       The hood was security theater at best. Ruth told her the concept at some point, explaining that she used to be a smuggler. She didn’t say what, but Madison had a good guess given how the bear treated her. Security Theater, as Ruth explained, was meant to make people think they were safer than they actually were, while wasting everyone’s time in the process. Being the only stinkbadger in Highman Break, Madison could have been identified even without the hood. She knew it from people glancing back at her when walking around in public. 
       
       No one said anything, least of all Kiki who stopped going to school. Spike didn’t seem to be bothered, having started ‘dating’ Luke. Terry knew but didn’t press, and Heidi actively saw Madison in her hood on weekends for her domme training so she was used to it. The three girls who liked to hang out with them didn’t seem like the types to watch porn, being so focused on getting laid themselves that it hardly came up. 
       
       So when Isolde invited Madison to her house to discuss the next script, she considered wearing the hood until Ruth, strangely, said no. “I thought you wanted me to wear one in porn?”
       “On camera,” Ruth said. “So long as it’s on in the studio and on camera, I’m satisfied. Otherwise, it’s on when I say it’s on, and I don’t see why you need it to visit a friend.”
       
       “Co-star.” Madison didn’t know Isolde that well to be a friend. She was nice, if a bit odd. 
       
       Ruth rolled her eyes, “A co-star who invited you over to her house to read lines. I know you don’t have a normal childhood, but read the room.”
       
       “But she’ll see my face.”
       
       “Oh no,” Ruth said with feigned fear, “The terror. Should I start carrying you in a gym bag too? Keep people from noticing you? I just might right now if you don’t drop this and get in the car.”
       
       Ruth later tossed Madison in the backseat, tied and gagged like a damsel with her ass throbbing red. The windows were far too tinted for anyone to be alarmed on the drive over. Ruth could have made Madison eat her out in the passenger seat and no one would notice. She had, twice in fact. No one watched movies at the drive-in movie lot. 
       
       She’d calmed down by the time Ruth dropped her off. Isolde’s home was in the outskirts on the opposite side of Ruth’s, yet the house was nicer with two stories. An older porcupine woman, Isolde’s mom she guessed, let her inside and directed her to her daughter’s room where she heard laughter. Darcy shared a role in the script and had arrived earlier. Judging by the pages spread out on the bed, they hadn’t talked about it at all.
       
       “Hey, Lizzie,” Darcy grinned. “Fancy seeing you without your face.”
       
       Light flickered off of Isolde’s glasses. Madison thought she saw a blush behind them. “Oh, wow, you’re cute.”
       
       Her heart leapt. Her throat tightened. Was she blushing? Madison touched her cheekfur and realized that warmth wasn’t imaginary. “Thanks…you look better with the glasses.” 
       
       She had a boyfriend. She liked boys. Yet Isolde’s presence made her feel off.
       
       Comfortable in a discomforting way. The porcupine smiled with an innocence unbecoming of her. No one could be innocent after all the scenes they’d filmed. 
       
       Darcy had been working at the studio longer than them so she took charge of the script talk. “So we’re doing a classic babysitter scene. The twist is that ‘Lizzy’ won’t just be a little sister but the family bitch.”
       
       “How creative…” Madison rolled her eyes. She’d glanced once at the script and found she had no lines. She rarely did, and was supplemented with a gag so she couldn’t blurt anything out by accident. Instead she had stage directions, which mostly amounted to looking sexy, being fearful, and always subservient in some way. “We don’t look like we could be sisters.”
       
       “You sure?” Darcy said, “I mean, with that hood you can be mistaken for a badger. Izzy, what do you think?”
       
       Isolde cringed at her nickname. “I…well…” the porcupine twiddled her fingers, sheepishly looking away. “The scripts don’t really care about accuracy. Besides, she could be adopted?”
       
       The badger threw her head back. “Adopted to be the family bitch? Oh my gosh, that’s so cruel. Think I should use that as motivation for the scene? Script already says I should be bratty.” 
       
       Not that it mattered but playing an adopted sex pet would be no different from her current life. Well, apart from Ruth actually taking care of her in a weird way. Compared to the caretakers who just wanted government money or free labor, Ruth was the best parental figure she had. 
       
       Fuck, her life was a goddamn mess. 
       
       Isolde’s mother knocked at the door. The older porcupine walked with a bow like she was afraid of setting anyone off, especially her daughter from how she looked at her behind that anxious smile. “W-Would anyone like a snack? I can make cookies.”
       
       “That’d be great, mom.” Isolde didn’t seem to notice her mother’s discomfort, at least not until she left. Her smile dropped, the room felt colder, but no one drew attention to it, focusing instead on their lines. 
       
       “Do your spines hurt when they come out?” Darcy asked. 
       
