here."

I don't even give her a reply. Not a verbal one, at least. I'm not sure if they have the middle finger where she comes from, so I give her a thorough demonstration; of course, she only chuckles and shakes her head. If only she were in this box instead of me... maybe there's a way to drain in the... results... from the restrooms-

A loud clap rings out, startling me. "What was that?"

"X-ray imaging. Simple stuff." The picture pops up to the left of the other screens. "...ah! Uncircumcised. I see. A bit out-of-the-ordinary for males in your area..."

Oh, sweet Jesus- "My... father is Hispanic?"

"Mm, that's what your DNA says. I'm not sure how the Admiral feels about it, or his preferences on the matter - but, of course, that's not what he'll be given." She scowls at one of the screens for a brief moment. "If it makes you feel better, though... I really like it."

"Oh, I don't want to hear it-"

"Have some civility, please. One way or another, I'll see you naked. I guess I already have." She barks a laugh. "And I like what I see. Of course, I should admit that I have a bit of a... what do you call it... a bit of a 'thing' for your fleshy, furless race..." As she speaks, she taps some things on the screens, which cause various raygun-looking things to nose down from the ceiling. "...with your short muzzles, your little round ears, your... non-retractable penises..."

I'm too busy worrying about the goddamn lasers pointed at me to throw some barbed statement back at her. Whatever the things are, they follow me around while I pace around the confined space.

"...I don't know." With some more taps, the things extend down further. "There's just something about the feel of warm skin on bare fur, wouldn't you say?... oh, you probably wouldn't know. Might, though. The dogs you have are... sort of like us."

"Go to Hell."

"Boop." She presses a button. After a moment of a whole damn bunch of nothing happening, she tilts her head. "...Oh. Of course. Forgot to prep the device. You'd think after the Great Fissuring of Xarius B, I'd remember to check all the apparatuses...

Well. If that was intended to reassure me, it fails. I reconsider if I can crash the table through the glass.

"At least take your shirt off, please, Matthew. It would make the experiments go a lot faster-"

"Experiments? What the hell! I thought you were performing tests!"

"Those aren't synonyms?... oh, well. Look, if it'll quiet you down for the duration, I'll do the rest of the thing naked, okay?"

"I don't want-"

"-I could get my assistant to do the same as well, if you'd prefer to see..." She raises an eyebrow at me. Above, the instruments hum faintly. "...him naked."

I sigh. "Preferably, both of you would be in here, naked, with me, and preferably, I'd be free to go home afterwards. But I can't have that, can I?"

She is right about me being a human male.

"Mm. Maybe afterwards, if you're up to it. After hearing that, though, I can promise you in full confidence that you'll like the Admiral. I bet your tail will be wagging when you meet him."

"I don't have a tail."

"Not yet."

"What?"

"Boop!"

Shit. I don't know what they're going to do, but the anticipation terrifies me. I've almost got a mind to hide under the table, to curl up and cry, to try to break the glass with my head-

-and then the beams fire, and oh, my anticipation was not misplaced. It feels like I stepped out into the hot summer sunlight, only to have that pain pierce into my body and course through my bones - God, I want to scream! Am I dying? The jarring of every joint popping, the pain of bones cracking and reforming, a disgusting crawling tickling its way over my skin - Jesus, my face, my nose -

Tearing through clothing. I look down at my body, at the changes: legs lengthening, hips and waist reforming slightly - broader shoulders, larger hands - paws? - covered in grey fur - and this - goddamned muzzle-

"There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" And then, into what might be a voice recorder pinned to her coat: "Phase one complete. Subject expressed minimal to moderate distress, relative to that of previous subjects. Vocalizations remained limited to... small gasps and grunts."

"What - the hell did you do to me?" It feels like - like the morning after intense stretching and exercise, not... really good, but not all that painful, either. My eyes strain against the bright light, a thousand times brighter than before, must be, and all the humming churning machinery of the ship and its engines, wherever they may be, pulse in my ears-

"You're a wolf now. Well - 'wolflike', as you see me. You were chosen for this experiment in particular because your bone structure and body type are - were - perfect for it." There was that loud clap again (which hurt my ears), and the image of a... a wolf-man appears onscreen. "...You .look nice. Oh, look, sheath... and knot. Nice."

