FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter one of Early Retirement

Written by: Blackfire Writing assistance by: Slothdog Editing assistance by: Guri *and * Shakal

It was getting dark, and there was a chain of cars stretching out as far as Chris could see. He sighed and fiddled with the radio. It'd been dead for years, but the pitbull made an effort anyway, and he thought he felt a little better for trying.

He glanced at the package sitting on the front seat, a wrapped box about the size of his head, and tapped his hand against the steering wheel.

At twenty five years of age, Chris was going nowhere in life. Every day he woke up, showered and ate breakfast. At seven thirty he left for work, and at five thirty he left for home. Finally, the young man fell asleep in front of his laptop before the cycle repeated itself the next day.

Whenever his quota-focused boss asked for 'volunteers' to work extra shifts, he'd pin the young pitbull with a gaze, grinning. So while the rest of the office shrugged and started to log off from their workstations, the white and brown furred canine's hand rose shakily up into the air, volunteering to get his department caught up while his coworkers enjoyed their weekend.

And this weekend his boss strolled down to his cubicle and draped his arm over the side and asked him if he had plans.

He did, but then his boss raised an eyebrow and tapped his fingers against the cubicle's plastic and he felt his stomach sink past his feet when he realized that he was probably not going to be able to go to the art exhibit this weekend and that he'd be spending it reviewing expense accounts, which he made sure to go over carefully because any mistakes his boss couldn't write off were sure to come from his salary.

"No, nothing important, I suppose" the pitbull said.

"Good." His boss smiled, the wolf's lips curling up to the side of his jaws. "Because you'd better get a start on it now."

The manager then held up a package which he tossed it to the dog. Chris fumbled for it, and it landed heavily in his lap.

The wolf glanced down the hall, while Chris sat there nervously and tried not to look at the wolf.

"This needs to be in our sister office by Monday morning. Sensitive information. Can't trust the mail." The wolf toss him a hundred bucks. "For gas. And if you fuck up, it's your ass on the line, got it?"

"Y-yes, sir. I got it."

He got it, alright. He always 'got it.' If it was anything important at all it was his boss's responsibility to get it there. But, like always, Chris was the one getting the short end.

The wolf tapped his fingers against the side of the stall. "I've got to be going, so-"

"Sir, how do I get there?"

The wolf blinked. "You drive. Obviously."

Chris moistened his lips. "I-I mean, I don't have any way to find it, or-"

"Use your GPS."

"S-sir, I don't have a GPS."

The wolf looked surprised. "What, really? You living in the 90s, or what?" He shrugged. "Fine."

He walked quickly back to his office, and a moment later appeared with a stained and rumpled sheet of paper. "A map. In paper. Any more excuses?"

"W-well, sir, it's just that I had other plans for this weekend, so maybe I could some take time off next week and--"

The wolf held up a finger and shushed him. "And nothing. I'm your boss, and I'm giving you an order. After it's done we can discuss the subject of next week's schedule further, if you insist."

By the time the pitbull regained his composure, his boss was already down the hall. He could hear the sound of feminine giggling, and the click of high heels against the floor along with the rough growls of his boss. Of course. His plans didn't mean much when his boss had a date. Chris packed up. The footsteps faded away; the lights in the office were almost all off. It was almost seven, and Chris was the last one in the office. Even the janitor had left.

He headed down to his car, package in tow. He watched in the rear-view mirror as his boss climbed into a blue Mercedes, giggling little vixen in tow. Chris felt a pang resentment when he saw more evidence that only results in the business world seemed to confer material rewards Dignity, integrity, hard work, and good intentions mattered little when you could show off your fancy new car, apparently. She was too good for the wolf, but he'd never tell her that. She'd have to find out on her own.

At this point, earlier in the day, he had sighed and climbed into his car. It took three tries before the ancient machine finally sputtered to life. Even so, it let out alarming creaking noises when it moved, and if he ever had to take it to a mechanic to be fixed he'd probably get back nothing except a rusty bucket of nuts and bolts, with a bill for the priest who had to perform the exorcism.

So this wasn't going to be a relaxing trip. Plus, to arrive at his destination with a comfortable amount of buffer time he'd have to break a few speed limits. And if, like normal, the cops snuck up on him with a ticket, the odds of his company compensating him for the loss were very small. Nonexistent, actually.

Although that didn't seem like a problem right now. He'd been stuck in traffic for half an hour already, and it didn't seem like it was going to clear up any time soon. Reminiscing over his shitty day sure didn't seem to make the cars in front of him move along any faster.

He groaned. It was going to be tight as it was. At this rate, he'd end up driving all night.

