Chapter 9
Lost In The Mist © 2015 Sinclair Diavante
Chapter 9.
He fucking tricked me, and all I could do was lay there, feeling like an idiot. I never had a problem with swallowing things in the past. Food went down, and if it was an issue, it came back up quite reliably. A canine digestive system is almost a straight path. I've swallowed bones, gristle, cartilage, rubber chew toys. I have a real passion for chewing on things, and swallowing is always a part of that.
The ball in my stomach refused to come back up, it was too large. The tube connected to it felt solid between my front teeth, and it didn't stretch. It anchored the metal muzzle around my jaws and nose. The padding inside kept them firmly pressed together. Not much time had passed since Mist muzzled me, but already my teeth ached from the constant tension against the tube, and there was no way for me to alleviate it.
Just thinking about it made my mouth water, and not in a good way. Drool was pooling onto the bed's satiny surface, it gathered in puddles that went unabsorbed. Nausea was only a small movement of my tongue away, constantly lurking in the corners of my mind. All it took was swallowing the wrong way, and sickening pain flared in my irritated throat. Confused messages travelled to my brain: swallow, stupid, you didn't swallow all the way, something is still there.
My throat spasmed again, inducing a progressively deeper cycle of swallows which I couldn't stop, and another surge of saliva spilled between my jaws. My elbows and stomach were already soaked, no matter where I moved on the bed, the offal settled at the lowest spot, which was me. My stomach heaved, I gripped the muzzle in my paws and pulled as hard as I dared, trying to reposition it. The dull ache in my stomach rose brightly, only fading when I pushed it back.
Finally, my body relaxed somewhat, leaving me to my fuzzy thoughts of confusion, fear, and hatred of Mist.
I was pretty sure Jimmy didn't expect this to happen. He was just another kinky Rhenthar, obsessed with body modifications and anything else our ex-human culture said "no" to. He had done a pretty good job with my fur, re-patterning it to improve contrast, adding a few unnatural designs. He replaced the missing fur that my last collar had electronically removed.
Collar.
I felt the new one up, all the way around my neck. Metal, flexible, warm to the touch. Though familiar, this one felt heavier than my last. The springy gold contacts facing inwards were closer together. I counted eight touching my skin instead of the six I was used to. I had felt those for three whole years, and though I didn't like it for much of that time, my combined personality had felt naked once Sinclair stripped me of it. He sent me out on my own, to get a better understanding of myself, and to determine if I really did want to spend the rest of my life as his property. Of course I did, and I had felt sure that would never change, but now I wondered.
Who owned me at this point?
I thought back to what had happened after Mist made me put this collar on. Sin had stepped out of the shadows, and then through the bed. He must have been projected into my mind, somehow, maybe through the collar. Mist couldn't see him, but Sin seemed able to discern everything in the room. His snarl had flattened my ears. I'm coming for you, he said. I would have pee'd from that, which was perfectly normal canine behavior when big promises came from the Alpha.
But I couldn't, or maybe, I did. The black hose attached to my dick carried away my urine continuously. It was secured to the parasite that surrounded my prick. It, too, I had worn for three years, but unlike my collar, there was no way to take it off, it was a friend for life.
These were all slaver mods, and I wondered if I was wearing the whole ensemble, now. I hoped that was true, because if there was more, I didn't want to find out. I feared that there could be worse, waiting around the corner. Sin had 'sited and collared me to keep my mind separated, while it healed, and for fun. When I was a human, 600 years ago, this was all something I would have died to experience. In fact, I did, he pulled my consciousness through time and installed me into this half-man, half-wolf body, the likes of which only my wildest fantasies had ever contained. For ten years, I had lived as a normal Rhenthar, completely unaware of my past.
I would have fallen apart at the end of those ten years, when my human memories surfaced, were it not for the collar he had put on me. I hated him for it, at first, but in the end, I fell in love. The collar was powerful as it controlled what my mind could comprehend. The limitations kept me sane while I healed, and they kept me happy, when I was made to heel.