She's... right. Fur all along my arms, my legs, my neck, my face and muzzle - smooth fur, soft. I try to pull off my shirt, first getting it caught on this protrusive muzzle, and then finding that my claws - what the hell! Claws! - have pierced through the fabric. I was skinny to start with, to the point where a few of my ribs could be seen were I to stand up straight, and it makes me... a little calmed to see that the fur covers that up nicely-

Something bangs on the table behind me.

"The hell was that?"

"Oh, you humans are so precious. That's your tail, dear."

"Tail?" I try to look behind myself. Surely enough, a tail similar to hers, though considerably less voluminous, sways slowly behind me. In transformation, it must have torn through my pants and underwear, for the hang loose back there...

"You're wagging."

"I am not-" It's clearly only swaying, not wagging. Besides, I'm sure the... fascination with this new body will fade quickly. I can tell that what she said about the... about the sheath is true. There's a different sort of pressure against the front of my pants (because they're tight; I am quite average, and when a human, I was a grower, at that), one that's less of a hanging shaft and more of a firm sheath. I could look. I am tempted to.

But...

There appears to be a sort of slider bar on the screen, which she moves up a little. Above me, one of the machines hums quietly. "What are you thinking about, Matthew?"

"I don't wanna tell you." I flex my hands - my paws, trying the feel of the new muscles. Everything about myself slightly larger: I feel closer to six feet than my five-seven before, and there's certainly less of a gap between my originally knobby legs. My arms have actual weight to them!...

"Remember, dear..." As she speaks, she continues moving the slider up, which in turn causes the machine to hum louder. There's a sort of... feeling in my head, like... a tone matching that of the humming, and one that sort of - itches, almost- "I told you that I'll reward you with sex as well. I know you want me. You just have to behave."

"Behave..." Wow, why was I so hostile to her? She's really quite pleasant. She's right about me desiring her, too - I'll admit that. Honestly, though, show me this Admiral. God, do I like a man in uniform... I might want him, too. I just feel... odd right now. It must be that noise.

"Yes, behave. You can do that, can't you?"

I watch her paw; she brings it away from that screen after maxing out the slider. I feel... calm. "I guess so."

"Tell me what you were thinking about."

"I wanna take my pants off."

"Why's that?"

"Well... sheath." Wow. Being a wolf feels great. There's so many smells, so many colors, so many sounds - and my fur is so soft...

"Go ahead, dear. It'll make phase two easier, anyway."

So I fiddle with the button of my pants, which is a little odd what with these claws, but I manage it. Then, it's a challenge to kick them off because of my now different leg shape and larger footpaws. After that, there's underwear to deal with - boxer briefs, because I like the way they fit. Even more so now: the outline of my sheath is obvious under the hugging of the fabric. It's a nice light grey color against the graphite tone of the rest of my fur. And - ooh, with this nose - my own musk has become a bit stronger, not at all unpleasant...

"Go on."

I almost expected the ship to be cold, but it's really not, I find, after sliding the underwear down my thighs. But - God - sheath! So enticing... I'd watched videos, and imagined what a dog's sheath would feel like, taste like, but - now that I've got one of my own... I sit back on the table and feel its plump width, the warm, soft fur, with a definite firmness underneath.

And it feels good. I... sort of... lose myself in it, stroking and squeezing, urging my own canid member out from it. I'm still aware of the she-wolf's presence - I can feel her eyes on me, and verify this when I open my eyes a big. It almost excites me more, her watching me.

"Oh, oh - Matthew, stop that-"

"Mm..." Leaning back on an elbow, I have to look at her around my cock. A little jolt of pleasure shoots through my body when I tug my sheath past my knot, and I breathe out a soft sigh.

She presses another button. "Bad boy. I said behave."

"I-" Rrrf. She turns pleading amber eyes to me. "...Sorry. I'm sorry."

"Okay..." she murmurs, into that audio recorder pinned to her coat. "Preparation for phase two complete and successful. Subject is obedient - ah, Matthew?"

"Huh?"

"C'mere."

I hope down from the table and approach the glass, stopping when my shaft and chest press against the cold surface; I have to turn my head to the side. The glass fogs up from my breath and from the heat emanating off my shaft. "Yes?"

