"Metabolic numbers good, yes, good," Camassia said as she paced back and forth across her exam room, trailing her long vines behind her as she tapped away at the tablet in her hands. I was naked on her exam table, but then, I was pretty comfortable with nudity at this point, since I spent a good chunk of every morning sunbathing in my garden. "No signs of malnutrition or wasting. Phytotech organs have fully adapted themselves to your immune profile. Good, good." She paused, pivoted, leaned in close. "Does everything feel alright? You feel healthy, energetic, yes?"

"On a physical level, yeah," I said. "I'm not having any difficulties moving around, my energy level seems consistent. And you said my knees are looking better. They definitely feel better, I'll say that."

"Mmm, better, yes," Camassia said, nodding and going back to the tablet. "Not ideal, though. Better support, internal support, not just the Sixth Toe. Your species' knee joint is not what I would consider a particularly robust piece of engineering."

"Preaching to the choir, believe me," I told her. "I'm guessing you have suggestions?"

"Mmm. Multiple options. The best, of course, is simply to return to Mars, or to an environment of similar gravitational potential. I know this is not your desire," she said, anticipating my objection, "but it is an option nevertheless. We could also replace the joint, though that wouldn't totally solve the problem. Tendons, ligaments. None of them want to be dealing with the forces being put on them."

"So...replace those?"

She shook her head. "At that point, we may as well just replace your whole leg. Which would solve some of the issues with your ankles. Another less-than-robust mechanism. I can likely develop some kind of intracellular reinforcement to strengthen the tendons and ligaments themselves, but that will take time, both to test and then for your body to take up the changes once introduced. Similar to the photoautotrophic modifications, protein and genetic grafting. Of course, if you were-"

Now it was my turn to anticipate her. "No, Camassia, I'm not volunteering for domestication. Yes, I know the implant would pretty much solve this problem by healing microfractures and ligament injuries as they happen; yes, I understand that I'm doing this the hard way." It was not the first time this had come up in the last six months. She didn't push it but she didn't not push it, either. "I have responsibilities that I can't shirk, you know that."

"You are a very devoted pet owner, yes, yes, I know," she said, not looking up. "Very moving, very inspiring, very laudable. How is your dysmorphia? Feeling better with the photosynthetic augmentation in its final stage?"

Leave it to Camassia, I thought, to swerve from one topic to another like that. It was jarring, frustrating at times, but she knew her business, and I wasn't about to complain when what I needed to be doing was getting her on my side. "It helps, but the more time I have to sit with it, the worse it gets," I said, looking down at the deep green skin of my hand. It was still a hand — still meat wrapped around bone with a dusting of other disgusting meaty things added in. "You said once the biochemical changes were settled, we could talk about working in other augmentations."

"Mmmm." She nodded, a few of her eyes staring down at me, the rest still laser-focused on her tablet as data streamed across it. I wondered why Affini did that — pretended to look at things with their eyes when I knew full well their skinsight had to be miles better than my rudimentary experience of it. "Not having to include a phytochemical converter will simplify the process, though not having a haustoric implant — yes, I know you don't want to be domesticated — will complicate some of the things you expressed interest in. Significantly. Very significantly."

"Complicated is fine. You like complicated."

"...I do," she admitted, turning all her eyes on me. "But I do not like complicated when those complications will primarily impact a xenosophont rather than myself. I am, first and foremost, your veterinarian, Tam. I'm not going to do something that may harm you just because I would find the process of development and implementation gratifying."

She'd gone from Nerd Mode to Vet Mode. I bit my lip. So it was going to be an argument again — fine. I was good at those. "You know the program I was in, TerraPrep, the one to get fit enough to survive emigrating to Earth? It had a ninety-six percent drop-out rate. And that was after pre-clearance, psychological evaluations, the works. They only took people they thought could hack it, and ninety-six percent still dropped out. I spent four years of my life to come here, Camassia. I can handle this."

"Learning how to manipulate vines without the benefit of a haustoric implant will be significantly more taxing than developing your native musculature," Camassia said. "Your brain has no frame of reference for it. The amount of neuroplasticity-enhancing xenodrugs I'd need to give you might be potentially problematic."

"Well, we can cross that bridge when we come to it. I'm willing, and it's a novel problem for you to try to solve. Let's do it!" Bite, I thought. Please bite.

