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Broken to Slavery

Part Three of Three

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A continuation of Captured, Transformed and Forced to Breed

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by adagiodajiang

One year after his capture, Greyin whimpered and wiggled happily as the metallic mesh of the chastity cage was removed from his dig and sheath, his fur flattened where it had lain in place for so long. He was in a strange room but he was not worried, for he was there with his master, leashed to something that was vaguely shaped like his master, down on the ground like he was.

The tyrant slapped his backside, his cock pushing out finally in all its glory, lightly tapered with feline barbs (softer than those of his feral cousins) rising down the length.

“Go on!"

There was nothing he could do but obey mindless, driving instinct, letting out a ragged howl as he mounted the shape before him with reckless determination. He wasn't thinking, was only being, instinct driving him on to thrust and fuck, to use his cock as everything had denied him to for so very long. All he knew was need and his cock sank into soft cloth: a hole that had been designed for him to fit into while the butt plug under his tail vibrated madly.

The king watched, taking voyeuristic pleasure in debasing the lion-dog to such an extent, his mind gone. He thrust and thrust without any care or concern or what he was mounting, only knowing that pleasure was there, that he had to do it, that it felt good. Greyin did not need his mind to maintain the health of his body, of course, a promise made only to be broken by the king as and when he felt that it benefitted him the most.

The butt plug vibrated crazily, a larger one than ever before, as he had graduated to an even thicker plug, something on it pressing right up into his prostate, though a dog could not understand that. A dog did not need to understand that as he whimpered and growled, hammering in, his doggy mind trying to “lock" with what he was fucking as, even then, he expected a knot and not a lightly barbed shaft. His brain did not match up with what his body was trying to tell him even then and he moaned and whined, throat tight as his jaws hung open, straining to contain the overdose of ecstasy.

His tail wiggled in the air as he climaxed, the tyrant switching on, finally, his intelligence. And it was in that moment that Greyin reeled in horror, unable to stop thrusting even while he filled the cloth sex doll with his spunk. The release should have been euphoric but it became tainted with fear and despair, words streaming from his lips over and over as he cried out over and over again for some semblance of release, freedom from the nightmare that he had been thrust into.

“No, no, no!" He howled, his chest tight, stomach twisting, lurching, threatening to relieve his body of the contents of such an organ. “No, let me go! I must... You... I can't live like this! Let me go! Kill me! Lock me up...ah... Anything but this!"

Of course, his pleas fell on deaf ears: the tyrant had been abusing him, after all, for many months already, taking him to the lecture programme that was proving, surprisingly, to be more successful than even he had expected.

“No... Oh, no, I can't do that." The tyrant smiled. “But I can make you a deal, Greyin, my faithful hound."

The lion shuddered. No, no, no... No, he wasn't a dog, not really, he had to remember that, somehow. Even though it felt like the easiest and most natural thing in the world to slip back into his canine mentality, his mind begging him to go back to the drugs where everything was sweet and light and easy, no humiliation for him. But it would not change the fact that he was captured and abused.

“My proposition," the tyrant went on, “benefits you. Of course, you can be allowed to orgasm, that was never in question – but for a price. You will never come back to this way of intelligence, never know that you were once a lion ever again, not that there is much pride to be had in being a lion anyway but you understand my meaning, surely."

Greyin shook his head. No... Oh, no, was that better or worse? Even his thoughts would not come in any kind of order that he recognised, grunting softly and shaking his head.

“That..." He said thickly, still lying over the fuck-doll, his cock hard and desperately, body aching all over again. “That will be permanent?"

Was he actually agreeing to it? Thinking it through? It was madness, utter madness – he had to keep fighting! But Greyin had been fighting for so very long that he no longer knew whether he had anything at all left to fight for anymore, the world shifting around him, the lion but a passive player in it all, trapped in his bitch-suit still that rendered him something that could only walk on all fours.

The lion shuddered. Maybe he'd always been meant to be a dog, after all. Maybe that was the influence of the tyrant's drugs on his brain. Who was to know, really? It was hard to tell where the line between him being him and him being a dog blurred into nothingness.

He could cum if he allowed the king to permanently transform him, to warp and twist his mind. But was it worth it?

