FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The doe, Emie, softly nestled into the cushioned chair in her living room, awash in warm but slightly dimmed light, emanating mostly from a hearth-fire in front of her. Dressed in a blue hoodie and wearing a pair of long blue-black striped stockings running up to her thigh, which in turn were covered by a simple set of canvas pants to fight off the winter's chill. Just her hoofed feet poking out, one placed under the other leg in her curled up pose. A book in one hand and a steaming mug in the other as she set about to relax and unwind on her first free day in over a fortnight.

A car slowly pulled to a stop in the alleyway, headlights off, giving little sound save for the soft thrum of the electric engine, which was quickly silenced as it was stopped. Simon noted the location on the GPS panel and nodded to himself, turning to look over the back of the nondescript home. This was the one, he had finally chosen. A month's work to find subjects, acquire medical records and genetic profiles, and pare it down to the best match. This was the one, the lovely Emie. Jones looked over from his position in the passenger seat. "Need help with this one, Doc?"

Simon just shook his head, not even looking at the man. Jones was, to his credit, a competent enough thug, but he had little to no finesse. Plus, this one was special. It'd been a long time since a cervine was needed. Thus, being a buck, himself, Simon couldn't help a little bit of excitement from the start. "No, Jonesy. I'd like to take this one, myself." Jones merely nodded. Turning a bit, Simon grabbed a shoulder bag and strapped it on, opening the door and stepping out, his grand 10-point antlers gleaming in the moonlight of the clear evening, his breath clouding just slightly as he took a deep sigh to steel himself. Moving quickly, he approached the back of the house and knelt, slipping a pair of rubber covers over his hooves to dampen sound. He then pulled a mechanism from the shoulder bag and moved up to the door. A standard ArLock keypad and security panel greeted him, waiting to send a signal that would put the police on the way within moments. Simon attached the small device in his hands and pressed a button, scrambling the signals and sending the lock haywire, which forced a reboot, but, given the tampering of the device, resulted in the thing unlocking instead of doubling down. The deadbolt clicked open a bit louder than he would've liked, but at least he had access. Ten minutes is all it would take before the system would re-arm and immediately signal an intrusion, so he had to work fast. Quickly and quietly, he opened the latch and stole inside.

Emie's ear twitched and she placed one hard-tipped finger on the page as she heard what she swore was a clunk of some kind from the back. Twisting her head, the fire spat and cracked in a wash of embers as one of the logs gave way, very similar in sound, she shrugged, setting the mug down next to her phone on a nearby table, she searched for her place in the book once more, brushing away a strand of hair that had loosely fallen over her forehead. Her eyes reading the words, but this particular book didn't quite seem to be holding her attention tonight.

From behind in the doorway to the darkened kitchen, Simon gazed upon her lovely, chestnut coloured hair, a part of him wanting to run his hoof-tipped fingers through it and inhale its scent. Imagining she probably used some kind of sweet-smelling shampoo or perfume. He shuddered a bit, but shook it off. No time for fantasies now, Simon, there's work to be done. He turned lightly and retreated to the kitchen, returning to the back door and opening it once more, allowing the cold night air to blow through in a pointed breeze as he left it half-open, moving off to take up a place of waiting in another nearby hallway, where he would be well positioned behind her when she went to close it.

It took her a short moment to realise the oddly cool and cold qualities the fire-warmed air had picked up, she leaned back, craning her head toward the darkened kitchen. Unfolding her legs she put the book down on the table, shut this time, though not before it was marked with a scrap of paper. Collecting her phone as she moved across the thick rug in near silence, her bare hooves only making some sound on the harder wood round the room's edges. She stopped just shy of the kitchen's entrance to the hallway, eyes toward the windows at first as she leaned against the door-frame. But then widening at the sight of the door hanging ajar. She peered outside, looking for signs of anything in the moonlight, a hoof-hand reaching to the patio light-switch and suddenly flicking it on. She listened for any reaction, and then crept as quietly as she could to it, making to shove it shut.

The instant she came into view, his pulse quickened, adrenaline surging within him out of practised experience. He quickly surveyed her. Able to tell she was nervous, suspicious. Phone in hand. Eyes on the door and beyond. Her attention would be momentarily in front of her, but not for long. Make sure no one is outside, then make sure no one is inside, only logical. For a single second, he grinned to himself, thinking about her coming struggles, but quickly focused again. He pulled a looped leather belt from the shoulder bag and readied it in his hands, then skirted forward as she flicked on the outside light and approached the door. He kept his steps steady, walking quickly instead of running to keep his steps like whispers as he came up behind her. With a quick flick, he threw the opening of the belt around in front of her and over her muzzle, cinching it shut and thereby restricting her voice. The most important detail. The doe sensed him far too late, eyes darting behind as the belt clapped over her muzzle, muffling the panicked squeak, which quickly became a pained squeal as she managed to pull her lips back a bit. He grabbed her wrist and twisted, attempting to make her drop the phone as his other arm quickly wrapped around her, lifting her bodily and turning to slam her down roughly against a nearby counter top, pressing into her from behind with his greater weight to keep her pinned as the device clattered to the ground free from her grasp.

Emie tried to kick behind her, aiming for the shin. And as she was dragged round her free arm managed to grab a heavy wooden chopping-board from it's hanger, swinging it toward what she hoped was her assailant's head. The heavy board made contact with a thick crack, causing Simon to cry out in pain and rear back, falling backward against the kitchen table and momentarily losing his grip on her.

Emie staggered forward as his weight was pulled off her, her own wrist shooting pain from the blow. "Who th' h'll ar y'?!" She growled out around the strap, one of her hands reaching to try and just yank it off as she skirted back to the door toward the hallway. Her eyes falling on a knife but she decides against snatching it up. Some small part of her mind telling her that despite the situation, drawing weapons would only escalate things further.

Simon growled as he tried to focus, pain shooting through his head and blurring his vision, but he didn't let it slow him. Time was too precious, and the risks too great. Pitching forward in a crouched run-up, he came in low, pointed antlers protecting him from any further blows, and charged her. She saw him coming and snatched toward the inner door of the kitchen, trying to slam it into his approach, but the buck was moving so fast, the door bounced lightly before getting shoved back. He aimed the precarious opening between jagged points directly around her, and used his well-muscled form to grab and heave her upward, carrying the forward momentum to quickly slam her down against the floor on her back, squarely knocking the wind out of her. He then moved quickly to grab her legs, jamming her hooves together and bending her legs upward, forcing her knees to her chest and pulling her rump up into the air. He quickly seated himself upon her, straddling her thighs and pressing his own knees down upon her arms, keeping her legs pulled together against one of his shoulders. If not for the fact that they were both clothed, the pose was deliciously sexual. Despite the small trickle of blood down his forehead, Simon's mind leapt to how wonderful it would be if this was more intimate. He couldn't help but picture her naked beneath him just like this, cheeks flushed, pert breasts heaving, mewling, panting her joy and pleasure, calling his name as he . . . no! Had to focus. The work was more important. He tried to ignore the hardening in his pants as he hurriedly fished a roll of QwikSeal tape from his bag and began to wind it around her legs, starting from the hooves and working downward.

