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Click-CLICK By Limewah Commission for BaxterTiger 18+

Tiger laid on his back, his four legs in the air. He was panting like mad - both from the heat and from the excitement. His stone-grey eyes sparkled as if they had their own light sources inside them - the clear, bright joy of being a thoughtless puppy.

His handler and his friends were crowded around him, making sure not to step on his frantically wagging tail. It was longer and more flexible than most dogs’ tails, but Tiger never really thought about why. ‘Why’ wasn’t usually in a doggy’s vocabulary. All they knew to do was follow instructions and play.

Right now, it was playtime!

Handler’s friends were sat all around him in the dark, damp room. He could feel their bare paws resting all over him too, each of them pushing down firmly in kneading motions; his soft belly, his firm chest, his wriggling thighs, his throbby jock-bulge. The pressure was keeping him in place. The only parts of him that could properly move were his twitching legs.

Tiger’s Handler got the best spot, of course, and the silky paw pads were squished right against Tiger’s neoprene puppy snout. Tiger yapped and whined and frantically tried to lick at the rolling toes whenever they got in range. He was so desperate for a taste that he even snapped at them a little bit - just to catch them between his teeth!

“Such a good puppy.” Handler said. “Puppy loves his rubbies.”

“Ohhhh yeah, he loves his rubbies, doesn’t he…” another voice came in. “Ooohhh whosagoodpuppy, it’s you, Tiger! It’s you!”

“Yeah he is~!” yet another voice piped up - Tiger didn’t know his name, he just knew they gave him really good scritches earlier on in the evening.

“Oh, the best dog…” Tiger heard another voice, felt the paws push against his throbbing bulge. It made him feel funny. He liked all the funny touches.

The tone and timbre of that babytalk made Tiger whimper and whine with happiness. So much energy was roiling through their energetic puppy body. His heart was racing, his tongue was lolling, his hind legs were kicking. He wanted to zoom around and lick every single one of them! But he was a good dog, he was very happy to be kept still and snug under a blanket of paws. As long as he had that everything was perfectly right with the world-

Something cold spilt across his chest. Something fizzy mixed with the herbal tang of gin hit his nostrils.

“Oh, shit sorry-”

“No no, it’s okay-”

Tiger was shocked to hear the words coming from his snout so suddenly. He didn’t know he was able to speak, dogs weren’t able to…

He became aware of the snugness of the pup hood around his body, and the paw-gloves around his handpaws and footpaws…

…his name wasn’t Tiger, he was a tiger, and his name was Baxter…

The toes slipped into his mouth. The pacifying texture and taste stunned Bax, stilled his thoughts before they could spool up. He remembered how he suckled on these toes while he listened to… what exactly? Something that made him feel…

A phone speaker held to his ear began to play a familiar, soothing sound. A babbling brook of soothing music, associated with the sound of his Handler’s voice and the pleasure it brought him…

There it was.

The sound enfolded Baxter. The conditioning slipped back in, filling that frightening gap in his mind. His throat purred a trance-rattle for just a moment, fading in and out like a distantly passing car.

Car. Doggies chased cars! He wanted to chase a car!

He yapped through those toes, slathering them with dog spit, feeling his snout tingle as it squished against his Handler’s ankle.

“There’s a good doggy, back down…” his Handler cooed.

Tiger went right back to suckling, his tail wagging once again while a towel rubbed his chest dry.

He wasn’t going to try and lick it off of himself - alcohol wasn’t good for doggies, after all!

Paws, on the other hand, were perfect. His teeth worried and nibbled on the soft toe-flesh, and it wiggled in his mouth while his tongue lapped happily and placidly.

Everything was right with the world again.

He’d already forgotten that scary moment where he thought he wasn’t a doggy named Tiger, when he thought he had thoughts.

But his Handler was going to make extra sure that his mind was clear.

*

Click-CLICK

*

The gunshot sound of the metal clicker pierced Baxter’s head, bringing his train of thought to a crashing halt. His brain buzzed with heady hyperfixation, but was otherwise exanimate, and receptive to whatever was to come next. He remained still on his back, feeling his Master’s paw pressed down on his chest.

“You’re a good dog, and your name is Tiger.” Handler’s paw moved up to scratch at Baxter’s throat. The dog had introduced himself as ‘Handler’ - Baxter wasn’t sure if it was his last name, or if it was just the name he chose for himself.

At that moment, it didn’t matter all that much.

