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Daddy's Little Dropout

By DirtCoyote

Son

Everett gasped and swung around, yanking the headset off of his ears. Heart pounding, he pulled himself partly out of the chair. Something had made a sound, that was for sure, but there was also a prickling at the tips of his fur. Fuzzy static hung over his entire body; an eeriness that came from being watched just over his shoulder. No one was in the room with him.

Drawing in long, he sniffed the air, searching for anyone that might have been in the house with him. It was muddled, too many scents from the party for his untrained snout to pick apart what was new or what had remained. He could swear his father was close, but the older canid's scent always hung in the air. The hackles on the back of his neck rose, anticipating something he was little aware of.

A wheezing startled him, getting him straight to his feet. Panicking, he looked for something to defend himself with. Nothing in the room immediately stood out to him, and he was left with nothing but his control raised over his head. Clicking startled him again, his bladder feeling heavy like he was ready to piss himself from fear alone. Metal scraped and he was quite ready to leap out the window when he felt cold air hit his nose.

A sigh of relief escaped as he realized it was just the air conditioning that made all the noise. He was ready to sit back down in his gaming chair when he caught the distinct smell of urine. The AC had spooked him enough that there was a dab and line of piss running down his tighty whities. Everett shook his head, putting the headset back to his ears. "Yo, um, I gotta hit this chick up. Play a few without me," he lied and closed the game before anyone could ask questions.

Everett yawned, looking to the window to gauge the time. Feeling pretty proud of the party, he told himself he earned a relaxation day. Maybe he would grab all of the bottles and containers tonight and call the maids to come in tomorrow. He definitely at least had to do something today or be left cleaning everything up in a hurry on Monday morning. At least, he thought he was sure that his dad wouldn't be back until then. Something was happening on Monday, and he'd be done cleaning before then.

Reaching down, he grabbed hold of the warm bottle of beer and stuffed it in his muzzle. Stale, but it helped with the hangover he was sporting. Stumbling a little bit, he accidentally knocked over one of the bottles along the wall, but didn't bother picking it up. The maids would clean up everything like it was new. His parents never caught on to any of the parties he hosted in the flat downtown.

Thinking of the flat made him wish that he was staying with his mom instead of his dad. This shithole in the middle of fucking nowhere stunk of truckers and manure. It was nothing like the city, and if it wasn't for dad fucking up his relationship with mom, he'd be there right now. She was the first person he called when he packed his bags, only to find out that they were in the middle of a divorce. Mom was so distraught that she needed the space alone to grieve their failed marriage. Instead, he was forced to call dad and beg to stay at his place.

Carl didn't even say yes immediately, just continually asked him what happened. Bastard was more concerned about that then his own son having a place to live. When the maids would come, he'd be sure to work them hard so that it looked like he had gone above and beyond. That should get his dad to lay off him in the future.

Stepping into the bathroom, he didn't bother closing the door behind him. In the mirror, he caught his unkempt reflection. Everett's muddy brown cub coat prevailed in spots throughout his chest, stomach, and shoulders. The black mane he wore on his back was short and patchy. Even his mitts were only up to his forearm and resembled dark chocolate instead of an adult's deep charcoal. How could someone ask him to do slave work or be expected to start university looking like this? He was only nineteen and should be out there living his life.

One single step towards the toilet and the entire world went black. Hurdling off his feet, his back met the ground hard and he jerked awkwardly in pain. He tried to scream, whatever was over his eyes and muzzle kept him from making too much noise. With the air knocked out of his lung, he was left struggling just to gasp for air. Up and down, left and right no longer held firm meanings to him as he was dragged around helplessly. Even as he went down a flight of stairs, he was too confused to know what was going on.

Shoved onto something like a table, he was finally beginning to get some of his baring. The soft cushioned bench against his belly was tall enough that even his length limbs couldn't reach the floor. Unable to see where to plant his paws, he struggled to find purchase. It wouldn't matter. One by one, his limbs were secured to the bench by straps he couldn't fight. Everett tried to scream again, now floundering in every direction as he fought to free his wrists and ankles.

"Holy fuck, Everett. Did you really have to piss yourself all the way down the stairs?"

Everett stopped fighting, his body naturally untensing at the sound of his father's deep voice. Relief was brief, realizing quickly that daddy dearest wasn't the one to save him, but the one that put him in the contraption. He shook his head violently back and forth, trying to throw off the bag just so he could see what was going on. Harshly, his father yanking off himself, taking some fur with the bag.