       “Not really. I don’t try to take them out quickly because they can take a while to grow back. It’s like nails.”
       
       The badger grinned, eyeing Madison’s chest. “You know, we can get a little more sadistic in the scene if we remove your piercings.”
       
       “Do we? They’re so cute.” Isolde said. 
       
       “Just a thought.” Darcy’s phone buzzed. “Shit. Dad needs me. Can you both go over stuff more? I’ll catch up on the set.”
       
       Left alone with Isolde Madison felt a strange discomfort. It was almost like with Ruth where the bear could use her however she wanted. Discomfort may have been the wrong word for it, because while she knew she shouldn’t want it, something about being grabbed without warning made her weak in the knees. She’d never tell Ruth, and she wasn’t about to tell Isolde who didn’t notice. 
       
       “Does my mom seem weird?” She asked. 
       
       Madison blinked. “No? Why?” 
       
       Isolde curled up, her quills failing to pierce pillows with special fabrics designed for her. “She used to be very demanding. But ever since we moved here she’s been…meek. Like, she asks my opinion for almost everything instead of saying I need to do something. She used to say she was hard on me to get me into a good school, but now…now I think I did something wrong.”
       
       “What makes you say that?”
       
       “I yelled at her.”
       
       “I yell at my m…my mom all the time.”
       
       “I don’t. I hate raising my voice. But I yelled at my mom a few days after we moved here and she’s been scared of me ever since.”
       
       Madison didn’t have an answer for that. Ruth told her that people change in the town, for better or worse, and something was wrong with it given how casual everyone was about sex. But being scared of one’s own kid? Madison had nothing for it. 
       
       So instead she said nothing. After a moment Isolde asked about her piercings. “I didn’t choose them,” Madison said, “My mom made me get them.”
       
       “Even the ones down there?”
       
       “Especially those. Hate those.”
       
       “I think you look good with them. Especially since you’re into it.”
       
       Madison blinked. “I’m not into it.”
       
       “No?” Isolde crawled closer atop her bed. “You’re saying being made to do something you like doesn’t turn you on? I thought it was obvious?”
       
       “I…I don’t know what you mean.” 
       
       They were inches apart now. Isolde’s hand rested on Madison’s thigh. “Well, for starters I know you aren’t gay despite your contract stipulations and that talented tongue of yours. I can tell that wince of disgust you have behind the mask whenever they make you work as a heater. But you’re not gay for pay like Darcy. She can eat cunt enthusiastically as if she cares. You hold back the urge to bite back every time you do it, no matter how much people force you.”
       
       Her hand was underneath Madison’s shirt now, slowly pulling it up as she dragged paws over the stinkbadger’s chest. A finger curled around the thick nipple ring. “I-I have a boyfriend…”
       
       “With a cunt, I know. I wish he was here now to see how uncomfortable you look. Just thinking about it makes me excited, almost as much as I get from drinking in your expression now.” She pulled the ring, eliciting a suppressed squeal from the stinkbadger. “I know this feeling, this desire to hurt you, makes me a bad person. But it feels so good. It’s the same for you, isn’t it? You’re some kind of masochist.” 
       
       “I don’t like being hurt.” 
       
       Isolde’s smile mixed euphoria and sadism into some unholy concoction. “Do you think that’s the only kind of masochism?” She asked, close enough for her whisper to crawl around Madison’s neck like a tight collar. 
       
       “There are different kinds of pain. Physical, emotional, mental, and so on. And for every type of pain or discomfort, there’s a type of masochist for it. I figured yours out during our first shoot. On the surface you hate being forced to do something, but underneath you’re wet like a puddle. You crave something to resist against, even when you barely fight back. You think you’re a fighter, but you’re a punching bag.”
       
       The porcupine kissed her when she tried to speak up. Their tongues tangled. Madison tried, and failed, to overcome Isolde’s as she laid her claim. Only Terry had kissed her. Ruth used her mouth for pleasure or humiliation. This was both, a claim to possess her with nothing but a tongue. 
       
       “You’re cute when you’re flustered.” Isolde clasped Madison by the cheek. “I can’t tell which is better. The hood that makes you a toy, or your face twisted in unwanted desire.”
       
       The doorbell was both relief and disappointing. Isolde’s mother called for them, followed by Ruth to pick her up. She still waited for Isolde to get off despite knowing she could toss the porcupine away. The shy nerd returned, bashfully looking aside as she readjusted clothes ruffled in the tussle. 
       
       Ruth whistled when Madison came downstairs. She ignored the bear until they were in the car. “Good practice session?” Ruth asked, noting that Madison’s hair was messed up, her clothes raggled, and her face flushed.
       
       “Shut up and drive.”
       
