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Obedience Schooled

Chapter 1

By Gideon Kalve Jarvis

Commissioned by Guri

Author’s Note: This takes place in a “null time” period during the events of the “Human Bitches” series. It should be considered canon, but should not have any effects on the ongoing “Human Bitches” series.

“This is absolutely ridiculous,” declared Savannah, her pert nose wrinkling as she stormed out of the well-appointed bedroom, her designer dress swishing around her thighs, high heels clicking on the hardwood floor of the lushly-appointed mansion. “Grandmother’s gone senile, and I’m sure any court in the country could prove it!”

Following not far behind her eldest daughter, Sadie Demol had a conciliatory expression on her face, her two other daughters trailing behind her, still stunned by their grandmother’s words. She wasn’t especially happy with her mother’s words either, but she could see that the elder Demol had made more than a few good points. The most prominent of these points was this: the three Demol girls, Sadie’s daughters, were well on their way to being spoiled rotten.

“She just can’t write us out of her will!” Savannah fumed, rounding on her mother, her mother’s and grandmother’s grey eyes stormy with her displeasure. “There’s got to be something your lawyers can do about this, mother.” She turned up her perfect, aristocratic nose as she recalled her grandmother’s terms for being written back into the will, disgust evident on her face. “There is no possible way that I’m going to subject myself to…to…to obedience school as though I were some sort of dog!”

‘Obedience school’ was Savannah’s term, not Grandmother Demol’s, and it was one of the most degrading terms that could have been used under the circumstances. Of course, there were a great many degrading terms that Savannah, Zoey, and Phoebe had quite regularly used, of which their more liberal-minded grandmother simply did not approve. From their earliest days, the three Demol girls had been raised almost exclusively by keptmorphs, while Sadie worked to maintain her mother’s extensive financial fortune. During all those years, not once did Grandmother Demol remember ever hearing a single word of thanks from her granddaughters. Well…perhaps from Zoey, the middle child, and a natural peacemaker in her family, but Zoey had problems with her self-esteem, and typically yielded to the pressure put upon her by her sisters and all the girls’ friends.

Their friends! Not only had the girls never shown gratitude for the countless hours given to them by their surrogate parents, they had actively belittled them, derided them, treated them like virtual slaves, and, as though to add insult upon all these injuries, as soon as they’d started highschool, they’d almost immediately taken up with what Grandmother Demol regarded as the worst sort of crowd: bigots.

Grandmother Demol, in her day, had been an active campaigner for equal rights for various repressed minorities. The minorities of her day, of course, had been human, but she’d retained her open mind and crusader’s spirit even when the repressed minorities of the new generation happened to have decidedly animal-like features. As far as she was concerned, morphs were people, and she wouldn’t and couldn’t abide their continued repression. She’d even started corresponding with the accepted, if unofficial, leader of the free morph movement, Diane Lords, and some of Lords’ rhetoric had begun slipping into Grandmother Demol’s own speech and thoughts. Not only that, Grandmother Demol was an active campaigner and fundraiser for Mercy Lords – Diane’s daughter – as she geared up for her bid for the presidency, knowing full well that Mercy was almost certainly going to give the morphs equal rights under the law, one of the most controversial political actions since the Civil Rights act of 1964.

Somehow, it made sense that Demol’s granddaughters would choose to rebel against her values. After all, that was what teenagers did, and since their “parents” had been morphs, rebelling against them also seemed perfectly normal. What troubled the elder Demol matron, however, was that her granddaughters’ animosity towards her political and social stance seemed to be derived not from simple bigotry or a desire to try out new ideas. Rather, their hatred for morphs seemed to come from what they regarded as the amount of money Grandmother Demol put into trying to bring morphs their equal rights under the law – money that they felt was rightfully theirs.

Quite old now, Grandmother Demol had given birth to her daughter, Sadie, when she was in her early 40’s, having waited almost too long before having children, the complications from that single birth, as well as the not-long-subsequent death of her husband to kidney failure, ensuring that it would also be her last. Sadie hadn’t waited nearly so long, finding and marrying a man before she was even out of highschool, but her husband had died, as had so many human men, during the peak of the whyker epidemic. Without a partner to help her, she had to devote herself to business just to meet the demands of keeping her mother’s extensive finances afloat. The neglect she’d shown to her daughters, trying to buy their love with money rather than time, had finally born its expected evil fruit, for though her daughters regarded their mother with respect, understanding what she’d gone through for them, they didn’t love her, and she couldn’t influence their behavior. At this point in their lives, Sadie really wasn’t sure that anyone could.

Grandmother Demol, however, felt quite differently on the matter. She was quite convinced, after some serious research and the advice of her close friend Diane, that there was indeed a way that her granddaughters could be reached, and even changed for the better. Faced with the prospect of handing over her hard-earned financial fortune to three spoiled, bigoted brats, a very real possibility now that Savannah, her eldest granddaughter, had finally entered college, Grandmother Demol called her daughter and granddaughters to her bedside, and gave them an ultimatum.

