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Sometimes jobs go wrong. I wasn't mad at my crew for that. I was mad at myself for getting caught, hauled paw over foot into the back of a cop car in a muzzle and cuffs. Now I waited in a small, dingy interview room, cuffs still on and looped into the table I sat at. The walls were the type with plastic paneling on one side that, no doubt, the cops watched me from, talking about who'd play good cop and bad cop. Getting their game together to try and make me squeal.

I bared my teeth and said, "I won't say a thing until I have a lawyer in here with me. So till I see one you can go fuck--"

The door to the cell opened. In walked a tall, middle-aged goat. His stringy beard had a few streaks of silver in his ruddy brown hair, and his otherwise lanky frame was interrupted by a slight beer belly. I took one look at his dress pants, wrinkled polo, cheap tie, and the manilla folder in his hand and said, "They actually sent me a lawyer?" He looked like the sort of cheap, defense attorney that got sent to criminals with nothing else.

That wasn't me. I'd done that song and dance before, and our crew set aside some of our earnings just for an on retainer attorney. You didn't wear a suit as well fitted as mine without having plenty of coin to spare.

The goat took a seat opposite me and opened the folder. "I'm your rehabilitation officer."

"Rehab-what?"

"New program we're trying on troubled populations in the city. Ones prone to crime. Rather than carceral punishment, we try rehabilitation first." He glanced over my file, which included a blown up photo of my mugshot. "A Mr. Wolf?"

"Yes. Have you not read my file?" I asked. "Make a pretty shitty therapist if you came in here blind."

He remained totally unphased by my barbs, still going over his files. He said to the papers, "Just making sure you are cognizant of your name. I heard the officers involved in your arrest were rough. You bit one of them?"

I flashed my fangs in a big smirk. "I'm not a wolf for nothing, and I eat sheep like you for breakfast."

"I see." The goat got a notepad and pen from his pocket and wrote down, enunciating, "Client is insinuating violence, likely in a bid for intimidation."

"Get me out of the cuffs and we'll see how much of my bark is actually bite."

"I will remove your cuffs momentarily, Mr. Wolf," the goat said, "And please, don't make threats you won't mean to keep. Your rap sheet is large, but assault? The only violence you've ever committed was in self defense against the police. Why is that?"

I huffed. How the fuck did he know that? I could have killed plenty of people and just never been caught. I asked, "What's your name?"

"Cory. Does a personal connection make this process easier for you?"

"Fuck off with this therapist shit."

"You did not answer my question from before."

"I've hurt plenty of people. Way I see it, whole world could do with getting taken down a peg."

"I see," Cory said as he made another note. "Why is that?"

"When people heap shit on you your whole life, you learn to start hurling it back at them."

"I see. So a lack of acceptance drives your need to rob, destroy property, and in general be a public menace."

"Sure thing, doc."

"I'm not a licensed doctor, just a rehabilitation officer."

I rolled my eyes. "The polo told me as much."

"Man of fashion, Mr. Wolf?"

"Yeah, and unlike those other nitwits in a suit, I earned mine."

"Mmm, yes, that makes sense." More note taking. "Given what I gleaned from your file, and what our brief conversation highlighted, I believe I understand the best course of action for rehabilitation."

"Oh? I'd say I'm all ears, but until I hear from my lawyer, you can't do--" I stopped when Cory reached across the table, a key in his hand. Delicately, he set the key into my handcuffs, turned it, and my wrists popped free.

Cory smiled. "I told you I'd take off the cuffs."

"Sucker!" I leapt out of my chair so quick it careened across the room. I got to the door and tried the knob. Locked. I shoved my weight against it, testing how sturdy it looked. Definitely wasn't busting through. I turned around and scowled at Cory. "Wipe that smug look off your face. Open this door or they're going to need to pump my stomach to find all the pieces of you."

Cory calmly closed the folder. "You're not going to hurt me."

