{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"fdbbee7e-005f-4731-a6c7-3442fc51a540","seriesId":null,"seriesName":null,"currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2024-11-01T20:22:11.83Z","title":"Rebel Justice - A Switching Places Story","slug":"rebel-justice-a-switching-places-story","shortId":"NSTPQqMK","authorNote":"This is set in my Switching Places universe, with Chapter One starting in between Chapter 1 & 2 of Switching Places. Please read that story before moving on to this one.\n\nI release all my stories for free; however, if you enjoy what you read and would like to support me, please consider subscribing to my website, where I release my chapters up to two months before publicly releasing them. \nhttps://www.bhfun.com","disclaimer":"Although the story itself is written entirely by me, the book cover art is AI generated.","type":"Novella","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"The CEO of the largest slave equipment company in the United States finds himself in a precarious situation. Will he survive?","partCount":2,"parts":[{"partId":"02219de5-894b-4918-a2d2-d47b59eda251","title":null,"summary":"Chapter\nOneI heard the elevator ding and stepped out onto the 28th\nfloor of my building. Only a hand","wordCount":4950,"readTime":25,"number":1,"state":"Published"},{"partId":"2f996912-ac16-4150-a572-f80f22819775","title":null,"summary":" Chapter Two It had been two months since my body had been stolen, my\nnew body was arreste","wordCount":4820,"readTime":24,"number":2,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"Chapter 1","content":"

$\"\"$

Chapter\nOne

I heard the elevator ding and stepped out onto the 28th\nfloor of my building. Only a handful of directors’ offices and meeting rooms\nwere located on this floor, so the lobby was nice and spacious. As I walked\npast, I noticed Slutlips, my personal assistant, standing up in her extreme\nballet heels. She was a brilliant secretary I had brought over from my previous\njob at SlaveFarm Auctioneers. She was technically a free woman, but she was\nfiercely loyal to me after I uncovered her father’s illegal activities, which I\npromised to keep hidden if she obediently worked for me.

I nodded at my rubber-clad African-American secretary, “Slut,\nI have a meeting scheduled with a freelance inventor. Let me know when he\narrives.” I commanded, eliciting a nod from her hooded head. With that\nacknowledgment, I stepped forward and entered my office.

My name is Harold Masters, and I am the recently\nappointed Chief Executive Officer of SlaveTech Incorporated. The previous CEO\nlost his job after our closest rival, ControlCorp, overtook us in quarterly\nmarket share for the first time in years. The company had lost its way\nrecently, focusing more on improving already released technology and completely\nbotching the launch of the Control Collar. I had won the role by promising the\nboard a refocus on revenue generation and an overhaul of the work culture that existed\nhere.

The way women were respected here horrified me. Perhaps\nrespected is too strong of a word to use, but they were definitely valued, even\ngiven responsibilities that a manager should hold, despite it being illegal for\na woman to hold leadership positions. I immediately worked on reshaping the\nculture to remind women of their role in society, including extra checks from\ntheir supervisor before submitting work and instigating a new uniform policy,\nwhich came into effect today.

I had just finished my tour of the building, and I could\nalready notice the vast improvements in productivity. The men appeared much\nhappier, and the women were far more focused on their work after most of them\nlost their ability to speak and distract others with their useless ideas.

I particularly enjoyed my trip down to the R&D\ndepartment and witnessing Sarah Jackson in her new uniform. I had heard rumors\nthat she was single-handedly keeping SlaveTech afloat with her innovative\nideas, but she needed to be reminded that she is just a set of tits and ass\nabove all else, and her manager did a great job picking out her new outfit.\nSarah’s father was the leader of a rival auction house and always had a knack\nfor undercutting my commission fees and poaching the grade-A sluts. Seeing his\nprized daughter knocked down off her high horse was all too sweet, and I\ncouldn’t wait to evaluate the fantastic work the boys had done to her in the\ndungeon.

Not long after I sat down, there was a knock at the door.\n“Come in,” I bellowed before my rubberized secretary hobbled in with a man\ntrailing behind her. The man was young; he looked barely old enough to have\nfinished college and had a tall, lanky body. Slicked-back sandy blond hair gave\noff the vibe of a man who never truly left the frat lifestyle.

