FSE

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Master

Carl stroked Everett's mane while the VR headset he wore loaded the program. He knew his son was too exhausted to try and fight it off of him, but he took the extra precaution to tighten the straps. The tablet in his paw displayed what Everett was seeing as well as a console box. There would be some adjustments needed, but he was sure that he could tweak the code in just the slightest ways to make it do what he wanted.

"Mmmm," Everett whined through the gag, clearly not a fan of being left in the dark with the only light being the green text of the title screen.

Carl continued to stroke him on the wooden horse. His son's arms fought to rise, but the restraints kept him from going anywhere. Even if Everett could get off the bench, the caning he just gave him left his soles bloody and torn. Carl wouldn't let him leave, not just because he was punishing him but for his own good. "Hang in there kiddo. Let Daddy handle this." he said with another pat, mostly cooled down now that he had got out most of his frustration.

A half hour passed before Carl felt confident enough reworking his own code. The attention killed his erection, but he was still excited to see what he could do. It wasn't like this had never crossed his mind prior. Jafari had accidentally stumbled upon the idea only to bring up the ethics of it. He had to assure the giraffe that it wasn't actually possible. Even if it was, he'd never allow for the programming to be used in such a way. Now, just a keystroke away, he'd really see if that was true.

"Alright, Everett. Just do as the prompts tell you to. No falling asleep on me, alright? Love you, Kiddo," Carl said, planting a kiss on his son's brow before hitting the enter key.

Everett started to panic immediately, all four of his limbs stretching against the restraints. He could sense that Carl was leaving and noisily protested. At least, that's what he guessed the kid was freaking out about. Everything that went through the ring gag was mostly garbled. Carl tweaked his son's ear with his claws just hard enough to get a yipe.

"Drama queen, I'm gonna be right upstairs."

Everett sobbed openly again as the maned wolf walked away. His son repeated something and when Carl finally managed to make out the most of it, he turned back at the basement door. "I know you'll be good. Show me," was all he said before he left the basement with the tablet in hand.

He looked down at the screen, turning his arm back and forth in discomfort. It weighed a half pound more than the broken one, which felt like working with something from the distant past. God, he was going to miss that tablet and his rival at Zephyr was not going to let him live it down. And that'll be the worst part if he doesn't also bill him for the damn thing like the asshole he waas.

Getting up to the top of the stairs, he was reminded that a broken tablet wasn't the only thing that his son was responsible for. Beer bottles, pizza boxes, food containers, and a whole mess of party cups were in every single location of his house. He pulled out his phone, swiping in a pattern, entering in a six digit password, and finally allowing it to look at his muzzle, whiskers, and eyes just to unlock it. Pulling up his apps, he found one titled CleanUp and brought up the services.

He was about ready to order a rush job when he made out the faintest whine seep through the cracks of his floorboards. Carl's large ears perked up, listening carefully and turning to the door behind him. It was closed shut. There should be no way that anything could be heard from the basement. Layers of concrete and fiberglass that he paid contractors a hefty amount to install should have completely sealed up the room. A grenade going off wouldn't rattle a glass in the kitchen.

Sure enough though, when he bent over to the ground, he caught a distinct high pitched squealing coming from the floor. "Mother fucker," Carl cursed, getting sidetracked for a second realizing he was the actual mother fucker of this situation, but still! Not even tens of thousands of dollars worth of insulation and architectural design could keep in the piercing cry of the whimpering, Everett Samuel Flacks.

There'd be no way he'd risk a maid asking questions about the screaming boy in the basement. Closing the app, he shrugged his shoulders and laughed it off. It was a little funny that his son's bitching was able to break through the basement. Also, it wasn't so bad to have to do his own chores every now and then. Heck, when Whitney was carrying Everett, he was scrubbing dishes at a Peppered Patty's while learning to code. It might be good for him to get his paws dirty every now and then.

Carl propped the tablet up on a table and started with the bottles first. He was kind of glad that he was the one that got to throw away all the bottles himself anyways. Trusting Everett to put them all into the blue bin was asinine. He'd always find glass in the green and black bins placed carelessly. Maybe carelessly. There was always a suspicion that he specifically put them in the wrong bins just to piss him off. If the programming worked, training him to properly recycle was going to be on the list.

