Disclaimer – This story is a work of fiction. Still I feel it necessary to warn anyone reading this that this story contains themes of pet play, modification, and sex that, in addition to my poorly-constructed and repetitive prose, may be off-putting to some readers.
In addition to suggestions and questions, constructive criticism regarding how I may improve is appreciated and welcome. If all you have to offer is something along the lines of, “This sucks” or “I am offended even though you already warned me about the content” then I invite you to write your own masterpiece and present it to me so that I and the rest of the world may learn from your genius and your impeccable morality.
She used to be called Lori—Lori M. Donaldson. It was difficult for her to remember who and what she used to be. It wasn’t hard because she couldn’t remember—her memory was very good—it was hard because the smart honor student she had been had no resemblance to the meek, cringing little animal on the floor. Lori seemed more like a dream to Muffins than the girl she was prior to Brentwood, prior to Master—prior to being mated.
Lori was a college freshman with a full ride scholarship to an excellent university. While she’d only been at school for a short time, she already liked it for the most part. Though she hadn’t really carved out a social life yet, it was certainly better than high school! At least at college there weren’t a bunch of immature, country-fried assholes bullying her about being a geek, or being short, or “flat.”
It was Friday evening and the start of Lori’s second weekend at school. Like the previous weekend, she planned to enjoy a quiet night in her private dorm room—one of the perks of her scholarship. If she would have known that the walk across campus would be her last as a free woman, she would have savored it. As she entered her dorm she squeezed by a group of girls and guys on their way out for a night on the town. Lori felt a pang of jealousy. Though she’d never say it out loud, there was a moment that she would have swapped her straight A’s and her ugly but comfortable t-shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes for a short dress, high heels, big boobs and a bubble head! She quickly buried the thought and got on the elevator.
Once inside her room, she leaned against the door and breathed a sigh of relief. It had been a long day of classes and all she wanted to do was relax. She carefully unpacked her backpack, putting each item in its “designated space” and then hung the backpack on the wall by the door. Then she took off her shoes and set them between her desk trashcan and the door, making certain that the heels didn’t quite touch the wall. She wiggled her toes gratefully, then peeled off her smelly socks and tossed them into the hamper followed by her jeans and her t-shirt. Lori sighed gratefully as she unclipped her white, cotton, padded bra and tossed the confining “contraption” in after the rest of her clothes—freeing her small perky breasts. Finally, she hooked her thumbs into her white cotton briefs and pulled them down revealing her peach-like bottom and an untamed bush of black curls.
Lori looked at herself in the full length mirror and frowned. She thought about those girls again and wondered how she, a short, skinny, pasty, dork could ever compete with those tall, big-breasted skanks. She hefted her breasts up and wondered what they would look like if they were bigger. Then she ran her slender fingers through her coarse mess of pubic hair. Those girls probably shaved, she thought. Lori wondered if the guys really liked that. She bit her lower lip as she continued to stroke her hair.
Quickly, she grabbed a towel and draped it over the top of her bed before lying on top of it with her legs lewdly spread. Her fingers awkwardly searched through her personal forest until they brushed her swelling clit. Lori gasped and arched her hips as pleasure rushed through her body. A little moan escaped her lips. She imagined one of the guys from the group turning around and sweeping her off her feet, telling her how pretty and smart she was before he carried her into the dorm room to make love to her. She began to rub her fingers frantically across her swollen, pink lips as she imagined him laying her down and then getting on top of her. Lori furrowed her brow as she struggled to bring herself to orgasm, her clumsy fingers sliding across her slick opening. Finally, in frustration, she stopped.
She lay on her back panting, sweating and unsatisfied. Lori scolded herself. She’d never finished on her own, why did she think now would be any different? With a miserable sigh got up, discarded the towel and went to take a long, hot shower. When she returned to her room she made some tea and opened a book to read. She was only a few pages in when her eyes became very heavy.
***
Lori awoke with a start. She didn’t remember falling asleep. Why was her bed so cold and hard? She shifted and groaned as she sat up. Why was she on the floor? Her head spun and she tried to steady herself. She blinked a few times until her vision cleared. Lori was not in her bed—she was not in her room.
She was lying on smooth, stained concrete in a small, perhaps 5’ by 8’, cinderblock cell. There was a chain link door in one of the walls that she could see led to a gray, concrete hallway. In the middle of the floor there was a circular metal drain with an evil smell emanating from it. The whole room, in fact, smelled like the inside of an animal shelter—wet dog, harsh cleaning solution, with an sour undercurrent of concentrated urine. There were no windows, but the room was well lit from buzzing halogen bulbs from above.
Lori groaned again as she gingerly shifted to her knees. She gasped when she looked down and suddenly realized that she was stark naked! The shock cleared away the cobwebs and Lori realized how serious her situation was. She tried to stand, but the moment she rose above an unbalanced squat she got dizzy and fell over, yelping in surprise. Lori tried to stand again by steadying herself against the wall, but it was to no avail. She just couldn’t stand up without getting dizzy. Grinding her teeth in frustration, she supposed that it must have the drugs they used to knock her out. Hopefully they’d wear off soon.
What the drugs didn’t explain was why when she braced herself against the wall did her hands not want to work. Lori held her hands up in front of her face. She looked at them and willed them to move, but they just hung there—useless. She was already cold, but a chill ran through her.
“What did they do to me?” She wondered.
Shakily Lori crawled to the chain link gate and took a cautious look at the world beyond it. She appeared to be inside a kennel room like an animal shelter might have. Other than the sound of buzz of the lights and the faint sound of a distant air conditioner running, the room was silent. Lori looked up to see that the gate wasn’t even locked. It had a simple latch near the top.
She sat up on her knees and reached for the mechanism. Cursing her lack of height she stretched and stretched—using the gate as a brace as she grew more and more dizzy. Finally, her unresponsive hand touched the latch. She struggled to get her deadened fingers through the chain link to unhook the latch. She began to whimper in frustration. Why did this have to be so hard? She shrunk back down before launching herself back up with an irritated growl. Lori tried three more times, before she realized that with her hands like they were, she simply wasn’t going to be able to unlatch the gate.
Panting and sweating she returned to her hands and knees and tried to stave off tears as her helplessness started to sink in. She froze when she heard a metal door squeak open followed by the sounds of hard soled footwear against the concrete floor. A man in gray coveralls and a matching hat appeared in front of her. Lori backed into the cell and tried to cover herself.
“Good morning, pup!” He said cheerfully.