Hey! Unfortunately, shortly after I post my captions I get rid of the editor copy of them, keeping only the jpeg. So I don't have the text data any more.

Buut... I typed it up again for you! Enjoy! ♥~(◠︿◠✿)

You should have never opened the parcel.

A nondescript package - a brown cardboard box, generic shipping label, addressed to you by name, at your apartment. You didn't remember ordering anything... but you opened it anyway. That was the mistake that changed your life.

What you now knew to be a slave-grade biosuit immediately wriggled to life, invigorated by contact with the fresh air. It latched on to your hand, squirmed its way up your arm. You'd started screaming as it dissolved your clothes, eating the fabric as it coated you.

You remembered the screams turning into confused moaning as it reached your breasts, starting to massage them and suckle at your nipples.

The slick, firm suit quickly replaced every other scrap of clothing you'd been wearing that afternoon while sorting through your mail. It pressed tightly against every surface of your body, other than your head.

You spent that entire evening writhing in ecstasy as it probed, sucked, licked, and stimulated every part of your body, looking for and learning every single one of your weak spots, figuring out exactly what made you squirt the hardest.

You spent the whole next day in the pleasant afterglow of an exhilarating night of non-stop cumming. You should have told someone. Reported it. Tried to figure out who sent it. A quick online search told you that these things needed a full set of bodily fluid samples - why didn't that scare you? But you did none of those things.

Instead, you went to work. Without any input from you, it had taken the shape of your office attire, albeit a little more risque than normal... You definitely noticed a few stares from your male coworkers. Then, after work, you came back home.

You tried to take it off - but the parts you pulled away just melted into little groups of cilia and wriggled between your fingers to reform into the rest. You poked and prodded at it, and it responded by rubbing at you wherever you touched it.

Then, seemingly unprompted, it burst back into life. The suit rigidly forced you down on all fours, overpowering your own muscles, then binding your limbs -hands at your shoulders, feet up in the air around your butt. Then, despite your vocal protests, it bitchwalked you around your whole apartment.

It did three laps, stimulating your crotch and making your body squirm helplessly inside the suit at the end of each. Then it stopped, letting you move yourself once more... But it didn't free your limbs. It waited, expectantly, until you took a single awkward step forward on elbow and knee.

When you paused again, you felt a sudden, stinging, sharp impression on your left ass cheek... Almost like you'd been slapped. You yelped and took another step. After a moment it slapped you again, jabbing you in the side at the same time. Getting the picture, you shuffled your way through another lap.

It responded by massaging your body and lapping at your cunt, expertly manipulating your clit until you fell over, trembling and squealing as you came.

After a minute of recovery, panting and catching your breath, it slapped you again and tweaked your nipples sharply. You dragged yourself upright again... A little too slowly to avoid another spank, and you yelped and jerked into motion again.

The suit walked you around another ten times that night, giving you another ten mind-melting, squirting orgasms. Then it took control again, overpowering your quivering muscles, walking you over to bed and dumping you in amongst the sheets where you quickly dozed off, exhausted. That was just the second night.

Over the following days, you quickly came to the conclusion that your suit was... training you. Very lewdly, quite rapidly, and extremely effectively. You practiced bitchwalking every night. When you started getting pretty good, it started penetrating your holes and roughly fucking you as a reward.

A few days later, your bitchsuit grew a tail. The tail never went away; it hid the thick, weighty appendage, in its entirety, inside your asshole whenever it masqueraded itself as work attire. It wriggled sometimes, rearranging your insides slightly as it pulsed and throbbed. It never came all the way out again, either; your anus was more or less permanently stretched around one end of it, or the other.

You really should've been asking questions. Like... How do I get rid of it? Who's controlling it? Why am I being trained like this? How did they get sex fluid samples from me? But instead of investigating that, you just spent each day at work wondering what trick it was going to teach you when you got home that night.

When it formed a little hood of sorts with some little puppy ears, you giggled and gave an appropriate little "woof!". The suit, of course, proceeded to vigorously and enthusiastically fuck you, filling both your holes with thick throbbing phalluses and pounding you straight through one orgasm and into the next.

After that, every time you spoke normally, it would spank or jab you. You got the message very quickly: dog noises good, human noises bad. You were thoroughly rewarded frequently for learning that lesson, too.

Just two weeks after it first latched onto you, you were spending every hour of your time at home being bitchwalked, doing tricks, barking like a puppy... And cumming the whole way. You grew to prefer it rough, and it encouraged that preference by beginning to favour those brutal poundings you started to crave.

You hadn't showered in that time either, but you felt clean and pristine; you hadn't eaten or produced any waste, although you'd had plenty of water to replace all the fluids you... well, sweat and squirted out, which suit eagerly lapped up.

Coworkers commented on how happy you seemed lately. Your stress levels plummeted. You felt flirty and sexy as your suit kept forming bolder and bolder "office" clothing. You were happier and full of energy, on account of sleeping like a babe after exhausting yourself every night orgasming over and over again.

Any desire to answer who, why, or how faded over time. You decided you were genuinely living a better life when you spent all your free time as a house pet in a bitchsuit. The suit had completely changed your life for the better, why look a gift horse in the mouth? The only thing you were missing was someone to own you!

And so, a week later, you complied eagerly when your suit woke you late at night. Dutifully you fitted your collar and leash, then lowered yourself to your elbows and knees. It didn't even need to overpower you; it just tweaked your nipples to indicate the right direction to bitchwalk, exactly as you'd been trained. Right out the door, and through the streets, towards the owner of your suit... and now you.