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Funding the Prison For Sunkit By Draconicon

Lyle shook his head as he looked down at the schedule for the day. The orders were printed in short, clipped lines, and never took up the full page it was printed on. Still, it wasn't common for there to be just one name on the list.

"Frank Mason, father of two, unmarried. Sentenced for life imprisonment after two incidence of drunken driving and manslaughter, breaking the conditions of your previous parole, and attempted rape. You've been a busy man, haven't you, Frank?"

He looked up from the page to glance at the prisoner on the table in front of him. Usually, the men that were sentenced to life imprisonment had a few more years behind him, but this 'Frank' was barely thirty. The children must have been fairly young, Lyle thought. A pity that they had to look at this as their father.

The prisoner spat off the table, barely missing Lyle's boots. He shook his head at the orange-suited man, letting out a soft sigh as he wrote a few notes.

"Prisoner remains belligerent in his final moments. Must seek file to find cause."

"What the fuck are you talking about, final moments? Governor told me that this was life! I made that deal to get the fuck away from the death penalty."

"Ah, so you can speak, albeit like a thug."

Setting down the note, he pulled up a chair and looked down on his fellow man. They were the only two in the room, and he doubted that any others on the prison's staff would be coming down to talk at this point.

He leaned forward, anyway. In the huge room that he staffed, he preferred to be close to his subjects as much as possible. After all, in their last moments, it never hurt to let them have a little human contact. Not that they wouldn't get more later; it would just be in a form that none of them were used to.

"Tell me, Frank. Was there a reason you threw everything away?"

"It wasn't my fault."

"I never said it was."

"...If I tell you, do I get to go back to my cell?"

"I'm not offering you a deal, I'm afraid. I'm just curious, and would like to know before you can't answer me again."

"Then fuck you!"

This time he couldn't avoid the prisoner's spit. Picking up the note again, he flicked the paper against the little glob and knocked it off of his cheek.

"Very well, Frank. I wanted to give you a chance to get anything else off your chest. But since you've so eloquently proven you don't want to talk about anything save your benefit, we can get started."

Besides, the prison won't want to wait much longer. With the auction tomorrow, they'll want him ready for it.

Ignoring the prisoner's complaints, he gathered his tools. He grabbed a slim metal band and wrapped it around Frank's neck, giving it a slight tug to make sure that the two ends could connect. They slipped into each other and clicked, and shortly after, grew hot.

"What the fuck, man?! What the fuck is that?!"

"Your collar."

"You're killing me! What do I need a collar for?"

"For your new life."

"You some kind of cultist or something?"

"Oh, close. Close, but not quite."

He let the band rest against Frank's neck after it stopped burning, turning to the rest of his materials. A few clumpy, putty-like lumps waited for him, as did several needles. He doubted that they'd need all of it, but it was never a bad thing to be prepared for the worst case scenarios. Flicking his fingers over the needles, he chose one and filled it with a blue liquid.

The prisoner's screams were starting to annoy him as he walked back to the table. He shook his head, considering a recommendation to gag this one after the process was over. It wouldn't lose any oral functionality, and he doubted that anyone would care to hear Frank's howling.

Lyle would have been dishonest if he claimed he took no pleasure from stabbing the prisoner with the needle. The shift from angry words to pained shriek was certainly satisfying. He took his time injecting the drug, and then took more pulling it out before laying it to the side. As he turned for the next needle, he could already see the bubbling effects of the first drug. It wouldn't take long for the large belly and love handles to waste away as the microbials kept alive in the drug-solution ate through the excess fat.

The time for talk was over, as he ignored the questions from his subject. The next solution had to be injected quickly. While the body needed to be slimmed down for the procedure, it couldn't waste away too much. He filled the next needle with a red solution, and returned.

He jabbed the needle into the prisoner's leg. The muscles tensed hard as he left a small dose of the drug inside, and he turned the needle to the other thigh. Jab, jab, inject, inject. He worked his way up, following the outer edges of Frank's body, always leaving just a little bit of the serum where he stabbed, until he reached the neck and had formed a 'seal' of the injection points, limiting the work to the prisoner's torso.

The process was working nicely, Lyle observed. Frank's stomach had flattened remarkably, and the number of pounds he'd had in his sides had shrunk dramatically. Even his chest was flat again, something that he imagined most people would be thankful for.

Not this man, though. Frank was still shouting at the top of his lungs, and it was grating on Lyle's patience. He pressed the bloody needle to the prisoner's throat.

