FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

[b][u][center]Therapy for the Pup[/center][/u][/b]

[b][u][center]Part 1[/center][/u][/b]

[b][u][center]For Blaze_the_Pup[/center][/u][/b]

[b][u][center]By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]

Patrol was either boring or so action-packed that Blaze barely noticed the passing of time. The last one had been the former, and he felt less than his usual self as he collapsed into his chair in the neighborhood super-bar. It was called that, not because it was particularly good, but because it was the only place in the neighborhood that had a license to cater to the vigilantes and super-powered individuals on either side of the morality spectrum. It wasn’t one of the self-appointed neutral zones that he’d seen popping up – heroes could still arrest villains in the bar, after all – but it did have insurance, and that was the big thing.

Some of his friends were busy getting their third or fourth beers, but Blaze was quiet, leaning forward over the bar and tapping his fingers against the wooden surface. The barman had yet to come his way, but that was fine. He was thinking.

He’d only been a super-hero for a couple of months so far, but he was starting to notice a pattern. He would do good, as much good as he could, and for a while, he’d feel on top of the world. He’d feel like he was making a difference, making the streets safe, doing things for the good of everyone.

And then, slowly, he’d feel worse again. The little incidental stops that he made, the muggings that he prevented, the little things that he got in the way of before they got out of hand: it just didn’t feel like enough. The world was still just…irritatingly bad.

That pushed him to go further, to find things that were more dangerous. And why not? He was the Super Pup, he had the strength to take care of it, even if he was a human rather than one of the other, stronger species that lived in the city. Under his pup hood, in the red and black suit that he used to disguise and protect himself, he was just as good a fighter as anyone else that walked the pavement and concrete.

And yet…

And yet, he still felt stressed. More than stressed, he felt shaky, like he was slowly breaking down. His hand trembled over the bar to the point where he had to reach out and grab it, forcing it still so that it didn’t get worse.

But the barman saw it. The barman saw everything.

“You okay there, Super Pup?” the older, dark-haired man asked.

“Mmm,” Blaze nodded.

“Don’t sound it.”

“Gonna be.”

“You sure?”

“…”

“Hey, look. It’s not like supers don’t need help, too.”

Blaze chuffed beneath his mask. The idea of getting help when he was the one that was supposed to be giving it was ridiculous. He was a super. That meant that he gave the help, not that he needed it.

But the barman wasn’t wrong, either. He was slowly falling apart. He didn’t know why, but the stress was getting to him more than it should.

Shaking his head, he tried to look away, but the barman whistled. It hit just that perfect tone to make him whip his head back around like a good dog being called, and he groaned, rubbing the side of his head.

“Cheater.”

“It works, right?” Chuckling, the barman reached into his pocket, pulling out a business card. “Just give this guy a call.”

“Who’s this?”

“A therapist.”

“Pass.”

“Trust me. He knows what he’s doing. He’s fixed up three other heroes here, and I bet he can help you.”

Wordlessly, Blaze took the card. It had a single word on the front – Alex – and a number on the back. Not much, and it was right on the verge of being pretentious considering how little it said, but he had to admit, that made him feel better. It didn’t feel like someone bragging.

He tucked it into the pockets of his suit, nodding towards one of the bottles on the wall. The barman went to get it without a word, and the night passed as normal.

#

Blaze skipped patrol the next day. He arranged a substitute, of course, not wanting to leave his friends high and dry, but he did skip it. It was the first time in over a month that he hadn’t gone out on patrol, and his feet itched in the latex suit boots. He wanted to be out there, solving crimes, being the good pup that he was meant to be. It was…difficult to think of doing anything else, and he knew that meant that his stress levels were probably higher than they could sustainably remain.

But that didn’t mean that he was happy to be outside of the therapist’s office, either. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be helping people.

But…if he was going to help people, maybe he’d have to help himself, first. A good dog needed to be healthy and on top of his game if he was going to make life better, and he wasn’t on top of his game anymore.