The man held a black leather leash in his left hand,\ntugging along a beautiful, humorous sight at his side. Fitted in a tight black\nrubber bitchsuit, a woman crawled along on her elbows and knees. The black\nlatex was incredibly tight, keeping her ankles propped up against her thighs.\nSimilarly, her arms were folded tightly, forcing her to struggle on her elbows.

The woman wore a full rubber puppy hood with ears perked\nup, giving her an undeniable canine appearance. At the other end, a latex tail\nprotruded from her covered ass. She wore a thick red collar, which was attached\nto the leash in the man’s hand.

“Good afternoon, Mr Masters,” the man introduced himself.\n“I’m Jason Cannings, and I own a small startup enterprise called Petgirl\nSolutions.” I grinned; since the legalization of female slavery two decades\nago, an abundance of one-man businesses have continued to prop up, attempting\nto capitalize on the lucrative slave economy. Most of these men hinged their\nsuccess on one single idea and disappeared into obscurity when that idea\npredictably failed.

“And who is this little thing here?” I wave my secretary\naway before addressing the latex puppy on the floor. Although the majority of\nher body was covered, her eyes were still visible, and the fiery look told me\nthat this bitch hadn’t been fully broken in yet.

The blond man smiled and tugged the leash upward, forcing\nthe girl to rock up on her knees, her elbows protruding as though she were\nperforming a trick. “This here is Fifi.” I noticed the white color of her\nlatex-clad tummy before Jason yanked her leash again, and she fell back onto\nall fours. “Fifi used to be my annoying step-sister until she got a little too\nclose to one of my experiments. Now she assists me with my demonstrations.”

“Okay,” I respond, staring down at the helpless puppy.\n“You’ve come to show me a bitch suit? You can pick up one of those in every\nclothing boutique across town.” I made sure to sound unimpressed. You needed to\nmake him nervous and uncomfortable; that’s how you figure out what a man is\ntruly made of.

The blond man grinned and pulled a large device from his\nback pocket. “Well, yes. But this is no ordinary bitchsuit.” He commented\nbefore tapping some buttons on his makeshift remote, and thin, brown fibers\nstarted sprouting from the back of the suit, and then the legs, and all over\nthe tail. It wasn’t long before the woman’s suit was covered in natural brown\nhair. He tapped a few more buttons, and the thick hood began to recede, showing\noff her beautiful face. I could see that her mouth was forced open by a simple\nring gag. “This is a fully customizable ‘create your own pet’ bitchsuit.”

“Hmm, very good,” I spoke dryly. “Our Control Collar uses\nsimilar technology, though it is not limited to such a niche market.” He\nappeared to visibly deflate after my critique.

“That’s not all.” He replied urgently. After a few\npresses on his remote, the hair all over her body began to recede, as did the\nblack latex suit. Slowly, the black rubber withdrew all over her body and\nconcentrated on the small of her back, leaving a paw print tramp stamp tattoo.\nShe now looked like a regular naked slave; her long blond hair was loose and\ndamp.

The man tapped away again before looking at his kneeling\nstep-sister. “Fifi, try to stand up.” She narrowed her eyes at him, a look I\nfound amusing. However, her fiery look soon turned to one of confusion as I\nwatched her rock back and forth, but seemingly, she was unable to rise to her\nfeet. “Tell me what’s on your mind, Fifi.” The blond man asked her.

She repeatedly tried to stand as the ring gag in her\nmouth vanished, but she failed each time. I noticed her face blushing a deeper\nred, and she wasted no time trying to use her voice. “Arff arf!” Her eyes\nwidened in horror. “Grrrrr, arf arff!” she exclaimed.

I couldn’t help myself from visibly laughing at her\nhelplessly confused expression. The inventor smirked at my chuckle, pressing a\nbutton and surrounding her in the tight latex bitchsuit once more, the\ndog-shaped hood again covering her face.

I leaned back in my chair, taking a moment to ponder his\noffer. “I believe if I can pair my technology with your Control Watch devices,\nmy bitchsuits will be the number one selling pet-related wearables in the\nworld.” He laid out his final pitch to me.