Camassia was silent for a long moment, then switched off her tablet and set it down on her workbench. Then, she turned to me and leaned in again, one hand on either side of me on the exam table. I don't often feel small, even around Affini, but I felt small in that moment, and it took every ounce of nerve I had not to flinch. "Tam, I feel that you are not being entirely honest with me."

"...what do you mean by that?" I said. None of the unease I felt found its way into my voice, and as powerful as the draw of Camassia's cloud of eyes was, I stayed focused not on them but on my goal.

"You have expressed an interest in grafting foliage, vines, et cetera, for the purposes of alleviating dysmorphia. You have expressed an interest in the anatomy necessary to properly vocalize tones only Affini can produce, despite this being unnecessary to speak Affini."

"If I'm going to be working in-" I began, but she cut me off.

"You have expressed interest in various augmentations that would not, as far as I can see, meaningfully contribute to alleviating your dysmorphia. The biorhythmic prosthetics, for example — unnecessary for merely alleviating dysmorphia tied to mammalian biology." She leaned in closer, and I finally gave in just a little and leaned away, if only fractionally. "I am not a fool, Tam. I understand what you are trying to do, and it is not possible."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I breathed, my voice unwilling to make itself known.

"I cannot make you an Affini," Camassia said, as gently as she could, leaning into the kindly veterinarian persona she used with Judy. "I could make you look very much like one, certainly, but I cannot make you an actual Affini. That is not only not possible, but not something I would do."

Fuck. I felt like I'd swallowed a rock, like it was sitting, heavy and indigestible, in my stomach. "That's... that's not-"

"It is not something any of us would do," she continued. "Our responsibility is not one we would force onto others."

My fingers tightened around the edge of the exam table, and my jaw ached — had I been gritting my teeth this entire time? "You don't know what it's like," I hissed, looking down at the floor below. "To feel this wrong all the time."

"I did not say I wouldn't help you," Camassia replied. "I will certainly do everything I can to alleviate these feelings. I will even try to give you vines, though I think it's unlikely to work without a haustoric implant. But biorhythmic prosthetics aren't going to make much of a difference there, and in any case I very much doubt any Affini would fail to recognize them as artificial-"

"I'm not trying to trick anyone! I just... I need it." No. I had to lay all my cards on the table. I needed Camassia on my side to make this work. I'd kept it to myself because I was so sure it'd get the entire thing shut down. Sure, I would have had to tell her eventually, but I'd been hoping to save it for later in the process, when I had momentum and acceptance on my side. At this point, though, I didn't have any other option to even get started but to spill my guts and hope. "It's not just for me. I need it for Judy."

"I'm afraid I don't understand. Explain, please."

I took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, taking a moment to compose myself. "I need a biorhythm like yours. Like an Affini. It's not- yes, I want it for me. I want others to see me that way. Obviously! But even more than that, it's for Judy." I forced myself to look up at Camassia, to meet her gaze — focused as I was at the moment, it was a risk I had to take. "Because that's the only way I can give her a haustoric implant."

Now it was Camassia's turn to be silent as she processed what I'd said, and I let her have the time she needed. Finally, her curiosity became too much to keep in, and she started talking to herself as she began to pace once more."You want. That's. No, that- well... no. No but-" She screwed up her face in a decent imitation of a Terran deep in thought. "Could I? But no, you'd need an artificial core, that's not- well, that is to say- but, no, no, that's not possible," she said, "because there's no way that's going to be allowed, you're not an Affini-"

"-not yet," I cut in.

"-and xenosophonts don't keep other sophonts as pets," she finished, stopping her pacing as if for emphasis.

"But I do," I insisted, finally managing to put a little steel back into my voice. "I do. I have a pet, and Sophont Wellness signed off on that. I have the paperwork to back it up — I'm a good owner." The paperwork in question had indulged in a cloud of other, less impressive terms, like "adorable" and "unbelievably precious," but "good owner" was in there, and that's what mattered.

"There is a difference between being a good owner and this," Camassia said.

