[center][b]Breaking Them In For You[/b][/center]

[center]By Kaydrien Iceclaw[/center]



This place should be dark and gloomy. A dungeon. Rotting stone, mildew, chains, bars, rats. There are rats, sometimes. Nothing else fits.

Instead of flies the buzz is from fluorescent bulbs. Any dampness is contained in test tubes, flasks, IV bags. Nobody a swamp cooler for a room like this because then they [i]might[/i] get mildew, and that would just wreck the drywall. No bars on the window, and it’s a sunny day out there to boot. No chains anywhere at all.

The exam table in the middle has a lot of straps, though. 

“Maybe we should get a few chains, eh?” Says the labcoat-clad pig. He’s not wearing anything else over the beer-belly, and that goes for below the waistline too.

“Nnnng!” Muffled as it is by the gag in the restrained skink’s mouth, it’s a little hard to tell weather that’s meant to be a [i]no[/i] or a [i]hell no[/i] or one of the more typical pleas one makes when tied down.

“Heh. Guess you’re right.” Doc Hog agrees, walking around from his place at the head of the table/bed/bondage installation to swipe a clipboard off of the side counter. “Lessee here… Yer in for the daydream program. Long one too by the order form, kinky fucker.”

His approving chuckle tells the lizard just how much he approves of kinky fuckers. The frightened whimper gets ignored in favor of flipping through the forms he’s carrying, grin widening with each page.

“Ooh, and I love the ones that get volunteered.” Clipboard is tossed aside as the hog pulls open a cabinet for a few syringes and contraption of twisted metal loops before slamming it shut. “Well, Mr. Pascal, I’ll get you all prepped for your role in someone’s fantasies, how’s that sound?”

The gag is unsnapped, as you do when you want to hear a captive beg. Mr. Pascal doesn’t disappoint.

“Oh fuck oh shit oh hell-“ The Doc doesn’t respond to that, it’s just background music for his job. Not that he dislikes that at all; the pig hums along while he pulls the end of a device away from the wall it’s anchored to, much like the x-rays at the dentist but ending in a narrow nozzle and sporting a lot of tubes that run to the ceiling. The litany eventually trails off into something more grammatical. “-please, please don’t! I’ve got a family.”

“And we’ll be getting you right back to them after our daydreamer is finished with you.” His response completely fails to be soothing, although the tone hints otherwise. Sarcastically, one must assume. The pig pats heavily at the uncovered skink stomach, unmarked by the lovely multicolored red-and-blue-and-green-and-black scale patterns of Pascal’s back and limbs. “I’m sure Mrs. Pascal will love having a fresh slut around the house. Most spouses do once they get over the change, I hear.”

That gets a fresh stream of incoherent, whining, pleading curse words along with a spirited attempt at thrashing. Secured as the skink is at ankles, thighs, wrists, elbows, neck, chest, and three times over at the tail it doesn’t amount to much. Hog shrugs, bringing the nozzle at the end down to the scaled nether regions.

He squints down at the leathery cloaca, adjusting the angle this way and that, before shoving the barely-lubricated end in at least three inches at once. The scream is both expected and accepted with a nod.

“Don’t be like that. We’ve got to get you all clean for our customer, yeah?” If Pascal wasn’t on the wrong side of the room, and wasn’t too busy whimpering in pain at the too-fast penetration of his one and only lower hole, he could have watched the Doc’s big pig balls sway with every step he made back toward the control panel for what was lodged up his ass. But the labcoat was too long in the back for that.

Besides, Mr. Pascal was as straight as an arrow. For another… call it fifteen minutes? Half an hour? It rather depended how much of a rush Doc Hog was in. The Doc leaned toward the lazy half-hour, in the mood to take his time.

Of course when he flipped the switch the startled screaming started all over again, but that was to be expected. The cleaning machine was uncomfortable the first time. He ought to know: The machine wasn’t meant for personal use, but everybody knew there were job perks.

