“This is absolutely ridiculous, they can’t treat me like this…” Darryl thought to himself as he was being escorted to his “living quarters” by two beefy security guards. Sure, he probably would have been able to beat the nerdy labrador in a fight, but these two huge, uniformed dudes seemed to pop out of nowhere to restrain him as soon as he was about to jump and rearrange his manager’s face.

They were wearing company uniforms, but quite different ones from the generic white coat that the weasel was used to seeing around. These two men wore a skintight black catsuit sort of thing that highlighted their muscles very well, making their every outline shine with a plasticky hue. The only things that were left to the imagination by the revealing suit were the guards’ chests and abs, as they were covered by what looked like a thick bulletproof apron, with black tubes coming out from each side that connected to their masks.

Darryl assumed them to be dobermans judging by the pointy shape of their heads and their large, perky ears, coupled with their canine groans underneath the faceless masks that made it impossible to really tell what species they were. They could have been just robots for all the weasel knew, the shiny, reflective visor in the front of their triangle-shaped helmets showed no sign of a soul at all.

They felt strange to the touch; the smooth rubber that coated their hands felt a little slimy on his fur, but their grip was way too strong to slip out of them. They held their captive tight in between them as they marched towards the housing facility at such a pace, that the tiny weasel guy could barely keep up with his legs that were only about half the size of the towering guards. At first, it was impossible to tell where they were headed as they maneuvered through the endless forest of machinery, but soon enough, they reached a massive double door that opened automatically at their sight, allowing them to march right in.

The facility seemed much more like a prison now than a workplace, especially as the weasel was being dragged down a brightly lit hall of doors on each side, each placed suspiciously close together, with only small windows onto the corridor on them that were too high up for the short little creature to see through. He refused to say a word the entire time, walking quietly through the hall that was just wide enough to fit the three next to each other. His head was hanging down defeatedly, but his eyes kept spying the ceiling and the walls as he tried to find any way he could plan a possible escape. There seemed to be a few poorly secured vent lids here and there, and if he could somehow jump up there from one of those doorknobs…

At that moment, he had to pause scheming his plan, as the guards came to a sudden stop, almost causing their captive to trip over. The one on the right put his wrist to the door, and after a quiet beep, pushed down the door knob to open it up. They stood silently for a few seconds to let the weasel see inside his accommodation before pushing him in roughly and slamming the door behind his back.

Darryl wasn’t expecting much judging from the corridors of this so-called “living facility”, but the inside of his tiny little room still managed to disappoint him. There were no windows to be found on the white walls, and the only furniture inside were a closet, a sink, something that resembled a toilet, and a small bed- equipped with shiny bedsheets and PVC pillows, true to the company’s style. It was clear that this place wasn’t meant to be lived in; it was more like a sleeping pod, enough for an enslaved worker to retreat into after a hard day of work.

Feeling more and more desperate about his situation, Darryl opened up his closet to check if there was perhaps something interesting inside to pass the time with, but he had to be disappointed again: hanging on the clothing rack inside was only a transparent plastic onesie that looked an awful lot like some sort of company uniform, especially with the logo painted on the front, and “TESTING SUBJECT” written in bold, black letters on the back. The weasel clenched his teeth in anger at the sight, his hands curling into fists at the absolutely ridiculous situation he’d found himself in. What did they even mean by “testing subject?” Wasn’t he the one who was supposed to be testing the products? How was this all even legal?

Darryl finally couldn’t contain his anger any longer. He jumped into the closet and tore the uniform off the hanger trying to rip it with his hands and sinking his teeth into it, shaking his head like a mad dog. He fell onto the bed, kicking the blanket and the pillow off in his struggle, all the while he kept yelling and cursing out at the company for tricking him into becoming their prisoner. All because he didn’t listen carefully enough… All because he didn’t read the contract.

Someone must have heard the struggle, as footsteps could be heard only a few moments later approaching down the hall. Upon hearing them, the weasel threw his uniform down on the ground and jumped up from the bed, standing in front of the door to wait for whoever was about to come. His heart was pounding, his tiny claws extended, and his legs were ready to jump at just about anybody. The lock on the door was opened with a quiet click, and the knob was turned. Darryl inched a little closer and got himself ready to launch himself forward to claw his way to freedom… Right before the heavy door flung out and hit him in the face, pushing him into the closet on the side.

