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Working for Biological Synthetics Corp. 2011-0805.0314

Tom Warner was the junior partner in Biological Synthetics Incorporated. He still is, and will be for a few decades; he has no intention of leaving such a lucrative business. Even if his senior partner Mark Harris tried to buy him out.

Mark has no intention of trying that. He may be a few years older, and it was his dream to make synthetic organic blood, but it was Tom's connections that made the technology possible.

Now a decade after incorporation. BSI had used DNA recombination to make blood plasma and red and white cells; then whole organs. They had no antigens so nobody would reject them. It was no longer necessary for medical staff to consider blood type and matching; BSI products were universal donors.

In fact they worked on humans and animals. Remember that animal transplants work because their proteins are too different; BSI product have none. They just go in and work.

Humans loved em. No waiting for transplants, no anti-rejection drugs for the rest of their lives, no infection or disease from compromised immune systems. Docs loved em too, just take out the diseased organs and put in new BSI ones. Fully organic so they work the same except they're better, stronger, faster.

Zoos loved the animal versions. No longer did conservationists like the International Union for Conservation of Nature have to worry about ranking species as 'Least Concern', 'Near Threatened', 'Vulnerable', 'Endangered', 'Critically Endangered' or 'Extinct in the Wild'. Just get DNA samples from as many animals as possible, an extension of existing tagging or radio- collaring programs.

Then in a BSI lab, sequence just the part of the DNA that was different from other animals. Use the taxonomic hierarchy to discover the few percent of the whole DNA that changes. Now you can churn out copies of endangered species, synthetic maybe but fully organic, totally real, totally indis- tinguishable from the natural ones!

Except the labs checked what differed among individuals of the same species. It used to be that cheetahs were vulnerable endangered species because of a genetic bottleneck that made all cheetahs in the world virtually identical. If you moved a tissue sample from one cheetah in the wild to another in a zoo, it wouldn't be rejected.

The zoo cheetah couldn't tell the difference. That was bad because any diseases in the wild would kill zoo cheetahs as well. That's why they were so in danger of extinction.

That is, they were until Mark and Tom, and BSI. Now there're thousands of the fastest land mammal in the world zooming around at over sixty miles an hour at a sprint, beating the stuffing out of antelopes. That doesn't en- danger the antelope species, because they're BSI products too.

*

One day Tom decided to look around at another branch of the company, that made animal-human DNA hybrids. They were human enough to walk nearly upright and understand commands, animal enough to have no civil rights. And they were BSI synthetics, not natural beasts, so they had no animal-abuse protection either. The worst of both worlds, I suppose.

Tom went to the Carnivorous Mammal House, the building that housed cat-like and dog-like DNA mixes in kennels like dumb animals. In the Feliformia wing, he went to the Felidae section. It was kinda like a big zoo, except that his company made these mixes. He stopped at one of the PumaPard cages.

She was quite obviously female, a fine specimen of adolescent. She was on her knees as she was trained, her legs wide for balance and her furry breasts bouncing merrily as she breathed. As a DNA mix, she wore no clothes, just the fur and leather collar.

All the DNA mixes in this compound were Recom Level Four Generation Two. A PumaPard is a cross between a Cougar and a Leopard, and Tom stopped his tour to admire her light cream fur with dark almost-rosettes. She looked like a furry human woman with a cat head.

And like a dumb animal, it was perfectly natural for her to wear just the fur. It curved over her luscious body from her long digitigrade hind paws to her low forehead and short muzzle. Except her pale green-amber eyes and pink nose, and of course her palms.

What would have been a human's hands had short fingers with retractable claws. Like all mixes she'd been taught quite severely never to use them on a human. Her collar held a nametag, and Tom read the name Sally.

"Greetings, Master", Sally's voice purred. All humans were Master or Mistress to every mix. Like all mixes, she had a little trouble fully voicing the G, T, and R sounds, but they were there. And like all felines, Sally rather hummed the R, NG, M and S. It was obviously not a human voice but perfectly intelligible.

"Greetings, Sally", Tom replied. Sally had ducked her head in respect as he walked up, and raised it to level to acknowledge her name. She was ready to obey. "Let me pet you", Tom said as he put his hand through the bars.

