# Rough

Author: Gerrark
Tags: Ass Worship, Dog, Feral, Humiliation, Hypnosis, Male, Musk, Tanuki, brainwashing

No good deed goes unpunished, and nothing illustrates that better than this story I did for anothermeekone (check their FA, bsky, etc) as a part of a trade. When Meek takes home a dog to give it a new home, he becomes the bitch of the house, not the other way around.  
  
Involves a feral intelligent animals, hypnosis, ass eating, general degradation and etc. Enjoy!

“We are no longer masters of this planet, of our homes, or even of ourselves! Our  
imaginations have been taken hostage, our drive to improve have been squashed  
entirely; there’s nothing inside of us anymore! Don’t you see? They’ve taken everything.  
We have no power, no soul--I don’t think anyone even has a proper sense of  
self-preservation anymore! We’re slaves, begging for their boots on our tongue, their  
collars around our necks! No, we’re lower than that, we’ve fallen lower than that! There  
are no men anymore, but dogs! We are dogs! Craven, submissive, obedient dogs! Dogs  
that are just begging to be brought to heel by the big government we elected! And the  
only way you can avoid begging for scraps is by checking out my new book, The X  
Factor, available now for-”  
\*Click\*  
“I think that’s about enough,” Meek said with a sigh. He hadn’t really been paying  
attention before all of that--the point of the radio for him was not so much the content on  
it, but having voices blasting in his ears to keep him that much more alert on this lonely  
country road at midnight. But all of that? That was too much. The tanuki could just as  
easily keep himself awake by speaking about what he saw as he drove home from his  
closing shift--he just preferred not to, on account of it drying out his mouth something  
fierce. Better than hearing that shit, though.  
“Fields, like always,” the tanuki said overly loudly, really forcing the action, as well  
as his awareness, “Plenty of trees, that burned down shack that’s never going to get  
taken care of, the creek bend, a box-ah, shit!”  
Meek was so distracted by the box he was looking at that he almost swerved off  
the side of the road, but that wasn’t why he brought his vehicle to a complete stop, or  
why he leapt out of it with a face full of fear and confusion. No, it was what he thought  
he saw in the box that made him stop, his suspicions confirmed the moment he jogged  
up to it--several piteous barks emerged from within, his snout shifting from shock to  
horror.  
“No way!” Meek moaned. Yes way, unfortunately. For the box was no mere box  
but a pet container, and one occupied by a very wet and very haggard-looking bulldog.  
Now that the tanuki was within line of sight he barked endlessly, biting at the bars of his  
cage and just generally going crazy in there.  
“It’s okay, it’s okay boy,” Meek said gently, his steps much more cautious as he  
approached the container. He had to be careful, because not only did he have no idea  
how this dog would react to his help, but the beast’s cage was perched pretty  
precariously against the rocks it had crashed against. One wrong move and the tanuki  
may have trouble finding his way out of the pitch black river himself, dog be damned. A  
very cautious approach.  
“Easy boy, I’ve got you,” the tanuki continued to whisper, taking his last few  
steps. He leaned slowly towards the container, just over the creek’s edge, while the  
sound of splashing water he could barely see gently rocked the poor canine’s prison.  
The dog had quieted somewhat but was still shivering dreadfully, clearly terrified. He  
wasn’t barking though, or moving too much--now was Meek’s chance. Mumbling  
something along the lines of “gotcha boy!” but much less intelligible, his hands shot out,  
and gripped… something. It was a flurry of limbs and rocking back-and-forth energy for  
a moment, and Meek’s right foot ended up dreadfully wet, but with a great grunt and a  
fall Meek and the dog were safe on the shore, with the pup still upright, at that. Flat on  
his back and gasping for breath, Meek turned towards the cage, the dog inside much  
more quiet, calm. If the tanuki didn’t know any better, he could swear the canine was  
smiling.  
“I would be too, after that,” Meek muttered, absentmindedly reaching out towards  
the cage. He realized his mistake far too late, but didn’t pay for it--when his fingers  
brushed against the metal bars the dog did not bark, or bite, or anything like that.  
Instead, the animal gingerly licked at Meek’s fingertips, the tanuki’s heart melting  
instantly.  
