FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

(Meta note: all characters were my own invention, except Randall who belongs to my good friend Draugr, and is used with permission.)

Richie woke up that Sunday morning, feeling excited. Even before his memory fully remembered why, he knew he was half way through one of the best weekends he'd ever had.

All it took to fully remember was for him to sit up in bed: it was his house-guest. The best house-guest he'd ever had, because he could express a side of him that so rarely saw the light of day.

It was only hinted at to friends, and fully seen by strangers, and even then, only in online chat rooms. At least, until that game of cards.

After quickly getting his teeth and his long fur brushed with their respective items, the Border Collie threw the tank top he slept in into the laundry basket, and looked through his T-shirts.

He decided on the one with the aphorism he found fitting. He had worn to Damien's house when he arranged the house guest, and since then, had re-discovered its truth: "It's not really bondage / until you want out."

He pulled on a pair of blue jeans, and then hustled out of the bedroom, down the stairs, through the kitchen, to the hall with the basement door. After a short stairway down, as carpet gave way to bare concrete, he found his house guest in the same make-shift kennel he left him in.

To Richie's surprise, the wolf was not only awake, but standing up and holding onto the hastily constructed fencing. He looked very uncomfortable, though Richie couldn't tell why.

It probably wasn't because the wolf was naked or cuffed; he went to sleep that way, and seemed quite excited about it at first. By contrast, this anxiety was strong enough to keep the wolf from getting a morning hard-on at the sight of the dog who had made him come three times last night -- even if not all of them were intentional.

"Good morning," growled Richie with a lustful gaze up and down the wolf's thin frame.

"I've been waiting for you, sir," answered Randall with a bit of whine in his voice, "please let me out."

"And why should I do that?" asked Richie in a teasing voice.

"Because I need to go to the bathroom, sir."

"Why you silly pet," he growled sadistically, "you can go in your cage!"

"Y-y-you... made it too small, sir. I thought I would mess up my cot, and I knew you would be mad at me if I did that! Please, sir, let me out..."

"Alright, Randall, alright -- but we're going to do this my way," he emphasized.

Randall merely leaned closer to the chain-link mesh, as Richie opened the hinged "door", and grabbed the plastic leash hanging from the wolf's collar. Randall remained staring at the floor, head bent down, in a fairly submissive pose -- or at least, the best one he could manage as his legs shifted uncomfortably.

"I can see why Damien likes owning you," the collie growled. "You'll put up with anything, won't you Randall?"

The wolf did not reply, only remaining motionless. Richie assumed that Randall's tense look suggested he was trying not to make a mess. He really must have to go, thought the Collie. Which made it all the more opportune time to have some fun with the wolf. With the leash in hand, Richie unlocked the latch, and the gate swung open. Without a second thought, Randall bolted forward toward the stairs -- or he tried to, anyway. Richie -- being much heavier than the wolf -- pulled him short on his leash.

"Randall!" he snapped, as if talking to a dog. "Heel."

Randall slunk back behind Richie, and allowed himself to be led, still standing with his legs close together.

Richie then led him forward -- the wolf's steps shuffling behind him -- over to the opposite corner of the basement. This was where the Collie kept the washer and dryer. It was also the lowest point in the basement, where the slope of the floor went from too gradual to notice into a real slant into a sewer drain.

"Tell me, Randall," he asked casually, "do you have to pee?"

Randall looked up at Richie with just the pathetic look the dog wanted to see. "Really bad, sir," he whined, voice becoming higher pitched and more insistent as he bowed his legs and squirmed, sliding his foot-paws on top of one another occasionally.

"In that case," Richie said opening a cabinet hung above the washer, "I bought something just for you."

He pulled out a pack of adult diapers.

The moment Randall saw them, he gasped -- and then, as Richie took the package down, Randall looked up at Richie with a mixture of fear and incredulity.

It was a look Richie had never seen Randall give, even to his master Damien. It was that look which brought his dick from feeling teased to up raging-hard-on. Externally, however, Richie did nothing but give a fitting, wicked smile as he tore open the plastic.

"I only bought these, Randall, because of something your master said," he explained, maintaining his casual tone. "He said I could do anything that didn't cause permanent damage to you... but also advised that if you needed to go to the bathroom, to always let you."

Randall responded by gritting his teeth and folding his ears against his head, looking like he wanted to shrivel up and disappear."At first I thought nothing of it," continued Richie, enjoying every moment, "but as I was driving home with you yesterday morning, it struck me. Why would he warn me about that? He didn't say anything else about medical problems or phobias you might have. Nothing. And then, I realized... could Randall possibly have an accident at my house?"

Randall continued to squirm in silence, shifting his gaze from Richie down to the drain.

"So tell me, Randall," he growled, "do you have accidents in your master's house?"Oh sir," whimpered the wolf, voice rising as his face started to redden, "it's not true! Really, it's not true! I held it all night long! That should be proof enough!"

"Then why it is such an obvious button for me to push, hmmm?" he asked lyrically.