"Yes, Master", Sally replied and ducked her head. As she was trained, she moved her torso a little forward to give Master easy access to her. Tom liked the way her folded knees let her rest her furry rump on her extended ankles. Sally had learned to enjoy a Master's hand petting the top of her head, and Tom rubbed behind her ears.

There was a distinct purr from the PumaPard Sally. She'd been made on contract with a man who wanted a domestic servant and housekeeper, and he'd paid for the entertainment package as well. Sally wasn't specifically a sex slave as so many mixes were. Just human enough to be fun in bed, always be submissive, and never get a headache.

*

Despite Sally's DNA from big wild felines, she was perfectly tame and the size of a human woman. Her fur swelled over her hips and the luscious curves of her very human breasts, hiding the nipples unless she was specifically excited by a man's direct fondling. Her Owner would most definitely enjoy Sally's C-size, supported by the sinews and muscles in her designer body.

Tom had rather a soft spot in his heart for felines. He liked their soft fur and short snouts, curved to his hand. He knew Mark rather preferred canines with their long snouts, and particularly the vulpines' narrow ones. Each to his own, they say.

Sally kept purring, louder than a house cat. Her throat was built so she could vibrate breathing in or out, and she wanted the touch of a Master's hand, so she purred on the intake and softly begged for more. Tom was wil- ling to indulge her as his fingers felt down her head and under her jaw.

She liked it a lot, because she'd been made that way. All mixes were 'quick-grown', continuing the rapid body development started in the 'wet- tank' artificial womb. They only took two years to grow up as much as a human at sixteen. because people wouldn't wait that long for a product.

The R4G2 mixes were grown fairly generically, their minds never developed as much as a human. They'd be 'mentally challenged' all their lives, made so on purpose so they'd be too dumb to get bored while being totally obedient, or reason their way from being essentially slaves.

The R4G1s weren't even that bright, just barely had language skills. Once finally trained, they'd be low- or no-skill labor such as maids. The mixes made as pets were even dumber, almost like dumb animals except they knew how to use a toilet.

Sally's mind would never develop. Instead her masters trained her mind with a refinement of Pavlov's dog training. The rewards and punishments were administered through tiny wires permanently embedded in her brain.

Actually, the mix brain was grown around a matrix of wires. When hooked to an external computer, the focused series of shocks would condition the mix quickly, thoroughly and totally inescapably. The resulting forced neural connections were even stronger and longer-lasting than dumb animal instincts.

No mix could evade its forced training any more than it could grow an extra head. The brain was shocked even in the wet-tank to force it to work the body; and the Mix Mind Bender as it was called would be used as the mix grew up to force-feed its brain whatever submissive demands humans chose to impose.

*

Sally PumaPard was totally obedient and submissive. The image of the man who'd paid to have her DNA mixed and grown into a sexy femfur slave had been quite literally burned into her brain. She'd unquestioningly do whatever he commanded unless it meant hurting another human.

She could never purposely kill a Master or Mistress, or allow a human to be hurt. She'd obey any human unless a command conflicted with that. She'd keep herself from harm unless it conflicted with the first two conditions.

That meant she'd purposely kill herself or let herself be killed if it would directly protect a human. She'd respond to a direct threat by putting herself in the way of a human, even if he ordered her away, if it meant protecting someone.

She wasn't nearly bright enough to see the potential for misuse of her forced conditioning. An evil human could make her hurt herself or lie, cheat or steal just by threatening a human's life. Even his own.

Some of the brighter mixes had been trained to intervene, just to prevent such misuse. A dead mix can't commit crimes or give false testimony. And the rules would let a mix hit a human, even hurt him, if it protected his life. Usually this just meant acting like a guard dog for the blind, not letting him or her cross a street or tumble down stairs.

Sally wasn't bright enough to ponder any of this. She'd just react at the time. Right now she was on her knees nude in a cage letting Tom Warner pet her. He was fondling her a lot more, and a lot more meaningfully, than he petted his coal-black American Shorthair mixbreed at home.

And Sally enjoyed the attention. She was perfectly aware his human male body scent was changing, so he liked what he was doing. He ordered the PumaPard close, and she scooted obediently right up to the cage bars, even slipping her wide-spread knees through to squeeze closer. She knew what men wanted next.