She'd been stunned though she managed a few pathetic squirms. Senses returning she tried to fight back with her pinned and caught limbs. "Ge'off me! Leggo, you creep!" She grumbled sees the roll get pulled out and growls again. "W-wha's that, stop it! Oh god, what the hell?!" The last utterance more shocked as she feels his growing tent press the loose material of her pant legs. The garment falling down as the socked shins are swaddled up. Her mind reeling, what was this freak's purpose? Just a robber? . . . Right?! Her eyes dart toward the back door, wondering why it hadn't gone off, or if it had, what this fool thought to achieve before help arrived. A light glowing on the floor suddenly as her phone began to ring, the timing!

Ignoring the phone, Simon kept working, trying to press through the pain in his head and the nagging lusty images plaguing him. He finished wrapping her legs and moved back quickly, taking her thin shins in his hands and lifting straight up, pulling her squirming legs and hips upward. Forcibly flipping her over, then letting her suspended body drop roughly to the floor, he leapt to seat himself on her shapely rump--dammit, stop thinking of that--keeping her pinned still.

Emie was winded once again by the impact, her chest hitting the floor in a bruising thud, wincing and crying out, but in the moment before he landed on her she pushed herself forward, arm desperately reaching for the phone, finger managing to knock it's edge and serve to just push it further away. A despairing sob as his heavier hand closes on her scrabbling arms and, pulled them behind her. Simon, using his legs to keep her elbows pressed to her sides, moved to grab the tape again, ripping it open and swiftly binding her wrists.

Her fear plain in her voice now, scared witless, afraid of whatever this burglar might take other than her possessions. "W-what are you doing? What do you want? Please?!" She tried to throw him off, the hood of her top ending up flapping lightly over the back of her head.

As he finished with her wrists, he leaned over, taking her throat in his hand and nuzzling lightly into the back of her neck, his wicked points visible all around her vision. He looked at the ringing phone, as he knew she was, and gently stroked her neck, feeling her fear and desperation. Unconsciously, he ground himself into her rear once, the feeling of ardour and passion at overtaking her so getting his blood boiling. An occupational hazard as his targets always affected him so. "Shh, shh. It's alright." He reached up and tightened the belt again, making sure it would not slip off. "I'm not going to hurt you. We have so much to do, my beautiful Emie."

Growing a bit stiller as she sees his antlers, and whimpers softly. "To do?! How do you know my name?! P-please, I don't have much, but just take what you want, I-I promise I won't tell the police if you just let me go?" She said, wet tracks down her cheeks. Leaning up again, he fished a hypo from his bag, pressing it against the soft curve of her rump and pressing inward, the automatic-injection systems pressing the sedating payload beneath her clothes and skin with only a hint of pain. He then lifted himself off her.

She squeaked at the injection. A surge of panic, but then relieved confusion as he stands. Was he listening to her? Did that mean she should just lie there and wait? She swallowed, blinking slowly. And trying to worm her way away from him, keeping clear of the ringing device lest it provoke him further. He watched her wriggle, lifting his wrist to tap at a comm-band. "Jones. I need you now. Bring your gloves." Moving over to her, he flipped her over again and lifted her in his arms, cradling beneath her knees and restrained arms. He then simply stood and let her struggles slow as the tranq too hold, letting her see him fully in the light for the first time. In spite of the wound on his head, he was rather handsome for a buck, well-chiselled, strong, a mixture of soft gentility mixing with a strange, subtle, intellectual mania in his eyes. His clothes were well-groomed, professional, and quite wealthy. He gently cooed at her, shushing her protests and struggles as he waited for the drug to take hold of her and calm her down. She squirmed for all she was worth in his arms, trying to twist her wrists free, the hood falling back and fully revealing her own, now tear-stained, face once more. Her efforts also catching the body of her hoodie and the shirt underneath, baring her soft-brown, belly, a hint of spotted markings at her side. Her eyes begin to slowly grow heavier and droop further, but the dimming repetition of the word please, and the occasional grunt of effort are the only noises she makes, her slowed brain at least reaching the conclusion this wasn't a robbery, and causing a flutter of terror. The phone finally falling silent just as she does too, limp and helpless.

A brief moment later, and a wolf enters, clad in utilitarian black. He looks to Emie with a sneer of satisfaction, then back to Simon, nodding and awaiting order. Emie twisted her head slightly at the newcomer, a desperate and uncomprehending plea as she forces her blurring bleary eyes open. Simon turned casually and began to stride out of the room. "Sterilize the board she hit me with, and put it back in its place on the hook. Place the phone somewhere casual, then make sure the fire will die down safely. You have three minutes to return to the car." Continuing on without waiting for response, as the doe realised this was no chance saviour either. Simon looked down at the beautiful doe in his arms, smiling at her. "Oh, Emie, we are going to have an interesting time. Don't you worry." Pausing to turn the patio light off again, he strode from the house, making quickly for the car. As they pass the door she barely whispers out a "Please. . . don't. . . " The jogging motions as he hastened across her backyard the last thing she felt before she slipped away, amidst a haze of terror filled thoughts, before blackness claimed her.

---

Jones pushed the doors aside as Simon carted the still-bound Emie down the hall in his arms. It had been a short drive to the facility, with no problems along the way. If the alarm had gone off in their wake, there had been no complications. Aside from the damn head-wound, it had been a very clean acquisition. He'd forgive her that. She was so strong and healthy, it was only natural she'd have fight in her. Many doors followed, many hallways, many passing ceiling lights, rhythmic like a heartbeat, and a few elevators to top it off. Deeply down into the depths, as he always said. Not one person or guard stopped them or even batted an eye, other than to look Emie over in curiosity. This was procedure, no matter how untoward it looked. At long last, they reached the primary lab, and he laid Emie down on a table on her side, facing a wall. He then called to Jones, "Help me get ready, I have to tend this little cut."

Darkness covered her at first, or so she thought, her head still swimming, it felt cold still, but not the cold of the breezy night air. She realized soon that the darkness were just her eyelids, unusually leaden, and she opened them the barest crack, even that taking some conscious effort. The laboratory wall greeted her confusion, and fear spiked again at the strange new surroundings, she tried to move or make some sound, but it was like she was asleep, just a bit of feeling against her fur to show she wasn't paralysed. She tried to shake her body, making only the tiniest of movements, and a tiny flick of her lips.

Only sounds and shadows echoed back, motions, murmurs, the soft sweep of shadows across the wall, as several minutes passed. Finally, Simon called out behind her, "She'll be coming to, soon. We need to prepare her. Come help me." Jones only nodded, as he usually did, which wasn't surprising. He never objected to this part. Which also wasn't surprising. They picked Emie up together, and moved her to a central table. The tape around her wrists was cut away and she was turned onto her back, the bright, shiny lab coming into view. There were several pieces of strange equipment, monitors of all kinds displaying odd numbers and swirling symbols, the only one that might be recognizable to those not in the know was a large DNA overlay on the central bank. Also on view were numerous chemistry tables, centrifuges, many vials and beakers of various fluids. Simon removed the belt from around Emie's muzzle, and then started on the tape binding her legs, quickly peeling it away, painless, not even tugging a hair loose.

