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I'll write you very good I'll write you very bad I'll write you as the devil in the dark dreams that I've had and when I wake up screaming at your twisted, tender touch I'll know I've been a good boy as you thank me very much

---

Big, smug fucker.

The kind that had given him shit in school. The kind that had looked down their noses at him at university, despite the fact that his achievements dwarfed their own. The kind that pissed him off and generally walked all over people at every turn in life just because they could.

Perhaps "pissed him off" didn't quite cover it.

Where in history had the idea become ratified that you could subsist entirely on ego and charisma? Taking what you wanted without merit, just because people couldn't resist your charm, your size, or your looks. Just because the complete crapshoot of genetics had rewarded you with a jackpot.

But in all of that chaos and injustice, there was a kernel of inspiration. Halfway through medical school he had begun to realize that there were tools at his disposal to correct these... failings of nature. To put right a few imbalances. To deflate a few egos... if only he could bring himself to do it.

He had talked himself into and out of it a hundred times over the years. Now, 5 years older and in his own practice, the old hunger had returned. His successes hadn't been enough. His scholastic accolades hadn't been enough. He finally came to realize that nothing would ever be enough... unless he could fix things.

He had seen the muscular elephant leaving the military base once a month for nearly a year... and frankly he was hard to miss. Broad as a bus and muscled like a twelve year-old's ideal of masculinity, the pachyderm that everyone called "Sgt. Grahl" regularly went to the barber shop across the street from the Doc's practice for a trim, then out for a "night on the town" after. His brush cut grew slowly, but like all pachys he had bristles everywhere - and the gator that ran the barber shop seemed to have a knack for shaping the growth and making it look military-tight despite its natural inclinations.

Today he walked -- no strutted -- out of the shop looking exceptional even for him. Some recent fluke of his duty had given him a good bit of sun, and that combined with his flawless physique and fresh haircut had pushed the needle well past "cocky" and deep into the "asshole" range of the Doc's internal meters. Big, smug fucker. This time he decided to do something about it.

The office was empty - Doc had learned to schedule light on Fridays - so when Grahl stepped out of the barber shop at six looking like walking pornography, he was ready. He watched as the elephant slung his jacket over his shoulder and went into the pub a few doors down for an early drink while he waited for his band of drinking buddies to trickle in from the base.

The wolverine quietly packed his med bag and changed, slipping on his gym clothes, before getting to work. He emptied out the large store room in the basement and cleared the floor drain, intentionally leaving the table and a number of other tools behind. He stocked the shelves with a wild assortment of supplies that made it impossible to distinguish whether he was preparing for surgery, or a hunting trip -- though something in the middle was more akin to the truth. Then he closed the all of the blinds and walked out.

He sat in the bar near Grahl and listened, not paying obvious attention. Lots of cocky bullshit about sports teams, guns, and pussy. It was all he could do not to yawn, roll his eyes, and vomit simultaneously. The thought of the gesture actually made him chuckle to himself. Then the elephant shot him an angry glance and said "what's so funny, faggot?".

He didn't respond. He didn't even react, beyond a subtle hardening of his features. He just continued to smile and drink his drink. "I didn't think so." Grahl sneered, confident that he had just bullied another local into silence. What he didn't realize was that he had just guaranteed the outcome of his evening. Doc had just about talked himself out of what he was about to do for the thousandth time... but now? The wolverine quietly closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He knew he was about to cross a line... but did the man sitting at the end of the bar deserve what awaited him in the little basement room?

Damn straight. Smug fucker.

As Grahl neared the bottom of his second beer and the sun began to reflect low off the windows of the shops across the way, Doc excused himself and paid his bill before stepping outside. He knew Grahl would be moving along to another bar soon in order to maximize his exposure -- what good was looking like that if you didn't make sure that everyone saw it? When he did, Doc planned to be ready.

Ten minutes later, right on time, Grahl stepped from the bar into the alley. Doc smiled and stuffed his hands into his pockets, then started to whistle in a comic impression of "a guy minding his own business". He was smaller than the elephant... but then again, so was everyone else. Doc had never accepted that being small meant being weak... and his compact frame housed a good bit of lithe muscle. In this instance, he did his best to hide his athletic build and look like a victim.

"Shit. Looks like I got some kind of faggot teddy bear stalking me." he rumbled to nobody in particular, but loudly enough so that nobody within earshot could possibly avoid hearing it. The effect was intended to mortify, but the Doc just smiled and looked up from under his brows. "Actually, I'm a wolverine. But I forgive you for not knowing that - you don't really look too smart."

Grahl did a mental double-take: getting shit from anyone rather than starting it himself was a completely new experience. "I know you're not talking to me, faggot!" he bellowed angrily, and started striding aggressively toward the seemingly unperturbed wolverine in the white lab coat.

He advanced on the smaller man, doing his level best to pour every moment of the ass-kicking that was about to take place into his glare. "You got a lotta balls, I'll give you that, teddy bear. But you're going to regret that when I'm shoving them up your ass."

The doc raised an eyebrow, wary and snide "Here you are offering to spend the evening shoving things up my ass, and I'm a faggot?". The elephant literally sputtered with rage now. As he reached the wolverine, he jutted his tusks menacingly and jabbed the smaller man in the chest with his trunk, each blow punctuating his speech. "SMART little FUCKER'S got himself a DEATH wish."

And he knew something was wrong.

His instincts were top notch, his training was extensive, and at that precise moment he knew something was wrong.

But his rage carried him forward like a train trying to slam on its brakes at the edge of a cliff.

The Wolverine flipped up his lab coat like a matador - then spun around and caught Grahl's trunk in the wide mouth of a fabric bag. Before he could react, Doc had yanked the drawstring so tight that it dug into the elephant's trunk viciously... then looped it over the end of his tusk so that he could not pull the the powerful muscle back within reach of his hands.