“Poor thing… I wonder what I’ll do with you. I mean, I can’t leave you here… I  
guess I’ll take you home for tonight.”  
The bulldog barked enthusiastically, his tail wagging so hard Meek could hear it  
hitting the inside of the cage walls. Shaking his head and smiling, Meek bent over to  
pick it all up but stopped, noticing some writing on the side of the carrier that he hadn’t  
before.  
“‘Bad dog’?” Meek wondered aloud, the bulldog getting very quiet once again. If  
Meek had been paying attention, he might have heard something that sounded quite  
similar to a sigh of relief once he shook his head and said “Man, some people are sick.  
Let’s go home, boy. Or girl? I dunno.”  
The dog responded with a deep bark, which the tanuki did not understand, but it  
still made him shiver for some reason. Blushing, Meek picked up the cage and carefully  
took it back to his car, putting it in the passenger seat. He could still swear the beast  
was smiling, and for the whole ride, too.  
\*\*\*  
By the time Meek finally got home that night he was exhausted, so much so that  
he almost hit the ground as he crossed the threshold into his house--normally he would  
have too, just to lay on the cool linoleum for a moment while he summoned the energy  
to make himself one more meal before bed. But that was for nights where he didn’t have  
a cage in one hand, and a big bag of dog food in the other. So instead, the tired tanuki  
gently placed the cage on the ground, dropped the food, and closed the door… before  
finally letting himself crash to the ground, right next to the cage. The dog tilted its head  
and stared at Meek, while the latter peeled his snout off of the (mostly) clean floor.  
“Alright… Moment of truth…” Meek muttered. He’d been telling himself the whole  
time between saving the dog and now that he’d be alright with whatever happened,  
because he was doing the right thing, and that’s what mattered--didn’t make the  
possibility of getting mauled any more attractive, though. Pre-wincing, Meek’s shaking  
hand finally found purchase on the cage’s lock, and after a few slip ups the lock went  
click and the front door swung open. Meek only realized he was closing his eyes and  
holding his breath once the dog started licking his face, which caused him to  
immediately gasp, and yelp, and flail a bit.  
“Ah oh! Oh, oh… hahah, hey, stop, that tickles!”  
Meek’s desperate hopes were not in vain, apparently. Not only was the bulldog  
not biting his face off, but the little brute was downright sweet--gently but unceasingly  
did the canine scour Meek’s face with affectionate licking, continuing to dog-kiss at the  
tanuki’s hands even when he pushed the little mongrel away. He didn’t immediately piss  
or shit either, something the tanuki was very afraid of. No, the only things he did once  
he was free was lick at Meek and walk around the house, sniffing like crazy.  
“I can’t believe someone tried to get rid of you,” Meek said, watching the dog  
waddle about, “Why would someone try to hurt such a good boy?”  
Meek was not just assuming, for he had actually been quite careful not to gender  
the dog in any particular way up until this point--now, though, oof. Truly no doubt as to  
how to refer to this beast anymore. Frankly Meek felt a little strange calling him “boy,”  
even. “Man” felt much more appropriate, considering what the bulldog was packing. The  
way he strutted about as well, so oddly confident… Meek shook his head and rolled his  
eyes at himself. He must have been pretty tired and pent-up if he was blushing just from  
looking at a handsome mutt.  
“I’ll feed you, and then I’ll whip up something for me. Sound good?” Meek said as  
he pushed himself up off the ground. The dog barked affirmatively, but did not turn back  
to look at him, continuing to strut about the house and sniff--for a moment Meek was  
vaguely reminded of an old ex he had, and he couldn’t exactly tell why. But the thought  
passed as quickly as it formed, and he made his way over to the kitchen.  
“It’ll be just you and me boy,” Meek said, grabbing a bowl and a pair of scissors  
from the drawer, “No one in this house but us. Used to be grandma’s.” The tanuki  
continued his expository mouthful as he prepared the dog’s dinner, talking about how he  
he’s lived alone for a few years now because living out in the middle of nowhere makes  
finding a roommate impossible, but it’s less about the money and more about how he’s  
wanted some company so he was actually a bit happy to have the dog here, etcetera  
and etcetera, until he was sliding an overfull bowl of dry dog kibble in front of his new  
guest.  