Even as she was tended to, Emie could not have done more than twitch, but as they approached she held perfectly still and limp, trying to seem unconscious, still. Keeping her eyes open the tiniest fraction, vision blurred by her lashes, but still seeing the vaguely moving shapes, and risking a peek at the equipment. Was she in a hospital? It would mean she'd been found or saved. . . but then left bound? And it was definitely the same voice she'd heard before. She waited for a moment, even going so far at to let her jaw hang open a bit. She didn't think she'd be able to run, but maybe she could eavesdrop on things they wouldn't have said if they thought the doe was lucid.

Simon suddenly came into view, pulling one of her eyelids back. He was now clad in obvious lab wear, the coat of a scientist and a cleanly-pressed shirt and tie. A small, tight set of sutures graced his brow beneath his antlers. He shined a small light into her eye, noting the dilation, and smiled a bit to himself. She was more awake than she let on. Such a clever doe. She winced at the bright light, and sobbed, game given away so soon. Her digits tensed as he moved his arms behind her head and lifted her to a sitting position, held against him. Jones was on hand, should she struggle, but letting him do what he liked, content simply to watch. Simon pushed her forward and placed his hands beneath her hoodie, firmly pushing it up and over her head, then down her arms and off, dragging the long-sleeved shirt she was wearing with it, even as her fingers tried to cling to the garments. "N-nu.. leggoh.." She dazedly slurred, as her slender torso was undressed save for the b-cup bra, padded to look bigger. Trying to feebly shrug him off but feeling her strength growing too gradually.

Wasting no time as he felt her movements, Simon quickly unhooked her bra and pulled it away from her, Jones then moved to pull her legs downward as she was pressed to the table again, in full view of them both. "Bind her, quickly," Simon ordered, and Jones nodded, of course. They traded places then, Jones moving up to to the top of the table to take Emie's wrists, pulling them above her to forcibly put them into binders set into the table, latching them closed on each one even as she pulled. He wasn't subtle with his hungry ogling, eyes never leaving her bared chest and shaking breasts. Simon, for his part, was also drawn to look upon her assets, and quite pleasing they were. Wonderfully-shaped, perky nipples peaking out from the effects of the drug and the open air, and despite her obvious garment-padding, shaped just right. A wonderful handful to . . . snap out of it, man! Simon shook his head, grunting at himself, and undid the catch in Emie's pants. He then pulled intently at her pants and what lay beneath them, dragging the rest of her clothing down and away from her legs, which he then pulled to bind in similar fashion, spread apart just slightly . . . just slightly enough for Simon's wandering eyes to travel upward to her centre. Such beauty.

The cervine gasped, as she was fully disrobed, shaking her head beseechingly, or trying to though only a quiver got through. Pathetically tugging in Jones' grasp and then the table bindings, her tongue working better for her as she snaps at them "Lemme go you sick perverts. What are you gonna do? H-hey! Stop!" She had cried as her waist was stripped in one motion. "M-my clothes, no p-please." Wilting under the lewd leer her beseeching glance found. Her last leg kicking at him after he clamps the first down. And twisting on the table. Her chest rapidly rising and falling in her frightened breaths. This creepy deer and his quiet friend.. they looked the part, but why? What? This obviously wasn't part of whatever job they were seemingly disguised as.

They simply looked down upon her for a moment, then Jones spoke up, "You, uh . . . need any more . . . help with this one, Doc?" The request and intent were obvious, but Simon shook his head. "No, Jonesy. This one is . . . more personal." Jones looked between his buck of a boss and the restrained doe, and nodded, a slight leer on his face. "I getcha, Doc, I getcha. Guess if, y'know, she winds up as Type B . . ." Type B? What did that mean, she wondered in uncomprehending shock.

Simon chuckled and waved his hand. "Of course, Jonesy, of course. You will be informed. Now let me work. You are dismissed." Jones nodded again, and with one final ogle of the prostrate Emie, wandered out, closing the door behind him.

"Please, if I've done anything to you in the past I. . . I'm sorry, I don't recognise you, b-but you knew my name." Her mind raced, a friend of some jilted lover maybe? Still just the confused swirl. She swallowed and thrashed a bit more but there was no way she'd break loose at full strength, let alone as she was. With nothing left to do, she just tilted back her head and started to sob.

"Oh, sh-sh-shh," Simon cooed again, moving to softly stroke one of her restrained arms, trying to sound comforting but coming across quite creepy, given the situation. "This isn't anything about revenge or punishment. This is a wonder. A miracle of science. And you're going to help me, and those that employ me." He moved around to behind the table and clicked a catch, tilting the table up until she was almost upright, and could more easily look upon the surroundings. He continued to speak as he moved. "My name is Doctor Simon Winters. I have PhDs in chemistry, biology, and genetics, and more than a personal interest in zoology and animal sociology." He moved over to one of the computer panels, typing in a sequence that read "prepare infusion: 123.3", after which some of the nearby equipment jerked to life, robot arms moving vials, mixing chemicals, and sending centrifuges whirring. "I would tell you the name of the company I work for, but it little matters. What's important is that my employers have hit upon a great benefit for the world." He moved a wheeled chair over as he let the machines work, seating himself near to her and gazing up at her, trying to be gentlemanly. Slight flicks of his eyes were noticeable, though, as was a darker hunger brewing beneath the clean surface.

Emie shivered, lying there limply but she managed to mask her fear a bit better. "I don't want to help." She said between sobs, and wasn't just saying it for the sake of it. She didn't want to help, she didn't understand what this Doctor was on about, but everything about him set her on edge. "Y-you're a deer too. What do you want me to do that you c-can't do yourself?" She caught herself and shook her head, quickly adding. "No, I don't care. Just back away, I didn't sign up for whatever you're planning y-you creep." She just wanted to go home and hide, or better wake up and have this all fade, or anything else. Not be stretched out, naked, too scared to even be embarrassed in front of some deranged deviant of a man.

He clucked, adopting an outwardly sympathetic tone, though there was that glance, that hunger again. Gods, she was so beautiful, trussed-up like this. Such delightful spots, a white belly that he just wanted to nuzzle, breasts he could lose himself between, soft thighs that lead to-. . . Simon closed his eyes, trying to look thoughtful. "I am quite too valuable to the project, I'm afraid. But let me explain further. It's a remedy for the Awakening!" The Awakening, he referred to was a strange event, still considered supernatural, though men toiled to unmask the truth. It had swept the world, without discernible pattern, causing many animals to suddenly change, becoming anthropomorphic where before they had been normal. Every animal species had been rocked, depleted to horrifically low levels in the wake of it. Simon continued. "There are those who fear the entire ecological sphere could be at stake, and numerous projects have come about because of it. One of them, mine, has resulted in such a glorious two-for-one deal. We can help the animal numbers of the world, while also reducing overpopulation! Which endangers everyone, as much as it also endangers the animals. It's still in clinical tests, of course, but who knows! Maybe someday, it will be widely-used! I can only imagine the accolades I will earn!"

A dread pit in her stomach forming, and prompting her to pull on the bindings. "S-s-stop staring at me! Listen, that has nothing to do with me. It's sad that a lot of animals are disappearing, but i-if you're saying what I think.. then that's wrong! That's evil! Just let me out of here, I don't want to be your test." She tugged, squeezing her eyes shut and taking a deep breath. "No, no, please, someone help!" She shouted, "Anybody!"