As he gathered up the bottles throughout the house, he'd peek on the program to see how far Everett had made it through the SeetherSoft Virtualware. The grass field that laid out on the screen swung around back and forth while green text flashed:

P L E A S E S T A R E AT T H E D O O R T O PROCEED

P L E A S E S T A R E AT T H E D O O R T O PROCEED.

P L E A S E S T A R E AT T H E D O O R T O PROCEED.

Fuck. After fifteen minutes, Everett hadn't even managed to get past the retinal calibration screen yet. Carl could tell with how rapidly the screen was flailing that his son was trying to fling the headset off of him.

It wouldn't matter though, because he was damn sure that the straps weren't going to give way. Carl's biggest fear was that his son would figure out that he could possibly bash the VRheadset against the wooden horse enough times to cause some damage, but he was sure he didn't have the willpower to actively hurt himself trying to turn it off. No matter. The virtualware was programmed to adjust for shifty users and it'd slowly close off the edges until the door was inescapable. Funnily enough, the feature was Hugo's design to help center those experiencing panic.

An hour passed picking up trash and throwing them away. Of course his own room had been violated among every other room in the house. No one, not even Everett (especially Everett) was allowed in his room. Thankfully, no one had thought to touch his laptop on his desk. He would have known if anyone tried to log into anything because it would have been a smoldering piece of plastic after too many failed login attempts. Thinking about the fact that his son broke so many rules made him anxious to see how far along he'd gotten.

Racing back to the tablet, the programming did exactly what he suspected it would do. Whether by design of the program or of his own free will, Everett passed through the door and was finishing up putting a basketball through a hoop. He had to hold the ball with his eyes while turning his head to let the environment move. Little did he know that as he focused, beams of light were being shot straight into own brain.

It was unnoticeable to Everett and he might have thought that he was just playing a game to keep him occupied. If the boy had listened to anything he'd said, he might have a clue as to what Carl had been doing this entire time. Sure, he could certainly beat in some obedience and subservience into his son, but he didn't write some of the most advanced coding in the world to let a paddle do all the work. He really wanted to see if he could rewire the boy into being his personal slave.

W A T C H T H E B U T T E R F L I E S U N T I L T H E Y ' R E G O N E

Butterflies in every color floated along the tablet, but Everett made no attempts to follow the instructions. It was going to take a long time though and as exciting as it was to see it work, he still had urges to take care of. Even after all the edging and teasing he'd done to himself, he still hadn't actually finished himself off. Writing the code distracted him enough to keep his mind occupied, but the cleaning wasn't quite as enthralling. Now, into his sectional couch with some time on hand, he grabbed the tablet, minimizing Everett's progress.

Still ever cautious, he flipped open his browser and pulled up his favorite website. Not the amatuer websites with some sissy husky boy getting his rump half-heartedly spanked half-palmed by a bear. Not something where the camera would be ever so slightly crooked as it captured a gator railing a dingo tied with department store rope. Carl wasn't interested in some bimbo bunny begging for cummies in a poorly lit bedroom with his voice low to avoid his parent's ears.

No, he wanted to see the real shit. Well, at least the stuff that wasn't a bunch of twenty somethings playing with webcams. Twstd dot com was the exclusive premium website that hosted thousands of high quality BDSM videos. It cost him a steep monthly bill, but was well worth the price. Carl punched it with his thumb and entered his password to reveal dozens and dozens of thumbnails with titles such as "4 foxes 1 horse" and "Satisfy my Soul".

The first was exactly what it promised from the title. Found-footage style, it was taken from a security camera in a parking garage. A gang of male foxes dressed in college letterman jackets followed a flamboyant pony on his way to his car. There was no audio to it and the camera lacked any personality of its own. It just watched indifferently as the four started shoving the horse boy around between them. They stripped him of his clothes, slapping him across the muzzle anytime he put up any resistance.

When he had nothing left, they tied him down on his back to his own car and each took a place. One had both paws gripping the equine's ears, facefucking him like a beast. Another was riding the horse's cock cowgirl style while his partner was balls deep making the stallion his mare. The final fox was content jerking himself off while watching, just happy to have been there for the experience. It looked so realistic, but Carl could tell that the camera's position and quality were a little too good for it to be authentic.

The second video, Satisfy my Soul, was an actual production following two altar servers and two novice nuns, all barely legal. The afghan hound and goat server would slyly meet inside a confessional to kiss and fondle each other underneath their robes. Inside of a courtyard, the two nuns, a tigress and a brown weasel, fingered each other underneath their habits as they confessed their love for one another. Carl usually preferred to skip the stories to go straight to the good stuff, but he remembered this fondly and the payoff was great.

