FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

Attitude Adjustment

By Feder

Their car pulled into the town of Sterling Grove just as the clock hit 12:00 p.m., as the DJ on the radio informed the two. They cut an odd couple, a wolf and a tiger both in their early 20's with nothing better to do than cruise around until summer ended. Thrash, the wolf, put a cigarette in his muzzle and flicked the lighter until it brought forth a decent enough flame to light up. He took a drag, then blew a plume of gray smoke in the face of the tigress, who took her paw off the steering wheel and waved it away, cursing at her passenger.

"Fucking hell, Thrash!" She growled, grimacing as the bitter taste of the smoke settled on her tongue. "I'm trying to drive here!"

The wolf smirked and took another drag, "Trying to drive... Good one, Wendy."

The tiger pouted, her claws digging into the steering wheel. "It's Wicked, for your information." She knew Thrash was just trying to get on her nerves; but hell, he was good at it. She glanced down at the fuel gage, the little arrow was getting uncomfortably close to the big red E and even if they had a full tank, she was getting hungry and it was almost sunset. They didn't really have anywhere to go, so she looked around for a place to stop as she drove through the quaint little town.Sterling Grove was the most square town either of them had ever seen, a seemingly endless desert of suburban sprawl, ornate white fences and verdant lawns separating the little houses; all of them so similar to each other that they looked churned out by some yuppie living-space factory. Finally, they reached a little rest stop, with a gas station and what looked like a small little diner right beside it. The car pulled towards it, a tank of gas and a hot meal and maybe the two could find something to do in this little slice of banality.

Thrash looked over to Wicked, who was drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, keeping time with the heavy rock song blaring on the radio. He was restless and bored,and most of all-horny. The crotch of his jeans had grown tight as his mind wandered past his usual fantasies and lingered on something he and Wicked haven't tried: Exhibitionism. As his tiger friend pulled into the gas station, he couldn't help but lick his lips at the idea. Wicked got out and started pumping gas, and Thrash leaned back in his seat, finishing his smoke and tossing the spent butt out the window.

"Whole town don't know we're coming," he said under his breath,reaching down to adjust his semi-erect bulge beneath his jeans as he got out of the vehicle. Wicked walked out of the gas station, having paid for a full tank and a six-pack of the cheapest beer she could find. The wolf saw the booze and felt himself getting excited.The two had a moment of unspoken understanding, Wicked knew Thrash was horny and Thrash knew Wicked was a sexual monster when hammered. Their tails practically intertwined as they walked in the directions of a small park ground a few blocks down, finding a place to crash could wait a little while.

"Let's do it on that bench over there," Wicked said, leading her partner over to a simple wooden bench not far off the park path. The tigress mouthed the word 'cowgirl' and Thrash nodded and grinned. He laid down on the bench, unzipping the fly of his jeans and sliding them part of the way down his legs. Wicked lifted her plaid skirt as she took her position astrid him, sliding her unwashed panties down her legs and tossing them aside.Thrash freed his erect cock from his briefs and the tigress slid down on top of it, letting out a lusty growl as it penetrated into her.

She bucked against his hips as he thrust up into her, smiling through her sharp teeth. "Alright, let's put on a show for these people," she giggled. "If you see a cop, don't stop alright?"

Thrash laughed, picking up a steady rhythm as Wicked rode him. They could hear commotion around them, only feeling more aroused at the upset they were causing. Even when the blue uniform of a police officer entered their peripheral vision, they were having too much fun. Even when he grabbed Wicked's arm, they were still riding that high.

"Show's over, kids." The officer said, a stern frown on his canine snout. " Get dressed and come along with me to the station."

Wicked scoffed, climbing off of her wolf friend and shooting the cop a middle finger . "Fuck off, copper. We were at the good part, too."

"Public indecency is a crime, young lady." The cop said, guiding the tigress to the patrol car while another officer dragged Thrash along, holding his nightstick under his chin to ensure begrudging compliance. The party was over.

---

They were sitting in their cell in the police station, fuming silently. The police officer that busted them approached with a stout red and white stallion dressed in a tan suit and red tie following behind him, a clipboard stacked with papers tucked neatly under his arm. The cop fumbled with his keys and slid the door open and the horse walked in, adjusting his tie with his free hand. Wicked glared up at him and Thrash rolled his eyes.