If Mist had control of this new collar, I needed to stop calling it my life. The fact that I could think at all told me something was wrong. After it had locked itself around my neck, he became frustrated, and the implications of his words hadn't yet worn off. What do you mean, already owned? He referred to it as a Mark 6. The last one I wore was called a Mark 5.
My wetware needed a cold reboot, at the very minimum. Whatever he had stunned me with damaged it, and I needed access to my Solve-All or something similar in order to help me repair it. Without my wetware, my comms were offline and I was on my own. Not the first time I'd been in a situation like this, I reminded myself. I giggled at the thought, then wondered what the fuck was so funny.
That was another problem. Steadily growing larger. The muzzle locked onto my head forced me to breathe a gas of some sort, and I was growing higher by the minute from it. Waves of euphoria that I really didn't want rushed through my awareness. It was a drug, and fight it as I tried, it felt really good, I had to admit. It was making it hard for me to gauge my situation. All I could focus on were those growing feelings of pleasure as they rose.
How much stronger would it get?
There we go, even better, ugh, that's amazing.
Even more amazing.
I knew a lot about drugs, and this was strong in an unhealthy way. I shouldn't be breathing it. I disconnected the hose from the front of the muzzle, there was nothing locking the two together. It released with a hiss that lasted for a half second. I stared closely at the end, I could see multiple tubes in a coaxial layout. The center dripped something dark and watery. That was apparently being fed into me as well.
Without it attached, I couldn't breathe at all, the short tubes in the muzzle were too tight inside my nostrils. I tried wiggling the muzzle around, but I still couldn't suck air past them. I spread my lips and bared my teeth, trying to suck air through my mouth. I got a little, but my airway conflicted with the big tube in my esophagus, the two couldn't access my mouth at the same time. I choked, then heaved with a fresh set of tears flooding my vision. I held still, hoping the cycle didn't start back up. My body settled, and I hooked the hose back up, drawing in a deep breath through my nose. I couldn't believe something like this even existed, who designed this shit?
A peculiar feeling kept circling through my mind. Not only was I blind to all scents in the room, but I couldn't open my jaws. I felt incredibly helpless because of that. Sure, I had sharp claws; but they weren't long. They were only designed to help me hold onto something when I bit it, sinking my fangs into its throat. Dog, I wanted to open my muzzle so badly, it was both a craving and an itch. I could still move around as far as the hose allowed, but without being able to open my mouth, I felt defenseless, powerless. Claustrophobic, as if I was in the smallest cage my body could fit in. I felt certain that it wasn't just the drug making me feel this way. It was a deeply rooted instinct, without my teeth, I could challenge nothing.
A chilling thought came to me. What if that was the desired effect of wearing a muzzle? How long could he make me wear it? It looked similar to my collar, and that was designed for very long-term use. But my front teeth were killing me...
I must have passed out, the drug's irresistible pull maybe got stronger, or my resolve had grown weaker, some combination of the two. Mist was leaning over me, the awareness of which pricked my attention like being stabbed in the kidney. I shook cobwebs from my mind, but they clung. My eyes tracked his movements, I held still, wondering what he was up to.
"Well well." His muzzle was close to mine. "Look. Who's. Awake. You've been out for twelve hours, and you're quite a mess. We're going to have to do something about that." I couldn't scent his honesty, but twelve hours sounded hard to believe.
He was inspecting what held my jaws shut, peering at the muzzle closely. Eager hopes that he might take it off began to brew, countered with my desire not to build up disappointment. He was probably not taking it off any time soon. I felt a sting just ahead of my left ear, and cold numbness flowed into my skull.
Only then, did I realize he was pinning me to the bed, and another hypospray delivered the same to the opposite side. The wall separating me from fear began to crumble as I fought my way up from the depths of the gas. What the fuck is he doing?!?