"Like hell I won't!" I stomped over to the table, grabbing it and trying to flip it over. I huffed and puffed, and only then realized it was bolted to the floor. I slammed my paws down on the top of it and said, "You're just another boy in blue, and you know I got no problem biting those pigs."

"Deep down inside, Mr. Wolf, you want to be a good boy, and good boys don't hurt people." My jaw went slack at that bizarre accusation. Cory looked at me like I was the prey and he the predator. "That's why you never hurt anyone while on a job. Because you're a good boy, aren't you?"

I gasped, stepping back as a warm glow spread through my gut. I felt my tail start to wag despite my situation. It was just like when that granny called me a good boy before our job. I got so worked up and distracted I blew the whole fucking op.

Cory stood, and I only noticed now he was a few inches taller than me. His long, slender muzzle and polished horns were suddenly threatening. He began to undo his tie, saying as he did, "You see, Mr. Wolf, our research shows canids react best to positive reinforcement and praise, and those that have it withheld from them most of their life can find it overwhelming when finally exposed to it." Cory set the tie on the table, and began to unfasten his belt. "It's hard to think right now, isn't it?"

It was. I could only stare, yellow eyes wide, quivering as my sheath throbbed in my pants. I should not be getting excited. My nose should not be twitching as Cory's scent got stronger when he popped open his fly. We were in a fucking police station. There were security cameras in the room. There were likely cops right past that panel watching and fucking laughing at me right now. This was so fucked--

"Good boys don't wear clothes, do they Mr. Wolf?"

I felt a knot swell in my throat, heart pounding fast in my ears. My mouth started to feel dry. I worried if I moved I'd just start listening to him right away. The urge to take off my clothes made me ache, and the longer I ignored it the more my tail tucked under my legs.

Cory stepped right next to me, close enough I smelled his cheap body wash and the tinge of earthy musk under his fur. Damn my sensitive nose. Damn my stupid animal instincts making me wobbly as he loomed over me. Gentle as my own mom had been with me, Cory reached up behind my ear and started scritching me there. I whined, still unable to speak or move.

Cory whispered, "You must be so tired of always having to take care of yourself. You've been such a good boy, you deserve to be pampered." The scratching moved to my other ear. I moaned, my cock swelling out of my sheath. "But first you gotta get out of these clothes. Can you do that for me, Mr. Wolf?"

"Ah... yes..." I whined. I couldn't take it anymore. Clothes felt constraining. I wanted this officer's hands to be able to rub my belly. I wanted my tail to be able to wag harder. I needed my cock out of these fucking briefs.

Cory stepped back, and while I started stripping fast as my trembling body could, he finally slipped out of his pants as well. I wasn't the only one to get excited. Even as I tripped out of my slacks, I couldn't stop staring at Cory's shaft. The soft brown flesh wrapped around a girthy, firm member that ended at a mushroom head, much like a human's cock. This one with so much foreskin it wrapped a wrinkled crown around his barely exposed urethra. His cock, like the rest of him, was long but by no means lanky. Easily one of the biggest pieces of pipe I'd ever seen.

The smell alone had me leaning in. More of that salty, earthy musk clouding over my good judgement. This was insane. I was miles above this guy's league. I should never have even given this pencil-necked desk jockey the time of day. I just needed to get this out of my system. Once I stopped being so fucking horny I'd get out of here.

He sat down at his chair again, fat, heavy nuts hanging over the edge of it. He patted his knee and said, "Come sit, pup."

"D-don't call me that," I growled, even as I moved closer. He wasn't _that_much taller than me, I was definitely stronger, and his dick barely outclassed mine. So why did my ears remain folded back, my muzzle tucked in submission?

I _yiped_when Cory yanked me onto his lap. Suddenly, our cocks pressed against each other. His bigger dick so hot and soft against my own. It annoyed me that he kept his polo on. Did he not care about making a fucking mess of his clothes? But he silenced that by cupping my chin and whispering, "But you're my good boy, aren't you?"

