Chapter 8: The Obedient Pets
The air hung thick with sweat and the faint ozone smell of electronics. The chastity belts, cold and heavy against their hipbones, felt less like accessories and more like armored parasites. Merleperle stared at the intricate steel contraption locked around her waist and pelvis. Thin straps bit into the hollows above her sharp hip bones, the central panel – a smooth, featureless plate for now – pressing unnervingly against her flat stomach. It felt designed for someone with curves she didn’t possess, leaving awkward gaps that pinched. Beside her, the belt sat differently on Baso. It cupped the swell of her bubble butt, the straps digging into the softer flesh of her hips, emphasizing the roundness the Chat loved to mock.
>> ON THE FLOOR. ALL FOURS. NOW.
The command flashed, stark white on the overlay. The plugs inside them, set to a low, constant thrum by the Chat after the belt fitting, buzzed in reminder. Obedience wasn’t optional. Merleperle lowered herself stiffly onto her hands and knees. The metal against her pubic bone was an immediate, cold shock. Baso followed, a small whimper escaping as her knees hit the thin carpet. The belts clinked softly with every slight shift, a constant metallic counterpoint to the hum of the plugs and the low drone of the computer fans.
>> FACING EACH OTHER. CLOSER.
They shuffled awkwardly on knees and hands, the belts scraping against the floor, wires trailing. Their faces were inches apart now under the harsh studio lights. Merleperle could see the smudged remnants of Baso’s mascara, the tracks of dried tears on her cheeks. Baso’s wide, terrified eyes reflected Merleperle’s own dread.
>> GOOD DOGGIES. NOW BARK. LOUD.
Silence. Heavy, suffocating. The only sounds were the tech hum and their own ragged breathing. Merleperle’s throat closed up. Bark? Like an animal? The humiliation was a physical wave, hotter than the latex suit clinging to her skin. Baso just stared, trembling.
>> BARK OR WE ACTIVATE THE BELT VIBES. LEVEL 3. REMEMBER LEVEL 3?
The memory of that agonizing, bone-rattling vibration from the plugs alone made Merleperle flinch. The belts had their own attachments, their own remotes, hinted at during the cryptic instructions. Level 3 on those? The shower photo flashed in her mind. Her parents' faces.
She opened her mouth. A choked, airy sound escaped. "A-arf?" It was pathetic. Weak.
>> PATHETIC. BASO. SHOW HER HOW IT'S DONE. MAKE IT CONVINCING.
Baso squeezed her eyes shut, tears welling again. Her voice, usually light and cheerful on stream, strained into a high-pitched, desperate yelp. "Woof! Woof!"
>> LOUDER! LIKE YOU MEAN IT! YOU’RE A HUNGRY PUPPY!
"WOOF! WOOF!" Baso barked, louder, the sound raw and ragged. It echoed unnaturally in the small room. The shame burned on her face, visible even through the tears and latex.
>> MERLEPERLE. MATCH HER. OR LEAK.
The word leak hit like a physical blow. Merleperle sucked in a breath, the belt digging into her ribs. She forced her jaw open. "WOOF!" It came out harsh, a desperate imitation. "WOOF!"
>> KEEP BARKING. DON’T STOP. UNTIL WE SAY.
They barked. A discordant, miserable duet. Merleperle’s barks were sharp, forced croaks. Baso’s were higher, more frantic yaps, fueled by sheer panic. The belts clinked rhythmically as they shifted their weight. Sweat dripped from Merleperle’s nose onto the carpet. The plugs buzzed relentlessly. The Chat overlay scrolled relentlessly – laughing emojis, demands for more, cruel comparisons. Stick dog sounds broken lol. Bubble butt actually kinda cute like this. Make them fetch next!
>> GOOD GIRLS. NOW LICK. BASO, LICK MERLEPERLE’S FACE. CLEAN HER.
Baso froze mid-bark, her eyes snapping open to meet Merleperle’s horrified gaze. Lick? Merleperle recoiled instinctively, pulling back an inch.
>> NOW. OR LEVEL 3 ON BELTS FOR BOTH. PLUS LEAK.
The threat hung heavy. Level 3 on the plugs alone had been torture. The belts… The leak… Baso whimpered, a low, canine sound that wasn't part of the act. Slowly, trembling violently, she leaned forward. Her tongue, small and pink, darted out nervously.
The first touch was a hot, wet stripe across Merleperle’s latex-covered cheekbone. It tasted faintly of salt and sweat and the chemical tang of the hood material. Merleperle shuddered, nausea rising. Baso kept licking, her eyes screwed shut tight, tears leaking from the corners. She licked across Merleperle’s forehead, down the bridge of her nose, over the curve of her covered jaw. Each wet, rasping pass was an intimate violation amplified by the cameras, by the watching thousands.
>> MERLEPERLE. YOUR TURN. LICK BASO BACK. SHOW HER HOW A GOOD DOG GROOMS.
Merleperle felt dizzy. The buzzing inside her, the cold metal cinching her waist, the taste of Baso’s sweat and tears on her own hood, the humiliation of the barking – it coalesced into a suffocating wave. But the remote. The leak. She leaned in, her movements stiff, robotic. Her tongue touched Baso’s wet cheek. The taste was stronger now – salt, fear, the underlying bitterness of despair. She licked awkwardly, hesitantly, mirroring Baso’s path. Baso flinched but didn’t pull away, her own small whimpers muffled.
They were a grotesque tableau: two young women on all fours, gleaming black latex under hot lights, intricate metal cages locked around their hips, licking each other’s tear-streaked faces like bewildered, terrified animals. The clink of the belts and the wet sounds of their tongues were the only sounds besides the scrolling vitriol of the Chat.
>> AWWW. BEST FRIENDS! NOW STAY. DON’T MOVE.
They froze, their faces still close, breath mingling, the taste of shared degradation thick in their mouths. The plugs buzzed. The belts felt heavier than stone. The silence stretched, punctuated only by their shaky breaths and the relentless hum of the machines watching them.
>> CAMERA TWO. ZOOM ON THE BELTS. LET’S SEE OUR HANDIWORK.
The main camera light shifted. A secondary light snapped on, harsh and focused, centering on the polished steel contraptions locked around their lower bodies. The smooth plates, the thick straps, the tiny, ominous ports where attachments could connect…
>> SEE THE LOCKS? REMOTE CONTROLLED. YOU BELONG TO CHAT NOW. ALL THE TIME. NOT JUST ON STREAM.
The words landed with the finality of a prison door slamming shut. Merleperle stared at the lens reflecting the focused light on her belt, the lock mechanism gleaming wickedly. The buzzing inside her wasn't just physical anymore; it was the sound of her freedom short-circuiting. Baso let out a low, broken sob that sounded terrifyingly like a wounded pup's whine, her body trembling within its gleaming cage. The Chat owned the keys. The Chat owned the vibes. The Chat owned them. The stream was still live, broadcasting their utter, irreversible capture to the roaring void.