Panic in his eyes, Grahl let out a strangled bellow. In all his years of brawling this was the first time that anyone had gotten the drop on him, and the realization now dawned on him that he wasn't facing a straight-up fistfight. He wanted to rage and punch and gore, and instead the little wolverine was dancing just out of range of his tusks, seeming almost bored.

"What the fuck!" he spat "What the fuck are you playing at!"

But the Doctor never stopped smiling... he just continued to avoid Grahl, ducking effortlessly behind a dumpster. He kicked off the wall and was behind Grahl before the elephant even knew what was happening. Grahl spun, doing his his best to keep up with the agile wolverine... but the elephant began to stumble.

"Would you like to know something about yourself? I've gotten the impression that you're not terribly interested in knowing anything that doesn't improve your chances of ruining someone else's day, but I'll share it with you anyway. Did you know that pachyderms pull 50% of their air intake through their trunks? No matter how hard you try, you're going to be mine in a very short while."

Grahl's face melted. His eyes went wide and began to dart around the alley, scanning for signs of help or a possible escape route.

"Oh no you don't." The wolverine leaped onto the tusk and swung with his full bodyweight, pulling the elephant's head toward the ground and forcing him to stagger drunkenly before dropping to his knees.

"I love that your body is already betraying you to me, big man. I would never have been able to cover your trunk and your mouth -- and I would certainly never have been able to overcome you physically. But I didn't have to, did I? You helped me out there, didn't you? All I had to do was be patient. All I had to do was let you smother under the weight of your own ego. That's a little delicious, isn't it, Sergeant? The big, powerful marine... completely subdued... utterly humiliated..." he spread his hands in a mocking gesture of surprise "... by me."

Grahl was swaying wildly now, throwing punches at the air and trying to drag the wolverine off his tusk against the wall... the dumpster... anything.... but he was too big and clumsy to do so. And the drug was already winning.

"NO! I... ffffuucking... ffffffag..." he huffed, stumbling to the ground. His head swam as the fumes burned his lungs and made his eyes water. He did his best to shift his weight to one side, avoiding snapping off his tusk as he crumpled sloppily to the pavement. Heaving, twisting, the alley sliding out of focus. He wheezed and moved his head, trying to drag the cloth sack from his tusk.

"Jesus, would you just hurry up and pass out? I know you're strong, but we've got shit to do, big guy." The wolverine was taunting him! And at that moment he realized that he was actually in trouble. For the first time in his life, he wasn't in control... and the wolverine's eyes looked like the doors to a blast furnace as they glared down at him with a searing edge of loathing.

"That's right.

Over and out, sergeant. Give it up. Time to go.

You big.

Smug.

Fucker."

He tasted metal in his throat just before the alley turned to light.

Admittedly, the part of his plan that seemed the least-well-conceived was "transporting the huge, unconscious marine from the alley to the secret lair" - but it's remarkable how willing people are to bend their acceptance around things when you give them the slightest thread plausibility to consider. Nice doctor... lab coat... wheelchair... doctor's office... nothing weird about that. As he rolled past the bar, one of the other patrons who had been inside barked out a laugh behind him. He paused, insides turning icy as he waited for the conflict to follow - but none came. "Hah. Grahl finally had one too many! I'll never let him live this one down!"

The doc laughed, a smirk curling one half of his mouth. "Yeah, he didn't count on my metabolism when he made that bet - I burn alcohol like a sports car". The hound just hooted in agreement "Hahah, serves him right - always runnin' that mouth of his!"

"Yeah." whispered Doc almost inaudibly, still smiling "serves him right."

But as gently... as carefully... as he had moved the slumbering pachy across the street and into the front door of his office, he had no intention of continuing the trend once they were inside. Once through the entry and past the reception desk, the Doc turned and locked the heavy glass door. He glanced around one last time to make sure that everything was secure, punched the transfer button on the phone system, and continued to push Grahl's limp body to the elevator. The elephant's huge head thudded into countertops and bumped off of walls. One tusk left a deep rut in the cherry magazine rack in the hall. With each impact, the wolverine snarled "oops!" or "sorry!" or "Wow, bet that hurt!" Nope - Grahl had burned up all his goodwill and sympathy... and now it was his turn to see how it felt when someone didn't respect you... or even give a shit about you.

The service door at the rear of the elevator slid open. Doc shoved Grahl's bulk unceremoniously over the divider and into the hallway, then moved toward the heavy metal door of the storeroom. He had cleared it out and refitted it specifically for this task, and his efforts had transformed the space. A heavy metal autopsy table was stationed in the center of the room. It was designed for larger species, but even so would barely accommodate Grahl. A pair of manacles had been bolted to the concrete floor at the head of the table, and a symmetrical set was connected at the foot. An old storage shelf had been moved into the room and was now stocked with a variety of implements and supplies, and a black rubber hose had been connected to a water supply by the floor drain to clean up... messes. A small refrigerator contained a pair of IV bags filled with clear fluid and a series of syringes filled with colors that would have seemed almost cheerful, had they not been... syringes.

He pushed Grahl alongside the table, fighting the urge to simply dump him onto the concrete. No, letting his anger get the best of him would only cost him more effort. This was punishment... not revenge. No pain would be inflicted that didn't serve a higher purpose. He turned and locked deadbolt on the door, then placed the keys into the back of the refrigerator and set about the task of hoisting 700 pounds of muscle out of a wheelchair.

But the wolverine was strong, and what he lacked in pure bulk he more than made up in ingenuity. A few cargo straps and a bit of leverage and he managed to pulley Grahl onto the table. From there it was just a matter of arranging. He moved around the room with purpose, first taking a pair of wicked looking shears to the elephant's clothing. The curved blades slid through the fabric effortlessly and he was soon tugging the remains of shirt, pants and tattered shorts out from under his patient. He tried not to notice Grahl's build as he worked - but in spite of himself, by the time the last shreds of the elephant's regulation olive boxers were removed, Doc was achingly... deliciously hard.

