Wolf Girl

Each morning your outfit is chosen for you. Picked not for your taste, or the style you thought was yours, but because I want to show off specific features. Chosen because I want to show off the lines and curves of your body. Chosen because that’s how I want to advertise you to everyone that might see you through the day.

Your coat and nails will be handled by a professional. They’ll wash you, touching you everywhere you once thought was personal and private. You’ll be spoken over as it’s decided for you what style, what cut, what shade will be the best to frame your face. More importantly, they have to consider what’s in season. Your look will be kept current, clean, and pristine. If you give them trouble you’ll be put in a slip lead, tied off by the collar to the table and kept still by hands used to dealing with nippy dogs. Too much trouble and they’ll muzzle you before continuing. 

If you embarrass me I’ll drop you off drugged to your next appointment.

We’ll spend hours training the way you walk. With a collar around your throat and a taut leash you’ll learn to keep perfect step at my side. You’ll learn to turn and halt with the smallest adjustment, the smallest tug of your leash. You’ll learn to keep your steps even, regardless of the pace or what I might have dressed you in. You’ll be expected to show this same level of respect, obedience, and focus to anyone I hand your leash to. If I decide I want to see you paraded around the ring by someone you’ve never met, you’ll be expected to follow. Match their pace without ever looking back or pulling. Show me I can trust your training even away from me, that you’ll work to present and behave in the manner I’ve come to expect from you regardless of distance.

You’ll be expected to hold perfectly still as strangers examine your body under glaring lights. They’ll touch along your back, down your tummy, and between your legs. You’ll be overwhelmed with the simple joy a dog has when it knows it’s doing something right. Just hold still. Let them do as they need to. Just hold still and behave.

You’ll see yourself on the TV when I invite our friends over to watch your latest performance.

“Look at that strut”

“Such a beautiful coat!”

“The judge’s hands must have been cold, look at the goosebumps!”

I’ll call you over, the star of the hour. I’ll show them all the tricks I’ve taught you, all the work I’ve put into your socialization. 

The same way the judge’s hands roamed and explored your body, our friends will do the same. They’ll comment loudly over the way your skin twitches and muscles dance. They’ll giggle to each other as they see how excited you get at the idea of performing once more. 

You’ll never hesitate to follow along with their poking and prodding. You’ll never consider what these people used to be to you, or the social bonds you once had. You’ll never consider who or what you once were. 

"I bought a 10 inch dildo last night just for this"

"How high do you think we can crank the voltage on this before she gives out?"

"You know she probably wont even talk for weeks after this right"?

bush under here

The slime girl teased pulling at one of the wires.

“No wait-!”

The robot girl panics, feeling the slime girl inside her pull at her speech module but it’s too late. A jolt rushes through her as the cord is disconnected and all the girl can do feel the dread of moving her hinged jaw silently.

“That’s better, good girls stay silent while I’m playing with them.~”

Her ooze is squeezed so tightly into her chassis, she can feel all of her circuits being pressed into. The weight feels heavy but after so many maintenance cycles with her, the slime girl’s embrace almost feels… intimate.

A jerk from one of her arms, and a silent gasp to follow from the robot girl gives a giggle from the ooze.

“There’s the motor control, you are just so easy to pick apart, you efficient little thing.~”

Through the fear, her faceplate blushes, and she becomes even more terrified, wondering whether it was her or her mechanic that had done it. She can feel the slime start to wrap around her cpu core, and her fans kick up another notch as the already flustered girl’s thoughts race between fear and fantasy.

“Hmm, i think we might have to go do a field test on these parts. You don’t mind a quick walk to the bar right? i’ll need other baseline robot girls to compare to…~”

The machine girl simply opened a soundless jaw hinge, and almost blue screened at the thought.

“I need to be inside you, I don’t care,” her slime was barely able to get out the words as you heard the feral desperation in her voice. It was like your slime girlfriend had become a monster and was just barely holding herself back from ripping into you.

Tentacles had already started to form along her body and latch onto your limbs but she still locked eyes with you, waiting for you to give the green light. All you could manage as the situation became more and more real was a shaky “Please.”

Within seconds, she had descended into a feral monster slime, using appendages to hold you down so tight you couldn’t move an inch. Her hands, or the parts that used to be, began tearing away your clothes. Your breasts being pulled out from underneath the mess of a ripped outfit became toys to the slime girl.

The sensation of so many hands and limbs touching you, playing with you, reducing you to a simple item of pleasure to her. It felt exhilarating. You could feel her entire preseance over you. The tentacle that snaked its way between your legs could barely be registered, until it slipped into you.

You let out a gasp that was instantly covered by what was left of your slime girlfriend’s head pressing into yours. Her slime kissing you over and over, cramming a faux tongue into your mouth. The slime below snaked deeper inside you and your whimpers and gasps as you became filled were drowned out by the ooze.