“Learn to walk a mile in the shoes of the ones you hate,” she’d told her granddaughters as they’d hovered by the side of her sickbed, “or you can learn to walk without a red cent of my money.”

What this meant, as Grandmother Demol’s estate lawyer very clearly explained, with a minimum of legalese to cloud his listeners’ comprehension, was that the three Demol girls had to prove they were deserving of the Demol inheritance. The only way they were going to prove such a thing, was by having their mother enroll them under the care of a professional morph trainer, signing the paperwork that would essentially remove their rights for the duration of their training. In other words, if they were going to get the money, they had to be shown exactly how morphs lived and were raised, and go through that upbringing themselves. Of course they could always break such a contract at any time. However, they would also lose access to their grandmother’s millions in the process.

“This is utterly unreasonable,” Savannah continued with her tirade. “There’s no way that we can possibly be legally required to go through with something so degrading. Treating us like morphs! The nerve! We’re people, not animals!”

“What sort of a name is Spike, anyway?” Phoebe, the youngest of the girls, chimed in, looking at the as-yet-unsigned paperwork in her mother’s hands. “That’s not the name of a trainer. That’s the name of a pet.”

Brown-haired Zoey flushed at the words of her sisters, never having liked hearing some of the nasty things they or their friends said about morphs, but kept silent. Compared to her sisters, older and younger, Zoey wasn’t good-looking at all, at least in her own estimation. Where Savannah and Phoebe took after their mother, their bodies slender, willowy, and aristocratically elegant, Zoey was more plump and “settled” in appearance, with an embarrassing muffin top that made her ashamed to wear swimsuits, or anything that showed off any amount of naked skin. Instead of the curly black locks of her mother’s hair, or the wavy platinum blonde hair of Savannah, or the golden curls of Phoebe, Zoey’s hair was a more drab light brown in color, and though she dyed it to be more like Savannah’s shade, she’d always felt somehow lesser than either her older sister, the queen of the family, or her younger sister, the princess. She was just the middle sibling, the nobody who filled in the empty space between the two really beautiful daughters.

“My mother wouldn’t make statements like this if she wasn’t serious about them, girls,” Sadie said gently, her tone as conciliatory as her expression. “As you well know, Savannah, she hires only the very best lawyers. If she says receiving training like a morph is the only way you’ll inherit her money, then she’s made absolutely certain that is exactly what has to happen if you want to be in her will.” The dark-haired thirtysomething woman raised her hands in a display of helplessness. “I’m sorry, girls, but what Grandma says is what will just have to be.”

“Fine,” snapped Savannah, wheeling around. “Finish up the paperwork and send it to my room. I’ll get to it when I’m back.”

So saying, the picture-perfect blonde, knowing full well that her looks were good enough for her to make a decent living as a professional model, stormed down the stairs of her family’s mansion, toward the large front doors. Nobody had to ask where she’d be, or when she’d be back: the answers would be “out,” and “when I’m back,” the same answers as they’d always been.

“I guess I’m going out, too,” Phoebe said, rolling her eyes in her best sophomoric expression, one of a repertoire she’d carefully developed over the years. “I’ll sign the papers when I’m back, Sadie. Just leave my copy on my bed when you’re done with them.”

Phoebe knew how much it hurt her mother calling her “Sadie” rather than “mom,” like she’d done when she was smaller, or “mother,” like Savannah, the perfect young aristocrat, always did. She didn’t give either Zoey or Sadie a second glance as she trotted down the stairs as well, taking them two at a time, reaching the front door and stepping outside just as the sound of Savannah’s car could be heard starting up in the front circular driveway.

“I’ll help with the paperwork if you want,” Zoey said, only barely holding back a sigh of resignation.

“It’s all right, Zoe,” Sadie answered, smiling at her daughter, the remnants of her disappointment at her other two daughters’ actions quickly fading. “I’d rather do this alone, actually.”

Leaving Zoey to her own devices, Sadie retired to her in-house office, turning on the computer sitting on top of a large desk on one side of the plushly-appointed room. The office was Sadie’s sanctuary in the house, the one place where she knew she’d never be disturbed except in the most dire of emergencies. She’d been the one to manage the finances of her mother’s business interests for some time now. It wasn’t her inheritance that was on the line here, of course, only that of her daughters. Upon the death of their grandmother – Sadie’s mother – they’d expected to all become part of the perpetually idle rich, letting their mother put her accounting degree to work and invest their money in her typically wise manner, while they reaped the benefits. Well, perhaps Zoey would have taken a more responsible approach, but then again, maybe not, not with her sisters there to pressure her into following their ways.

Now, away from all the distractions of her daughters, and everything outside the office, Sadie settled down at her computer, and pulled up a now-familiar website.