“Dinnertime, boy!”  
Meek was smiling very wide; the bulldog looked far less pleased, and even went  
so far as to snort in a manner Meek could only interpret as derisive. He looked at the  
bowl of food, and then Meek, and then back to the food, before turning away from both,  
his nose upturned.  
“Oh come on ma-boy,” Meek whined, sinking to his knees while the dog  
continued to waddle away, “I’m sorry if it’s not your favorite, but it’s good stuff! I know it  
is!” The mongrel kept walking until he got to the fridge, whereupon he sniffed a few  
times and then plopped his butt down--after a few seconds of Meek looking on in awe  
over the dog’s brazenness, the mutt finally looked back at him, his expression oddly  
expectant. The way his eyes were narrowing…  
“Smart dog,” Meek mumbled to himself, shaking his head, “But come on, boy,”  
Meek began again, already walking over to the fridge. He grabbed the door handle but  
then stopped himself, looking down at the beast with a truly pitiable look.  
“Are you sure? I promise, the TruNu Kibb-”  
“Rrruff!”  
The dog’s tone, his look, even his aura, somehow--there was no room for  
argument in any of it, something Meek could feel just as well as he could see. It was…  
intimidating, he couldn’t think of any other word for it. Not that he was afraid of a dog,  
that would be silly. Especially a dog so small, and who clearly wasn’t violent. Still,  
disappointing this mutt was simply not something that Meek wanted to do. Felt… wrong.  
This was a powerful beast, a handsome animal, and one who just dealt with a  
harrowing, life-or-death situation… of course Meek wanted to make sure this dog was  
well taken care of. A natural reaction.  
“Bark!”  
Meek jumped, looking back at the dog with a blush and an apologetic expression,  
already opening the refrigerator door before he started to speak.  
“Well I’m sure there’s something in here for you, huh? Let’s see… Can of  
chickpeas, old lo mein, tomorrow’s steak-”  
“Ruff!”  
“Wha?” Meek froze, his hand centimeters away from the tupperware of leftover  
sloppy joe mix he was just about to suggest. Looking back at the bulldog with rapidly  
mounting trepidation, he quickly grabbed the meat mix anyway and presented it to his  
canine guest.  
“This must be what you’re smelling, right boy?” Meek asked, though his tone  
sounded closer to a plea, “Lots of yummy meat here--that must be it, huh?” He popped  
off the top and all but shoved it into the unflinching face of his bulldog companion, who  
did nothing but stare back at him. No sniffing, no licking his chops. Just that  
unimpressed look. Meek could feel the sweat collecting in the armpits of his work shirt.  
“Come on,” the tanuki whimpered, sinking to his knees, “Please, the sloppy joe  
mix is good, I promise! And besides-” He leaned in close now, quite close to the mutt,  
his eyes as watery as his voice was warbly.  
“It’s my one big treat to myself every week! I love this steak, I live for it, I-”  
“Rrr, ruff!”  
Meek’s back suddenly straightened; right after, he gulped. He was sure what he  
heard was not words, and yet it was so much clearer than if it had been: that steak is  
mine. And no amount of begging, or half-hearted threats would change that fact, either;  
Meek knew it. The tanuki’s shoulders rose, only for them to droop down one more time,  
truly defeated. He placed the sloppy joe mix on a nearby countertop and then turned  
back to the fridge, sniffling as he removed the plastic wrap from the half-pound  
porterhouse. He could hardly look as he placed that beautiful slab of shining red meat  
down on the floor before the bulldog, and yet the moment the canine started chowing  
down he couldn’t look away. He ate with such ferocity, he was so hungry. Beautiful  
beast. Why was Meek so reluctant to give him his steak?  
“I’m sorry,” Meek muttered absentmindedly, the smile on his face growing as  
another snarfing grunt made its way out of the bulldog’s snout, “A dog like you really  
needs the protein.” The beast did not respond, continuing to chew and slobber and tear  
apart what little still remained of the meat, so Meek just used this opportunity to fill a  
hamburger bun with what remained of the sloppy joe mix, and sit down. On the floor,  
beside the dog. He didn’t even think about it, though it did seem strange once he was  
doing it. Well, he just wanted to be near his ma-dog, right? Make sure he didn’t need  
anything else, like water, pets, or a massage… normal dog stuff. Right?  