Eventually, all of them were found out and were sentenced to be flogged underneath the monastery's cellar. All four were forced to watch each other as they were stripped naked and tied to hooks in the ceiling. Each reacted their own way to the flogging, the afghan being first and accepting his punishment with his head down and lips tight. The abbot, an older but shredded lion, stood shirtless with a callous scowl and a wicked leather flogger. Every time it came down on his bloodied back, he'd grit his teeth and hoisted himself on the straps that held his wrists.

Up next was the tigress who wept throughout her punishment. The flogging didn't look quite as brutal as the afghan's, but she put on quite a show. As the black tails whipped her back, she would flounder with tits bouncing up and down. Cameras from every angle: up, down, front, and side, would capture the way they jiggled as she struggled against the straps. When they were finished with her, she was pulled down by guards squeezing her breasts while leading her against the wall.

By the time that the weasel had received her third lash, she pissed herself standing right in front of everyone watching. She squealed loudly as urine dripped down her brown fur, covering her legs and feet. The abbot dispensing the discipline did not wait for her to finish as he continued to rake her back with the flogger. It got all over the place as she kicked her legs about in protest until there was a large puddle underneath her.

The goat boy was last to receive his punishment. He stood proudly in the puddle of piss, not wanting to seem weak or afraid in front of his friends. However, as the first crack came down upon his back, not a grunt, cry, or yell escaped his lips. Instead, a moan. With his ears flat and his cheeks red, he looked embarrassed as his friends watched in surprise. The lion ordered his men to bind his muzzle before continuing on his back.

Even with the straps wrapped around his mouth tightly, moans escaped every time that he was lashed in the back. His rock hard cock bobbed and twitched, aching for release despite the brutal beating. Beads of pre and sweat dripped from his cock and balls respectively just like the drops of blood trickling down his back. They were all sentenced ten lashes, but the goat's deviance pressured the abbot to continue.

Tired, broken by the boy's cries of pleasure to what was supposed to be pain, the abbot failed in his mission to pass retribution. Angrily, he pulled back one fmore time and laid out a single strike against the goat's ass only to receive one final moan of pleasure. The camera pulled on the goat's whipped clenched ass cheeks, the newly reddened lines from the lash visible, just before trading angles to his cock shooting a rope that flung far into the room. He bucked his hips into the air repeatedly and came harder than Carl had ever seen someone cum, covering the stone floor in his seed. The credits rolled with all four walking away from the abbey, still sore from the flogging, but together in their banishment.

Carl thumbed around clumsily, smearing pre over the tablet's screen as he put on the next movie. In Service of the Queen popped up when he clicked the unwatched filter. This movie was about a fox spy from the Royal Dover Isles disguised in Hundberge as a young german shepherd. His mission was to free prisoners during the height of the cold war. Carl skipped through the beginning, waiting until he saw the main character in distress.

Seeing the fox helpless on the ground stirred something in the maned wolf. Shackles had been placed on his nude body chained to a wall. Just as they were pouring water over his head, Carl cast the video to the 70" flat screen in front of him. Even if it was just acting, he could tell how intense the sensation was by his bristled fur and his fierce shivers. There was a tightness in his shoulders that promised to ache in ways that Carl wanted to experience for himself. Envisioning that ice cold water soaked into his fur made his palm feel that much warmer when he gripped his own shaft tightly.

They worked vigorously with brushes and scrubs until the painted markings were completely removed from fox spy's body. Even his sheath and balls were handled roughly, making him mewl in torment. An officer, a uniformed polecat, stepped inside with a riding crop at his hip. Scared, but determined, the fox spy spat right on the mustelid's boot. It hardly phased him. With a snap of his finger, the german shepards forced the fox to lick the spit right off his boot until it shined. Then, all three of them took turns holding the vulpine's muzzle wide and hocking their own loogies right onto his tongue, throat, and face.

Carl's breathing hastened along with the strokes to his cock. He grabbed his knot hard, squeezing and kneading it with his thumb. Both german shepards double stuffed the fox's ass. Screaming in pain, the spy pleaded with the officer, swearing he'd reveal all his secrets if they'd just show him mercy. The polecat just shut him up by stuffing his muzzle with his fat cock. Bloodshot eyes looked up from the officer's perspective and the strained and pained look blurred reality and fantasy. Carl grabbed his shaft with both paws tight, imagining it was the fox's muzzle wrapped around his own shaft.