"Ow! What the fuck, Dad?" he shouted.

Harsh light hit his eyes, drawing his entire muzzle downward to shield himself. He'd thought his hangover had been bad when he woke up this morning, but the spinning and light was causing a pounding in his head like no other. Slowly, he began to force himself to look around the room. As it came into view though, he wished that his dad just left the bag on him.

"Are you fucking crazy?" Everett asked as he jerked at the straps. "You can't do this to me."

Everett turned his head as far as he could around, trying to catch a glimpse of the older male circling him. Everything came into view, the black cushion underneath him was only the top of the rig he was placed on. The rest of it was wooden, raised off the ground with leather tying down his arms and legs. It all clicked and he realized it was the wooden horse his father had in his freak basement.

Turning his head up, he could see all of the other different things that were across the room. On his right was adjustable standing stocks made of both iron and wood. To the left, there was an intimidating stainless steel cross just a foot from a rack of actual real whips. All along the walls were high quality blown up posters of different species. There were men and women covered in different gear or strapped to devices, usually blindfolded and/or gagged.

Perhaps intentionally, the largest poster of an arctic fox was placed directly across the wooden horse. Facing from the camera's view with his tail tucked, he was on his knees with black shackles chaining his wrists and ankles close. His muzzle was turned just enough so the saliva dripping from the steel ring gag and the stream of tears pouring from the black blindfold could all be seen. Red lines slashed about his bare back showed traces of blood running to ruin his precious white coat.

Panicked ensued, Everett jerking everything at once, not wanting to be in this position a second longer. A crack behind him stopped his struggling and he tightened his brace around the wooden horse for safety. After a second of silence, he pulled himself up enough to look behind him. Over his shoulder in a pink tank top and jorts, his dad leaned against a workbench holding a midnight blue leather bound paddle.

Everett shook and cowered. "What're you gonna do with that?"

"What I honestly should have done a long time ago," his father responded coldly.

"If you hit me, I'll call the cops. I'll tell them you assaulted me. Mom wi--" the boy caught the older maned wolf's muzzle twist. Everett knew he made a mistake as his father got off the bench. "I won't say a thing! I'm sorry, Dad! I'll clean up everything. I'll get to it right now. I'll do anything! Daddy, please don't."

Carl paused at that, layers of frustration etched along his expression. He was struggling with his choices, something about being called Daddy startled him. Everett almost felt relieved as his father's ears and muzzle drooped, but the older maned wolf wasn't through. He pointed the paddle straight at Everett's nose and growled out, "I've never hit you once, and I raised an absolute monster of a child. Maybe if I start now, I can teach you some respect."

Like the worm he was, he wriggled around on top of the bench to free himself again. "Daddy! No, Daddy, please. I'll be good. I love you, Daddy. I respect you, Daddy," Everett pleaded, hoping he could make him stop again.

It didn't, and the straps didn't give in the slightest. Dread overwhelmed Everett as his father closed the gap between them. He turned his head, closing his eyes not wanting to see what he was about to do, and braced himself for the worst. "OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OWEE!" Everett screamed.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Carl yelled, stunned yet again from his son's outburst. "I just grabbed your tail!"

Everett opened his eyes, turning to see his father so taken aback by his son's screams that he had to let go. Snot and tears already building up, he whined back at his dad, "You grabbed me too hard! It hurt!" He sniffled loudly like he was nine instead of nineteen.

Lips pursed tightly together, Carl shook his head before stepping towards his son again. He grabbed his tail much harder than he did the first time. Everett protested in another wave of "ows" again, but nothing phased his father. Steadying himself, the maned wolf placed the paddle on his son's asscheek. Everett braced himself, closing his eyes and clenching his teeth tight. All in a second, he felt the paddle swing from his cheeks, whistle as it drew back, and swish before making contact.

Crack.

Sharper and higher than his already high pitched voice, Everett's screech filled the basement, if not the entire house. "IIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

After all the air in his lungs released came a long gross sob as he sucked in breath. The leather bindings of the paddle pulled at his briefs when his father slowly removed it from his ass. Bawling his eyes out and gasping loud, Everett cried with his head against the wooden horse's cushion. He dropped his shoulders and crotch, relaxing his muscles for the first time since he'd been tied down. Milking his wailing, he tried to present as pathetic as possible in hopes his father could see his lesson was learned.

