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It had been several weeks since their vacation at the cabin where everything changed. Marc and Oliver had settled back into their lives, albeit with some interesting tweaks to their day-to-day routine. The golden retriever had finally gotten a real taste of the humiliation and powerlessness that he had craved for so long, and he didn't want it to end. His mate had understood this and decided to not remove the hypnosis that let the white skunk have complete control over his lover merely by uttering the phrase "Why don't you..." before any command. Whenever the canine wasn't at work, he was the mephit's toy and plaything. He would debase and embarrass himself, and pleasure Oliver in anyway that he desired.

The skunk knew that his boyfriend desired to have his limits continually pushed further, so he had spaced his orders out to let his partner's tolerance for humiliation dip a bit between each directive and give the dog the full impact of the public embarrassment. He also didn't want the feeling of helplessness to wane with familiarity and avoided using his deeply-imbedded programming until he was ready to force his submissive over a major hurdle. When he did issue an order, he could see the faint glaze to his chocolate-brown eyes as the suggestion whispered in the back of his mind to surrender to his owner's whims.

He had his slave worship his paws, cock, and balls, pee himself in various public places, stay completely erect as he took a long shower post-workout at the gym, ask shopkeepers where they kept the adult diapers while implying he needed them, walk around locker-rooms wearing cartoon-printed briefs like a cub, buy lace panties at a busy shopping mall, and more.

Recently, Oliver had started planning his best idea yet.

As Marc hit the off button on his alarm and rolled out of bed one morning, the mephit groggily opened a vibrant, pink eye to look at his lover. The retriever was thirty-one and on the heavy side of average (gaining a slight stomach as he aged out of his twenties), but with a well-maintained body due to regular exercise. His fur was, as usual, trimmed short and showed the faint contours of his muscles as he yawned and stretched. He was as handsome as he had ever been, standing in only the white briefs he had worn to bed. He arched his back, which prominently displayed the musky pouch of his designer underwear. The fabric was stretched tight across his sheath and sac, revealing every contour of his morning hardness. The thick knot at the base made a second, smaller bulb above the rounded bulge of his testicles, and the spade-shaped tip of his scarlet length peeked out above the low-cut elastic waistband. It leaked a little bead of glistening precum for whatever erotic dream the morning had stolen away from him.

"Why don't you skip your morning piss?" Oliver proposed with an impish smirk.

The canid eyed him suspiciously for an instant before the compulsion took hold. He felt a small twinge in his bladder from a night's worth of urine wanting release, but it wasn't terrible for the moment. The urge to comply needled his brain. He knew he wouldn't have been unable to overcome the command even if he tried his best. The mind-control was too strongly ingrained in his psyche at this point. Not only had Marc been very susceptible to the initial hypnosis to lower his inhibitions, but they had reinforced the track that gave up his autonomy whenever Oliver said those magic words many times in the past weeks. As long as the dog could hold his bladder, he would.

He shucked his underwear and gave his mate a clear view of his cleft as he wandered into the bathroom to shower. By the time he was dry and dressed for work, the striped anthro was already waiting for him with a light breakfast to eat in the car.

"A couple of things before you go today. Why don't you stay hydrated today by drinking a bottle of water every hour as well as drinking any drink another fur offers you today?" Oliver requested, his smile growing more wicked as he spoke. "And, why don't you not pee until I tell you to?"

The canine understood, at least he thought he did. His domineering boyfriend was trying to force a true accident out of him. He had been commanded to piss himself multiple times now, which still carried with it a satisfying stab of embarrassment, but he had never truly lost control. He felt a strange pang of mixed arousal and dread.

"Yes, Master."

Marc nodded his understanding with drooping ears. The skunk leaned in and kissed his pet passionately goodbye. The canid's bladder continued to protest in traffic, but he was able to keep it well under control and even finished his first bottle of water by the time the drive was through. He got into the office and immediately got to work. His need to relieve himself continued to grow as he drank more and more water, but there was nothing he could do about it. After a couple of hours his phone rang (insurance had covered a replacement for the one he had "lost" on vacation).