The tanuki tried to make sense of the many thoughts in his head, some very loud  
as opposed to others, while he munched away at his sandwich. Something was off  
here. But what, exactly? He knew there must be something, but he couldn’t put his  
finger on it. Like, why was he eating this sandwich? Right, that was weird, because-  
“Woof.”  
Meek froze, mouth agape. The bulldog was done with his meal, finally satisfied  
with the thorough licking he gave the kitchen floor, and was now strutting over. As soon  
as he got in front of Meek he rolled onto his back, and then turned to look at the tanuki  
expectantly. Meek’s hand was on his belly in a flash, and as soon as it was, they both  
sighed--it would have been genuinely hard for an onlooker to tell who was enjoying it  
more.  
“Right, it is weird,” Meek said, finally continuing his train of thought, “because I  
shouldn’t be eating when my little man needs his belly rubbed, huh?”  
“Woof.”  
“Ahheheheh,” Meek giggled--he would have curled his headfur around his  
fingertip if there was enough of it, the impulse was staggeringly powerful, “Yeah,  
exactly.”  
Meek’s sandwich lay on the floor, already forgotten, both hands dragging across  
this beautiful beast’s belly. For such a little dog, it truly was something to behold. An  
impressive paunch, but not too heavy, probably just heavy enough to really start to  
smother someone if it was on their face, not that he was thinking about that. His coarse  
fur was so handsome as well, so appropriate, softness wouldn’t work. And those thick  
claws, they looked like they used to be so sharp, so well manicured--something Meek  
would have to consider doing for the dog himself.  
“That’s-”  
“Rrruff.”  
“Heheh, nevermind.”  
The tanuki’s hands resumed their scritching, even reaching up to rub the  
bulldog’s neck a bit to help him swallow what remained of Meek’s sandwich. The beast  
ate every last crumb and then burped, a loud and terrible sound that was very smelly to  
boot, but all Meek could do was smile and sigh with hearts in his eyes as the canine  
licked the last of the meat grease off of the tips of the tanuki’s fingers.  
“Mmm, I think I’ll call you…”  
“Woof!”  
“Rex, right,” the tanuki said, his smile so wide now, “My man Rex.”  
Meek did not get to bed until very late that night--between rubbing Rex’s gut for  
so long that he couldn’t feel his legs anymore, cleaning the kitchen floor, and making  
himself a pitiful egg sandwich, the tanuki could barely keep his eyes open as he flopped  
onto bed. And he certainly didn’t have the energy to pushback on the dog already laying  
in bed beside him.  
“Just for tonight,” Meek mumbled, in a dream already as far as he knew, “But  
tomorrow…”  
“Woof.”  
“Tomorrow I’ll get you another pillow,” Meek said through the dog tongue on his  
face. He couldn’t help falling asleep with a smile. A big one.  
\*\*\*  
Meek was gone, sure, but there was no amount of “gone” enough for him to hear  
that and not snap out of it.  
“Get me a smoke, bitch.”  
The first thing he noticed was the smell. Dog. Everything had it, everywhere  
about it. The slobber, slicking various parts of his body into crusted cowlicks; the fur, all  
over everything everywhere at once; that ass, that absurdly powerful odor of dog ass.  
With how close the thing was to Meek’s face, there’s little wonder about its potency.  
There were many other canine musks to discern amongst the atmosphere, very  
shameful ones indeed, but thank goodness the ass one was so strong. Yes, thank  
goodness, he-Meek shook the smile off of his face, and that’s when he realized he was  
in the middle of kneeling in front of the couch and rubbing the bulldog’s back paws.  
That’s also when he finally saw the state of his house.  
It was never the cleanest, or most decorated home. A few fun posters on the  
walls, some secondhand but well-kept-enough furniture, several toys here and there  
from various games that helped splash color across the ancient country cottage, a  
mostly dusted breadth of surfaces… a respectable enough homestead, especiall for a  
guy like Meek… and yet the changes that the last week had wrought were nothing short  
of remarkable--in such a short time his home was nothing less than annihilated. Almost  
every piece of furniture looked chewed on, including all the door frames, even the fridge  
handle. Anything comfortable enough to sit on was clearly pissed on, maybe recently.  