Although she was only as old as a human at fifteen her body had gone through puberty, scaring the helpless furtoy with bleeding until the vet had taken her aside and explained it. Sally didn't really know what kittens were or how they occurred, but the vet told her it was like the very young mixes she'd seen brought to her kennel.

Her body was grown up enough now that a trainer took Sally to see a wet- tank, and she ooh'ed and aah'd at the mixes growing in the fluid. Kittens were like the little feline mixes she saw, and her body was getting ready to make them naturally inside her.

That seemed quite disgusting to the young female PumaPard. Why do that inside when it was easier, cleaner and safer to do it in a wet-tank? Sally begged her Master Vet not to make her make kittens, and he laughed at her and said she didn't quite have the right parts.

Sally was actually quite relieved, and her tears seemed quite human. It was strange to see them form on her furry cat face. She begged to ask, "If I don't have the right parts, why is my body bleeding?" It was a serious question, and it meant that the young femfur had some reasoning ability.

But of course the answer was that the seed mix that made Sally a PumaPard made her female, PumaPards were felines, and females made kittens. There was a way to stop the bleeding, and Sally was an early model so it could be fixed before the next batch.

In the meantime, the humans had to wait for her body to grow up, because the changes of puberty made her an adult and she wouldn't be useful to her owner if they were stopped too soon. So Sally had to be content with the things that were shaped like males and gave her pleasure.

*

Tom Warner was petting Sally PumaPard through the bars of her cage, and Sally was purring her enjoyment. She'd been made so she sensed he liked what he was doing to her, so she liked it too. She knew that some mixes had hanging parts and others had bulges as she did.

She was dimly aware she wanted to see Tom's body. All of him, because he was male, like her Owner. She wanted him to touch her, caress her, cage and restrain her, because she'd been made that way. She wanted to obey Tom, although she wasn't bright enough to know him, just his scent, because he'd come here to pet her before.

She also wasn't bright enough to worry that he sometimes petted Anna, the Liger in the next cage to the left, or Janine the somekitty to the right. Anna was a hybrid of male Lion and female Tiger, but Sally didn't need to know that, so she didn't.

And she had no clue that Janine was a feline mutt, stuffed so full of pieces from different feline species her life was shortened by DNA con- flicts that should never have gotten past the KawaSuki AutoSynth control protocols.

Just because the International Union for Conservation of Nature had listed some of Janine's donor species 'Critically Endangered' or even 'Extinct in the Wild', BioSyn's squints had stuffed the DNA together just to see if it'd work. These guys spent their working lives staring into microscopes or display screens, and wouldn't know a real live animal if one trampled them.

None of the mixes knew any of this; even if they were told, it was so far above their limited minds they'd never remember. The products were domestic servants and pleasure slaves, paid for mostly by rich bored men to indulge their sexual fetishes.

Sure, there were some men who bought males; and nobody judged, if they wanted to keep their jobs. And some women bought females for sex, but mostly just as companions, like pets who could cook and clean, and walk and talk. More often the women bought males trained for the same duties, but also for, er, personal relaxation. Again, no employees judged, they just asked so they could force the desired behavior on the helpless fur slaves who were just products.

*

Sally PumaPard wasn't two years old yet, but she was old enough that her body wanted to be close to Masters. Soon enough she'd be sold, and be cargo to go to her Owner's home outside the USA. He'd want her close then.

Sally wanted Master Owner to pet her, hold her, hug her. She'd learned about fondling, and her R4G2 mix mind was weak enough she didn't connect her submissive feelings with what humans knew as lust. She didn't have that feeling, just a need to please. Any human, any way they commanded.

Tom Warner had commanded Sally, so she was on her knees in her cage and he petted her. She wanted it and begged for more, because her forced mind made her want his pleasure. His scent drove her training.

Tom liked catgirls. He'd started out reading translated Japanese fantasies and surfing the Internet, and the fanboys wanted sex. Especially the ones who wrote about kidnapping women and forcing drugs on them to turn them into randy cat/girl mixtures.

But those dummies just dreamed about it, had no idea how to do it. Tom and Mark had figured it out, made the DNA changes and made products like Sally who didn't really know what sex meant but had the bodies for it, and weren't really bright enough to become emotional hazards.