“Junkyard Dog Morph Training Services,” Sadie read out loud, a wry smile on her face. It was immediately apparent from a cursory view of the opening webpage that this wasn’t the sort of obedience school where you got handled gently. Spike, the owner and operator of the business, was pretty obviously a tough customer, terms of service as a military drill instructor and martial arts teacher clearly listed on his online resume, and he didn’t look at all like the kind of person to let someone get away with anything.

“Just what my daughters need,” sighed Sadie, pulling up the online forms she’d need to fill out, besides the ones she’d already printed out for her daughters. My but there were a lot of them! Insurance waivers; legal liability waivers; legal rights waivers…did that mean her daughters would have all the rights of a morph if they signed these papers? Morphs were right on the verge of gaining rights, so it made sense, if you wanted this sort of training, to have some legal recourse to allow the trainer the ability to do what was necessary for his craft. Somehow the thought made Sadie feel strangely…eager, excited, even elated. Here, finally, was someone who could set her daughters straight! Ever since the death of their father, when Savannah could only barely remember him, and her younger sisters not at all, and Sadie had been forced to take full responsibility for supporting her family, she’d felt the deep, abiding guilt of a mother that has failed in her duties to her children. If they’d turned out spoiled, it was her fault. Now, however, she was presented with an opportunity to save her children, to somehow help them come back from the precipice on which they hung. It would be salvation by proxy, of course, and it was obvious it wouldn’t be easy, or comfortable, or likely even pleasant, but if it worked, it was worth anything.

Checking off all the preceding boxes and signing off on all the legal forms, something she was able to do since she was still the legal guardian of her daughters, Sadie them came to the section indicating what services she wanted from this “Spike” character, momentarily entering a state of slight self-hypnoses as she worked her way through the forms. Standard obedience training, check. Submission training, check. Breeding services, check. Physical training services, check. Tutoring services, check. Specific vocational training, not needed. Combat/Bodyguard training, again, no need…wait a moment. Breeding services?

Curiosity piqued, Sadie started to explore the training services website with much more attention than before. Her mother – the girls’ grandmother – had been the one to point Sadie toward the site initially, after the Demol matron had heard about it from her own sources. Spike was a top-ranked morph trainer, and Sadie had thoroughly checked his background and resume over the last week. What she hadn’t checked, since she hadn’t thought she’d need it, was the section of the website devoted to Spike’s sideline: morph breeding services.

A few clicks later, Sadie opened up a video file, a recording of what Spike had decided demonstrated a fairly typical training session, breeding option added. Spike himself appeared on the screen, walking with the calm, steady confidence of a true alpha male, obvious even though he was only visible from the waist up, sleek-muscled, white-furred body and black tribal-style tattoos on display. He was speaking to the camera, turning his eyes every so often to look toward the viewer, or maybe just whoever was following him with a camera, explaining the training situation, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses. Sadie wasn’t paying as much attention at that point to what Spike was saying, though. What interested her was how he said it: Spike’s voice was deep, growly, a savage, primitive rumble like some caveman crawled out of a more primordial, evolution-driven epoch.

His voice was making her wet.

“And here’s the training subject,” Spike continued, pushing open a door into a large room. “As you can see, I’ve got the subject restrained right now. She’s a known disciplinary case, like I was describing, so restraint is an important part of the training.”

Sadie’s eyes grew wide, and she couldn’t hold back a gasp of shock: the “subject” was a naked, nubile poodle girl! The morphgirl couldn’t have been much older than Phoebe, and Sadie was struck (as she too-often was) by the physical similarities between humans and morphs. Some of those similarities were all-too-obvious, since the poodlegirl’s smooth-shaved, snowy white-skinned bottom was thrust straight toward the camera, while she was bent over a sort of padded bench with leather straps on the sides, to which the poodlegirl’s limbs were carefully and securely bound. The girl’s puffball-topped tail was hiked up, held firmly in place by another leather strap, which was connected to a collar around the girl’s neck, leaving her flushed pink pudenda and snowy white anal rosebud on full display. Sadie found herself mesmerized by the desperate squirming of the girl’s perfect, toned bottom, making her tailhole (Sadie couldn’t remember where she’d heard that term, but it struck her as appropriate) clench and wink while her perfectly smooth labia rubbed together.

“Training a morph can get a bit rough at times,” Spike explained, walking over to the poodlegirl, who glared at him with the same pouty, demanding, spoiled rotten expression Sadie had seen from her own daughters far too many times, a glare that would almost certainly have been followed by a stream of invective, if the poodlegirl hadn’t also been fitted with a muzzle and ball gag. “We’re strong-willed, and while our strong wills can make us incredibly loyal and determined when we’re properly trained, even in life-threatening situations, it means it often takes some extra effort to get through to us.” His hand came down suddenly on the poodlegirl’s presented bottom with a loud smack, and the girl’s expression turned from one of arrogant demand to wide-eyed shock, even as Spike began squeezing and then spreading the poor poodle’s presented tush, making her intimate parts even more visually obvious to the camera. “Sometimes a lot of extra effort. For a second generation morph like this, without the benefit of vat subliminal training or sufficient discipline while in her earlier years, this can mean up to three months worth of work for the especially hard cases, followed by months or even years of regular appointments when additional training is requested. So,” he licked his lips slowly, seductively, “we’d better get started.”