"You have a guest at the front door," Rekha chimed from the kitchen behind him.

Jumping out of his seat, Carl flipped around, looking for Rekha like she was a real person. With one paw holding his shaft like a baton and his other held up in a fist, he tried to reason what was going on. Realizing it was just his home assistant settled him down for only a second until she repeated her words LOUDLY. Naturally, he reached for his pockets and only rubbed against bare fur. Inside of his pants was his phone and inside of his basement was his pants. There'd be no way that he could get it without risking his son calling for help.

Hoping that whoever was at the front would just leave on their own, Carl let go of his receding dick and picked up the tablet. Carl kept himself still, not wanting anyone to see his figure through the fogged glass window of the door. Determined to outwait the person, he cut the stream on his TV, replacing it with a digital aquarium. He checked in on his son's progress, only to find all of the butterflies remained on the screen, flapping carelessly in the void.

W A T C H T H E B U T T E R F L I E S U N T I L T H E Y ' R E G O N E

His son wasn't making any progress at all.

Pounding at the door made Carl flinch. He grumbled and brought up the Home app on his tablet. A camera at his front door whirred, adjusting for a second before the black, white, and orange muzzle of a fox came into clear view.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Carl muttered, recognizing the idiot stuffing his face right up against the glass lens. Fiddling with the tablet, he found the speaker button and pressed it. "Billy, now's not a good time," he said in his most commanding voice.

The rail thin fox spun around, looking all over as he tried to find out where the voice was coming from. Untucked, his lime green and lemon yellow shirt splayed out like a ballerina's tutu while he circled around confused. It was only then that he noticed the fox was carrying a bag in his paw. On his head was a ballcap with the familiar logo: Gonzalo's Authentic Pizzeria and Hot Wings.

"Uh, Mr. Flacks? You hidin'?" Billy asked before pressing his muzzle right into the fogged glass of the front door. "I jus' got off work and wanted to hang with Evee."

He rolled his eyes, wishing he'd anticipated his son inviting the fox over. Billy had been his son's best friend growing up in the city and one of the things Carl was hoping to leave behind in the city. Conveniently, the fox found a local place to stay just as soon as his son dropped out and moved up north with him. Unwittingly, the fox was the one person who would snoop around enough for Everett. Carl was not going to be looking at twenty-five to life from the village idiot, so he started to plan.

Balling his fist, Billy almost slammed his paw into Carl as the door was flung violently open. The cream on the fox's muzzle turned shade after shade of pink and red as he shifted up and down from the maned wolf's naked crotch back up to make eye contact. Leaning against the doorframe, Carl waited cooly with only his pink tank top on and nothing else.

"Mr. Flacks! Err, you might've forgotten somethin'," Billy muttered as he averted his eyes.

Carl leaned in, grabbing the fox's muzzle and pointing him towards the driveway. "I didn't forget shit," Carl started, mocking Billy's drawl. "Says private property drivin' in here. Some day, a very long time from now, you'll be strutting around naked in your own fifteen foot trailer."

With all of his might, he made his deepest scowl hoping to just scare off Billy. Instead, the fox just beamed at him with his crooked teeth. "Well, actually, I've been adding things up and so'long as nobody's getting knocked up, I'll be movin' on up inna couple years." Shuffling his feet, he further added, "So, uh, can I go see Evee now?"

Frustrated, Carl partially wanted to scream at the young fox. Somehow the casualness of the conversation had left Billy more comfortable with the fact that he was naked from the waist down. "He's not here," Carl said as coldly as possible.

Billy looked past Carl into the house and it seemed to dawn on him right then and there, "Wait, aren't you supposed to be gone until Monday?"

"Sunday! I said maybe Sunday, and I'd be home early if I huddled down and did my work. Hence, since I'm actually hard working, I'm here today," Carl said, losing most of his typical patience with the dim-witted fox.

"Oh, well, Evee did say he was gonna pay me for the pizza an' it did take me 'bout a half hour to get here..." Billy sheepishly said, trying his best not to look into

"It took you half an hour? You guys are, like, right down the fucking road." Carl said, pointing at the delivery bag.

