The Kennel: Part 1

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Myūzu was stripped naked and strapped to a chair for her transformation process.  The human struggled and writhed as belts were tightened around her wrists, but it was all to no avail.  The guards’ were all steadfast in their duties, ironclad in their wills, and they knew how to hold a prisoner.  Soon all of her was tied up to the chair, and the procedure began.
A machine lowered from the ceiling, a gigantic thing that made Myūzu’s mouth drop open in surprise.  Then, a beam shot out of the machine, and hit her dead in the chest.  She screamed and cried out in pain, unable to control herself—the beam was putting immense pressure on her, too much to reasonably contain.  She was going to lose control of herself soon, in more ways than one.
As the laser tore through her body, fear ran through her, and an involuntary fart escaped her butt, loud and wet, ringing throughout the room.  And there was going to be more where that came from, too.
Her mind raced for possibilities, trying to figure out how to escape.  And as she tried to think of ways to get out, she thought back to what had gotten her into this horrible situation. . .
/”Come on, Myūzu!  Keep up!”
She and her friends made her way down the back alleys, through the streets of her city, ducking behind walls as needed.  They had been looking forward to this secret party for weeks now, and hopefully, nobody would discover her.  And Myūzu prayed that the government hadn’t found out about the event—that would mean arrests for everyone, and sending a party goers to the Kennel.  She had been roped into coming here, and the last thing she wanted was disaster.
Finally, the group found the underground tunnel, and opened the secret entrance, walking inside and closing the door behind her.  What she found below was not government arrests, much to her relief, but a rave that was already much underway.  She smiled, and the group separated— Myūzu walked to the bar, intent on grabbing a drink.
“Vodka, please,” she said to the bartender, sitting at a stool.
“Vodka, huh?  I like that.”
She turned, and saw a cute guy sitting next to her, giving her a kind smile.  “You’re cute,” he said, taking a tip of his beer.  “What’s your name?”
She hesitated for a moment—come on, they knew each other!  What was his game?—before answering, “. . . It’s Myūzu.  What’s yours?”
“Clarence,” he replied, smiling.  “Cutie like you is gonna need a place to go.
“Want to go to one of the private rooms and . . . get to know each other better?”
Myūzu laughed, and when the bartender returned with her drink, she chugged her vodka, and stood up from the stool.  “I’m not that easy.  But if you really want me?
“Meet me on the dance floor.”/
That was how they had first /truly/ met.  That was what the event that had changed everything, and led to her being tied up here, and transformed.
Myūzu’s cries got louder and more intense as the pain increased, and she struggled to hold onto herself as time went on.  She could feel her bowels involuntarily loosening again, and this time, she didn’t just fart.
Shit escaped her ass, piling out onto the surface and tumbling through the gap in the chair, falling onto the floor.  Some of it was chunky and hard, while some of it liquidy and soft.  It came out in waves as the human screamed and cried, unable to control herself.  The guards didn’t even blink.  They had seen all of this before.
She continued to yowl as she soiled herself, and she could feel her memories slipping.  No, no, she had to hold on.  She wanted to remember him. . .
/They had really hit it off that night at the secret rave, and so, she and Clarence kept seeing each other.  They met in secret every week, each time at the same part of town, at the border between the common district and the upper class one—it turned out he was part of the latter.
But that was something she already knew.  Because she was one of the servants who worked at Clarence’s household, dusting the furniture and tending the garden alongside others from the lower class of their society.  She managed to see Clarence once in a while during her chores, but was never aloud to talk to him at all.  Her role was to keep the place clean and tidy, but to stay quiet and not remind those around the house of her presence.  That was just the way things were.
So when she saw Clarence that night at the bar, part of her had been hesitant, she admitted.  But she was also confident—this was her space here, in the lower class.  If he was going to step on her turf, he could play by /her/ rules for a change.
Clarence, on the other hand, had the opposite experience.  He had, in fact, seen her around the house once in a while as she cleaned it, just another one of his parents’ servants to contend with and avoid as he went about his business.  But at the bar, he hadn’t remembered her, not really, so though she looked vaguely familiar, he still felt confident when he started flirting with her, and even more so when things between them escalated that night.
That’s when Myūzu spilled the beans, revealed that she worked for his family.  She winced, expecting the man to be angry at her, to bring retribution down upon her.
Clarence was indeed surprised.  “Of course.  So that’s why you looked familiar,” he muttered.  But then he turned to her with a reassuring smile.  “I’m glad you told me,” he said, “but that doesn’t change my feelings for you.  I still want to get to know you better . . . if you’ll let me.”
“Really?!” Myūzu exclaimed, surprised but happy.  She smiled.  “I want to know you better, too.  Can we. . . Can we try to sustain this?  Keep this relationship going?”
“Absolutely,” Clarence replied.  He reached over and took her hand.  “Let’s do this.”
And so, they did.  During the week, they were master and servant, and could say nothing to each other as Myūzu tidied the house and folded clothing.  But during the weekend, where they met up, they would talk together for hours, hold each other close, both not wanting to let the other go.  But eventually, the sun would rise, and they had to leave each other and return to their places in society.  And so, they parted—but would always return.
Eventually, Clarence knelt down in front of Myūzu and asked her to be his wife.  She accepted, and the two agreed to run away together, and marry in secret.  And so, they met up again, this time to leave for good.
“Hey there,” the Clarence teased as Myūzu approached.  “You’re looking as spritely as ever.”
“’Spritely’?  Really?”  She laughed.  “What a lovely word to describe me.  You know me so well.”
He grinned.  “Thanks.”
They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, and then, they leaned in and kissed.  It was a long, passionate kiss, one that held promise for their relationship, promise for the future.  It said, in not so many words, “I got you.”
When they let go, Myūzu gave him a bright smile.  ”I love you,” she said to him, putting her head on his chest.  “And nothing is going to change that.”
“That’s them!  ARREST HER!”
The new voice startled both of them, and Myūzu turned in surprise to see two upper class members approaching, their rich outfits flowing as they walked.  Before she could react, she was grabbed from behind by two guards, who forced her hands behind her back.
“Mom?  Dad?!” Clarence asked, clearly startled.  “W-What are you doing here?!”
“Rescuing you from this heathen of a servant,” Clarence’s father snapped, glaring at Myūzu.  “Trust me.  It’s for the best.”
“I’m an adult, I can love who I wish!” the man yelled.  “And she’s not a heathen!”
“Take her to the kennel,” Clarence’s mother told the guards.  “That’s where trash like her belongs, anyway.”
Myūzu was dragged away by the guards, and she let out a scream.  “Clarence!” she cried, wanting to reach for him.  But her hands were trapped behind her back, and she was dragged away./
That was the last memory that went through Myūzu’s mind before she was utterly changed.  She screamed as the final stage occurred, and the transformation reached its peak, making things worse for her than ever before.
Piss and shit left her bowels, staining both the chair and the floor.  The traumatizing process was too much for a body to take, and her brain was overloaded, resulting in loud cries and intense struggling.  Until, at last, it was over.
The dust settled.  The transformation was complete.