Suddenly, Sadie was breathing hard, her legs squeezed tightly together beneath the blue business skirt she was wearing, her red silk panties absolutely soaked through. Even missing Spike’s explanation of the situation at the beginning, even not having seen the morphgirl laid out on the screen before in her life, she immediately recognized the situation, knew why the poodlegirl was there, knew she deserved whatever Spike was about to do to her.

And so help her, Sadie wanted to see that little bitch get exactly what she deserved!

“Sex is a significant part of any morph training session,” Spike was saying as Sadie started paying attention to him again, after he’d delivered several more hard smacks to the pubescent poodle’s bum, until it was a bright, almost luminous red, and tears were streaming down her cheeks as she whimpered piteously. “Whether because it’s happening, or because it’s being denied. Sex for us has a lot to do with dominance and submission, which are the hallmarks of morph training. You’ll notice,” and here he gripped the girl’s bottom again, spreading the cheeks apart, making her whine loudly, for she had to be very tender after the paddling Spike had given her, “that right now the subject is very flushed down here, in her genitals. That’s because her instincts are telling her that she’s being dominated. A subordinate, male or female, knows instinctively that when a dominant, male or female, has you like this, in a situation where you’re on display, completely helpless, the best way to show total submission is sexually.” Spike grinned toothily, and that Smile made Sadie shudder all over with rising arousal. “Our position in a breeding session shows exactly where we morphs stand, either as a dominant, or as a submissive. The subject before me,” he continued, kneeling, the camera getting in close as he began to thrust his muzzle forward, his mouth so close to the girl’s exposed cunny that she had to be able to feel his hot breath on her most delicate parts, “is being forced into the submissive role right now, thanks to the restraints. Additionally, I’ve given her the standard array of hormone injections, and kept her from being able to masturbate for a full twenty-four hours. She was still a bit resistant at the start because of the leftovers of her former behaviors.” There was that grin again, and Sadie couldn’t resist thrusting a hand down the front of her skirt as Spike turned his head away from the camera, fully facing the perfect, delicious-looking little cunny before him. “We’re going to cure this subject of those bad behaviors. Starting right…now.”

Eyes absolutely huge, Sadie discovered she was leaning in unconsciously, gaze glued to Spike’s muzzle as his jaws parted, his long, obscenely thick tongue unfurling like a red carpet. In any other context, this would be pornography under any legal definition of the term. She was about to watch a powerful, dominant, intensely sexy male thoroughly “breed” a helpless, wriggling female right there on her screen, all in the name of “training.”

Letting out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, Sadie paused the video feed, then scrolled down so she didn’t have to look at the way Spike’s tongue was dragging, so slowly and so wetly, through that spoiled little poodlegirl’s flushed and soaking cunny lips. Instead, she looked at the written summary of the training, of which the video only captured a half-hour’s worth of highlights. Tests and charts showing the poodle’s attitude, behavior, and performance before and after her training were clearly displayed, and the difference was so marked, Sadie blinked. There was another video at the bottom, and, feeling daring, Sadie clicked on it. Despite her trepidation, however, it was simply an interview with the poodle after her training was done, the camera focused almost entirely on her face and upper body. She was dressed nicely, what Sadie could see of her, and where once Sadie had seen a spoiled, sullen brat, now she saw a happy, well-adjusted youngster, eager to please and happy to be considered a part of her humans’ family. Judging from the long-term reports on her behavior that followed, the change seemed to be both genuine and permanent, or at least as permanent as anything could be when you were dealing with teenagers.

“Breeding,” Sadie decided, must be a morph euphemism for sex.

Frowning now, Sadie found herself deep in thought. It seemed that sex was a major part of a typical morph’s training, just like Spike had said. If she left the box on the online forms for her three daughters checked, she’d be subjecting them to the full and complete array of what morphs were supposed to endure when they were being trained. Certainly, that was pretty much just what her mother had wanted, to better teach the girls humility and respect. Then again, Sadie was also pretty sure her mother hadn’t known the full extent of what being trained like a morph really meant.