"Nothing, nothing. You can go back and sit on the table. -Subject is totally obedient, without objection or complaint. Personality is like... like a young, horny puppy, but the subject still retains human intelligence and speech."

My cock throbs near my belly with each heartbeat. Were I to try, I could probably envelop at least half of my length, maybe more, in my muzzle...

"Matthew, you're going to feel an odd sensation. Okay?"

"Okay." I wonder what it feels like to knot someone... or, hell, what it feels like to be knotted. I'm willing to try both. Wait - if the Admiral is a wolf...

"We're Gizians, by the way, puppy. Not wolves. Gizians."

-that must mean he has a knot, too - so maybe I could-

"Completing machinery and program configurations for phase two. The... mind transformation as well as physical must be executed at the same time and then progress at the same rate, to prevent the fatal detachment that has killed past subjects. I have tweaked the algorithms and performed many independent tests that lead me to believe-"

"When will I meet the Admiral? I wanna meet the Admiral."

"Soo. Ah... that lead me to believe this transition will be flawless."

"Does he smell nice? I hope he smells nice. What does he smell like?"

"You'll see." She pulls up another screen, types something in, and then taps a spot on it. "Beginning phase two..."

Like with the first time, I feel it instantly, but this is... stronger, sharper. Not only do I feel my body bend and break into forms and shapes unnatural, artificial to me, but - my mind as well - my thoughts are-

"Doing okay, Matthew?"

I can't reply. I... I don't know how. By God - my neck and spine are compressing, my legs bend backwards - what was that she... said about...?

"...so far, there has been no disconnection between mental level and physical form... both are approaching halfway."

I don't - want to-

• how -

~ ~ ~

The Gizian attendant waits until the bars signifying the transformation's progress, in mind and body, reach completion. She'd much rather watch that than the actual process itself - a horrid thing, it always is. Bones visibly changing shape and molding themselves into odd angles, flesh and skin rippling and moving like a lightly disturbed pool of water - and the scream of pain, too... an unnatural process, yes, but then again, isn't everything relating to this sort of science unnatural? Medicine, surgery, all these procedures and tests... unnatural - perhaps 'artificial' is a better word - ways to fix natural problems.

Whatever, though. She enjoys her job.

The console emits a little beep to alert her of the transformation's completion, and when she looks up through the glass, she sees a little charcoal wolf where Matthew used to be. Maybe 'little' is also not the right word; he looks to be maybe two and a half or three feet at the shoulder, about three and a half from nose to rump. Not a large specimen, but certainly not the smallest, either. And perfectly dazed from the transformation, too; the Gizian flicks the switch on the console to raise the glass walls. When she brought him in, she had him restrained with the cuffs of her own design, which monitored the brain's activity and blocked the signals to move his arms outside of a certain boundary, but... she looks around for the - oh, where did she put...

...hung up on the wall. She brings it over to the wolf and fastens the collar with his neck - he just looks up at her with confused eyes - and then draws the leash to its full length. This should do: a simple collar and leash. Sometimes, it's fun to go manual.

"C'mon," she says, tugging on the leash. C'mon, boy. Let's go see the Admiral."

Matthew stands up, stretches, tilts his head; his still-hard cock throbs between his legs, the base obscured by fluff. Poor dog, horny and he doesn't even know why.

"I'd help you out if I could, but - the Admiral's gonna get you first. Come on."

He jumps down to the floor, wobbles a bit, and looks up at the lab attendant, who smiles at him. She steps forward, waits for him to follow - the delay in mental processing is to be expected; everything is still 'settling into place' - and then opens the door to the hall when he does pad over. The Admiral's quarters actually aren't too far away: being a very scientifically-minded individual, he likes watching over the experiments as well as performing some of his own. This time, though, he had requested that she do the experiment, and bring the subject to him afterwards. She was happy to oblige. Being the head of the transformation research and technologies, it was damn nice to get recognized.

Matthew sniffs at the air, at the viewing window, at the panels and the walls, at the people who walk by, and really anything and anyone else. The Gizian has no idea, really, what he could be thinking, or how the integrity of his mind is doing - this is the first full, absolute success she's ever had in this particular experiment. Perhaps the Admiral knew that. She'd submitted her revisions of the procedure to him before, maybe he'd looked over them and determined it would work. Hell, even if he hadn't requested it, she'd probably have done it anyway and given him Matthew as a gift. He'd enlisted her a few times in the past to develop various... outlets for his desires, and she never disappointed. This is really no different.