"Pardon me," The horse said. "I'm Dr. Jay, I'm appointed by the court to be your rehabilitation counsellor." He stuck out his hand for them to shake, and neither one took him up on the offer. Wicked glared up at him and Jay replied with a nervous chuckle.

"Right, since we couldn't find your permanent address... you'll be spending the next few weeks at my place, if you know what a house arrest is... it's like that."

"Fuck off." Thrash shot back. "The hell should we stay with you?"

"Well..." Jay said, stroking the underside of his muzzle. "It's either rehab and house arrest or you spend a couple months in jail."

Thrash opened his mouth to speak but Wicked cut him off. "We'll do it." The wolf turned to his cohort, mouth open in shock. Wicked looked over to him and held his mouth closed. "Thrash, come on. I'm not spending a month in fuckin' jail and this lawyer guy has to have a nice place. You follow me?"

Thrash nodded. Jay held the clipboard over, grinning. "Excellent, just sign these forms and we'll be on our way!" Wicked took the pen first, signing her name before handing the pen over to Thrash. The wolf punk wrote down a fairly obvious pseudonym, then handed the clipboard back to the horse. With a self-satisfied smirk, Jay adjusted his glasses and motioned for them to follow him out. "You've made the right choice, you both look rough around the edges but I really do think we can work through this."

Wicked smiled, thinking only of lounging around at the horse's McMansion and raiding his fridge. She looked over to Thrash, smirking as she said "Sure thing, mister." in a tone that almost seemed to add "you sucker" to it.

"Lovely" The stallion said, he waved the cop over, who had produced a bottle of some expensive-looking liquor from his desk and poured three glasses for them. He handed two of the glasses to Thrash and Wicked, with Jay taking the third. He raised the glass in a toast.

"To polite society!" He said, and they drank. Seconds after the punks had swallowed the earthy, slightly bitter drink, a feeling of drowsiness came upon them. Before they could realize they've been had, they were already unconscious.

---

Wicked woke up to the sensation of something tight around her neck. The tigress rolled over, paws feeling around her body, half awake. Her fingers traced around what was her neck. Whatever it was, it was made of a smooth plasticky material with a glass dot in front, kind of like a choker. She stood up and shuffled her way to a full-length dressing mirror on the other side of the unfamiliar room, and when she saw herself, she almost had a stroke. She had been stripped down to nothing but a little electronic collar and a pair of black, shiny panties with a little padlock symbol on them. Thrash, who was still sound asleep in the bed, was dressed exactly the same. "That mother fu..."

Before she could speak any further into what was going to be one of her hour-long profanity-laden angry rants, the light on her collar flash red and she heard a shrill beep, then a flash of pastel color and disorienting noise crashed through her mind, leaving her stunned and silent. "Wuh... uhh?" She mumbled, bracing herself against the wall to keep from dropping to the carpeted floor. She could hear a chipper, almost computerized-sounding voice inside her own head admonishing her.

"A good girl does not swear. You are being naughty. Being naughty makes you sad, being naughty makes your master disappointed in you. Happy master means happy good girl. "

"What are you..." The tigress shook her head. "Get outta my..."

"You are listed as being 'In Progress'. All In 'Progress' girls are monitored for naughty behavior and thoughts. This information is collected and reported to your Master. Thank you for choosing DomesTech Solutions."

"I didn't choose..." Wicked said, growling under her breath as she regained just enough of her composure to stand without leaning on the wall like a drunk. "Stop this. Whatever this is, just stop it!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't understand. Here is a list of available options: Request status and location of Master, View current version number, Update your chore list, or Enter sleep mode"

"Just get out of my head!" She yelled, balling her fists so tight that her claws dug into her palm.

"Now entering sleep mode"

Then, just like a switch being thrown, the tigress felt her eyes get heavy, her knees buckling under her. "No... I didn't...." Then she was out.

Wicked woke up some time later on the couch, sitting in a slouched position next to Thrash. They were still collared, they were still wearing those weird rubber panties; and standing in front of them was that asshole horse, Dr. Jay.

