Chapter 1: The Oink That Binds

The fluorescent lights of the her Middle School Clinic buzzed overhead, casting everything in that familiar clinical glow. Jenny sat on the exam table, the paper crinkling beneath her as she swung her legs nervously. She was a blue eyed, redheaded, freckle face cutie with braided pigtails, and of course completely lost.
Ms. Baker, the campus nurse, studied her from across the room. The woman had to be in her early forties, with auburn hair pinned back and reading glasses perched on her nose. Her white coat was immaculate, her posture perfect. Everything about her projected calm authority.
"So, Jenny," Ms. Baker said, tapping her pen against her clipboard. "You've been having trouble with identity issues. Feeling like you don't know who you are. Disconnected from your own thoughts."
Jenny nodded miserably. "It's like I'm watching myself from the outside. Nothing feels real. My Gym Coach said you might have a... a special program?"
Ms. Baker smiled. It was a warm smile. Reassuring. "Yes. We call it Animal Farm. It's experimental, but I've seen remarkable results." She set down her clipboard and stepped closer. "The idea is simple. When we strip away the expectations, the anxiety, the constant overthinking—what remains is something pure. Something uncomplicated."
"Like... therapy?"
"In a way." Ms. Baker's eyes met hers. "Tell me, Jenny. Have you ever wished you could just stop thinking? Stop worrying about who you're supposed to be?"
"God, yes. Every day."
Ms. Baker nodded slowly. She pulled a small pendulum from her coat pocket—a smooth silver disc on a delicate chain. Jenny watched it catch the light.
"Then let's try something," Ms. Baker said, her voice dropping into something softer. "I want you to focus on this pendulum. Just watch it swing. Back and forth. Back and forth."
The disc moved in lazy arcs. Jenny's eyes followed it automatically.
"That's it," Ms. Baker murmured. "Just breathe. In and out. You're safe here. You don't need to think about anything except the pendulum. Each swing takes you deeper. Each breath relaxes you more."
Jenny felt her shoulders loosen. The constant buzz of anxiety in her skull began to quiet. Ms. Baker's voice washed over her like warm water.
"Good girl. You're doing so well. Now, I want you to imagine a place where nothing is expected of you. No decisions to make. No identity to perform. Just peace."
"Peace," Jenny echoed. Her voice sounded far away to her own ears.
"That's right. You're a good listener, aren't you, Jenny? A good girl."
Something warm bloomed in her chest at the words. Good girl. Why did that feel so nice?
Ms. Baker continued, her voice lowering further. "In a moment, I'm going to snap my fingers. When I do, you'll feel a wave of pleasure wash over you. It will reset you. Calibrate you. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Jenny breathed.
Snap.
The pleasure hit her like a warm blanket. She felt herself melt, her mind going beautifully blank. A soft moan escaped her lips before she could stop it.
"Excellent," Ms. Baker said. There was something in her tone now—something hungry. "Now, Jenny, I want you to listen very carefully. You trust me, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Good. In the Animal Farm program, we assign each participant an animal role. This allows you to step outside your human complications and simply exist." Ms. Baker circled behind her. Her hands came to rest on Jenny's shoulders, thumbs pressing into the tension in her neck. "For you, I'm thinking something special. Something perfect. You're going to be my little piglet."
Jenny's brow furrowed slightly. "Piglet?"
"Hush now. Don't think. Just feel." Ms. Baker's thumbs worked deeper. "Pigs are intelligent, social creatures. They don't worry about who they are. They simply are. They eat when they're hungry. Sleep when they're tired. Roll in the mud when they want to feel good." Her lips brushed Jenny's ear. "Doesn't that sound nice? No expectations. Just existing."
"Yeah," Jenny murmured. "Sounds nice."
"Repeat after me. I am a piglet."
"I am a piglet."
"Good girl." The pleasure hit her again, stronger this time. Jenny whimpered. "Each time you hear those words—'good girl'—you'll feel this pleasure. It will reinforce your role. It will help you accept what you are."
Ms. Baker moved around to face her again. She tilted Jenny's chin up, forcing their eyes to meet.
"Now, piglet, when you hear me say 'oink,' you will feel an overwhelming urge to obey. You will trust me completely. You will want nothing more than to please me. Do you understand?"
"Oink," Jenny repeated, and the word settled into her mind like a key sliding into a lock. She felt her whole body respond—a wave of need and submission.
"That's my good girl."
Jenny shuddered with pleasure. Her thighs pressed together on the exam table. She was so wet. Why was she so wet?
Ms. Baker smiled down at her. "Now, piglet, I want you to come to my office after your last class today. We'll begin your treatment properly. You'll get in my car, and I'll take you somewhere special—a farm outside the city. Doesn't that sound wonderful?"
"Yes," Jenny said dreamily. "Wonderful."
"Good girl." Another wave of pleasure. Jenny's back arched slightly, her breath coming faster.
Ms. Baker snapped her fingers again, and Jenny blinked awake. The clinic came back into focus—the fluorescent lights, the exam table, the nurse standing before her with a professional smile.
"How do you feel?" Ms. Baker asked.
Jenny stretched. She felt... lighter. Calmer. "Good. Really good, actually."
"Wonderful. I'd like to schedule a follow-up session. Can you come by after class today? Around four?" I’ll call your parents and informed them of the treatment.
"I um... sure. Yes." Jenny hopped off the table. Her panties were uncomfortably damp, but she tried not to think about it.
"Thank you, Ms. Baker."
"Of course, my pet." Ms. Baker touched her shoulder briefly. "See you at four, piglet."
The word hit Jenny like a thunderbolt. Her mind went blank. Her body ignited with need. She swayed on her feet, suddenly desperate to please, to obey, to be good.
And through the haze, she heard Ms. Baker's soft laugh as she guided her toward the door.
"Four o'clock, Jenny. Don't be late."