As usual the gadget started by inflating a bulb just inside the unfortunate skink’s cloacal passage, hard and fast like a car airbag. Carefully calculated by the clever little processor running the machine’s innards not to do any permanent damage, it still hurt if you weren’t expecting it. After that came the enema.

Chuckling again the pig came back to feel the skink’s middle as it filled up with warm salt water. He loved the swell of skin under scales, the little vibrations of whimpers and groans of discomfort that emanated down from the ribcage of the beset reptile. As Doc Hog watched the belly grow under pressurized inflation his hands drummed at the stretching skin of his patient lightly to watch it wobble, and wished this order called for filling out the product more permanently. (Doc Hog loved adding some chub.)

Gut slowly filling with saline the skink gasped in shock again every time the fluid filled out a stretch of intestine. There was a moment of painful building pressure before the kilopascals of saltwater force open the next bend with a [i]pop[/i] (felt, not heard). He’s given up further whining under the assault for now, only making more pathetic noises as if the air in his lungs was fleeing the waterline.

But eventually, all things must come to an end and Pascal’s innards were as full as they could take. [i]Time for the next phase[/i] ‘thought’ the little binary faux-brain of the machine.

“Wha-a-a-t’s happening?” Those were the first real words out of the skink’s mouth in the last ten minutes. Doc Hog decided to reward them, patting once more at the wobbly distended stomach.

“This beauty’s done filling you up, so it’s time to empty you back out. Try to relax, bud. Some folks think this is the best part.”

What Pascal could feel inside was a self-articulated hose unfurling into his colon. Just like the water before it the tube went through large intestine, the ileum, the jejunum, and stopped just shy of the duodenum. There was another setting for that, but unless a tentacle fantasy was involved a client didn’t usually require their subject clean all the way to the stomach. The disturbance of the liquid sloshed around to the walls containing them weirdly, and then…

“Ahhh!” This time the skink’s jerk against his restraints was just enough to feel against the tubing that threaded his innards, which had started to suck out the water and any filth it had loosened. The end pulled back as it vacuumed, pulling intestine to shriveled tautness behind it. Doc bade the swollen tum a fond farewell as it receded bit by bit to its usual dimensions.

“Looks like that’s almost done. Time for my part again.” Flipping a switch the pig watched as the artificial knot of the machine deflated- he could see it, in the way the bulged-out cloaca went as flat as Pascal’s middle now. The device pulled itself out by the tip, two little grabbing arms pulling the skink’s delicate male equipment out into the air with it.

Held out in the cool air of the prep clinic, the hemipenes were a sorry sight. Shriveled with a lack of arousal and straining against the grasping machine as hard as their owner had his straps. They would have been objects of pride to the reptilian Pascal, big but by no mean porn-star grade, the knobby bulbous shapes studded and textured and spiked to make the lady lizards scream with pleasure.

“Heheheh. Lucky boy, you’ve got some big ones. And even luckier, your order doesn’t call for shrinking these bad boys down any.” The pig’s fingers brushed over the spiny surface affectionately. “Not so lucky it calls for you to be using them much.”

“What do you meeEEAAAGH!” Like a flash the Doc had drawn a shining glitter out of a pocket and punched through the tip of the right hemipenis. Deft, practiced, and assured; there wasn’t a hint of hesitation or even a drop of blood from where the new piercing was set. He took out another one.

“That’s a good scale-slut. No more talking please.” As quick as the first one he pierced the other manhood, then went back for a third curl of metal. “You can yell if you want though, I hear these last ones are a doozy.”

The skink did yell, a few lonesome tears spilling from his eyes. This piercing was larger, and the pig drove it through the scales and skin at the top of his vent, then again at both sides. Just as deftly he fitted the metal piece from the drawer over both of the hemipenes.

“That’s right, all done with that.” Mock-soothing honey over greased steel. Hog snapped the piercings around the metal loops of the heavy-duty chastity cage, connecting the tips of the flesh to the tips of their steel confinements in a mockery of erection. He finished the job by hooking the contraption to the undersides of the lizard’s cloaca at either side and padlocking the whole thing to the piercing at the top, releasing the machine’s holding grasp as he went.