"Finally you're among the living, Wendy! Nice of you to join us."

"My name's fucking Wicked-" Another beep of the collar, another flash of color and noise.The stallion waggled his finger in the most enraging, condescending gesture of discipline.

"Ah ahhh, let's not use those words my dear! And you wrote on your form that your name was Wendy, so that is what was put in the system." His tail swished as he sat back down in the overstuffed armchair in front of them. "Now, you probably have some questions and I'm here to answer them, let's start with you, Wendy."

The tigress tugged at her panties, then looked back up at Jay with her best "I'm going to cut you" face and said: "So what's with the rubber underpants?!"

The horse snorted in an attempt to stifle a laugh. "Oh those! Those are your chastity devices. We can't have you doing naughty things without permission, after all. That's how rehabilitation is done: Discipline and delayed gratification!"

"So what do we do, then?" Thrash spoke up, the wolf feeling around his head for a surgical scar or anything that would explain the literal mindfuck he and Wendy- Wicked had just received. Nothing, just the collar and the panties that felt way, way too tight in the crotch for comfort.

"You're going to get dressed, as a start" Jay said. "Your outfits are in the guest room, then we'll discuss your chores for today." Jay said with a self-satisfied chortle.

Wicked snarled softly and walked back to the guest room, Thrash following closely behind, grabbing at his crotch and whimpering under his breath. If he was already edging that hard, it would be a long, long day indeed.

Inside the guest room was... a pair of sheer white nylons laying folded neatly on the bed next to two folded sheets of brightly colored... rubber? One blue with white polka dots, the other a solid pink color. Wicked wrinkled her tiger nose in disgust as she walked over, picking the blue thing up. It was a dress, a rubber dress designed like some total pervert's idea of a 1950's era dress, with a skirt and a plunging neckline. Did that asshole horse seriously expect them to wear this? He could at least have lubed them up first and...

The tigress shook her head, growling softly. She didn't know where the hell that thought came from, all the more reason to find a way to get the hell out of here before this situation got any stranger. "Alright..." She said to herself. "Chores... just do the chores and keep Thrash from fucking it up and we..." Her collar buzzed, she tensed herself in preparation but it was little use. She fell forward onto the bed with a heavy thump. Her eyes glazed over as her vision became a sea of color and sound... she was only barely aware of her wolf friend walking into the room. He took the pink dress and pulled it up over his head, squeezing into it. The dress squeaked and creaked as Thrash fit into it, moaning as he did. Wicked knew that kind of moaning well, was he getting off to this?! She rolled over, sitting up on the bed and shaking the daze out of her head. She only then became aware of a cool, smooth tightness around her bust and waist, something around her legs ending at just above the knee...

She looked down, and saw that she was in the blue rubber dress, the one with polka dots, the one that seemed to push her breasts up in just such a way as to make them look bigger than they actually were. Did she put it on when she was out? She turned to look at Thrash, who sat himself down on the other side of the bed and... did he lose height? The tigress blinked, making sure she wasn't seeing things but sure enough Thrash was shorter than before, and his fur was lighter in color, different in texture... more wavy than bristly. Wicked watched in baffled silence as her friend lifted on leg up and gently slipped on one of the white stockings, moaning softly as the silky, shiny fabric glided up his leg. He wiggled his toes , snugging and tugging the dark gray toes so they fit just right. Then, he put the other on. Wicked couldn't help but smirk as he acted like one of those models in lingerie commercials, the gestures were feminine in a very sex-appeal way. That fucking horse was getting off to this, he had to be. Her cheeks burned at the thought of them, her especially, being made to act like feminine little toys for his perverse, sexist amusement. Who the... the heck did he think he was? As if being collared, being put in rubber chastity panties, and being forbidden to swear wasn't degrading enough.