Simon scowled slightly at the commotion, and his eyes were again drawn to her breasts as her struggles set them jiggling. This time his eyes linger. So vulnerable, so sweet . . . so open . . . what would the harm be? Soon, she would either not care, or . . . either way, it would be such a shame to lose this form. It drove him wild, seeing her like this. Maybe . . . maybe he would just -. . . for a long moment, it looked like his professionalism struggled to maintain control, but finally he broke, and rose from his chair quickly, moving to her. The hunger was all over his face now, dark and wanting, shading everything about his features. With a cold brutality, he placed a hand to one of her breasts, rubbing in slow circles, and leaned down to the other, his long, pink tongue lapping out from the black-and-white of his muzzle, teasing at her nipple. His other hand travelled to her crotch, planting itself firmly between her legs and rubbing up into her cleft.

"No! Stop! I knew you were lying, I knew you weren't a doctor! Keep your hands off me!" She kept shouting, adding more protests with stronger urgency as he began so simply violating her. More shouts for help too, making quite a racket but even if this was as sick a place as she was coming to fear, she held the hope that maybe one of this Simon's companions might save her from this. As his torment started in earnest, the hand rubbing between her folds and moistening them up, she tried to buck around in desperation, just further adding to the pressure. The colour rising in a crimson blush at the sensitive and sensual feeling, his methods scarily akin to those she too employed when she felt such needs. But not like this. At the mercy of someone else, or indeed when someone else was doing it to her, she found it strangely more intense, a soft mumbling moan which grows into another shouted no and a scream for help.

Her protests only served to encourage him, it seemed. His fingers played madly at her sex, tracing and caressing with smooth tips, enjoying every twitch and jerk. His lips lowered to her nipple, suckling at it with a deep hum to further stimulate, the hand at her other breast squeezing and kneading. As it seemed there may be no end to the torment in sight, a loud chime erupted from the computer across the room, and a final series of mechanisms began to click into place, including a semi-large tube, which began to fill with an eerily-glowing green fluid. The sound made Simon froze, and his eyes darted to the side. With effort, he stopped himself, pulling away and leaving the poor girl. Her eyes bulge at the sudden stop, and she lay there panting, a small part of her wanting it to keep going, but a far larger part thankful that it stopped. His breath obviously ragged, a visible bulge in his pants, he tried to compose himself, looking at the moisture that coated his fingers. "Ah, seems it's time. Such a pity."

"T-time?" She asked in a mewling sound. Trying to put the stimulation out of her mid, the lab still with enough current in the air to keep reminding her of the wetness between her legs. But her mind snaps back to what he suggested. "N-no please. Don't hurt me. Don't do this!" She stared on in paralysed fear at him, fortunately missing his fresh bulge to spare her further revulsion. Eyes instead transfixed by the mechanical motions, and that tube, tugging on the table. "I. . . I'll even sleep with you if that's what you want! Just don't c-change me."

As the tube fills full with the intimidating liquid, Simon pulls a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe off his fingers, further composing himself. "No, lovely Emie, I'm afraid not. What I earn from this is far greater. But don't worry. You will be well cared for. We already have extensive facilities set up to give our experiments wonderful living conditions, and a chance for the people to enjoy them." He clears his throat a bit at some hidden irony he notes in his words, moving toward the tube, and pulling a hypo-gun from another table. "There's only a . . . slight risk of side-effects now. One-in-five. And even if that occurs, you will still be well cared for, I assure you." He takes the tube from its mooring with a pressurized hiss, and deposits it in a pocket along the with the hypo-gun. He moves back to the table, flipping it back horizontal and locking it place again, then unlocking its wheels to begin moving her out of the room, pushing the table through the wide, swinging doors and into the stark, empty hallway.

She shakes her head, pleading with him, even making the offer to pay him everything she's saved and work off even more money if that wasn't enough. "I don't know what you mean, but I don't want to live here and be cared for, I want my life to stay the same. A-and one in five is a large chance, for any side effect!" She flinches as he nears her and gasps as the table-bed is moved around, Craning her neck at him and her surroundings through the door. "And why. . . Why do you know my name?"

He chuckles a bit as he wheels her down the hallway. "Because I picked you, Emie. We have extensive lists of the populace, thanks to contracts with certain providers." There is nothing but silence down each hallway, save for the gentle rolling of the table itself, his steady words, and her panicked ones. No people, no guards, no assistants. At this time of night, practically empty. "As for the side-effects . . . well, let's just say you'll only have to worry about that if it happens. Because that's the only eventuality in which you'll be able to worry about it."

She pulls a face of dismayed sorrow at the lack of others around, and wonders if he's even telling her any truth's at all. Maybe this is an abandoned lab, and he's just going to use her and kill her. She shudders at the thought, looking around. But despite her fears, the place is too well kept to be abandoned. Though that revelation does little for her fears of this man and his 'experiments'. "This is wrong and evil. Y-you can't just steal people from their homes in the middle of the night and. . . you can't!"

"For the amount of money I receive, I certainly can. Besides, what are a few lives, compared to the fullness of science, and the preservation of the world?" He pushes her through another set of doors into a brightly-lit, metal-walled room. It smells overwhelmingly of cleanliness and chemical sterilizations, but underneath is something faint. An odd scent hard to place, but definitely biological. Simon wheels the table to a point in the room and tips it up again, letting her see the only thing worth seeing in it. A large, mechanical support-structure holding a series of braces, loops, and what is obviously a harness within its centre. The doors they came through suddenly lock with a loud click, and there is no other obvious way out.

She hangs her head in depressed defeat, her words completely useless. . . "B-but you said yourself that-. . . that I have a nice b-body." Her stomach turns to parrot the sentiment of his words, but it's all she has left in her mind. Already knowing that it wouldn't work, her head swims in thought, of her friends, family, wishing that they'd choose tonight to spontaneously look for her, and somehow save her before it's too late. But she knew that wasn't likely, and feared that worse still, they'd never know. Especially after Jones had rearranged the house perfectly. It'd be like she just disappeared. Nursing the forlorn thoughts, her head twisted up to look at the dangling assortment in despondent silence. Shivering not just in fear, but bared as she is the chilled air was enough to make her hair stand on end.

"Oh, but you do. But very soon, you'll have a different one." Simon moves toward the mechanical contraption and pulls something from it. A collar, suspended by a long chain that he unwinds from a winch deep within the mechanism. He them approaches her, opening a latch on the collar and strapping it around her neck, keeping with her to overwhelm her attempts to struggle. The collar snaps closed with an audible click of an electronic lock. "No! Y-you keep away!" She shouts, as his hands snap it on, whimpering at the clicking and feeling a small thrum too as it shuts firmly, furrowing her neck-fur. She tries to work her neck and scrape it off in any way. Finally, quite unperturbed, he pulls both the tube and the hypo-gun from his pocket, slotting one into the other. "This is mixed with both pain-killers, and a minor dose of mood-stabilizer. It should keep this from killing you out of fear, but you may still feel some anxiety. I know it doesn't help at this point, but please try not to panic. It makes the process so much worse." Without another word, he forcefully turns her head, and pushes the thing to her neck, depressing the trigger and injecting the fluid into her system over a long, drawn-out moment. The deer girl struggled and twisted. Of course she'd probably love to stop panicking but the words by themselves will do nothing for her.