It was his body that made the decision for him, his back arched as he whimpered, body pushing over the mount. His cock was still sealed inside it and it barely felt as if he possessed any of the strength required to pull out again, need pumping through him, swelling and rising as if it was going to take over entirely. If the tyrant had not been in control of him, he would have absolutely said that the one in control was his body, the need searing, burning him up from the inside out.

Silent, he lay there. For once, the tyrant allowed it. Silence brought acceptance and it was only a short while later, hardly able to believe what he was doing, that he had sunk so low, that he was going to go along with it. He didn't even want to be present in his new reality anyway, not really, which was, most likely, the deciding factor in more than he was willing to admit. Horny energy coursed through him, driving him to roll and hump his hips even then, grinding into the soft shape of the anthro under him. Even then he was nothing more than a feral beast, something dumb and unknowing, driven by the needs of his body. Was there any difference to losing his mind after all that?

He nodded. He hated himself.

Soon, it would no longer matter.

“Let us begin the operation. This one may be performed by myself. I'm rather a dab hand at it now."

Greyin shuddered. Good. That it had been done before would likely mean that there was less to go wrong. Less chance of him ever again regaining his intelligence and knowing all that had become of him.

In full control of his mind, he was fixed on the ground on all fours – kind of. His forearms were stretched out before him so that he was locked down with metal bands and forced to keep them flat to the ground, his growls lost in his throat. There was no point in spending them anymore and there was still some small part of Greyin that looked forward to being allowed to cum. It was one tiny solace to him as his hind legs were braced, pushed up onto his hind paws so that his knees did not touch the smooth, painted ground, the concrete hard and unyielding under him.

Thus it was that his knees rested on metal stands that whirred with bands, sliding around behind his knee to lock him down there too, like manacles. They were just more high-tech than what he may have been used to using in a cruder fashion, for Greyin was no stranger to torture. What the king had done to him, however, was far beyond what he would have ever considered doing to his most hated enemy, hanging his head as he panted, tongue hanging out. Even then, he retained dog-like mannerisms, his butt shoved high. Greyin could not find it in himself to care.

Machinery whirred around him, clinically clean, everything grey though instead of white. There was no need to maintain an illusion of purity and cleanliness for his kind of operation, though he was not allowed to close his eyes against the horror of it. The tyrant had already manually injected him, while the machines were binding him into place, so that he would only be able to blink occasionally, forced to see and bear through everything to the very last moment.

The machinery whirred, a long arm and a needle placed to the metal strip on his back. He did not feel them injecting him but he did feel the nanomachines enter his bloodstream, working around his body like a cool chill that ran through his blood, finding their way as if they already knew the mapping of his body better than he did. It was strange, very strange, as they locked onto his nerves, his fingers tingling, everything aching strangely as Greyin's chest shuddered. His cock, of course, was still hard, betraying his true desire. Or that could have been the rampant horniness still at play. He didn't care.

Although he did not know what the nanomachines were doing, he felt what they took from him each and every time. First, his language ability was lost, his voice box changing, settling into what a feral canine could produce. He tried to talk, the tyrant watching everything, a smile on his face encouraging him on. The tyrant seemed to like him better now that he was complying and that in itself was the most terrifying thing of all.

“Woooof!"

The dog grunted through a bark, wriggling where he was. A dildo pushed into his backside and, somehow, he was ready for it. He had been silly to think, after all that he had been through, that there would be no sexual aspect to his final humiliation and debasement – at least the final one that he would ever remember, of course. It thrust and thrust, not caring for his comfort, for it was only there for a purpose as the pleasure in his body ramped up. It seared through him with a seething blast that could not be ignored, his head reeling and spinning, claws pricking out. Those were not claws that he would need anymore, not even as he was forced to cum, the nanomachines locking onto the part of his brain that fell inactive. That was the language centre, what would finally severe the cords to speech and language to him, snipping it off neatly.

“See, it's not that difficult... Try talking..."

Words. What were words? He knew part of them in his head but his tongue could not wrap around them. Greyin's eyes rolled.

“Feels... Woof... Oh, so... Rooooof!" He panted, fighting to string them together. “Good... So...good... What...arrre...youuu...do...do...doiiing... Woof..."

He dragged his words, sounding foreign even to his own years, words blurring and slurring together curiously. The tyrant smiled down at him, the lion's back arched, striving to resist.

“Woof..."

No words came. Just sounds.