She looked over at the remaining pair. Wicked knew what she had to do, was forced to do.She took the stockings and lifted her legs up. As she tried to shove them on, something stopped her. A little voice saying 'Do it right.' echoed in her head.Biting her lower lip and blushing with rage, Wicked slipped them on, feeling a tingle as she did so. It felt good, but it was just the fabric she insisted to herself. It wasn't that she liked it... it wasn't that she was getting wet... she kept insisting this mentally but she didn't convince herself. As she slipped the other one on, she caught herself breathing heavily, the kind of breathing one had when excited about something private and naughty. Her mind had been compromised, she didn't know how the fucking sexist asshole horse did it or how it was at all possible, but she knew that he was in her head pulling strings. She had to get out of here, and she had to get him out of her mind.

She stood up, instinctively smoothing and straightening out her dress and then she stood up off the bed... and into a pair of glossy blue high-heels she didn't see before. With a yelp, she staggered forward until regaining her balance. She had never worn heels before, always considered them to be stupid little hobbling devices forced on ladies by clothing designers and male-dominated society. There were a couple soft little clicks as the ankle clasps fastened themselves shut. No way in...no way in the world was she wearing these things. The tigress softly snarled to herself as she reached down to unfasten the silver clasps. When her claw tips reached the straps, she felt an electric surge run up her back, followed by the sinking feeling one got in their stomach when caught doing something they weren't supposed to.

"Wendy does not have permission to take off her heels." A voice in her head said. "If she persists, disciplinary action will be taken."

Thrash was looking at her funny, he had a pair of shiny yellow heels on, they were a simple design, with open toes and thin heels that made the wolf's legs look quite a bit more feminine, so much so that Wendy...Wicked suspected it wasn't just the heels doing that. Was it... possible to emasculate someone like that? To turn someone as crass and masculine as Thrash and turn them into a mincing drag queen? Wicked forced the thought out. She didn't want to know, She didn't ever want to know. Thrash walked over and eyed her with an expression of slightly befuddled concern that the wolf normally only expressed when the tigress was too wasted to drive the two of them home from a pub crawl.

She huffed desperately to draw in air. Situation fucked up, there was the dawning panic that came with realizing just how fucked a situation is, something truly awful had come their way. They weren't model citizens sure, but even at their worst Wendy couldn't bring to mind anything bad enough for her to deserve the hostage situation she and Thrash were in. "We gotta get our chores done," she heard Thrash say. The tigress wasn't much for housekeeping like ever, but she nodded and followed him out of the bedroom. It wasn't like she had a choice in the matter and it wasn't like things could get worse if she complied. The horse might even let them go if he thinks they've worked hard enough, or so she told herself.

They to the locker room with slow steps, still not used to walking in heels. The closet had everything a live-in maid would ever need, and Wendy noticed that even a slob wolf like Thrash knew what they needed for the job at hand. Two feather dusters, two spray bottles of lemon scented cleaner, one for furniture and one for glass. "Be nice if we were getting paid," the tigress mumbled to herself. The voice came back, letting her know that "good wives don't get paid." Wendy growled and shook her head. She was a housewife. But that wasn't what she thought, she in truth knew she wasn't a free-spirited rebel but a housewife. Thrash was looking at her again, whimpering softly in concern. How was it even possible to lose control of one's own thoughts?

"God, I'd give anything for things to be normal." Wendy said to herself as she spritzed some glass cleaner on a rag Thrash handed to her and wiped down an antique mirror in the hall. Wendy's expression soured when her cleaning revealed her reflection gawking back at her. Her rich orange fur had lost some of its vibrancy, like she was a poster in a shop window and the sun had bleached the color out. Even the deep black of her stripes was washed out into a coal gray, and there were little streaks of pure white in her fur. Not just on her face, she could see little streaks of snowy white running down her neck... on her arms.