His many statues and models were scattered, demolished and destroyed, several  
beyond recognition. The scene only had a few seconds to flash before Meek’s eyes  
before the epiphany robbed him of his vision, but even that was enough to fill him with a  
staggering, if momentary, amount of suspicion: he could not to convince himself that at  
least some of the destruction wasn’t motivated by pettiness exclusively. Now he was  
hurt and horrified, but at least it didn’t last long. Because he just realized-  
-it’s been a week?  
Memories that felt like dreams all fought for his attention, furiously, instantly. In a  
show of what little self-preservation he had left they arranged themselves in a mostly  
linear fashion, which kept his brain from snapping like a twig under the sudden strain.  
Only just barely. The ones from the start of the week were little more than a blur at this  
point, but the broad strokes were still enough to horrify him.  
He didn’t remember exactly what happened when he woke up the next day, but  
he remembered sleeping in late, and so did Rex. Right, his nails, they needed  
trimming--he went out to get clippers, and clipping turned to washing, massaging, more,  
maybe? Rex on his mind all day at work, and then more pampering once he got home.  
Did he hit the store? For another steak? Or two, or three, or… a week’s worth. Of  
course. Expensive, but worth-ah, mm. Another blink, and the recalling continued.  
Steaks, more rubs, such deep ones that second night. Or the third? Every night.  
It’ll be every night. Deep, deep rubbing. Rubbing Rex’s thighs, marveling over how  
strong they are. Powerful man--he remembered feeling that exactly as he stared--they  
stretched, taut. Breathing felt taut for a moment, as his thumbs pulled down, firmly, he  
didn’t need to be so gentle with such a dog. Down to the paws, feeling Rex’s pads in his  
fingers. Squeezing them, feeling them squish ever so. A little dirty, but he was prepared,  
it would seem. He didn’t remember that step, but the rag was beside him, ready. He was  
cleaning Rex’s paws so delicately; so domestic. He knew he wasn’t wearing a frilly  
apron during all this, pretty sure, but his mind’s eye still felt it was appropriate. The tent  
at his front as he did the deed, apron or no, was accurate, however. He was very sure of  
that.  
It started so innocently, or at least close enough to the word for a horny and  
foolish tanuki to tell himself such a lie. Pampering the dog, feeding him a diet Meek  
himself could only dream of, letting him take more than half of the bed and all the  
pillows and most of the blanket, giving him kisses, giving him belly rubs, leg rubs, back  
rubs, head rubs, ass… Ass…  
Meek saw Rex’s ass plenty of times before that integral moment. Heck, he saw it  
as soon as the dog waddled out of the cage for the first time. But there was something  
different about that time, three, or maybe four, or five(?) days in, whenever it was. When  
he was in some sort of daze on the couch, smiling, sighing, horny, who can say why. He  
remembered tasting slobber in his mouth, maybe that had something to do with it. Didn’t  
matter. That ass was suddenly in front of him. Hind paws on his chest, while Rex’s  
forepaws were on his stomach. A heavy, but powerful thing. Firm, flexing, canine ass,  
with a hole that the tanuki could not pull his eyes away from. Meek stared at it, mouth  
agape, for so long; what felt like minutes, -not- seconds, and that wasn’t the mania  
talking. He lost himself in awe if the dog’s firm cheeks for too long, eons of moments  
that could have been the whole week actually or maybe he was just so horny he was  
losing his mind? Either way, Rex ended up having to take the initiative, and sat his  
powerful ass right down on the tanuki’s face. So sudden, suddenly dark, suddenly dank,  
squeezing. It was the best orgasm of Meek’s life.  
After that, everything fell away. Meek thought the memories from six days ago  
were hard to grasp? Every moment between that first face-sitting and this brief moment  
of lucidity was simply gone. So much ass kissing, literal and otherwise, he knew that,  
but the shape and scope of it were beyond his melted brain. Not that he needed to know  
it. What was important was that he was where he needed to be, where it felt natural.  