“I’m a good dog, and my name is Tiger…” The toe pushed down against the vibrating vocal folds - not enough to stifle, but enough to make Baxter shiver.

The earbuds were nestled snugly into the sleepy cat’s ears underneath the hood, pouring the familiar meditative soundscape into his quiet mind.

By now, just hearing it was enough to make Baxter feel very receptive and relaxed, after all the cosy sessions he’d experienced with his friend. The noise cancellation was off, this time, and he could hear the rush of the outside world - not that there was much background noise save for Handler’s voice, and the huff of Baxter’s breath.

“Again, Tiger.”

“I’m a good dog, and my name is Tiger…”

The more Baxter repeated the mantra, the harder it seemed to articulate.

The toes rubbing against his throat weren’t helping.

“It feels better and better the more you affirm it, doesn’t it? It becomes harder to speak, because doggies don’t talk, they just bark, don’t they?”

“I’m a g…guh… good dog…”

Baxter knew they were right. It must have been why his tongue felt thicker and his lips felt more slack, even though he knew that the one currently putting him into trance was a dachshund, and yet he could speak…

“And…?”

“And my name… rrh…”

“Good, Tiger.”

“RARF!”

“Closer, yes, closer…” Handler began to speak quicker, his voice becoming a seemingly endless stream of words.

“You’ve almost got it, you’ve almost found your voice, and when you find that voice, you’ll find yourself at last, you’ll understand at last that you are a dog, that you’re a good dog and your name is Tiger, and when that happens you’ll feel deeper pleasure than you’ve ever felt before.”

The firm footpaw traveled up further to press into Baxter’s face. The dog’s toes drummed on Baxter’s lips, a claw easing them open and almost pushing inside. So tantalisingly close. It lit his brain on fire.

The tiger felt a rhotic groan come from his throat - the most dog-like sound he’d ever made, since he’d started down this conditioning path.

There was a moment of quiet.

Baxter felt his ears pricking up, listening, wondering why his Handler was so quiet.

“Rrrurh?” he repeated the sound, as if trying to ask a question, some part of him in that trance-fog still wondering what was going to come next…

Then, sudden darkness, firm pressure on his face, the comforting softness and push of his Handler’s sole against his nose “Rrrrrh!”

“There’s the sound we’re looking for, good dog. Tiger wants a reward, doesn’t he?”

Tiger resisted the urge to moan out actual words, to cry out ‘Yes, please, please Handler’. He just growl-barked into the sole, knowing that the reward was just about to come.

“When you hear this next sound, you’re going to go completely blank for me. You’re going to sit at attention, and you’re going to be perfectly receptive to what I have to say next. Ready to obey. Ready to be trained. Just as you’ve always craved, deep down… that’s what you want.”

Tiger barked, deep from the throat.

He’d found it.

“Good boy.”

*

Click-CLICK

*

“Ruff!”

“Not a bad start,” the dachshund said. Baxter was already, immediately too far gone to feel self-conscious, but it still was very much an ‘attempt’ at a bark, a very obvious attempt.

“You’ll learn in time.”

“Yes…” Baxter murmured.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Handler, sorry Handler,” he croaked.

“No apologies needed.” the dachshund’s voice was firm, commanding, almost parental. He had definitely earned his reputation.

Baxter was a little intimidated by that confidence. Something felt almost dangerous about Handler, about how easily he was able to put hooks into people’s minds. His ‘Kennel’ of pets was quite large, and the way they all talked about him had an almost cult-like quality to it.

Even his friend who’d introduced him had ‘warned’ him that things could get a little intense with this guy, to be mindful of his own boundaries and make sure he never went too far for comfort.

…They hadn’t exactly practiced what they preached, seeing as they were currently sitting in the corner, watching them like a loyal guard dog.

“Are you coming out of trance?” Handler’s voice had a twinge of patient disappointment.

“Yeah, a little…” Baxter felt a pang of nerves - and a bit of shame to go along with it. This was only their second meeting, but he could already envision just how intense a full-on trance with the dachshund could be.

Maybe he was bigging it up in his head a little too much…

“It’ll get easier with time,” Handler said. “We’re getting used to each other, and you’re doing such a good job so far.”

“Yeah…” Baxter lowered his head slightly.

“In fact… I think I’ve got an idea,” Handler said. “Socks, come!”

Handler clicked his tongue sharply.

Socks bounded over with a happy, low ruff-growl, nuzzling straight into Handler’s booted ankle as their whole body wriggled like gelatin.