He saw mate's photo on the screen, posing erotically in a pink, purple, and black jockstrap with this massive, fluffy tail erect behind him. The dual, broad black stripes in the plush, snowy fur curved down to disappear behind his back and naturally drew the eye downward. Marc appreciated the image for a second before answering the call.

"Why don't you release your bladder for exactly two seconds everytime you hear the word water?" His owner's voice stated simply.

"Yes, Master," he replied, grateful none of the anthros that he worked with were in direct earshot to hear the way he spoke with his partner.

They made quick goodbyes and hung up.

'How hard could that be? Avoid hearing someone say water?'

Not much later, one of the several employees that the golden retriever shared his office with came around the corner. A heavy-set, muscular beagle named Ace. He looked bemused at the array of bottled water on Marc's desk and small stockpile of empty plastic bottles in the recycling bin.

"What are you drinking so much water all of a sudden? Let's go get some coffee. Come on, I'm buying."

He unconsciously obeyed his Master. With scarcely a tickle of acknowledgement at the back of his brain, his stressed bladder relaxed for the mandatory two seconds. That brief moment felt like an eternity as a small torrent of piss sprayed from the canid's penis. He felt the warm, damp patch spread across his underwear before he could process what had happened. Heart thumping, he glanced down and was relieved to find that the flow of urine didn't make his crotch wet enough for pee to soak through the fabric.

Once the dogs had reached the coffee chain across the street from their office, Ace handed Marc a large cup of coffee and they grabbed a table to chat. Unable to resist the steaming beverage due to the mephit's programming, he accepted the drink and started to imbibe it.

"What did you and your mate do over the weekend?" the beagle asked.

The canine flashed back to being made to loudly pleasure himself in a public restroom stall.

"You know. The usual stuff. You?"

"We went jet skiing. You ever been? Zooming across that lake with the water spraying you in the face...it's the best!"' Ace replied excitedly.

The dog fought to keep his face neutral as he felt another jet of piss escaped the tip of his sheath. It was agonizing relief. He had severely needed to use the toilet and was unable to indulge that desire, so hearing the trigger-word gave him a much needed venting of pressure, but in doing so he was soaking his underwear with potent urine and risking a humiliatingly wet groin. A quick check of his lap revealed a small but very visible circle moisture taking shape on his pants. He was nervous about the potential discovery, but was also fairly certain that he could play it off as a particularly large drop of coffee staining his trousers.

They chatted for a little while longer. Marc regretted asking about his coworker's day off. The other canine lingered on his adventurers lakeside and invariably the dreaded word popped up a few more times. Once their drinks were about empty, the retriever made to get up and leave, angling pelvis away from his friend's direct line of sight. He would have removed his suit jacket and held it casually in front of him, but the cafe was rather cold and he was worried that he would seem more conspicuous if he feigned being too warm.

The canid had made it most of the way to the door when he was gently guided by the arm back to the barista's stand by his companion.

"You work too hard. Take an extra long break today. One more coffee on me," Ace stated with a friendly smile. "Then you can go back to the office and your water."

Marc almost whimpered as he felt his straining bladder release another gush of piss into his already saturated underwear. The once pure fabric was now damp and surely quite yellowed by his many small spurts of urine. He felt it pass through the stretched cotton and trickle down his thighs. His face flush with shame. The beagle cocked his head and glanced curiously at his crotch, following the other dog's gaze. There were several obviously recent, damp splotches speckled across his lap.

The embarrassed fur mumbled something about being clumsy and splashing coffee from his last cup onto himself, but was unsure if his coworker bought the lie.

"All the more reason to have another, since you didn't get to enjoy all of the first!"

Ace clapped the other anthro heartily on the shoulder as he paid for their drinks. Marc was handed his cup, which he was unable to refuse, despite his painfully full bladder. The small spasms and and discharges that he had been forced to unleash had done little overall to alleviate the pressure he felt and he was slowly becoming aware of the tell-tale scent about him. Not having had a chance to pee that morning, his urine had a stronger smell than normal, even with the constant hydration, and if it weren't for the aroma of ground coffee beans in the shop, he was sure that others would be able to smell it too.