Once the injection completed, Simon quickly pocketed the hypo-gun again, and moved toward the harness system. He pulled out a remote unit, clicking it on and returning to her table. "I will be on-hand to determine your state after the procedure. You will begin to feel the effects soon." He flipped a latch on the back of the table, and the binders come free without warning, dumping her forth. At the same time, he presses a button on the remote, and the chain attached to the collar begins to retract, pulling her closer to the machine, but not yet all the way to it.

As she finds herself dropped from the table she fights as best she can, digging her hooves into the floor, and pulling with one hand while the other grabs at the collar, trying to pull it off or force the lock open, thrashing around as she gets pulled in despite her resistance. Keeping her eyes on him for opportunity to kick out once more. Trying desperately to claim even an inch of freedom at this point. Even if she didn't already hate this experience, the harness and metals all would have scared her away anyway.

Simon merely stands and watches, his demeanour now entirely clinical, one hand behind his back while the other holds forth the remote. As the pull stops halfway toward the machine, there is a brief moment's silence, which was filled only by her groaning struggles. Then, only slightly at first, growing in intensity, would come a tingling throughout her body, as if her muscles had fallen asleep. A few minor pains, akin to growing pains, spread throughout her limbs. A strange pressure in her own hide. An itching all over. The first obvious change would come at her breasts, as they began to shrink, almost like slowly-deflating balloons, the nipples themselves withdrawing into the flesh and disappearing. Then her fingers, becoming stiff and hard to bend, some internal insistence forcing them together as the tips began to grow downward, merging together. She widened her eyes at that feeling before seeing the effect on her breasts in horrified confusion, feeling like a heavy weight was being pushed through her and yet somehow disappearing before getting too far in. And then horrified as her hands begin to swap, changing to be like her feet. Simon, for his part, seemed nonplussed by this. It was, after all, something he'd seen dozens of times before.

Emie grunted in frustrated impotence as the chain stopped and as the changes begin, twitching in reaction, both whining and groaning. "Y-you sick bastard!" She squeals at him, fuelled by pain, and even slightly enraged that the 'painkillers' seem to have done nothing for them, though truthfully she'd be in agony without, as every part of her starts to hurt, twinge, feel strange, or outright itch, her hands rubbing at the worse spots.

This time, he does not respond. If all went well, she wouldn't really remember any of this shortly. If she turned out to be one of the others, Type B, well, no sense dwelling on it unless it happened. A strange queasiness and dizziness washed over Emie, a feeling like her insides were moving, rearranging. Her mind suddenly awash in strange feelings, urges, instincts, odd sensory effects. Her thighs and arms could be seen to thin out, the flesh adjusting itself as her new front hooves finished their transformation. Her shins lengthened even as her thighs grew shorter. The fur around her rear then fluffed-out as her tail lengthened slightly. Her muzzle, her entire head, and even her torso, began to grow smaller, thinner, more bestial. Her new nipples became apparent down upon her lower stomach, the perfect place for nursing fawns. Her shoulders snapped inward, the entire structure of her muscles and skeleton bending, twisting, repositioning.

The deer-girl. . . or was it a girl-deer now? Gasped out again in confused pain through the many changes, the terror she was told not to feel shaking her in its vicious jaws as her legs slimmed to the spindly size, her body stretching or contracting all over and the centre of gravity shifts causing her to topple forward in an awkward heap, the collar-chain just about the only thing that keeps her from face planting the floor as she scrabbles uselessly, trying to push herself onto her hind legs instead of stand on all four for a while. "Please, m-make it stop. Don't turn me into a mindless animal!" All the muscles of her body were pulling in new and confusing ways, not entirely wrong, but not quite right either for that matter, she's unable to do little but roll on the unhelpful ground, queasy dizziness rising to pure nauseated stomach churning peculiarity, all but howling through her clenched teeth as even they change a bit.The last thing to change was always the vocals and the remnants of her mind. Normally, with Type A, the instincts overtake, and the finality of it would leave the subject nothing more than a beast. Which would, obviously, be more frightened and confused than anything else. No hate, no attempts to communicate, none of the rest of what came with a Type B. Simon tilted his head, watching as the final changes took place, the last of Emie's weight shifting and absorbing into her new form. At least she wouldn't be hungry for a time, with so much mass being broken-down and reintroduced to her systems. It had made her slightly plump, but nothing a normal deer wouldn't be with good feeding. Now, the only thing to do was watch. See what met him now.

The deer before him tried to push itself up as the changes stop, a small bit of still aching pain still jostling and causing bleated sounds. Its head rolls strangely, making louder, fearful calls. Skittering about wildly and tugging at the leash but not really giving any indications of intelligence. Those eyes are wide with fear, turned away from him at the moment, as Emie panics at the new body, her inability to speak, and the terror in realising she is still sentient. . . as well as something else, her body giving a small shudder.

Simon saw nothing out of the ordinary in his appraisal, but there was only one real way to find out. He calls out softly, "Emie." The feral form creature flinches at the sound of her name, backing away a step, but it's still not entirely fair to assume it was a reaction to the word and not just the sound of something speaking. She manages to stand though, even on wobbly legs, staring at the ground as she continues to make sad-sounding bleats.

"Hmm," Simon hummed to himself, thoughtful. It may have worked. If so, then there would be no further need to put her through any of the contraption. Merely a tranquillizer until she could be moved to the cervine enclosure on the surface. Ready to greet the public once the company's new zoo fully opened. But . . . it wouldn't do to be unsure. He began walking from the table, making a slow circle around the room, until he could see her face, and she his.

She twisted her head up as he moved around near her, definitely now looking at him, with fear plain in her eyes. Her strange body language giving the hint that she is definitely there. Trying to pull away and turning to keep her eyes on him without getting caught in the chain, she unsteadily raises a fore-limb. Threatening a kick if he tried to close on her.

He stops, tilting his head again, those motions troubling. He sets the remote down for a moment, and kneels, though not within her reach. He folds his hands across his legs and inquires, "Emie . . . can you understand me?" she growls in answer giving an angry nod as she swings her leg at him, already realising words won't work. She twists her long and more flexible neck down trying to scrape at the collar as if it might help more than her attempts with fingers. All the while keeping watch on him. Not able to charge given the shortness of the chain or back away given the cramped area.

Simon slumped a bit, sighing. "Oh my . . . it would seem you've won the Type-B lottery. I'm so sincerely sorry, Emie." His words are earnest, but not even a bit genuinely apologetic or regretful, more born of pity. He picks up the remote again, and rises. "The final effect will be upon you, soon, and I fear you'll enjoy that even less when all is said and done. But at least during isn't so bad, perhaps." Her ears twitch up at that declaration, still bothered about what this Type-B they kept referring to meant. And. . . did he always look this attractive? She felt embarrassedly hot and bothered looking at him, and even pulled back as far as she could, as something bubbled inside her. She wondered if she shouldn't be drawing nearer, her tail raising up at the confusing instinctual thoughts that were creeping up. She rolled her head clearing her thoughts and glaring once more. Another animal bleat thrown his way. Confused and angered and. . . something else.