"Serves him right." Doc said aloud with conviction... to only himself.

He moved Grahl's arms up within reach of the restraints and couldn't help but admire their beauty... corded muscle rolling and flexing, even when their owner was completely unconscious. He found himself slowly moving the arm back and forth just to examine the interplay of bone and sinew, then took a deep breath and clasped the shackles over Grahl's wrists before doing the same to the elephant's feet. He circled the table and looked at Grahl from every angle, making sure that everything was secure.

Miscalculating his strength would be a fatal mistake, and one that he was not about to make. He absently ran his fingertips along Grahl's tusk. He paused, then brightened as he scanned his mental inventory of the space. He rifled through the contents of the supply shelf and returned with a pair of racquet balls that he had previously drilled out to use as doorstops. Bracing his foot against the elephant's huge jaw, he forced one of the hard rubber spheres onto the pointed end of each tusk, wedging it tightly into place. "No chances," he muttered.

Next he moved to the refrigerator and returned with two of the syringes, the first a mild stimulant to help dispel the remaining effects of the ether, and the second was baclofen - a muscle relaxer to help make sure that Grahl's strength and coordination were less of a concern. He waited for the elephant to stir, then casually hit him with a blast of ice-cold water from the hose.

Grahl jumped instantly and strained at the cuffs sending a shockwave through the floor that Doc felt in the soles of his feet - but they held and showed no signs of letting go. Doc allowed himself a smile.

"Good morning, sergeant."

He knew he wouldn't get much conversation. The remaining ether would leave Grahl disoriented and the baclofen would be well on its way to making him feel sloppy and uncoordinated. He had been guessing on the dosages for this... rather specialized use, but that had been something of his trademark in school: coming up with incredibly useful ways to misuse the interactions of existing medications.

---

He circled the table now, minding the marker lines he had scrawled on the floor to approximate the reach of his guest. He hovered just outside of them. "Time to wake up, sergeant. You're not setting a very good example, laying around like this. You're going to be late for mess."

Grahl groaned and tried to reach up to his skull, but his hands stopped short by several inches as the chains thudded and ran out of slack. He finally seemed to register that something was amiss.

"What the fffff... ohhh god. My fuckin' head. What the FUCK is going on!" He rolled his head now, his capped tusks making the Doc think of the stick shift in his car for a giddy moment. His eyes fixed on the wolverine smiling clinically in his lab coat... and they narrowed with hate.

"What 'the fuck is going on', sergeant, is that I've decided to provide you with some additional training. The marine corps has supplied you with quite an arsenal of tools, but what they don't seem to have imparted is discipline or respect."

"What the fuck do you know about discipline!" Grahl slurred, wincing at the volume of his own voice.

"I know that if you had any, you'd treat others with a much greater degree of respect. And I know that for some reason, you feel that you're better than everyone around you. You mistake pride for honor, sir. But don't worry, I'm a doctor... and I'm going to fix you right up."

"Fuck you! You keep your fucking faggot hands off of me! When I get loose, we'll see who needs fixing yy..y.yy..."

The movement was completely casual. If doc had been signing his name on a form or picking up a cracker from a plate, the effort couldn't have seemed any less significant... but the result could not have been more dramatic. He had gently stroked the fine metal bristles of the device in his hand down the elephant's pendulous nutsack, effectively cutting off the words in Grahl's throat. Muscles bunched, his back arched, his ass actually left the table as things contracted completely of their own accord.

"There you go again, sergeant - assuming that I want your opinion. I think that's where we'll start - by establishing the hierarchy for you a little more clearly. You are the sergeant. Consider me the sergeant major. By the way, that was 240 volts. I can go to 500 if you want to try me. The drugs in your system guarantee that you're not going to break anything if I have to get creative."

Grahl lay panting, startled, his rage momentarily disrupted by the urgency of his situation. The look on his face was pure panic - something he clearly hadn't felt before, and definitely didn't like.

"Now, back to the matter at hand. Your military conditioning makes you ideal for what I'm going to do in a lot of regards. You're used to following orders without thinking about them too much, and I can promise you that if you continue in that trend, this will go very easily."

Grahl ground his teeth together, scanning the room for exits... weapons... anything he might use to gain an advantage. He saw very little that would afford him a benefit that he wouldn't gain simply by getting off the goddamn table and getting his legs under him. Fuck! How could he have been so stupid!

---

The Doc paused, considering his approach for a moment... then his tone changed. What would scare this marine more than anything else? He could deal with pain, to be certain - oh he might make a little noise, but there was no doubt he could probably handle as much as the doc was willing to hand out. But his own rather limited imagination... that could be a powerful tool.

"Would you like to know what I'm going to do to you?" Doc asked teasingly.

The elephant's breath caught... just for a moment, but oh yes... that pin had found a nerve, and the Doctor smiled his very best wolverine smile.

He walked around to where he could look the restrained beast directly in the face, and smiled down in a chilling approximation of kindness. "My goal was to teach you some respect - for everyone, to be honest. Let's face facts... you're an ass, Sergeant. You're a sadistic prick who delights in making his hard-working fellows feel inferior. You dishonor your rank."

He could hear the elephant's teeth creaking now, grinding together so tightly that they sounded like a fistful of gravel under a boot. He fought to maintain his emotionless guise, strangling the smile before it could reach his lips.

"I thought about a few ways that I could accomplish that goal, but none of them seemed... hmm. Lasting? You might just humor me in order to escape. You might actually learn something, but even then, I suspect that glowing ember of resentment would eventually flare to life and burn away all my good work. The point is, how would I ever be sure?"

