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Chapter 8: Benchmarking

Bolt's head was still utterly lost in puppy headspace, his muzzle still wet from having lapped eagerly from the bowl of water that had been presented to him. Yuri was now sitting reclined on the couch watching the padded pup in front of him eagerly hydrate himself.

Over at the other end of the room, Cinder leaned around the door frame holding his cell phone up to one pointy, fur-tipped ear.

"Right now? Give me a second, I'll grab a pen."

Pressing his cell against his shoulder for a moment, Cinder's eyes narrowed and he nodded meaningfully towards the tiger mouthing.

"We need to head out. Now."

At the tiger's raised eyebrow, Cinder only shrugged in response, mouthing back.

"Sensitive information."

The tiger rolled his eyes, his lower lip twitching downwards in disgruntlement as he turned back to Bolt. He studied the empty-headed pup who had now occupied himself with poking the tip of his muzzle into a large bone plushie that lay underneath the coffee table.

"Puppy, come here."

Bolt glanced up, rising up to all fours with a crinkly wag of his hind quarters. Evidently keen on knowing why the tiger wanted his attention, the padded pup stepped forward before sitting down in between the tiger's spread legs. The husky was very aware of the thickness of the front of his padding pressing against his cage as the scent of cinnamon wafted from the tiger's fur.

"The big boys have business to take care of. Stay put while Cinder gets your security taken care of, puppy dog."

Work calling... Now..?

Bolt became vaguely aware of the shift towards actual adult responsibility as he watched Yuri's striped tail swish out of the living room. He just barely registered in the rush of the two furs hastily getting dressed that his bladder had been complaining about needing to be voided for several minutes.

He glanced down at the thick diaper between his legs, his tail swishing against the plastic exterior as he realized that he could not fight in the inevitable. He was about to attempt to relax himself, when the shadow of Cinder loomed above him. The desert lynx had a sparkle in his eyes as he gazed down coolly at the pet on all fours in front of him, the spiked soles in Bolt's booties suppressing his instinct to stand up.

"Hey crinkle shorts, into the hug-jacket."

Bolt was unable to fully get a good look at what appeared to be a baby blue canvas sack with a variety of buckles spanning its surface before he found the cat guiding his mittened paws through its sleeves.

Cinder's unblinking gaze monitored the entire clothing process with a sentinel-like fierceness. He was so intent on the job that Bolt found himself a little unnerved by the intensity of it all. Whatever he did, the husky was not about to misbehave under such a watchful stare as Cinder exuded a kind of dominance differing from the tiger's broad strokes for arms and whip-like tail. Evolution had given this particular species of anthropomorphic cat an authority which blessed these big cats with a commanding presence that was millenia in the making.

Bolt's bladder twinged painfully while he felt his arms being adjusted and snuggly settled around his stomach, the caracal tugged the straitjacket into place. A thick strap, a little over three inches in length, was pulled between his legs and tugged firmly against his padded fron. The canine whimpered as his lower abdomen started to feel a little cramped from the pressure of the straps.

Helpless to release himself from the binds that Cinder had just secured him into, Bolt found himself a little too nervous to relax his bladder enough to release it. Having been successfully bound inside of the closed canvas shirt, he was now fully at the mercy of the caracal in front of him. Cinder commanded.

"Face the wall."

After a moment of finding his center of gravity, Bolt awkwardly shuffled on his knees until was kneeling directly in front of the wall.

"Stay."

Raising himself back up to his full height, the caracal left the incapacitated puppy on his own, stlil kneeling as the husky watched the cat's tall, tufted ears exit the hallway.

This might be my last chance...

The canine thought to himself, taking in a deep breath and doing his best to relax himself enough to be able to urinate. To his relief, his efforts were rewarded quicker than he had hoped for.

Bolt felt the front of his diaper suddenly become radiant with warmth. Even through his metal chastity cage, the husky had gone from dumb,empty-headed, and very self conscious of the fact that he had utterly soaked his pants. He had no opportunity to voice his complaints, however, as he felt something attached to his hug-jacket between his shoulder blades.

He jumped slightly, not having heard the silent paws with which Cinder padded around on.

Cinder smirked out of Bolt's vision, tugging on the leash held in his right paw as Bolt let out a soft whimper, unable to stifle himself. By the front door, near the door stopper, was a large metal ring which appeared to be intentionally designed to strap leashes and harnesses to.