By the time he had finished his second giant cup of brew, his footpaws were bouncing around so erratically with the need to pee that he was practically dancing, and he fought to not grab at his crotch like a cub struggling to hold their bladder in search of a restroom. The brisk walk across the street helped a bit, once the pressure of sitting still was removed. The hour had rolled over during their break and instinctively he unscrewed another bottle of water at his desk, wondering how long he would make it before he gave out and humiliated himself in front of all of his coworkers.

It was shortly after lunch when the golden retriever felt his physical ability to hold it begin to crumble. It started with an involuntary squirt, unprompted by the trigger word. He shook as he struggled to hold it in. He had reached his capacity. The pain in his bladder was immense. It twinged and protested, and he knew there was no hope. Were it up to him he would have voluntarily released by that point, but the programming was too strong. Marc would need to suffer through to the very last moment that he had any ability left to control himself.

A few minutes later and the dam burst entirely. He was trying to focus on his work at his desk, and failing due to the obvious distraction, when squeezing his thighs tightly together no longer helped. He started to leak a trickle, then like an overused, sore muscle, the canine's bladder gave out entirely. A torrent of piss flooded into his underwear, drenching his pants and chair. He struggled against groaning in satisfaction as it finally happened. He peed for a solid thirty seconds, shaking both in physical relaxation and embarrassment. As the flow subsided and the urine on the seat and the floor started to pool uncomfortably around him, Marc heard the voices of other employees coming from nearby.

He needed to think fast to avoid complete indignity. Realizing that he had more bottles of water in his stockpile than he needed for the day, the dog unscrewed one and poured it onto himself. He left it tipped over on the edge of his desk. The deluge would hide his shame and hopefully dilute the potent scent of canid urine. He trembled nervously. Marc completed the charade just in time as Ace and a few others came into view. He did his best to cover the relief and embarrassment on his face with a feigned annoyance at the spill.

"What happened?" The beagle asked.

"I was just clumsy and knocked my drink over. I don't have a change of clothes on me either, so it looks like I'm going to be damp for the rest of the day," he replied, preemptively covering up for future accidents. He still had hours to go before he got home to Oliver. With an entire bottle of water every hour he was sure to build up a need nearly as intense as the one that had just pushed him over the edge.

Ace sniffed the air and gave his friend a peculiar smile, but continued past him and around a corner.

Marc was glad he was sitting as they walked by. The humiliation and andrenline of hiding his public accident excited him. His sheath was already swelling and his cock tip pressed hard into the piss-soaked fabric of his underwear. Such a state being noticed would be even more embarrassing. His heart pounded and his shaft throbbed at the idea.

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully. There were some ironic jokes about him wetting his pants due to the spilt water that were intended in good humor (if they only knew) and the code word popped up a couple more times in casual conversation, but otherwise the canid's urge to piss slowly built up again over the afternoon. By the time he was sitting in traffic on the way home, he was nearly ready to piss himself again.

As Marc entered his home he found his lover, the slender, sexy white skunk, Oliver, standing nearly-nude in the archway leading into their kitchen.

"Why don't you strip naked and lay on your back on the kitchen floor?" He underwear-clad mephit said. His shiny, black trunks displayed a prominent bulge.

The retriever felt the drive to obey grip him. He strode toward the kitchen while disrobing before he had even consciously registered the words. He tossed his tie and shirt one way, his pants and ruined underwear the other, until he was completely exposed and already plumping with arousal without even knowing what his dominant mate had in store for him. The linoleum tile was cool across his back when he laid down as ordered. He shivered as his anticipation grew.

"Do you need to piss?" The slighter anthro asked cruelly.

Oliver placed his footpaw below the dog's navel and gently pressed down on his bladder, causing his plaything to whine.

"Y-yes-" Marc replied in a shaky voice before he was cut off.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Master!"

"What do you want? Beg me for it," he commanded, not even using his hypnotic control to make it happen. He let his submissive enjoy the degradation of willingly yielding to his dominance.

"Please, Master, let me pee! I need to go so badly!" The canine exclaimed as his lover pressed a bit harder on his bladder and drummed his toe-claws on his lower abdomen.

"Fine. I will. Why don't you angle your sheath so that you'll piss right into your mouth? Then you may pee until your bladder is empty. Swallow as much of it as you can."