Grahl continued to glare through slitted eyes, saying nothing.

"So I think for you, something a bit more radical is in order. We're going to start over and keep it simple. When I'm done with you, you'll have nothing but respect... at least for me. You'll be my pet. My toy. My perfect, obedient slave."

The elephant's face was contorted in rage now. He was struggling to control himself, falling back on his training. The doc fancied he could practically read his thoughts... "Don't give this nutjob what he wants... just stay cool... wait for your opening and gut him like a fish... don't lose it now."

He allowed himself the briefest of touches on Grahl's huge thigh as he circled again, always talking in a sing-songy monotone. The elephant flinched. "You don't believe me, but that's the beauty of it: you don't have to. By this time tomorrow, you'll be calling me master. You'll be cleaning up after your own conversion wearing nothing but a jockstrap and a smile. Your only thoughts will be of pleasing me, and you'll be lucky if I let you remember your own name. And the very best part? You're going to help me do it."

Grahl was seething now, sweat glistening on his massive chest, musk rising from between his legs and under his arms. The Doc breathed it in and used it to steel his resolve. The creature before him might be an irredeemable asshole - but he was also a work of art, and remaking him would be a triumph.

"We're going to play a game of sorts... and I'm going to give you a choice at every step of the way."

He wheeled a pair IV poles from a dark corner, then went to the refrigerator and retrieved the two of saline and hung them.

"For me to do this without hurting you, you'll need to lie still. And if you don't lie still, I'll just knock you out again. So in addition to getting the IV's into you anyway, you'll also have a spectacular headache... and you'll piss me off. Just for your information, at least for the brief period of time that you'll remember any of this, 'not pissing me off' should become your highest priority."

He walked over to Grahl's left arm and easily found a vein the size of a drinking straw. He jabbed the needle in carefully and taped it securely in place, then looked at his patient. His eyes were narrow and trembling with impotent rage.

"Feeling a bit powerless are we? Well if it makes you feel any better, I have a doctorate and two advanced chemistry degrees. I'm also wicked clever - so you're losing to a vastly superior foe." He paused, wincing to himself at the memory of wheeling an unconscious elephant across the street in broad daylight.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as he walked to the other side of the table. Grahl strained at his restraints again and the flush of fury crept back to his cheeks.

Doc was wary now. He knew he had been pushing buttons and pushing them hard. He'd lose respect for this guy if he didn't try SOMETHING before it was too late - but trying and failing was essential to his reprogramming. As he neared the left arm with the IV needle he had an idea. He intentionally let his erection brush Grahl's arm... "Sorry about that - didn't mean to rub my cock on you." Grahl shook. "Yet." In a flash, he reached out and gripped the wolverine's forearm. His grip was incredibly strong, but the baclofen had done its job - so instead of a bone-shattering crunch, he received a squeeze that would probably leave an impressive bruise - but was well within his tolerance.

"Really, little one? Is that the best you can do? I thought I had captured quite a prize, but now I begin to wonder if I'm simply going to end up playing nursemaid to a sniveling makhna."

The combination of his failed effort and the Wolverine's insult startled the marine and caused his grip to falter. That much pressure should have ruined his captor's arm, and instead he hadn't even reacted to it! "The last guy who called me 'makhna' ended up with 4 inches of ivory in his shoulder!" Grahl spat.

But the doctor continued uninterrupted. In the moment's pause he jabbed the second needle into an equally accessible vein and secured it in place. He took a moment to move above Grahl's head, out of sight, and draw in a deep breath while stroking his arm. Jesus - this fucker was *strong*. "Sergeant, if you try that again, I might consider making the slur a reality for you. Something to think about."

He retrieved two syringes from the refrigerator and returned to Grahl's side. The first was filled with a wicked, cloudy amber substance that looked like something sucked from the gas tank of an old car. In small quantities, the stuff was useful for a variety of joint problems and could actually relieve pain... but the irony of this drug was that the cortisone cocktail the Doc had prepared would do anything BUT alleviate pain. It would, in fact, cause quite a good deal of it. Burning, deep, inescapable pain.

The second syringe was a clean, clear blue that could have passed for Windex. It was a mild hypnotic that he had used many times as a sedative for patients who simply needed a break from their anxieties. One small dose and it became much easier to convince them that everything was going to be okay... and that would serve as a good foundation for his current project.

He emptied the blue syringe into the tap on the elephant's arm and pushed the plunger. Immediately, Grahl felt... something. The room swam and twisted slightly but he couldn't put his finger on what was happening. His breathing quickened as panic began to rise... what was this fucker DOING to him?

"I thought this was going to be a challenge, but now that I know I'm dealing with a tuskless makhna, things will probably be over before I'm even wiping my cock on your ear. Weak and submissive... submissive and dumb... dumb and pliable." he repeated himself in monotone as he walked around the table, letting the drug take effect. It wouldn't do much yet, but it would serve to make everything seem a bit more real - make Grahl doubt himself - and that was all that was required. One small chip to start the avalanche.

"I know you want to take my head off right now, sergeant." he leaned in close and watched as the elephant's vision snapped to him with considerable lag now "but I only have your best interests in mind. You haven't done a very good job with yourself, and I think you're going to make a wonderful pet. Instead of making people unhappy, you're going to make me VERY happy. Won't it be nice when you're an eager, attentive, and finally have a purpose in life?"

"I already have... have a purpose!" Grahl shouted, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than the Doctor. "I protect..."

The wolverine cut him off "You have a purpose? Really? Since when did 'denigrating your peers' and 'abusing the weak' achieve 'life's work' status? No, Sergeant. I need you to think bigger. Imagine how much you'll be able to achieve when you're mine... like a great sword, wielded by a master swordsman. You will be a glorious tool for the application of my will."

"Not... not a tool!"