Serving his man. Making sure he was comfortable at all times, making sure to-  
“Get me a smoke, bitch,” Rex snarled, whipping his head back so he could flash  
the tanuki his fangs, “Don’t make me say it again.”  
Meek once again snapped out of his euphoria, because even with the immense  
gravity of bulldog paws and ass constantly pulling his gaze, his train of thought, his  
boner, everything towards it, those words out of that mouth were still too much to pass  
by him without cause for pause. This dog… can talk?  
“Jeez, did I make ya stupider than I thought I did?” said a voice that had to be  
coming out of Rex’s mouth, as unbelievable as it seemed, “Hey, bitch, wake the fuck  
up!” The only daze gripping Meek now was one of mounting shock, not of brainwashed  
bliss, but Rex either couldn’t tell the difference or didn’t car, because he had already  
turned around to give Meek a clumsy slap.  
“Ah, buh?”  
“Wake up, damn,” Rex barked, his face hardly a whisker away from Meek, “It’s  
been too long since I had a puff. Get the fuckin’ box on the counter you bought me the  
other day, remember? Goddamn, bitches these days…” He growled a few more sexistly  
flavored insults in Meek’s direction while he paced a few circles and then plopped down  
onto his side. He stretched, no longer looking in Meek’s direction--the cockiness was  
stunning, and had Meek in the grip of something like reverence for a split second--no!  
He had to, he must… well fuck, he had to do something!  
“How… why?” Meek asked, rising to his feet and looking around the disaster that  
was once his home. Rex lifted his head, snorting when he realized what must have  
happened, and yet moved with no urgency at all as he rolled onto his feet. No fear, no  
nervousness, not even a single second of an expression that implied he was  
second-guessing things, despite the very loud hysteria that the tanuki was working  
himself into. Because even once Meek started going on about calling some friends,  
calling the police, getting the hell out of here, joining a monastery and so on, all Rex  
could be bothered to do was shake himself and then let out an authoritative bark.  
And that’s all it took.  
“Yessir!” Meek yelped as he snapped to attention, blinking rapidly once he  
realized what just happened. Why did he… and it felt so good. His cock was throbbing  
so much, and every time it did he had to swallow a groan. What was he just doing? He  
was, was…  
“On your knees,” Rex grunted, and Meek’s legs almost collapsed out from under  
him, bringing him muzzle-to-muzzle with the bulldog once more. He started to say  
something, but gulped it down once the canine’s gaze locked onto his own.  
“Seems like someone forgot her place,” Rex growled, slobber dripping down from  
his jowls, “You’re a bitch.”  
The word hit Meek like a slap to the face. Days of service to a dog master  
echoed about in that almost empty head of his, while something about that canine gaze  
drilled directly into his brain. Photographic flashes of him fondling paws, kissing Rex’s  
belly, licking his ass while yanking on his knot--Stop thinking about it stop stop!--flared  
up every time he tried to remember how fucked up this all was, those anxieties never  
finding enough of a foothold to wipe the widening smile off of his face. Rex’s growling, it  
had such a tone, this bass to it. As Meek’s brain tried to desperately fight the tide of  
overwhelming confidence pouring from the bulldog’s eyes his body shuddered under the  
weight of his words. Not just his words, actually. Every grunt, every snort, every growl  
and every bark… every noise Rex made caused some part of Meek’s hips to twitch,  
some digit to curl. He was already rapidly losing and he knew it and kept fighting but  
some part of him knew it was already too late. And that part was making his head slowly  
move up and down along with the dog’s.  
“My bitch. My maid, my cushion. Say it.”  
“B…buh-”  
Meek’s lips started to move on their own, but what little remained of the tanuki’s  
sanity fought them every step of the way. Somewhere in his addled mind he knew the  
danger of letting himself say it--of admitting this is his place, belonging to this dog, in the  
bliss of servitude. That all he needed to do was let himself admit it, and that fog of  
obedience would descend upon him again for what would likely be the last time, turning  
him into what it was natural for him to be. All he needed to do was let himself say it, and  
he’d be free, free to be shackled by this dog, like he truly--no!  