Simon grimaced softly, "Yes, I know, you're likely very angry. I understand completely. But do try to understand, examining your results and your genetic code will help us improve the process. You still will give great help to my research. And as I said before, you will be taken care of. Now . . . I'm afraid this next part is unpleasant, but it's for your safety, as well as that of anyone who interacts with you." He clicks on the remote, and the chain pulls taut again, beginning to retract further toward the machine, pulling her with implacable strength. At the same time, the frame of the machine opens up, blossoming like a metallic maw awaiting a meal, the harness and various straps opening wide. No mistaking who they were waiting for. Emie tugged, bucked and whined as the machine whirred coldly, pulling her closer to that fate, screaming in her head that this being for her safety was bullshit. But what could she do, as she was inexorably dragged ahead, but try to dig in, or kick at the machine, in the hopes that breaking the thing might slow the process or delay it for any length of time. She tried to shout at him, but still nothing resembling words comes out, begging once again for him to stop whatever he's thinking. The scary array getting closer and closer to her with each second.

Simon watched, seemingly impassive, but there was that slight flash of hunger again. He didn't want to make her suffer so, and this thing was so ghastly . . . but . . . here he was putting her at his mercy again. Her struggles were so valiant, her guttural noises so plaintive. He grunted and tried to put that out of his mind again. This had to be done. No good having her hurt herself or anyone else. She was far too panicked, after all. This had to be done. With a final pull, the chain began to draw the scrambling doe into the machine's embrace, plates and gears reacting to her weight to put the restraint sequence into effect. The first to fall was the main harness, coming down widely around her and scooping her into proper place, cold mechanical arms latching it into place around her midsection even as she twisted inside. Pulled so tight that the straps furrowed her fur even before the added weight and gravity pushed them in further. This harness put her into position for the loops to draw around her front legs, up near the top, attached to strong wires that allowed her to keep her stance, but kept her from kicking too far, or scratching too much. She flailed as the loops loomed toward her, kicking at them trying to push away at them, even managing to hook one hoof inside for a moment and leverage about an inch from the harness, before it dropped her back down. The straps squeaking and wires giving the occasional creak as her legs were forced into them and trapped in place. She staggered forward in an almost Mantis-like pose as she was drawn deeper toward immobilization..The harness and front loops then joined the chain in pulling her forward, fully into the machine, and a rear set of loops caught her rear legs, again near the top, and for the same purpose. No kicking allowed. Soon locked down by the unforgiving metal limbed creation. The last touch was a brace that came down around her head and pushed it straight, giving her no room for thrashing as a strapped muzzle carrying an odd device was pushed forward onto her and tied tight. She came as close to screaming as she could as the head vicing brace probed forward. Emie made a loud, high-pitch braying noise. In so doing she parted her jaws wide, though the machine still soon took care of that, clamping them down and shut as thick straps were woven in place, covering the bulk of her snout. She whimpered again, feeling the terror of the abduction all over, reminded by the strap over her nose. Similar safety measures, she could still utter and lick, but no longer had a risk of biting. The braces and mechanical arms then retracted leaving her held by the wires and harness alone, stock-straight within the frame.

She tried every last thing her terrified mind could think to try, more tears flowing down in panic. The effort of her struggles now only audible, barely visible, stuck as she had become. As the motors and mechanical processes ceased, Simon took an audible breath. "There now, that's over with. Please, Emie, try to relax. We wouldn't be so monstrous as to keep you in there forever. It's really just until we move you to your new enclosure, and when you may present a danger." He moved around and set the remote back into its place. He then leaned over the side of it, his eyes unconsciously scanning over her held form. "With time, hopefully you'll learn to adapt . . . and maybe even behave. Then we can be so much easier on you." His hands swung slightly as they draped over the side, then he furtively moved to place one upon her side. He held it there for a moment, feeling her frightened breath and nervous heartbeat . . . then began to rub his fingers through her fur, causing another whimper, though in disbelief as her body was telling her she liked it. She did need to calm down, after all. He could help with that. It was only right.

She shakes her head tears still running from her still too-anthro eyes. Her efforts making her fall limp in despair at the lack of progress. She bleats again, frightened sounds, though her mouth is greatly diminished in motion by the muzzle. Even though this was the monster who stole her life, and trapped her like this for what she can only presume is going to be a very long time, just that stroking is strangely.. comforting. She tries to sob out at him pathetically, both pleading for more soothing, and for him to not treat her as if she was dangerous. If they'd just let her go, she thought, she'd try to keep calm at least for the moment, and even not try to stamp his evil heart in. She was lost in thought for so long, that her breathing had changed without her noticing, the warming touch also fully reawakening that strange spark she felt earlier, it wasn't until her hips wiggled again and she felt a coldness of air circulation that she realised, she was wet down there again. And. . . more than that. . . she'd been almost purring.

He watched her idly, though his eyes were almost piercing in their intensity. His hand continued to stroke, moving down her flank and closer to her hip, petting softly, rubbing . . . almost caressing, moving slowly ever backward. "I suppose I should explain further. It might ease your mind? First, though, the device on your muzzle. It will grant you your voice back. Electronic modulation from your own voice-patterns. You may not want to ask how we got them. Please try not to scream, or I will have to shut it off again." He reaches to touch a button upon said device, and a slight flare of electronic static hissed from it before fading away, heralding the return of her ability to speak. She cowered, and as the device switched over, her whimpering became more human in sound, though distorted through the speaker. She froze hearing her old voice, well, mostly, and sort of nervously tried to speak "H-hello?" She gave a relieved sob, just relishing in that for the moment. As seconds go by of his caressing touch, they soothe her further but also awaken that 'Type-B lust'. "W-what's happening to me, I. . . feel. . . I feel weird. P-please, change me back, it's obvious your experiment didn't work right? So please, let me go home. Or at least, let me loose. I p-promise I won't try and hurt you. Just don't leave me like this." She tried to strain against the binds again, not even causing them to creak.

"It's only for a short time, sweet Emie. I promise. Only until I move you." He let his hand drift to the thick fluff of her rear, still gently stroking. Sniffling slightly she hoped that meant she'd be changed back again, perhaps when whatever changes calmed. She wanted to protest that she wasn't dangerous, but he kept going. "As for the feelings, that's common. You see, sometimes the transformation process isn't complete. The one-in-five chance I mentioned. The subject is left with their mind intact . . . or most of it, at least. As well as other features that did not completely change. These subjects, like yourself, have come to be known as 'Type B'. As for the strange feelings, that is another aspect. We haven't fully been able to explain it, but for whatever reason, the systems of Type B subjects are predisposed to estrus, or 'heat' as it's known. Even a similar response in the males. It can be lessened, but it ultimately returns, and frequently."