The wolverine blinked back tears of laughter at his choice of words as he struggled to maintain his demeanor.

"Oh yes, big man... you most certainly are a tool. And I'm going to use you. And you're going to beg me to use you."

Grahl was becoming confused... disoriented. His face showed panic and fury, but the drug made him feel distant... disconnected from his rage. The sensations creeping over him made him consider that perhaps his captor was actually telling him the truth. Terror began to gnaw at the edge of his awareness.

"I'm going to give you a shot, Sergeant. The shot is poison. The shot will hurt. And the shot will eventually send you into cardiac arrest and you will die."

The elephant's breathing quickened and he shouted "Fuck you! FUCK YOU you twisted piece of shit."

"Wow, that's an impressive vocabulary, sergeant. It'll be a shame to empty out that library you call a brain." he leaned down "just to clarify though, it'll be me fucking you."

Grahl launched upward again but the chains simply yanked him painfully back to the table. He grunted in frustration and strangled a scream in his throat. The avalanche had begun, and the big marine's resistance was truly failing.

"Back to the matter at hand. Shot. Pain. Die. Did you assimilate that part of the story, sergeant?"

The elephant's harsh breathing continued unbroken. It was time to start his programming.

"I said, did you hear me, sergeant? I expect an answer."

"fuck... you..." Grahl spat.

"That..." said the Doc, smiling calmly, "was the wrong answer."

He cranked up the wand to 350 volts and touched it to the tender, pink sole of the elephant's foot. His body arched in pain and he made an animal wail as he dropped himself back on the table, disappointed in his own inability to resist.

"Now. Did you hear me, sergeant?"

Exhausted, low, panting, the elephant hissed "Yesss."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes... sir."

"A touch more enthusiasm?" He sparked the wand across the foot of the table.

"Sir, yes sir!" the elephant barked, on auto pilot. His will was faltering and he was falling back on his training. Off to the races.

"Very good." The Doc put the wand back on its hook.

"Even with your rather limited intellect, you probably suspected that there's more to the story than me killing you." He paused, waiting for the words to sink in. "That would have been incredibly easy to do long before now, had that been my plan. I don't intend to kill you. I intend to own you."

Grahl's eyes bulged and his breathing stuttered. The elephant was disoriented and sluggish now, and feelings of defeat were beginning to color his thinking.

"I'm going to give you the antidote to the poison in two forms. The yellow one one in your left hand will alleviate the pain and deliver a dose of the antidote, but it's mixed with an enzymatic cortisol compound that will... well, I'll spare you the technical explanation - but it will make you physically weaker and smaller." He paused "Do you understand me?"

"Sir, yes sir!" the elephant snarled. The words were strong and clear but there wasn't a note of respect in them.

The green one in your right hand will alleviate the pain and deliver a dose of the antidote as well. It will also make you stupid. Well, more stupid. In fact, it will eat away at just about any higher cognition until there's not a whole lot left... but the good news is that it will feel good. It'll feel very good, in fact.

The elephant was taking short breaths through clenched teeth now, almost sounding like he was on the verge of tears.

"I will also promise you this... if you use the green syringe, I will take care of you. Such good care of you... but if you use the yellow, you'll be on your own. Weak and small... in the army... at the mercy of all the people you've abused for years."

He let the rules sink in.

"Sir, yes sir." the elephant whispered through gritted teeth, unprompted.

"Good boy."

His defenses were crumbling. The doc loaded up the syringes and ran their taps to the tubes on each arm and placed them into the trembling hands of the elephant.

"I know you're scared... but I'm a doctor. You can trust me. This will all be over soon."

He smiled again as an acrid tang filled the air... Grahl had pissed himself, and it trickled quietly through the drainage slots in the table into the floor grate below. The doctor's heart raced now and his erection throbbed. Watching the elephant crumble was... powerful. His capitulation was beautiful... erotic. He could see the fingerprints he was leaving on the elephant's mind, and his clinical demeanor was slipping away almost as quickly as Grahl's resistance. Startled, he realized that his hand had been stroking his cock and quickly pulled it away.

He stepped back now and admired the prone elephant: his chest was rising and falling rapidly and he was covered in a sheen of sweat. His limp, uncut gray cock was draped over his massive balls as they glistened with the evidence of his fear. An idea struck the Doctor and he returned to the little fridge one more time, drew a pair of vials from the door, and filled a new syringe. In for a penny, in for a pound: the thick solution looked like corn syrup as he drew it with a large bore needle.

He took a squeeze bottle from the shelf and doused the elephant's thigh in alcohol to wash away the urine, then slammed the needle deep into the muscle there. The elephant grunted and his body tensed, but the manacles held his leg still enough for the Doc to deliver the needle's payload without bending it. Testosterone... a whole *lot* of testosterone, and a small measure of dimethyl sulfoxide. The Doctor smiled again... and pictured himself growing a pair of horns. The image made him laugh out loud. What good was a 'mad scientist' without a little evil laughter, right?

"I'm going to leave you now for a little while, sergeant. I can sense you need some rest, and you're so full of chemicals right now that I wouldn't want any... unforeseen interactions to spoil our fun... so I'll just turn out the lights and give you some time to reflect, and return when you're feeling a little better."

He picked up the small plastic remote from the shelf and pressed "play". Immediately, the wide-throw projector that he had used for so many boring presentations sprang to life - this time with an entirely more entertaining purpose. He flicked the lights off, and a huge spiral appeared to cover the entire ceiling of the small room, slowly turning. A low thump - felt before it was heard - started emanating from the speakers in the corners of the room, and over that slow, heavy techno beat came strains of Mozart. He appreciated the dichotomy of the music, but the combination of the overwhelming beat and the relaxing harmonics was perfect for his purposes. He touched Grahl's foot with a fingertip and the elephant flinched as though he had been bitten, gasping.

Very good.

Very very good.