I whimpered again, dick shooting pre across his stomach.

"Heh, that's right, such a good boy. Turning into a little puppy for me."

"Shut up."

"Awww," Cory's fingers roamed along my back, combing through my fur, feeling and massaging my firm muscles. "There's nothing wrong with being a puppy, Mr. Wolf. Good boys love to be other men's puppies."

"You're, hah, pushing it."

"Shhh," Cory cooed. He hugged me close to him. I whined as our cocks and bellies pressed together. That gut of his actually good for this specifically. I couldn't help but hump and grind into it, stoking that needy, lustful part of me. I knew I shouldn't, I knew I should resist, but it still just felt _so good_to submit to him, to this.

Cory's fingers squeezed my hips, then roved under my hiked tail, groping my toned glutes. "Such a nice ass, pup. You must really love having cock in here."

"I... no..." It confused me. I tried bottoming before and I knew for certain I hated it. "I'm a--fuck... top... I top."

"Ah-ah, pup, you're a good boy. Good boys never top unless their master asks them to."

"No... I'm not... stop this, please," I whined. I felt my asshole twinging. Past failed attempts with partners and toys no longer mattered. I needed to be filled with something, anything. His thumb rubbed across my pucker, pressing in, dimpling down my flexing ring of muscle.

"You're so sexy, all submissive like this. We've not even started, and you're already behaving like such a good boy," Cory continued to whisper in my ear. Each sentence, each ounce of praise winding me up more and more, making me more desperate. My knot started swelled faster than the last bitch in heat I tried to tie.

"C-Cory! I'm begging you!" What I begged for I wasn't sure at this point, helplessly frotting against him while Cory made no effort to move. He made me do all the work, hammering in just how horny, how needy I was while he remained in complete control.

"Master, puppy. Good boys need masters. And right now, I'm your master."

"Fuck if, hnng, I'm g-gonna..."

"You want to be a good boy, don't you?"

"I..." felt myself giving in. I couldn't take it. I needed him. Needed him to want me. I needed to be a good boy. "I want to be a good boy," I breathed. "A good boy, I want to be a good boy."

"Then call me Master."

"Master, you're my master," I said. Anything to have him make me feel better. I sat at this precipice, unable to get off on my own. I needed him. I needed--

"Such a good boy," Master said, "Cum for me, puppy."

My back arched against him and I hugged him tight, my muzzle burrowed in his shoulder while I came. Normally I growled, snarled, or howled or made any sound other than the pathetic, "Fuck... Master... Master..." mewling that came from my lips, my tail twitching each time my balls clenched. I felt them rest down against the base of his bigger pair, which remained unfeeling, as if my incredible orgasm existed on another plane of reality. I couldn't remember ever cumming so hard in my life, my knot sore, spade tip sensitive even though I could not stop myself from grinding into my Master's wonderful, soft gut. Sticky globs of seed matted my fur coat and stained his polo, ruining it and filling the room with the smell of a needy, pent up wolf. Me. I couldn't believe I'd done this.

It should have been the most shameful thing I'd ever done, but as I passed into the afterglow, settling against my Master's front, I found his digits stroked gently up and down my spine. A warmth spread through my chest, something like the comfort of love, but different. It felt off but right at the same time.

Master whispered, "How was that, pup?"

That word. Pup. I felt my paws ball into fists on the back of his shirt. I wanted to say something, but the sudden thought of displeasing Master made the anger slip away quick as it came. I struggled for words: "I... I... what's happening to me?"

"Rehabilitation, pup. Once we've finished your training, we'll assign you a handler, and you can be a nice, happy puppy serving your future Master."

"No," I wheezed, shaking my head against him. They wanted me to turn into some kind of sex slave?

"No?" Master asked. "But didn't that feel good, pup? Didn't you like being a good boy?"

"I'm... I'm the big bad wolf," I said, baring my teeth, trying and failing to growl.