As soon as his father let go of his tail, he tucked it, trying to use it to shield him from any further abuse. Red hot searing pain started from his burning ass cheeks and radiated to his lower back and legs. Not only that, but the base of his poor tail still stung from where his father grabbed him. He'd never felt something so intense in his entire life and he didn't know if he'd ever be able to walk (or sit) again.

"Are you finished, primadonna?" Carl asked.

Everett took a sharp breath in and turned to face his father's astonished expression. The maned wolf had stepped back, ears folded from the cries but otherwise somewhat smug with his leaned back posture. Glaring, he met his father's apathy with anger and took a few more sniffs before talking back. "I hope you're happy," he said in a childish tone, pausing to force another sob. "Now you're gonna have to take me to the hospital."

Carl blinked, jaw hung open. It took him half a minute to even fully process his son's words. "Seriously? You're fucking serious, of course you are," Carl snarled with his arms thrown in the air. Livid, he looked back down on his son before getting right back into position. "You want a doctor's call? Well, here's your medicine."

"NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO! AH! AHHH! AHHHHHHHH!"

Again, his father grabbed hold of his tail, lifting it so he had nothing but his soaked tighty whities to protect him. Carl started in, this time not letting up as he finished each slap. None of the swats hit him nearly as hard as that first one, but they were relentless. Every strike against his ass was quickly met by another, and Everett would cry out with each one. There was no time to sob as he yelped and squealed, trying to fight the restraints. The briefs did nothing for him other than show off the pink glow growing from his rear.

Finally, after he'd long lost count of how many times his father hit him, he felt his tail released. All Everett could do was weep and whimper, snot and tears leaving puddles onto the basement's concrete floor. He didn't look at his father, not wanting anything to do with him ever again, until a loud crash grabbed his attention.

Despite his sore muscles and exhaustion, he still managed to jump hard enough to make the straps dig through his fur. The paddle skidded across the room before dropping into a corner. He traced its trajectory back to his father and caught the mane wolf scowling at him. Everett turned on the faucets again, looking to complain about the pain and suffering, but shut his mouth when he saw his father's nostrils flare.

Waiting a second, Carl remained silent until Everett looked to not interrupt him. "I raised you, sent you to college, took you back in when no one else would. Then, ontop all of that, I spoiled the mother loving piss out of you. You, in return, broke every single god damn rule I gave you. No guests, do your chores, and stay out of my mother fucking basement. Speaking of which--"

"--I didn't mean to go down here! It was the guys! They wanted to see what was down here so they picked the lock and--Hey!" Everett grovelled, trying to call for his dad when he watched him storm out.

Worrying about being left alone only lasted less than a minute. His dad stomped back in the room holding something in each paw, but the tears kept the details hidden. After blinking and shaking his muzzle a couple times, his vision cleared up enough for him to make out the adult replicas he'd stolen from the cases. They still glimmered with lube.

The white in his chin and cheeks flushed, but he couldn't turn himself from this father's approach. "Remember these?" he asked casually. Everett, of course, did remember them quite well. They'd been the closest thing he'd ever gotten to real dick and pussy in his entire life. All of the cheap plastic vibrators, discount dildos, pocket pussies, banana peels, and phallic vegetables felt nowhere near as good as those two toys.

He knew from the second he saw them that he was going to use them. Lost in fantasy, he was brought back to attention abruptly with the wet slap of the disgusting dog dong right against his muzzle. "Ew! Dad, gross!" he revolted, his sadness and misery easily replaced by nausea. A string of lube hung where his father had hit him.

"Yes, gross! Used my fucking toys and then just leave them on your bed? How old are you? Who the fuck does that?" Carl asked as he circled around him, waving the dildo as he spoke. "You need a serious lesson about hygiene and I'm about to give it to you."

Everett gagged hard, repulsed by his father's actions. Now he was sure that his dad was a complete psychopath and he was right for saying all those things about him. While wrenching nonstop, he couldn't see where his father had gone and focused on trying to expel the beer and day old pizza inside of his system. Nothing was coming up, but he tried just so that he could express how awful his father was treating him.

Without any warning, his gag was cut short as something was placed inside of his muzzle. Everett whipped his head around, trying to throw whatever it was out of his maw. Seeing now, his father had wrapped his arms around his head with something smooth. Carl pulled it back with straps, forcing his muzzle wider and wider as he fit behind his teeth until it was all the way at the back of his jaw. About the time he noticed his tongue fit through the device did he realize it was a ring gag holding open his maw.