For good measure he shoved a finger into the recently invaded passage under the everted sex organs, wiggling it around as the lizard exercised what little motion he was allowed to look away.

“And I got the size right on the first try too. Wouldn’t want to block this off after all that cleaning, eh?” He brought the finger up to his mouth to slurp off the remains of the enema and taste of the lizard’s backside. “Now that all the physical prep is done, it’s time to fuck with your head.”

“Please.” Pascal’s voice didn’t have any real hope in it, just a compulsive gambler’s last wager. “I have kids, a home…”

“Yeah, I saw that on your file.” Doc finished savoring the taste, and pulled a pair of syringes out of the pocket he’d dropped them into earlier. “Both all grown up but not moved out. Right?”

The skink nodded, eyes screwed closed.

“We’ll get you home after the client is done, never fear.” Even through closed eyes his patient could hear the wicked smirk. “And your kiddies can share your eager whore ass and mouth with mummy, won’t that be nice? Bet your boy will love daddy’s tailhole. I’ll make sure to tell him it tastes great.”

Without further ado he jammed the end of the green-filled needle into the skink’s thigh, pressing the plunger down hard in a continuous motion.

“Oh fuck…” Pascal’s eyes goggled as he felt the heat spread like wildfire from the thigh, through him.

“That’s the spirit, man.” Genuine encouragement from the boar at this point. The skink groaned as the fire filled him up head to toe before dying away everywhere except in and around his cloaca. Heat seemed to gather there and wick itself away from the rest of him until his locked-up cocks burned.

Hog reached down to the scaly cloaca again, and this time when he shoved two fingers up the quasi-virginal ass Pascal moaned loudly in tortured involuntary pleasure.

“I don’t want this!” Panic and pain and suppressed ecstasy. “Please!”

“These sure do.” Doc Hog pulled back the fingers to trace streaks of ass-slime over the caged lizardcocks, now totally hard and straining through the loops of the now too-tight chastity cage. The recipient of this attention tried to hold back his shudder at the stimulation, failing delightfully. “It’s the next injection that gets you on board. Could’ve given that before anything else, but where’s the fun in that?”

Pascal’s scream was held in by the soundproofed walls, and the pain of the needle right in his left dick [i]wasn’t[/i] pain but instead almost made him cum from the influence of the first drug. He sobbed into the silence afterward and it was once more music to the pig’s ears as the sobs morphed into whimpers, then wheezes, then needy moans.

“One newly made, slut, ready for duty.” Doc Hog gave himself a slow little clap of applause before he went on to reassure the skink. “Isn’t that nice? No more picky little preferences or standards. Just an endless thirst for all the pussies, asses, tits, and cocks you can get. For the rest of your life. And you’ve been lucky so far; maybe after a day or two you’ll even be able to string together a complete sentence between cravings.”

Pascal locked onto one word out of that speech.

“Cock. Cock!”

Doc Hog looked down at the corkscrew erection at his groin, and chortled triumphantly. He extended the same fingers that he’d shoved in a previously unwilling backside to stroke himself a few times.

“Please! Fuck me!” The skink was struggling against his bonds again, but this time it wasn’t to escape. He was trying to leap at the pig, tackle him to the ground, ride him until thigh muscles gave up entirely because nothing else would stop the crazed lizard. “Fuck me hard!”

“Ohoh. We got a smart one. I take it back, I bet you’ll even be able to think about something other than whoring it up once in a while.” The pig walked around the side of the table to the head, and this time his patient both watched and appreciated the swing of his pink smooth nutsack. “Shame I can’t take your backside but the order is for first dibs on scale-slut ass. I can give you my cock just fine tho’.”

He didn’t have to force anything, just put his tip at lips reach and watch Pascal slurp it down like a starving man on a length of spaghetti. To hurry things along the pig humped away, balls bashing against the lizard’s nose and forehead. Doc Hog couldn’t stick around forever. This patient had a fantasy to be in.

So. You ready for your daydream? Doc’s got your scaleslut all ready for you.



[center]The End[/center]