Scrolling back up slightly, Sadie looked at the smiling, happy face of the poodlegirl after she’d been trained, frozen on the screen where Sadie had left the video paused. Scrolling up even more, she looked at the expression of the poodlegirl at the point where Sadie had paused the video. The camera had panned back just enough to let the girl’s entire body be visible, as well as just enough of Spike’s for Sadie to know that Spike was also completely naked, and probably had been since the start of the video, even though she couldn’t see much at the camera’s current angle. Spike’s tongue was squeezed firmly between her bald pussy lips, her juices visibly wetting the muscular pit bull’s whiskers and dripping down his tongue, joining his copious saliva. Her eyes were wide with sexual shock, her whole body tensed in that single moment, knowing there’d be no escape for her, knowing that she was completely at this powerful, dominant male’s mercy. Knowing that he was about to “breed” her, and then use the “breeding” as the jumpoff point for further training, Sadie was torn. She didn’t want her girls to keep being the way they were, spoiled, hateful, spiteful. Instead, she wanted her girls to be happy, well-adjusted, kind, and considerate young ladies, perfectly-mannered, perfectly-behaved. They needed to change, and she didn’t know how to help them make that change. Perhaps she couldn’t help at all, and it was simply too late for her to be a significant influence in her daughters’ lives for good. Perhaps all she could do…was entrust them fully into the care of Spike.

As though it were a part of the deliberate choice that would seal her daughters’ fates, Sadie almost defiantly pressed the play button again, her cheeks flushing even more deeply as she watched Spike plow his long, powerful tongue through the yielding white labia of the poodlegirl’s gushing cunny. The sounds alone were enough to make Sadie start to tremble all over! And the way Spike was taking his time, letting his hands roam, caressing his helpless “subject’s” bottom, then squeezing and mauling it by degrees, while the poor little cutie squirmed and whined and whimpered adorably in her bonds…it was too much!

Seeing the camera slide back more, to better show off Spike as much as the poodle, Sadie couldn’t help but ogle the savage pitbull’s bottom – his butt was gorgeous! She’d always had a weakness for a well-formed, masculine rump, and seeing Spike’s, with its short-docked tailstub just enhancing the flow of its firm, smooth lines, made Sadie just want to…to squeeze it, maul it, worship it like Spike was doing to…

Wait, what was he doing?

“Zoom in,” Spike instructed whoever was controlling the camera. “We’re gonna take a nice, close look at a virgin morph femme’s hymen.”

Virgin? That poodlegirl was…a virgin? Looking to the puppygirl’s face, deeply flushed with multiple clitoral orgasms, her expression one of absolute shame mingled freely with more intense pleasure than she’d obviously ever felt in her young life, Sadie knew it was true. And there was the confirmation, as the camera did indeed zoom in, nice and close, showing the puppy’s hymen quite clearly.

“There’s plenty of myths about deflowering a femme,” Spike was saying, the camera drawing back enough to show him as he lifted a smallish metal tube, about the size of a large magic marker. “How it’s got to hurt, how there’s got to be blood, and other dumb stuff like that. It’s all lies, of course. This,” he gestured with the tube, “is a maidenblade, a handy little device made for one purpose: making sure losing your virginity doesn’t hurt.”

Easily, almost casually, Spike slid the tube slightly past the morphgirl’s inner labia, so that it had to be pressed firmly up against her hymen. Sadie was expecting something explosive, something that warranted the theatricality of the moment. Instead, all she got was a soft, metallic “snikt,” and a short inhalation of breath from the poodle.

“There, all done,” Spike declared with a toothy grin, motioning the camera to zoom in again while he put the maidenblade away, showing the smooth, clean, pink flesh of a surgically deflowered vagina. “Easy, wasn’t it?”

Sadie blinked, astonished – her own first time, a drunken quickie in highschool, had been anything but pleasant, and here, this man had just deflowered a virgin right before her eyes, and there wasn’t even a drop of blood.

“That hurt, hot stuff?” Spike asked, reaching around to squeeze the poodlegirl’s breasts, easily rolling her stiff pink nipples between his strong fingers. The poodlegirl shuddered at the slow, wonderfully skilled way Spike was handling her pert mammaries, and Sadie couldn’t resist handling herself in much the same way through her blouse, all the better to fantasize having hands like those on her in the same way. All the same, the poodle shook her head, her expression now more subdued than before, the defiance having diminished markedly, though it was still there, at least in part. “Good,” Spike replied to the nod, his smile actually friendly, his stubby tail wagging a little above that picture-perfect butt of his. “Good, I’m glad.”

It was that brief interchange that really reached out to Sadie. Here he had a spoiled rotten little brat before him, bound, helpless, and completely at his mercy – she was somebody who just deserved the roughest, meanest, nastiest treatment possible to break her in and make her do what she was told! And Spike, even with all that power he had over the girl, was actually taking the time to make sure she only went through the pain he wanted her to feel – the pain of having her old self seared away, and replaced with the new, better person he wanted her to be. Despite everything he’d done and was about to do to his subject, Spike wasn’t a sadist – he was a teacher, though the lessons were of the most painful sort.

