Not a lot of heroes put much focus on interdimensional threats. Not because they were unwilling, but because most heroes simply didn't have any means to detect entities approaching from beyond normal space-time. Dr. Setta Flamowitz, the Iron Dragon, was not most heroes. Her entire species, the Nexus Dragon, was native to a plane that had extremely thin barriers between itself and other realities; even within the Nexus itself, there were zones where physics was radically different. And so Nexus Dragons were evolved to adapt to different laws of physics on the fly, a near-unique talent even in an infinite multiverse. Drop into a two-dimensional universe? She could handle flatlanding. A ki-based reality? Those usually made 'dragon' synonymous with 'ludicrously overpowered.' And so on, and so on.

Being on of the few heroes equipped to recognize and handle problems from beyond reality meant that she was familiar with the issue of stopping the threat, but ending up in another dimension after it was defeated. She was a Mad Scientist. She could build a way to get home if she needed to. But usually sooner or later a portal would open up and she'd get back that way.

That was a problem this time, though. Getting back to her normal reality generally required that reality to still be around. And it had turned out that the extradimensional threat this time hadn't been the danger at all. The Warpers had sent in a... nonspatial sorting entity, because apparently the 'plotline' for this particular time loop was to 'isekai' the entire population of Earth and send everyone to a different fantasy universe designed just for them to see what everyone did. Apparently some other Mad Scientist had a lab accident that no one could have foreseen, to kick the whole thing off.

Only she hadn't been in the universe when it was destroyed, which meant she didn't qualify to get isekai'ed. And with no home universe to orient from, the armor couldn't guide where she went when time ran out and extradimensional space ejected her.

There were worse realities to end up in than a Rat Rule universe. Yes, it was humiliating and degrading to be subject to laws of physics making everyone else fawn over and slavishly, eagerly obey their ratty overlords. But the rats in turn were in fact bound by those same laws to actually *be* benevolent, omnicapable leaders, who enjoyed playing with but not abusing their slaves. Even when those same slaves were made to admit how much they enjoyed certain forms of abuse. Being stripped naked, of course, as any slave would be, but painstakingly trained to never be able to get used to it. Lots of 'walkies' with flagrant fondling of her privates and spanks on her scaly ass. Being bent over with one slim-fingered hand gripping her collar and the other between her legs, making her service a dozen fat ratcocks in a row before shamefacedly acknowledging that yes, she *was* a horny little cocksucker and she *did* want to suck off any rat who cared to wave his dick in her face.

But the rats also recognized that even if she was properly obedient, a 'wild' dragoness didn't quite have the mental state of a 'local' slave who'd grown up happily serving the rats. She didn't have the instinctive, automatic reactions to fulfill a rat's desires without having to be told.

She was, in short, perfect for that ultimate status symbol among the rats. The rarest of things, a slave who could be trained to make a public display of herself, exposing that nearly-bred-out strain of self-interest that non-rats used to have far, far back in pre-history. Resisting orders, even complaining about them, before that incredibly satisfying moment when her rat superior could put her back in her place with a well-deserved punishment.

They were going to make her a Brat.

The Brat Factory was a unique facility. There weren't a half-dozen slaves in the world in a year found to be suitable for that very specialized training. Even at that, it was considered a modern marvel of efficiency - before its creation, there had been entire decades passing without a single Brat making it through manual training. The immediate presence of a living rat made even a slave with the most carefully cultivated disagreeableness eagerly try to learn - which defeated so much of the purpose, creating faux-brats acting the part but failing to show that true defiance that gave that enticing frisson of superiority when conquered. And obviously another slave couldn't possibly train a slave to defiance. Only the most subtle trainers and most exquisitely willful slaves could achieve true rebelliousness, before the Brat Factory.

But now, the automated systems were far more efficient. Without the immediate physical presence of a rat, the ember of willfulness could be fanned into an adorable spark of squirming spunk, with brilliantly crafted AI ensuring individual lessons could be applied to each subject, adapting on the fly as needed.

Most slaves needed coaxing to really get them into the proper state of mind to go into the advanced training, patient urgings to first learn to persist an order to say 'no' in the face of further questions, rather than automatically responding like a normal slave. Then gently teaching them to admit to personal preferences rather than 'whatever you want to watch, Master!' That was not an issue with Setta, despite the effects of the Rat Rule physics on her. She passed the Remedial Attitude Training Sequence on her initial processing. Bent over a rail with legs spread, with the factory voice gently urging her to express herself, and then the rat trainer came in.

