ThatRedOni

Nonetheless, handler forces her in, shes a litle anxious just from being in new "clothes" new wires leading into the thickest part of each limb, and controls that felt impossibly weighty. She cant even pilot it on the first day, the Handler just forces her to start it up, absorb all the chemicals the old war machine demands you endure to operate it, like an ancient power that came with an impossible cost.

The hound wasnt particularly smart but fuck...she was being fried, her teeth gritted as drool leaked out, her entire body tensed as new drugs pumped in on top of her old ones flowed in, making her quads, calves, biceps, lats, abs all throb with her heartbeat....slowly swelling as each one forcibly took a cocktail of muscle enhancers and phisio-plasticity drugs to allow for such a violent transformation. After only an hour in the suit, once handler finally turned it back off, the hound was left head down, panting, and without even noticing, overstimulated to the point that her body ran through the stages of fear, fight, arousal, release, and exhaustion, her now more defined frame dripping with sweat as she tried to catch her breath.

"Wow you took to that well!~ don't worry, we only have 30 more sessions like this until you'll be ready to pilot it for real"

If she could think shed be worried, but the coming weeks were filled with the same pleasure torture, running the same cycle like a gym rat who's never quite satisfied, her brain being broken beyond normal for a hound, in a perpetual state of sloth as she tries to eat in the mess hall with a body that looks like its been sculpted by a Greek goddess, while also being so sore she cant lift a spoon. Even more apparent, after weeks, shes no longer a dainty, gaunt puppy. She's more akin to a pit bull, she's grown in height, her steps carry a weight *thump* walking across catwalks in the hanger that rival heavy weapon squads, her gait is widened and she looks capable of crushing someone with her bare hands.

Nonetheless, this giant hound still falls to her knees albeit with a weighty slam to worship her handler, who know has to brace when this tank of a dog ruts against her leg like a bear scratching its back on a tree, to the point that handler had to upgrade her collar and muzzle just to be able to shock her when words wouldnt get through.

At the end of the month, hound is finally ready, able to move the mechanical arms of the cockpit with her newfound mass that grew into her chair, hell she was basically a pilot in a new body, and as her mech turned on once more, she was finally able to stay conscious, an exhilarating, adrenaline, steroid infused mix of combat stims that finally let her fathom the weight of the fortress she headed.