"Uh ah, uh ah," Everett rejected, trying to fling his father's grip as he shook.

It was too late though. Carl had fit the straps behind his head and laced the buckle shut. Stretched further than was comfortable for him, his jaw ached and natural urges to close his mouth only further strained his tender muzzle. Drool dribbled out the sides of his lips and he couldn't imagine how pathetic he must look right now. An overwhelming sense of unfairness swept over him, and again he was reduced to tears and sobbing. At least, what could be considered sobbing with the gag in.

"Enough!" Carl shouted, and when he didn't stop, he followed it with the deepest roar-bark he'd ever heard his dad make. It boomed from somewhere deep inside his stomach, releasing out like a volcano. The insides of Everett's skull bounced around from the sound, but it didn't stop his crying. In fact, like every time he'd heard Carl's roar-bark, it just made him cry harder. Unlike the other times though, where his father would just storm off, he was stomping towards him furiously.

Everett's sobs were cut short as Ivan's ten inch silicon german shepherd cock was stuffed all the way inside of his muzzle. It dragged against his tongue, the taste of lube and ass strong on the toy. He tried to spit it out, but the ring held his wide maw open. Trying to turn his head away from the dildo proved to be a mistake that was fast corrected. Carl reached down, grabbing one of Everett's ears and twisting hard while directing him back into position.

"No you don't!" he said as he pulled his muzzle back. "You're not finished until it's squeaky fucking clean."

Momentary relieval was short-lived when Carl let go of his ear and gripped his chin. Cross-eyed, Everett watched his father push the dildo back into his mouth. Starting slow, he let the tip hold on top of his tongue, rolling it around back and forth. It didn't tasteas bad as he initially thought, but it certainly wasn't good. Mostly though, it was the cheap gas station lube's chemical flavor attacking his taste buds.

Carl continued to run it inside of his maw, getting inch after inch of the veiny red dildo in until Everett felt it pass through the ring. Just as he felt it touch the back of his throat, he pulled it back until the tip was back at his tongue again. Then, slow and soft, he worked the dildo over his tongue like he had the first time. All the while he'd spiral it back and forth, staying true to the fact that he was literally cleaning the toy with his son's tongue.

Over the lube, Everett caught his father's scent, noticing the subtle changes. What'd started as anger and guilt was transforming. He looked up at his father's tongue pressing out his tight lips, it was clear as day that he was enjoying this. The pervert was breathing heavily through his nose. He no longer was teaching him a lesson, but forcing the cock inside his throat for his own twisted pleasure.

And despite the pain that still burned his aching ass and tail, despite how he'd been dragged throughout the house, despite being forced to wet himself like a cub as he was kidnapped in his own home, despite him being berated by his insufferably mean father, despite how he'd hit him with the used dildo and was now forcing him to suck on it for his pleasure, and despite everything, he had to admit that he was starting to enjoy it a little bit himself.

Carl forced the toy further into his muzzle. Everett watched the knot disappear into his own maw, thick enough that it hilted at the ring. Tracing with his tongue, he outlined the ridges running along the veins. Just as he was becoming familiar with the toy, it was yanked from his maw and chucked carelessly behind him. For something his dad seemed so upset about, he didn't mind now just tossing it aside.

Everett barely finished the thought before his father walked out of view only to come back with the stroker in hand. Her used pussy still dripped the remaining cum he'd left in it from his afternoon fun. "I don't think I have to explain what you're going to do," Carl said disgruntled.

Without hesitation, he jammed the pussy right into his muzzle and waited for him. Everett's stomach turned and he refused his father's order initially. After a full ten seconds of patience, Carl reached his free paw up to cuff him with a pop right on the jaw. "Ow," he tried to complain through the gag, even though it wasn't nearly hard enough to hurt. He looked up at his father in disbelief that he'd ever strike him in the face. A stern glare downward told him that he'd hit harder if he didn't comply.

Wiggling his tongue around the ring, he started at her lips, catching most of the dried cum. It took several laps, the taste of himself being somewhat familiar to him. Which boy hasn't tried their own cum before? It wasn't as bad as the dildo at least, though, he did use the same cheap lube as he did on the other toy. Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine her being real. He'd run his tongue around and around her insides making her moan and call his name. Soon, his father's intense nasally pants became a vixen breathing hard as she rubbed her breasts. All of his own cum was now her juices flowing as he brought her to climax by his skills alone. There was no cum left to lick, but he continued to feverently go down on the toy as he fell into his own fantasy.