She felt dizzy all of a sudden. The more she looked at herself in the mirror, the more she noticed little things that were different, things that were wrong. She had lost muscle definition, she looked shorter even in her high heels. Her short, spiky hairdo was growing out into soft locks. She felt sick to her stomach, and the feeling got even strong when she turned to look at her wolf friend. Thrash was sporting the same flecks and streaks of white in his fur, the places where he had allowed it to grow out were taking on a curly texture. "Are you okay?" he said, and his canine visage was at that moment more like the soft countenance of a domesticated dog. Wendy had lost a few inches but Thrash had caught up to her in height lost. His hips filled out in his shiny dress, his arms having gone from angular and muscled to slender and delicate. Suddenly, Wendy felt something give. She dropped the rag, hearing herself cry out as she broke into a desperate and directionless run. This was a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare. She hadn't gotten far when her collar buzzed, and a flash of energy brought her stumbling to her knees. She felt her body come down like a load of rocks. Her throat was dry and her eyes were stinging, and for the first time in countless years the tigress was crying. It all was simply too much. She knelt there in the carpet and wept. Even when she heard someone approach her from behind, she was still crying.She didn't care about her punk image anymore, she just wanted it to stop. Everything, the changes, the horse, the captivity. Even knowing Thrash was going through the same thing, she felt utterly alone. The presence behind her spoke up, it was the horse. Of course it was the horse.

"Trying to run away, are we?" His voice had only the barest hint of mockingness, instead there was a paternalistic, patriarchal concern that felt to her like even more of an insult.

"I know it's not easy for you." He said, putting down his big, strong hand and petting her gently on the head like she was nothing more than a confused kitten. "But rules are rules, and you've broken the rules just now." And what he said next struck the tigress.

"You'll just have to be disciplined." And so he took her by the arms and lifted her up like she was weightless, Wendy felt like a ragdoll as he eased her up to her shaking legs. The word disciplined echoed through her head like a shout in an empty hallway. She should have been angry, she wanted more than anything to feel anger but there wasn't any there, not anymore. Instead she was afraid, afraid and ashamed. It was a heavy and incontrovertible shame, impossible for her to argue with or push back against. It was her fault, and even though a tiny and dwindling voice in her head fought against it, her sense of guilt was a suffocating weight in her mind. She had been naughty. She needed to be disciplined.

She looked up at him. Jay was walking her along. Wendy looked to the side, they were going down a hall towards a door with a 'Do not Disturb' sign hanging from the knob. She knew somehow that it was the stallion's room, a place where she would be helpless even as a captive in this house.

" It's for your own good, missy." Jay said, and when Wendy tried to speak; he placed a gentle finger over her lips "No, no need to thank me. I've done this a lot."

The tigress closed her eyes as he pushed the door open for her, placing his hand on the small of her back and gently pushing her inside.

"It'll be a couple lessons and then you can listen to what I say." Jay said.

It was easier to listen to him. In her shocked state, Wendy felt so out of it that she almost welcomed anything that would just get it over with nice and quick. She felt his hands close around her neck, craning her head up gently for a brief second.

With a soft click, the tigress noticed he wrapped something around her neck. With a flutter of her eyelashes, she opened her eyes to look at what it was.

It was a...leather collar? For real? Wendy gripped the tag and squinted to read the engraved script. ? 'Wendy' ? It was her name? She glanced back up to the stallion for an explanation.

"You look cute." was all he said to the feline.

Inside, there were several wads of sheer brown nylon on the bed. Next to them was a leash and a selection of rubber ball gags in every color of the BDSM rainbow. Jay cleared his throat authoritatively, shoving the tigress forward with one hand while loosening his tie with the other. Wendy's thoughts raced back to when they first met. So... the nice guy persona was an act, or was it? Was Wendy going crazy?

Before Wendy could ask what was going on, Jay hooked the leash to the metallic pin of her collar and used it to shove her down onto the soft bed. The tigress stumbled to regain her footing, but the horse had no intention of letting her. Another shove and she was down on the bed with a thumb, her high heels coming off and bearing her soft nylon-clad feet paws, the toes wiggling in an unintentionally enticing action.

With a stern and yet still gentle voice, he spoke to her.

"I know you've been starved for affection and discipline your entire life. Well, listen to me, and listen to me carefully, love. Only naughty kitties deserve what I'm about to do to you. Everything that's happened has been your fault, but I forgive you for everything. You may have guessed I'm not exactly here to play therapist for you, but don't worry. I'll make sure you're something I can present to polite society." ? Wendy laid on the bed, stunned and silent. She didn't know what to say as he grabbed a cherry red ball gag from the bed, forcing open her muzzle with his other hand. As he pushed the rubber ball into her mouth and fastened the straps, Wendy felt weird. Her feminine sex had come alive, aching dully in pleasure, in need. She guessed it was just the fact that she was being dominated by a big, strong stallion, but she wasn't like that. As bad as it was, she could have endured, but only if she wasn't feeling her body aching and hot and practically crying out for him.

