FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

He took a deep breath, and then knocked on the door.

Danny was quite typical for a cat. He was fiercely independent. He was unshakeably self-confident. He had a slim, athletic build and was very light on his feet.

He was also a thief.

Not all cats were thieves, of course. In fact, the vast majority of them weren't. His parents were prime examples of that; librarians, both of them, who spent their time playing chess and starting book clubs and collecting stamps or coins or shells or anything else they could find that was incredibly, unbearably boring. Danny couldn't think of a worse way to have grown up.

That's why he started to steal - just for the thrill and excitement of it. It started with shop-lifting, and then moved on to purse-diving and wallet-snatching. But before long that wasn't enough, and he decided to move into that most feline of occupations: The cat burglar.

Danny spent night after night breaking into homes, often while the occupants were still inside, and taking as much as he could without getting caught. He was good at it, too. What he took wasn't always valuable, but it wasn't always easy, either. He learned how to take paintings out of frames without making a noise, and how to find a hidden diary in a teenager's room without leaving anything out of place once he'd left.

Oh yes, Danny was very good at what he did.

Which made it even more embarrassing when he finally got caught.

It wasn't even a spectacular failure that could lead to an amusing prison story - he'd edged open a window while the occupant (a Rottweiler, as it transpired, though he didn't find out until the court case) was away, and moved quietly from room to room snatching the occasional DVD and necklace, and then after a few minutes made it back to the window and into the street beyond, leaving absolutely nothing behind.

He had no idea the stupid mutt had left her webcam on. With that footage, the trial was swift and decisive. The dog who he'd stolen from didn't even show up; she didn't need to. Danny's guilt was unquestionable.

If anything, he was lucky that the judge had given him the option - since this was his first offence (Danny had thought it prudent not to correct them on that) he could avoid a short stay in prison if he opted for a few weeks of restorative justice. That was how he ended up stood at the Rottweiler's front door, ready for a tough month or so of pretending to do chores.

Now he was actually here, though, it seemed like no one was in. Rolling his eyes, Danny lifted his hand to knock again, when the door suddenly swung open. Seeing his victim for the first time, Danny's heart leapt into his mouth.

She wasn't at all what he had expected. Hearing about her in court, Miss Arger sounded like some poor old biddy, some vulnerable soul who was left shaken and afraid by Danny's ruthless invasion of her private home. Instead, the Rottweiler standing before him looked young, independent and utterly unmoved at being confronted by the thief who broke into her home. Her expression suggested he was nothing but an inconvenience in her day, some irritating box that needed to be ticked (or, the unhelpful part of Danny's brain substituted, some fly that needed to be swatted). Even her clothing wasn't what he had predicted. She wore a black shirt with some blood and guts heavy metal band Danny couldn't even read the name of, and a pair of heavy-set jeans that ended in completely bare feet.

But what really stood out was the size of her.

No one could call her fat (at least not until a safe distance away. Like Pluto), but she certainly had a full figure. In fact, she almost filled the doorway she was standing in, the tips of her folded ears scraping the top of the frame, one broad shoulder leaning on the left side and large hips pressing against the right, blocking Danny's view further into the house. All told, she was almost twice the cat's size in both directions, being naturally tall, visibly muscular and just a little bit paunchy. Despite this, though, she held herself very gracefully, and must have been able to move lightly on her feet, as Danny hadn't heard anyone approach the door before it opened.

"Ah," she rumbled in a deep, canine voice, "you must be dinner."

Danny felt his mouth run dry, and his natural charm fail him. He managed to stammer, "Actually, it's pronounced 'Danny'".

"That's what I said," the Rottweiler explained, waving a spade-like hand dismissively. "Anyway, you'd better come in."

She turned easily on her feet and took several steps into the house, before glancing over her shoulder and patting her leg three times. "Come," she ordered, and Danny found himself almost leaping at her command. He closed the door as he passed into the house and fell into a quick trot behind Miss Arger, rushing to keep up with her enormous, calm strides.

"You'll be working in the kitchen today," she explained over one shoulder, "sweeping and dusting, mostly. You'll want this." Here she threw a duster in his direction, and in slapped into his face before he caught it in both hands. Entered the kitchen, Danny was struck immediately by how small it was. Perhaps it was simply the effect of the towering Miss Arger standing in _any_room, but there really didn't seem to be many shelves or cooking appliances, and when his host opened one of the few cupboards to grab a glass, it seemed that there were very few utensils inside; just two glasses, two plates, a bowl and mug. Danny thought that she must have to wash up several times a day if she had to keep cycling through those few after every meal (and from the look of her, she certainly had plenty of those).

Miss Arger filled her glass to the brim with water, gulped it down loudly in a matter of seconds, and then repeated the process a further two times. After this, she lapped at her lips with an enormous tongue and placed the glass to one side. Then she looked down at Danny (at her height there was very little other way for her to look at him) and folded her arms.