Sally PumaPard wanted more. She deeply wanted Master Owner to explore her warm furry body, let her give Him pleasure, everything He commanded, anything He desired. She was trained to scent his desires and fulfill them. Tom was the dominant male, and although her regular Guards were stronger and power- fully male, she was with Tom.

Actually some humans had medical needs they satisfied with DNA transplants from BSI Medical. They could even become Fursons, humans modified with syn- thetic animal DNA to become better, stronger, faster. By law the treatments had to change a human's appearance so athletic organisations could tell they weren't pure humans.

One of the Guards Sally particularly wanted to fondle her had been enhanced with Ram DNA, among others. He'd wanted to be, ahem, more of a man. BSI had used Bull DNA on other men, but there were problems with increased aggression that would probably be useful in the military but not in civilian life.

As an aside, Biological Synthetics Incorporated had been greatly funded by the US Department of Defense. Their Advanced Research Projects Agency had fueled the communications advances that eventually became the Internet. BSI was sure the Commies were working with DNA Enhancement as well as all the two-bit dictators of the world.

Some of the new Advanced Soldiers were already making life difficult for narco-traffickers. Elephant strength, Bull aggression, Tiger nastiness. The AS's were tough to kill, tough to blackmail, tough to outwit. They'd been gung-ho Rambo types even before the DNA treatments made them Captain America nightmares.

The problem was they didn't care for the subtleties of New Age law enforce- ment. It was tough even for their commanders to keep them from rushing in and blowing a place to hell, whoever was there. Collateral damage, they call it.

*

Yer probably wondering what the bloody bleep any of this has to do with Tom Warner fondling sally PumaPard. Well, as I said, she liked a Ram Furson because he was careful not to hurt her but tough enough to enjoy the rough stuff the young PumaPard had learned to enjoy.

With most men, Sally had to be very careful to keep her claws sheathed, even during wild sex, because she was enhanced and she could kill if she wasn't. But with Ralph, she could be her wild cat self, because he could catch her wrists and ankles.

As a matter of fact, Ralph had been training Sally the night before, and he really liked the larger kitty mixes, because he didn't enjoy self- restraint either. A roll in the hay it's called, but it was more like a knock-down wrestlefest, and Sally had really enjoyed the male. Repeatedly.

Wally the Bull Furson had been fooling around the Tigress kennel, doing stuff to Alison and Edith all three liked. Their batch of /Panthera/ had been overdone; they liked it rough, and no mere Mark One Mod Zero human could keep it up with them.

Harry the Horse had joined Wally, and he was big. Hung like a horse, of course. Harry'd been pretty big as a human, but he always figgered there's no such thing as too much, so he went and had his stamina increased as well.

What the big Bull and Horse did to the chained and caged Tigresses made the company newsletter. "The story is true, the names are changed." Of course nobody cared about Alison or Edith, because DNA mixes aren't allowed modesty. But they had big silly grins on their muzzles for days afterward.

Sally PumaPard had lain awake in her cage listening to the Tigresses roar their pleasure and she wanted some herself. Just cause she was only fifteen shouldn't stop her. She begged Tom to chain her and lead her to a private room, and Tom was willing to try her.

*

It wasn't really a chore for Ralph, Wally or Harry to test the DNA hybrids. They were made not very bright, so humans taught them they were 'seed mixes'. The guards were told by Mark and Tom that forcing themselves on mixes wasn't called rape. Men were quite willing to sidestep responsibility, and male mixes had to be tested too.

It was, er, quality control. Sure, that was it. Since mixes weren't human, there were no legal problems using their willing furry warmth, and mixes weren't animals so no moral problems either. Just chain the beast down for a M1M0's safety.

They'd been mind-shocked if they reacted with anger like a trapped animal. The mix tameness was burned into them, but they *were* beasts, careful of the claws and teeth. Sally PumaPard was quite capable of crunching a man's bones, and during wild sex her claws would express and she'd forget to be careful.

So Tom had to do all the thinking. It was an annoying consequence of the master/slave relationship, one they were quite careful to put in the legal disclaimers. "The beast you are about to purchase speaks and obeys, but she's still an animal. Cage her, chain her, restrain her".

And of course all the R4G2s were mentally bent so they'd actually enjoy it. Females would become quite aroused pulling against chains. Dogs were well- known for being aggressive to strangers, tame for Owners. Wolves were nastier, poking strangers and gripping them with bared fangs. Remember a mix can hurt a human to protect his owner.

