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A missive from the Blessed Mother, may she reign eternally over her Chosen.
Cubs who are first brought into My care are unruly and recalcitrant, more willing to cooperate with each other than with their caregivers. This will not do, of course, so the first task at paw is to train them out of that awful habit.
This is where the seesaw comes in. It's one of many, many toys I have in My possession designed for predicament training. On both ends houses a wolf dildo, both of which are sufficiently lubricated and ready for action.
The game is simple. One cub on each end, and the first to be knotted by their dildo is the loser.
The winner, the one whose knot is not in them by the end, is given some reprieve and a small rest in a luxurious nursery space, all their needs accounted for and then some, along with some reminders of their victory, downplaying however pyrrhic it was, and how debasing the diapers can be. They are promptly changed during this period, after all, and all things considered life is good.
The loser rests in a much more... personal space where they are given access to the camera of the other's more preferable living situation and little outside the most meager of necessities, though no punishments. These ones are given reminders of the gulf between their situations, and how the other had chosen to win instead of letting them attain the victory.
Those who try to skirt the rules by clambering off are still given the camera, of course, but their already rough situation is given new life based on the predicament they broke the rules of. The seesaw, for example, makes them privy to how it feels to be spitroasted by two wolf dildos.
It is our goal to engender hatred. During this phase of development, the punishments are both light and merciful. The competition is the exception here, with rewards at the end of each. There is also the explicit knowledge that greater rewards await the cub that proves themselves the victor, from their resting place to their attire and other supposedly basic needs.
They train each other with only minimal input from the caregivers as a result; increasingly humiliating or debasing tasks with a clear victor and failure, from humiliating themselves via impromptu fashion shows or proving who is better at oral sex. The winner is showered with rewards and reminders of their victory, and the loser gaining but meager pittances while being reminded of what the other took from them. It becomes easy to view each other with some form of animosity, and it's fascinating to see how each and every one develops.
Will they both stop at nothing to achieve victory?
Will the enamored pair break up, unable to look each other in the face?
Will one attempt to make up before each and every training session, only for the apologies to fall on deaf ears?
Each and every situation is different, but a grand majority end up the same way. By the time they realize that they've metaphorically fucked themselves by becoming a monster, they have quite literally fucked the other in a show of dominance- ether by their own genitals or strapon, or metaphorically, such as being the one to strap the final piece of the drone suit upon the other. In the heat of the moment, they rarely see the other as anything more than an obstacle to overcome.
The energy of the final session almost always gives way to the horror of having turned their very best friend, or possibly lover, into the very thing we wanted them to both be in the first place.
Of course, that is where the victor's training begins in earnest! Just because they won does not mean we still do not want to mold them into the perfect little worshipper, and much of the trust we used to have to build before we began this program has already taken root. They now live with the guilt that they have so thoroughly ruined the life of somone they loved, and that can be taken advantage of.
Ah, but to the prisoner's dilemma. What if they both try to climb off at the same time, you say? Especially rare, that, but we bow to their genius after it is clear that they are attempting to game the system. They will be trained as a pair, then, and their genius put on a pedestal for even the victors to look upon and despair at their greatness. They did not have to fight and claw their way to the top, after all; did not have to sacrifice another to end up in a better situation. It is especially cute when they realize that while their rewards are shared, their punishments are, too, from the ones administered by the caregivers to the ones inflicted by the other devotees. Those strong-willed enough will find their training especially brutal, involving having to so intimately understand the other that they may as well be the same person, enough use the Drift and pilot a mech... or more appropriately become a singular drone who quite literally is in two places at once.
Regardless of the outcome, all little ones who walk through the doors break eventually, and I love each and every one of them.
May the Blessed Mother be with you always.
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