Billy turned his body, pointing at a skateboard laying out in the middle of the grass. "Car broke down. Been skatin' all my deliveries," he said in a matter of fact tone.

Shoulders dropped and ears pressed against the back of his head, Carl stared hard into the vulpine's eyes to figure out if he was for real or just fucking with him. The fox's kind and docile nature repulsed him every way. Again, Billy brought up the bag, this time almost hitting him on the chest with it. He pulled back with an apologetic look, but still waited for an answer.

"Everett. Ain't. Here," Carl punctuated. The fox's ears went back and he frowned, but before he would let him ask, Carl continued, "Remember how I said that he was never allowed to have parties here, and then you and him threw one anyways?"

"Oh," Billy said, pausing and averting his gaze to the ground. "You found out."

"No shit, Billy. I found out," Carl said with his whiskers twitching, ready to lose it.

"He must've left fast. He stayin' with his ma?"

Carl straightened himself out, standing all six and a half feet tall over the five foot nothing fox. The pink tank top pulled upward enough so that his dick and balls were completely revealed to Billy. Scents of anger and disappointment flowed off of his body, washing over the vulpine's senses. "I'm a very rich and powerful man, Billy. If I want, I can make anyone disappear right quick. I can send them far away without ever having to worry about anything again."

Billy seemed to think of this for a second, scratching the back of his head. There was genuine worry on his muzzle and he thought that something actually have gotten through until he asked, "So, like, will he be back in a week or somethin'?"

"NO, BILLY! He will NOT be back in a week or somethin'," Carl shouted, leaning over the fox so that every word pushed him into the ground. Everything that he was doing was having almost the exact opposite effect that he had initially planned for. This conversation should have been over a long time ago.

Billy looked left and then looked right, leaning in as he coyly asked, "Are you embarrassed 'bout the sex room? Cause I don't think it's really that big'a deal. E'ryone's got their thing." He finished that by giving the maned wolf a wink like his opinions actually counted for anything.

Red engulfed everything that Carl could see and he was half tempted to knock the fox over the head and drag him down the basement to take Everett's place. "This isn't about th-- You know what? I don't know why I'm discussing any of this with you. I'll pay for the pizza, Billy! Twenty dollars sound good? I'll pay you twice as much just to go now."

Nodding his head up and down, he held out his paw. Carl swung around, opening a drawer on the counter. Inside was a clip of five dollar bills made to tip cash, and like he suspected, Everett hadn't tipped any driver once while he was gone. "Thankie. Much appreciated," he said as he took the wad of bills into his free paw, "The only reason why I'm asking so much is 'cause, well, I left something in his room and I want to grab it if he ain't gonna be back soon."

Carl's heart sunk and he felt his sack visibly clench up to his body. Not wanting his changing scent to be picked up by the vulpine's sensitive nose, he focused his attention and blurred out,"Tell me what it is, and I'll go get it for you." The pizza box went down where all the food containers used to be.

"Oh, uh, it's no big deal. I'll run in'dere an' grab it myself," the fox replied cheerfully.

Thinking himself free to come and go as he pleased, Billy started stepping into the hallway. Carl tried to intercept him, getting in front a little too late. The fox's feet skid to a halt just as his black mitt collided into Carl's hefty white sack harshly. Stunned and embarrassed, Billy's paw gripped onto his bits, almost glued to them before he could overcome his shock enough to pull back. A whimpered groan escaped the sides of Carl's pursed lips and an aching soreness enveloped the lower half of his body.

He leaned against the counter, steadying himself as he tried to catch his breath. It was only a second, but it felt like the little fox boy just knocked the wind out of him. "Oh, uh, sorry Mr. Flacks. I'll just, you know," Billy said as he scootched around him. Carl just waved his paw up, trying to motion that it was alright even when he clearly wasn't.

Catching up slowly, Carl's legs wobbled like jelly as he followed behind Billy. He had to commend his son, impressed he managed to take the riding crop to his balls without passing out because he sure was about to. All the while, his ears were up, focusing hard on the floor underneath him. Everett had given up squealing in the basement, but he wasn't following through with the program either. Unless he started the prompts quickly, there'd not be enough time for him to subdued by its rewiring.