       ***
       
       When the hood was on people saw her more like a prop than a star. Madison preferred this sometimes, not having the emotional bandwidth to do much but follow directions after several takes. On days where she was starring they treated her with a little more dignity, but more in the box of fragile china sort of way. 
       
       Despite being a porno studio they had set design capabilities like an old fashioned Hollywood movie. No CGI, instead having a team of carpenters and the like to make a realistic bedroom. The closet they pushed her in had a fake wall she entered from, where they boarded up after sticking her on the one-bar prison and bound her arms to keep her from struggling. Despite no longer serving clients in the Back-in-Gas, Ruth kept her throat trained for any of the thick and long dildos the studio wanted to use. The production assistant was kind enough to slip a massive cock gag down Madison’s throat at her pace.
       
       She’d watched the first scene play out already. Isolde needed a few takes from flubbing her lines. Turns out that outside of the sex scenes she struggled to put up a dominant front. Darcy played it perfectly, slipping into lines far better than any porn star could. Maybe she intended to be an actor later in life. How she’d make that jump from this was beyond Madison’s understanding. 
       
       Through the slits in the closet door Madison watched the next scene play out. Isolde had taken the initiative, dragging Darcy into the bedroom by her ear. “I don’t know how your mother puts up with you but I won’t take it,” the porcupine said, acting like there was a noticeable gap between her and Darcy’s age that anyone watching wouldn’t see. Darcy, for her part, played the part of a brat finally getting punished well. Lots of sniveling and pleading, cringing when things weren’t going her way. 
       
       Isolde sat on the bed and pulled Darcy over her lap. She undid the badger’s pants and pulled down her panties, giving the camera ample view of her rump. Her palm clapped the backside like thunder. Madison couldn’t tell if Darcy’s cry was pretend or real, though the tears from the following strikes answered that. Darcy was usually the dom in her scenes, so she’d never had to cry on command. 
       
       “I’m sorry!” Darcy squealed, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
       
       “I’m not even going hard,” Isolde said. Darcy’s red cheeks were evidence of the contrary, “How has a brat like you never been spanked.”
       
       “Mom punishes the gimp, not me.”
       
       Isolde’s brow rose. “The gimp?”
       
       Darcy nodded, rubbing tears from her eyes. “Y-Yeah. My sister used to be a big problem so my mom had enough and–”
       
       “I don’t need the backstory,” Isolde snapped, pushing Darcy off. “Just go get it.” Darcy nodded and tried to stand. A quick press of Isolde’s foot but a stop to that. “Did I say you could get up? No. Crawl, brat.”
       
       Head down, the badger made her way to the closet where Madison was propped up. Madison did her best to keep focus on Isolde when the camera panned to her. The porcupine smiled, ordering Darcy to bring the gimp closer. Isolde kicked her legs out when Madison arrived, taking notice of her piercing locked cunt. Ruth was adamant on keeping the piercings on. 
       
       Isolde whistled. “Not every family has a personal gimp to suffer for them. What makes you all so special?”
       
       Darcy rubbed her hands nervously. “Well, when my sister came back with bad grades she…”
       
       Isolde slapped her. Not hard, just hard for the camera. “Did I ask you a question? Or does a dumb brat like you not know what a rhetorical question is? Gimp,” she turned to Madison, “Do you know where any restraints are?” Madison nodded, having seen where they were set for the scene. But they were going off script now, especially when Isolde told her to get some. 
       
       Madison returned with cuffs, a collar, leather straps to tie down, and a heavy ballgag that she’d been sent to collect when the first one didn’t meet Isolde’s standards. From there Isolde bound Darcy into a cuffed hogtie, the thick gag keeping her silent. More than once Madison expected the director to call cut, hiding her fidgeting hands behind her back as if they were cuffed. 
       
       “I think your sister looks cute when bound, don’t you?” Isolde said to Madison, who nodded more out of panic of being off-script than anything else. The porcupine pulled her closer. Her tongue dragged along the gag and fingers gripped her nips by their thick rings, pulling and twisting just enough to make her wince. 
       
       Then she trailed down. Fingernails trailing deep enough to scratch her stomach until they reached her crotch. Madison hadn’t realized her moistness until Isolde touched her down there, nails trailing the wet juices dripping from the rings. 
       
       “Gosh, you’re so needy,” Isolde giggled, “Do they not play with you at all? Or do they just leave you unsatisfied? Bet it keeps you loyal. What better way to force compliance than to keep a subby bitch like you on edge?”
       
       She pinched the clit. Madison threw her head back. Her clit throbbed and ached, tantalized by the rubbing motion of Isolde’s soft finger. Ruth may have trained her ass, but denial only made her more sensitive to the touch between her legs. Madison normally wasn’t a sprayer, but something Isolde did had Darcy close her eyes enough after Isolde pulled the badger into the splash zone. 
       