"No... you're just a pup. You want to be a good boy."

"G-get out of my head."

"I'm not in your head, pup. This is what you want. What you've always wanted. You just didn't know because no one ever showed you what this could be like."

I burrowed my face into his shoulder again, as if I could block him out. I just fucking came, so why did I still want more? Why couldn't I get Cory's soft whisper out of my head? That gentle praise so simple and yet...

"Good boys know better than to ignore their Master's needs, don't they, pup?"

And just like that, I dialed right back into my Master. I felt ashamed at how his erection throbbed against my drippy tool, now dirty with my cum. I slid off Master's lap, down onto my knees between the goat's knobbly legs. My cum had slid in viscous strands across his cock and into his fuzzy balls. My cum still leaked from me and onto the linoleum floor, but I barely noticed as I nuzzled into Master's nuts. Those balls had such a potent scent, even with my recent orgasm, this close his musk easily overpowered my scent. As they should.

A pup shouldn't be more potent than his master.

I didn't even question this intrusive thought, I was too busy burrowing my nose in and under that sack. My nostrils and whiskers twitched as I sucked in and savored more of Master's potent, powerful scent. Unbidden, my tail started wagging again, ears still folded back as I remained on all fours, no better than a feral mutt. I lapped up my Master's balls.

That pungent, earthy and salty musk stained my palate. I could not get enough of it, licking all across his sack. Master scratched behind my ears again, saying, "That's it, pup. Such a good, obedient boy. You love this more than touching yourself don't you?"

No. I didn't. I shouldn't. But the only thing that tumbled out of my muzzle was a, "Yes, Master," between licks. I cleaned the thick clumps of cum off his balls, polishing the furry orbs with my spit. My head buzzed with pleasure, as I worked until I existed in a complete stupor.

"Clean my cock now, pup."

I did. Gladly. My tongue dragged through his coarse, dark brown pubes, licking up sweat and more of my cum there. The salty, viscous fluid I had no trouble swallowing, as my muscle slid up the barrel of his shaft. The scent of his dick was a little sharper, even as its flavor was more subdued. Still, I tasted his sweat under the swabs of my remaining seed that I slurped up. I worked like a sloppy little slut, not caring if I smeared some of my semen onto my muzzle, lips, or whiskers. It just better marked my maw for what it was for: servicing my master.

My tongue finally reached the apex of that spire. Eager to taste his glans, I pinched one side of Master's foreskin, stretching it open so my tongue easily slipped inside. His cool demeanor finally broke in favor of a quiet curse, his hoof clapping against the floor. His obvious pleasure made me feel just as good as the taste of his glans. Some, mercifully still sane part of my mind, was thankful Master cleaned this part of him thoroughly, so it only carried the meaty, salty flavor of precum and sweat. My tastebuds swiped up, down, and around his glans, sampling every seam of wrinkled flesh in his foreskin.

Master moaned as I closed my lips around his shaft, careful of my teeth. I bobbed down on his shaft, the tight seal of my mouth peeling back his foreskin so his urethra drooled precum across my long, smooth canine tongue.

"Fuck," Master breathed, "You're such a good cock sucker, pup. You're, ah, doing a wonderful job."

I froze a little at more praise. My dick slapped against my stomach, at attention and ready squirt again already. I let Master's words, his taste, scent, the touch of his fingers scratching behind my ears, Master's everything sink into my psyche. I never felt anything like this. More than love, this was adoration and addiction. I needed him, needed his approval more than anything else in my life.

I started bobbing my head, happily moaning as my muzzle sawed back and forth along his shaft. Master slouched in his chair, letting me work. With every bob I worked more spit past my lips, getting his length slippery enough for my lips to glide easily over Master's turgid flesh. This wonderful tower of virility. Getting the chance to worship it was truly the best thing that ever happened to me.