He released the pressure on my head, and held out something metal, showing me. It looked like a powered screwdriver, of some sort. It was compact and all metal, I had something like that on The Jefferson. Bottom toolbox, top drawer, on the left. I wondered if it needed recharging-
"Hey." He grabbed the muzzle and shook my head with it. "Pay attention, Keman. Quit zoning out. I'm only going to show you this once. Trust me, you want to know how to do this." He snapped off the hose leading to the muzzle, and I couldn't breathe, again.
He certainly had my attention, now.
I felt him take my paw and curl my fingers over the metal object, then he guided it up against the front of the muzzle, pushing one of my fingers onto an activation stud. The device whirred, engaging with a loud grinding noise, and I felt the muzzle loosen. The bottom metal half slowly spread apart from the one resting on top of my nose, the hinge was in front. The sudden loss of pressure my teeth had against the tube was the first real pleasure I had felt in a while.
"Sit up." He reached down and twisted the hose attached to my prick, the cath withdrew from inside me, and the outer part disengaged. With a tug, he pulled it off and set it aside. I pushed myself up onto my haunches and stared down at its glossy, wet opening. I couldn't see much with the muzzle open, the uncompressed padding raised the metal into my line of sight. I still couldn't breathe, panic was distant, but it was coming...
"Go ahead and pull it off." He sounded smug, like a surprise was in store. I didn't like that, but the thought of stretching my jaws open was only a close second to wrapping them around his throat. I grabbed the hated thing and pulled, the inserts in my nose had gone deeper than I realized, and they hurt the whole way coming out. Once I had it off, I inhaled deeply, then choked. The tube was still in my mouth, I tried to bite it, but it was solid and it only bounced off my teeth.
I dropped the muzzle and reached into my mouth on reflex, grabbing at it and pulling. It wouldn't come out, and my stomach tensed up, heaving, more than happy to assist. I spread my jaws wide and gagged, drool and fresh tears combined into a slick trail that had already matted all the fur on my jaws and face. Still more dripped onto the bed's surface while Mist laughed at me.
"What? Are you serious? You actually thought that was coming out? Oh. No, Keman. That's permanent. Get used to it, the sooner the better." Permanent? No way, he can't leave this in me! I stared down at the bed, noticing how red my snot was, coming out of my nose. I processed that, anger built up as I fought the nausea and the effects of the gas. The fresh air was clearing my head quickly, but I focused on the tube in my mouth. I couldn't swallow it, and I couldn't hack it back up. One had to happen, my body demanded it. Fuck this...
I turned and jumped at him, snapping my jaws around his neck. I missed on the first attempt, but on the second I felt his heartbeat through my fangs, they're built to detect that. I had an artery, now you die, I bit down as hard as I could, expecting singing pain from my jaw muscles, and a whole lot of red. My mouth watered for a new reason, the taste of his blood, I wanted it bad.
Mist caught my head in his paws and pulled my jaws off his neck with very little effort, I felt his fur slip through my teeth, feeling utter shock, that's impossible! He twisted his arms with something involving martial arts, my spine briefly had all of my bodyweight as I flew through the air, the world flipped on me as my head slammed against the bed's surface, along with the rest of me. I immediately felt his teeth around my throat, he bit down hard, and I exploded into whimpers when I felt a popping sensation, his fangs piercing my skin, he was tearing my throat out. I wanted to curl up, my instincts came alive, and I alternated from choking on the tube, to long peels of terror.
He let go and looked down into my eyes, licking my blood from his teeth, staring into my wide eyes with menace. I shook and stared with huge pupils, the room was excessively bright, and I was trying as hard as I could not to swallow what was in my mouth. His scent was sharp, now, along with my blood: he was very angry. I was a miserable wreck of surprise.
