FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

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"Thank you ma'am, haffa good night," The employee behind the cash register could not look less interested in what she is doing. Her voice, marked by an accent Zoey can't quite place, churns out her English in the mechanical tone of someone who relies on the language for their work only and even then uses it as little as possible. She hands Zoey her change lazily and offers a half-hearted smile.

"Yeah," Zoey says, snatching her bag and bills "Have a good night." The employee shifts her attention to the next customer before the first word leaves the girl's mouth. Having been deleted from this woman's existence Zoey sidles awkwardly aside before making her way out of the store and into the mall proper.

The mall is a huge, sprawling, two-floor deal and tonight it is surprisingly devoid of customers. Zoey doesn't truly have a reason to be here herself. The small, battery-powered fan in her bag, an item she has been meaning to purchase for weeks, could have been purchased at just about any convenience store closer to her home than the Saint Oaks Mall. Glancing at her phone Zoey finds that the hour is a bit late and reasons that perhaps the mall will be closing sometime soon. This realization doesn't faze her. She pauses a moment to recall the location of the food court. The mall is gigantic and a wrong turn would result in a good deal of unnecessary walking for the tired girl. When she is sure that she is headed in the right direction Zoey wanders toward the cafeteria with a deep, gnawing appetite for a smoothie.

Zoey has had an awful day. It has been the sort of day where everything that can possibly go wrong does, and does so with shocking suddenness. Zoey slept through her alarm, a feat she marveled over all morning, and found that the day would be overcast and gloomy. Dreary weather wouldn't normally effect Zoey. She is a peppy type who, while not being terribly athletic, enjoys a jog or bike ride after work. But this wouldn't be in the cards. And so it went that every task Zoey attempted either failed or resulted in a merely satisfactory conclusion. Work was a terrible slog. The girl was happy when she was only fifteen minutes late to her one-on-one meeting with her supervisor. She narrowly missed the first train home and had to wait an extra half hour due to a car accident further along the track. And when she finally managed to board a subway car bound for home she found herself squeezed between a dour, musclebound brute and a homeless lady who muttered to herself for the entire ride. After such a miserable day one could be forgiven for a bout of frustration, but Zoey isn't the type for this. Every unfortunate turn that the day threw her way forced her further into a familiar kind of depression.

Zoey is in no hurry to reach the food court. She dodges a careless couple who were too interested in one another to notice they were walking straight into a person. Zoey had come to the mall, despite the trip being inconvenient, because of her dysphoria. More than some people perhaps Zoey is not content with her life. The discontent nags her occasionally on the best days, but after days like today it weighs her down like a boulder. She is happy with her job. She loves her friends and family and sees them often. As far as she can discern consciously she is perfectly happy with her life. Yet below her mind's surface she yearns for something more, something different. Zoey rounds a corner and finds the neon glow of fast food at the corridor's end. Zoey had hoped that the bustle of the mall might distract her from her existential despair, but the empty state of the mall is somehow worsening it. Standing dwarved by the huge architecture and awash in the indifference of unbridled commercialism Zoey feels more out of place than ever. She would kill for the chance to be a specific someone else.

Coming upon a large group of loudly chatting girls Zoey steps aside. As they had interrupted her brooding she is self-conscious and awkward in their passing. The girls are younger than Zoey, highschool juniors maybe, and they babble inanely. A pair of them shoot Zoey a grimace before continuing on their way. She resumes her own trek, trying to focus on her impending smoothie, when she overhears the girls mumbling and then erupting into laughter. The chuckling which can probably be chalked up to the lackadaisy of adolescence reaches Zoey as a mockery in her paranoia. They were laughing at her, she is sure of it. Fuming and flushing all at once the girl slows her pace as her thoughts quickly find themselves scrambled. She can't confront the girls; even she can see how paranoid her reaction is, not that she can do anything about it. Thoughts of despair appear only to drift away at once. Zoey holds onto a specific image as though it were a lighthouse's beacon guiding her to the shores of sanity. Her breathing slows and she finds a new confidence in its life-affirming glow. 'Man, I just wish I could be her.' Zoey thinks. Her mind wanders comfortably now midst images of well-trodden fantasies as she nears the food court. Unsteady confidence shows in her stride and a shaky smile graces her lips.