"Why does this shit always, always, always have to happen to me?"

He heard a honk from behind him, and the young pitbull noticed that the car in front of him had pulled up slightly. There was now almost a car length between him and the next car in front.

Chris lifted his foot and felt his car lurch forward again. And stopped. He heard the sounds of the engine sputter to a stop. "Oh, fuck. Not now."

There were honks starting behind him. He tried to start the car, turned the keys again and again, but there wasn't much he could do about the car at this point.

It was several minutes before the ignition finally clicked, and in the meantime several cars had swerved to the right on the dirt shoulder to pass the new obstruction on the road. Several of the drivers shot him accusing looks as they passed him, as if he were somehow to blame for the traffic in the first place. His shoulders slumped. He gave the drivers a weak little smile and waved apologetically.

But that gave him an idea. Past the shoulder was a small dirt track along the side of the highway.

Maybe if...

He turned his car to the right and drove several meters until he reached an area of the road where the barrier between the highway and the feeder road fell off. There was just a little ditch in this way, barely two or three feet deep, and even his car would be able to navigate it long enough to make it to the feeder road.

He checked his map. The road wasn't even marked. He'd have a hell of a time finding his way back. On the other hand, if there really was an accident, or some serious road condition, it wasn't going to end anytime soon. And how hard could it really be to get back on track?

So he took another look at the thick, scratchy growth beside the road and took the plunge, and the sound of branches scraping against metal and the bounce of the car as the windshield filled entirely with greenery, and he closed his eyes and hoped his car didn't stall.

Several bumpy minutes later, he turned out of the bushes and was on the small dirt track beside the road watching the stalled cars fade into the distance. He pulled a branch stuck behind his left mirror out and tossed it to the side of the road. Hah! Finally, something worked today.

The pitbull smiled. The car sped up, and for a little while the countryside sped past him, and it was heaven.

Well, better than his normal purgatory, at least. He cracked the window open. Something about the rush of the scenery around him, the green yellow blur of the trees in full summer dress and the fields heavy with wheat, or soybeans, or whatever it was they grew here, something about it mixed with the scent of fresh earth flowing in through the window and made him feel oddly satisfied. In a way, this was almost like a vacation. His "job" was just to drive today, and, well, that was an improvement over sitting in a cubicle.

Now if only he had someone in the car with him...

But soon, he spotted the red glare of taillights in the distance and brought his car to a rusty, screeching halt.

He slammed his hand against the dashboard. The feeder road also was backed up. What now? Not only was he off the path, his gamble hadn't even paid off.

But...

There was a spot of white in the corner of his eye. A gravel track. Not even that, in some places, the dirt bare and brown. And there was nothing in that direction he could see except clumps of trees and empty fields...

He checked his map. The road was just a bit to the left of the setting sun. Northwest. The path was at least heading in the right direction. And if he was going to waste time somewhere, he might as well waste it moving instead of on a highway that had turned into one long parking lot. After all, he'd already taken himself off the most direct route and was still going nowhere. Why not double down and keep moving? It also occurred to the pitbull that if he let his car idle too much longer, it might not recover next time it sputtered and turned off.

Chris preferred it when people stuck to the plan, even if the plan was clearly written by someone who had no idea what they were talking about (which happened often in the business world). But he felt he was running out of time and out of options.

He glanced at the package beside him again. How much trouble would he really get in if it were late? Worst case, he'd be fired and couldn't pay his rent next month. 'Oh joy', he sarcastically mused to himself.

He flicked his blinker on, and with a sigh headed further still from the the original path.

---

Finally, after becoming well and truly lost, the canine was deeply relieved when he finally spotted a house. And with it, perhaps the possibility of having a gainful conversation with someone who actually lived in and knew this woodland area.

At the end of the dirt road, an hour's drive from the last sign of civilization, and Chris offered up a silent thanks for this tiny shred of hope as he steered his car into the driveway.

It was a quiet, three story house. The outside was paneled with wood, and there was a large grey square on top of the house that shone in the sunlight; a solar panel.

The pitbull turned off the engine and got out of the car. He walked up to the front door. The porch lights were off; was anyone home? But then again, why would anyone who lived this far out waste electricity on porch lights unless they were expecting guests?

He crossed his fingers and knocked on the door. Chris offered up another quick silent prayer in the small hope that someone -- anyone! -- was looking out for him up there.

Thirty seconds passed. Then a full minute. He knocked again, louder, and louder, something seething inside him, until he could hear the pounding echoing through the house and out into the forest that surrounded the dog and the house on all sides.