Without hesitation, he felt the compulsion take effect. Even after all of these weeks it was still a strange feeling to feel his muscles seemingly move of their own accord when given a command in the proper format. He knew that he was just following orders on an instinct that was programmed into him, yet he wouldn't be able to fight it if he wanted to. With one paw he aimed the tip of his sheath so that his powerful jet of piss would make a high arc before drizzling down into and around his muzzle. His flow started immediately. A line of wetness quickly splashed up his chest until he was at full pressure and urine was raining down into his maw. He felt the bitter, salty tang of piss glide across his tongue. His mouth filled rapidly, and he needed to swallow often to gulp it all down. His aim wasn't quite precise, and plenty splattered onto his neck, collar and chest, and dripped down on his face, forming a small pale-yellow halo around his head and shoulders.

Oliver's cock was rigid in his underwear as he watched the show. He languidly stroked and squeezed his organ through the fabric as he watched the canine debase himself under his full control. As the stream diminished, the skunk placed his footpaw on his lover's very damp groin and massaged his sheath with it. With surprising finesse he eased the golden retriever's crimson maleness from his furry confines, eliciting moans of desire. Marc gasped of sudden pleasure as the thick knot at the base of his length popped free.

He felt the velvety pawpads slide across his member. He was already leaking copious amounts of precum, and it wasn't long before the mephit's paw was dampened with the combination of both that and piss. Oliver continued to agilely caress his lover's hardness, smiling at every groan and needy whimper.

"Why don't you sit up while I play with you?" The nimble fur suggested, forcing his pet to do just that. Once the canid complied he grabbed the back of his head, tangling his fingers in the fur there and forcing his snoot against the pouch of his trunks.

He never stopped rubbing his foot against his partner's hardness.

"Why don't you inhale my scent?" Oliver ordered.

Marc took a long, deep breath and smelled the potent, heady scent of his boyfriend's musk. The intoxicating smell of arousal combined with sweat filled his nostrils. It was obvious that the mephit had worked out that day while wearing that pair of underwear and had declined to shower afterward, letting his pheromones and perspiration mingle into a powerful concoction befitting a skunk.

The hypnotized dog felt himself draw close. He closed his eyes as his breathing became uneven and ragged while he nuzzled into the bulge of his mate's underwear. His Master's dexterous footpaws continued to work wonders and brought his submissive to the edge of climax. His sac drew tight and his muscles tensed. With a few final strokes, the canid came hard. Thick ropes of glistening dog spunk erupted from his throbbing shaft. Several pumps of cum shot from his tip, glazing his mate's footpaw with sticky seed.

Oliver wrapped his gooey toes around the sensitive rod and milked the remaining essence from it.

"Why don't you clean my pawpads with your tongue?" He commanded mercilessly. He knew that while in his post-orgasmic haze Marc would be least inclined to degrade himself, and thus later derive the most pleasure from the memory.

The black and white fur gracefully balanced on one paw and raised his cum-covered toe-claws to his mind-slave's muzzle. Marc, unable to combat the hypnotic urgings seated deep within his thoughts, opened his mouth and slid out his tongue. He rolled the wet organ across his owner's foot, between his toes, and tasted his own cooling load. Aroused by his loss of control and the humiliation that he had suffered throughout the day, the canine had cum a lot and he swallowed mouthfuls of his own spunk by the time his boyfriend was satisfied with the state of his paw, which he then used to gently press his mate back down onto the floor.

Still holding his partner down, Oliver hooked the waistband of his underwear beneath his balls to reveal his tapered, onyx cock. It freely oozed rivers of watery pre and quivered with want, revealing that he was already close to orgasm from the pleasure of dominating his puppet. He gripped his maleness and rapid pistoned it into his fist. Within thirty seconds his breath hitched and he bit his lip as he reached climax. With a short, rapid series of satisfied huffs he sprayed a blast of mephit seed over his mate. The droplets peppered the retriever's face and chest. The opalescent globules slowly melted into Marc's fur with his body heat, dripping down the contours of his reclining form.