"Who could blame you?" Zoey hears these words above all the echoing sounds of the mall and even above her own thoughts. The sounds of the voice, velvety and deep, reach Zoey's brain without the help of her ears. She vaguely 'senses' the words as much as she 'hears' them. Regardless she spins around madly in search of the speaker. The only people nearby are a doughy, middle-aged joe and a woman completely absorbed by her smart-phone. These can't be the speakers and even if they are they certainly can't be capable to telepathic communication. Zoey relaxes a bit when she comes upon a perfectly acceptable explanation for the phantom comment. She is too high strung surely. After a draining day her nerves are acting up in a bad way. The girls rubs her temples and lets out a sigh.

"Oof. Know what, forget the smoothie. I'm going home." She mumbles. She turns on her heel and immediately a soft ringing accompanies the voice's return.

"You can hear me..." It says in a knowing tone. This time when it speaks Zoey recognizes its source. Trusting a sixth-sense that the girls has never known of before Zoey's gaze wanders across the walkway to the closed corridor that leads to the restrooms. The speaker is casting his voice from behind those doors. A chill runs down Zoey's neck and results in a shudder. In spite of her understandable trepidation she shuffles groggily toward the doors. "I'd be happy to make that dream come true for you." The voice doesn't seem threatening, but of course Zoey shouldn't be hearing it at all. The impossibility of the thing combined with the temptations it promises urge Zoey toward the doors and the unknown entity that lies beyond. Had it heard her unspoken words?

Zoey's chills grow stronger as she reaches the doors and places a palm upon one. Presently she has half a mind to turn around, go home, and chalk the occurrence up as a small mental breakdown. But she knows she can't do that. The allure of the unknown has its claws in her. Shrugging her anxieties aside Zoey presses the door open. Her focused gaze doesn't pick up the voice's owner right away. The corridor is long and plain. It has two openings on its right side, the closest leads to the ladies room and the farther one to the men's room. As the girl steps inside and allows the door to slam shut the sounds of the mall outside disappear at once. They aren't muffled by the door, they are simply not there any longer though she is thankful for the company of a hum from within the walls. At this point Zoey notices that while the hallway is well lit by ceiling fixtures the end of the hallway is abnormally dark. It is as though someone has draped a black shroud from floor to ceiling. The sight of it causes the girl to wince as it clashes with the otherwise normal look of the locale. It drops off into a nothingness so dense that Zoey can't perceive the end of the hall if there is one. Zoey's holds up manfully in the face of these happenings. In fact she peers into the blackness as she inches toward it and finds that there is a silhouette within.

"Come on now. You of all people should appreciate my appearance." The voice says, this time aloud. Its bass sound echoes off the walls and ceiling and Zoey notices off-handedly that there is no one else in the long corridor at all and there are no sounds coming from the bathrooms.

Feeling a sudden spike of adrenaline Zoey stands tall and strides toward the corridor's ebon end. To her surprise the paling falls away by degrees as she approaches. The silhouette becomes clearer as well until it is revealed and is properly lit by the lights above. The darkness faded, he sits expectantly.

"But-- haha. You-you're a-"

"Will it help to hear it aloud?" He says, turning to face the girl, "An 'anthropomorphic animal.' Yes, you love those."

"No way." Zoey says, mouth agape.

The creature that had telepathically summoned her is indeed an anthropomorphic dog. He sits gingerly atop a wooden counter which protrudes from the wall, one knee within enmeshed fingers. He is a bull terrier and true to the breed he is small in stature and of a sturdy build. The character has an air of complete disdain about him that reminds Zoey of the proudly affluent. After all he must be powerful in a literal sense. His lip is pulled back in a questionably genuine smirk and his eyes don't offer any hints as to his mood or intent. The eyes which Zoey finds herself lingering upon, are completely black. They are sharp, perceptive eyes as well. Nothing seems to escape their gaze, not even the surrounding light.

"Oh, am I wrong?" He says.

"N-no. I mean this can't be possible... who--what are you?" Zoey says. In her curiosity she finds herself inching toward the dog. Fear and excitement mingle within her. There is no point in denying the dog's comment. He knows the whole truth somehow. Zoey is a fan of anthropomorphic animals. A 'furry'. As one of these types she never held onto the notion of actually coming face-to-face with the objects of her appreciation. The creatures exist in the realm of fiction. Or at least they did.