“I… I cuh, w-w-w-”  
While Meek fought for his life, Rex just sighed and grumbled something about  
bitches and their lack of respect these days. With Meek still staring straight ahead and  
mumbling as if he was speaking in tongues, the bulldog pulled himself out of his sitting  
position, turned around, and pointed his ass right at the tanuki. Meek stared right past it,  
as he was doing with everything at the moment. Not for long.  
\*CLAP\*  
The sound of the bulldog clapping his cheeks in tanuki’s direction made Meek’s  
ears, fur, tail, and dick all stand up straight, his eyes suddenly and truly focusing on the  
feast before him. The part of him that was fighting so desperately for control was now  
fighting just to keep from drowning in dog ass, stink.  
“Admit it, and you can ta-”  
“I’m your bitch!” the bitch shouted, drool dripping from his pink chin. He dove in  
immediately, and without express permission at that, but Rex let it go (this time, at  
least). Because damn, this bitch was going nuts on his ass, swirling that fat tongue of  
his so fuckin’ sloppy around his flexing dog hole. Hefting his nuts, and just like Rex  
liked, juuuust enough for his cushion to appreciate the weight. Kissing his cheeks too,  
this pink bitch loved that for some reason--not that Rex was complaining. Really  
puckering up and smooching on his powerful cheeks, really letting that ass of his crash  
across his snout. All that, combined with the constantly muffled “Thank yous!” that were  
motorboating his asshole in a strangely pleasant way, all of that was just about perfect.  
The only thing that could make it better, in fact, would be-  
“A smoke, bitch.”  
“Right!” his pink bitch yelped after going ramrod straight. With no difficulty  
whatsoever, because it was an order from Rex, his Master, Meek rushed over to the  
counter, and then rushed back. He set the prepared cigar into the bulldog’s lower jaw,  
which immediately clamped shut. Rex raised his brow and the lighter appeared, full of  
flame to light the tip. As soon as it started blazing he snorted, a thick gray cloud right in  
the bitch’s face. The pink fool was gone before he did that, but now? He wasn’t coming  
back--that smile couldn’t wait to plant itself right back in between his cheeks. Speaking  
of.  
“Back to it, cushion,” Rex grunted, each word swirling with smoke around his  
bitch’s head, “And don’t be lazy about it. Touch my fuckin’ dick a little, shit.”  
Not even a microsecond after Rex got into position was his bitch nose deep in his  
ass, sucking and slurping and slobbering so much Rex almost dropped the cigar while  
he moaned--his tail kept wapping the pink cushion’s forehead. Right back to where they  
were, but now with a cigar, and with his bitch giving his throbbing rocket the attention it  
deserved. Only a minute or so more of worship was needed before Rex howled out a  
cloud of pleasure, making a mess that could never be cleaned out of the couch,  
clenching his ass so hard around his bitch’s face that he was starting to convulse from  
lack of oxygen. Grunting, cumming, more squeezing, fuck, fuck-  
“Fffffuck,” Rex groaned, orgasm finally tapering off. It took him awhile to get his  
head back on straight, but once he did he ashed his cigar (that poor couch cushion) and  
turned back around to look at the slumped over bitch on the couch behind him. Out cold  
and still smiling, even with a slack jaw.  
“Hey, bitch, wake up!” Rex barked, spitting into the tanuki’s mouth. His bitch woke  
with a coughing fit, sputtering and spasming for a good thirty seconds against the couch  
before catching his breath and turning towards his Master. There was no intelligence in  
that gaze of his, none whatsoever--never would be again. Rex couldn’t help but smirk at  
his handiwork.  
“Clean up this mess,” Rex commanded, waddling to the slightly cleaner end of  
the couch, “And get me an ashtray. And a beer.”  
The pink cushion jumped to his feet, gave a quick salute (weird, but the bulldog  
could still appreciate it), and got to it, completely oblivious to the trail of cum leaking  
down from his pant leg. Rex chuckled to himself--couldn’t remember the last time a  
bitch came just from getting smothered by him. This one was a keeper.  
“Hey, bitch! Pay attention, you’re makin’ a mess all over the damn house.”  
“Yessir!”  
\*\*\*  
Rex’s terrible laughs came to an abrupt halt; barks so loud and brazen that every  
so often his pink bitch had to answer the door to drive off the neighbors at the other end  
of the street. He opened his eyes and turned to his pal Charles, the border collie to his  
left, and said:  
“What was that?”  