The red panda’s striped tail was swishing back and forth, so fast it was making little gusts of wind - not unwelcome, considering how hot the room was. They wore a floppy dog mask, custom made to match the markings of the blank face beneath, and secured around their head with black velcro straps.

‘Socks’ wiggled and bounced with excitement, eyes devoid of anything except for pure hypnotised love.

Baxter wished he could see ‘Socks’ as a proper dog, but he wasn’t quite at that point. That would probably come when he had been conditioned enough… it couldn’t come too soon.

“Socks, sit!” Handler snapped his fingers sharply - very pointedly not using the clicker.

Socks immediately did so, their tail going still just as quickly.

“Socks… hypnotise.”

Baxter felt ‘Socks’ eyes on him. Blue eyes glistening in the dark holes of the puppy hood.

The dog approached Baxter. The tiger was about to protest, or demur, but those eyes…

There was no ‘real’ intelligence behind Leem’s eyes. But that familiar stiletto-pierce was there, the gaze that had made him so weak in the past. Baxter suddenly felt very still. He looked up at Handler, who merely smirked and inclined his head to look.

The tiger couldn’t resist. He was still trance-drunk from the last drop.

“Look into their eyes,” Handler said, firmly and soothingly. “You’ll see what you want to be, deep in them. You’ll learn just by staring, just how to empty your mind the right amount to turn yourself into the dog you want to be, the dog you know you are.”

He… didn’t know he wanted to be a dog, but it was a fun idea…

Those eyes…

Socks was right up close to Baxter now. Their paws draped over Baxter’s shoulders, their snout pressing to Baxter’s mask. Socks’ breaths were slow and even, and their head was perfectly still, totally quiet, and unblinking. Their blue eyes shone through the darkness of the pup mask’s eyeholes, piercingly icy.

Baxter just stared back into them, unsure, nervous, but feeling a familiar dazed fixation starting to settle over him. He felt like he could still look away. But staring felt familiar, and easy.

Socks’ paws pressed into his shoulders and pulled him closer. His head dipped forward, his snout down-turning.

He heard something in his earbuds - he’d forgotten he was even wearing them. A slow, soothing stream of music.

“Just listen, and relax, and stare into Socks’ eyes.” Handler said.

“See how empty their mind is? How clear their eyes are when there isn’t a single thought behind them? You want to be there too. You will be there too. It might take some time. But there’s no need to rush. You can just allow yourself to take in Socks’ eyes, and learn every lesson you need to learn in them.”

Baxter murmured softly. Socks’ eyes were pretty, sparkly, shiny, and he could feel his thoughts draining away, wondering if his own eyes would look just as shiny when his mind was gone, when he could finally be a doggy just like Socks was…

“Why don’t we try that command again,” Handler said, a dark-chocolate sneer in his voice.

“Try what…?” Baxter asked, his voice sounding like it came from the next hotel room over.

“Speak.”

*

Click-CLICK

*

“Sleep, down, deep, down, giving in to gravity and taking all that pressure off of your mind…”

Baxter felt his nerves float away as his head drooped down.

“Ohhh, that’s wonderful~” he heard his hypnotist coo. “No conditioning needed, you just sink right back into trance with one simple click of the clicker…”

“Uh-huh.” Baxter grunted, his chin almost at his chest, his shoulders slumped low.

“That’s exciting, isn’t it.”

“Yeah…” Baxter sighed.

“And back up up up for me please, taking as long as you need, big stretch…”

Baxter let out an almighty yawn-roar as he rolled his shoulders back and slumped down.

He looked at the red panda sitting across from him on the bed. Leem was grinning ear-to-ear, the way they usually did when they brought someone out of trance.

“Hi~” they said.

“H…hi.” Baxter couldn’t stop himself from giggling. “Yeah, that… that hits hard.”

“Well, since you’re already clicker-trained, the rest should be a snap.” the panda scooched off of the creaky bed, heading to a nearby closet. Baxter watched with interest, wondering if he was about to get dropped by some other hypnotic accessory.

When Leem returned, they were holding a neoprene pup hood - a shiny black one with heliotrope ears and snout.

“Oh, uh, no, I couldn’t,” Baxter said nervously. “Purple’s more your colour than mine,”

“Nah, don’t worry about that.” Leem said as they approached. “This is one I save for guests. And it’s clean, don’t worry.”

That was going to be Baxter’s next excuse - all the guards he’d put up to deny himself the chance to see what it was like…

“Just try it on. See how it feels.”