"She deserves it, Camassia," I said. I could feel the confidence coming back. She might be a three-and-a-half meter plant from another galaxy, but I'd been spending a lot of time with three-and-a-half meter plants from another galaxy over the last six months, and I'd gotten pretty good at reading them. "She spent eight years having to hide who she was every time we went out. Now I can take her to the park and she can play with other florets — and she loves it! Just-" I felt an ache fester in my heart, and my eyes began to well up. Fuck. "She has so much fun with them, but I know my Judypup, Camassia. I know when she's hurting. And I know why she's hurting. She knows she's not the same as the other florets, that she's missing something. You've had florets?"

"...yes," she said. "I have."

I'm getting through to her, I thought, and my heart soared. "Then you know I'd do anything for her. I don't care how hard it's going to be — I would do anything for her. Even if I didn't want to be like you, I'd do this for her." I did want it. I wanted it more than I'd wanted almost anything else in my entire life. But I wasn't lying, either.

We stared at each other for a long minute before she finally spoke again, her voice perhaps the softest I'd ever heard it. "This will not be easy."

"Fuck easy," I told her, not wavering an inch. "I want to do this right."

"Please understand that there is a high likelihood that this will not work," Camassia went on. "Even if you are able to successfully adapt to having vines, even if I can cultivate a proper biorhythm in you, even if I make you so physically indistinguishable from an Affini that we are able to induce development of some kind of psuedocore... there is a very high likelihood that this will still be insufficient to support a haustoric implant. And that's if we're able to convince Sophont Wellness to permit it. It's one thing to modify your body, but a haustoric implant..." She shook her head. "I don't think it's ever been done. At least, I'm certainly not aware of it, and as you may have noticed, fringe cases in biology and augmentation are something of a fascination for me."

"Let me worry about that."

"I do not want to let you worry about it," Camassia said, a note of frustration creeping into her voice. "Xenosophonts should not have to worry. That is the entire point of everything we are doing."

"Then don't think of me as a xenosophont," I said, as evenly as I could. "Think of me as an Affini with a problem that requires a veterinarian's particular talents to solve. I mean, really," I added, laughing a little, "would a doctor have any idea what to do about this?" I gestured at my body and grinned.

"... no. No they would not." She didn't laugh, but the corner of her mouth did quirk ever so slightly. I relaxed a bit — I had her on board, or near enough to make no difference. "But we will proceed on my timetable. We will experiment, slowly, in iteration, subsystem by subsystem, to ensure this treatment poses no risk to your health."

"I can live with that," I said, nodding. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me," she said, picking up her tablet and hunching over it. "I am very likely about to make your life extremely miserable without achieving your goals."

I snorted. "Camassia, I spent four decades in the Terran Accord. I call that Tuesday."

"Oookay, everyone, I think that's about my limit for today. Thank you so much for watching! I always have such a great time with all of you!" The little animated puppygirl avatar bounced up and down happily on the screen of my tablet as Judy said her farewells. I had turned the sound way down — leaning against the wall just outside Judy's den, I could hear every word anyway, and I didn't want to add an echo to her stream. "Byyyeeee!!" The little puppygirl avatar waved excitedly, her tongue lolling out and her tail wagging frenetically behind her for a few seconds before the stream cut out, and I heard a relaxed sigh and the sound of my adorable wife flumphing down on her pile of pillows and stuffed animals.

I bit my lip and let out a little sigh of my own, reflecting on how lucky I was to have Judy, and leaned around the door frame to peek at her. She was stretching, eyes closed and lower lip seized firmly between her teeth, and I took the opportunity to snap a picture — it was too perfect an image not to preserve it. "Hey, you," I called, setting the tablet down on one of her knick-knack shelves.

Her ears and tail perked up, and the rest of her followed not long after. "Tam!" Her eyes, wide and bright and happy, stayed locked on me as she scampered over and flung her arms around me. She clung to me, nuzzling into my breasts as I closed my arms around her and squeezed, letting her feel that wonderful crushing pressure she loved so much.

"I have a very good dog," I said, smiling down at her. "A very good dog, who got persimmon-clip on the first try."

That got her even more excited. "You were watching?!" she said, looking up at me with those pleading, needy eyes.

"I was," I said, letting go with one hand so I could cup her chin and stroke her cheek with one thumb — I felt her shiver and slacken, flirting with dropping already.

"I-it wasn't a PB," she mumbled. "Had a garbage water split."