"My name is Grant." He says suddenly. "I'm a dog."

"Heh. I can uh, I can see that, but what -are- yo--"

"And so are you."

"Wh-what?" Zoey stammers. Grant hops from his place on the counter. He approaches the girl causing her heart to race. Her first instinct is to run. Nothing about Grant's introduction was comforting in the least and when she puts her excitement aside Zoey has to admit that he is deeply unsettling. His digitigrade stride, punctuated by the clacking of claws, is confident so as to be intimidating. Only Zoey's deep-seated interest in his anthropomorphic nature forces her to stay. When Grant is standing before her he sheds a bit of his edge and stands casually. Zoey stifles a chuckle at the fact that she and him are nearly the same height. The dog's tail wags slowly.

"Go ahead and feel. I know you want to." Grant says with something like a smile. He offers his well-toned shoulder. Zoey's cheeks flush. She does want to feel, and has since the first instant he became visible to her. Short of breath and more excited than she can remember ever being Zoey reaches a trembling hand and lays it on Grant's arm. He is real, it appears. His short, bristly fur is perfectly maintained and the firm contours of muscle are enticing. The girl rubs the length of the dog's arm before a sudden bout of embarrassment causes her to begrudgingly release it. Zoey remains silent while carefully taking in the dog's presence.

"This is amazing." Zoey says, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "I can't believe you're ... real. Oh my god. Well what are you doing here? What can I do for you?" The girl's fear has mostly left her and the resulting void is being filled with wide-eyed adoration for the first and possibly only living object of her long-standing fandom.

"Well it's not about what I want." Grant says, walking slowly around Zoey. "I am quite powerful, if I can say so myself. It is my pleasure to travel the world and grant wishes. It really, really is. Yours in particular. I was like you once. I know that desire, that need, to step into your ideal, animal self."

Zoey puzzles over the implications of this. "You did?"

"Mhmm." The dog's black eyes are entirely vacant. "I heard you just now. You wish you could be Zephyr don't you?" Zoey had come to expect the question but she still jumps at the mention of her fursona's name.

"You..." Zoey says lowly, conspiratorially "You could do that?"

"Easily in fact. And it would be ... my pleasure. She's a husky right? Dog is a great choice of species. A classic."

Zoey's mind races. She had often wondered, as many furries have, what she would do if given the option to become her fursona. It had always seemed like an impossibly loaded decision. Accepting it would mean becoming the person's most ideal version of themselves of course but with the negative baggage of disrupting family and social ties. To say nothing of the impact on the world at large of an impossible creature suddenly existing. It was a fun thought experiment, but it is now reality. And yet, even as Zoey contemplates the effects of this decision she is already reaching a conclusion. In her unconscious the matter is already decided and it seems the only thing to do now is say the words aloud.

"What do you think?" Grant says.

"I do." Zoey says, biting her lip to hold back the excitement. "I do wish I could be Zephyr."

Standing before her Grant raises his hand and a pointed claw. He points directly at Zoey's heart and draws his hand closer before pausing.

"Are you sure?" The dog's eyes are especially creepy up close. Swirls of white seem to dance in his blackness.

"Yeah. Let's do -yeeeee!" Zoey shrieks as Grant's claw contacts her chest. The touch sends something like a strong static shock throughout her entire body. Zoey backpedals a few feet in surprise as Grant, satisfied by the development, studies Zoey with the look of a master appraising the his craft.

The transformation begins all at once yet proceeds at a calm rate. It is not as shocking an experience as Zoey guessed it would be and there is no pain. Zoey stumbles as her feet and legs shift like living clay into the shape of the husky girl's. Unlike Grant Zephyr stands plantigrade so Zoey doesn't feel much of a difference when looking down at the creamy, beige furred legs aside from the substitution of claws for toenails. Though as the girl hops around in her understandable wonderment she notices that her new legs are quite limber. Zoey's clothes are effected by Grant's magic. Her shoes, evidently unnecessary, vanish, but when her tail comes in with a -floof- Zoeys short's accommodate it with a new tail-hole. Her thighs gain some attractive thickness and this effect is enhanced by a new sveltness of the hips. As the girl's shorts magically stretch to fit the girls runs her hand through the fur for the first time and gasps. The fur is thick and bushy, fitting for a husky. Not just any dog, but herself. Her own fur. Zoey grins wildly at Grant who is still watching her attentively. She wonders if he is actively controlling the process.