“Wuff? Grrrrooofff!"

Panic clawed at him. Had he done wrong? Oh, he didn't want to not be able to speak, that had to be too much, too far – was there a way to back out now that he had begun? He did not know, could not know, not even as he whimpered and tried to shake his head, though the mechanic arm was swift in securing him with another band of metal around his midsection and, of course, securing his neck on a stand. It pressed uncomfortably on his throat as he rested there but he was kept where the machines needed him to be, as still as possible for the nanorobotics to go to work. That was all that mattered.

His body twisted as his throat worked, wanting to let something out as much as the old part of his body wanted to keep it in, throat trembling as he grunted and twisted, writhing back and forth to the extent that his bondage allowed. He didn't even realise that he was thrusting back onto the dildo as he climaxed again, further allowing the nanomachinery to do its work inside him, spilling a milky load to join the first on the floor. His tail lifted and wagged like that of a dog welcoming his master, though he wasn't even looking at the tyrant at that time.

Any struggles, of course, were useless as his voice box finally succumbed to a deep, throaty “wuff", resounding and seeming to bounce off the walls of the operating room as, finally, he lost his ability to speak in the brilliance of orgasm.

“Rooofff! Ruff! Grrr..."

Greyin flinched. It wasn't a fair trade-off.

He tried to speak again, eyes wide and wild, the tyrant standing over him, watching carefully, a smirk pulling at his lips. Yet no words came from his mouth as he panted and growled, breathing shortly and sharply through his small, lion nostrils. He had to try, had to try to speak, grunting and whining, whimpering just like a feral dog though there was no hope for him. He had already agreed and he still wasn't entirely sure whether it would have become his fate either way, the tyrant the biggest liar in the country, let alone the world. Greyin could not imagine how he had been elected in the first place but things in the world and his life had gone consistently downhill ever since, bit by bit, day by day...

“Wrrooof... Wuff?"

He blinked. Why was it so hard to think? Another mechanic arm came down, injecting him, his skin feeling funny, almost like it was rippling and pulsing. But that was just his mind playing tricks on him: it was not true, his thoughts fading, stripped away, moment by moment.

Had he... He shook his head, chuffing lowly, whiskers twitching.

“Wrruuff..."

Mm... Hm... No, that didn't make sense, didn't seem right. He couldn't think but he was not worried about it, slipping down and down and down, seeing only his master before him. Things were okay if his master was there and he whined, trying, even then, to push forward, to ease his head into his hand. He needed to be soothed, something more primal curling within him, desperate for comfort in a physical fashion now that the intelligence of words in the sanctity of his own mind had been taken abruptly from him.

“Wroooooooo!"

He howled. His cock remained hard even that orgasm, swelling within his sheath and plumping it out to such a point that even that soft fold of flesh had to pull back to expose the hard flesh. It was too much for him, losing his ability to understand everything, slipping away. It was so much easier to just languish in feeling, was it not? His cock was hard and that notion alone floated around his mind, emotions tangling, drifting and fading, his cock drooling pre-cum. Yet the nanotechnology could not zero in on his thinking processes until another orgasm was forced from him, the dildo under his tail thrusting rampantly, wildly, taking him just as it pleased.

It pounded, stretching him more and more, a little sore without anything to lubricate him back there, but it had been so long with the butt plug that his muscles had adjusted, loosening back there. He had to be amenable and useful, of course, to the king and all that wanted to use him, his body better suited to their needs every day. He almost missed the butt plug, however, with a strange sort of longing, wanting the familiar and the norm, grunting and barking softly as he rolled his hips back onto the dildo with a hiss of pleasure.

He could not tell how much time passed but he was aware of the flourish of orgasm, his cock thrusting and grinding and spurting, adding a third load to the mess under him. It was enough for him to get off, enough for the tiny machines to lock onto his thinking ability, everything before his eyes shifting. A dog did not need to think like an anthro, after all, as his cock drooled the final vestiges of his climax, throbbing and pulsing, and he shook his head, chuffing softly. His body still ached for more, throbbing and aching, muscles sore, his master there. As long as his master was there and he could follow his master's orders, of course, some vague part of him knew that everything was as it should be.

“Groooff... Grrr..."