I admired the rubber-bound canine on all fours in my\noffice. While human pets were becoming more popular, most men still preferred\nto keep real cats and dogs as pets; a human was much more expensive to feed and\ngroom. “I like it, I really do,” I started, “but I don’t believe this is what\nwe are looking for right now. The market for pet suits is just not big enough\nat the moment.”

“But, Sir,” he tried to interject, but I cut him off.\n“You have talent, kid. Come back to me when you’ve designed something I can\nsell to every household in the country.” I wave him away. He wanted to continue\narguing his pitch, but he got the message. I watched the blond man tug harshly\non his step-sister puppy’s leash and guide her out of my office.

Just as I contemplated summoning Slutlips for my\nlunchtime blowjob, my door opened again. I was preparing to berate the young\nblond inventor for being so persistent when I noticed the Director of R&D,\nHugh Connolly, step inside.

The thirty-year-old director closed the door behind him\nand slowly approached my desk with a strange grin on his face. “Ohh, Mr\nConnolly. I wasn’t expecting a visit.” I said. He unhurriedly stepped closer.\n“You’ve done great work downstairs, especially developing that new Control\nCollar. I hope that bitch employee of yours is learning her place in the\ndungeon.” I grinned at him.

Hugh silently continued to step forward until he reached\nmy desk. “Ugh, everything okay, Hugh?” I ask him. In an instant, his strange,\njubilant expression disappeared, and he looked down at me with a nod.

“Ohh, yes, Sir.” He finally responded. “I just came to\ntell you the new security update on the Control Watch is ready for release. I\nknew I had to deliver it to you personally.” The young brunette director\ncommented before tapping away at his own device.

My watch vibrated, and a message appeared: ‘Update 4.7\nbeta available. Proceed?’ I pressed proceed, a progress bar appeared, and\nstarted counting up. The update was slow, and Hugh’s strange smirk reappeared\non his face. As it hit 85%, I felt a shudder and a peculiar dizziness flow over\nme. No update had given me those symptoms before.

I looked up, and the man started laughing uncontrollably.\n“Hugh,” I began. I wanted to ask him what the hell had gotten into him, but my\ntongue felt heavy; something wasn’t right.

“Mr Masters, everything is going to change from now on,”\nHugh remarked in a sinister tone. Was this a coup? Had he drugged me? The board\nwould never let him get away with this. The R&D Director leaned over and\nwitnessed my watch tick up to 96%. “Ohh, you don’t have much time left. I hope\nyou enjoy your new life. Maybe you’ll learn something.” I parted my lips, but\nbefore I could make a sound, the update progressed to 100%, and I passed out.

❖

My eyes\nfluttered open, and I immediately knew I wasn’t in my office\nanymore. I was lying on some damp mattress in a dark, poorly maintained room,\nand a faint musky scent was in the air. I stared up at the flickering\nlightbulb. Numerous cobwebs decorated the coving around the edges of the room.

I absently raised my hand to bat away some dark, loose\nstrands covering my face, and I gasped in shock. I was never a slim man, and my\nhands were large and calloused from 55 years of hard work. These hands in front\nof my eyes were small and dainty. The fingernails were cut and covered in dirt,\nbut they were unmistakably female hands. Nervously, I tugged on the dark strand\nI had just swept aside and gasped audibly when I noticed the long hair was\nattached to my head. I shuddered at the sound of my voice; I was definitely not\nin my body.

Cautiously, my eyes drifted downwards, and I let out a\nhigh-pitched shriek at the sight before me. The breasts on my chest did not\nlook particularly large, but they were undeniable. I couldn’t have breasts;\nthis wasn’t possible. Had I somehow transformed into the inferior sex?

I stumbled up from the dank mattress and steadied myself.\nMy entire center of gravity felt off. I must have lost at least a foot in\nheight and about 20 inches off my waist. With my mind in a daze, unable to keep\nup with each new revelation, I rushed to the bathroom. The bathroom was just as\nill-maintained as the main room, and if I had clearer thoughts, I may have\nwondered how someone could clean themselves in such torrid conditions. However,\nonly one thing was on my mind as I hurried to the mirror.