       “Someone’s not very disciplined.” Isolde rubbed her juice drenched fingers over the nasal holes of Madison’s hood. The stinkbadger reeled but Isolde used it to her advantage. In seconds she locked Madison’s wrists to bedposts, forcing her to her back. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave your mother a note about it. For now, let me have my fun as payback.”
       
       Isolde plucked a thin quill from her head. She traced it over Madison’s stomach, carving loops and figure eights under the quivering chest. Ruth had upgraded her to rings thick enough to hold her in place and were impossible to hide under a shirt, something Terry appreciated. The porcupine did too judging from all the prodding she did, making Madison wince for the camera to catch every pained hushed breath. 
       
       “All with a purpose, but no style. No ownership,” Isolde muttered loud enough for the camera, “Where’s the fun in that?” She pressed down on Madison’s chest, right above where her flat breasts were, and pinched a finger full of flesh. The stinkbadger’s eyes widened when she saw the quill move closer. Gagged or no, she should have demanded they stop then and there. But something about the way Isolde looked at her, the hungry desire for pain and the sadistic glee of drinking in Madison’s own fear gave her pause. Even as the quill pierced her skin, even as Madison wailed in gagged pain, she did not push her off. She felt the quill with every breath when finished, its soreness falling by the wayside of the humiliation that Isolde marked her with something from herself. 
       
       Isolde didn’t take time to appreciate her work. Flush with need clear on her face, she freed Madison of her gag just so that the porcupine could sit on her face. Reflex propelled her tongue to please the girl despite her disgust of cunt. “I didn’t even ask. You mom must have trained you well, gimp.”
       
       She really had no idea.
       
       Isolde’s fingers liked to play with Madison’s cunt piercings. An odd finger there. A stray rub of her thumb. Never penetration, as much as Madison wished for something more than the tantalizing edge of someone touching her cunt. She’d never been allowed an orgasm from her cunt, and Madison figured somewhere in her contract forbade it. Isolde didn’t seem to care, or she knew and wanted to see just how far she could push it. A small part of her hoped she wouldn’t go beyond it, willing to suffer Ruth’s punishment later. 
       
       “You know, I think your mom had the right idea with this one.” Isolde pulled herself off of Madison’s face just enough to let her breathe. Darcy, who’d been stuck watching the entire time and wriggling in her hogtie with the most mouthful moans only an actress could perform, looked confused when the porcupine lifted herself entirely off the bed. Madison didn’t need to look to know the rest of the cast and crew were looking on in confusion. The director must have really trusted Isolde. 
       
       “Shame she raised a brat like you. How can she discipline you if all her focus is spent on tormenting the house toy? Well, I think I have a solution for that.”
       
       From a nearby desk she pulled out a pen and paper. Then, after taking a detour back to the closet, she pulled out another gimp hood that clearly wasn’t supposed to be there. The porcupine’s smirk told everyone she’d already planned it. At the desk she began to write, voicing each word to hammer home what she was doing. 
       
       “Dear, Mommy. You never have time for me, and let me do whatever I want. I used to think that was love, but now I feel like you don’t want me around. You spend so much time training our toy instead of being with me. Well, I’ve decided to give the toy to our babysitter, and have taken its place. I’m going to deny it at first, say it was a mistake and that I prefer being your princess over your prisoner, but I need you to not let me waiver. I only want your attention, mommy, no matter the sacrifice.”
       
       She folded the letter and gave it a little kiss. Darcy struggled furiously into her bindings, but they were meant to hold someone twice her age without issue. Isolde kept her steady by sitting on her back and, with a little struggle, forced the hood over her skull. For blindfolds she used layers of Darcy’s panties. “Enjoy these while you can. I don’t think your mommy, I mean, your mistress, is going to let you wear clothes anytime soon.”
       
       Next thing Madison knew, she was being led off the stage via the leash Isolde held. The director called cut when she exited the scene, leaving to a few applauses from everyone save Madison and Darcy, both bound but the former sounding too annoyed at the script change than grateful. 
       
       Isolde dropped her straight standing domme persona into a hunched nerd nervously looking for approval. “W-We should probably get my quill out,” she said, fingers shaking as she pointed to each one. “They might not be clean enough. I clean them before set but you know how stuff gets picked up.”
       
       Madison wasn’t sure why she did what she did. All she knew was that after the bindings were removed, her gag was gone, and all the quills were pulled out, the stinkbadger had her lips around the porcupine’s in a kiss. A long, breathy, kiss, like that she gave her boyfriend. 
       
       The two stared at each other, only one’s blush showing. “G-Golly,” Isolde said.
       
       “Fuck,” said Madison.
       