Zoey is thankful that the transformation is painless as it allows her to relish the experience. Zoey's shirt lifts a bit, baring her midriff and its relatively short fur. Her belly is a softer cream color. It is exactly the hue she had always imagined for Zephyr. Zoey's breasts which had been moderate in size swell a bit to match her hips and lend her a striking figure. She can't stop stroking her fur. She giggles incessantly as her shoulders and arms shift. Her arms, like her legs, attain a new nimbleness with musculature to match. Then her hands morph subtly with her fingernails becoming her new neat and trim claws.

"This is incredible!" Zoey says. She then yelps in excitement when she sees that her tail is wagging by its own accord. The spreading fur reaches her neck and slightly increases her height. The transformation of her skull is the only part of the process that Zoey would describe as uncomfortable. Her jaw extends and adjusts with sounds heard more internally than externally. Though when Zoey's nose sweeps forward and darkens into a big, scent-sensitive button her giddiness returns.

"Hngg? Blaahhh." Zoey's tongue lolls out of her now long muzzle and dangles. Her teeth attain their proper canine shapes. Zoey can vaguely tell when her eyes change color and she then reaches up with eagerness and feels the exact moment when her ears -fwipp- into their canine forms Tall, delicate, and fuzzy. Zoey rubs them in her fingers as she quickly learns how attuned and strong her hearing will be. There is an odd humming coming from the hallways exterior. Absently Zoey directs her ears toward Grant and quirks her head when she finds that he doesn't seem to have a heartbeat and that if he is breathing he is doing so almost silently.

"And there you go. What do you think?"

"Ha, haha! Oh my god this is so amazing." Zoey says. Talking is a bit strange but she takes to it quickly. Her new tongue knows its way around the mouth and enunciates perfectly. "It's really her. I'm her!"

"You sure are." Grant says, his eyes lingering on her curves a moment longer than she would have liked. But her gushing gratitude allow her to tune out the indiscretion. "How much can you hear?"

"Everything! I can hear, like," Zoey scans the hall by expertly swiveling her ears as if she had possessed them for her whole life. "The faucet in the girls room. The thiiiird sink has a drip I think."

"Yep! Third sink." Grant says, turning from her to return to the counter.

"And I can smell... God. I spilled salsa on these shorts yesterday and rinsed it out, but I can smell it." Zoey, or Zephyr as she is dying to call herself, can barely restrain her enthusiasm. She reaches to the bull terrier. "Grant thank you so much. This is real. I'm.. I'm Zephyr and I just, I really can't thank you enough." She looks herself up and down, nearly in tears.

"Well don't thank me yet." Grant says, turning to her with a devilish smirk. "There's so much more to being Zephyr than just having the looks."

"Oh. Really?" Zephyr can't imagine what he is insinuating. He has already made her most impossible dream come true. What more could there be to give?

"Mhmm. But how would you like to relocate to someplace more comfortable? Now that you've got a dog nose you've probably noticed that this awful hallway reekslike death." Zephyr takes some experimental sniffs.

"Ooooh, that is rank. Yeah lets get out of here." She clamps a hand over her nose to block the smell. With boundless energy she turns to leave. "Wait. Wai-wai-wait. How do I get out of here like this? Darn, I'm going to have to deal with this already?"

"No worries." Grant says. He stomps the floor with his left paw which causes his shadow to come to life. It grows in a blob which reaches the wall and spreads to become something of a portal. Out of the inkiness an image soon congeals, that of Zoey's, Zephyr's, room. The bull terrier bows, gesturing Zephyr inside.

"Oh no way."

"Are you really surprised? After what you just went through?" Grant laughs.

"Yeah I guess you're right." Zephyr bounces up to the portal. "So I just walk through?"

"You just walk through."

