Ready To Be Trained

Sue Storm's pussy was a mass of bruises. There were scratches on her body from Porkum's nails. Yet the mutant had stopped short of breaking her body. That hadn't been his intent. He had wanted to break her pride, her spirit. Break her down and dominate her until she became his submissive bitch.

Ready to be trained.

The Invisible Woman awoke in a large dog cage, barely big enough to . Naked and alone. She pulled hereslf up, a collar was tied about her neck, hard metal, studded with the yellow glow of Defraudium crystals. Her body was impossibly weak under the effects of that interdimensional radioactive isotope, her wounded thigh throbbed painfully.

Beyond the bars of her cage, Sue saw she was in a bare room. Each wall was a massive screen, on which porn looped continually. Only the floor and ceiling offered any respite from the silent deluge of images. A part of the screen shifted aside, and Porkum waddled in. The obese pig-man was naked, his dick out and bumped against his ankles as he strode forward with quiet purpose.

There was a dog bowl in his hand. A small, flat plastic dish that could slide through a gap at the bottom of the cage. It was filled with white liquid.

Cum, Sue Storm admitted to herself as the rank smell hit her. It's cum.

"Be a good bitch," Porkum said. "Eat."

Sue stared at him. For a brief moment, she thought of a small invisible forcefield inside of his head, just big enough to cause a catastrophic stroke. The pain in her own head was like a drill straight through her left eye socket. Porkum dropped into a squat, her dick coiled nonchalantly on the floor.

"You need training," he said. "The pheromones I emit, the chemicals in my cum—you'll be horny, suggestible, addicted to my jizz. You'll beg for my cock. But I want more than that. I want you to be obedient. To follow my orders automatically. So we're going to start simple, and you're going to stay here until you're well-trained."

He stood up.

"Now eat your fucking food, and I'll give you a treat."

Sue Storm told herself it was the pheromones that made her lower her face to the bowl. Or the aching hunger in her guts. The itch of addiction. She dipped her lips into the salty fluid and began to slurp. First, reluctantly, and then with more gusto as her mind and body betrayed her. Until she picked the bowl up in her hands and began to lick it clean.

"Good. Here's your treat..."