The feline holding his leash tugged on the leather strap, motioning with a paw towards the direction of the ring. Shuffling slowly, the caracel waited patiently as Bolt did his best to position himself near the ring as carefully as he could. Given how his footpaws were rendered useless by the spiked booties in combination with the straitjacket putting his arms out of commission, it took a few seconds before he was able to breach the distance successfully.

I couldn't run away even if I wanted to...

Bolt realized, glancing down at his outfit only to feel his cheeks redden a little at the sight of the very obvious diaper between his legs completing his wardrobe. Like it or not, he was one incapacitated, padded pup. Cinder spoke up, a glint in his eyes telling Bolt that he had likely not been the only fur in the room mulling over Bolt's choice of wardrobe for the late afternoon.

"We'll be back soon as we can, just wait by the front door like a good boy while we're gone."

Bolt's ears drooped, pressing down against the top of his fluffy head as he nodded meekly. He tugged his arms against the sleeves that held them firmly around his torso. Gingerly, he lowered himself down until he was once more sitting directly on top of his crinkly bottom. Sitting in his now significantly squishier state of padding than a few minutes ago, Bolt looked out the window by the front door to note that there appeared to be some visibility into the felines' neighbor's garden. He swallowed hard, his member throbbing in his cage at the thought of being seen in his predicament.

Bolt was about to speak up when Cinder suddenly strode forwards and walked straight up to the sitting canine. The caracel leaned down, his whiskers tickling the front of Bolt's muzzle as he firmly and deliberately replaced the pacifier bulb between Bolt's teeth.

"Can't forget the hush button. You be good now and maybe we'll bring you back a milk bone."

With a short, chitter of a laugh, Cinder departed with his briefcase in paw after Yuri who was already pulling out of their driveway. Bolt could only suckle helplessly on his pacifier as he watched the two cats leave, leaving him tied by the front door.

Bolt felt a little more pee dribble out of his cage as the silence of the house suddenly surrounded him when the last of the car engines faded into suburbia. Left to his own devices, strapped snuggly in a blue canvas straitjacket, and already beginning to feel the contents of his padding clamming up against his fur, Bolt pouted.

With every shifting of his weight, the dog's ears were filled with the rustling of the plastic between his legs. The burning in his cheeks subsided a minute later as Bolt was just beginning to accept the reality of being bored for the next few hours. He was wondering whether he would be able to get away with napping on the hardwood floor for the duration when his ears picked up the sound of paw pads scraping against concrete.

Bolt glanced towards the source of the noise, his ears perking up expectantly as he wondered whether it would be Yuri or Cinder coming back for something.

The canine's eyes widened as they met an equally surprised pair looking back from the curtained jowls of a Great Dane. Holding several envelopes in his paw, the tall maildog stood frozen, his paw halfway to the mailbox as he took in the sight of Bolt.

A furious blush blossoming beneath his fur, Bolt's brain raced as he tried to think of what he could possibly do in such a situation to save face. Unable to think of anything else, Bolt tilted his head to the side and back against in a nod of greeting.

Recovering from his shock, the Great Dane finished gingerly placing the envelopes inside of the house's mailbox before taking his phone out of his right hip pocket. Grinning, and shaking his head in disbelief he proceeded to take several photos of the sight before him.

Bolt, unappreciative of the lack of consent, pulled against the sleeves hugging him. The straps of his pacifier gag keeping the bulb firmly pressed against his tongue despite his protesting.

"Mmpf! Mmpf mmpf!"

Turning, the Great Dane gave a wave, his shoulders shaking with muffled laughter as he walked down the path leading away from the front door. Bolt looked down forlornly at the wet spot on the front of his padding.

The canine felt his erection pushing desperately against his cage as his heart pumped rapidly in his chest, the exhilaration at having been seen in such a helpless state further exacerbating his restricted libido. Bolt wanted to finish, and he wanted to finish badly. Reflexively, he felt his hips beginning to gyrate as his cage pressed hard into the sodden contents of his padding.

He had been fully domesticated by the two felines, and now the local mailman had witnessed their utter subordination of the canine. Bolt could feel himself becoming even more flustered as he realized just how little control over the situation he had. Bolt truly had no capacity to do anything else other than to wait out his timeout at home obediently.

Settling down on the carpet, Bolt glanced down at the swollen front of his padding which had now grown even thicker from his multiple wettings. Bolt hoped that the photos of him sitting in a thoroughly soaked diaper and straightjacket would not end up on too many websites that night. Shifting about, Bolt adjusted himself until he was lying with his back against the hardwood floor. Tormented by thoughts of what his workplace might think if a picture of him in his current predicament ever surfaced, he found himself drifting off into a fitful doze with a few minutes of settling down.