FSE

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I always said my nose would never steer me wrong. I'm a beagle; we're born to scent things out. There are a few life paths where a sense of smell will serve you well, but I always wanted to join the police--all the stories about good cops when I was a pup and all the stories about bad cops as I grew up strengthened my will to go and make a difference for the better in the community.

And today was my first night out of training, my first night patrolling on my own.

It was quiet, as I'd come to expect it; Hollymede was the kind of place you'd call a bedroom community, and for the most part folks stuck to their bedrooms.

My first call didn't come till shortly after one, just as the smaller of the two bars in town was closing: there was a report of a male boar who was causing a disturbance--he'd probably had a bit too much and was tearing the place up.

By the time I arrived, though, the place was empty--certainly all the bar's patrons had gone, and most of the employees had left, aside from a cheetah that had started to sweep up shards of glass. ("I didn't see which way he went," he said, "but he only left a minute ago.")

The scent of him was still strong in the air.

I left the bar and chased after it.

---

The trail was distinctive, an almost familiar sort of musk in the air that led down the sidewalk, past the nearby shops, and into a little walled park with a statue of the Last Witch.

And there the trail went dead. Had I gone the wrong way? I tried retracing my steps, but my nose was sure: he had to have come here.

The park was too thick with the smell of him, though, to get a sure sense of where he might be hiding; a search behind every bush and object found no trace of him--until I noticed that his scent was flowing into the park through the part of the fence I was standing beside: there was a hidden gate he'd gone through.

I followed his trail down cobblestones to the portico of a plantation house in the shadow of a forest of sassafras. I'll admit I wasn't all that easy with barging into houses yet--especially a nice place like this--but I was in hot pursuit. The door was unlocked, at least, and I followed the scent of pork through hallways and around corners and down two flights of stairs, where a basement lay in darkness.

I was carrying a flashlight with me; it didn't illuminate any light switches, but there were a couple of handy candles by the entrance. I decided to stick with the flashlight and proceeded to follow the boar's scent into the basement.

The trail was getting stronger; I knew he must still be here. Yet the basement was as palatial as the rest of the place, and while it may not have been packed full of junk, the extent of the shelving was surely enough for the place to be considered a maze.

I grumbled--this was taking too long, and if he knew this place he'd be able to maneuver his way around me and escape while I was checking every sidepath for him. I was all set to go back the way I came so I could get cell signal and call for backup when I turned the corner and found myself face-to-face, so to speak, with a corkscrew of a penis that had to be ten inches long.

Someone was sitting in a raised seat above me, their thick shaft and balls hanging out of a pair of dress pants. I say 'someone'--somehow I found myself unable to lift my eyes to look. The Cock was all I could see; the Cock was all I could smell. It was the smell I'd been chasing, which must have meant I wanted it--a musk that demanded my service, a Cock that demanded to be spelled with a capital C.

Yes. Service. I had to submit.

I approached the Cock, inhaling deeper the power of a male's sweat and sex in a daze that overwhelmed all other thought.

I wanted to taste it. I wanted it to own me. I wanted--

---

I didn't reach the Cock before I blacked out. It wasn't the first time it had happened--sensory overload is definitely a thing when you're super-sensitive to stimuli. But I knew I'd be in trouble for it happening while I was on the job, because my suspect had gotten away.

I trudged back to the police station, defeated.

The officer on duty at the front desk stopped me before I could head in to fill out my report: "Hey, who do you think you are? You don't belong back here."

I didn't want to beat up on him for not recognizing me--I myself am not so good at faces as much as smells, and even there it's easy to mix up someone you haven't seen often. I reached for my badge to show my qualifications, but found it missing.

"I need Cock," I said.

Those words were entirely unlike what I'd intended to say. I'd been going to say something about my badge, hadn't I?

"Sorry," I said. "I just need Cock. So badly."