"Right then," she said, "The court tells me I'm supposed to be keeping an eye on you, but I don't really fancy spending my afternoon watching someone do chores, so I'll make a deal with you: get this place clean and don't do anything you shouldn't, and I'll consider going easy on you when you come back tomorrow. But I do mean spotless. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss Arger," Danny said, fully intending to cut every corner necessary for the room to seem spotless by the end of the day, and absolutely planning on not doing anything he shouldn't while she was around. The Rottweiler dismissively waved again.

"And that's another thing. Don't call me Miss Arger," she said, "Call me Liz."

"Erm, right! Sure thing, Liz!"

And with that, Miss Arger - Liz - made to leave. She turned back only to point and insist "Spotless", before turning to the other corner of the kitchen and adding "That goes for you too." Then she left for good, closing the door behind her and vanishing from view. When she had gone, Danny immediately turned to the second person she had addressed, an individual so quiet and absolutely tiny that the cat hadn't even noticed him for the first five minutes of being in the room.

It was a mouse. More specifically, it was a young mouse boy who couldn't have been more than ten, wearing clothes that were clearly too large for him - although Danny supposed very few clothes wouldn't have been. This mouse had a wipe and kitchen cleaner already in hand, and the moment Miss Arger had left the room, he set about cleaning the oven door, spraying and wiping almost silently. Danny leaned back against the countertop and considered the small boy.

"Little young to be a criminal, aren't you?" he asked, smirking. The diminutive mouse looked up.

"I live here," he squeaked.

"Ah," Danny nodded, "So... is Miss Arger your mum?"

The mouse stared, but said nothing.

After a moment, Danny added: "Your step-mum?"

The silence stretched, until the mouse wordlessly went back to cleaning. Danny frowned, and then decided it best to begin his own chores. It wouldn't look at all good if Miss Arger returned and he hadn't at least started. So for almost five minutes, no sound emitted from either of them, except for the squeak of cleaned glass and the whisper of the duster wiping along surfaces. Eventually, Danny couldn't take the boredom anymore and broke the silence.

"I'm Danny," he blurted out in the direction of his cleaning companion.

A sullen stare. A pause.

"What's your name, kid?" the cat prompted. This at least had some effect. The mouse looked at his feet and shuffled awkwardly.

"Breakfast," he said finally.

Danny frowned. "Your name's Breakfast?"

The mouse nodded glumly. Danny scratched his chin in thought.

"Huh. So... what is that, like, Swedish or something?"

The mouse met his gaze with a strange expression. After some time, he squeaked, "You won't be here long."

"Erm... thanks," Danny mumbled, giving up on the conversation and walking pointedly to the other side of the kitchen. Swedish people are weird, he thought to himself. He stood whipping the duster back and forth absent-mindedly, staring around at nothing in particular, but when he caught the mouse's eye again and saw something that seemed a lot like disapproval, he sighed and returned to working.

As he ran the duster along a small bookshelf, he found himself reading the spines; they seemed to be cookbooks, mostly. A thin volume entitled Eating With Friends was followed by a noticeably more worn book that seemed, through the countless creases, to be called Eating Friends.

Must be a misprint, Danny thought, moving to dust the spice rack. He buffed the tops of various spice bottles, making them spin and clatter, until he got to the end and spotted a small envelope wedged into the far corner, behind the oregano and sage. It was unsealed, and labelled simply "Bank". Standing on his tiptoes and peering in closely, Danny could just make out a thick wad of notes tucked inside.

The young cat felt a familiar flutter in his chest, and he licked his lips slightly. Of course he shouldn't try anything. He was in enough trouble as it was, and Miss Arger seemed like she could absolutely kill him if he stepped out of line. But that was the fun of the whole thing. There was a certain thrill involved, and it was a thrill Danny hadn't felt since the last time he broke into a house while the occupants had a family meal downstairs.

He stole a quick glance over his shoulder; the mouse was half-inside the oven now, utterly engaged in busily wiping down the scorch marks along the sides. In the distance, the sound of canned laughter suggested Miss Arger was watching television. Now seemed like an excellent time.

With deft movements, masked by the duster tickling the sides of the spice rack quietly, a dexterous paw shot out and latched onto the money. Then, with the slightest of flourishes, the fingers twitched, and the money was free. The little bottle of sage didn't so much as rattle as it eased back onto the now empty envelope behind it, and a very smug Danny tucked what must have been several hundred pounds into his jean pockets. His task complete, he returned to his dusting as if nothing had happened.

"You should put that back," squeaked a voice quietly. Danny's heart sunk.

No way... he thought, as he tried to calculate his next moves carefully, no way did he hear me snatch it.