I wiped the condensation off the mirror above the\nbathroom sink, and my jaw dropped at the sight before me. A young, unkempt\nLatina woman stared back at me with straggly, disheveled, dark brown hair\nframing her face. Despite her sweaty appearance and lack of makeup, she was a\nbeautiful woman. She had a slim, lithe body, perhaps slightly malnourished,\nwith pert breasts hidden behind the dirty rags she was wearing.

The woman looked familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger\non why. Then suddenly, my heart sank as it all came to me. I was staring at the\nface of Sindy Gonzales, leader of the Los Amotinados rebel group. The\ntreasonous gang sought a return to the old days when women were given a seat at\nthe table. They engaged in terrorist attacks and other illegal activity to get\ntheir message across, and they were labeled a terrorist organization by the US\nGovernment.

Sindy Gonzales’ face was plastered everywhere across the\ncountry. She was number one on the FBI’s most-wanted list. The Latina rebel was\nsuspected of being directly involved in the murder of four FBI agents and\nindirectly responsible for much more. The CIA started using insurgent tactics\nto take down key members of Los Amontinados, and the rebel group was only a\nshell of what it used to be. However, neither the FBI nor the CIA was able to\nfind the infamous leader who had caused them so many problems.

Horrific thoughts started to rattle through my head. If I\nwas inside this treasonous bitch’s body, was she occupying mine? Was Hugh\nConnolly secretly a female sympathizer who had orchestrated this whole plan?\nHow was I going to get my body back when every member of law enforcement was\nhunting me?

I stepped back inside the damp, dark room and looked\naround. Sindy was the underground leader of a notorious terrorist group; how\ndid she communicate with the rest of her gang? With all these thoughts rattling\nthrough my mind, I barely registered the whispered commotion outside the main\ndoor.

In an instant, I heard a loud bang and stumbled backward.\nHeavily armored men started filling up the room, surrounding me. “GET ON THE\nGROUND NOW!” one of the men shouted. I dropped to my knees and placed my hands\nin the air. “This isn’t what it looks like. I’m not who you think I am.” I\ntried to reason in response, a thick Mexican accent escaping my lips, totally\nalien to my ears.

The man who shouted his command took two steps forward,\nhis gun directed at me. “Please…” I pleaded once more, but before I said\nanother word, he pulled the trigger. I felt something pinch my neck and\nsuddenly felt dizzy. My eyesight began to deteriorate, and I started seeing\ndouble. Eventually, I succumbed to the tranquilizer dart and fell on my face,\nmy mind drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

❖

When I\nawoke, the dark, damp surroundings led me to believe I was still in the same\nroom I had been drugged in, but I soon discovered how wrong I was.

I was strapped to a large chair, with restraints over my\nforehead preventing me from moving my head around. My arms were bound to the\nchair’s armrests, and my legs were equally helpless. My legs were spread wide\nopen with no opportunity to close them. Several more straps wrapped around my\nbody, keeping me firmly planted on the seat. The seat itself was unusual, with\na hole in the center.

Despite being unable to move my head, the cool air\nbrushing against my body told me I was naked. “Help!” I screamed out in a\nsoprano squeal. It probably wasn’t my smartest move, but my world had suddenly\nbeen turned upside down, and I wasn’t thinking clearly.

Not long after my plea, I heard the heavy door ahead of\nme unlock. Two men in white lab coats walked in, followed by a man with graying\nhair and an expensive tailored suit. The suited man stood before me, looking\ndown at my helplessly bound body as the two others got to work.

The lab-coated workers started placing square pads,\nsimilar to those used to resuscitate patients, all over my arms, legs, and\ntorso. They wheeled an unknown unit under my seat, and I gasped out in horror\nas a warm phallic device pushed against the entrance of my asshole, pushing\nfurther until my ass relented and allowed it entry.

“Fuck, you gotta sto-“ My appeal was interrupted by a\nslap across the face from the man standing across from me.

“Let me be clear on the ground rules here.” The man spoke\nwith a commanding baritone. “You will only speak when I ask you a question. You\nwill only use that mouth to answer my question directly.” Throughout my career,\nI knew when a man was all talk or when he meant precisely what he said, and\nthis man was the latter. “Other than that, I don’t want to hear a peep from\nyour traitorous lips.”