At last, the door porch lights came on and the door opened up. On the other side of the threshold stood an older looking bull, big in every sense of the world. Tall, muscular, but sporting a bit of grey fur in some places, he towered over the pitbull and Chris shuffled backwards to make room for him.

The bull frowned at him, and Chris stood silently. The brought one hand up to cradle his elbow and anxiety made his stub tail stay still behind him.

The bull's lip curled. "Well? You gonna state your business or what?"

He swallowed. "Oh, um, sorry about that! I was just so happy that someone was home. I'm, uhhh... not sure where I am, to be honest." Chris looked at the man again. The stranger narrowed his eyes, and Chris coughed and continued. "I guess, I mean to say, I'm lost. Can you give me directions back to the highway? Also, could I use your phone real quick? Mine doesn't seem to be getting any reception out here. I hate to impose on you, but this is really important."

The bull leaned out the door. His chest was inches from Chris's face, and the pitbull caught a hint of his scent, deep and musky. The bull's eyes fixed on the dog's beat up car.

The stranger grunted and scanned his eyes over his property. "You alone? I don't want a bunch of kids on my property."

Chris's ear twitched. "Yes, sir. Just me. And I promise, I won't be any trouble. I just need a landline phone since my cell isn't getting any bars."

"Of course it ain't. No towers around here. I own all the property around this house for miles." He grinned, teeth glinting in the light. "They asked me once if I'd consider letting them put a tower on my property, and so I told 'em exactly what they could do with that notion."

The pitbull swallowed. "Oh... I guess that makes sense. In that case..."

"Yeah. Phone. You need one. I heard ya the first time." The bull shrugged. "There is no phone."

"I'm sorry?" Chris blinked. No phone? Did he suddenly fall back in time?

"You sure this is important to ya?" The bull leaned down into Chris's face. He could smell the stench of alcohol on man's breath and he took another step back. "You don't seem to be paying very close attention. There is no phone. I never had one installed. I don't like calls and I do like my privacy. I'm retired."

"Fuck." Chris winced, but the man didn't seem to notice his outburst. "I-I mean... sorry. It's just been one of those days. Okay... no phone... got it. How about directions?"

The bull grunted. "You getting smart with me, boy?"

"No! No, sir. Not at all. I just feel like I'm really imposing on you right now, and want to let you get back to your evening is all, s-so if possible, could you do me a huge favor and point out the turns that will take me back to the highway?" The canine's voice was almost a squeak by the time he was done talking, hands clasped together as if in prayer.

The man wore the same reaction, gruff and immovable. "I could do that, sure. But it wouldn't do you any good."

"Sir?"

"You don't get out to the countryside much, do ya?" He snorted. "The sun's setting, kid. Once that big ball of light goes down, you'll get lost on those unlit back roads faster than you can say 'fuck me sideways'. No street lights, no signs, and no landmarks. You're shit out of luck, mutt."

Chris turned his head and looked over the tree line towards the now purple and pink dusk-colored sky. He could barely make out the gravel on the path.

Fuck. Fuck. "Um. Sir, I... hate to ask you this... but..."

The bull held up a hand. "Don't tell me. You're wondering if I got a spare room for ya, for the night?"

"Y-yes, sir. I got some leftover food from a gas station I stopped earlier in the day, s-so I don't need dinner or anything, just a bed and maybe a shower, if it's n-"

"Fine. But it's gonna cost you."

Chris looked up. There was an odd gleam in the property owner's eye. "I-I have some cash on me. How much were you think-"

"We'll settle up later." The man turned away from the youth. He plodded inside, without bothering to look behind him to see if the pitbull was following. "Spare bedroom is up upstairs, third door to the right. Shower is across the hall. Kitchen is downstairs... can't miss it. I just made myself a pitcher of lemonade." The bull disappeared around a corner, feet stomping against the wood floor, and Chris heard his voice call out from around the corner. "I'll pour ya a glass. Feel free to come down and grab it once you've showered. Don't take the glass out of the kitchen and don't make a mess. Got it?"

"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!"

Things were looking up again. More than they were a few minutes ago, anyway. Chris ran to his car to grab a change of clothes. He'd probably have to pull an all-nighter tomorrow, but he would still be able to make it! As long as he made sure to get a few written directions from the bull in the morning.

The dog grabbed some necessities and hurried back inside. There were a few clinking sounds from his left down a winding hallway, the sound of a cupboard opening and closing. The house was lined with wood panels.

Calling out to the stranger, the office worker said, "S-sir, I'm going to use the bathroom, if that's okay with you, sir."

There was a snort in the distance. "Good. You smell like a shitty car."