While much of his plan had carefully evolved over years of consideration - random musings at first, then simple experiments, and finally hard research - he had to admit that he was proud of the last-minute improvisation of the testosterone. Grahl's behavior was pretty typical bully-blowhard shit, but the constant use of "faggot" and the sexual innuendo leading up their encounter had given away an important facet of Grahl's personality, and Doc could put it to excellent use. He had originally used the threat of sexual slavery simply as a means to shock and frighten his captive, but now he realized that Grahl was largely acting out to suppress his own nature... and nature was Doc's greatest ally in this experiment.

He went to his car and pulled out the suit bag that he usually reserved for nights when he was feeling particularly horny, and mentally chided himself for having too much fun.

He was standing in the small lavatory near his office, supporting himself on the sink when his watch beeped. Almost two hours had passed and the sun had long-since set. He stared at his reflection in the mirror and surveyed himself, and had to admit that he liked what he saw. He was fit - he knew it, but sometimes... just sometimes, he would catch his reflection in a mirror and get a momentary flash of his own good looks. This was one of those times. He was wearing the leather harness and jock that he had originally purchased on a lark, and truthfully had only worn twice in the year since he bought them. Over this he had pulled a lab coat, but he had ripped off the sleeves to show off his round, thick shoulders. On a whim, he had cut the rank insignia bars of his self-imposed station into the fur of his arm. Sergeant Major... the star now replaced with a neat spiral. He smiled to himself and shook his head... the trappings of his own special rank were taking form.

He took a deep breath and set his jaw. Point of no return. Concrete plans had now unexpectedly mingled with sexual fantasies. He realized now that he was remaking himself as much as he was remaking Grahl. Well, no... not quite that much. He smirked and headed downstairs.

As the elevator slid downward, Doc could hear the pounding noise coming from the small room at the end of the hall. The audio component of the show would have gradually ramped up from relaxing to overwhelming, and he flinched as he considered Grahl's big, sensitive ears. He could feel the thud of the bass line as he unlocked the door, and as he slowly opened it he felt a surge of power and satisfaction. Grahl's powerful body was completely limp now, save for the massive erection pointing upward toward his belly. His muscles were slack, his jaw was slightly open, his tongue lolled... his eyes locked on the flashing colors and turning spiral that completely filled his field of view.

Doc's heart thudded in his chest and his own cock sprang to life, stretching the jock impressively. He took a deep breath and stepped into the room, locking the door again behind him. Hearing his own voice droning behind the music was a surreal experience as he fished the small remote from his pocket. "Obey and relax... relax and submit... submit and obey..." - for two hours the elephant's drug-addled brain had been hammered with similar mantras designed to confuse him and... not just weaken his will, but to make him forget that he even had one.

He advanced the video to the next track, and the sound and lights started returning to tolerable volumes. The colors faded away and all that remained was a clean black spiral turning on the ceiling. Doc flicked on the lights but Grahl did not respond - he just continued staring at the ceiling, his breathing slow and steady save for random gasps and ragged shudders.

"Hello, sergeant."

Grahl's breathing stuttered.

"I said hello, sergeant."

Grahl's face twisted as he struggled to find a response in the bowl of testosterone porridge that currently passed for his brain... "Hh... hello. Sssir?" he slurred.

The doc stepped forward and gently stroked a fingertip up the elephant's dripping cock. Grahl gasped. "That's right, sergeant. Very good. You will refer to me as sir. When I ask you a question, you will respond only with answers that respect my superior rank. Is that clear, sergeant?"

Grahl's eyes darted as though he were looking for the answer to be printed on a wall somewhere. "Sir. Yesss sir..." he struggled - but the will was there. The wolverine smiled and showed teeth.

"Very good. Very good sergeant. You are a very obedient soldier, and obedient soldiers are rewarded for their service."

Doc gently cupped the elephant's massive balls and squeezed the base of his cock, stroking slowly. Grahl moaned, an animal sound that came from deep in his gut and ended in a defeated whimper that sputtered out of his trunk.

"Very good. Obedient soldier. Loyal sergeant."

Grahl's breathing was still rapid, but it had resumed a more even tempo now. Panic was being replaced by focus as he struggled to keep his attention on Doc's words.

"What are you, Sergeant?"

"I'm..." he stammered, struggling. "No... not your..."

The Doc smiled. He had almost thought that the first two tiers of conditioning had done the trick... but Grahl was made of iron.

Good... he had packed tools to bend iron.

"I see, I see - you're confused about priorities. We'll take care of that for you now, sergeant."

"nnno..." the elephant whispered, his pupils contracting to pinpoints.

"No no, I see that it's necessary - I understand now that anything less would be an insult. You're beautiful and powerful, and I don't object to putting a little effort into making you mine. To tell the truth, I'm enjoying this, Grahl."

He groaned again, eyes drifting - unfocused - and settling back on the wolverine. His brows furrowed, and a moment of recognition flashed across his face. He saw now the Doctor's appearance... and the bars of rank. The Doc noticed Grahl's cock jump again, and not surprisingly, so did his own.

He returned to the the elephant's side and placed the tethered syringes back into his large, slack hands.

"Remember the game, Sergeant? Well now it's time to play. The left hand is your body, sergeant - your big, powerful body that you've worked so hard for so long to create. The thing that gets you so much respect. Push that plunger and your body goes away. All that work... all that power... such a shame. Remember, left hand - body. Say it now, sergeant!"

"ll.. left hand... bbody." he stammered, sounding like he was on the verge of tears.

"Very good, sergeant. I know you're not too smart, so I'm very proud of you for remembering."

He walked to the other side now and placed the green syringe in Grahl's other thick, three-fingered hand.