Putting on his best innocent expression, Danny turned to face the tiny mouse, who stood looking up at him with that disarming stare. Danny found his mouth running dry. The mouse knew. He definitely knew. There was no point even trying his normal shtick. He came to a snap decision, and threw up his hands.

"Woah, okay. You got me," Danny said, with forced sincerity, "You're good, kid, you really are. I know people who would pay good money for a lookout with your skills. You run a few jobs with them, you could get all the... cheese you want."

The mouse said nothing. Danny's hand slowly fell to his pocket, and drew out the money.

"Fancy a taste? What say we split this, eh? You don't mention anything to your step-mum... your... to Liz, and I'll not tell her where you got that latest Action Mouse toy from, how about that?"

Danny held out just less than half of the notes and waved it under the mouse's nose. The kid didn't even blink. Just stared that utterly blank stare. Danny nodded, and inwardly sighed. Well, it was worth a try.

"Fine. Good. You're loyal, I can see that, that's really good. I was just testing you, really. You passed. Well done. I'll put it back now, see?" The money was visibly stashed back into the envelope, minus the note or two that had never left Danny's pocket. For a moment, the mouse continued to stare, but a sudden sound made them both turn to the door. Or rather, it was a certain lack of sound: the television was no longer mumbling to itself from the other room. Danny just had time to step away from the spice rack and jam his duster into the bookshelf when the door opened and Miss Arger stepped in, once again making the kitchen seem almost cramped. She looked around, and Danny met her glance and managed a relatively convincing smile.

"How are we doing in here, then, dinner?"

"It's 'Danny'," Danny corrected again, "and fine thanks, Liz. We're both great."

She turned to the mouse, who had walked up to her.

"Is that right, Breakfast?" she asked. The mouse tugged her sleeve, and she leant down until the little boy could reach up and whisper in her ear. Danny tried to mask his panic, and told himself the whisper could be about something completely different. And if not, the kitchen window was just to his left - he could probably dive through it in time if Miss Arger charged him.

He watched her face, though, and it didn't even flicker. No shock, no anger, no outrage. His heart began to return to normal speed, as he settled on the conclusion that she couldn't just have been told her visitor had tried to rob her. When the mouse was finished with whatever he had been saying, Miss Arger nodded with a slight smile, and then gestured to the corner of the room. Then, the mouse walked up to Danny and tugged on his sleeve. Danny grinned down meekly, hoping against hope that he hadn't just been turned in. His smile fell when the young kid said, "You're an idiot."

The mouse promptly turned on his heel and marched to the corner of the room, sat down facing it and hugged his tail. Danny looked over to Miss Arger to see what she made of all this, and what he saw made his jaw fall open.

The Rottweiler woman was standing in clear view of him, casually unbuckling her jeans.

Breakfast was right! He was an idiot! How could he not have seen this coming? That "You won't be here long" quip that the mouse had made earlier. The way Miss Arger toyed with his name in her mouth. Those hungry looks she'd been giving him ever since he arrived. It was obvious. Of course she wanted to fuck him.

As if on cue, Miss Arger's jeans dropped heavily to the floor, and revealed that, underneath them, she was absolutely naked. Danny felt himself go hard immediately. She stood with her legs slightly apart, not trying to hide a thing, and now she was looking directly at him. There was a moment of silence.

"Take off the clothes," said Miss Arger, tonelessly.

Oh god, Danny thought suddenly. The way she's looking at me; that confidence, that expectation. She's one of those Fem Doms! He started to regret skipping those particular videos whenever he was searching for porn, because he realised now he had no idea what dominant women did with their partners. He knew how he was supposed to act as a dominant_man_, but being submissive was something he'd never thought to prepare for. It wasn't something his friends had ever mentioned when they were boasting about their conquests. It wasn't something he'd ever mentioned when he'd been making up his own. Looking at Miss Arger now, he didn't imagine he'd mind whatever her plan was, but it was hard not to be a little nervous. She was so much bigger than him...

A cough interrupted his thoughts.

"Either you can take them off," the Rottweiler said, "or I will."

While a small part of Danny's brain was tempted to push his luck, the far greater part decided that small cats should not piss off giant Rottweilers. He hastily pulled his shirt over his head and cast it aside, and then fumbled with his buttons for a moment before finally getting them undone and dropping his jeans. His boxers were peeled off just after, and he straightened up with an anxious smile.

Miss Arger rolled her eyes.

"The shoes too," she sighed.

Danny looked down, and saw that his jeans were caught in a bundle at his feet, unable to go past the trainers he was still wearing. Eager to get started, he desperately ripped them from his feet and stepped out of his heap of clothes, standing nervously and now fully naked in front of the towering Rottweiler. He looked her up and down.