"The next time, I won't let up, I swear on it. I knew you would try this, and I wanted to teach you a lesson before you made me kill you, you're useless to me dead." He waved a hypospray around in a paw, "I took your jaw strength, for now. Normally, with the Mark 6 around your neck, I just lock out your jaw muscles. But that's a problem, one which I eagerly anticipate the solution to." He grinned, and I saw that there was still blood on his teeth.
I had been holding my paws against my neck, I let go and glanced at them. They were covered in blood, but it was nothing arterial. I fought back another paralyzing wave of choking, trying to find the right way to situate my tongue against the tube, holding it up against the roof of my mouth.
"Go ahead, hate me. I can work with that. But. I take care of my property, and you are most certainly mine, now. So go into the 'fresher, and clean yourself up. Brush your teeth, close that wound, and wash your fur. You smell like shit!" He picked up the muzzle up and thrust it at me. "Clean this off, too. It's going back on, whether you like it, or not. Trust me, though, if not now, then soon. You'll look forward to wearing it." He smiled.
Fat fucking chance of that, I thought, staring down at the metal device with just as much hatred as I had for him. Clotted blood caked the tubes that had been inside my nose, and it did smell bad, dried saliva was in every crevice. I took it and felt stunned, this was so surreal. My legs propelled me out of the room and into the rest of his ship, all with a mind of their own, and in fact, I didn't even know where I was going. I paused to look around, still feeling a mixture of adrenaline and whatever I'd been breathing moments ago. The initial numbness was fading, my throat started aching with such severe pain that I thought my legs were going to give out. Luckily his teeth were sharp enough that bruising would probably be minimal.
The walls were anodized dark brown, and recent memories of ship interior decoration came to my mind. I recognized the finish as something fine and expensive. Dramatic stripes of red contrasted and flowed around various access panels and displays. Light was indirect from hidden alcoves, it looked modern and well done. Furnishings were spartan, but that was typical. Although artificial gravity rarely fails, when it does, it's important that things don't float around when people do. The floor was padded with textured dark red urethane foam, my claws tracked well in it.
My ears went sideways, as I heard Mist approach me from behind.
"Down this hall, second room, on your left. I already told you that you could wander around, this is your home now." He gave me a push between my shoulder blades, and once again, I toggled through my options. I came up with a blank.
I walked forward, keeping my ears sideways. Obedience was nothing new to me, but this level of hatred certainly was. The inner wolf had woken up, horrified with what was going down. I focused on Sinclair, what he had said about coming to get me, and I latched onto the idea, clutching it to my chest protectively. I could handle anything with him on the way.
I walked into the 'fresher, and glanced behind me at Mist before I shut the door. I put some muscle into it, trying to make it slam, but the pneumatic assist dampened most of my effort. I discovered that there was no lock, so I held my back against it, then slid down onto my haunches, glad to have something between him and me. He was watching me closely, and I wondered how I was acting, compared with how other Rhenthar might respond in a similar situation. Fuck!
I know I'm not normal... if he learns who I am, what my past contains? I don't want to give him what he desires; I don't want to be appealing, or interesting. I want my old badass five self, the one that used to hate Sinclair so much. If I could just call him forth, somehow, maybe Mist might see that there is nothing desirable about who I am, or how I act. I'm just a bundle of claws and teeth, a big killing machine looking for the next opportunity to tear his throat out.
Where do I start, if I want to act that way?
Start with not walking onto his ship wearing a collar, Keman. Hurf. I stared down at the piercing through my sheath, thinking about the messages conveyed. What have I done? Who have I become? I did that... because I wanted it. But, I didn't want this!
I got up and faced the mirror, tossing the muzzle into the sink as I stared at my haggard appearance. Holy shit, that's a lot of blood. My fur was all matted, everywhere. I opened my jaws wide and stared at the tube resting on my tongue. As I had expected, the end was finely threaded, probably made of titanium, it had the right shade of gray to it. I pushed and pulled on it, ever so slightly. I could feel the ball in my stomach shift around, with a deep, sick sensation. I tried to imagine how big it must have become, for my stomach to determine that it couldn't pass it. It must be huge, and what's it filled with, could I pop it somehow?