"I would advise you to stop shouting. It is very distracting, and this is delicate work."

"FUCK YOU! FUCK! THAT HURTS!"

"That is because you are being eaten alive from the inside. And the more you scream, the longer it will take for me to inject the chemical that will kill the microbes devouring you. Now, how much longer do you plan on shouting?"

Truth be told, the whimpering was nearly as annoying, but it didn't echo so severely in their chamber. Nodding in approval, Lyle turned back to his needles. He smiled as he picked up three more, each filled with a different color serum, each one with a different function. He returned to the table once more, and stabbed the first of the needles into Frank's stomach.

"This will cease their activities, you may be glad to hear."

Frank didn't seem to have any more complaints left in him, a relief to Lyle's ears. He shook his head and took the other two needles. The first trailed a line down the prisoner's arms and legs, with a similar jab-inject pattern as he had left around the torso. However, this had a different function, as the limbs began to bulge with muscle.

The final needle was a little more tricky, but Lyle had done this enough times to not be concerned. He forced Frank's head to the side, far enough to hear several creaks and cracks as it was positioned, and drove the needle into his spine.

That brought the screaming back in short order, but Lyle forced the serum in hard. It didn't take long to empty the vial, and he withdrew it with practiced ease.

"What...what the fuck..what the fucking hell was that?"

"Collar, activate voice-blocking route A."

"Gck!"

It wasn't just the sound of the man's voice cutting out that made Lyle smile. As he collected the putty-like substance, he could hear the creaking and cracking of bones being forcefully re-aligned, and in the cases of some, growing. He turned, letting his lips continue to curl upwards as Frank spasmed amidst his bondage, his hands clenching and unclenching and his back arching off the table.

"Don't worry. Soon, you'll be through it. And then, it will be off to the auction block, and I will never have to hear your wretched screaming again."

Lyle began laying the black putty along the prisoner's chest. Wherever he stuck it, it remained, no matter how much Frank squirmed. As the prisoner's thick body hair began to grow thicker, Lyle lifted a small electric prod, tapping them to the black lumps. On contact, they began to grow, spreading over his body and leaving him covered in a shimmering black coat.

"Now, Frank, I'm afraid all that's left to do is wait."

He pulled up his chair once more, crossing his hands in his lap as he watched the shift. The screaming would have been terrible without the collar; yet another reason he was glad the Obedience Division had developed it. It made his work so much more peaceful once it was fully integrated into the subject.

The black putty, released from its constraints, became latex as it spread over the changing prisoner. It joined with the other lumps and continued spreading, running down the furry belly and down over the forming sheath at the prisoner's groin. As it went over his face, bulging outwards into a muzzle, it seemed to gain speed, rushing over the rising ears that grew up along the sides of his face.

In perhaps the most dramatic part of his transformation, Frank lunged against his restraints, his back fully off of the table as his spine seemed to slither out from above his rump. Flesh followed it, but for a moment there was a whip of pure bone in plain sight. The latex slid down over the new limb as it formed a long, thick tail, almost rudder like in appearance.

The latex spread down his arms and legs, covering him from head to toe in the shiny material. Even his new claws atop webbed fingers and toes were covered, blunted, leaving them little more than decoration rather than the weapons they could be in their wild cousins.

It had taken so little time for the last serum to do its work, but it had left a fine product. Lyle smiled, pressing a few buttons to release the restraints. Even as Frank leapt up, trying to attack him, he spoke up.

"Initiate behavioral routine Slave 1."

Technically, he didn't have to say the full routine. The programming accepted "Slave-1" for its operating cue as well. But he preferred the full command. It never hurt to make sure that one covered their bases.

The new rubber otter fell to his knees, his hands up in silence begging. He would stay there until ordered to do something else. Lyle didn't need anything, however; he merely enjoyed the sight of another on their knees. He reached to his waist, pulling out a cell phone.

"Your newest auction item is ready. Please pick him up when you can."

"Thanks, Lyle. Always glad to get your work."

"I know, Harvey, I know. As I am always glad to work with your machinery."

"Hey, I might make it, but you use it. Couldn't keep this whole prison going without you. Man, all these lifers would be hell to pay for, but now they pay for themselves. Ain't it grand?"

"I suppose it is, Harvey." He looked at the statuesque otter. A waste of a man, now barely a useful slave. "I suppose it is."

The End