The Toy Part Two -- Stress Test
The Toy
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Part Two:Â Stress Test
by Doctor Mercurious
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The vixen awoke with a jerk. Bland gray light stabbed at her eyes and for one fleeting merciful moment she couldn't remember where se was. Then her hand brushed her sealed muzzle and it all came back to her; the kidnapping, her transformation into a silver fox, the theft of her name and the sealing of her mouth. She felt a powerful urge to claw at her jaw but managed to ball her hands into fists just in time. He â€" the platypus â€" said if she caused any more trouble he wouldn't be happy.
She didn't find out what else they could do to her.
The vixen stood and began to pace, eyes darting all around the twelve-by-twelve room. Again, she searched for any hint as to the identity of this place, but there wasn't even a power outlet. She was about to go on her hands and knees but she heard a faint click; some instinct made her rush to her futon and lie down on it. Just in time â€" the door to her cell opened, and the platypus walked in. She immediately lowered her gaze. No eye contact, she told herself. Let him think he's getting to you.
"I see you've decided to behave," he told her, in the tone of voice an owner would use to talk to his obedient pet. "Look at me."
The vixen raised her head. He had a wheeled, covered cart with him in addition to his little wireless keyboard. She tried not to perk noticeably. Food! Gods, she was so hungry! And thirsty, too.
"I'm going to give you your mouth back," the platypus told her. "Further insults will result in harsher punishment." He tapped a button on the keypad. Immediately, it felt like someone was trying to force the vixen's sealed jaws open with a crowbar. Her mouth exploded into reality, and she gave out an involuntary yelp pain -- and as tempted as she was to start swearing or cuss him out, she didn't.
The platypus looked almost disappointed as he uncovered the wheeled tray. "You will find that the more often you obey and the truer your obedience, the less like an animal you will be treated." He lifted a plate off the wheeled tray, revealing a plastic filled with steaming chunks of beef and vegetables in a brown sauce and a large bowl of water. He placed both on the floor. "One of the trainers from the new shift will be by soon. I remain in charge of you, however, so I'd better not hear any negative reports."
"No, sir," the vixen croaked. Her voice sounded rough and scratchy to her ears.
"Refer to trainers as ‘master' in the future," he replied, and left.
The vixen managed to wait until the door closed and fell to. She was so hungry she didn't care that the dishes looked like something a pet would eat out of; she picked out pieces of beef with her fingers picking up bits and shoveled them into her mouth between gulps of water. Before she knew it, she was licking the food bowl clean. She even licked her fingers. A though occurred to her; there was one thing she could do to escape, and that was gnaw her own wrists open. It was a fleeting thought, however; after all, dying really wasn't escaping, was it? Not if she wasn't alive to enjoy it, anyway.
The door opened abruptly without noise, and she froze in mid-lick. Steeping through was a bear wearing a muscle t-shirt, sweats, and sneakers. He looked pudgy, but the vixen knew Bears tended to keep a bit of their fat regardless of what physical shape they were in. He also carried a keyboard identical to what the platypus had. "So you're then new meat, eh?" he snorted. "Well you look pretty enough. Stand up."
She jumped to her feet. The bear circled her, eyes intent as they roved over her naked form. She resisted the urge to cover herself. "Not bad," he grudged. "Muscle tone's there, thin without being skinny..." He squeezed her right shoulder, felt her waist, her calves. "You kept in shape."
"Yes, Master," she agreed.
He moved in front of her. "I'm putting you on an exercise regimen to sculpt muscle tone and promote flexibility." He started typing away at the keys; the vixen felt her body stiffen and suddenly she couldn't control it at all. "Let's try this." He typed some more; she wished she could crane her neck to see. "Alright. Here we go then."
The vixen was about to ask where they were going, then the entire room blurred and suddenly she was in a room three times the size of her cell. Near one wall stood a rack with small barbells, an exercise mat and medicine ball against the other wall, a running machine along the third, and a personal home gym in the middle. She noted that the floor was covered in charcoal-gray material and the walls were mirrored. Unfortunately, all she could do was glance as once again as her body responded to that damned keyboard. A few keystrokes and she was mounting the equipment. She felt every heft, lift and stretch, but she couldn't stop herself from doing any of it as her treacherous body worked and worked hard.
Finally, the vixen's body stopped and she felt control return to her again. It was all she could do not to slump to the floor. The bear punched another key and the world blurred again â€" just like that, she was back in her cell She spied one of those wheeled carts with a small basin of steaming water, a washcloth, a folded towel and basic fur shampoo. "May I wash...Master?" Damnit, she almost forgot about that.
The bear didn't seem to notice. "Go right ahead." He didn't seem to be inclined to leave.
The vixen mentally gritted her teeth and soaked up the washcloth. The bear continued to watch as she wet her self down and soaped up. The soreness of her muscles made it difficult to clean under these conditions â€" what she wouldn't give for a tub â€" and it was inevitable that she would slip and fall. She came down hard on her leg and mewed in pain.
The bear snorted and punched some more buttons; her aching leg retracted into the hip leaving a smooth, rounded patch of flesh. She shrieked and clutched at it. "Shut up", he snapped. "It'll be gone for a few until it fixes itself."
"I'm sorry, Master," the vixen almost blubbered. Using that honorific was becoming easier every time she said it; she wasn't sure she liked that.
The bear squatted next to her, snatched the wet cloth away, and finished washing her off. She had to admit, he was a thorough professional â€" no cheap feels, no crude comments, nothing except efficiency. He put down the keyboard to do it, but the vixen didn't try anything. What could she do except get punished, anyways? A few minutes later her leg thrust out of its hip socket and it wasn't even sore. She ran her hands over it, marveling, as he stood up. "You're in better shape than you look," he grudged.
"Thank you, Master," she replied, keeping her head lowered.
He grunted. "You'll be taken to exercise three times a week." He folded the dirty washcloths and towels as he talked. "If you sprain anything, I or another trainer will have the limb retract until it heals."
The vixen wondered what would happen if she pulled her back out, but was afraid to ask. "I understand, Master."
The bear picked up his keyboard and pressed a button on it; a door appeared along one wall. "Good. Get some sleep; another trainer will be along at some point." He grinned wickedly. "And a fun time will be had by all."
The vixen dived for the futon even before the bear had a chance to leave. She told herself that it was only the cool dry air against her skin that made her shiver; unfortunately, she didn't believe it.