The stallion turned back to the door and placed his hand on the knob.He turned and looked back at her, ears twitching as he could definitely hear the frustrated, needy moan that the gesture elicited. " Wrap yourself up, dear. I'm going to get myself and your little friend ready. Don't make me do any extra work, now." He walked out, closing the door firmly behind him and Wendy was already at work, starting by shoving the ball gag in her mouth, the thick ball spreading her soft lips apart as she fastened the straps with a click. There might have been a cry of resistance in her mind, but she couldn't resist, she was wound up and needing release and positively aching all over.

The tigress took a deep breath and took a single stocking and slipped it over her head. Her joints were cracking softly with her every move, she knew she was shrinking...changing, but she was powerless to do anything about it, such a needy weak kitten. She grabbed a pair of nylon pantyhose and worked her legs into them, she was already wearing a pair of stockings but she somehow knew Master Jay...no her captor wanted her totally encased. She took another stocking and knotted it around her ankles, then used another pair to layer over her torso, binding her ample breasts. Wendy wriggled around, taking another pair of tights and sticking her arms in the legs, leaving just enough slack material to loop around and tie behind her back. With the deed done, she was totally encased in shiny brown nylon. For an agonizingly long few moments, she squirmed and thrashed about on the bed; driven half-mad with pent up need.

Suddenly, the tigress heard the sound of the door opening, she looked up at saw Jay strolling in. The stallion was dressed in a shiny suit of black rubber, covering his body and accentuating his toned muscles and soft midsection. Next to him was Thrash, missing his dress and wrapped up in nylon just as she was. But even through the translucent white nylon coating him, Wendy could see that he was changing just like her. His muscles were gone, his body slimmed down into a girlish figure.

His fur was solid white, delicately curly. As Jay pushed him onto the bed, Thrash looked bewilderedly at Wendy, who could only return the stare. The canine squirmed closer to her, his whimpering muffled with a gag made from the stallion's necktie. The stallion stood over them, the mouth hole of his suit framing his lusty grin. The former wolf muffled out a meek little whine, and all Wendy could focus her attention on was that enormous bulge in the crotch of the rubber suit.

"Now Bijou, Wendy... this is for your own good." Jay said, and neither of the two liked the maniacal gleam in his eye as he said so.

The stallion's tail flicked back and forth, eyes scanning between Wendy and... Bijou?... Wendy shook her head. God, she was so horny. The deliberate way Master Jay was deciding which of them to deflower first... Wendy was almost certain that was part of the pony boy's sadistic game. She hated him, but why did she want him so? Thrash...Bijou squirmed next to her again, moaning and whimpering. Nylon on nylon shuffling together, both of the domestic slaves feeling their arousal feeding into each other. Her mind was racing. She muffled out an incoherent plea to the horse through her gag.

The stallion knelt on the bed. He gripped Wendy's neck and pulled her up to face him, he was so strong but yet so gentle even as a disciplinarian. She could feel the rubber glove on her cheek even through the nylon covering her. She was ready for him, but not for what the stallion said next .

"Wendy my dear... you get to watch me put your friend in his place."

What?! He was just going to leave her hanging? The feline thrashed and moaned as Jay let her down, turning his attention-and his grabby hands- to Th... Bijou. She caught herself feeling jealous, jealous of her friend for being the first to receive Master's love and discipline. But no! She was slipping away. More and more of herself drifting under Master's spell. But... she couldn't fight it, how could she? It would be so much easier, so much more satisfying to give in, give in to domestic bliss. Cooking and cleaning and consortium, that's the life. Wendy snapped out of her daydream to watch the stallion raise and lift Bijou's legs up in the air. Master reached down, and with a pull of a zipper his cock hung erect and aimed at the newly-made poodle boi's rump.