“W-what?” He gasped as he grabbed onto the handles of the closet to try and keep his composure, looking at the door with a foggy vision. He could have sworn it opened outwards! But regardless, he didn’t have much time to grieve his failed escape attempt, because he could hear the loud footsteps of what sounded like heavy boots entering into his room.

“Oh! I’m terribly sorry to bust in so violently, it’s a bad habit of mine… Is anyone in here?” A smooth, gentle male voice sounded from the other side of the door. Darryl, having gained back most of his sense of direction stumbled back to the bed to see who the man behind this silky, and surprisingly calm voice was.

“Ah, there you are!” A tall German shepherd stood in an intimidating, dominant pose on the doorstep. His arms were crossed in a way that clearly showed his curvy, strong biceps under his rough fur, and the rim of his hat was pulled down just enough to be able to see the shine of his eyes beneath it. His head was tilted slightly, looking at the weasel almost with a hint of sorryness.

The overall build of his body was similar to the guards that just dragged the weasel across the factory a few minutes prior, but he was obviously a different rank from them, judging by his uniform. It went well with the plasticky-rubbery theme of the rest of the factory uniforms. It almost seemed a little military-esque, thanks to the dark blue buttoned-up jacket he was wearing above the tight black latex top that only showed at certain parts in moderation: at the ends of his sleeves, and just above the uppermost button of his coat where the two halves split at the neck. The coat was complete with shiny, black shoulder pads that made him look even more imposing.

On his hands were a pair of dark gray gloves seemingly made of particularly shiny faux leather, and his pants were also made of a similar material. It was a skinny fit, but it didn’t completely cling onto every curve of the shepherd’s well-formed calves, though his impressive build could be seen even below it. He wore a clunky pair of rubber boots on his feet that reached well above his ankles, shiny black in color with no straps or strings to be found on its surface, only showing the logo of the factory printed in red at the front. He tapped his feet for a few seconds as he waited for the weasel to say something, but there came no reply to his greeting. The subject looked up and down the guard, scanning him with a piercing look in his eyes, before turning away with a quiet scoff.

“My name is K7.” The dog continued, undeterred by the unresponsiveness of the weasel. He took a deep breath and put down his arms to slide his hands into his jacket pockets before leaning against the wall with a relaxed pose. “Well, that’s the codename I’m supposed to use with the volunteers anyway. But my name is actually Kasper. How may I call you?”

“Am I not part of the database yet? I signed a paper with my name on it…” The weasel replied with an irritated grunt, before glancing back at the dog again. “I’m Darryl. And I wanna get out of here.”

“I suppose you probably didn’t read that paper very carefully then!” The canine let out a short giggle before tuning down his voice a little bit, almost to a whisper as he continued. “Well you know, you aren’t the only one in this situation. Oh no! The amount of people I’ve seen in your shoes… And you know, it breaks my heart.”

“What ya gonna do about it?” Darryl flashed his tiny, sharp teeth, feeling like he was being made fun of for making one wrong decision. Regardless of what stood in that contract, they shouldn’t possibly be allowed to keep him locked up like in a prison!

“Believe me, I’m here to help. I’m the head of the volunteer integration and support branch, and while I don’t have infinite power over the decisions, I assure you that I very much have influence in the upper management. Mind if I sit next to you?” The shepherd waited for the weasel to slide over on the bed and sat down next to him, the plastic bedsheets creaking loudly upon coming into contact with the faux leather.

Darryl could feel himself being lifted due to the weight difference as the heavy canine sat next to him, lifting up the other end of the mattress where he sat. The shepherd put his arm on the weasel’s shoulders comfortingly, and although such physical contact was quite unexpected, Darryl couldn’t help but feel just a little bit flustered from being held so tight by a strong, yet gentle man in a sexy, smooth uniform. He looked up into the officer’s eyes with a desperate and confused look, asking a thousand questions without saying a single word.