Remember I said Mark Harris liked canids, particularly vulpines. There were several vixens he tested, and they pleased him by pulling against their collar chains. You may enjoy the image of a naked woman chained to your bed, with fur all over, a sexy bushy tail pounding helplessly and her pointy snout held open for you by a strong muzzle.

What Tom liked was ordering the cats to obey the leash, hobbling their long digitigrade ankles, and chaining their wrists behind their backs under their tails. The chained males would display their sheaths willingly because mixes were made that way.

The females' upthrust breasts received his hands eagerly. Tom ordered Sally to kneel to his leash and tied her neck to the horizontal cage doorway. She could not rise from her knees. Sally PumaPard obediently tilted forward to raise her ankles off the cage straw and folded her hindpaws to present her- self to her day-master Tom.

The man accepted her gift. He'd brought a lightweight whip to the kennel, and tickled her exposed heels lightly. Her helpless body and feeble attempt to escape amused him. He touched her near shoulder and she quieted. Tom slid the whip down her body, not as a threat that he had the right to inflict pain, but as a guide.

He was testing the femfur's training after all, and she was punished if she forgot to obey words, but also if she forgot the guidance of the leather on her warm fur. She knew what he wanted, and slowly moved her arms from her thighs where she knelt. She wasn't reluctant, because she was afraid of the whip, but she also knew better than to move quickly to startle her master.

As Sally moved her forepaws around her hips, Tom ordered her to raise her ropelike tail and guided her to cross her wrists under it. The PumaPard giggled softly as she exposed her sex to her day-master who used a plastic wire tie to hold her wrists together. He liked seeing females show them- selves.

Tom had every right to mount the slave right then and there to test her training. None of the other mixes would mind either. The guards frequently tested them, even the males, and didn't mind mixes watching if they were quiet.

He curled her tail over her back and tied her tailtip to her slave collar. Sally was very attentive and wanted him to use her, but she knew his weight on her tail would hurt. She tried to raise her rump invitingly, and Tom saw her pink puffiness.

Sally had of course noticed her own scent. Anna's Liger snout popped out, but she was too big to get her whole head out to watch. Janine slid hers out to the right of Sally's cage, and greeted Tom softly. He was willing to unlock the feeding slot, which was big enough for Anna's head, if she did something for his head first.

Anna was totally willing to pleasure Tom, any way he commanded. The big tame sex toy female willingly licked Tom, keeping her sharp fangs away from his manhood. Sally was disappointed her day-master left her tied on her knees, but she couldn't be jealous. After all Anna needed to serve men too.

*

It was rather a lot of work for a standard human to keep up with three hot mix femfurs. Anna enjoyed her reward, keeping her mouth open for the entire gift, and accepted Tom petting her ears. Then he turned and waved at Janine, walked over and ordered her to clean him. She loved his male scent and fluid.

It was rather cruel to start the females but not finish them, and Tom was getting older. It was hard for him to satisfy one kitty, and he used the hand tool to ask the guards over to help. Ralph the Ram Furson was on duty that day.

The guy was horny. I mean he had literal horns put in his head in addition to the thick forehead. The resemblance to Pan was intentional, and his mates had given him one of those multiple-tube flute things for a joke. His curly fur was a bit of a bother to clean, so he had the felines lick it.

As Ralph strode over, his hooves clicked on the stone floor and woke up one of the Chrome Collar slaves. The Margay male was in fact gay, because the man who'd paid to have him mixed and seeded was. It didn't change the fact that Mark Seventeen was the oldest mix in the kennel.

He woke up and knelt quietly in his cage with his legs spread as he'd been taught almost a year ago, when he'd been taken from the wet tank. He'd learned quickly enough that a whip hurt, and he could only avoid it by obey- ing Humans, learning Duty and teaching younger mixes.

Mark Seventeen had enjoyed the older mixes training him for sex in the showers. Soon he helped train others and keep them skilled. He rubbed the females as well, exploring their differences with an increasingly skilled tongue.

It was that tongue Ralph had tested. The Margay was tame and quite eager to please. Ralph took several seconds to rub him in places the mix was built to enjoy, then left the disappointed and unfulfilled male who didn't know the big Human words anyway.