---

After a quick ten minute shower the dog poked his head in the bedroom before heading downstairs for the glass of lemonade. He was already a bit intimidated by his host and didn't want to do anything that might offend the man, who right now appeared to be his sole lifeline in what was turning into a bit of a crisis.

On his way to the kitchen Chris passed by the entrance to the living room, spotting the man sitting in his easy chair watching his shows on the television.

'Best to let sleeping bulls lie. I won't bother him anymore tonight. Hopefully he'll be a bit more helpful come mourning. Or, at least, less cranky after he rests up... and sobers up. Since he values his privacy so much, I bet that by the time I wake up tomorrow he'll have already written up some directions, just so he can get me out of his house as soon as possible.'

Finding the kitchen with little difficulty, the pitbull chugged down the tall bitter-sweet glass of lemonade before heading upstairs to the guest bedroom.

'Not that it looks like this guy ever has any company over. Shit... I didn't even ask him for his name. That's going to be a little awkward tomorrow. Maybe it won't come up. He didn't ask me for my name, after all. But, boy, this house is nice. And huge, too. Big rooms and wood floors. Wonder how much it costs for a house all the way out here? Probably a lot cheaper than in the middle of downtown, I imagine. Picture of a feral dog on the wall. Feral dogs are weird. That was a weird thought. That was a weird thought about a weird thought.'

Chris' mental dialogue followed down this path for a bit longer before he started to notice something was wrong.

'Why... am I thinking this way? My head... it's... I'm really starting to feel a bit off...'

Seconds later, the young man's felt his legs fall out from under him as he hit the hardwood floor with a thud.

'This isn't right... what's happening--... I can't--....'

The canine felt his body begin to feel numb all over. From his vantage point on the a crumpled heap on the ground, Chris could see the door open and was able to move his eyes upward in response as the large bull came in. He realized he should be panicking right now as he watched the man walk over and take the cell phone out of his pocket, but something was muddling his thoughts and he felt the whole world blur until all he could see was the brown of the man's fur as a blob in front of him.

He heard a plastic snap loudly somewhere above him. His phone, a detached part of his mind noted. Then there was a warmth around his chest and a sense of movement, and the brown spun into white and fading black. He came to rest with something sharp poking him under his stomach, and the pitbull felt every step of the bull's feet as his host carried him downstairs slung like a sack of rice.

"There we go. Time to get you set up downstairs so I can move your car into the garage. That piece of crap you drove here didn't look like something you'd expect to find a GPS in, but better safe than sorry, right? Not that you'd know much about being careful. Oh to be young and dumb again..."

Soon it became impossible to focus on the bull's mumbled words, and the canine fell into a deep sleep.

---

Chris awoke with a start. There was something about the vertical position he was in and his last fractured memories before falling asleep that kicked his adrenal gland into overdrive.

Not that it did him the least bit of good. The increasingly frightened pitbull immediately noticed that he was shackled to a padded leather table that was tipped at such an extreme angle that he was sure he'd off slipped right off it had he not been tied to the table with an absurd amount of straps.

Craning his head to look around at every angle he could get a bead on, the canine immediately set to testing just how secure the bindings were while realizing that, aside from a single naked bulb hanging overhead, the room he found in appeared featureless due to the darkness hugged claustrophobically close to the table.

'Where the fuck am I?! Oh, shit... that house. I'm still in that house in the middle of nowhere! In like his basement, or attic or something! This is bad, man! Real fucking bad!'

Hearing a creaking noise off to his right, the young pitbull stilled his deep breaths and listened hard for the latest panic-worthy development. The room he found himself in was nearly entirely dark except for a single light that shown above him.

When the bull stepped out from the darkness and into that light in front of him, Chris wished that he'd kept his eyes closed. More than that, he wished he had never stopped at this house out in the middle of nowhere. He wished that he'd told his boss to go fuck himself. He wished he had quit his job months ago. He wished, he wished, he wished...

"Stop your useless thinking and look at me," the massive brown and grey furred bull commanded in a tone that brooked no nonsense. "This is what your Master's body looks like. This is what you will serve for the rest of your life. Never doubt this. Never doubt me."

The sight was one that the pitbull would never forget.

He had already known from his first encounter with the man that he was large. But now the bull stood in front of him without a single shred of fabric covering him. Somehow the man was even more intimidating in the nude, with his chiselled abs, threatening pectorals, powerful arms, tree-truck thick legs, and... and...

"Yes, pup. Look at it. Look right at it. This cock has been waiting a long time for a kid as oblivious and cute as you to knock on my door."

This was suddenly far too real for the dread-filled canine. The bull's engorged, heavy-veined schlong brought reality crashing in for the underpaid office worker. The man wasn't joking, and this wasn't a joke. That shaft was all too real, too long, and somehow, unbelievably, it was nearly wrist thick.