“I’m gonna try to put you onto projects that are already patented. Those are usually the tougher jobs, but you’ll be out much quicker, as those should enter production in a couple of days to a week. Now compare those to the prototypes that take years to develop… That’s where you would have been initially.” He explained, seeing a bit of relief in the subject’s eyes, though he still saw that he was not fully satisfied. “Look, I know that you’d much rather go home immediately, but I think this is the easiest path for everyone. Just try to behave, and we’ll send you off fast with some generous compensation, alright?”

Darryl tried to reciprocate Kasper’s friendly smile upon hearing the offer, even if he would much rather have cried. He nodded, then leaned into the little pet on the head he got before the shepherd took his arm off of him and stood back up from the bed.

“Now let’s get your uniform on you, what do you say?” He pointed to the wrinkled plastic onesie on the floor. “Can’t just roam around the factory without it. I see you’ve been working overtime and given it a bit of a quality check too, huh?”

“I have to wear it even in my room…?” The weasel asked uncomfortably as he picked the garment up from the floor and looked at it with disgust. He much preferred to be just in his natural fur coat whenever he could; he always regarded clothes as unnecessary flashiness, reserved for species that lacked their own fur to protect them from the cold.

“Oh come on, it’s just company policy! Do you know how hot and sweaty all this rubber and leather can get on me… I know your troubles all too well.” The dog gently took the uniform out of the weasel’s hands and evened out the wrinkles on it, then unbuttoned the front to help him get into it more easily. He spoke and acted almost like a parent, and even though Darryl hated being talked down upon, he felt strangely pacified by the gentle, humane treatment among all the monotone, soulless faces he encountered in the facility.

He grabbed onto the arm of the man for support as he stepped into the onesie which the shepherd held up for him for easy access, taking the opportunity to squeeze it and feel around it for a little bit. The plastic felt strange on his fur: it didn’t breathe at all, and most of his body heat and moisture were trapped inside. That, coupled with the crinkliness of the material and the fact that it constantly stuck to his damp fur, made it nothing short of a sensory nightmare to wear. Just when he thought that it couldn’t get worse, he slid his arms into their pockets and realized that the arms of the suit ended in gloves, so there wasn’t even any place for fresh air to get in besides the opening at the neck.

He grunted quietly with dissatisfaction as the shepherd got on his knees and leaned over the weasel’s shoulders to button the uniform up for him, their faces getting so close that they even touched for a moment. Darryl could feel the warm breath of the canine on his neck and felt the caring touch with each little unintentional- or intentional- stroke on his chest. The clothing procedure was finished with the plastic hood being pulled up on the weasel’s head, followed by another little pet of approval.

“There you go! Such a well-dressed, obedient little boy you are~” Kasper remarked as a bit of silly banter, but it made Darryl blush so hard that he had to turn away, pretending he was looking for a mirror to view himself in. He hadn’t even realized that he’d been blushing this whole time, but the little comment made him feel things that he wasn’t even sure how to deal with. “Now don’t worry about sweating in it too much, the uniforms are cleaned every week!”

“Every WEEK?” Darryl turned his head back abruptly, his face still bright red, but for an entirely different reason this time. He could imagine this terrible sauna suit getting just about unbearable after half a shift in the factory, but how was he supposed to survive a week in it? Especially if he even had to wear it in his room.

“Well how often do you get your laundry done for free at home~?” The German shepherd smiled knowingly, seeming a little upset about the situation himself. “What I’ve seen others do is they turned their uniforms inside out and let the sweat drip out if the pooling really got too bad. You’re allowed to take it off while you’re using the toilet, after all!”

“Very nice… Thanks for the advice…” Darryl sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me. This place really feels like a prison sometimes. I can’t believe there’s at least someone who can see me as a living creature out here.”

“No worries, sweetheart, trust me, I understand. I need to go now, but I’m sure we’ll see each other around.” Kasper extended his hand and let the tiny mammal grab onto it with his two little hands. “Be a good boy. You’ve got a couple of tough days coming up.”