Most of the trash was taken care of, which was unfortunate, because Carl could really use a beer bottle right now. Anything with which he'd be able to knock over the fox's head if things went south. He had maybe a hundred pounds on the boy, but Billy was wiry. He wouldn't be able to catch up to him if he couldn't corner him. His eyes even trailed to the metal and wooden frames of pictures along the wall, wondering if he could hit him hard enough with the sharp corners to knock him out. He shook off that thought wearily. He hated Billy, and this situation was dire, but he didn't want to actually kill him.

Leaning against the doorway, he watched the fox try to be discreet as he scanned over the room. Billy waddled around, his eyes shiftily darting back at the maned wolf as he pretended to shuffle things. Tired of waiting for the fox to stumble onto what he was searching for, Carl coughed and pointed at the desk. "Maybe he put it away?" he said as he turned his head to give the fox some privacy.

The strong scent of weed made his ears stand tall and his whiskers stretch. At the corner of his eye, he watched the fox take a sideways glance his direction before pulling out a baggie from the drawer. He had to lift his ugly bright uniform enough to show the white fur of his belly in order to stuff it into his baggy khaki cargo shorts. Seeing so much fur, Carl couldn't help but think back to the spy fox in the movie he was watching. As Billy wiped his nose, the stench was too much for his sensitive vulpine nose, Carl fantasized about spitting right into his mouth the way the german shepherds had. Oh how he'd love to make that stupid fucking fox chew on his snot.

"Um," Billy started but never followed through.

Carl looked down at where Billy had been looking and noticed he was peeking from his sheath. He tugged down the front of his pink tank top enough to hide it and flicked his head to the side. "Time for you to go," he said as he turned to the hallway embarrassed.

They only made it a step out of the room when both of their ears picked up the soft but sharp pitch of Everett's whine underneath the house. Carl's heart sunk so hard that it could have bounced against the floor. He took note of anything he might use to clobber Billy. Thinking fast though, he turned around and caught the fox's attention, "So how come it is you never asked my son out?"

Billy's ears were standing and his muzzle was dipped towards the ground. He definitely heard the same thing that Carl had, but the question justled him enough to set him off balance. Now, cheeks red hot at the pointedness of the question, Billy focused on Carl. "I, ugh, gosh Mr. Flacks. I didn't think you'd noticed, sir," he said with his paw behind the back of his head.

Carl flipped around, getting side by side the fox to help push him along towards the door. "Everett didn't notice" --he slapped him hard on the back, laughing loud to make as much noise as possible while moving him-- "It was pretty clear to me when you moved all the way out here as soon as he dropped out!" he shouted, trying to pull off the enthusiastic father as best as he could.

"Well, my mom's house is right down the way, but..." He cut himself off to duck his head down. Stepping forward, Carl could hear another wail from Everett, but Billy was too flabbergasted to have even noticed it this time. "Shucks, you makin' me blush. Would it be alright if I asked your son out?" he asked. His words were so bashful and honest that they seemed to float on over with cartoon birds chirping and a radiance of innocence. The fox turned his muzzle and fluttered his eyelashes, too caught up in the moment to realize he'd been led completely outside.

"Couldn't give a shit," Carl said before letting the door slam in his face. A sigh of relief escaped from his chest, glad to be alone in the house again. A rapping at the door didn't even warrant the maned wolf to turn back. "What, Billy?" he called, picking up the pizza and already walking away.

"So, like, is he grounded?" Billy asked through the door.

Shaking his head and rolling his eyes, he walked out of the foray calling out, "Sure, Billy! At least a month. Don't come back 'til then."

If Billy had said anything else, Carl didn't hear it nor did he care. He was out of the house and out of his mind. With the pizza box in paw, he picked up the tablet and grabbed a couple bottles of water from the fridge. The tablet showed that Everett hadn't proceeded any further in the program. The butterflies just floated above an endless black canvas. At least his son wasn't trying to swing the headset off himself anymore.

Carl swayed as he walked down into the basement again, feeling a little proud that he was able to get rid of the fox without having to resort to anything drastic. "You just missed Billy," he said as he stepped through the door. Everett's head and ears went up, his muzzle searching for where he thought the voice was coming from. "He took all your weed." That got a disappointed grunt.

After setting down the pizza box and tablet, he stepped in front of the boy and twisted off of the cap of the bottle of water. Everett sensed his father standing over him and lifted his muzzle slightly to acknowledge him. "Not a word," Carl said sternly, waiting for a nod. He questioned if he could trust him to really not talk, but he needed to give him water and he didn't want him to choke on it with the ring on.