"Where are you going to move me, what do you mean? A-and h-how can it be lessened? What happened to the others?" A barrage of questions, some of which had been rattling in her mind already, but she twists her neck round, trying to rub the muzzle off. "Hm. I wouldn't do that, or else you will lose your voice again." He paused before resuming to make sure his words stopped her. "You will be moved to an enclosure where you will stay . . . for a time." Might as well let the poor girl hope. "We have a separate facility for all Type B subjects. Others like you. They are all safe and well there, I assure you. As for the harness, it must remain on for this time. But once I move you I will let you out of it, until such time as you need to be put back in again. Not all of it is up to me, I'm afraid." His insistent fingers continue to stroke and tickle through the fluff at her rear, drawing ever closer to her sex. All for her own good. It would help so much, to calm her, to give her good feelings, and some small relief, yes, it was all for her. "And I'm afraid the only way to lessen your heat is through stimulation. But it becomes rather overpowering, and even quite uncomfortable, to leave you unfulfilled. It is the only way to soothe you."

She huffs sadly at him "Don't you have some other chemical, something that'll take it away? Please I. . . I keep having embarrassing thoughts. I don't want this feeling." She blushes deeper, knowing exactly what the was feeling but not wanting to voice the word arousal. . . nay, desperation. Indeed going through intense heat and some animal part of her mind, the part that changed, is almost hoping that the doctor would fulfil his promise and mate with her feral form. Wanting him, needing him. But still her intellect demanding an alternate way out from his proposal, even as every part of her body asks for the first path. "Please. . . d-do something for it."

He clucks softly. "I'm afraid chemicals would hurt you over time, or cause unwanted reactions in your systems, we have tried. The only way is . . . the natural way." The hunger was coming back. Even like this, she was so beautiful. She was reacting to him back on the table, but like this . . . like this she would want him. Need him, even. It may only be because he's the only male near, but it's not nothing. It was a good thing to help her. He couldn't help a slight churr from deep inside as his hand strayed to her genitals, sleek fingertips brushing over them gently.

She lets out a shuddering breath, even by the time his fingers have got there she was ready, her mound wetting the obscuring fur that surrounded it, and openly pleading, her chest rapidly breathing in pants as that little stimulation is enough to tip the delicate balance between lust and pride. "Y-yes, m-more of that p-please. Just make the itching s-s-stop." She added a little groan at the end tugging the bindings as she does so. Trying to get loose as her baser thoughts take over. Were she unrestrained she'd already be trying to corner and pounce him in some way.

He coos again, "Of course, Emie. I'll take care of you. I promised I would." His probing fingers become more assertive, rubbing fully at her heated folds, feeling the slickness and warmth there. His own crotch warming of its own, the steady pressure building in his pants again as he watched her moan and twitch and sigh. All for him. To have him. To have him have her. He rubbed more forcefully, in slow, deliberate circles, winding her--and himself--up.

She made a soft and needy whine, drawing the sound out. Pressing backward into his rubbing, "M-more!" She whimpered, muscles tensing up. Her neck tried to bend to look toward him watching, waiting. The sure touch of his fingers teasing her sex made her pant harder, her thoughts becoming dumber and simpler just by the continued motion. She felt more in love than she'd felt with anyone before, and that after no small amount of relationships.

He grunted and nodded, the darkness overtaking him again. "Yes. More." He left her then, rising and moving around, looking down at this doe, this prize, so hot and wanting. She groaned a bit, almost sadly as he moved away, shaking her head. "N-no, no. Please, k-keep going don't s-stop!" She panted out desperately. He began to undress once in front of her, quickly tossing away his lab coat, his tie, his shirt. The thick ruff of his male chest showed, as too his strong muscles and toned stomach. His antlers gleamed in the bright lights. Truly, he was a strong buck, a worthy mate. He knew she saw it. Well, she would see it all. Quickly, he fumbled open his belt and pants, pushing them down along with his underwear and kicking it all away in a huff. There he stood, naked as she, buck-to-doe. His reddish shaft was already poking halfway from his sheath at his ministrations of her, at her scent. Now it was time to give her his. He stepped forward, closer to her, offering her his crotch. "Show me, doe. Show me how much you want your buck."

Emie swallowed blushing at the sight of him though, seeing the full extent of him at last, she strained her neck forward trying to nuzzle at him, and encourage him to go back. Her hips trying to bend round to present herself, though she sniffed deeply, the smell of him raising her desperation further in a gargled moan. "Oh, but I'm not ready yet, see? Lick," he commands, again pushing himself at her, grunting deeply, a sexual sound. "Get me hard, taste me, and I will soothe you more."

She whines, shaking her head slightly in some small measure of defiance, the animal level not seeing how that helps, and the intelligent level still repulsed at the idea of 'serving' this black-hearted hart. Pulling back and shaking her hips again. "P-please, back there." He growled, leaning over and grabbing her muzzle, giving it a shake. All pretence of helping her was gone at this point. How dare she refuse. He controlled her very life! He would rut her when he was damn good and ready, and not before. "You will do as I say, or I will leave you on fire! Not even able to lick _yourself_ for relief! Now LICK!" He pressed his shaft against her snout again, angrily. Her expression recoiled in animal fear at the outburst, jaw quivering slightly but she finally hangs her head, eyes closing and her tongue obeying, licking at his red shaft, even as she whimpers again, hating herself and him anew, but yet, the threat is too risky, too real and she can't bear this for another minute as it is! Her tongue dances and plays, inexperienced and unwilling both, but desperate nonetheless.

"Yesss, just like that. There's a good doe," he hummed, his voice softening again, though still with an edge of control. His member grew harder with her actions, his musk thicker at her sensitive nostrils. His hips arched a bit at her, pushing against her soft tongue and ragged breath. Finally, he moans gutturally, and pulls away, quickly moving around behind her. The flavour and scent of him still filling her senses, even after he departed, she whined softly as he reached her rear, wiggling pleadingly, needily. He kneels without pretence or hesitation, and stuffs his muzzle into her rump, inhaling sharply of her wickedly-arousing scent, and then licking deeply and madly at her gushing sex. Emie herself just lost in that need again, she gasped and her jaw dropped open, tongue almost lolling cartoonishly as he pressed in and lapped at her folds. That cervine tongue brushing so well. He kept licking, probing and sliding and teasing, broadly outside and piercingly in, deeper and deeper, his own churring and grunting as audible as hers at this point. At long last, able to take it no longer, he rears up, standing behind her and positioning to mount her roughly, his thickness plunging deep. He groans loudly as he starts to thrust with his own instinctual need.

As she twisted to see him again, fully standing and fully erect, her eyes widened at what was obviously about to happen, a conflict of wills inside her head as she howled out "No! Stop! S-sto-s-sorry. Please, please help me, let me feel you there." As her need wins over her will once more, the deep thrusting that lodging into and tugging her walls, the shifted position and changed form enriching it and making it so new and alien, all while the desperate heat causes her to clench around him.