But he didn't wait for an answer, opting to slam down on the button instead. "Put this on," he directed, as he took the first diaper from the pack and unfolded it. "And I mean now. Or you'll find out what I consider to be REAL punishment."

"Please don't make me do this!" begged Randall, "Please! I'm... I'm... I'm not a puppy!"

Richie did nothing but put the diaper down on the dryer close to the wolf, fold his arms, and give Randall a look of ice. And when that didn't spur the wolf to action, he sighed with a hint of growl.

As the redness fully covered Randall's cheeks, the wolf finally took the action Richie wanted. Slowly and obediently, almost mechanically, Randall pulled the diaper apart, pulled it up around his naked waist, matched the sides, and taped it shut. He did it with such little effort and error that Richie suspected Randall had done this before."Comfy?" teased Richie.

Randall said nothing, but continued to give him the same look as his cheek flushed.

"Tell me, Randall: how old are you?"

"T-t-twenty six, sir," he whimpered.

"Do you remember how old you were when you last had an 'accident'?"

The wolf gave a long pause, reluctant to respond. Reluctant, Richie thought, to let the Collie keep enjoying this.

So, Richie responded by grabbing Randall's shoulder's, and pushing his to his knees over the drain.

"Um, ten! Ten, I... I think," he sighed, seeming to give in as his face remained in its blushed state.

"Well, Randall... it's time you felt like you were ten again. Ready?"Randall's response was to close his eyes and whine. So, Richie continued with his plan.

He walked around behind Randall, squatted down on his haunches and grabbed Randall's ribs. The wolf flinched and gasped in terror at first -- but that terror disappeared the moment that Richie started tickling him.

Randall cried out momentarily, but immediately descended into giggling laughter. He was clearly ill-at-ease, but his body had control. And he couldn't stop laughing. Just what Richie wanted to see, on the way to something more dramatic.

As Randall started to bend over, Richie kept going, starting to get more creative and aggressive. He started doing it all over Randall's torso, finding the spots that made the wolf almost lose his breath laughing, and spending extra time on those.

Sure enough, as he had hoped, Randall's childish giggling got a sudden note of sharpness, almost like a sob. It sent a surge of excitement through Richie, as he presumed he had finally found the last barrier of Randall's control, and broken it.Richie stopped, and let Randall go from laughing, to whining and sighing, as the diaper he was wearing started to slowly expand in response to liquid.

"Well, well, well," Richie growled, reaching into his boxers to paw himself in full view of Randall, "I guess Damien was right: you will make a mess if I'm not careful with you."

The look of shame that washed over the blushing wolf muzzle was priceless, as the diaper slowly continued to puff up.

"Now that you're feeling nice and worthless," growled the dog, "how about you do the only thing you are good at?"

Richie unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, letting them fall to his knees as he exposed his slowly dripping hard-on from his boxers.

Randall was a bit slower in opening his mouth and slurping up the dick before him than he had previously been, but if Richie wasn't mistaken, was still getting something out of this. He was a natural submissive, after all.

The blush on the wolf kept Richie's sadistic streak quite excited, bringing him quickly up to the edge as Randall's tongue and muzzle did their work. But he stayed at that edge, as he became distracted by a question: what was keeping Randall upset while doing one of his favorite activities?

Looking down a little more, Richie got a surge as he realized it: the liquid was escaping the diaper, staining the wolf's gray fur in streaks on its way to the drain. Randall really was making a mess.

When he looked back at the wolf, Randall closed his eyes in shame -- and seemed to start working hard. And it was this extra effort and humiliation than finally got Richie to gasp and climax with a long groan.

The orgasm washed through the dog, making him unconsciously grip Randall's head and pull it further onto his dick -- which the wolf may not have liked based on the noise he made, but it barely registered through the intense sensation that swept through his entire body. Richie paused a moment, keeping the muzzle around his cock, and letting his seed pump into the waiting muzzle. He waited until he felt Randall swallow once on twice before finally letting him go.

As Richie stepped back and returned to his senses, he found the contents of Randall's distressed bladder had saturated and overflowed the diaper, making a small puddle on the floor, working its way to the drain. Even in his afterglow, he knew there was something to be extracted from the wolf.

"Randall," he snarled with as much voice as he could through his heavy breathing, "what do you say for the mess you just made?"

"I'm... I'm sorry, sir," he whimpered.

"And 'I'm sorry sir' wouldn't have cut it," he warned, "if it hadn't come attached... to a very nice morning blowjob." He couldn't help but smile a bit.And it was this smile that Randall reacted to finally stop his sorrowful look. It was almost a hopeful gaze in his eyes.

"In fact, your master-for-today has decided to let you take off that diaper, and have a shower. If, that is, you won't make any more messes."

"I promise, sir!" excitedly answered Randall.

"Then, stand up," Richie commanded, taking Randall's leash, "and let's go. Be careful where you walk."

***

Shortly after lunch, Damien heard the car outside, and slowly got up from his chair to unlock the door. Sure enough, as the engine noise faded away, he opened the door, and found Randall.

But before Damien could get a word out of his muzzle, Randall suddenly grabbed him in a hug. But it was not a hug of being happy to see him; the silence and the pressing of his head against him were the clues that this was a hug of relief.