Charles started to answer, and then instead let out a sudden bark, before lifting  
up his hind leg and kicking the pink cushion away from his ass. Despite the swelling that  
would absolutely lead to a black eye later, Rex’s bitch jumped to his feet with a bow, and  
a penitent tone.  
“Sorry sir! Can I get anyone anything?”  
“Beer.”  
“Whiskey.”  
“‘Nother smoke.”  
“Clean my toes, faggot.”  
“Yessirs!”  
“Anyways,” Charles said, shaking himself out from nose to tail before taking a lap  
of his martini, “I asked you your errand boy’s name. Couldn’t have been ‘bitch’ his whole  
life, right?”  
“I dunno,” laughed Humphrey the great dane, bumping Rex from the right, “He  
sure fuckin’ acts like it!” Another bunch of barking laughs filled the room, as well as a  
“Got that right!” from some poodle humping a pillow on the couch. This was right as the  
bitch came back with their drinks, Humphrey ordering the whiskey. Before the tanuki  
could slip away, the dane’s huge paw pressed down on his shoulder.  
“Stop,” Humphrey growled.  
“Yessir?” the cushion said with enthusiasm, coming to an immediate halt, “What  
can-mmf!”  
The huge canine forced himself upon the tanuki, threatening to envelop the small  
pink thing’s snout entirely in his own as he licked the top of the little guy’s mouth. He  
gasped, but he did not struggle, not even as the dane’s claws started to really dig into  
his shoulder. Or when the aforementioned poodle waltzed over to join in on the fun, and  
just started biting the bitch’s leg. It might have gone on a lot longer, but Rex was  
impatient as he was demanding.  
“Ease the fuck up Humph, I want my beer sometime today.”  
“Fine,” Humphrey said around the cushion’s face, and then he pulled off and said  
it again, “Fine.” The shivering, gasping tanuki immediately picked the drink tray back up  
and went about his business, poodle still attached to his leg--the little fucker wouldn’t be  
satisfied until his bite mark was as visible as the many others peppered across the  
bitch’s body.  
“What was its name…” Rex mumbled to himself as the bitch set down his beer,  
the dog taking a few quick laps, “Mmm. Don’t remember.”  
“Hahah, really?”  
“Naw,” Rex said with a shrug, before dipping his head back down and grabbing  
the cigar with his mouth from the ashtray, “Hey, bitch! What was your name?”  
By this point the bitch had its mouth wrapped around Charles’s paws, and was  
quite busy moaning around them and lapping at his toes, but as soon as the question  
reached his ears, he stopped. His name? Name? The submissive, obedient part of the  
pink beast, the only part there was left, desperately searched the archives of his brain.  
Looking as far into the past as he could, thinking so hard it was making his forehead  
hurt. But no matter how hard he thought, no matter how much he struggled, it was  
impossible. There was nothing there. Nothing but the present, even trying to  
conceptualize otherwise was impossible. With his voice downright dripping shame over  
the failure, the bitch said (from under the table, and still partially muffled by dog feet):  
“I’m sorry Master… I dunno.”  
Relief filled the bitch’s head as laughter rang out all around him. He didn’t really  
understand what was going on, but it sure was a load off to hear that Master and his  
friends weren’t mad at him. Even more of one when the next command finally came,  
amidst all the snickering.  
“Clean my ass, bitch.”  
“Hey, mine too!”  
“Don’t forget me, fag.”  
Stars filled the cushion’s eyes and didn’t leave until they were pressed up against  
a huge dog’s backside. When did they all get lined up like this? Did he lose himself  
again to some of Master’s smoke, or growls? Everyone seemed happy, all their tails  
were wagging; that was the only important part. Wagging, making their asses shake  
hypnotically in front of him, his body swaying along. Licking at an ass until a different  
dog barked or the one he was currently servicing gave him a warning nip. Falling into  
the flow of perfect subservience as he swirled his slick tongue along each asshole in  
turn, taking their ash, their spit, their abuse, their ass sweat, everything. Taking it all and  
smiling like a bitch. All he ever was.

Source: https://sofurry.com/s/m0KKVMze