The scent of male and female arousal had begun to awaken the other three Chromes, and some of the older Leathers stirred. They were all too well trained to make noise which would anger the Masters. Two younger Guards entered the kennel to take the Chromes aside and test them. Their scent added to the general ambiance.

Meanwhile Ralph had moseyed up to Anna's cage and rubbed her. Not just her head. Female R4G2s have very humanlike breasts and they need them handled. Ralph chose to satisfy the Liger's need as she knelt nude and put her fore- paws on the cage bars. She leaned back, displaying her body to the Master.

As his strong male scent washed away her limited mind she moaned softly. The Liger fem really was hot and needful, and Ralph made a note with his hand to have the kennel's sex rations increased. He tied Anna's wrists to the cold steel bars and unlocked her cage.

Then Ralph did Ram things with the needful Liger.

*

While the kennel guards tested the Chromes one of the Bull Fursons wandered in. Where Ralph had cloven hooves, Derek's single ones made a different click for the chromes to learn to identify. Mixes were used to using their animal senses of smell and hearing, and it took some training for them to use their limited minds to connect sight with scent with hearing with which Human to obey.

While Ralph was Ramming Anna, Derek tied Janine's front paws to her cage front and opened her. Well, the cage door first, then the mixed kitty. Her multiple DNA donors hadn't all been female /Panthera/ and her need for sex had been below what her Owner wanted, so she was boosted.

Now Janine was one of the few mixes who could realise what her body compel- led her to need, and was able to beg for sex. Other mixes knew they needed Human attention, and the females' ovaries would lie heated inside them. They even knew they were satisfied when they were used.

So male and female mixes could learn to beg to be used, because they remem- bered the satisfaction from training. Janine had known what she needed even before First Sex Training, and as a mix she had no modesty or inhibitions in crouching down and presenting herself.

But the silly kitty hadn't known which Humans could scratch her itch. She annoyed the women Guards of her kennel, and her Trainers with her behaviour. Now in her kennel cage with Derek, she could be wild and enjoy his hard Bull- hood in her mouth or between her legs. Repeatedly.

And the Furson was male enough to keep up with her. Tom Warner was just a M1M0 and although he was in charge he really couldn't satisfy even one mix female. As I said, this batch of /Panthera/ had cooked too long and was unusually needful.

So Tom warmed the PumaPard up and watched Harry clop in to hoof the female. He'd also arranged for some of the stronger employees to have a turn, and of course it was simply training, so ladies visited too. If yer a prude or naive ya prolly think only the ladies used the male mixes.

To be perfectly frank, Mark Seventeen preferred the males himself. Being tied down to a rubbing table and done roughly was fun, and his visitor today was a repeat from Intake.

William Harris was only distantly related to BSI senior partner Mark Harris. As such he got no special treatment, but he did know more than most employees about injecting wild animals with the company's goo that made them sleep while pieces were cut off to do DNA analysis.

Wil wasn't the head of Intake and he liked it that way. He wanted to get ahead on his own knowledge. At the moment he was tying Mark Seventeen down on a pad on top of the First Chrome's cage, to put him at a height convenient for the Master to explore the nude Margay.

Mark was First Chrome, the kennel's mix leader, because he was almost six- teen months old and had two more until he Grew Up enough to be as old as a Human at sixteen years. Like all Felids, his penis had barbs at the end stiff enough to pleasure the ladies but soft enough not to hurt.

Unlike animal cats, he had a short sheath that hid most of his pleasure organ until it was wanted. And like all mixes, it faced forward from his groin to fit human women. His testicles were nice and large, and hung like a human man's, except Mark's off-white underside fur continued past his scrotum and halfway down his thighs.

Male mixes have a baculum to keep them aimed for a human's entertainment. Even if the animal they're mixed from doesn't. But while the Canidae have actual bone, the Felidae have cartilage so they're more flexible. It was this flexibility that Wil Harris wanted to test.

With sex acts in the cages and shower room, Wil used Mark Seventeen. It would be called violation if it was done to humans, but it was just training mixes. Their minds were wired to accept it and beg for more. Mark had begun to purr softly when Ralph the Ram Furson had tested his tongue, but whimpered softly when the Master had left him for Anna Liger.