The commanding goateed man introduced himself as the two\nscientists continued setting up around me. “My name is John Parker, Acting\nDirector of the Central Intelligence Agency,” he started. I knew Sindy Gonzales\nwas the country’s most wanted fugitive, but the government was not playing\naround if they sent the CIA director to speak to her directly. I was in\ntrouble. “We have been looking for you for a long, long time, Ms Gonzales. You\nare already going to be spending a long time paying for your crimes, but just\nhow long depends on how useful you are to me today.”

I gasped in desperation as it dawned on me how perilous\nmy predicament truly was. I may have found myself in the body of the Latina\nrebel leader, but I never received her memories or knowledge. I knew as much\nabout the secret underground organization as the man standing across from me\ndid.

“You have to listen to me,” I tried to speak as urgently\nas possible. “My real name is Haro—aghhhh!” The CIA Director was handed a mini\nremote control and wasted no time pushing the button. I felt a buzz emanating\nfrom the dildo inside my anus, and my body jerked violently as the shock\ncoursed through me, the intensity increasing with each passing second. The jolt\nwas brief but felt like an eternity in my mind.

“I will repeat,” Director Parker crouched down so I could\nsee his face clearly. “You will only use that mouth to answer my questions\ndirectly.” How was I going to explain my predicament if the man wrapped me up\nin excruciating pain every time I tried to explain myself?

Over the course of the next two hours, I was subjected to\nintense, agonizing torture as the CIA Director asked me questions about the\ngroup’s base of operations, the locations of other rebels, and the future plans\nof the groups; all questions I was unable to answer. I passed out several\ntimes, but the scientists brought me back to reality by placing a foul\nsubstance under my nose, instantly waking me.

When it became clear I wouldn’t give him the answers he\nwanted, Director Parker nodded to the two men, and they started preparing a new\ndevice. I felt a new cock-shaped object push against my brand new pussy, and\nwhen I opened my mouth to plead for mercy, a large ball was shoved inside, and\na strap wrapped around my head, keeping the ball firmly in place.

“This is your last chance, traitor.” John Parker folded\nhis arms and stared down at me. “I will be back in 12 hours. Let’s see if\nyou’re ready to talk then.” He pressed a second button on his remote, and the\ndildo started slowly pushing inside my pussy. “Mphhh!” I squealed out in\nprotest, but the three men left the room, and the dildo machine proceeded to\npump in and out of me. Did he say twelve hours?

The machine steadily increased its rhythm, and I started\nexperiencing a peculiar sensation building up inside of me, as though every\ncell in my body was beginning to build up in pleasure. As the pleasure\ncontinued to intensify, I was desperate for release, only for the machine to\nsuddenly pause in position when I found myself at the very edge. I groaned out\nin frustration and ashamedly attempted to thrust myself against the phallic\ndevice, but I was strapped in too tight.

Once my body climbed back down from the unusually\nsensitive sensations, the machine whirred back into action, fucking me again\nuntil I was brought to the edge of climax once again. However, just like the\nlast time, the machine paused before I could find release. The process repeated\nitself as the hours slowly drained by.

When the heavy door finally reopened, I had lost all\nsense of time. My body felt incredibly sensitive that the faintest touch was\nenough to make me shudder. My naked, bound body was soaking wet from the\nconstant drooling of my gagged mouth, and there was a puddle of my juices on\nthe floor after hours of the machine’s relentless work.

Director Parker approached me and unstrapped the gag\naround my head, slipping the wide ball from my mouth. “Are you ready to talk\nnow, Ms Gonzales.” I stared at him, defeated. I would have told him everything\nif I had the answers he was looking for, but I could do nothing but look at\nhim, my eyes begging for mercy.

“You live up to your reputation, Ms Gonzales,” He folded\nhis arms, and two uniformed officers entered the interrogation room. “You are\ncharged with attempted sedition against the United States and four counts of\nfirst-degree murder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can\nand will be used against you in a court of law. You also have the right to an\nattorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Take\nher away.”

