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The Park of Pain and Pleasure For Veronica Foxx By Draconicon

When they take the wires off and pull me out of the machine, I expect to be cringing and screaming. The machine had cooked me, burned me a hundred times while it was 'teaching' me how to be a good bitch, so I look back, thinking I'll see nothing but patches of red and blackened skin.

Instead, all I see is a stretch of the same fur I went in with, a light brown on my back with gold and white going down my arms and legs. No sign of damage...no sign of the pain I went through.

I don't like that. I don't like it at all. At least the burns would tell me that it had all been real. That they'd really hurt me. Something to fight against.

Oh, it was real. I can just think of it and know it was real. But without the evidence...

One of the officials come over to me, pulling me close and snapping a collar around my neck. I yelp, gasping for breath as the collar is tugged tight against my neck, my wind pipe closing down as he tugs the leather tight. For one second, two, three, I can't breathe in the slightest.

Then it loosens. Not much, just enough for me to breathe normally. Still better than what it was.

I hear the click of a leash, and suddenly I'm being pulled along. I can't help but follow, stumbling for a few seconds on two legs before falling to all fours. I try not to think about it, dismissing it as just being locked up for too long. I'm not getting more comfortable on all fours. I'm [/i]not.[/i]

The labcoat-wearing sadist drags me down the hall, making me run to keep up. I pass by quite a few other humans, some of them looking like they are just annoyed by being here, others looking terrified. I think the latter have a better idea of the situation, considering what I can see through open doors. Knocked out people, hanging in tubes as they are put through gene therapy, their bodies warped and twisted until they're...useful...

I gulp, swallowing as I look down, not daring to look at anyone or anything. I hate it, I hate them, I hate everything, but I know better than to be seen watching people.

My handler walks me to the fourth door from the end of the hallway, and comes to a stop. He gestures at me, and before I know it, I'm sitting down, my ass pressed flat against the cold linoleum floor. It's a shocking change from the warm air and warmer cocks that they've been shoving back there lately, and I try not to shiver.

He pets my head, and it feels good. Why does it feel good?

"Bitch. It's time for you to have a break. You have one hour in the park. Don't waste it."

I don't say anything. What is there to say? He unclips the leash from my collar, and then opens the door. Leaning forward, I'm amazed to see that it actually looks...green. Green, and vibrant. Admittedly with a glass roof, but it's the first time that I've seen anything that looks even vaguely outdoorsy in weeks.

I step through slowly, and as the door closes behind me, I slowly get up on my hind legs. I wobble, having a hard time at first, but with the help of some of the nearby trees, I'm able to keep myself upright until I can get my balance. I take a few steps further in, then a few steps more, expecting at any second to be told that I'm doing something wrong.

This is a trick, I think. There's no way that I did well enough for them to just put me here. They want...they want something.

It doesn't help that I'm sure that some of those trees contain cameras, somewhere, hidden in the branches. Or that I can just make out windows in the wall, hidden behind leaves. Probably people on the other side, watching me. Watching, waiting for something.

I try to ignore them. What I know should remain what I know, and if they don't know I know...

Well, it might not be useful, but spite's worth something.

Walking across the warm grass, I slowly realize that I'm smelling other people. No, not other people. Other bestials. Maybe a Type II further in, and a couple of Type IIIs, like me. Another couple of sniffs tell me that they're as 'heated' as I am, and doubtlessly just as embarrassed. Unless...well, there's no denying the effectiveness of the conditioning here. I'm barely holding onto my gender as it is. Even with...that.

I shudder as the mere thought of it reminds me of the spade between my legs, muscles twitching, tensing almost constantly with the need to have something inside. Now that my attention is back on it, I can feel it, the constant ache, the emptiness in my belly, the soreness that just will not go away. It squeezes and pulls at me, and I groan, having to stop for a moment to lean against a tree.

It takes everything I have to remind myself that I was, at one time, a man. A male. A guy. This isn't me. This is just what they made me into. I don't want to be a bitch. I don't want this.