Master's cock began to press to the back of my throat. I tried to force it down, wanting to take him to the base, please him all over, but I gagged. I swallowed a cough, eyes tearing up, while Master's grip on the back of my head got firmer. "Come on pup," he said sternly, "Good boys know how to swallow."

He was right. I whined and tried again, willing my gag reflex to relax. I'd never sucked a dick so big in my life. I felt myself drowning on Master's meat as I forced it into my throat, an obvious bulge sliding along my neck. I wanted to please him so badly. I needed to be a good boy. It didn't matter that it stung my throat, that I gagged again, or that my eyes now wept tears.

"Goddamn, that's it... That's a good boy. Choke on Master's fat dick like a good pup."

A few simple words, and all that discomfort turned to pleasure. The pain was a sign of my perseverance, the gagging just another way to flex and clench my inner walls around Master's cock. Even the struggle to breathe was good, made me light headed, my loins tight with tension. Good pups choked on cock and loved it. And I was a good pup. I needed to choke on Master's cock to feel complete.

Master grabbed the side of my head and said, "Almost there, pup." I let him take control, following his movements as he lifted me off his crotch, then shoved my snout back into his pubes. My eyes rolled back in my head. I felt my cock jolt and twitch beneath as his dick didn't wedge its way in my throat, but battered it open. That roughness a shock of pleasure through my body. I should have cum from it. I wanted to, I felt my pent up puppy batter building up in my shaft. It was like someone had pinched off the flow, not allowing it, and I realized it was because Master had not cum yet. No matter the pleasure I received, I couldn't let it get in the way of being Master's good boy.

Master treated my muzzle like a toy, pumping my maw up and down his shaft. My throat stung from each forceful slam inside it, and my balls aching, clenched to my crotch, begging for release. Master doubled over a little, eyes squeezed shut. I could barely watch him through the tears clouding my vision, but I sent him every ounce of adoration to him, silently pleading that I could be enough, that my maw would get the honor of getting his seed.

The thrusts into my muzzle got rougher, more erratic, Master panting harshly through his nostrils till he finally rammed me down into his pubes. Deep enough that each gulp of air I tried to take resulted in me flexing my throat around his pulsing shaft.

"I'm going to cum, pup. Fuck. When I do, when you taste Master's cum, you're going to forget. Good boys let go of the past. Huff, g-good boys know all that matters is there Master."

I sensed it: something shifting in my head. Some part of me got ready to accept the command. To continue being a good boy. It terrified me. That last shred of my old self surged through me. I put my paws on his knees and tried to rip myself away, but his grip was stronger than any I faced.

"Ahh, God, struggling, pup? Be... be a good boy and cum for me."

A single command all it took for all my pent up lust to come crashing back over my senses. I mewled around his shaft as my cock shot and spurt against the cheap linoleum like I'd never cum the first time. And the vibrations of my weak, whimpering cries, sent Master over the edge. He came. Thick, potent globs of goat cum firing straight into my throat, faster than I could swallow. Those potent balls clenched against my chin, dumping so much of my Master's spunk I felt it back up into my mouth and sinuses. Viscous trails leaked from my nostrils, from the corners of my lips, and all across my tastebuds. I tasted master's cum, like a good boy should.

All that mattered was Master. The pulse and throb of his dick. I swallowed and suckled and whined with each new wave of seed that filled me, until Master finally released my head. I leaned back dizzy and dazed, eyes half-lidded. Master jerked his cock in front of me, and I gladly let him paint my dusky brown muzzle with his cum. His seed was so thick and sticky and warm, I felt it soaking into flesh and fur, promising me that I'd smell Master even if I tried to wash it off.

Panting, Master reached under my chin and rubbed there. I tilted my head up, wagging my tail so hard it beat against a leg of the table. Master asked, "Can you tell me your name, pup?"

As if I could ever forget. Still panting, with strings of Master's cum webbed across my mouth and lips, I told him, "I'm Master's Good Boy."