Understanding flooding her mind, Sadie couldn’t hold back her first cry of orgasm as slowly – so very slowly – fed his thick, juicy pink penis into the wriggling little poodlegirl’s tiny white cunny. He was humping her now – humping her like an animal! Those strong paws…hands…she didn’t know!...mauling the girl’s breasts, his heavy sac, its full orbs clearly outlined through the skin, swinging back and forth, slapping against the backs of her thighs as he claimed her, rutted her, made her squeal loudly again and again and again. Sadie’s own hands were all over her own body, peeling away her clothes in desperation to feel the smooth flesh beneath as Spike’s deep, masculine growls hit her right in her most sensitive places – his voice alone was enough to make her cum again! Watching his rump tense, watching how the poodlegirl’s tight, toned buns bounced with each powerful impact, Sadie wished desperately that it was her in the poodle’s place, her that was being savagely claimed and put in her place like a good, obedient little bitch, her that was being taught how to properly serve her…her master!

Spots of light flashed at the edges of Sadie’s vision as the dark-haired woman arched upward in her chair, her hips leaving the soft leather, which only reluctantly released her naked flesh from its grip. What a sight she must make, frigging herself to orgasm while watching a savage beast of a man make a teenaged poodlegirl no older than her own daughter squirt her juices all over his thighs and balls and the floor as she came and came and came some more.

Then, suddenly, Spike came to a complete stop, and yanked his raging erection out of the poodlegirl’s cunny with a wet, messy slurp. The poor little puppygirl made the most heartfelt noises of despair as she felt that wonderful cock leave her body – Sadie couldn’t blame her! – and she looked over her shoulder at Spike with eyes so pleading, only dogs have ever properly gotten the expression quite right. Spike, however, only returned the gaze with a cruel smirk of his own, before lifting a tube of water-based lubricant, and squirting a generous helping onto one hand. Letting it warm there for a little while, rubbing it onto his fingers, he reached down and started to knead the poodle’s buns, his fingers working their way inward.

“You have to earn my cum, hot stuff,” he teased, and Sadie almost cried aloud, feeling the desperation coming off the poor little puppy in waves with perfect empathy. “You have to prove that you deserve to be bred. The only way you do that, is through good behavior. I’ll give you another chance to earn my cum tomorrow. Tonight…well, I’m not completely heartless.” A finger squeezed into the girl’s tailhole, making her whine at the strange sensation, then start to wriggle as a second, and then a third finger followed in reasonable succession, their pumping motion soon getting her tailhole nice and slick, so that Sadie could see it visibly glisten. “Anal sex is important to training a morph,” Spike added in an aside to the camera, even as he stroked his cock with his other lube-slick hand, thoroughly coating it with its own glistening layer. “It’s an instinctive, primal way to establish dominance, very deep-seated in a morph’s psyche.” He grinned toothily. “I’ve heard it works on humans, too. But that’s none of my business.” Pulling his fingers free, he pressed down on the top of his shaft with one hand, the other gripping the poodlegirl’s wriggling bum, holding it steady while he slotted himself into place at the tight white rosette of her fully-prepared tushie. “Relax and let it happen, hot stuff,” he growled softly, moving both hands to squeeze the poodlegirl’s buns tightly between his powerful fingers, spreading her cheeks wide.

Leaning in close, Sadie watched, wide-eyed, as the camera shifted so that it was looking over Spike’s shoulder, aimed straight down at the poodlegirl’s upturned tushie as he slowly pressed forward, working his hips in a tight circle, drilling the bulbous pink tip of his cock into that tiny wrinkled rosette…until, with a sudden ‘pop’ (but that may have just been Sadie’s imagination filling in the appropriate sound effect), the poodle’s tailhole couldn’t hold him back any more, and Spike’s penis slid slowly, steadily inside.

The camera pulled back to a more sideways angle, and Sadie started pumping her fingers in and out of her quim again as Spike started to pick up speed himself. In a moment of daring, Sadie slid one finger down farther than the rest, and pressed it up against the clenching hole of her anus. Did she dare? Even thinking it felt so…so dirty! The feeling was all it took to make Sadie cum again, this time her fingers rasping over her G-spot, making her squirt hard, almost hitting the keyboard.

When Sadie could see properly again, she was staring straight at Spike’s face. Whoever was controlling the camera had moved it around so that it was looking at the faces of the poodlegirl beneath, and Spike above. The poodlegirl’s face was flushed, and Sadie could swear she was drooling heavily into her muzzle gag, her cheeks flushed, as was so much of her body, with near-total sexual exhaustion. Tilted down like she was, her tail held out of the way, the heart-shaped curves of her bottom was clearly visible, as was the way it bounced and deformed with each slap of Spike’s hips against her buns. Spike’s expression was one of savage intensity, his sharp teeth bared and clenched, his dark glasses tilted down, revealing those frightening red eyes of his. Some corner of Sadie’s mind registered that Spike must be an albino as she lay there on her chair, still panting and gasping for breath, her own body as flushed as that of the young poodle being “bred” before her eyes.