"The right hand is your mind, sergeant. You don't really use it that much, do you? Just obeying orders with that big, powerful body. Using your mind only gets you into trouble... look at where you are now. You tried to be clever, and it just didn't work out. No, Grahl... your mind is definitely not your best attribute. I know which choice I would make if I were you."

"What's your right hand, Sergeant?"

"mmm... mind."

"Very good, sergeant. You're very good at obeying. Repeat that."

"Very... good... obeying."

"VERY good, sergeant."

He reached out and stroked the elephant's aching member again, eliciting another ragged gasp.

Doc steeled himself... he knew what this next part felt like. Even though the chemicals themselves did no damage - caused no lasting harm, they felt like liquid fire in the veins. A slow, crawling burn that spread like molten metal as the injection spread through the circulatory system - and it would last for easily ten to fifteen minutes. While it was possible that the big marine could hold out for that long, it wasn't likely. Doc's own accidental exposure while testing the compound as a treatment for joint pain had lasted nearly fifteen minutes, and his blood ran cold at the memory. For just a moment he had even considered killing himself before the blinding pain began to abate and he had realized that his torment would end of its own accord.

He drew the amber syringe from the pocket of his lab coat.

"Time to choose, sergeant. Body or mind."

He hoped the elephant wouldn't call his bluff... the yellow syringe only contained a stronger dose of the baclofen and a hit of morphine to balance the load. There was no magic compound to make him weaker and steal his muscles... or at least not in a single injection.

But he knew Grahl. Knew his type. Knew that his entire sense of self-worth and confidence came from his ability to intimidate others and throw his weight around. He knew which syringe the big elephant would choose.

He pressed the plunger and the stream of amber snaked its way through the curling, clear tube and into the Grahl's arm.

The reaction was almost immediate... his breathing became fast and shallow and he began to squirm on the table as the drug crept into his system. The muscles of his arm began to tense and he writhed, grunting and huffing... then his feet began to slide involuntarily as he tried to crawl away from the pain. Doc glanced at his watch... 30 seconds.

Grahl began to make noise now - small grunts with each exhale as the burning continued to spread through his system. He arched his back and pulled at his restraints, now turning his head left and right.

"Remember, sergeant. You can stop it whenever you want. You just need to choose."

"Ahhh! AHHH!"

The elephant was pulling at his restraints and rolling now, his eyes wide and wild as they scanned the room. The burning coming from inside his body was inescapable and it would be reaching its full efficacy about now... 1:40.

"Sergeant, it hurts me to see you this way. Such a powerful creature in so much pain. Remember, left hand body... right hand... mind." as he the final word left his mouth, he stroked up the elephant's cock again. Grahl hissed through gritted teeth as he sucked in air, the pleasure barely registering through the intense pain.

"nnn... noo... ahhh! Hurtss..."

"That's right sergeant, it hurts. But I gave you the solution. I'm your sergeant major and I would never send you into battle without a weapon. And you've got one in each hand, Grahl."

3:20

The elephant lifted his head and banged it on the table now, a strangled scream in his throat. To his credit, he still managed to sound tough even when he was shrieking in agony.

"Good soldier. Very good solider. So strong - so brave. Keep fighting, soldier!"

Grahl's face twisted in confusion as he continued to steep in the inescapable burning that consumed him. Keep fighting?

"Good soldiers fight. Good soldiers do as they're told. You're a good soldier, sergeant. You make me proud!" Doc shouted. "You like to make me proud, don't you?"

Grahl's eyes rolled back now, the whites glistening in the harsh light.

"So proud of you! Waiting to use your weapon until the perfect moment. So obedient - so powerful - such a good soldier."

Confusion and pain mingled in his mind now. There was little room left for conscious thought, and what there was seemed to be filled by the voice of the wolverine.

6:00. The Doc was impressed.

Grahl now howled in a steady rhythm... inhale... "ahhh!" inhale... "ahhh!" inhale... "ahhh!" - every breath's purpose to fuel another expression of his agony.

"You're making me proud, soldier." doc whispered "So very proud. I can see that soon you'll use your weapon and win this battle for me, your Sergeant major." As doc leaned in, he could smell the elephant's pungent, heady musk. What a beautiful creature.

The elephant mewled through gritted teeth, his gaze drifting to the syringe in his right hand. "Very good, soldier! Use your weapon at the perfect moment, and when you do, you'll be the best solider - the best soldier ever. My perfect, obedient soldier. Won't that be everything you ever wanted? So proud. So powerful."

He grabbed Grahl's cock and pumped it vigorously several times. The elephant actually trumpeted now. Doc nearly came.

Tears streamed down Grahl's face as he stared at the syringe in his right hand. He didn't even look at the yellow one as it lay forgotten on the table. He couldn't be a good soldier without his big, powerful body. He wasn't putting the thought together with anywhere near that level of coherence, but he felt it in his gut.

He lifted a hand, spasming and shaking as he whimpered. He looked past his fist into Doc's eyes for just a moment and then he squeezed the plunger.

Doc winced at the speed of the injection as the elephant mashed the entire large dose into his vein in a fraction of a second, grunting and banging his head against the table as he did so.

9:00

A beat... then another... then the drug began to take effect. A dizzying cocktail of counteragent to the first injection, hypnotics, euphorics, and a few choice opiates thrown in for good measure.

"Good soldier! Very good solider! You are a credit to the corps, sergeant!"

Relief washed over Grahl in a wave as he felt an almost minty chill overtake the searing agony that had consumed him seconds before... and beneath that icy relief was something else. In a brief moment of clarity, he remembered what the Doctor had told him: his mind was going away.. going away... and in that second, he made it so. The doctor's words echoed in his brain now. "Good soldier... good obedient soldier... so perfect... so perfect to follow my orders... only my orders..."