Carl unfastened the ring gag as Everett forced it out of his maw with his tongue, opening his already tormented jaw just wide enough to unlatch it from his teeth and spit it to the ground. It rang on the floor, bouncing twice before settling on the leather straps. He'd been able to breathe the entire time, but panted loudly as soon as it was out. Several times Everett looked like he was about to say something, but held off and was rewarded.

"Here. It's water," Carl said as he pressed the bottle against his lips. Without hands nor the ability to see, he had to help his son close his lips around the glass brim and tilt up the drink with care. "Don't drink too fast. I don't want it to come back up."

Everett did as he was told and Carl wondered if it was because the programming was starting to have its effects. Nah. He wasn't even finished with the butterflies and he'd need to get past a few more layers before Seethersoft could do some real damage. After 30 seconds of tilting the bottle slowly back, Everett was having trouble holding up his head. Carl pulled it away from him and allowed his muzzle to droop all the way down.

"Good boy. You're doing great, Kiddo," Carl said before holding the rest of the bottle over his son's head and pouring it over him. Cold water soaking his fur made him tense, but he poured it over slow as to not agitate him too much. He washed out the sweat from his fur and brow, ruffling over his mane and ears as he finished. The VR headset would be fine with a little bath. "You hungry?"

His son didn't respond to the question. It wasn't clear if he was staying silent because he was ignoring him or just unsure if he was allowed to speak. Carl didn't need an answer from his mouth though. A gurgle erupted from the boy's tummy and he reached back to pat him right on his waist. Everett flinched, but he just followed it with a series of soothing strokes to his silky smooth fur.

In one paw sagged a slice of pizza, driblets of grease raining down on the cold cement floor leaving glossy stains. In the other, he had the program loaded up to see what Everett was doing:

W A T C H T H E B U T T E R F L I E S U N T I L T H E Y ' R E G O N E

W A T C H T H E B U T T E R F L I E S U N T I L T H E Y ' R E G O N E

W A T C H T H E B U T T E R F L I E S U N T I L T H E Y ' R E G O N E

Even if he wasn't trying to look at the butterflies, he would have accidentally triggered some of them long enough to make a few disappear. No, he was keeping his eyes tightly shut and wasn't going to open them up until the VR headset was turned off. With his eyes shut, either because he was defiant or tired, the programming wouldn't be able to proceed.

"How bout I cut you a deal? For every level that you beat, I'll let you have a full slice of pizza. That's right. Billy brought your favorite," Carl coaxed him, holding the slice close enough to his muzzle for him to smell it. Everett couldn't even hold back the gulp, licking around his lips hungrily. It was cute seeing him all feral-like. "Mmmm, cheeseburger topped pizza."

Gonzalo's Fucking Authentic Italian Pizzeria my furry red ass. A bit of sausage hanging from the cheddar mozzarella blend crumbled as Carl wagged the slice back and forth. Sauce dripped off the sagging grease soaked tip. It looked disgusting, but it was his best bargaining tool for now. Just like that, he watched the butterflies slowly glow red one by one until they'd pop in an explosion of bubbles.

"Good boy. Now open wide," Carl said as he brought the slice to Everett's muzzle. There was a second's pause and a twisted smile split the older maned wolf's muzzle. The delay was typical for users relearning their own freewill. True to his promise, he fed his son the slice, careful not to make a huge mess. Some grease matted the fur on his chin, but Carl wiped it away with his thumb, ready to pull back in case he snapped at him.

Everett didn't bite and proceeded along the next task. This time, he was in a cart led by feral horses. The goal was to steer the horse along the road until it passed through a tunnel just a short ways ahead. It seemed easy enough, especially since the tunnel didn't look too far away, but the hills and windiness of the road camouflage the fact that the tunnel was unreachable. No matter how much closer the entrance looked like it was approaching, it was always just a little bit further away.

There, the real magic was happening. Along the road were pansies, daisies, and sunflowers inescapable from peripheral view. Lush green waves of tall grass rose and fell like the tides of the ocean. Carl helped by blowing cool air over his muzzle every time they would dip and rise, mimicking the gentle breezes. Even the brown dirt of the road itself promised a softness like walking onto a cloud. All of the environment's tranquility was being permanently tattooed into Everett's mind without him knowing the slightest.