I couldn't believe the words coming out of my mouth. I tried reaching instead for a pad of paper, but by the time I'd finished writing what I'd thought were coherent notes about what I'd just gone through, I found that somehow it had all metamorphosed into a heartfelt yet desperate plea to suck the poor cat's Cock.

"I dunno who you are, dude, but this is neither the time nor place for this kind of thing. Are you going to leave, or will I have to get some officers in here to drag you out?"

I shook my head and left. I didn't know what was happening, but I did have sense enough to realize I wasn't going to be able to make any progress here if I couldn't even communicate.

As soon as I went out the door, I caught the scent again. This time, knowing what it was, my eagerness to hunt it down was multiplied--I needed to find whoever it was that had scrambled my brain, catch them and start sucking their Cock like a good dog.

I noticed the stray thoughts and tried to clear my head. I didn't really need to suck Cock like a good dog. I just needed to suck Cock like a good dog, that was all. Yeah. It didn't even have to be his. But... his was nearby...

I followed the scent to the corner of the building, and followed it into a well-lit alley whose rear couldn't be seen from the street.

And there it was, the Cock. As soon as I saw it, everything else faded in importance--my job, my surroundings, even the male it must've belonged to--I approached and knelt before it, eager to serve.

"Hey, rookie," said a voice from somewhere above me. "Find something you were looking for?"

"Cock..." I was drooling, maw slightly open, eager to take it in.

"Eyes up here, pup."

I was able to pull my gaze from the Cock's thickness and up at its owner--surely the boar I'd been tracking.

It was the fuckin' chief of police, clearly out to have a quick piss behind the precinct.

He put a paw on the back of my head and stuffed that Cock into my muzzle. "I caught you before you caught me, rookie...and with me behind a desk these past ten years, doesn't look like you're cut out for the force. I may have another use for you though..."

He slammed his Cock further down my throat, pinning me against the wall of the station as he started to thrust into me. "More than just some holes to get off in, though. Maybe something more useful..."

Most of his speech was lost on me; even though I couldn't get any air around the Cock in my muzzle and the flesh under his belly was obstructing my breathing, my mind was scrambled by his musk.

"I'll give you a load," he said, pressing my head into his crotch to emphasize, "And then, well, let's make it a surprise."

I gripped his hips to keep myself stable as his thrusting became more frenzied, the big boar panting hard as he worked himself towards his peak. That corkscrew shaft wormed its way down my throat with every thrust, the scent and taste of sweat and sex burning themselves into me.

It was important to serve that musk--even more important than being able to breathe it in. When he pushed in deep, holding my head flush against his crotch as his Cock blocked my throat, I knew that the musk was working on a deeper level. And as that Cock pulsed, depositing its load straight down my gullet, the tingle of an impending change ran through my whole body.

The seed of the change that he'd just filled my belly with had an even more powerful musk than the boar himself--enough that I could even smell it from deep inside me. I knew somehow that being full of that musk was the same as being that musk; I was just a container for it, and it would be a shame for that musk to be contained, to be bottled up instead of being unleashed on the world.

The intensity of my arousal moved me to reach down and stroke myself, but when my hand reached my groin I was unable to find the Cock I would need to sate that desire.

The urge to let the musk out grew, even as I found the outlet missing. The boar pulled out and I gazed, fixated, at the still-hard member, the scent of my saliva adding yet another layer to his Cock's potent aroma.

"I need to serve," I said. "I need to let the musk out. I need to... to be the musk..."

"Good boy. It's already happening, isn't it?" The chief reached a hand down as if to stroke my headfur, but it passed through my head with no resistance, displacing my substance as if it were smoke.

It was an illusion, I thought, watching myself continue to shift in the breeze. I thought I was still a beagle, but I'm not anymore. I... I'm one with the musk now...

And... I know where I belong.

I floated up in the wind, engulfing the Cock that had remade me, strengthening the musk it already had with what was left of me. All he thought I was good for.

And I was going to be great at it.