puppygirlsnplaythings:A piece of paper. That’s what she’d been reduced to.The real her,
puppygirlsnplaythings:A piece of paper. That’s what she’d been reduced to.The real her, anyway. The her that mattered. A woman with friends. A career. A boyfriend; a home; a car. A life. She’d had it all.Then the Leash Laws came. They seemed to pass overnight. A little discussion, some vague rumblings in the media, and then…the man in the floppy hat, explaining that Michigan had joined the Hundehersteller Coalition for a Better America. Like a lot of women, she’d scoffed at G.O.O.D. D.O.G.S. and the rest of the ridiculous laws. Who, after all, would enforce them? But then the police cars started appearing. The ones marked with “Acquisition Squad,” and “K-9 Unit” in addition to “To Acquire and Subjugate.” Women started…changing. Disappearing. Some reappeared, enhanced in body and empty in the head. New stores kept cropping up in Steelburg and Williamsgate, with names like “La Chienne Obeissante” and “Perritas” and “Witching Hour.” But still, she’d brushed it all off as more of the same. More men being ridiculous, more companies playing the game. Sure, a few of her friends seemed…different, and Miranda had vanished, but that was just a coincidence. It had to be. She dropped off her cousin Kathy at the airport when she realized something was truly up. “Jen, promise me you’ll get out of here,” Kathy had begged as they stood at the gate. “I know you’ve seen the news reports from Ohio and Kentucky. I know you saw what happens when Hundehersteller and his company really settle in.”“I’m so tired of the media trying to control us,” Jen had replied, looking at her cousin sympathetically. “It’s just bullshit, Kat. I told you, I’m gonna go to that She-Wolf meeting. Go on, enjoy your trip to Mexico. I’ll be here when you get back.”“Not so loud!” hissed Kathy, looking around nervously. “I mean it, Jen. Come join me as soon as you can.”That was the last she’d seen of her cousin.On her way home, Jen was pulled over by one of the green-and-black cars that seemed to be everywhere in Steelburg these days. She had her license out and her window down when the man in the uniform walked up beside her. “Afternoon, officer, what can I…?” she managed, before blue lightning forked from the strange gun in his hand. She’d awoken…here. Wherever “here” was. They’d injected something into her; her limbs felt strange, distant, and the collar around her neck stabbed something hot into her veins whenever she tried to speak. Eventually, she’d stopped trying; her captors ignored her, at any rate, and it was becoming harder and harder to focus her mind. It was as if they’d taken everything inside her head and transferred it to that piece of paper; sometimes, it almost felt as though she’d vanish if it did.She slept. She ate. She endured a few brusque instructions from a man in a veterinarian’s coat. She gasped and squirmed as she was probed, cleaned, injected, tagged, studied. She awoke to find other women in the cages around her, similarly tagged, collared, and sleeved. One by one, they changed as well. Their expressions softened as their bodies warped, and soon barks and growls and whines replaced their efforts at speech. Jen found herself joining in, her tongue slipping from her mouth to hang, panting, unless she made a mental effort to stop it.And all the while, the paper hung in front of her cage, mocking her.Two weeks into her captivity, Jen heard footsteps approaching. She looked out, apprehensive. The man in the dark suit was imposing. “And you’re quite sure she’s still in Beta?” he said, gesturing dismissively toward Jen’s cage. “Absolutely, sir. As you requested. The animals will eventually collapse into Alpha over long-term conversion—it’s just their nature, especially since they’re genetically predisposed to please, and embracing their role pleases their Owners—but with regular care and occasional nanite updates, you can keep the bitch’s mind intact for, say, five years?” “Interesting. I don’t think that’ll be required, but it is nice to know. For…future reference.” Jen blinked, her weary mind trying to make sense of what the men were saying. Were they…were they talking about her? But she wasn’t like those other women! She was a human! She…well, sure, the Living Latex paws and huge tits and wagging Living Latex tail might make it seem otherwise, but she was a WOMAN, damn it! She didn’t have any of those silly nanite tattoos, or a wet, dark nose yet. She could still escape!She just had to break free, somehow.“…and, naturally, you’ll want to keep the code phrase handy.”“Naturally.” The men stopped in front of Jen’s cage. “Well, hello there, my little bitch. I don’t have a Raven Cauc yet, but I think you’ll do nicely.”Jen growled, furious that her powers of speech seemed to have faded completely.“Shh, none of that, now. I had planned to keep you in Beta for a few months, but I think for the ride home, we’ll make it easy. What do you say?”Jen barked, pawing at the bars of her cage, her bimbofied body jiggling despite her anger. The man just laughed. “That’s what I thought. Let’s give this a go, then.” He smiled, and said…something.The world went black, and the last thing Jen heard was her own confused whimper as she collapsed to the floor of her cage.***********************************************Juggz blinked. A Man (THE OWNER…GOOD DOGS LOVE THE OWNER) was standing over her. “ARF! ARF! ARF!” she cried, tail wagging. “….good dog…Juggz…go…home?” said the Man, smiling. He looked at the other Man and made more people noises, but they meant nothing to Juggz. She pawed eagerly at the cage door, the Living Latex squeaking as she drooled and wriggled in excitement. “…dumb…excited…bitch…she?” said the Man. Juggz wagged her tail happily as the Man opened the gate and attached a leash to her collar. A white shape fell off the cage and onto the floor. A wo…wom…cunt (BAD DOG ALL DOGS MUST BE LEASHED BE A GOOD DOG) was staring out at her from the photo, vaguely familiar. She gave the page a cursory sniff, but it wasn’t a toy or something The Man wanted, so she walked over it, leaving a drool-soaked pawprint on the tiny image of the flat-chested cunt. By the time she reached The Man’s car and was in her cage for the ride home, she’d forgotten the paper had ever existed. -- source link