I tried to speak, "Fu--" I choked, as soon as my airway tried to open into my mouth, it contacted the tube and I coughed. My eyes were watering again...
I turned my attention to the accessories in the 'fresher, noticing how similar they were to the ones I had installed on my own ship. A pang of worry dawned on me, as I wondered about it sitting there, on its own, in Yoshi's repair bay. Nod could probably check on it- if I could contact him.
I used a dermal regenerator to close the teeth marks around my neck, pushing its field emitter prongs through my fur and holding it steady. Pain began to recede as my tissue was re-bonded back together, at the cellular level. The destroyed cells would all need to be regrown naturally, but the holes were gone now. I glanced at the shower stall, a sacred place of relaxation and meditation, for me. Normally.
The gas I had been breathing earlier must have worn off, because I sure felt like shit. I climbed into the shower, and the hot water around my toes ran brown and red. My blood, sweat, and saliva, it all went down the drain into the recycler tanks. Stress clung to my fur, though, like thick grease. It wouldn't wash off no matter how much I scrubbed. I combed suds through my fur with robotic movements, concentrating on the idea of Sin showing up, how he'd execute Mist on sight. I wanted that, I needed that. How dare this fucker mess with Sin's property?
The air-dry cycle took a few minutes, and I stepped out feeling fluffy, but heavy, too heavy. I checked my fur, making sure that it wasn't still wet. The ultrasonic assisted drier had performed its function well. Still, each step took far too much effort.
I opened the door to the 'fresher and fell onto my hands, standing up required precision and effort I just couldn't muster. I stared up at Mist; he had been waiting for me. No. He's got control of my collar, and this is how it all starts.
"Where's your muzzle? Hrrm?" I flattened my ears, I had forgotten about the fucking thing. I was tired, and so sick... I just stared at his feet. I didn't want to ask him for help, and I knew if I even tried to speak, I'd only start coughing and gagging. The world pressed down on me, harder than before. I felt like I was dying, what's the matter with me?
Mist seemed unsurprised, he stepped over me and entered the 'fresher. I heard water running, ostensibly as he cleaned the muzzle off. I laid there on my stomach, holding my paws over my aching head, feeling sicker by the moment. Bitter laughter surfaced in my mind, as I concluded that puking was probably not possible now. The heaving, though, that was going to hurt.
He stood over me, and flicked one of my ears with a claw. "Get up. Follow me, Keman. I told you that you'd want your muzzle back on. You're a smart boy, do you think what you were breathing earlier isn't addictive?" I stared up at him with bloodshot eyes, making the connection. Oh, shit. "It's designed to be addictive, so get up!"
I followed him on all four, hanging my head. I didn't want to, in fact, I knew what was coming. I hated the association my mind was about to make, and I could do nothing to prevent it. The muzzle was about to make me feel good.
Mist was waiting for me at the door of what I still refused to think of as my room. He held the muzzle out in a paw, and his smile was huge.
"Put it on," he said, pushing it close to my mouth. I looked away. "You'll feel better with it on, right away, trust Mist on that fact." I stared up at him, and then looked at the floor. "Muzzle up, Keman. Do it now." He raised his voice, "If you make me put it on you, I'll thread it on so tight you'll spend the rest of the day heaving your guts out. Do you want that?"
I took it from him and stared at it, feeling weak as a puppy. I could come up with no resistance, he had won this, for now.
The muzzle was mainly two thick metal bands that would surround my jaws, one in the front, the other closer to the tip. I saw locking tabs at the point where they would touch when pressed together. The padding was shiny and black, waterproof, and I could clearly see the threaded engagement poking out, down in the base. That was the part my front teeth were having trouble with, I was forced to bite down on it continuously. The nasal tubes were fat and slick, made of a rubbery gel, designed to compress. I noticed a spring loaded "D" ring at the bottom, under where my chin would go.