As he finished his statement, the officers began\nunstrapping me from the interrogation chair and transported me to a stretcher.\nI had no will or energy, and fighting against my transportation was useless.\nThe director stared down at me as I was wheeled away to a prison cell.

❖

The\nsubsequent trial was prepared in record time. The right to remain silent turned\nout to be a command rather than an explanation of my rights, as I was kept\ngagged the entire time in the build-up to my trial. I was placed in an\nisolation unit, with my arms bound behind my back and my feet kept in chains.\nThe only time I was ungagged was during meal times, when an officer fed me and\nnever hesitated to inflict pain on me whenever I tried to speak.

I was paraded in front of the Supreme Court, bound,\ngagged, and naked as the lead prosecutor declared to the world that Sindy\nGonzales had finally been captured. Tens of thousands of men cheered in\nrapturous applause, and the government used my capture as a message to any\nremaining rebels that the war was over.

My trial began less than two weeks after my initial\ncharge, but it was clear I would not receive a fair hearing. Family members and\ncolleagues of fallen officers took to the stand to explain how their lives had\nfallen apart after their loved ones’ murders. During the proceeding, I was\ncontained in a tall, clear glass display box, my legs shackled and spread, my\narms trapped behind my back, and a large red ball wedged in my mouth. The\nsoundproofed display case meant no one could hear my muffled pleas. However, a\nspeaker inside the box ensured I listened to every word in the courtroom.

After pulling on the jury’s heartstrings, they called\nseveral former members of Los Amotinados to the stand, collared and naked\nthemselves, as they turned on their former leader, denouncing her as a traitor\nto the country and providing great details of the many disruptive schemes the\nrebel was involved in. Each woman had a look of shame etched on their face\nwhile they testified and never acknowledged me bound in the display case the\nentire time.

I was never called upon to testify on my own behalf, nor\nwas anyone else summoned to defend me. The sham show trial ended in the\nquickest jury deliberation of all time. I already knew the outcome before the\nword ‘Guilty’ escaped the presiding juror’s lips.

“Thank you, gentlemen, of the jury,” Justice Tyson Miles\naddressed the twelve men, “based on your verdict, I hereby find the defendant\nguilty of all the charges against them.” He then turned his attention to my\nexposed body. “Sindy Gonzales, you are sentenced to a lifetime of enslavement\nwith no opportunity for appeal. The manner of your enslavement will be\ndetermined by the US Govern-”

His sentencing was rudely interrupted when the large\nentrance doors of the courtroom opened, and a flurry of uniformed soldiers\nmarched in, lining the walkway towards the dock. “The President of the United\nStates,” one soldier declared before everyone in the gallery stood from their\nseats.

The familiar dark suit and contrasting white hair of\nPresident Richard Krump entered the courtroom, waving to the gallery as they\ncheered their Commander-in-Chief. He approached the Judiciary Box and shook the\njudge’s hand. “Mr President, to what do we owe this honor?” Judge Miles asked\nin reverence.

“Thank you for your fine work, Justice Miles,” the\nPresident spoke before addressing the crowd. “By executive order, I have\ndecided to take the convicted felon here into my custody. She will be owned by\nmy administration and used as an example of anyone who still wishes for the\ndays of old.”

The President approached me and opened my display case.\nHe wrapped a thin leather collar around my neck as a member of the Secret\nService uncuffed my ankles. President Krump attached a leash to my new collar\nbefore leaning in and whispering in my ear, “We have a special role for you at\nthe White House,” he said sinisterly before leading me out of the courtroom to\nraucous applause from the gallery, the jurors, the judge, and even my own\ndefending councilor. How could this be my life now?

❖

One Week\nLater

I was awakened by a man wearing black aviator glasses and\na black suit and tie clipping a pink leash to my new collar. With a tug on the\nlead, I rocked myself off my back and onto my elbows and knees, the tight,\nrestrictive latex bitchsuit making it impossible for me to stretch my limbs\nout. “Come on bitch, time for your walkies,” the man commanded me. I was\nneither hooded nor gagged but knew attempting to speak was useless.

