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He had brought me up onto the couch, his arm around me, my cheek against his shoulder, the television droning on in front of us. It might have been some late-night comedy show, or news, I didn't really notice. I was too busy rolling over the announcement in my mind, how my boss, my former boss, had looked when she came in, hours late, from some meeting or other. Where had I gone wrong? What moves could I have made differently? Who had I failed? All the coworkers I no longer had, all the people who would be moving away or changing careers, all the carefully laid plans and organizations for the spin-off company, for my career, my future never to be played out before my eyes. They had rejected me, rejected my work, declared me so valueless as to be better scrapped.

Even under Otis' broad, thick-furred, warm paw, I shivered. It was only a matter of time until he saw me for the worthless wretch I was and cast me out too, and I'd be truly alone. He couldn't understand. Why else did he seem so unmoved, so passionless, so optimistic about my future when it had clearly crumbled? Why would someone so stable, so kind, so noble as himself have cause to lower himself to see from my perspective? Why would he expect me to succeed, force himself to care about me? What must he think of me for having doubted him, accused him, attacked him? How stupid must I have been to do that? Why would he even want me in his life?

I didn't even notice when he lifted away from me, leaving me shivering and alone, slumped over, eyes staring into infinity, tears leaking slowly into my fur.

From somewhere in the dismal fog that clouded my mind a kind, familiar voice called out:

"Sherman, come to bed."

Master wanted me to follow him. He wanted me to accompany him. Normally, I'd want to go with, to lie with him, to please him, if he so desired, but now . . . how could I sully his presence with someone so wretched as myself? Misery left me paralyzed.

"Sherman, stand up, walk over here, and lie down in this bed."

The voice was no longer kind. It was a stern command. Master was commanding me. The fog was falling away, the world shrank. Master was commanding his Pet, and whatever dark future awaited, all I had to do in that moment was obey.

"That's it, Pet, I'm right here," he encouraged me as I stumbled into the bedroom, almost in a stupor, still lost in my own head.

I fell stiffly onto the mattress, as ordered, my eyes still seeing the mistakes of my past, the dismal fear of my future. Strong fingers grasped my shoulders, wriggling into muscles I hadn't even realized were locked tight, holding my body stiff, frozen, and shivering.

"I need you to try and relax for me," that voice called through the fog. I knew he was right. I knew nothing now could stop whatever dread horrors awaited. All my worry was as meaningless as the rest of me.

Those fingertips worked their way down either side of my spine, prompting my body to bend and stretch, loosening me from my locked position. They were warm, and trailed long, coarse fur through my fine pelt. I knew those fingers. I knew that touch. There was something right about being beneath my Master's paws. I wanted him to touch me, even if I knew I couldn't deserve it. The selfishness brought tears to my eyes.

"I'm going to take care of you, my Pet, right here. Whatever you need, I'll make sure we have it. It pleases me just to have you," he explained, paws squeezing the muscles of my legs, and then my arms. He must have known he was mistaken. He couldn't be a career, a circle of friends, coworkers. How long could he care for me before I no longer pleased him, a rabbit devoid of skills, a rabbit who had already struck out against him once this very evening?

He rolled me over, my limbs and spine noticeably looser, and knelt over me. With each held in the thumb and forefinger of one paw, he slowly squeezed his way up my ears. I gasped. Something about that felt good. Little tingles played over my fur. Something about me could still feel good. My Master could still feel good.

I was still shaking as I brought my gaze to focus at last upon his face. He was frowning, saddened by something. he looked up and down my body, splayed out upon the bed. At last, he leaned low over my belly, his paw reaching for the chain around his neck.

"Please, no!" I choked out the words. I couldn't, I didn't deserve such a reward. How could I ever have deserved it?

"Shh shh shh, my Pet. I want to give you this." His voice was low and calm, but it carried something important, something almost pleading.

"Please, I'm not . . . I'm supposed to please you, please don't let me fail at that too . . . not today," I cried, urgency mounting as I felt the key sliding into the lock securing the metal cage wrapped around my cock. I still couldn't bring myself to lift a paw against him. How could such a worthless Pet do such a thing?