He was not wearing his bitch-suit while he was strapped in there but the nanomachines would make sure that there was no longer even the ability to stand on his back legs, for it was his anthro behaviour, what made him different to a feral, that was the next to go. The dildo vibrated, driving deep, the machines trying a different tactic to get him there that time, trembling and pulsing as it was forced right up against his prostate. It drive him to release a stream of milky cum that was half an orgasm but not a true one, sending his broken mind howling as he tried to get more pleasure out of it. Yet “milking" was something that the nanomachinery could work with too, locking onto the behaviour centre and replacing it with what better suited the king, just what they had been designed to do.

Walking on two legs: gone. Four were better.

“Wrooof!" He barked and wagged. “Woof!"

Talking? No, just barking. Grunts, growls, whines.

Laughing? He could jump and wiggle to show his excitement in future.

Everything that made him an anthro was stripped from him, his tail lifting and wagging in as clear a symbol of canine behaviour as anyone could have liked to see. He was there for their use and their pleasure and his body would not require much of what he had taken for granted as an anthro. Greyin was struck, even then, by the urge to shake himself off to work out the kinks from his body, something that was inherently canine rather than the forte of an anthro feline by far.

Bit by bit, his cock ached, his body settling into a more comfortable position on all fours, though it was strange even then to not have his legs bent up so far that he was forced to walk on his knees. But he would be better placed to run on all fours, using his paw, his hinds needing to toughen up now that he was bare-pawed. Greyin panted happily, the vestiges of resisting drifting and fading, what was left of his mind retreating, trying to rally and come back to the forefront.

“Wrooof! Wooooof!" Where master? “Wruff!"

He was a dog. And a dog that had such behaviour, tricks and training already implanted into its brain would not need the intensive training and indoctrination that he had gone through, though it had laid the groundwork nicely for the nanomachines to do their best work. That was all part of it, why it had been such a long process to make the whole thing permanent. All he felt was loyalty to his master, as much as his memories did not match up with that. He was not so worried though.

He remembered though. He still remembered times gone by, when he'd been an assassin and even further back, images flashing before his eyes. He was barely aware of the dildo thrusting and grinding, something else coming around his balls and vibrating for another jolt of pleasure right at the base of his dick and the neck of his sack, barking and whining, begging for more even then. All Greyin knew was that the memories were slipping away, through his fingers, and he all but flung them away like dreams melting as dew in the rising morning sun.

A former assassin, he was to remember his old life no more as cum was taken from him, used to find his memories and sweep them away. They were not just locked away in a deep, dark part of his psyche but destroyed. When a change like that transformation was becoming permanent, there was no going back from it.

“Grroooff... Woof?" His muzzle quivered, eyes dropping. “Wroooof..."

He grunted, snorting and snuffling, wanting to rub his paws over his eyes, though he would no longer be able to use his fingers. No, that was gone, softened and gone, rocking his hips, need rising even at the peak of climax. His prostate was milked and milked, forcing every last drop of cum from him in the grand finale, his mind trying to understand and failing to. What were those images in his mind? Oh, but the memories were gone as soon as they appeared, the younger times when he was very small and there was someone like his master but with thick white hair around his face opening up his arms to him.

They were old times, other times. They were no longer times that would hold any importance to him for the rest of his life. He was there with his master, falling and fading, entirely submissive but broken in a way that his mind loved, wanted to lean into. How could he ever want to pull away from it when there was such feeling in him? It was a good feeling, a very good feeling, though his mind could not make the notion of it any more eloquent than that, his tongue hanging out, fluttering as he panted.

He could not tell when his orgasm faded, ending finally, only knew that he was safe there, protected – though it was he that needed to protect his master. Even then, he wanted to look around for threats, despite the bondage that restricted him, waiting impatiently and twisting for the machines to unlock him, piece by piece. There was still something odd and metallic running down the length of his spine but that was no worry to him. As long as it did not hinder or restrict his movement in any way, it was not something that he was going to concern himself with. His jaws and claws were at his master's disposal, sitting by his side all that the new dog could imagine doing.

The future? There was no future for a dog like him. He had no notion of the future, living in the moment, sitting back comfortably and proudly on his haunches when he was released, his master's hand patting his head.

“Good dog!"

“Woof!"

There was no shame, no humiliation, and his cock was no longer locked up, allowed to cum for a “season", perhaps to be used to breed and humiliate others. It would be entirely up to the tyrant, of course, just how his seed was spent. Never again for Greyin.