Zephyr reaches out. At the plane where her hand ought to hit the solid wall it simply phases through. The temperature is changed on its other side. Zephyr forgot to turn off her air conditioner again. She looks questioningly at Grant, but finds he has vanished. Facing the portal again she spots him sitting on the edge of her bed beckoning with a finger.

The husky holds her breath, closes her eyes, and steps gingerly through the wall and into her bedroom. The transition was as uneventful as walking through an open door. Zephyr's cheeks redden a bit at her apprehensiveness. She finds herself now in an awkward silence with Grant within her room as she had left it a few hours earlier. Her nose is flooded with familiar scents that hit her in entirely new ways. She can smell the blueberries that had long ago skittered from her desk to parts unknown as well as the tasty smell of her roommate's dinner which is mid-preparation two rooms away. The dog looks forward to scouring her home for other lost items. Grant watches her exploration patiently.

"Oh sorry. This is really exciting. What did you want to show me?" Zephyr says.

"I completely understand. Well. I thought you might want to celebrate and put those new dog chompers to use." Grant says. He reaches behind his back and produces a plate carrying a slice of cake. It is a creamy, moist piece of strawberry heaven that wouldn't be out of place in any upscale restaurant. Zephyr could never justify spending the requisite $15-20 on a single slice of cake, but that is not to say she wouldn't have loved to try them. Grant hands her the plate and Zephyr ogles its contents. The cake is beautiful really. She almost doesn't want to eat it, but the scent of it is working its spell on her. "Here's to a new, exciting life." Grant adds.

"Y-yeah! Thank you, this looks incredible." Zephyr immediately slices into the cake with the included fork and hungrily gobbles it. As expected the taste is incredible. A sweet strawberry frosting enhances the white cake which has a faint taste of anise. As unexpected Zephyr fumbles with her mouth awkwardly before getting a hang of chewing with a muzzle. When settled she plops into her desk chair and goes to work on the cake.

"No cake for you?" She asks Grant who is sitting and watching her expectantly.

"No. No, I'm ... watching my figure."

"Well it's amazing. -Mumf- Thanks again."

"Like I said it is truly my pleasure." Grant leans back on Zephyr's bed and licks his chops.

The husky is finished with the cake in minutes. The perfect sweetness lingers in her mouth. She licks her own chops while sitting back and exhaling loudly.

"That was -oof- So good." Zephyr says, suddenly feeling a bit gassy and bloated. Her face contorts in spite of herself.

"What's wrong?" Grant asks without a trace of real concern or surprise.

"Unh. I don't know I just -mmf- feel really bloated all of a sudden. I hope I wasn't -unng- allergic to anything in that cake." Zephyr stands now and doubles over by her dresser drawer. The swelling isn't painful, but it is unruly. Suddenly, and it takes a moment for Zephyr to notice this, her entire body begins to gain weight. Her belly protrudes steadily while her legs and rump fill out straining her pants.

"Ahh, Grant what's happening to me?! This isn't right!" Zephyr says, cheeks reddening beneath her fur.

"It's like I said. If you want to be Zephyr you're going to have to enjoy the full experience." He says, standing.

"What do you mean -oomf- 'full experience'?" Zephyr is fattening at an alarming rate now. Her cheeks feel jowly and fat. She grips her gut in her increasingly sausage-like fingers wishing she could slow or reverse the growth.

"Well think about Zephyr. As your fursona and the conduit to your kinky fantasy life she is put through countless unreal situations. For instance you have frequently imagined yourself, as Zephyr, gaining weight." Grant approaches the husky. Slowed as she is by the growing process it is all she can do to stumble away from Grant with booming steps and trembling thighs.

"Hey wait, get away from me." Zephyr says. She swats at Grant's hand as he gently grabs one of her new fat rolls.

"Just like this. You have Zephyr's looks. Now I'm going to make sure you enjoy every situation that you have 'put her through.'"

"What?!" Zephyr groans. She is quite round now. Her thick fur makes her newfound flab look even more pronounced. Her belly extends almost two feet from her at its farthest point. Her breasts sit atop its bulk. Zephyr can carry her great weight, but barely. Her legs are flabby and jiggle with each heavy step. Reaching her thick arms down Zephyr finds she can barely touch her belly button, much less her legs. She stands huffing and puffing as Grant playfully rubs her belly. The worst result of this situation is that the husky's clothes are all but shredded. She is almost thankful for her girth as it hides her groin quite well, but her fuzzy breasts have shaken free of the tatters of her shirt.