He pulled the nylon out of the way, took a deep breath, and speared his full length into the canine. Bijou cried out, Wendy flinched as she watched, but she felt jealous still. The poodle's face was contorted in pain and shock, but there was unmistakably pleasure in his face. The stallion's pace was initially slow, but with every thrust he picked up into a heated, bestial rhythm. Wendy could only watch as her needy, hopeless loins kept her on the edge of absolute desperate madness.

"Oh darlin'. You look like this is the biggest cock you've ever had in your life" Master Jay said with a grin. Bijou yipped into his gag and shivered, moaning a little higher as each new inch slid in and out, in and out into his eager form. The rubber-clad stallion was getting rougher with the poodle, yanking his legs higher up in the air as he repeatedly hilted inside his virgin pucker. His thrusts were rhythmic and forceful like an industrial piston. As he fucked Bijou, he playfully groped and squeezed the canine boi's bulge, now diminished in size, serving only as a petite reminder of the effeminate slave-wife's gender.

Bijou's eyes rolled back in his head as he moaned in delighted bliss, his rear gyrating back unconsciously against his Master's rod. He was being used as a mere toy for Master's pleasure but that only felt natural, his hole massaging his perfect Master's cock inch by inch as it was stroked in and out of his warm rear. As Jay pumped his little sissy wife, he gripped the back of his head and eased him forward until their lips met, kissing and licking at the poddle boi's face and lips. In the disciplinary process, it was important to make a new slave feel wanted...even loved.

And it was clear Bijou felt that, the new slave-wife looking so happy, so utterly satisfied he could scarcely contain himself, moaning and yipping in delighted huffs with each pump inside his waiting hole.

"Uf... so close..." Jay groaned, his cock leaking hot pre inside Bijou. The poodle took this as a challenge, working his hips to clench and release around that shaft so deep, pulsing up and down the shaft as his insides massaged it tenderly, working it, milking it.

"Aaaa...Aaaaaah!" The stallion cried out, sending a massive, surging rope of his seed deep inside the eager slave-wife's hole. Bijou let out a howl of a moan, arching his back as she felt that hot spunk flood her little hole. Riding out in the shuddering bliss of his own orgasm as she gave in fully to the blissful love of his Master. Wendy could only watch in desperate, needling jealousy. Why couldn't she have been first?

Master pulled out of her friend, the head of his cock still dripping cum. He looked down at the white-furred cat, her red eyes gazing longingly at that immense rod. The stallion knowingly smiled at her, knowing she was utterly broken. He had her under his thumb, his work was done. He shifted his weight and sidled over to take position on top of her, Wendy's little heart skipping a beat as he gripped her shoulders and teased her moist, needy slit with the tip of his cock.

"Good girl. Since you've clearly learned your lesson, I'm going to teach you how you girls are supposed to behave in this town."

And as he slid into her, Wendy cried out in sheer joy. Her heart was singing, What he would do to her on that bed would be the best thing she had ever felt.

---

It was such a lovely day. The sun was out, and there was not a single cloud in the blue sky. Wendy admired the weather outside from the kitchen window as she prepared breakfast. Master Jay's work gave him quite an appetite, and she understood that she and Bijou were to have it and his coffee on the table at 8:00 exactly. Her shiny rubber dress subtly creaked and squeaked as she worked. It and her nylon stockings were warm in the early Summer heat, but it wasn't her comfort that mattered. No, it was for Master. Everything was for Master. Bijou entered the room, gripping his feather duster and smiling vapidly as he floated around the room dusting. The poodle was dressed exactly like she was, Master had told them to dress in matching outfits and Master was always right.

The two looked at each other, their eyes meeting as they shared a moment of perfect understanding. This was the best life a pair of silly little pets could ever hope for... but there was something else. Wendy noticed just the barest hint of sadness in Bijou's blue eyes, and the poodle noticed the same in Wendy's own ruby-red eyes. There was a brief moment of concern, what was wrong? Their ears perked up to hear the Master's heavy hoofs carrying him down the stairs and the thought was banished from their heads.

"Good morning, dears!" He called to them, and they both responded at the exact same time, their voices in unison saying: "Good morning, Master!"

Breakfast was ready, their wifely bodies moved as if clockwork, setting out the bacon and eggs and pouring the coffee exactly as Master liked it. Today was another perfect day.