His hooves clopped next to hers, his arms around her flanks, crouching as he covered her back, humping forcefully, her cries-turned-pleading only encouraged him to push further against her as his powerful hips worked. His shaft riding up deep within the feral cervine's depths. He could feel her clench and pull, almost drawing every thrust, welcoming him, begging him inside as well as out. She groaned and grunted, getting steadily louder, a mix of bestial and coherent noises, the metal creaking a bit more, as she tugs around, trying to suckle him in almost. Murring out and squealing at his continued workings, her feminine pit aflame with lust, need, and pleasure in an incredible mix, unlike she's felt before, and caught in that moment, her mind questions if this really is so bad after all. Especially if this is going to have to happen again. After a few minutes of lustful eternity, his thrusts grow harder, his groans deeper, his eyes clenched as he leant over her, nuzzling at her side almost the way a feral buck would. His shaft throbs, yearning for release as he grinds it into her again and again, until at last he hits his peak, thrusting in hard and holding his shuddering hips to hers as he bursts forth deep within her, his guttural groan not unlike feral bleating in his own right.

Two thrusts after him she pants out as she reaches climax herself, her body awash with pleasure after she feels him erupt, tensing up to receive and suck the torrent out of him with a wild hunger. She just breathes for a long time in happy bliss, the feeling so relieving and superb, even going so far as to pant out a "Thank you." An almost Stockholm bond forming from what should have been a troubling and brutal thing. Something she began to realise later when clarity returned. But for the next few moments, her mind remained overcome by the lusty feeling of release. Simon panted deeply, staying atop her for a brief moment, the rage of lust and hunger leaving his own mind quickly. "You are . . . hahh . . . welcome." Shouldn't waste any further time, her thoughts would be cleared all too soon after all. He pulls himself from her with an audible slurp, and moves around to his clothes again, rummaging for his handkerchief to wipe off his pelvis and slowly-wilting member. He then dresses quickly, as cleanly as he can, saying nothing for the moment.

Emie sat dazed though the lips of her vacant smile slowly sharpened as gradually she came to her sense. The lust ebbed away, she twists her head round at him again, "Ho-. . . why. . . why is this happening to me? What did I do?" She sobs, her hatred and anguish returning now and lament at her situation. The pain and aches from the bondage and transformation setting in now that the lust and need is gone, turning to watch him and his suddenly fast and efficient movements again. "Please, let me go home again. Let me be back to normal. I hate this already."

Shaking his head he finally spoke again. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Emie. You see, my company doesn't just want to benefit the world. They are, as all companies are, interested in making money. For the Type A subjects, that means a zoo. A place to bilk the eager families and children, to put up overpriced goods and t-shirts in gift-shops, and to charge triple for a sandwich and a soda." Smoothing out his tie and lab coat again, he moves over to the far wall in front of her, and flips open a small panel to enter a code into a keypad. The wall itself begins to slide away, revealing a passageway to an open area beyond. Simon moves back to the harness frame, and pulls out the remote again, touching a few buttons. A set of wheels and tracks upon the bottom unlock, and he simply starts to push the entire contraption down the hall, with Emie still within it.She squeaks out as the entire thing starts to move, still trapped, she swallows audibly in fear. "B-but I'm not a Type A, r-right? What are you gonna do with me?" As she's moved down the hallways away from the place, her mind remembering in a scary flash, Jones' question about Type-B, it felt he'd asked it so long ago now. She starts to sob again, dangling spread and loosely in the air, and rocked oddly by the motion.

As they exit the hallway, a vast underground complex becomes apparent, as large as a stadium, made up of a network of enclosures and pens, each one tailored to specific animals and dressed-up in faux natural settings. Despite air-scrubbers and piped-in scents, the odours of various animals is unmistakable. Even more unmistakable are the odours of animals in heat. Simon walks her purposefully down a particular path, knowing quite where he's going. "You, as all Type B subjects, are to be part of quite a different zoo. It would be much too difficult to keep intelligent animals from getting into trouble with the general populace, and bringing unwanted attention to my research. Not to mention how dangerous and aggressive one beast in heat can be, much less several. So the only recourse is to seek a different sort of patronage. Patronage that would seek to help you all with your particular 'problem', while paying greatly for the privilege. The idle rich will throw money at anything, it seems." A wry chuckle as if she'd enjoy the joke with him, but she was of course far from a mindset to see the humour. "No no, please. You can't be serious. You can't do this! I have a life, a family, you can't steal that from me and just make me disappear! E-especially to be prey to sick twisted perverts with more money than morals!" She takes a deep breath then, suddenly shouting out loudly. "Help! Someone! Help me! Please!" She tries to buck and squirm hoping the momentum of movement might somehow help.

Simon grunts as her sudden energy twisted the wheels off course a bit. Letting go and moving forward to roughly grab her muzzle, he swiftly deactivated the vocal translator. "Quite enough of that, Emie. I most certainly can do this, and most certainly am. You'd best get used to it. Just picture all the pleasure you'll be getting, with no cares or worries for providing for yourself. There are those who would kill for such a life." He pulls something else from the frame around her, and quickly brings up a red ball gag in his hand, which he pulls her muzzle to him to force into her mouth. The muzzle-straps had only just enough give, and held it quite in place as he releases her, continuing to move on with her toward a particular enclosure, the door of which is open. She holds to hope for several moments given he was so hasty and on edge at silencing her, maybe it was possible that bringing attention might bring escape. She brayed loudly again, hoping that -anyone- would hear, though her eyes widened in horror and she tried to pull away from the rubber ball he pulled out, despair setting in. No chance that he was afraid then, because a deer with a gag would raise far more questions if anyone cared to ask. He forces it in, and her teeth squeeze down pathetically on it, turning teary eyes at him.

He sighs softly, reaching to stroke her side again, trying to be comforting in his creepy way again. "I do hope you come to adjust to this life. Others have. Some of them will even quite willingly converse with you, though I wouldn't expect any help. They enjoy this all too much." He manoeuvres her "cage" into a bracket inside the enclosure and locks it down, leaving plenty of room on all sides. He then taps another button on the remote, and a further attachment to the harness is brought down upon her again, her head held in place as shaped posture-collar is wrapped around her neck and bound to her harness, restricting the movements of her head. "I'm afraid we can't have you pleasuring yourself in any way. We find it makes Type-Bs much more cooperative." He moves his hand down to pat at her hip once the neck-corset is in place. "Don't worry, though, I will be sure to visit you often, myself." Moving off, he takes the remote with him, and once outside, closes the clear enclosure door. He presses a final button on the remote, which frees all the catches and loops holding her in place, though leaving her quite kept within the harness, neck-corset, and muzzle-gag. She landed heavily and shakily as the machine deposited her onto the ground, already the itch could be felt rising, but slower this time, and it wouldn't become unbearable for a while, but always there, leaving her exposed and 'ready' for whoever next opened the door. The chain attached to her collar also goes slack and freely unwinds, allowing her to pull free of the frame. Simon then sets the remote within a holder on the outside of her door, and turns without another glance in her direction, moving off toward one end of the complex, from which the sounds of commotion and inflowing people is already emanating.

Once back on her feet, she ran to the door, butting against it for a while and trying to force it open, or somehow work it loose, though the slack in the chain was already off the ground to let her know she still wouldn't get far, she already felt along and hoped that maybe she could at least find someone to talk to, maybe even one of her fellow neighbours. But that would only matter if anyone even took the time to allow her to speak again. Hanging her head in sorrow until a noise approached. The sound of approaching steps, she backed into a corner and hid away hoping she'd go unnoticed, but filled with doubt. After all, she was the new attraction, and it was opening time. . .