"You're not supposed to be enjoying this," Carl pointed out, pulling her out of his maw and lobbing it over Everett and back on the workbench he pulled it from. "This is supposed to be your punishment."

How was that fucking fair that the old man gets to be getting his rocks off watching his son suck on fake dick and pussy, but he wasn't allowed to enjoy even the slightest sliver at all? Of course his father's much better trained and sensitive nose picked up Everett's growing shaft. As if testing him, he lifted his muzzle to see his father's face before pointing his nose right back down to the obvious boner his dad was sporting. The jorts did nothing to hide his erection and if he got any harder, a button would pop off.

"I'm not..." Carl stopped himself, now a little aware of his own arousal. Everett could tell that he flustered him, but not wanting to be too caught off guard, his dad leaned in and said with a chuckle, "I'm not the one being punished right now."

With that, he dropped his paw down to his crotch and unfastened the button of his shorts. Everett's breath halted for a second, not sure if he really wanted to see this right now. The waves of pheromones were already intense against his nostrils and for every tooth of the zipper released, it grew so much stronger. Not waiting to finish unzipping, he only made it halfway before yanking down the bottom half of his clothes in one go.

Carl's cock tugged against the thong he wore all the way until he pulled it free from its prison. Erect, pulsating, and dripping of pre, it flopped out into the dungeon's air and hung just shy of Everett's nose. Just an inch shorter than Ivan's ten and practically as thick, Daddy had a monster cock. It was only right now that he realized exactly how underwhelming he was himself.

Again, Carl stepped out of view, leaving his son to just lay on the bench and wait for whatever was coming next. Soreness from his backside, wrists, and jaw weren't enough to subside his erection. Especially after seeing his dad's fascinating staff, he needed to find release for himself. Everett bucked into the cushion underneath him. The seat gave way enough to his shaft, sinking slightly as he humped to relieve some of the pressure inside of his tight briefs. He didn't even mind that his dad might be able to see what he was doing, especially if they were both enjoying themselves.

"Hold completely still."

For the first time, Everett actually did as he was told at the command, and he was glad he did. Cold sharp steel against his leg caused his entire body to tense up. With a shiver starting at the base of his spine working outward, all of the fur on his tail and back bushed. His buttocks and tailhole clenched tight at the sound of snipping. He let his father cut away at his tighty whities without complaint in fear of distracting him. Even after his father finished, he didn't unclench until he heard the scissors get tossed against the table.

"Holy hell, where you hiding the rest of it?" he laughed, making Everett swing his head back.

Carl chuckled as he was pulling off the tattered remains of his briefs and discarding them onto the ground. Heat blossomed from his ears and cheeks as he realized what his father was actually making fun of. A yipe caught in his throat as he watched his dad reach down and cup his sack within his paw. The rough pads gripped around his sensitive balls, rolling them around between his fingers. Everett tried to pull his body away, but Carl just tugged his balls back, making him nauseous.

He whimpered, not liking his father inspecting him callously like a vet. "Did you even drop? Is this fully erect?"

Next his dad gripped his shaft, pulling on him as if he was trying to get more out of his son. Everett squealed uncomfortably, again trying to escape just for his father to hold onto him. There was nowhere to go stuck to the wooden horse, but struggling futilely felt better than letting himself be handled and mocked. No one had ever told him before that he was under average or that he wasn't even fully developed. Shame trickled into mind and he tried to use his tail to bat away his father's touch.

"It's gotta be, like, what? Four, no, three inches long?" he asked, not expecting an actual answer, but pausing for one anyways. Letting go of his sack just to exchange it for his shaft and began beating it fast. Everett moaned and huffed into his gag, panting and humping right into his father's paw. He didn't care anymore if his dad was making fun of him if he was going to help him get off. The handjob was welcomed and he'd let Daddy spank him all night if he'd be jerking him off like this.

"Again, this is supposed to be your punishment. You don't think it's over, do you?" Carl said as he let go of his cock.

Growling and annoyed, he snorted hot air at his father walking away from him. Everett tried to follow him, but the maned wolf just walked out of view again and he was left frustrated. His father's skilled paw and consistently successive strokes were amazing, getting him close to the edge in just a minute's time. Trying to grind himself back and forth, Everett raced to orgasm before his father would return. He felt like he was right there, just right at the point of no return, when a surge or roaring pain erupted from his ballsack.