"See, just like Zephyr. Is it as amazing as you imagined?" Grant says. The gleeful look in his black eyes informs Zephyr that this had been his plan all along. The metaphysical shyster. He had used the one thing she could never refuse to lure her into a dirty deal. 'Shit!' she curses her ignorance.

"-Humf- No. This is ridiculous and embarrassing. Change me back. Now, please." She says. She attempts to cross her arms, finds that they no longer reach, and allows them to flop to her sides with a frown.

"Turn you back? But there's so much more to do." Zephyr feels a sudden urge to slap the dog, but is certain this would be ill advised. She simply pouts and tries to hide her shame. "For instance." Grant bends down beneath Zephyr's gut and out of sight.

"Ahhh! What are you doing?! Grant!" The husky tries to collect enough of her flab in her arms to be able to see the floor around her. Before she can manage the task she feels Grants hands going to work. He is securing it to her waist. He works it between her thick legs and around her midsection. When Zephyr realizes what is being placed on her she flushes visibly.

"Oh no. No no no you are not putting me in a diaper." Zephyr says this exactly as Grant finishes taping the straps in place. The husky can see the tip of it now. A rim of crinkly white fabric encircling her huge gut and cushioning her rump. The thing, magically summoned by Grant of course, fits her perfectly and is far thicker than the average diaper.

"Yes I did! And you look adorable." Grant says, standing again. He has a pink garment in his hand. He approaches Zephyr and in spite of her size and thrashing manages to stuff Zephyr into a prissy pink t-shirt. The letters stretched hilariously across her broad chest read 'Diaper Princess.' As soon as Grant steps aside to admire his handiwork Zephyr grips the diaper and the shirt and attempts to rip them away. Both remain in place even when she applies her full strength.

"Uggh, stupid thing." Bending forward a great deal Zephyr grips the rim of the diaper and carefully stabs at it with her sharp claws. It is simply impervious and immovable. Exasperated by the small amount of struggling she'd been doing Zephyr leans on the bureau wheezing. Grant approaches and leans on Zephyr's side. He hugs as much of her flab as he can and blows a raspberry. The husky notes with disgust, that he is fully erect within his pants and is grinding a bit on her diaper.

"Getoffame!" Zephyr swings at him with her meaty hands and while he dodges her he does step back with a smirk.

"Aww. The princess is a little cranky today."

"You're darn right I'm cranky. Change me back!" She repeats herself. When Grant shakes his head no and wanders over to her standing mirror she tries another tack. "You know, I never really wanted to do all of that stuff." She then adds internally '-at once." She would never give Grant the satisfaction of knowing she is enjoying the kinky treatment.

"At once?" Grant says, leering his lifeless eyes at her. "Come on girl, you can't fool me. I've known every shade of person and I am especially familiar with covert perverts like yourself who just can't admit when I'm right no matter how much I change them or bend them over. It's OK, you know. You can admit that you are the true Diaper Princess. I have many more treats for you, but you could at least be honest with yourself in enjoying them."

"No." Zephyr says. She can't say anything more without incriminating herself. Grant would be correct under more ideal circumstances. Zephyr would love to experience this treatment with someone she trusts, but Grant is not that person and could never possibly be that person. He is a liar and is plainly interested in his own pleasure first and foremost. Whatever else the powerful dog could be up to she has no idea and she does not want to know. His gaze feels oppressive and toxic and she can do nothing to avoid it.

"Come on over here princess. I want you to see how pretty you are." Grant taps on the mirror.

"Ugggh." She knows there is no point in resisting as the dog with have his way whether she submits willingly or not.

Zephyr walks for the first time with her super-fattened body and in her over-sized diaper. Her gait is completely changed now. First of all she now waddles more than walks and in doing so her whole frame shudders. Her belly is so huge that it nearly touches the floor. Secondly her waddling causes her diaper to crinkle obnoxiously and embarassingly with every step. The diaper which has filled her groin with plentiful padding, forces the dog to toddle with her toes pointed inward slightly. Zephyr would love nothing more than to disappear. She stomps grumpily up to the mirror and avoids eye contact with both Grant and her reflection. A presence is suddenly felt at her back. Grant hands reach up and hold her head. He forces her face toward the mirror where mortification causes it to linger. Grant's hands wander to her thick neck and her curvy butt.