A dog didn't think like that.

A dog didn't think at all.

*

One year later...

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Time had passed and the rebellion had been, effectively, crushed. There was talk that there were still members hiding underground but it was dubious as to how true those rumours were. The tyrant king chose to pay little attention to them, spreading his surveillance technology, letting no one in his land live without being micromanaged, watched at all times. There was nothing that they could do that would escape the attention of those devoted to him, always there for him, always seeking to be on his good side.

That was the only way that anyone, after all, survived in the arms of his dictatorship. They just wanted to get by, to find a way to live, somehow, when things were not as they wanted them to be. They had to keep trying, had to push on, had to laugh and go to the parties and live the lives that he assigned to them. Maybe it was better that way, some reasoned with themselves. They were at peace.

The last of the rebels was hauled onto the operating table that had become a firm favourite of the tyrant king for dealing with them. The blue wolf was thickly muscled, his fur ruffled up in the wrong directions, snarling and howling, fighting every step of the way. His name was Filo but it was not a name that would carry any weight for him anymore, not in captivity, not with all that they had in mind for him going forward.

“I'll kill you!" He howled, even as he was pinned on his back, stretched out spread-eagled, metal bands shooting up and around his limbs, layering thickly down them to contain his strength. “You fucking, fucking...cretin! You've taken everyone! Everything! Everything for me! I will see you burn!"

The tyrant smiled, adjusting the collar of his shirt, stark above a black suit jacket that cost millions of credits. The wolf was no threat to him, muscles bulging, showing off every last bit of his power, nothing halting him while he was restrained, fighting to the bitter, last moment.

The tyrant's nose wrinkled. The beast stank of sweat. Best to do away with him.

“I think not. See that he falls into line."

And so the machine whirred to life, the wolf roaring and twisting, snarling and snapping, though he was no match for the machines. They clamped a band around his jaws so that he could make some sounds but not grab any of the mechanical arms with his teeth, for that would have been a side too far. The machinery, of course, was far more valuable than the wolf that was enslaved there, a dildo ramming up under his tail, though that one was coated with lube that would intensify the effect of it and, ultimately, allow the progression of his mental breaking to progress more swiftly. The king was no longer about wasting time when those that opposed him could be brought under his control more quickly than ever before.

Filo snarled, juddering from the cock in his arse, but there was no escaping it. He was forced to cum as the nanomachinery entered his bloodstream, the table under him intelligent and flexible, able to separate automatically out into sections and cut-away sections, lifting and moving him as they pleased. A metal strip was forced down against his spine and Filo howled out his fury and indignation as he was violated, the needle entering his spine, shocked into his nervous system.

A doctor stood over him, studying his reactions, how his hips rocked, falling into time with the dildo, a ring gag forced into his mouth, straining his jaws wide. That was perhaps one of the most humiliating things of all for a dragon-wolf like him, his draconic heritage showing through in the glowing, gold lines of his body, though his fur did a good job of hiding them usually. He was powerful and yet nothing while in the bondage of the tyrant, cock aching, body begging to cum even as his mind rebelled, snarling and heaving, wrenching back against the tyranny that he had fought against for so many long, tiring years.

“Hm... We thought you'd be quicker to give in."

He blinked through watery eyes, snarling through the gag, something thicker pushing down over his shaft, suckling, pulling, rippling. It was not just a cup but a device to masturbate, to make it so that he could not resist, his body a tool to be used and, as it was, broken down until it could not even be abused too. Howling, he struggled and wrenched at his bondage, though there was no way for him to get to the man with a trimmed beard and a sick little smile on his face.

“This will be the last time you will ever get to cum, for disobeying."

Filo's eyes widened as his orgasm loomed, fighting with every last scrap of his being.

“No more for you... Mangy mutt." The scientist, doctor, whoever he was, scoffed. “You don't deserve even to be treated this well. Enjoy the rest of your eternity, dog."

Yet the pressure ramped up, massaging his dick, the dildo sending shocking pulses into his prostate even as his mind reeled.