"You haven't failed. You never could. I want this, for you. It pleases me to do this, and I want you to accept that. I hope it helps you, too."

I could feel the tube sliding from my length, still shriveled, my weeks of pent-up need buried beneath an avalanche of fear. Warm, massaging hands drew my nearly lime-sized balls through the steel band, one at a time, until at last I was free of the device, exposed to cool air.

My Master knelt between my spread legs, and took hold of my flaccid shaft. Only as I felt his fingers beginning to massage it, gently rubbing warmth into my most sensitive appendage, bombarded with his ginger touch after weeks of smooth steel confinement, did I bring my gaze to his green eyes.

My lips still quivered, my ears twitched, and my fur felt cold with nervous sweat. I stared up into Master's warm face. He was concerned for me. I felt so ashamed to be taxing my Master this way. Part of me knew I didn't deserve this, wanted to beg my Master to put the cage back on, to wait until I'd done something worth rewarding, but he'd made it clear this was what he wanted. Against my will, against my better judgement, weeks of lust won out as my pink length thickened in his grasp.

"Sherman, I need you to repeat after me." It was his "stern command" voice. It made the world simpler: all I had to do was obey.

"Yes, Master?"

"Master will take care of me."

"M-Master will t-take care of me." I repeated the words by rote. Just words. My mind was still rolling through how we'd make it through the next week, the next month. . .

"Keep repeating it." He used the same tone.

"Master will t-take care of me." His strong paw, still holding my length so gingerly, slid slowly over my glans, fingers playing along its underside, before returning back to my tip.

"Master will take care of me." With each word his gentle grip descended along my cock, tapping my silky crotch fur and my loose sac at "care," before sliding back up by the end of "me."

"Master will take care of me." My breathing was becoming slower, regular, more calming. The words came easier. The thick brown fur between the fingers of his strong bear paw ticked as it brushed up and down my length, reminding me Master was here to minister to my needs.

"Master will take care of me." His grip tightened just slightly in one smooth gliding stroke down and up my shaft, playing over each inch of skin. I was saying it quietly, just loud enough for him to hear, with each breath now. He'd been telling me this all day, that he'd find a way, but I couldn't help thinking over the money, the job hunt, what might have happened if . . .

"Master will take care of me." The phrase "take care" stood out in my voice. Master was caring for me. He was seeing to his Pet's needs. His paw massaged my cock, thumb working at my slit. His big, powerful, soft green eyes never left mine. He was smiling gently into his Pet's face. I was beginning to understand. The pent-up need in my balls, the lust in my blood began to flood back, released from the back of my mind where my fear and worries had kept it.

"MMMMMaster will take care of me." My heart fluttered. Half a moan forced its way through the words. It did feel good to be free of the cage. To feel my Master rubbing life back into my length, stretched and engorged for the first time in so long, aching as it regained its full seven inches, nearly two inches thick. His thumb and forefinger formed a tight ring, and he dragged them from tip to base, and back up.

"Master will take care of me." This time it came out hopeful. His thumb and forefinger dragged even slower and tighter down and up. My body wanted this. My balls were so swollen and full. I could feel the seed built up inside me. Pent-up lust pumped through my veins, making my cock twitch. Globs of pre drooled uncontrollably up my length and dribbled from my slit onto my Master's gentle, accepting paw. I hoped, undeserving though I was, that my Master would see fit to grant his Pet an orgasm, to "take care" of me in that way. He remained leaning over me, calm as ever, watching my face, my body, gentle concerned smile assuring me that I was being good, that I was doing as he wished, that I was pleasing him, that I would understand.

"Master will take care of me." My breathing, the words, my heart, everything was synchronized to Master's grip on my cock. I couldn't keep myself from squirming. All five strong fingers rolled down and up, slick with pre, trailing shaggy bear fur. My paws screamed desperately to assist my Master, to take hold of my own length and bring release, but I knew that was Master's role. I wasn't supposed to take care of myself.

