It was hot, the leaves had lain on the ground for a few weeks now, and with the disappearing of the leaves everyone began bulking up a winter coat. The asylum also rotated out it's lighter clothing, replacing everything with winter weight versions. From the pants, shirt and socks, to even the... other apparel, all of them helped to keep the patients warm through the cold months.

Something was afoot considering the staff didn't give him the normal thermal regulation undersuit, rather, just the normal heavy winter clothing. he was forced into a straitjacket he'd never seen before, it must have weighed three times a normal jacket, clearly a winter weight one as well. There were no tags, no name patches or ward identification patches anywhere to be found. The staff looped it around the usual places and tightened the sleeves. Fighting back was useless, just as useless as trying to tell anyone that the stupid fox kept biting herself, yet blaming him. They didn't even look at the bite mark, just grabbed him when she had pointed the finger.

He stared a distant glance at the muzzle hovering near his nose, the feline staff member waving it purposefully in such a way that told him she loved this way too much. It was heavier, thicker and more bulbous than the normal ones he was fitted with, probably heavy winter weight as well. It did have the familiar hug though, stretching around his nose bridge and clamping tightly as to stifle any speech. He sighed as the rear buckle was latched and locked shut, pulling the muzzle into it's proper position. None of this was coming off any time soon.

The staff checked his 'hygene' apparatus, a nanite silicone pad that covered his bits and tail hole that served as non invasive plugs for any waste. Seeing as it was secure, they hobbled his ankles with thick neoprene cuffs, locking them shut. He was then transported to one of isolation cells furthest back from the hall entrance.

That was a while ago. There was no real way to keep track of time, and the 'daily' feed and waste removal began to feel more like every other day. He struggled every time the door let any light in, tugging at firm sleeves and kicking tough hobbles, he was paid attention for the required period of time then left alone in the dark again.

Between the struggling and the ever fluctuating temperature, he began to feel dirty. Sweat pooled around his collar, arm pits, hands and crotch, seeping through the thick shirt and heavy canvas, discoloring the areas. The wet muzzle clung tightly to his maw, an irritated huff sending a droplet of sweat through the nose holes began to build up. He'd move as much as possible, lifting his arms up every once and a while to let cool air wash over the soaked fabric. Everything felt disgusting, clingy and stiff, sweat evaporating to leave the oils behind, becoming wet again shortly after, then drying to inundate the apparel with grunge.

The viewing window slid open, sending a piercing ray of light to blind him. He couldn't see who it was, or much of anything at all, but a voice did speak.

"Halfway done. I hope you learn your lesson this time." the voice said, almost... smiling behind the words.

He didn't respond, just stare into the blinding ray on his face. Nothing was said in the empty space leaving the window to close abruptly as it opened. He sighed, tired, dirty, hot and worn out, he began to consider actually biting the damned fox... show the staff what a kangaroo bite actually looks like amongst the clearly canine sets in her hide.

Another bead of sweat rolled down his nose, getting blown out the breathing holes and down onto the chest arm loop. If it weren't for the heat this would at least be tolerable...