As the man led me out of my new home, the bells attached\nto my bare nipples began to jingle softly. My suit covered me from neck to toe\nin latex, except for cutouts around the base of my C-cup breasts. The nipples\nhad been pierced with silver barbells, and small bells had been attached,\nannouncing to everyone my arrival.

The tail plug inside my ass pulsated every time I took\none step forward, which prompted my derrière to wiggle and the tail to wag.\nDespite these ‘walks’ now becoming a daily routine, I still felt a wave of\nhumiliation overwhelm me whenever someone grinned, looking down at me.

The humiliation was only exaggerated further when I was\nled outside to relieve myself on the south lawn. When I was first taken\noutside, I refused their commands, but when I peed on the expensive carpet of\nthe Roosevelt Room, I was summoned to the pet training room, where my ass had\nnever felt so much pain. Since then, I always took the opportunity to empty my\nbladder when outside.

My handler led me back inside and through the corridors\nof the West Wing. Although I had visited the White House on several occasions\nand participated in several business-led meetings with the President and his\nstaff, the view from my new eye level was altogether different.

I was taken into the Oval Office, and the President\nswiveled his chair, grinning as he looked down at me. “There is my traitorous\nlittle pet.” He stood up and took my leash from the handler, crouching down to\nview the name tag on my pink collar. Usually, a man would change the name of\nhis slave pet after he transformed her, but the inscription on my nametag read\n‘Sindy Gonzales - Traitor’. President Krump wanted everyone to know what\nhappens when you declare war on his administration. I was being used as a warning\nto anyone considering joining a seditious rebel faction.

He walked me over to his desk when the President’s\nsecretary stepped into the room. Before the laws changed two decades ago, she\nwas a famous supermodel. She was President Krump’s first wife when he was\nsimply a billionaire businessman. Nowadays, she looked more like a sex doll\npornstar than a walkway model; her breasts had been inflated to impossible\nM-cup proportions. Her ass had been equally expanded, and her tiny waisted\nexaggerated her sex doll look. She wore a slutty latex secretary dress, with the\nrubber top showing off her waist and mountainous cleavage and the tight skirt\nhobbling her steps on the 6” heels she was forced to stand in. Her lips were\nridiculously plumped up, and she was forced to constantly pout, her mouth\nunable to close entirely. A series of piercings along her tongue ensured the\nformer supermodel always talked with a silly lisp.

“Mithter Prethident, your three o’clock appointment hath\narrithed,” she lisped, before two men entered the room behind her. My eyes\nwidened in shock and anger when I stared up at the two familiar faces staring\ndown at me before they shook hands with the President.

“Mr. Masters and Mr. Connolly, thank you for meeting with\nme,” the President said as my former body and the man who trapped me here\nacknowledged his greeting. “Thank you for providing a beta version of the\nSlaveTech Bitchsuit. I haven’t tested all the features yet, but I am\nimpressed.”

I heard the familiar sound of my own laugh, filling me\neven further with fury. “Ohh, there’s no need to thank me, Mr President.” The\nperson occupying my rightful body replied. “This is all the work of Jason\nCannings, SlaveTech’s newest R&D Director. He filled the role after Mr\nConnolly here accepted the position of Chief Technology Officer.”

I had had enough. This imposter had stolen my body and my\nlife while I was trapped as some pet girl. “This asshole stole my body! I’m the\nreal Harold Masters,” I attempted to say. However, to my own frustration, the\nsounds that came out of my mouth were much different. “Grrrrrrrr, Wuff wuff!\nArff arff!” I squealed out, unable to form human words.

The President raised an eyebrow as he stared down at me.\nMy former body patted my pigtailed brunette hair. “You sure have a feisty\npuppy, Mr. President,” he said, grinning directly at me.

“Indeed,” President Krump responded. “Special Agent\nWillows. Take Sindy here back to the training room. I don’t want to see her\nagain until she has been trained properly.” He addressed the secret service\nhandler who had taken me on a walk earlier. The man took my leash from the\nPresident and dragged me away from the office.

\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n

“It was nice to meet you, Sindy,” I heard my own voice\nmock me again. “Shall we start the meeting?” He asked the President as I was\nled towards more torture and training.

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