"Randall!" Damien exclaimed holding him close, and ushering him inside. "Are you okay?"

"Please master," begged the younger wolf, "don't make me spend the night with him again!"

"Oh Randall," sighed Damien, suspecting he knew what happened, "I'm so sorry! Did he hurt you?"

"N-no, master," Randall whined. "He was just... mean. Screw me, tease me, threaten me, then just... left me locked in the basement. Then after dinner more fucking, unless he felt like humiliating me..."

"I'm so sorry, Randall. I told him you would need a lot of attention, really I did. And I promise, I'll never lend you out to him again."

Suddenly, Damien got an idea. "In fact," he added, "I think I have a good way to make it up to you. Why don't you take a nice, long shower, and come back... ready to cuddle up?"

Randall didn't even answer as he slowly released Damien, mood seemingly lifted a bit, and headed out of the living room toward his bathroom at the far end of the house.

Damien, meanwhile, went into his bedroom, and after searching through a drawer of files, pulled out a small ledger he kept. He'd very seldom shown any of his pet business stuff to Randall, as the wolf seemed alternately bored and unnerved by too much discussion. But Damien hoped this would be something he could connect with.

Once the bound, black-leather notebook was in his hand, he left his bedroom, locked it, and returned to the couch and the book he was reading.

As he was about to finish the last chapter, he found Randall standing attentively at the far end of the couch, seeming significantly more relaxed and wearing his usual "uniform": tank top and shorts.

"Did you have a good shower?" Damien asked with a smirk.

"Yes, thank you, master," Randall sighed, contented smile suggesting that he did, indeed.

Randall spotted the book on the table, and his eyes locked onto it.

"Please open it," directed Damien.

Randall walked over, and nervously picked it up, as if it were made of glass. He gently unsnapped the leather strap, and opened it. After looking at only a page or two, he asked, "what is this, master?"

"That, Randall, is the Secret Book," he answered in a spooky voice with a knowing smile.

Randall's puzzlement grew. "The Secret Book?" he repeated.

"Yes," replied Damien. "Those are the fursons who had the chance to own a pet, and blew it. If they come into my store, they may rent if the pet is suitable, but may not buy."

Randall read another couple pages, puzzlement turning into surprise.

"Do you follow the format, Randall?" interrupted Damien.

"Uh... name, phone number, gender... what is this stuff at the bottom?"

"That's what they look like: species, height, build, eye color, and dominant fur pattern. It's a bit abbreviated, I know, but I hope you can get the idea. I had to start writing that stuff down after two cheetah brothers tried to trick one of my sales boys. You know how similar they all look."

"I see... but master, why are you showing me this?"

"Because, you have an entry to make," he offered warmly.

Randall looked up at him, but as it dawned on him what Damien was offering, he suddenly smiled. "Really, master? You'd let me do that?"

"Even though you're not in my store, you are one of my pets just the same. I care about what happens to you -- and I need all the help I can get to rid our little community of bad masters."

"And... you think what Mister Richie did qualifies him for this?" he asked nervously.

"Neglect is the easiest way to get on that list. Based on what you said, the sex was fine, but it was the rest of your stay that was the problem. Am I right?"

Randall nodded. "I specifically told him you needed a lot of affection. He may have thought I was being euphemistic. But even if he was, the fact that he never gave you so much as a single pet or cuddle, when you clearly needed it, tells me he's too dense or too cold-hearted to be a good master."

Randall seemed lost in thought for a moment -- or was it feeling? -- before he slowly took the pen from the book's spine that matched the black leather. With a click of the ball point, Randall started writing -- very slowly, Damien presumed, to ensure it was legible.

"So... I'll let you fill in his phone number... and how about '5 9, collie, brn, B/W GR pat chest'?"

Damien pictured Richie for a moment. "Oh yeah, he does have those little gray patches on his chest, doesn't he? Alright, that sounds good, Randall."

Randall finished writing, and as he put the pen back, suddenly looked like a weight had been lifted off his chest.

"Feel better?" asked Damien.

"Yes, master. I'm... glad you care about me so much."

"Of course, I do. C'mere," he invited, patting his lap.

Randall put down the book, and cuddled up as he usually did, placing his head on Damien's chest as the elder wolf stretched out on the couch to accommodate Randall's body.

"But I do have one question, Randall," asked Damien, "and I don't want you to feel any pressure about this at all. I'll never let him play owner with you again, if that's what you want... but you did enjoy it his visit at my house, didn't you?"

Randall closed his eyes, and suddenly got a smile on his muzzle. "Well, it's kinda hard to say, master," he replied, "because of everything else happening... but he does have quite a dick," he replied with a smile.

"Well then, I won't uninvite him from the poker games," Damien replied, affectionately petting the younger wolf's head. "Sound good?"

"Sounds very good, master," replied Randall with a yawn.

And before Damien could organize another thought to continue the conversation, Randall's fur and body heat started pulling him into a nap. Since they were both content, Randall soon followed him.

The End.