"That's, it . . ." His low, encouraging words rolled over me like a wave of fulfillment.

"Master will take care of mEEEE." A squeak forced itself from deep within my bunny chest as a second strong, reassuring bear paw took hold of my lime-sized balls. Master's fingers caressed the short, fine fur of his Pet's plush sac, already tightening in anticipation. As his paw slid along my bunny-hood, it pushed before it a wave of lust, of need that washed through my body, over my skin, rippling through my fur and muscles.

"Master will take care of me." I felt so vulnerable, so exposed to his touch, so weak beneath his grip. And yet, I didn't want to move away; I didn't want to stop him. This was my place, at the paws of my Master. He chose me to be his Pet, to see to my needs. His strong arms would always support me. His broad paws could never hurt me. In his hands, I'd always be cared for. He squeezed my overfull orbs gently together, making me shudder in need. His strokes along my shaft were speeding up with my breath, as I repeated the words faster and faster.

"Master will take care of me!" I must have been almost shouting as I writhed against my desperate need to hump into his paws, to thrust against his grip, to drive myself faster than Master's wishes. My arms and legs pressed against the bedsheets, my ears stiffened, my eyes closed. One bear paw clenched on my tip before releasing to brush down and up my throbbing, dribbling, needy bunny cock, while the other ground my rabbit balls gently against each other in their plush sac.

"Good Bunny." My already rapid heartbeat redoubled when my sensitive ears picked up his low whisper. Master approved! What more could his Pet desire?

"Master will take care of me." The words were pleading this time as my hips gave way. I bucked slightly against the bed and into his plunging grip, the excitement, the stimulation, the pleasure overwhelming my fears, my thoughts, even my desire to serve in submissive obedience. The paw wrapping my balls squeezed as I hilted in his fingers, rewarding my thrust before I fell back against the mattress.

"That's right." His soft, almost growled encouragements were barely audible over my pounding heart and writhing limbs. That was right. It felt right, the way I bucked, responding to Master's touch. The way I pleaded for his care, and he was giving it so willingly.

"Master will take care of me." I thrust again into his willing, receiving grip, his strong furry paw squeezing and sliding over my length. My Master kneaded and caressed his Pet's balls, fueling the desire that was his to fuel, driving the pleasure that was his to give. Even as my body slipped from my control, he accepted it into his. I trusted him to care for me.

"Master WILL take care of me." I forced my eyes open again on "WILL," crying out with the effort. Master's broad, strong frame stood over me, his confident eyes took in my body, his arms ministered to my needs. The warm smile on his noble muzzle took everything in its stride. Everything was under his control. Everything was going to be ok. My hips bucked and thrust. My fingers dragged through the sheets beneath me. My cock oozed and twitched in need. My balls screamed their weeks of frustration and denied pleasure redoubled and rekindled with Master's teasing, squeezing, massaging paw. My nose took in ragged, barely controlled breaths, smelling my own sweat, my fading fear, my rising lust, musk, dripping drooling need, and Master's powerful, confident scent over it all. By his musk I knew he was enjoying this physically, and by his smile, emotionally. I was his, and it was so right.

"Master will take care of me. Master will take care of me. Master will take care of me. Master will take care of me. Master will take care of me. Master will take care of me. Master will take care of me. Master will take care of me. Master will take care of me. Master will take care of me. Master will take care of me. Master will take care of me. Master will take care of me. Master will take care of me." I pounded away into his fist. My lungs, my voice, my hips, my whole body struggled to keep pace with his paws, caressing and stroking, squeezing my cock, rolling and grinding my balls. My head rolled back and my eyes closed again. Sweat broke out again over my fur, but no longer out of fear or nervousness: this time it was heat and exertion. My right heal dug again and again into the sheets, my leg shaking my frame, stamping in a fit of need. My nose and mouth took in the scent and taste of sweat and sex, of Master and Pet, of bunny and bear. My Master was guiding me, driving me closer, so very close.

