Man? Dog? Slave? Spike didn’t even know anymore. How much time had passed in these labs, with these drugs and suits and videos? He couldn’t figure out any of it anymore, sure, he looked like a pup, didn’t he? It was just a mask, a voice in his head kept saying, just a rubber suit the doctors made him wear, but it…he couldn’t remember having any other face, and if it was a mask, shouldn’t there be a face underneath it?

And he couldn’t walk on two legs anymore–how could he be a man, and not walk upright? He tried, god, he tried every night in his kennel, but he just couldn’t balance. It felt so much more natural on his hands and knees, so much more comfortable, wagging the tail stuck in his ass, licking the doctors’ hard cocks, smelling their piss when they marked him as their property.

And now…well, he could barely understand them anymore, they were just talking gibberish. Sure, he knew his name, ‘Spike’, and ‘sit’, ‘stay’, ‘suck’, ‘fetch’, ‘dildo’, all the normal words like that, but nothing else. Maybe…maybe he was just a puppy. Yeah, just a rubber puppy, a happy horny, rubber puppy slave, happy horny rubber puppy slave happy horny rubber puppy slave happy horny rubber…

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