“All right…”

Baxter took it, staring into the cavern of the neckhole, with two little bits of light coming through the eyeholes. He took a breath(though not quite sure why) and pulled it over his head.

The snugness was expected. It made for a very tight hug around the tiger’s head, folding his ears in against his body and making him hear the rush of blood, faint but noticeable.

He was more conscious of his breathing, too. The neoprene’s chemical fug was noticeable.

Leem had an expectant look on their face, their grin widening.

Their blue eyes were piercing into Baxter’s in their usual shiver-inducing way.

“So?”

Baxter didn’t need much soul searching. He knew straight away how he felt.

“Yeah… yeah, I like it,” he said, the words jostled out of his mouth by a nervous titter.

“Good doggy~!”

That made Baxter squirm.

“I know someone who’s way better at dog training than me. He’s the one who actually picked out my puppy name.”

“Socks?”

“Yeah… he’s really good at figuring out the right name for his dogs. Like, it’s scary how good he is. I’ll introduce you!”

Scary. Why did that word only make this guy seem even more enticing?

He was already on a roll.

“I’d love that,” Baxter said, nervously. “But, uh…”

“Hm?”

“Can you… use the clicker again?”

Leem grinned. They lifted the little device into Baxter’s eyeline, letting it move back and forth, ensuring he could see their thumb resting on the little lever.

“Maybe in a little bit,” Leem said, removing it from Baxter’s sight.

“Awww, well fi-”

Baxter didn’t have time to notice the clicker at his ear before it -

*

Click-CLICK

*

At the sound of the clicker, Tiger barked and went blank.

So did everyone else in the room, with one obvious exception.

The other dogs fell in line and fell down around Tiger - they couldn’t exactly stand on two legs, could they?

Tiger couldn’t pay attention to Handler, though, as much as he knew he was supposed to.

There were four other dogs here! Even though they didn’t have doggy faces or doggy masks, he knew they were doggies like him! He wanted to play with them!

That was amazing! He was so happy!!!!

Tiger barked and bounced with delight, rolling onto his paws and batting and jostling with his friends. They all said hello to each other the only way they knew how - licking faces, sniffing all over their heads, and clambering over each other with their front paws with wide open mouths.

Tiger was over the moon!

He had so many friends to play with!!! He needed to play with all of them! He needed to leap and jump and growl and bounce and -

Click-CLICK

Another reminder. Tiger went blank and still and sat up straight, instantly at attention. The other four dogs did the same - sitting and looking up at Handler with docile, quiet stares.

The excitement sublimated into fixation. The stock-still dog was now focused on the only important thing in the room.

His Handler.

His Master.

Handler sat back, raising one of those soft feet. Tiger felt his paws twitch, felt instinct pull his snout forward, his instinctual desire to worship his Master’s body and go ablaze with endless pleasure… but he stood his ground. Some of the others were starting to shift, one of them about to lunge for Master’s paw -

“Wait.”

Tiger was expecting that command. He understood the pattern of commands - one followed the other. He didn’t need to be told to wait. But hearing Handler’s voice was wonderful.

“Wait.”

He heard a little whimper from one of the other dogs. He was quietly proud that he no longer whimpered when told to wait. He was the best-trained dog. He’d show them all.

“Tiger, come.”

He bounded forward and pushed his face right into the sole, practically headbutting it.

“Wait.”

The toes rested on his snout. So tantalisingly close again. He huffed, keeping his desire to lick at bay. He was so close. He started to drool through his tightly-closed mouth.

But he remained still.

The two big toes splayed and squeezed the tip of his snout. The desire was burning him up. His tongue was dying for a taste.

But he remained still.

The toeclaws slid down to trace his lips.

So achingly close.

But he remained still.

“Good boy. Lick.”

Tiger resisted the urge to moan and whine, even though the sensation of obedience was pure heaven. Obeying Handler was even more pleasurable than the texture of his feet, pushing against his face and lifting him back onto his hind legs with possessive pressure. He squirmed in the air, having some difficulty staying upright. He was steadied by the other dogs squishing in behind him, whining and barking for their turn.

“Quiet,” Handler said sharply, and the others quieted down obediently, even though they kept fidgeting in place.

Tiger was unperturbed. He was focused on his Master. On obeying him unquestioningly.

He bathed Handler’s feet with dog-kisses, showing the other dogs just how it was done. How to be rewarded. How good the reward of obedience felt.

Good dogs had to lead by example.

And he was a very, very good dog.