"Good Pet." His low whisper must have wandered straight into my brain. My ears never could have heard him over the rushing blood, the frantic wet thrusts, the thump of furred hips against arms, clenching pumping plush bunny rump against bedsprings, paws against white bunny fluff, limbs thrashing against sheets, my own voice crying out in desperation, the internal shouts of every extremity of my body, three weeks' worth of need crying out in my mind. Yet those two simple words, my Master's words, were the world to me: I was his Pet, and I was Good. Nothing else could matter.

"M-Master!" I forced my head to face upwards, my eyes open, desperate for his attention. "WILL!" I shouted, I needed him to understand how close I was, what I was about to do. My fluffy sac tightened in his grip, my cock twitched hard with each rapid beat of my heart. My muscles shook and spasmed. I needed him to want me to do it. "Take care of me!" I couldn't hold back any more. My blue eyes pleaded, wide soft pools of need, waiting for his calm reassuring gaze to grant me yet another sign I was doing as he wished, pleasing him. With another firm, rapid stroke down my length, working against my uncontrollable bucking hips, another squeezing grind of my balls, I was over the edge, nothing could stop the pressure welling up from deep within me, the roar building in my ears, behind my eyes, through my skin.

"Cum for me, my beautiful bunny boy Pet." He used his calm, commanding voice, and the world shrank. All I had to do, all I could do, was obey.

"Master Wiiiiiilllll!" My head snapped back, my eyelids clenched shut, and the roar overwhelmed me. It was Master's will. Every muscle in my body, every hair in my pelt resonated with his powerful paws. One, two, three quick final strokes before my bunny buns clenched, driving me upward into his tight grasp, sliding so forcefully, so firmly over my length, gripping down on my cock head while his other fist clenched on my desperate, long-denied balls. Every muscle contracted, every hair stood on end as I writhed, my Master's helpless ball of fur, forcing a wail from my lungs, as some hot, molten, magma core of thick white, potent rabbit seed drained from every inch of me, every muscle forcing it through my desperate bunny-hood.

In one eternal moment, that powerful flow drained weeks of frustration, of need, of fear and lust and worry, pumping, pushing, erupting through each inch of my length, past each of my Master's strong, confident, guiding, coaxing, squeezing fingers until it fired: a long, flowing arch over my head, splattering against the wall, unleashing its salty, musky bunny scent. Rope after rope burst forth, worry and tension erupting from me, streaking the sheets, my fur, my chest, my face in weeks of pent-up bunny cum. It covered my nose and my mouth, my nipples and my chest, my belly and my balls. Stars burst behind my eyelids, and every one of them was Master. Warmth and relief filled my ragged chest, and it was Master. Confident, comfortable exhaustion engulfed me, and it was Master. Powerful paws relieved me of all my fears, and they were Master. Master was and always would be everything I needed, anything I needed him to be.

When at last the hot jets of cum slowed to a mere oozing trickle, my helpless, exhausted body streaked in the results of my undeserved orgasm, I could open my eyes. Master was smiling, more than his confident, overseeing smile: he was glad I was no longer afraid. My ears had stopped twitching. My body wasn't shaking. I understood. I am my Master's Pet, and he loves me. Master would be, would do, everything, anything I needed.

"Take care of me?" It was a quiet, soft plea, but one I knew he'd never refuse. However undeserving I was, unemployed and rejected, a wracked body stained in unearned cum, wreaking of sweat and scared rabbit, in his eyes, I was always his beautiful bunny boy Pet. He lowered himself to me. With one long, loving lick of his broad tongue he cleaned the streaks of cum from my nose and face, leaving my fur ruffled and wet with his scent, my Master's scent. He pressed my stained, musky, fine fur into his thick shaggy coat, his clean, confident muzzle beside my exhausted, bedraggled face. His strong, reassuring arms held me close, unfazed by however unclean I might have been: a tight, warm embrace that would last all night. He whispered:

"Always."