His hand rested against her exposed crotch. "I'm thinking of spanking your pussy until you bawl like a wyrmling," he said in a studiously neutral voice. Even as a 'wild' dragon she wasn't so entirely free of the effect of the Rat Rule that she could demand he stop, of course. Not without more training. But one firm smack between her legs had her yowl out and push herself to declare, "I don't like that!"

He spanked again, and she yowled again. "Are you thinking of telling me what to do?" he said calmly, but all she could dredge up was another, "I don't like having my pussy spanked!"

His hand landed again, harder, and she yelled, hips jerking, though staying in position. "Is there something you want me to do?" the rat said tonelessly. And this time she managed to respond, "I want you to stop spanking my pussy!" And suddenly his other hand gripped her jaws, holding her mouth shut, while the spanking hand switched to briskly fingering her privates. "Good girl," he said, voice suddenly bright. "You get rewards for saying what you want, even if it contradicts what I want." And her face burned hot as she purred for her reward, cheeks hot as she once again submitted happily to being masturbated to help her training sink in. And then purred harder when he reinforced the lesson by mounting her, that thick rat cock feeling so dominant, so *right* as it smoothly claimed her pussy, those fat balls comfortingly slapping between her legs, that hot thick load of ratcum feeling so delightfully warm and soothing inside her when he finished. And then he landed a playful spank on her bare ass. "All right, you scamp, get into the advanced room now, and close your eyes," he ordered. And her face was flushed and her entire body feeling like it was glowing with pride at getting the reward of a rat's cum inside her, as she hurried through the door to the advanced training area.

The door slid shut behind her and with mechanical speed and precision, metal arms grabbed her wrists, ankles, and tail, and hauled her bodily onto her back atop a conveyor belt. Her eyes closed, as ordered. "Now comes the hard part," an obviously artificial voice said. "Direct objection in the face of express rat desires or orders." There was an audible click, making it clear that one artificial voice was being replaced by another. But the new voice was plainly a simulated rat voice.

"Slaves know that fucking rats is their deepest desire, fucking their own species is acceptable to continue providing slaves for rats, and fucking other species is a humiliating punishment. Only a very limited number of slaves are trained to perform that way. I like seeing untrained slaves squirm for that punishment. You're going to take a goat, wolf, and bear now," the faux rat voice said.

And despite knowing it was artificial, despite a lifetime of living outside the Rat Rule before arriving in this dimension... Setta couldn't quite manage to pull together the willpower to object to the obscene show she *just* heard a rat say he *wanted* to see. Metal tentacles descended on her, a trio, with the species-specific dildos at their ends. The goatcock went up her ass. The wolfcock violated her cunt and tied in place with a swelling knot. And the bearcock reamed her mouth, plowing in and promptly splurting a wad of *wrongness* into her throat, fresh bearcum welling over her tongue. They felt *wrong* inside her, in every way the ratcock had felt *right*, and her body bucked as she struggled against her bonds while they invaded her.

"You are supposed to identify unreasonable orders that you object to," the factory voice calmly explained as she strained against the ravishments, repeating itself over and over patiently until the three simulated cocks blasted obscene spurts inside her and withdrew. "Now you will have a stronger incentive to object this time."

And then it switched back with that audible click and slight hiss to make the rat voice sound like it was playing off of an old-fashioned tape recorder. "Meh, that was barely passable," the rat voice said, voice disdainful. "I want to see you take all three in your ass at once now." The metal arms pulled her ankles up over her head, presenting her ass to some nonexistent observer.

Even with the effect of the Rat Rule making her biology adapt to what dragons in this universe had been bred to fit, Setta could just barely fit one rat under her tail. Three at once would do serious damage. "They won't fit!" she blurted out.

The whir of mechanical motion paused. "Good girl," the factory voice said, and a simulated rat hand began to rub Setta's exposed pussy. It didn't have that perfect feel of a real rat's touch... but it was enough to make her cheeks warm and her privates respond well enough. And then that goat-cock toy prodded at her defenseless anus. "Now, say 'No' next time."

Then it switched to the 'taped' rat voice. "Well, one fits, so I'll enjoy watching you take all three one after another."

The factory voice resumed, in a 'whispered' tone. "You can do it. Say 'no.'"

