Gromet's PlazaMachine Stories

Kennel Maidens

by Cropsncuffs

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© Copyright 2012 - Cropsncuffs - Used by permission

Storycodes: Solo-F; machine/f; bond; gag; striped; washed; insert; collar; processed; cage; petgirl; nc; X

I was muttering under my breath as I shoved the door open with my backside. It was an easy door to open, and it had to be as my arms were full of cleaning equipment. Equipment I allowed to crash on to the floor with a degree of satisfaction before looking around the room.

I was supposed to be getting some help with this kennel cleaning job, but my volunteer companion appeared to have, to use the technical term, scarpered. Probably outside making pretty blue goo-goo eyes at the kennel owner in the hope she would be taken off any rotas with the words cleaning on them.

Still, Standings kennels had a good name, and despite their apparent staff turnover problems they were a good entry to have on your CV so I was persevering. Not that there were that many staff. Careful planning had reduced them to an almost negligent level and many of the more boring jobs seemed to have been either eliminated completely or simply mechanised.

Picking up the stiff brush I mentally abandoned all hope of my blonde companion putting in an appearance and started mauling the dirt from the wide belt that made up some part of the admittance process.

The dirt, dust and ingrained scraps of hair seemed determined to remain in place on that belt and amongst it’s runners and I quite lost track of the time as I scrubbed and buffed away.

I eventually stood back to admire my handiwork and nodded to myself in a self-satisfied sort of way. The floor may now have been covered with scraps of dust and dirt but the belt and it’s mechanism almost gleamed. Only a few clumps of dirt remained and they so offended my newly awoken sense of cleanliness that I soon found myself leaning over the belt again jabbing at those few remaining tufts.

A few remained resolutely out of reach and I climbed up onto the belt to scrub diligently at the far side. I was still frantically scrubbing away when I felt the belt lurch into life and I came crashing painfully down onto my hands and knees.

I found myself being whisked swiftly along on the belt towards a pair of low double doors which swung silently open the moment my head touched them. Before I could gather my thoughts and leap off the belt the doors had swallowed me whole and I was plunged into a world of darkness.

I kicked out as the doors closed behind me, but they were far less obliging when being asked to open in the opposite direction and they remained stubbornly closed no matter how hard I kicked them. I shouted out for help, for anyone who could hear to come and switch off the machine, but all I could hear now was the whirr and hum of mechanism.

I saw lights flickering over my hunched over form. Beams of light danced over me and somewhere in the distance I could hear a computerised voice speaking.

“Subject breed unidentified: Measuring process complete. Heavy matting of fur detected: Initiating cleaning process”

I didn’t like the sound of that one little bit so I pounded on the door in front of me with my fists and cried out for help again just as loud as my lungs allowed. In the silence that followed my futile attempts I heard again that soulless computer voice.

“Subject panicking during processing: Initiate restraining process”

The four hydraulic arms darted out from the shadows so fast I hardly saw them coming before they closed tightly about my wrists and knees where they met the floor and pulled tight holding my firmly down on all fours just as if I had been a struggling dog. I felt rubber collars within the cuffs inflating about my flesh to make a tight and gentle yet unforgivingly tight grasp about my limbs. For the first time I understood the words I had heard about the kennels when they spoke of the new automatic Induction Processing machine.

I heard more distant mechanical sounds and I did my able best to shout above the noise and to my dismay I heard the flat tones of the inhuman voice again.

“Initiate muzzling process”

An arm dropped down from the ceiling and a dog muzzle was pressed against my face. Designed to keep a dog from biting and barking it did absolutely nothing to stop my increasingly panicky cries as I fought with desperation against the hydraulic restraints that had made my limbs their prisoners.

“Subject not responding to muzzling process one: Initiate process two”

The muzzle was whisked away and as I drew up my lungs for a final shout a wide rubber bit was suddenly pulled hard between my teeth and as I desperately shook my head to spit it out I felt a strap being deftly pulled tight behind my head by yet another unseen mechanical hand and my voice was suddenly as much a prisoner of the Processing Machine as my limbs.

I watched in mute horror as arms with tiny blades and flails darted into view from the shadows and shone lights that detected my every curve and sinew under my baggy overalls before leaping towards me.

Seconds later my clothes were falling off my ample frame in waves as those precision tools danced about me and assumed every inch of my clothes was matted and unkempt fur to be removed.

I could feel the tears running down my face as my limbs hopelessly fought the embrace of the Processing Machine’s powerful arms and I watched those tiny tools dancing across my body until all I could see was my bare gleaming flesh.

“Initiate cleansing process”

Jets of hot soapy water hit me from every conceivable angle and moments later they were joined by rough brushes on jointed mechanical arms that scrubbed ever inch of my body and bought a terrible flush to my naked flesh. As they danced across my body they scrubbed my treacherous nipples and made them spring to attention. I gasped in frustrated passion as the bristles scrubbed briskly back and forth and I gave a yelp as a strong jet ran it’s terrible caress across my rear entrance at the same moment as a pointed brush thrust itself between my buttocks to deeply cleanse my anus and rape my anal virginity there and then.

I was flushed and panting as the waves of warm air drifted over my quivering body in an almost loving caress that bought an almost enjoyable tenderness to my terrifying situation.

“Initiate collaring Process”

The fight was near all gone from my soul as I heard those toneless words and my head dropped as I watched an arm holding a brown leather collar with gleaming brass studs advance towards me. The collar opened and I felt it close gently about my throat as unseen mechanical fingers pull it’s buckle tight. Lovingly tight, just like you would if you were applying a collar to your pet hound. A pet hound. Just what the Processing Machine now thought I was.

The door in front of me swung silently open and for a brief moment I could smell static in the air. The cattle prod touched my arse and I leapt forwards with a squeal and found myself trotting down a steeply sloping ramp.

Moments later I found myself looking out from behind a steel grid and a distant part of me registered the back of the cage closing behind me with a clatter.

I took my in my surroundings silently, the big rubber bit still wedged between my teeth. I tried to stand but I quickly felt more steel bares pressing into my naked back. I tried to turn, but the cage was too narrow, and a quick examination by my fingers soon told me that the bit wasn’t coming out of my mouth anytime soon. I looked up and gave as loud a yelp as I could manage.

Across the aisle from me a pair of big blue eyes beneath a blonde fringe were staring back at me from another cage. Big blue eyes with tears in them staring out at me from above another thick rubber gag that reduced her words to near silent mewling sound just like mine. I could see bare naked shoulders and delightfully pendulous breasts and wondered if I looked quite so damn sexy in my little prison cage of steel bars. So, my assistant had met the same fate as me. Caught, cleaned, collared and deposited in a cage. Somewhere behind the big door to the viewing pens we now appeared to be now part of could hear the voice of the owner approaching.

“I can assure you Mr. Gonzales, we have some excellent new specimens for your viewing today. A blonde and a brunette. A special deal for both ? Well, of course Mr. Gonzales, if that is your desire. We hope to have a redhead coming soon as well, but I can understand why you are keen to get on with your choosing”

So, this was the truth behind the kennels. Far from being in the business of re-homing dogs and cats, it was re-homing unwilling people to who knew what fate. Well, no, scrub that. I guess I would soon be finding out what sort of fate. As would the pretty young redhead I had seen being interviewed yesterday. And somehow things just didn’t look like they were going to end well any time soon.


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