A powerful man with powerful desires. Wonderful, really. She'd rather work for nobody else.

He has a bit of a flair for the dramatic, too: his area of the ship is actually modular, and as such, can be reorganized, rebuilt, and redesigned as he sees fit. Currently, it's a calm blue-grey like the rest of the ship, but there have been times in the past - usually during battles - where he adopts a color scheme of obsidian and crimson, and he vents the area differently so there's a noticeable chill without it really being cold.

Again, though, this time, the hallway is as modest as it can be. Glass viewing windows on either side slant out towards the ceiling so you can lean on them and look down at all the space around the ship - she'd done it once, and then never again on account of the vertigo. Behind her, Matthew still dragged along, though hi pace has picked up a bit. The hard part, the Gizian muses, will be getting his body and mind back to normal after all this... if the Admiral isn't satisfied enough, that is.

She stops at the door - double doors, really, both pressure- and magnetically-sealed, and made of a material strong enough to withstand a shot from a railgun with a six-inch bore (he'd requested one that was tested against something other than 'plebeian projectile weapons - what am I, a half-formed troglodyte?', but...) and waits. He has a few security measures to go through, but really, no more than other important areas of the ship. She hears the hum of the superficial body scan, the more piercing noise and sensation of the reader identifying who she is, as well as the wolf with her, who causes an 'unidentified/unauthorized individual' alert. A moment later, the Admiral's voice rings out through the intercom by the door:

"Yes?"

The lab attendant shifts and tugs Matthew forward. The wolf licks the end of his nose before sitting down beside her, leaning his warm side against her leg. "Transformation experiment results, sir. It was a success. I have the subject with me."

A moment later, the doors hiss open, and there he stands in the threshold. Tall, around seven feet or so, with the overall build of someone who looks like he heads the most influential ship and military from here to the Triangulum (which, for good measure, he does, and has for as long as the lab attendant can remember). The Admiral doesn't quite have a uniform like the rest of the crew; instead, he wears a set of black clothing outfitted with amazingly lightweight yet durable pads of armor. He always wears the collared shirt open, too; one side of it hangs down and shows the tan fur of his chest and belly.

"This is it?"

"Yes sir. I - c'mon, Matthew. Say hi."

The wolf looks up, up at the six-foot-six Gizian Admiral. His tongue lolls out of his mouth, and his tail sways behind him.

"Cute pup. You said everything went alright?"

"Yes, sir." The attendant smiles, stepping forward to hand him the leash. She knows that if she performs admirably, he'll reward her.

"Thank you. I may or may not return him."

"Yes, sir." She salutes. "Enjoy, Admiral Zim."

The wolf jumps a little when the doors close behind the two, and he looks back at them for a moment before turning his gaze again up to the tall Gizian. Zim, one paw holding the leash, starts to remove his shirt.

"Gonna have some fun with you..." he growls softly. There's just something about... about the idea of the transformation that's so appealing to him. It's how a human is turned into something... not really less, but different, foreign, an animal. Not to say, of course, that they're much more than that to start with.

However, he's found that a human turned into a wolf is much more... obedient than one left unchanged. Just like how some people are friendlier after taking a nap than before - and really, the basis of the mental transformation is just extremely powerful, extremely efficient hypnosis.

"Oh, have I got plans for you..."

About halfway to the wide bed in front of the viewing window, Zim places a bare foot on the end of the wolf's muzzle and holds it down to the floor. Matthew growls - the furling of his upper lip tickles the Gizian's pads, but he holds still - and tries to pull away, but can't.

"First, though, I should have you know that I'm the one in charge here." Zim leans over, moving his foot a bit so he can look the wolf in the eye. "Understand, pup? I hold the leash. I am in charge. You are mine. If you disobey, you'll be punished. Understand?"

Perhaps it was something in his voice, a certain edge or grit, but when he lifts his foot, Matthew nuzzles up against it and gingerly licks the pads, keeping his eyes, which lack the glare of defiance that they contained just before, focused on his master's face.