Suddenly, Spike’s body tensed up, muscles and veins in his neck and chest and arms visibly clenching, becoming fully visible as he started to hump his little bitch with brutal intensity, before, with a feral snarl at the camera, he came.

Sadie almost fainted as she saw the gush of Spike’s cum, so pressurized with force that some of it squirted out of the poodlegirl’s tailhole, splashing over her smooth, snowy white backside. More of it ran down her legs, and the camera moved to the rear, giving Sadie a perfect view of all that wonderful, copious cum running down the girl’s trembling legs.

He must have held himself there for many minutes, working his hips, keeping the poodlegirl from ever quite relaxing, ever starting to recover from the orgasms he was obviously bringing her. The savage brute had just sodomized the girl, sticking his cock in a place that should have just hurt, or at least felt too uncomfortable to bring any pleasure, and she was still cumming up a storm! Sadie burned with envy as well as curiosity in her post-orgasmic afterglow. She consoled herself, however, as she realized she’d soon be experiencing such pleasures vicariously several times after this experience. Three times, in fact.

Nodding slightly, Sadie finished the forms, then hit the “print” button on her computer. Moments later, three collated copies of forms for each of her girls slid smoothly out of her printer. She added her physical signature to the digital one she’d already put on the forms, just for good measure. Now, all she had to do was get her daughters to sign as well. Easier done than said: neither Savannah nor Phoebe bothered to read paperwork when they could avoid it, and Zoey would do what her mother asked, the same way she submitted to her sisters’ and their friends’ whims.

Her mind made up, Sadie slid back into her clothes, making sure she looked every inch the upwardly-mobile professional, and walked toward the rooms of her daughters, sheaves of paper in her hands. One way or another, she would have the daughters she’d always dreamed of having. If letting Spike have free rein to do whatever he felt was needed was the way to obtain that goal, then so be it.

*

“Oh no, Miss Demol,” the pretty-looking cocker spaniel girl at the desk in the little trailer at the front of the big junkyard said, making sure to make the honorific sound like “miz,” so as not to offend. “It’s not like that at all. You can withdraw your girls from their training at any time. In fact, they can take themselves out of training at any time. They’re not slaves, after all. However, once the paperwork is finished and recorded, I’m afraid that there are no refunds on my mate’s services.” The cocker spaniel looked very apologetic. “Training fees can be quite expensive, I know, so I strongly recommend that you be completely sure about what you’re doing before we make everything final. I really wouldn’t want you to lose any of your money, after all.”

The girl at the desk – perhaps appropriately actually named “Girl,” as she’d introduced herself, was a very sweet thing, pleasant and soft-spoken and even a little bit shy when Sadie had first introduced herself. Still, she’d wagged her fluffy tail happily, and her expression was honestly adorable as she explained everything on the forms to Sadie’s satisfaction, obviously overjoyed at the opportunity to help. Also, though she referred to Spike as her “mate,” she seemed equally happy at the prospect of having him perform his training services…including “breeding” services.

Girl’s most recent response, naturally, had been to Sadie’s question about her daughters’ freedom once they were enrolled in the three-month training course. She hadn’t actually said that the ones she was enrolling were her daughters yet – she hadn’t actually admitted that they were even human, and not morphs – but all the same, she was curious as to what all the legalese on the forms had really meant.

“So it’s a financial loss,” she concluded, summing up what she’d been told. “Not a case of physical restraint.”

“Physical restraint might be construed as kidnapping, Miss Demol,” Girl answered promptly and very seriously, the expression actually quite adorable on her furry face. “My Spike can be a little rough around the edges at times, but he’s not a criminal. Every cent he’s made, he’s earned completely legally. Even the breeding services are legal, and everyone knows how…touchy the law is about services related to sex.”

“Yes, touchy,” Sadie echoed, shifting uncomfortably in the chair on the other side of the desk.

“Something you’d like to share, Miss Demol?”

Morphs were really good at spotting emotions. Sadie had forgotten this little point. Either by picking up on visual cues, noticing the changes in her voice, or even by taking in her scent, morphs almost always knew what you were feeling. Caught, Sadie bit her lower lip, then pulled out the folder in her briefcase, and set it on the desk.

“Here is the complete profile for each of the three subjects I’d like Spike to train,” she said with as calm a face as she could manage.

“Mind if I take a look?”

That voice. Sadie froze in the chair, her eyes going wide, her heart coming to what had to be a complete stop. It was his voice! She couldn’t move, didn’t even dare to turn around as she heard the soft padding of naked paws on the old carpet, saw the bare, tattooed, muscular arm reaching over her shoulder brushing ever-so-lightly against her cheek, saw the strong hand seize the folder and lift it up to eyes that she knew were a deep, blood red behind dark glasses.

