Her silent sobs shook her body, but the straps held her immobile. The buzzing clippers roared, vibrating across her scalp and into her brain, the mirror forcing her to watch every humiliating second.
“Look at you,” Silas sneered, meeting her gaze in the glass. “Hideous. Bald little animal. Not even a woman anymore.”
Her chest heaved, tears streaming unchecked. She couldn’t see it in the mirror, but her thighs had drawn tight, clamped together like she could protect herself, like the transformation wasn’t already rooted deep in her core. The ache low in her belly coiled tighter, pulsing with every cruel word, every stroke of humiliation.
When the last strip fell and her scalp was bare, Silas brushed a rough palm over the stubble. “Better, but whether it’s worth keeping or not remains to be seen.”
The mirror showed her the truth: a bald, broken creature with tears streaking down her cheeks, lips parted in soundless sobs.
But still, her body betrayed her, bare cunt pulsing with need, clenching with shameful arousal.
She remembered then, the agreement she’d readily agreed to — no shifting until after Christmas morning. She’d liked the idea of having a day and a half to feel what they did to her body before achangeerased all the aches and pains, but this meant she’d be bald when she woke on Christmas. A visual reminder of her ordeal.
The thought twisted like a knife even as her body throbbed with raw, helpless need, and her reflection taunted her. No longer a woman. Just a bald, trembling pet, forced to watch herself be reduced. Owned.
They unstrapped her, clipped the leash back on, and tugged her down from the chair. Her mitts thudded on the floor again, further battering her psycheandher knees. Her scalp prickled with unfamiliar sensations, and her raw cunt still radiated heat from the brush.
“Kitchen,” Kenny said, tugging her forward. She crawled obediently, head low, the leash tugging when she lagged.
Once she was back on the tile, Silas’s voice cut sharp. “I need a toilet. No time like the present to teach her what that means.”
He sat on the long bench, unzipped, and pulled his dick out. Kenny walked her to him until she was between his legs, staring at him with wide, unblinking eyes, caught between the echo of the last punishment and the certainty of what came next — the horror of knowing her place, and the cost of failing to obey.
“When you hearI need a toilet, you crawl over, kneel, and prepare to drink. No excuses. You are the toilet.”
Her chest heaved, silent sobs already breaking through.
Boone stepped behind her, his massive hands locking around her skull, holding her head in place while pressing her down so she couldn’t move away.
“Mouth open,” Silas ordered. “I have a remote to the collar, too.”
She obeyed, and Silas stuck his soft head in and released his stream.
She gagged instinctively, but Boone held her head in place while Silas tapped her forehead firmly and said, “Toilet.”
The word seared into her brain.
Shame should’ve drowned her, but instead her cunt clenched hard around nothing, hungry and exposed, her body betraying her with heat that didn’t care how filthy this was.
Hot, bitter piss hit her tongue and filled her mouth. She froze, her brain blank, body stunned, too dazed to process what to do with it. Her mouth filled, and she just sat on her knees, trembling, eyes wide, throat locked.
Silas cut off the flow and growled, “Too slow. Next time you stall, Kenny shocks the fuck out of you.”
Her eyes went wide and she stared at him, trying to figure out how to swallow, too fogged to obey — and then the collar fired.
Electricity ripped into her thigh, searing and merciless, yanking her out of the fog like a claw in her spine. Her body convulsed against the leash and mitts, Boone’s hands around her head, a silent scream stretched tight across her face as piss spilled from her lips. Tears streamed unchecked, her vision blurring.
“Again,” Silas said, and the piss flowed.
This time she forced herself to swallow, throat working in frantic gulps, each one a struggle — hot piss burning all the way down while her body tried to reject it. She swallowed again, and again, chasing obedience, terrified of the shock, of failing.
Not a person. Not a pet. Atoilet.
“She’s learning,” Kenny said evenly, pressing the remote against her skin as a warning. “Pain is an excellent teaching tool.”
Silas barked a laugh. “Fuck yeah. Be handy to have a toilet slave. No more pausing a game to piss. Just tell her the word and she comes crawling.”
“Better than wasting time walking to the bathroom,” Boone said flatly, still holding her down.