My ears went flat as I guided the tubes into my nostrils, which were sore. It hurt much worse going in, this time, and I stared with wide eyes at the metal now in my field of vision. I knew it was about to swing down like the axe of the headsman, severing me from the one tool which could help me escape: my fangs. I parted my lips to let the threaded part inside. Once it was far enough on, the two halves snapped tight, squeezing my jaws shut with a ratcheting click. The speed of the action surprised me, even though I knew it was coming.
Mist handed me the tool I had used earlier. With a metallic grinding sound that vibrated my skull, the threaded part spun up against my tongue, caught the tube, and the muzzle pulled itself up onto my head. I released the pressure against the activation stud, hoping he would leave it that way.
"All the way..." He reached forward and shoved my finger against it, squeezing my paw in his. I whimpered through my mouth, a wet gurgle around the tube. The mechanism started back up, and the whole thing tightened down further, the tubes sank the last inch into my nose with a wet squish. He plucked the tool out of my paw, and I couldn't breathe. The ache in my stomach was back, and I tried very hard to ignore the desire to swallow the tube pulling against the back of my tongue. Where I had hoped that the muzzle could be looser this time, it was now tighter than ever.
"Up, on the bed. Hook yourself up, Keman. You can do it." Mist crossed his arms and watched patiently.
I jumped up on the bed, and found the end of the braided hose. I jabbed it at the metal tip of the muzzle, but I couldn't get it to engage. It had been so easy, before, but now it seemed like it didn't fit. I turned and looked at Mist with wide eyes. I can't breathe.
"Doesn't fit, does it." Mist walked up to me and I held the hose out to him, but he ignored it, staring at me. "You forgot to wash your muzzle, Keman. That's your job, not mine." I was running out of air, oh, fuck. "It doesn't fit, because I've instructed the system to prevent its insertion. The same way I can lock it on, I can also lock it out." I tried to whimper, I tried to draw a breath, but air wouldn't come. I wanted to howl in despair.
"Next time, you'll remember, won't you?" I need to breathe!
I flattened my body to the bed and shut my eyes to defend against my approaching panic. It rushed towards me like a screaming freight train, while I stood motionless on its tracks. I had no idea what I might try at the end. My claws would go to the muzzle, and I'd probably rip my face to shreds trying to get it off.
I'm dying.
This is it.
My lungs pulled, hard, harder. I couldn't stop them from trying.
Mist yanked the hose from my hand and clicked it home into the muzzle. I gasped in a deep breath of sweet smelling air. I pulled breaths as hard and as fast as the system allowed.
Calm violently crashed into my mind. The cold hand of Dog reached into my head and squeezed my brain. I felt each hair in my body relax, and I hadn't even realized they were all pulled so tightly. I felt good, then I felt better, and then way better, still. Euphoria slid down into me, and I fought it, but only for a moment, this time. The surge of pleasure would have left my dick leaking, if not for the parasite, but I got hard, anyway. I stumbled drunkenly around in my head, feeling my heart start to race. Distant knowledge of addiction, drug exposure, side effects, inhibition, it all faded under the fury of the bliss, the raging storm of pleasure.
Mist softly rubbed my head between my ears, and tears dripped from between my eyelids, which I kept shut tight. I was crying, because I wanted my Alpha to come and save me from this horror. I felt terrified that when he did, I wouldn't want to go. Not with how good this felt, nothing in my life had ever felt so wonderful.
Mist placed something long and round into my paw, then that hand was guided down between my legs. It slid into my sheath with a push and a twist, locking in place. I felt the cath inside it automatically slip into my bladder, the 'site pulsed and twisted, then went silent. I opened my eyes and stared, my glassy look of hatred had abated, for now.
"Enjoy this while you can, Keman. Pretty soon, you'll start earning every bit of it. Oh yes, this doesn't come without a price."
I shut my eyes, and hoped he was wrong.