No, no... No, it couldn't be the last time! It would be it for his bloodlines, the bloodlines that were so important to his heritage, to being a dragon-wolf! He was not a mutt, not like they said and he had to get out of there, as much as he could not keep up his struggles, fighting and writhing and hardly moving at all as the bondage tightened more and more. It clasped him in place, digging into his muscles, a snarl and a snap no longer enough as the dildo under his tail throbbed, swelling, inflating even then so that he was pushed beyond all limits that he had thought he had.

He blinked, tongue pushing over the gag, a growl darkening to a whimper, hope fading. He was not a wolf to give up, a proud fighter, the last of their kind. He would have been wiped out if he had given in but they watched him fade, looking down on him, sick smiles painting their faces, the tyrant and the doctor, those that opposed him. The doctor held up a strange metal device that, if he'd known what it was, would have sent chills howling into the pit of his stomach.

“This will be your fate," the doctor laughed, shaking his head. “Chastity. Perfect for a mutt. You should have given in long ago and, maybe then, your fate would have been lighter on you."

Of course, that was not true. The tyrant would never have allowed it, as he had a very special friend and ally to give the wolf too, breaking his mind down, watching even then as part of him succumbed and broke to being a dog. It didn't take the nanobots orgasm in its entirety to begin making changes, though he enjoyed the process, watching the dog's cock throb, something that would never again be seen when the permanent chastity device was surgically attached to his body.

Filo howled and fought, fur dark with sweat, even the gold lines in his coat fading. There was too much going on, too much to fight, and he was so, so tired...so very tired. Hadn't he fought for long enough? Yet he still did, snarling and pushing on, resisting even that urge of climax as much as his body wanted him to so very desperately give in. He knew it was the end and, still, he thought of those that should have followed him, future generations of his bloodlines – all to be snuffed out as fury morphed into panic.

It was all the moment of weakness that the tyrant needed from him.

Filo howled, his strangled cry ripping through the gag.

No!

He couldn't stop his orgasm, not as he snarled and panted, struggling with all his might. The point of no return peaked and crested...and that was it.

He ejaculated.

And Filo was finished as he had known himself previously to be. There was no more Filo, no more dragon-wolf, his seed taken and stored, his mind fizzling out, crackling as all short-circuited into nothing more than a dumb mutt.

The signals to his brain carried the nanorobots true and to their rightful destination, his body forced to orgasm, thrusting and grinding – but not quite spilling a load over his stomach, for that was something that could be collected and used. A suction cup and jar was placed, by the arms of the machinery, over his cock, collecting his seed, moving with him even as the bands tightened, holding him down more firmly so that he could not damage what was around him. He was, after all, still spritely, still lively, not yet broken.

That would not last for long.

He fell, breaking, twisting, his mind warping. He remembered...nothing. Everything was gone and he panted more and more heavily, tongue fluttering with the passage of breath and air over it. Filo tried to curse but the words would not come to him, his anger softening, dissipating in the strangest of ways, almost as if it had never been there to begin with. None of it made sense but he was not even at the point where he could understand all that was to come to pass, all that was happening even in that moment alone.

The wolf's chest shuddered, rising and falling sharply, climax after climax coming. It was relentless, milking his balls dry, though those furry orbs would be a treasure indeed to the one that owned him, the machines driving on and on. They did not know when to stop when he was tired, only that that lowered his defences, attacking his voice, breaking down his words into grunts and snarls. His behaviour had to be hit harder than any other rebel before, the very last one of them, and twisted into that of a feral dog, a pet canine.

Down and down and down... The blue wolf blinked. His memories were not his own before, thrust before his eyes only so that they could be inspected, but something sucked around his cock, milking more and more of his cum from him, pulsing around the length. The tapered tip sucked into the cup as his skin was manipulated, nothing belonging to him anymore as his thoughts wavered, flickering, dropping.

Word by word, his life was taken from him, drop by drop. Each drop of cum softened another bit of his life away, his howls transforming to groans of pleasure, wanting it all, though he could not understand why he was on his back in such a way. He should have been wiggling and squirming, surely, if he was there, whining and begging. Maybe a good dog should get a treat?

The last orgasm of his life saw him released, though he clambered down from the table to walk on all fours, his hind legs kicked out behind him so that he did not need to drop down to his knees. It was an entirely natural position for him and one that allowed him to thrust his backside high, his tail wagging, showing off all that he had to offer without even thinking about it in his feral mind. The mechanical arms stretched around, pushing a thick butt plug into his tail hole, though he already had the wagging tail to suit his new doggy life. That one was not lubricated, however, and he grunted, rolling his hips back to be able to take it, something that he wanted, though there was no conscious thought in his mind.