He let himself slack and followed the instructions without further protests, seemingly forgetting about the pizza. Instead of the passive suggestions a normal patient would get, Carl had changed the code to amp up the impressions Seethersoft would leave in his brain. Not only should it theoretically work faster than normal, it should also be leaving a thicker imprint inside of his head. Time would tell though and he would have to wait to see the results.

Propping himself up on the workbench just behind Everett, he grabbed another slice of the pizza and inspected it. God, did it look gross, but seeing his son scarf it down reminded him that he hadn't eaten anything since lunch. The fast food was cold by now and the only thing worse than a Peppered Patty's soggy burger is one that's cold. Carl folded the pizza and crammed it into his face, deciding that it wasn't bad enough to skip out on. How his son managed to eat this trash every night and not feel like shit everyday was a mystery to him.

For the next few hours, Carl roamed around his house trying to occupy himself. Looking at porn didn't sound quite as entertaining to him after Billy snuck up on him like that. He didn't really care to finish the plot of the movie if he wasn't going to be rewatching the entire scene from the beginning. Supposedly, he should be working on his presentation for Monday, but that felt boring as well. Games only distracted him for so long, especially since he had to keep the volume down to avoid distracting his son.

No matter how far he could get away from the basement, Carl continued to check in on his son's progress, making sure that he was actually guiding the cart the way that it was supposed to be going. Everett was limp on the bench, muzzle unbound and ring gag out of his maw, but definitely awake. Like in a trance, his eyes continued to follow the road and his head would turn every now and then to steer the horses and view the landscape. Graceful and smooth, his tail curled in and out with a calm demeanor.

As the white tip pulled upward and flicked around, Carl would catch Everett's tailhole. Knowing his son well enough, he'd never actually had someone behind him before. Either he'd pussy out the second that it became too much pressure or he'd never be able to charm someone enough to even get that far. Even if Billy did ask him out, which that runt would probably never get the courage to, he wouldn't even know what to do with his own dick.

Carl could see himself standing behind a naked Billy with his paws on the boy's hips. Everett would be on the bed with his back to the mattress and his legs hoisted over the fox's shoulders. He imagined himself guiding the vulpine's probably equally emasculate dick into his son's tailhole slowly. Rocking his hips forward, he would train the fox, showing him with his own thrusts how to make his son moan. Over Billy's shoulder, he would watch Everett's eyes roll into the back of his head and his tongue lull onto the pillow.

As if he'd ever let that trailer trash be the first to mount his son when Carl was right here right now.

Something stirred in his crotch and he looked back nervously over his son and pondered the thought. He proposed to Whitney when he was only seventeen, despite his family's wishes. She was his first and last, and he honestly thought that she would be his only. Now that he was free from her, he could have anyone that he wanted and he did want everyone. Looking over his son again, his exposed backside and coin purse, he really did question if he could have everyone.

Carl knew that he should walk out of the basement right now, let the programming do what it's supposed to do, and come back in maybe a few hours. Maybe. To be safe, he really should just let the boy wear it until he passes out and then a bit more when he wakes up again. But any second longer felt too long now with his erect shaft grasped in his free paw. He wanted to take what was rightfully his.

Getting his feet back onto the ground, he walked behind his son and kneeled over him. Still keeping a paw on his own dick, he reached his other forward until he touched his son's inner thigh. Everett reacted immediately, pulling out of his trance and shifting around uncomfortably while Carl rubbed the white fur near his crotch. As if forgetting the position that he was in, he pulled at the restraints to tug away from the touch.

"Dad?" he asked groggily.

Carl changed up his strokes, moving from his inner thigh up until he was rubbing the soft fur of his ass. "Mmmhmm?" he purred, not really minding that he spoke without permission. He'd learn eventually, so he'd let it slide this time.

He didn't say anything immediately, trying again to pull himself away. When that wasn't working though, he cautiously asked, "What're you doing?"

"I can't show you what a real man's cock looks like, not right now..." he began, trailing his fingers back downward along his son's tush. Tracing along his crack, he watched as his son's sack pressed up against his body. His fingers felt through the creamy fur on his taint before gently stroking his son's balls. They still must've been sore because it got a flinch from him, but he was leery in his brush. Just above his sack was the metal ring attached to the cage covering his sheath. As he finished his thought, he felt the surprising warmth of the steel with his finger tips.

"...but I can show you what a real man feels like."