"Oh, yes... I see you do understand." The Gizian spreads his toes apart and presses his foot harder against Matthew's muzzle, so that his broad, smooth tongue flicks over and between the individual digits. He blinks slowly as he does this, every now and then pulling himself further up to lick further back on the presented foot. Zim smirks; the tongues of canines are always so... enticing. He's felt one on multiple parts of his body, sometimes multiple at once, and the feeling has never failed to make him shiver. Now is no exception, either: he almost wishes that he had done this closer to the bed so he'd have something to hang on to, as his balance is thrown slightly off by the pup's nose pressing against and lifting his foot.

"Okay," he says after a moment, and moves that foot to the side. He leans over to unhook Matthew's leash as well as remove his collar. "Okay. You're an eager one, aren't you? Eager to please, eager to be dominated... I wonder, then, what else you're eager to do."

Matthew follows him over to the bed, but sits on the floor when Zim does so on the edge of the mattress. Just like a good boy, the wolf ;he watches, tail wagging idly, as Zim shrugs off his vest and the rest of his shirt and then reaches down to start at his belt. Animals can be just as passionate of lovers as anyone else, the Admiral had found. He sips his belt out of its loops, then unbuttons his pants. The thing with them, though, with feral animals, is that they have a tendency to not hold back. A sentient partner will stop if they fear they've hurt you; a feral animal - a wolf - will continue on until he himself is satisfied, and then will lick your neck or shoulder in gentle apology.

Of course, none of that needs to be worried about if it's not the animal who's on top. When Zim kicks his pants off, Matthew gets to his feet and lifts his nose up under his master's cock, sensitive nose breathing in the rich scent, the sharp musk of a long day. Zim rarely gets time off to enjoy himself, so when he does, he makes the most of it that he can. This time, that would consist of the tongue of a feral wolf on his sheath; he is not disappointed. As expected, Matthew eagerly sets to work on pleasing his master, first nosing into his plump sack and sheath, and then running his tongue over the Gizian's tip, canid as well.

Zim breathes out a gentle sigh. Such a tongue...! Within seconds, he finds himself leaning back on one elbow with his other paw positioned to angle his length toward the wolf's caressing tongue as he coaxes it further out. Matthew enjoys it just fine, too: Zim lifts a foot, perfectly positioned, to come into warm contact with the wolf's full, hanging sack. He brings it closer to his body, and after a moment, feels a most revealed cocktip between his pads as well. He squeezes his toes around the little bit of pink flesh - and then Matthew starts humping forward and back, bracing his sheath against the Gizian's toes and working his own cock further out. He never strays from his attentions to Zim's, though, lapping up along the glistening underside or licking at his tapered tip, as slick pre gathers there.

Zim presses his foot down on the wolf's length, feeling the contours in the flesh, all the little lines of veins, the subdued warmth emanating from what remains sheathed, and then the fiercer, more focused heat from his revealed length. The Gizian works at slipping the wide bulge of Matthew's knot free from his soft sheath, while the wolf focuses his licks at the base of Zim's.

"Get - get up here." It takes effort to get the words out, and exhaust him further as he repeatedly bats the wolf's muzzle away from his cock. "C'mon - come up here. Get on the bed." He pats next to him; Matthew finally understands, and then rubs the side of his fully-revealed, fully-engorged red shaft against Zim's knee when he jumps up. He turns and starts licking at the Admiral's face, coating his muzzle in the thick scent of wolf saliva and his own rich musk, powerful enough that he could smell it as soon as he'd opened his pants in the first place. "Stop - stop that-"

When he stands up, Matthew looks back at him but doesn't turn his body, instead just wagging a little more. From here, Zim has an excellent view: he can see the wolf's tailhole intermittently as he wags, looking as supple and delicious as that of any other canine; his sack hangs beneath this, grey-furred skin rumped slightly but still showing the outline of his plump orbs; and the red flesh of his cock throbs and bobs upward a little with each of his heartbeats. Zim steps forward and, with one paw, rests his tip against that tailhole, while he brings his other arm around the wolf's belly to hold him still - sometimes the males display slight discomfort when being penetrated, even though they all enjoy it nearly as much, if not more than, the females once they're given time to become accustomed to it. Matthew doesn't have that problem, though: Zim's eyes are closed when he begins to sink in under the feral wolf's tail so he can't see his response, but he can feel no unwarranted tension in his body, apart from that which is always present in a male who has another's shaft pressing against and into him.