A slow, easy smile crept across Grahls face as his breathing slowed. Like a sip of water after an eternity in the desert, the absence of pain was utter bliss. His eyes widened and unfocused until only the afterimage of the spiral on the ceiling even registered. His jaw loosened and relaxed. Good soldier. He was a good soldier. He was a good, obedient soldier.

Doc watched now as the hours of programming did their job. Short term memory, reinforced by the drugs and adrenaline, became Grahl's entire existence. He would no longer have access to any part of himself beyond conditioning and instinct if everything went according to plan - and it appeared to be doing just that.

"Very good, solider. Very good." he stroked Grahl's cock and the elephant moaned and chuckled in a dopey bliss.

"ggood... ssooldier"

"I'm going to get you on your feet now, soldier. You won the battle, and it's time for your reward."

"rrrreward"

Doc smiled.

He circled around the table and unlatched the manacles at both ends. Grahl did not move, his arms and legs dangling loosely.

"Ten... HUT!"

Instantly, Grahl's face straightened as he leapt to follow the familiar command. He lurched and stumbled, his head swinging wildly like a wrecking ball - but he managed to get to his feet at the end of the table and struggled to come to attention.

Grahl stood, swaying... his eyes blank, looking through the wolverine at some point in the distance. "Very good, soldier!" the same dull smile crept back to the corner's of the elephant's mouth now. He was a very good soldier.

"I'm very proud of you, soldier. You deserve this honor - can you feel it?"

The elephant's mouth split into a huge, dopey grin.

"That's right - obedience feels good. Obeying me feels good. You feel good because I am your master."

"Master" Grahl grunted, a hint of his military bearing now edging the words.

"Very good, sergeant. You've worked very hard and now it's time for your reward. You feel good now. Very very good... but you'll feel a hundred times better when I make you my personal guard. You want that don't you?"

The elephant's eyes scanned the room and he nodded, confused. Of course he wanted it... elite... honor... special... duty... pleasure...

"sir yes sir! it would be an honor sir!"

"Very good. Very very good, sergeant. I'm going to give you a promotion now. You will be my... staff sergeant." The doc smiled inwardly at the double entendre. "How does that sound, sergeant?"

"Very good sir!"

"We're going to give you a special rank insignia though - this is a secret duty and the rank will be known only to me. Nobody else will know about it. Is that clear, sergeant?"

"Sir yes sir! Nobody but you sir!"

The wolverine drew a dermal punch out of his pocket, followed by a large gold ring and walked up to the elephant. Standing at attention, his body was even more magnificent. The doc closed his eyes and took a deep breath, regaining his composure.

"This will not hurt. Your rank will be known only to me but your service will be permanent, is that clear?"

"Sir yes sir!"

He grabbed the elephant's cock and tugged it downward, away from his belly and slipped the dermal punch into the slit. He angled it down carefully and pushed. Not even a twitch from the big marine... excellent. He slid the gold ring through the new hole and admired his work. He allowed himself a moment of pride as he looked at his creation.

"Now for your reward, sergeant. I can tell that you're enjoying this because your dick tells me so. You're hard for me, aren't you sergeant?"

He looked momentarily confused.

"Your cock is hard and I'm the only one here so you must be hard for me, isn't that right, staff sergeant?" he placed a lingering emphasis on the final words.

A light switch clicked somewhere.

"Sir yes sir! My cock is hard for you, sir!"

"Very good. Since your body belongs to me now, I'm the only one who can make you cum... isn't that correct?"

"Sir yes sir!" the elephant barked on autopilot, the words instantly becoming his reality.

"Very good. I want you to jerk your cock for me, staff sergeant - and I want you to show me how powerful you are. You're beautiful and I want to see my creation, is that clear?"

"Sir yes sir!" he regained a small amount of focus and looked down at his leaking member as though he just remembered that he had a cock. He grasped it clumsily in his hand and began to stroke it rhythmically. Almost immediately his expression slackened and a dumb, blissful softness overtook his eyes and mouth.

"Very good, staff sergeant. Your orgasm will be the best thing you have ever felt, because I am the best commander you have ever had. My orders are your thoughts. Your actions are my will. By following my orders, you please me, and when you please me you will be rewarded. Obey."

"Sir yes sir!" He jerked more vigorously now, an almost pained determination on his face as his breath began to come in ragged gasps.

The Doctor also joined the performance. He circled Grahl, stroking his huge body and enjoying the firm contours of his muscles as they pulsed and spasmed in time with his masturbation.

His own cock ached for release and he finally decided it was time.

"When I command it, soldier, you will achieve orgasm - and not before! You will ejaculate harder and longer than you have ever done in your entire life. Is that clear, soldier?"

"Ssssir yes sir..." he stuttered, words disrupted by the vigor of his movements.

"On Three, soldier."

"One... you are obedient and perfect, perfect and obedient!"

Grahl's breathing was fast and ragged.

"Two... a good soldier obeys his commander's orders. You are a good soldier. A very good soldier."

The elephant's eyes rolled back in his head.

"Three... your rank is permanent! Staff sergeant Grahl, who owns you?"

"You own me sir!" the elephant howled as his knees buckled and his massive cock began to spasm. In tandem, the Doctor began to shoot his load, spattering the elephant's chest with his seed. Where the wolverine shot, the elephant gushed - like someone pumping a great deep well of semen, pulse after pulse of thick liquid poured out of Grahl and pooled on the floor below him.

"Ssso... so good sir... so good..."

The doc didn't see anything but the whites of Grahl's eyes for several minutes and finally the orgasm subsided. A river of jism oozed along the floor and snaked lazily toward the floor drain, and the elephant's empty stare and mindless grin had returned.

"Ten-hut!"

Grahl stood.

"At ease, staff soldier."

The elephant relaxed slightly, his face expressionless.

The doctor smiled his wolverine smile and admired his first toy. There were worse things, he supposed, than figuring out how to get a naked, musclebound elephant slave back to his house.