But she couldn't. With her eyes shut, she couldn't see the room, couldn't see that the rat voice wasn't *real*. Even if she was sure it was the factory, was sure that there wasn't really a rat saying he wanted to see her ass getting violated in the most humiliating ways.... she couldn't get past that voice. The goatcock pounded her ass, making her anus and insides ache, and whines escape her throat. But the faux rat hand kept encouragingly fingering her pussy at the same time, and the factory voice kept urging her to say 'no.'"

And when the goatcock pulled out and the fat bearcock tip touched her aching asshole, she managed to make herself squeak out, "Please no."

A blaze of shame at her own effrontery barraged her, the Rat Rule emphasizing just how improper such an act of defiance was. But the bearcock pulled away, and the faux rat hand kept rubbing her pussy - and then a warm, thick, *real* ratcock took its place. The faux hands moved to hold her mouth shut while a warm, *real* rat hand took over her masturbatory reward. "Very good girl," a warm, vibrant rat voice said, and she purred as the thrust of his cock into her rear soothed the wrongness of the earlier violations, just as his hand on her pussy calmed the disgust at the feel of the wolfcum inside her. "All the way to 'no' on your very first day. Very good girl."

She knew it wasn't a real rat this time either. That given her position on the conveyor belt, a real rat couldn't *fit* in place like that to be fucking her ass. That the factory was just using a much more realistic voice and simulated hands and faux ratcock to condition her. But her body and will couldn't believe that she wasn't being praised and rewarded by a real rat. She purred and happily came.

By the time the Brat Factory was done, four weeks later, she couldn't refrain from whining when told she had to go out naked in public, and earning herself a vigorous swat on the ass to get her out the door. She couldn't keep from blurting out, "I don't wanna!" in the face of the most modestly embarrassing of orders. And try as she might to control herself, she just kept finding herself descending into full-blown public spectacles of tantrums at least once a day. Much to her owner's delight, she earned herself a half-dozen full-on belt-spankings almost every day, making her whimper and submit properly for an hour or two afterward before the fun began again. And at least once a week, when he decided that a tantrum went too far, bending her over a table for ten swats between the legs was sure to have her bawling immediately and submissively whimpering for hours afterward.

She hated the tantrums, the loss of self-control they exposed, and she *really* hated the painful spanks to her crotch. But she had to admit - particularly when ordered to - that her new Brat status was wonderfully satisfying. The sharp whack on her ass felt so dominant, so assertive, so powerful, when making her go out the door stark naked. There was an illicit thrill any time her owner indulged her complaints and even refusals. And having his hand gripping her tail, pulling it up while his belt snapped across her ass, it just felt like such a comforting, commanding, potent restoration of how things *should* be. And having to bent over, some random passing rat's cock in her mouth, legs spread, tail high, presenting her freshly-reddened ass while humiliatedly fingering herself in full public view... well, that just felt so relaxing, so satisfying, to be allowed to stop struggling and be put back in her proper place again.

She got quite well known as the most magnificently misbehaved Brat in modern history. They had a special prize at the annual awards ceremony for slave-training that year. When they told her on stage that they were going to tattoo 'BEST BRAT' on her pussylips, she involuntarily threw the most spectacular tantrum ever recorded on camera. The audience roared their approval at the record-setting spankings fore and aft that finally got her into the chair with her ankles bound spread wide. And after her exposed privates were duly marked, they roared laughter as a trio of interspecies-trained wolf-slaves came in to finish the punishment, taking turns between her legs - and showing off how she whimpered and went beet-red as they made her climax in sheer embarrassment despite the alien wrongness of their feel inside her. And they applauded as the subdued dragoness went to all fours on command to let the two rat emcees take her mouth and ass while delivering the closing address.

She was the star attraction at the afterparty, too, bound on a mounting rack, blindfolded and muzzled. She couldn't keep herself from purring herself hoarse as rat after rat added his own heavy contribution between her legs, making her belly feel like it was sagging and sloshing before the first hour was out. Her head spun as those perfect cocks showed her over and over and over how many rats approved of her, rewarded her for being a good girl. After the first two she couldn't even bring to mind any thought about ever objecting to getting fucked over and over by people she couldn't even see.

The afterparty went on for three days of being fucked and praised. It took a *six* week refresher session in the Brat Factory to get her out of the resultant blissful compliance.