"But you were very, very close," I told her, letting my voice fall into the tone of Owner Means Business. "And after you finished that run, you went right back and tried again, like a good puppy." I watched her squirm and gasp, watched her eyes half glaze over. "I'm so proud of you," I added, and she let out a soft moan as she slumped into me, letting me support her weight. She was warm, and soft, and perfect. "Good girl."

"Mmmmf." She began to gently hump my leg, her panties unable to disguise the firmness of her chastity cage against my bare thigh. Her long, wet tongue lolled out as she panted, hot against my hand. She stared through me as she fell deeper and deeper, little helpless noises emerging from her throat. What a marvelous pet I had, so ready to submit that she practically did it to herself with just the slightest nudge.

"You know what I'm going to do?" I purred. "I'm going to fuck my sweet little puppy right here in her den." My hand on her back slid smoothly down to seize her cute little butt, and I lifted her clean off the ground. Three long steps later, and she was on her back in her pillow pile, her panties around her knees and her arms pinned over her head. One of my hands was more than enough to lock both of her wrists together, leaving the other free to tease one of her nipples through her cami. "Good puppy," I whispered in her ear as she squirmed and moaned, unable to control herself.

Judy's den was her special place, but I had a single drawer all to myself for a few of the essentials, conveniently within arms reach — this was not, after all, the first time I'd had my way with my puppywife on her pile of cushions. Towels, gloves, lube, rope, vibes, everything a woman needed to absolutely destroy her lover. I straddled Judy, using my thighs to lock her in place while I prepared myself, and soon I had her wrists back in hand, the other wet and slippery and gliding into position between her perfect little ass cheeks. "Now relax, pet," I whispered to her. "You know what's coming. Three, two, one-"

It wasn't until I had her in the bath, wet and soapy as I scrubbed the sweat, lube, and sex from her soft, smooth skin that Judy put her thoughts together enough to ask. "So...how did the vet thing go?" She looked up at me, her eyes still swimming just a little, but I could see the hope hiding behind them.

I gave her a reassuring smile as I rinsed the suds away from her back. "I talked to Camassia, and I think she's on board, if only to see if it's possible. She doesn't think it is, but she's going to at least try to get us there."

"...so how long before I can get it?" she asked, turning to look back at me over her shoulder, wet hair plastered to her scalp. Her ears looked so funny, drenched like they were but still perked up.

"I don't know, Jude," I said, as gently as I could. "I'm probably going to have to pick a few more bureaucratic fights as we go along, and Camassia wants to go slowly because she doesn't want to do anything that might affect my health. It'll probably be years, still. I'm sorry, I wish I could make it go faster-"

"No," she said, sniffling and wiping at her eyes. "Ow, ow, ow."

"Pup, shhhh, here," I said, moving the shower wand and rinsing the soap from her face.

"I don't- ow! - I don't want you to be mad at yourself. You're doing so much for me, you always do so much for me-"

"And you deserve every bit of it," I said, cutting her off. I knew where that sentence was going, and I wasn't about to have her start digging into herself and accusing herself of being a burden. "What's the rule?"

She sniffled again. It wasn't just the soap that was making her eyes water. "If I want something, I have to tell you."

"And?"

"And if it's not bad for me, and it's something you can give me, I get it."

"Aaaaand?" I smiled and rubbed her back.

"...and I deserve it," she mumbled. She tried to hide her blush by looking away, but her bedraggled, dripping wet tail was wagging and slinging droplets of water every which way. She was even easier to read now than she had been before.

"You deserve good things, and you deserve what you want," I told her. "Do you want a haustoric implant?"

She nodded, sniffling again. "I'm sorry. I'm making you do all this-"

"And I do it gladly. Let's not forget, I'm getting something out of this too, you know."

She nodded. "You get to be a super hot Affini," she said, a smile finally cracking her face.

"I get to be your super hot Affini. Or as close as they can get me, and as much PT as I can tolerate in the process. But hey, I managed to endure TerraPrep, I can handle this." I reached up and stroked Judy's cheek, catching her gaze. "It's gonna be rough work, but you're worth it. I love you."

"I love you too," she said, finally relaxing just a little.

"Now let me finish washing you up, and then it's Judy-Treat time. You want the regular, or the Class-Z?"

"Mmmm, the Class-A only, I think," she said. "And lots and lots of petting."

I laughed and went back to rinsing her off. "Oh, Judypup, don't you worry. You're going to get all the petting you can handle."