"Oh geez. I'm even fatter than I thought." Zephyr pads at her jowly cheeks and fluffy breasts and scowls at Grant's roving hands.

"Grant will you please change me back? I don't want thith-mmph. Mmph!" As Zephyr is speaking he manages to grip her muzzle and holds it tightly shut in his fist. With shocking speed he produces a leather muzzle and fastens it around the husky's mouth with his free hand. He yanks it tightly and fastens it around her head.

"Mmph! Mm-mm!" Zephyr's mouth is soundly shut and she can barely reach her arms to her neck to address her bondage. Even if she could though Grant has moved on. He holds some leather garments and after he grabs one of Zephyr's arms she learns that these are pet play paws. The rubbery things are designed to help put the submissive party into their role. Despite her splaying her fingers and tugging her arms Grant manages to ball up the husky's hands and get them securely fastened into the play paws. Continually groaning her disapproval Zephyr examines them. They are of fine quality and of a soft, puppylike design. The pads are goofy and thick. Knowing that her hands are useless she works an arm to the back of the muzzle and fumbles with the straps ineffectually. And because both of her hands are now restrained she can't to anything about either of the mitts. She baps Grant as he deftly reaches around her neck to fasten a collar with an attached leash.

"Ahh, much better. Pets should be seen and not heard, don't you think?" Grant says. He stands apart from Zephyr now with her collar in hand. A toothy grin haunts his face.

"Hrrmph." Zephyr groans. She does her best to look as miserable as possible and finds it is an easy task. Grant is unfazed, naturally. She scratches at her diaper with the rubber paws.

"My thoughts exactly." Grant circles Zephyr slowly. "Look at you. All fattened up. You've got a nice, super poofy diaper there and you're ready for some puppy play. Luckily you have subjected to your husky lady to many, many more scenarios." The bull terrier jabs at the bits as he mentions them. "But those will have to be fulfilled elsewhere so you're coming with me." Grant stomps the floor as he did before and summons a portal on Zephyr's wall. This one doesn't hint of it's destination however and remains an inky black. Zephyr wonders if their destination is simply a void and shudders at the thought. Grant walks casually toward the portal, leash in hand until it is pulled taut by the reluctant husky.

"Come on princess. You're the one who wished for this. One would think you'd be a sport and live out the full experience." The dog tugs on the collar gently until Zephyr is too annoyed to resist. She begrudgingly crinkles a few steps forward. Grant notices this with a start and becomes visibly aggravated.

"Uh uh, what do you think you're doing?" Grant says as if Zephyr knows the answer and should be able to respond. She shrugs. Pet puppies do not walk on two legs missy."

"Mmmmmph." Zephyr moans in protest. When she dares to look at Grant's eyes and the white fire behind them she is shocked into compliance. The process of falling to her knees is a tricky one. She lands with a thud on one knee before taking the other. She balances her great weight on her relatively stubby arms and on her knees. Her belly does drag a bit on the ground and she can move at the maximum of a snail's pace. But Grant is patient. He stands by looking down his nose at her and makes a show of his grip on the leash as if his mastery were in question.

"Good girl! Who's a good puppy wuppy?" Grant, bends to speak to Zephyr at eye level. She wishes she could spit at him, but settles for staring sabers.

"Come on. I have so many plans for you little lady." Grant walks on and patiently waits for his captive to follow. Her fat, crinkling butt waddles too much for her liking, but then this entire situation is simply awful. At the edge of the portal Grant stands by her side.

"After you princess." Grant says. She swallows. What is she crawling into? Will she be able to return to her life when Grant has had his satisfaction? Her train of thought is thrashed when Grant delivers her a firm, reverberating slap on the butt. Her diaper sloshes and her ass jiggles for seconds afterward.

"Mmmph?!" She moans.

"After you..." Grant glares at her now and she finds herself cowed. Crawling on her toy paws and knees she makes her way into the void. Grant soon follows.

"Good girl."