"Right," he said, "So... if I'm honest... I've... I've never actually done... _this_before. How do we... I mean... do I just... stick it in?"

Miss Arger looked down to his firm erection, and grinned a toothy, canine grin. Then she laughed. She laughed until her belly shook and tears formed in the corners of her eyes. Danny felt himself tense up. He didn't know how to respond, so he just waited for her to finish.

When she finally did, she pointed dismissively.

"You want to stick that in me? I doubt I'd notice if you did. You're even smaller than Breakfast, and he's nine."

Danny felt himself blush hotly with embarrassment, and he unintentionally closed his legs and lowered his hands. He had no idea what to say. This wasn't what he was expecting at all.

"No, I'll tell you what we do," said Miss Arger, shaking her head and approaching him. She leant down, so that the two were eye-to-eye, "You beg for mercy while I swallow you alive and digest you."

Danny's mouth fell slack and his eyes widened in horror as the words sunk in. His mind raced for some sensible reaction or response, but all he managed to do as her mouth opened and revealed a pulsating, dripping maw was scream, "No, please!"

By the time those words left his mouth, he was already inside hers. Her sheet-like tongue pressed firmly against his upper body, coating him head to navel in saliva, while his face was being squashed against the tugging entrance to the Rottweiler's throat. His hands, which had been covering his now flaccid privates, were no use as they flailed helplessly against her nose, and he felt her straighten up, lifting his whole body and leaving his legs dangling down in mid-air.

As he gasped for breath between muffled screams for help, feeling his whole body start to get drenched, Danny thought desperately for a solution. This couldn't be the end! This couldn't be legal! There was no way she could get away with doing this to him. Unless... unless no one ever found out. So he had to let someone know, as soon as he could! It didn't matter if she swallowed him, he could still get attention and they'd... whatever, they'd cut him out or something. He could call his parents; they'd send help for sure! He just had to reach the phone in his...

In his jean pocket. Lying in a heap at Miss Arger's feet.

Suddenly, a horrific pain lanced from Danny's pelvis through his spine. An unexpected pressure in the form of Miss Arger's meaty paw had slammed into his crotch and was pressing him further and further into her throat, grinding his privates between her hand and his own body. His jaw flew open to let out a shriek, but as it did his mouth filled with thick, dog saliva, and he could only let out a pathetic gurgle.

Somehow, above the jolts of pain, his mind still had time to register the disgusting taste of the warm liquid in his mouth, and the overpowering smell of the dog breath surrounding him. It only got stronger as the throat opened up and he started to slide into a tight tube descending into hot darkness below. He could feel the dog's strong muscles squeezing him tight as he fell further into her mouth, with only his shins now remaining outside of her. He could feel the firm pull of her gullet all over him now, and he knew he wasn't getting out of this alive.

-

In the corner, Breakfast chewed on his bottom lip and wrung his tail in both hands. He knew he wasn't supposed to watch Miss Arger while she was feeding, but sat with it happening just behind him, hearing the groans and the moans and the muffled pleading...

He took a deep breath, and then peered over his shoulder to watch the cat go down. What he saw was absolutely mesmerising. More of the cat had gone in than Breakfast would have expected, and now just the legs and tail stuck out of Miss Arger's enormous maw. The legs were bucking wildly, and Miss Arger was using a heavy paw to push her meal further into her gullet. Thick droplets of saliva rained to the floor as she slobbered all over her writhing snack, most of it landing among the cat's clothes. Despite it all, Breakfast found himself thinking: That saves me a job, at least.

She was nearly finished now, letting go of his pelvis and moving to give his feet a gentle prod. Breakfast watched as they disappeared far quicker than the rest of the cat, picking up speed as he fell down into her stomach. Slight, muffled protests could still be heard as Miss Arger happily closed her lips on the cat's toes and gulped them in, before slurping down the rest of the wiggling tail like it was spaghetti. When that was done, she smiled and sighed to herself, patting her now somewhat larger and still-moving belly.

Then she shot a glance over at Breakfast. He let out a small "Eep!" and turned quickly to face the wall again. He heard a deep chuckle behind him.

"You know you're not supposed to watch," Miss Arger said, moaning slightly as she sat on the floor and began to pleasure herself. "Just for that you can come and rub my feet while I finish this one off."

Breakfast's shoulders slumped. He hated having to rub Miss Arger's feet - they were so massive that they took him an age to do. But he knew he shouldn't complain. He had just watched what might happen if he did. So he stood up and made his way over, not even acknowledging the increasingly rapid hand motions as she caressed both herself and her wiggling, whimpering meal.

As his small fingers began to work their way along her toes, Miss Arger caught his eye, and she flashed a canine grin.

"Oh, stop looking so scared, Breakfast," she panted, "you aren't going in there for another few years yet."