Holding her breath, Sadie waited, the only sound in the front office trailer the rustling of paper as Spike read through the folder containing all the vital information about Sadie’s three daughters.

“Ma’am,” said Spike as he rested one hand on the back of the hard-backed swivel chair, the other tossing the folder onto the table in front of Girl, giving the cocker spaniel an opportunity to read through it herself. “Perhaps you don’t understand what sort of place you’ve come to here.”

“Aren’t you,” Sadie had to swallow and start again, her voice catching, still not daring to turn and look into Spike’s face, “aren’t you a training service? Someone who helps correct behavioral problems?”

“For morphs, ma’am,” said Spike, gripping the back of the chair a little harder, then turning it around with that casual ease only the very physically strong can manage. “Morphs, not humans.”

“My daughters need help, sir,” Sadie tried to explain, finally looking up, desperation in her eyes. “They won’t listen to me anymore. They’ve gone in so many different directions, and now I just don’t know what to do.”

She was almost in tears now. It hadn’t taken much, not when the full weight of what her daughters were becoming pressed down upon her – what they might already have become, permanently. Spike, to Sadie’s mind, was her last shining hope in a dark wilderness. Behind his dark glasses, she could see his eyes fixed on hers, and thought she could see them soften. But only for a moment.

“Ma’am, perhaps you don’t understand something about training morphs,” Spike began, taking a step back, then reaching for his sweat pants; now that she could see him, Sadie saw that the ghostly white morph was only wearing a pair of loose red sweats, letting her play her eyes over his broad, muscular chest and firmly-cobbled tummy. “You’ve gotta understand, when I train a morph, there’s a lot of sex. Sex is one of the most powerful events in anyone’s life, from bugs to humans, and it’s even more powerful for us morphs. When used properly, it acts as a form of power, and can even channel the energy of a badly-behaving morph into a more positive direction.” Then, right before Sadie’s eyes, Spike shoved his sweats down, then let them drop to the floor before he kicked them aside, standing before her in all his naked glory.

Sadie’s eyes zeroed in on Spike’s sheath, something she’d mostly missed during the video she’d seen of him, since his penis had been fully erect when the camera had focused on that part of his body. Now, however, she could watch closely as Spike caressed that full, plump pouch of flesh, gently coaxing his pink penis out to full erection. It was fascinating, watching the sheath stretch out, and then pull back, parting at the tip to free his plump glans, before all the rest of his so-strangely humanlike penis followed, and the sheath was pressed flat against the base of his belly, almost invisible if one didn’t know where to look for it.

“Let me explain this more bluntly,” Spike continued. “If you sign your daughters up for training, ma’am, and they accept my terms, this,” he wrapped one powerful hand around his rigid shaft, hefting it like a steel bar, “is going to go inside your daughters. All three of them. In all three of their holes. You’ve seen what I do in some of the videos Girl’s uploaded for me?”

Sadie nodded.

“Those’re the tame ones,” Spike explained, his voice calm, but firm – he wanted her to understand exactly what she was getting into, so that she wouldn’t have any surprises waiting for her at the other end of the line. “Depending on how bad the attitude problems I’m facing are, the three month course can be brutal. I’m not gonna brutalize or beat your girls, and I’m not gonna cause any permanent injury or disfigurement. But once they submit to my course, and you approve it,” he fixed her with a gaze so powerful, it managed to drag Sadie’s eyes away from the mesmerizing sight of his swollen prick, “I’m going to rewrite them from the inside out.”

“I notice you haven’t said you wouldn’t take the job,” Sadie opined, daring to give the powerful, dominant male in front of her a soft, shy smile – he made her feel like a little girl again, completely powerless in the face of what was, to her mind, a primal, elemental force, like a storm or an earthquake. All the same, she did her best not to show it, even knowing that he almost certainly already knew.

Spike cocked an eyebrow, then he reached down and picked up his sweats.

“File the papers with Girl,” he said, stepping into the pants, his belly tensing even more firmly, some sort of inner muscles sucking his penis back into his sheath, at least most of the way – it was a little too swollen to fit all the way back inside. “Have your daughters here on Monday afternoon, right after their school’s finished. I’ll start work as soon as they arrive.”

Sadie’s smile was genuine now, the gorgeous, feral male’s words a soothing balm to her soul.

“Thank you,” she said, and meant it.

Spike’s response was a grunt and slight nod of his head, before he stepped out of the office, closing the door behind him.

“I guess that means you’re going to register three new training subjects,” Girl half-asked, her hands resting on the paperwork in front of her, ready to give it back if Sadie changed her mind at the last moment.

“Yes,” Sadie answered.

As Girl took the paperwork and began to finish the registration process, Sadie let her eyes close, her mouth spreading in a smile of the most genuine relief.

Spike would make everything better. Of this, she was sure.