Unable to tear his eyes away from the man's terrifying arousal, Chris started attempting to shout and scream for help, only to realize that his muzzle had been gagged.

"Let's not have any confusion stand between us. I like you. Not as a person, but as a possession. My possesion. The moment you stepped onto my property you became mine. You are my dog. My pet. My new cock holster. My kinky sex toy. With these indisputable facts before us, let's dispense with your begging. Your tears won't sway me. Your words won't change my mind."

Regardless of whether or not that was actually the case, the dog was more terrified than at any point previous, and so he carried on pulling at his restraints and screaming into his gag. His eyes stayed glued on the bull's massive erection, which had started to leak precum and bob up and down in the air. It looked... alive to Chris, his imagination turning it into some separate beast, somehow partially independent from the bull himself. To his intensely worried and overactive imagination, it seemed hungry... and very, very horny.

"I don't care who you were before you became my pet. I'll decide who you are from this day forward. I don't care what goal brought you to me. I'll determine your purpose in life from now on. I don't care if you use to be straight or gay. I control your sexuality. I don't care what use to get you off. I'll decide your kinks and fetishes. I don't care that you use to be a person with rights. You are my pet now. My word is law and I am your Master. I don't care if you don't believe me. You will."

The entirely naked bull stepped forward until the wet tip of his cock head poked up against the pitbull's limp sheath. Looking down between their bodies as the man's shaft poked and rubbed clear fluid on to his crotch fur, Chris whimpered, and finally closed his eyes.

'Shit. Shit. Shit! I'm naked. He stripped me. He stripped me while I was unconscious! I'm in such deep shit. Oh man... Please let this be a joke. A bad dream! Anything!'

Gripping the boy's chin and pulling it firmly up so as to force eye contact, the dominant man ripped the gag out of Chris' mouth and said:

"I don't care that you don't like me. Because I fell in love with you the moment I saw you standing on my front porch."

The canine had no idea how to process anything the horny, domineering bull just said to him, and he was only thrown further into emotional confusion and shock as the man leaned in and forced him into the most passionate kiss of his life.

It went on and on as the bull's powerful tongue plowed into the pitbull's mouth, wrestling the unexpecting boy's tongue out of the way and exploring every inch of his muzzle. Unable to resist much at all due to the padded tables bindings, Chris was unable to prevent the self-appointed Masters advances -- neither his long, drawn out kiss nor his hands which actively swept possessively over the dog's body.

The bull set out to prove that every bit of pet's body was within his dominion and under his control. The man tweaked nipples, fondled ass cheeks, cupped balls, diddled boy chute, and eventually stroked firm slave dick when Chris was unable to prevent himself from sexually responding.

The pitbull's fire was purposely, agonizingly stoked, touch by touch and stroke by stroke. Unable to resist, he was pushed constantly closer to the edge. Emotionally, he'd never been this conflicted about an impending climax. On the one hand, his need to cum was acute. The bull's hands... his kissing... his stud-like body... his beautiful, terrifying cock. They were a wet dream made real and nearly impossible to ignore. On the other hand, Chris knew that, should he jizz all over the man's hand, cock, and stomach, the merciless man would take it as implicit permission that the boy was giving in. That he was, in an unspoken way, giving himself over voluntarily as a pet.

In this end, though, this line of thought ended up being a false dilemma for the white and brown furred pitbull. His new Master had decided he was going to make his new dog shoot, and that was, plainly speaking, that.

And so, tongue pinned to the bottom of his mouth, right ass cheek cupped, fully erect and knotted shaft jerked mercilessly, Chris came like never before. Eyes closed and body shuddering, string after stream of puppy batter flew directly onto and into the fur of his bull Master as the canine moaned into the man's mouth.

The dog jizzed so hard his balls throbbed and ached. Then, in an almost eerie display of understanding, the bull used one hand to continue milking his pet's cock while the other began gently massaging his balls through their loose skin sack. Opening his eyes, Chris saw his kidnapper staring right back at him -- a light in the man's eyes that spoke of a certainty. A certainty that the Master felt he knew what his pet needed, well before the slave himself did.

Pulling back and finally breaking the kiss, the bull methodically milked the boy's cock of every drop as both panted for breath, each taking the measure of the other as their lungs sucked in fresh air.

Eventually, it was the bound boy spoke first.

Breathlessly, he said, "I won't... I won't thank you."

Smiling only with his eyes, the bull replied, "You already did." as his he used his thumb and forefinger to squeeze out the last drop of the dog's cum into the palm of his hand.