"Why don't you use your underwear to wipe yourself- and the floor- clean? Then put them back on. And why don't you not remove them for any reason until I tell you otherwise?" The skunk advised, chest heaving in his afterglow.

Marc's ears folded, that meant he'd be stuck wearing his piss and cum drenched briefs for the rest of the night, and likely the next day as well, and anytime he had to pee, unless his mate was feeling charitable; it would be down through the already soaked and stained fabric.

The following morning, the canine woke up feeling musky and gross.

His beloved owner rolled over and eyed him lewdly after his alarm went off, lazily placing an arm over his torso and snuggling in close.

"Why don't you let me fuck you before you leave?" He said. His voice was sleepy, but nonetheless held that edge of excitement from hypnotically compelling his plaything into service. The dog was forced to submit despite his need to get to work. He shifted back and grinded his underwear-clad rump against his Master's morning erection.

Oliver retrieved a bottle of lube that he kept in the drawer of the nightstand and drizzled a generous amount into his palm. He ran his claws through it and slicked his fingers before slipping the wet digits beneath the waistband of his lover's briefs to blindly prob for his tailhole. They quickly found their mark and wriggled into the canine's tight heat. He started with two fingers. The digits easily made their way in. The skunk beckoned inside of his slave, brushing past his pleasure center again and again, causing him to fidget and squirm with need. He added a third claw and started to slowly scissor them apart, prying his partner's entrance open and stretching him for the upcoming event.

When he was prepared enough, able to take a cock but still snug, the skunk slathered the remaining lube over his rigid length. He tugged down the golden retriever's underwear enough that he could line his hardness up with prepared hole. Without further hesitation, he jabbed himself in, roughly taking the ring of flesh. He knew that both of them got more enjoyment out of the canid being used than he did out of a romantic lovemaking session. Oliver was not a particularly large skunk, but his solid five inches suited his lithe frame well. With one strong thrust he buried them all into his mate, who moaned with satisfaction as he was harshly penetrated.

Oliver pumped in and out of his toy with wild abandon. He knew that they didn't have much time. He bit down on his boyfriend's collar hard and reached around to fondle his girthy maleness while they fucked. With a skillful paw he brought the whimpering dog to orgasm in short order. After merely a few strokes Marc's ejaculate sprayed into the pouch of his already soiled briefs, soaking into the fabric and squishing around his genitals. The white-furred anthro finished soon after, driving himself into his pet to the hilt and injecting his essence deep into his mate's used hole.

Marc was allowed to hastily dress, but was forced to continue to wear his piss-stained and cum-soaked underwear beneath his work clothes and gave him similar set of orders to the day before. He hadn't been permitted a shower by his Master so the faint smell of sweat, sex, and urine clung to him, and as his underwear had dried it felt decidedly uncomfortable. The scent was mostly covered up the cologne he applied before heading out, but a keen nose like his own (or any other canid for that matter), would surely detect the unique aromas.

When he arrived at the office, Ace greeted him. He paused while tapping away on his phone to sniff the air and cocked his head to the side inquisitively, but the beagle said nothing regarding what he clearly must have noticed. Having once again skipped his morning piss and been forced to continually drink water, Marc already sorely need to relieve himself. That combined with the feeling of his owner's cooling spunk leaking from his ring made him jittery. The retriever tried to preemptively exempt himself from any oncoming conversation. Thankfully, his phone rang at just that moment, sparing him the need for an excuse.

"Hello?"

It was Oliver's voice that responded.

"Water...water...water...water...water...water...water...water...water...water."

There was almost a two second pause between each word. Marc could hear the cruel smile in the mephit's voice as the pee started to flow. Standing in front of his coworker, he relieved himself for a solid twenty seconds. He didn't dare hang up on his Master to avoid hearing the designated word, but the call ended as soon as Oliver was done speaking.

"Are...are you alright, Marc?" The other dog asked, stifling a chuckle at his expense as urine pooled beneath him. "You're pissing yourself! You aren't drunk are you? Sick? We should get you home."

He immediately guided his fellow canine back to the parking lot, passing many anthros along the way. The massive dark, wet patch between his thighs was unmistakable.