Yes, you do, my body says.

"Fuck you...fuck you, you stupid bitch body..."

Even as I try and growl at myself, I can only whimper. It's a half-hearted protest, and I know it. I've seen enough people go through this same damn punishment to know where it's heading for me. If I'm lucky, if I'm the luckiest son of a bitch that's ever lived, I might get to remember what it was like being male. But I won't miss it. Not with the things that they'll be doing. Not with what all the punishments that they have in mind.

Then again...I've only seen the end results. Not the process. I have to hope. It's all I got.

Taking a few deep breaths, I pull myself away from the tree and walk deeper into the park. It doesn't take long to find some of the other bestials that are wandering around, all of them as naked as me, all of them collared. Two of them look blissed out beyond imagining, and I can just make out the swelling in their bellies. Hard, firm. Bred, and bred hard, considering how much they're holding.

The other, a bigger Great Dane Type III, shakes her head as I walk over. She sits with her legs pressed together, her hands squeezing at her knees, from the outside, too. She looks like she's trying to wedge them together, like if she pushes hard enough, her legs will collapse from the pressure and never part again.

She stinks, too. Not worse than me, just different. I sit down by her.

"How long?"

It's a simple question, and I barely know the answer. I just...shrug. She nods, and looks away.

I try to come up with something to say. Something, anything to make this fucked up situation normal, but what is there to ask? Her favorite color? What the weather was like? How she got here? Either it'll sound blitheringly stupid or remind us of everything we're trying not to think about.

Looking down, I realize that her heat stink is tainted. Something different there, something thicker. I turn, looking down -

She's dripping. Not with her juices, but with...something else. Thicker, whiter.

"...How?"

"They're testing. Don't fight it."

"When?"

She's been tapping the ground beside her, and I realize she's been counting off seconds as she answers.

"Two minutes."

I shake my head. Not good. If there's two minutes...No, I have to get out of here.

Even as I try to get to my feet, the Great Dane bitch grabs me by the tail, yanking me down. I yelp, and she growls, just loud enough to make me go still.

"Don't run. It hurts more if you run."

"But -"

"Not from them."

"From who?"

"Doesn't matter. Pain is pain. Don't fight, and you get something. You can cry about it later, but don't do it now. For God's sake, just don't cry while they're watching."

She slowly lets me go, and this time, I don't try to run. I've already wasted almost a minute, and there'd be no getting away now. All I can do is wait, and hope that it isn't too bad. Maybe just a few people coming in to use the bitches, like at the punishment post.

A minute passes, and I hear a warning siren go off. I look up, and see a metal door sliding out of the way. A clang, and then the sound of over a dozen dogs, barking and howling, baying and yelping as they come. The instinct to run hits me hard, but I hold myself still. Barely. Just. Barely.

They come running around the corner, purebreeds and mutts alike, and they slam into me and the Dane hard enough to knock us over. I hit the ground, face knocked into the grass, and immediately one of them is trying to mount me. Another grabs me by the neck, growling into my throat, while others are snapping and barking among one another, waiting for their turn.

I go stock-still as I feel the dog cock pounding around my backside, working between my legs, against my thighs, trying to find its way into my spade. I'm already dripping, just thinking about it, my body betraying me. It wants it, even though I don't.

I want to cry. I want to, so badly, but instead, I reach back, slowly. The teeth grind through the fur around my neck, and I know if I'd still been human, they would be leaving me bloody. As it is, I know I'll be bruised. Still, I reach back, grabbing hold of the dog's cock, and shifting the feral that little inch it needs to -

It's like being punched in the gut, and I cough and sputter and gasp as the fucker slams in up to the hilt on the first go. I can hardly breathe as he ruts me, the sensation a hundred times more intense than the simulation. I stare straight ahead, my jaw falling open, and my tongue falling out. I can't think. I can barely breathe. I can hold onto one thought, and I choose it without question.

Don't cry. Whatever I do, I won't cry.

The End