Oh, it feels as wonderful as Zim remembers it, too. There's that difference as well, though it's a hard one to describe. The Gizian closes his eyes as he sinks in further, as the moist ,delicious warmth envelops more of him, as it tightens in resistance to his girth. After a moment, when he has pushed about halfway into him, Matthew lets out a soft bark-

"Shh, shh." Again, it takes effort to squeeze even this out between his teeth, as his mind and senses are consumed by so many sensations. "Remember who's in charge. Should've... had her turn you into a bitch - if you're gonna act like one..."

Goddamn, the heat, the tightness, the whole feeling of everything... Zim straightens up when his wide knot presses up against the base of Matthew's tail. No point shoving all that in now and getting stuck without first unloading into the pup... that'd take all the fun out of this. Instead, the Gizian leans over, which digs his shaft in a little deeper due to his height, and bites down onto the side of Matthew's neck; in response, the wolf lowers his ears, tilts his head to the side, and widens his stance to Zim - to the dominant male - so he has easier access to fuck him.

Again, a bitch. A good, submissive dog. Zim, still bent over him, moves his hips back (which squeezes a gentle whine from Matthew's throat) and then thrusts back in, not hard enough to make a sentient partner gasp, put an arm out, say 'easy, not too rough-', but still certainly with more fervency, more desire than when he first slid into him. Matthew reciprocates by leaning back against him.

"You like that, don't you?" Zim growls, keeping a firm grip on the skin of the wolf's neck. With wolves - dogs, pups too - you have to be forthright in your expressions of control: they're creatures of dominance, so in turn, they only enjoy being dominated when you absolutely destroy their own sense of control. What better way to do that than to hold them in place and fuck them raw?

Matthew's tail strains against the larger canid's belly in trying to wag as he slowly shoves in and pulls back out of him. Of course that lab attendant picked a subject who already enjoys having a thick cock squeezed into him... that removes all the fun, all the challenge of forcing him to enjoy it.

Oh well. Not like it isn't still a nice chunk of fun.

The wolf willingly accepts Zim's gradual increase in speed and force of thrusts, and when the Gizian straightens back up and moves a paw under the belly of his pet, he finds a hot, pulsing shaft waiting eagerly for his touch. So, he gladly gives it; he's had pets almost start fucking themselves on him, if only because they know he'll reward them with a few fingers, a tongue, or a tight paw. Again, it's all a matter of control.

Matthew humps into his paw, at the same time thoroughly slickening up the pads and his own length with his little spurts of pre, and shoving back against Zim, who still thrusts into him. He closes his eyes and lets the sensation and desire overtake him, guide the movement and force of his hips and paw. Perhaps after he's done here, he'll wait a while and then use the pup again - dogs are good like that, in that they'll always gladly take whatever it is you seek to unload on (or in) them. Matthew is likely no exception, judging by how he pants openly, how he tries to wag his tail, how he pushes forward into the Gizian's paw and then back onto his length.

Nothing like an eager bottom, nothing in the world. Zim starts to intentionally press a little deeper each time the wolf's warm-furred rump presses against him, so that he can stretch him wide and plunge his knot into him when the time comes... and, it's not too far off. The familiar heat and energy of approaching orgasm has put a new vigor into his thrusts, in his short breaths and eyes squeezed shut - and again, Matthew changes the stance of his legs and position of his body-

Zim tugs the wolf to him and shoves his knot into him in one deep, fierce thrust, shooting rope after rope of thick cum into the feral, who lets out first a sharp yip and then a series of short grunts through his nose. After the bright pleasure of orgasm fades a bit, Zim opens his eyes and, panting, looks under the wolf, to see the traces of several jets and spurts of both musky pre and cum soaking into the sheets of his bed. Sometimes, half the pleasure of a good fuck comes from the lingering aroma afterwards - and the scents (as well as tastes) of ferals are much more persistent.

Certainly not a disappointment, anyway. Zim leans over to lick at the spot on Matthew's neck he had bitten earlier. After the tie loosened, he'd call in the attendant who performed the experiment... she deserves a reward. Things could've been better, yes, but the quality of the resultant product is nothing at all to complain about.

What a good dog. A good, obedient, satisfactory bitch. It'll be a good bit of time before Matthew's transformation to his normal self will be requested.