They got into Ace's car, who insisted that he drive since, as he put it, if Marc couldn't hold his piss, he certainly shouldn't be driving. The golden retriever's ears lowered and he slumped, thoroughly humiliated, in his seat throughout the ride. They were greeted at the door by a leering Oliver, who yanked it open wide before they had even reached it.

"Ace has been nice by helping me give you exactly what you want," the mephit admitted as the dogs wandered in. Marc blushed in embarrassment. "I hope you've been enjoying the torment. Why don't you get down on all fours so you can properly thank your friend? And why don't you strip to your underwear while you're at it?"

The canid sank to the floor. He unbuttoned and discarded his shirt before awkwardly kicking free of his trousers.

"I wasn't sure I believed you at first when you told me you hypnotized him, but when I got him to piss himself all day at work yesterday, I was sold."

The white skunk started to disrobe, and as if by predetermined cue, so did the beagle.

He tossed aside his shirt to reveal a heavy upper body. He had a severely masculine build; strong with a bit of a rounded gut covering his powerful physique. He had always appeared muscular along with his heft, but the contours of his biceps were pronounced as he stripped. He unbuckled his belt and shimmed his slacks down his thickly defined thighs, leaving him standing in only a tight fitting undershirt and navy boxer-briefs that hugged his sturdy form. His massive sheath and sac bulged in the sweaty pouch of his underwear. From the scent of his arousal and the plumpness of his sheath, the beagle seemed to have as much fun teasing his coworker as the retriever did being used.

"Why don't you get a noseful of his musk?"

Marc leaned forward until the tip of his snoot bumped against the fabric and sniffed the sharp odor of his friend's crotch. Ace scritched behind his ear patronizingly.

"Why don't you taste it? Go on, give it a lick."

Oliver was clearly enjoying puppeteering the scene from the sidelines.

The submissive canine stuck forth his tongue and ran it across the other dog's crotch, tasting the tang of his sweat.

Ace's fat cock started to appear over the waistband of his underwear. It was a shiny crimson shaft, faintly marbled with a fleshier pink, with prominent veins. It practically gushed precum, trickling streams of the slick substance back down into the fabric and occasionally spurting onto Marc's face and tongue. The chubby canid removed his underwear and brandished his enormous length. He tapped it on his friend's muzzle, dripping a gleaming strand of precum on top of his snoot.

"Why don't you give it a kiss? A good one," Oliver continued, finally fully naked himself and moving to stand next to the other horny dom fur in the room.

Marc was enthralled and aroused. He wanted to suck the cock before him and his inhibitions would normally had gotten the better of him. Playing with an anthro outside their relationship? Crossing the boundary between co-worker and sex partner? He was grateful to have the programming to push him over the line and be the submissive sex-slave he wanted to be.

He leaned forward and held the rigid length with one paw, in a gentle but firm grasp, and then ran his tongue up the side of it, starting at the thick knot at the base, and rolling all of the way up to its leaking tip. He kissed it as deeply and thoroughly as he would any lover, and proceeded to plant a series of smaller kisses along the shaft. He worshiped the member with his mouth, almost moaning with satisfaction as he pleasured the beagle.

"Why don't you enjoy us both at the same time?" The skunk added. He thrust his hips forward to poke his tapered penis at the side of his toy's eager muzzle.

The canine took one rod in each paw and opened his mouth. He stroked one while suckling the other, keeping rhythm with his paw well while he bobbed on the opposite member and switching who received which source of rapture every several seconds. He occasionally let both tips rest in his muzzle as he worked, flicking his tongue across each and swallowing the watery pre they both had to give. His Master and their friend groaned and grunted and murred with contentment as they approached climax.

He angled their cocks toward his open maw just as the shuddered and snarled almost in tandem. Each unloaded a large burst of spunk onto and into him. Most of it landed in his mouth, splashing across his tongue, but plenty painted his face and chest as well.

Ace milked the last remnants of his seed from his dripping phallus with a pleased aura about him, and let it drip lazily onto the kneeling pup.

"Thanks for letting me use your pet. I really needed that."

"Anytime- Actually," the mephit smiled mischievously as he turned his attention toward Marc. "Why don't you give our friend a blowjob whenever he asks you for one from now on?"