A piercing shrill shreaked from the young boy's heart made even Carl's resolve lower enough to waver. Over his shoulder, his old man had a riding crop lifted up into the air with a step back in sheer shock of the reaction he got. Tracks staining his cheeks ran dry when he had nothing left to give. His head spun, and he thought that was all his dad was going to do until he stepped back into position and grabbed hold of his sack.

Carl's paw gripped his balls and gave them a yank, pulling them back and keeping him from protecting himself. Everett's entire body stiffed, the young maned wolf trying his best to brace himself for what would come next. Instead of the quick rapid beating that he'd gotten with the paddle, the riding crop went down hard and accurate. His world was spinning, only the swoosh of the crop noticeable before it came down with a loud slap. Squeezes further pulverise his aching nuts and his breath labored heavily from the agonizing treatment.

After three hits, Everett was about ready to pass out altogether. He lay weak and beaten, not able to put up any resistance against his father anymore. "There we go," Carl said as he released him. "Just needed to make sure my little boy was soft before I fit you."

Dazed and foggy, Everett rested himself uncomfortably on the wooden horse. Several times he was sure that he passed out for at least a few seconds before coming back to his senses. All the while he felt his father fondling his sheath and balls. Metal encased around his sheath completely capped around the tip and opening. A ring was placed around his tender ball sack and a groan left his muzzle feeling them adjusted and pulled. There were some clinks and his father clapped for himself as he surveyed his work.

"Honestly, it wasn't really doing you any favors anyways," he said as he stroked his son's mane. "You've got so many better aspects about yourself, but let's work the worst ones out first, alright?"

Carl walked away again and Everett wiggled around not sure what his father had just done. He felt something around his sheath, something cold and metallic. It didn't hurt nor did it feel uncomfortable. In fact, he welcomed the cool metal against his sack, soothing his bruised balls. As always, he had almost no time to enjoy it before his father came back and wrapped his paw around his ankle.

"One last thing before I forget. What was that word you used?" His father asked flippantly.

Everett searched his mind, trying to picture what his dad might have been talking about. He hadn't been able to get a few words out since the whole ordeal had started and he didn't remember calling him anything else. Both the leather strap and his father kept him from moving his footpaw anywhere, but didn't have enough fight in him to tug free anyways. With the ring gag still in his maw, he couldn't even ask his dad for help to explain it to him.

Something thin and menacing ran across the pads of his feet, tickling him as it dragged across his sensitive sole. Everett squirmed as his father spoke again, "While you played your game. You said kill those...what was it again?"

The word flashed in his mind and he was only able to take a sharp inhale before the switch whipped his sole hard. Too out of breath and too broken to scream anymore, all Everett could do was grunt as five rapid fire strikes cut into his feet almost all at once. His eyes hurt as he pressed them closed as hard as he could to endure the caning he received. It felt like his teeth were going to shatter in his muzzle gritting them together so hard. The pain was so much worse than anything that his father had done so far. His toes curled and his feet jerked around to no avail.

After the fifth strike, Everett was left practically choking on flem and spit as he hung his head defeatedly towards the ground. He didn't even have the energy to lift his ears let alone his head as his father continued, "If I ever, EVER, hear you even utter something that sounds similar to that word again--" he cut himself off to walk around and grab his other foot. All Everett could do was curl his toes once again as he got five more cracks of the switch on his footpaw. There was no doubt his father got blood and he wouldn't be able to run away even if he wasn't tied to the wooden horse. "I will leave you out on the street, you unworthy brat!" he finished by adding one more swat, this one catching him just below his toes.

Everett couldn't even open his eyes as he felt the cane underneath his chin. Copper filled his senses, blood still hanging off of the switch as it guided his muzzle upward. His father lifted him until he could hold his head up again. Years of online gaming taught him it was a pretty good insult to use to rile up his opponents if he shouted it loud enough in the mic. Ten seconds with his father assured him that he'd never even think of it again, but his father pressed, "Understood?"

All the young maned wolf could do was nod his head up and down once before all the energy left his body. Dropping his head to the floor, he gave up completely and let himself hang against the bench. It'd be no good trying to cry, beg, or whimper anymore. Slipping in and out, he heard his father leave the basement altogether to let him think about all that he'd done. Pity for himself is all that encompassed him, not just because of the pain and humiliation, but also the worthlessness that his father made him feel. He was about ready to pass out completely when something covered his head.

Opening his eyes again revealed blackness for a moment until green text floated in front of his eyes: Initiating Seethersoft Virtualwear. Welcome.