Dogs didn't think.

Of course, there was a chastity cage to go around his cock too and back around his balls, how they ached, though there was no concern in his mind for that. A doctor stood over him, patting his head, telling him that he was a good boy, that they had a lovely owner lined up to adopt him and, even though he didn't know what that meant, he barked and wagged and begged oh so sweetly for them.

The doctor grinned, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“He's the best of the best..."

Only when he was broken down, that was.

A slim leather collar encrusted with diamonds, the property of his new owner, was slipped around his neck and locked, a lock that would never again be removed, forever marking him as property. For that was all he was as a trace of his pre-cum, leftover, drooled from the tip of his cock, trailing down lightly. He whimpered and shook himself off, fluff fluttering off in all directions. He was shedding already like a feral dog, though he had the anthro form of a wolf. Filo didn't know that though for all he was, in his mind, was a canine and that was all he had ever been too.

He was walked outside and taken to a park where he was handed over, by the king himself who had a white-furred lion-dog at his side, his cock restrained by a chastity cage too again. Neither of them wore bitch-suits to keep them down on all fours for their minds had been broken and there was no reason for them to disobey, drug alterations and the nanotechnology having done all the work that was needed. They could be used again and again to bring others under their control and the white anthro fox with a lithe, elegant, effortless frame who took the leash let a small smile break his firm facade. He wore a long, flowing red robe to present his status and leather gloves, though power lay behind his delicateness, eyes hard and keen. Wu was not the sort to show emotion but even he accepted and understood a fine gift, perhaps the finest of all from his king and friend, when he saw it.

“He is divine," he practically purred, snapping his fingers to make Filo turn his head back and forth, inspecting him meticulously from every conceivable angle. “Exactly as promised, though I would expect nothing less from your doctors."

The tyrant smiled, the light, for once, reaching his eyes. Yet it was not vulnerability.

“I trust you shall make great use of him: he is a special one."

Wu clasped the king's hand in thanks, though it was an ally-ship that resided between their paws, closing their deal. It was a deal that would take the country to a new way of being, one that benefitted the nobles, everything that the tyrant king and Wu himself too stood for.

They would never fall. But they could stroll, enjoying the beauty of their creation, all eyes on their elegance as they walked their dogs into the light area of parkland, specifically left there for their enjoyment.

Taking their leave through the busy park, all eyes were on them but everyone was used to the sight of seeing anthros walking as canines would by that time: they were only interested in the new faces there. They'd seen the lion around quite a bit after a year but the wolf was new with his blue fur and drew some attention, though all the details about him and all that he had done, the weakness of him, would come out eventually. His gold would be highlighted, fur combed and brushed, brought to a shine, all to demonstrate his worth under Wu's hold to the wider world.

Bowing deferentially, bystanders moved by them, allowing them space, the king and Wu barely noticing those around them. They didn't warrant their attention even as the dogs grunted and barked, wiggling around them.

“Wrrooof!"

“Wuff, roooof! Wruufff, grroofff..."

The anthro-dogs followed obediently, tails wagging, their goods on show, though their minds were that of dogs only. There was nothing in them that suggested that they remembered anything at all of their past lives, whining softly and stopping to sniff at interesting scents, though both of them were obedient to heel, sitting when the king and the noblewoman who now owned the last of the rebels stopped to enjoy the view at the lake.

Filo barked, lifting his muzzle at a butterfly, his heart light and his soul simple. No memories clouded his day and there was no future ahead of him to worry about either. A dog's life was simpler, so much so, and Greyin, though he had a new name given to him by his master, was there to show him.

“Go on, boys!"

“Woof, woof, woof!"

“Grrroooooffooooo!"

The leash was unclipped and they leapt and bounded together, cocks pushing out into the chastity mesh, for the butt plugs under their tails were always buzzing, always sending pulses of electric lust through them. Keeping them on edge, they played, twisting back and forth, though it was all for show, all entertainment for their master and Filo's new master, Wu, too, of course.

Failure in the rebellion had led to a new life, broken to slavery. It was a blessing to them that their minds had been wiped.

They knew nothing of their humiliation.