Thankfully, this Alex had made it clear that they had time for as long a first session as Blaze needed, and he had made an appointment for noon. It was currently 11:55, and he tapped his fingers together nervously in the waiting room.

Was sitting here in costume a good idea? Should he have come in his normal clothes? Did he have any normal clothes that were suitable anymore? The latex suit worked, after all, and he was a hero, not a normal person, so he hadn’t paid attention to that laundry for a while. It hadn’t been needed.

But was it better here? Should he have left his red latex uniform with its black patches along the side at home? Should he have dressed in a way that didn’t leave him looking like he had a sheath down between his legs, rather than the humanoid stuff that he didn’t like looking at as much? Should he have taken off the hood and left that?

No, he told himself for the fourth time in the last five minutes. He was here to get help, because Blaze the Super Pup needed help. He was here for Blaze, so he would be Blaze. There was no need to be anything or anyone else.

The door to the therapist’s office opened, an interruption in the plain white walls all around him, and a soothing voice called out.

“Blaze?”

“Mmmph,” Blaze grunted.

“Come in.”

“Already?”

“It’s noon. Come along; let’s get started. That’s a good boy.”

He blushed slightly beneath the mask. Not many people talked to him like that. They saw the human beneath the costume more than the dog that he was trying to be, so this therapist had already earned a point by talking to him as he was meant to be. He got to his feet, the padded undersides of his boots putting a spring in his step as he walked through the door.

He expected to see a normal human being, but instead, he saw a man in a suit and a pup-hood, a purple one of all colors. He cocked his head to the side at the familiar bit of equipment, the slight tongue at the end of his own hood wobbling.

“Heh, something the matter, Mr. Pup?” the therapist asked.

“The…hood.”

“I thought you might like someone else on your level.”

“But…you’re wearing…a pup hood.”

“And?”

“…”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“No, it…it feels nice,” he said, sitting down. “I’m just not used to seeing someone else wearing one. Most people think it’s a perverted thing.”

“Ah, yes. The old fetish line.”

“Yeah…tell me about it,” Blaze said, shaking his head as he tried to get comfortable. It was surprisingly easy in the plush chair, his body all but sinking into it as he settled in place. “It took me a month to get them to look at me like a hero instead of some public pervert.”

“Yes, I’m sure. They’re not exactly understanding, are they?”

“Mmph. No.”

“But you do so much good work for them. You changed their minds, and that’s all that matters now.”

“Heh…well, thank you.”

It was nice to start with compliments, even if he was already on the clock. Or at least, he assumed he was. Alex – if this was Alex – hadn’t started a timer or anything.

He glanced around the room. The therapist’s office was surprisingly small and compact compared to the things that he had seen on TV. Oh, there were some that had been obviously meant for rich people, but this? This was small, almost more like the size of a prison cell than a place for someone to decompress and open up.

Oddly enough, that actually made it feel better. The wood-toned walls and the soft carpet, combined with the small space, almost made him feel like he was in some kind of kennel, and for a pup, that was a good thing.

He smiled behind the mask as he got comfortable, stretching out his legs slightly before he went a bit more limp. The purple-hooded man nodded.

“Now, let’s just introduce ourselves. My name is Alex, but you can call me whatever you want.”

“Glad to meet you, Alex. I’m Blaze.”

“Just Blaze?”

“Blaze the Super Pup,” he elaborated.

“Do you mind if I call you ‘Pup’?”

“…I’d like that, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all. This is all about helping you feel better, Pup. You’re here because you need someone to help bring you out of that stressful place in your life, and if it helps to be called ‘Pup’, I will do that.”

It was…surprisingly comforting to have someone say that. He didn’t know why; he had plenty of friends that were accepting of his super-identity, and they never talked down to him or mocked him while they were on the job together, but this was the first time that someone had actually gone out of their way to ask what made him feel better about things.

It was nice.

He leaned back a bit further into the comfy chair as Alex leaned forward. The other man was…oddly attractive in his own way. Blaze had already confirmed some time back that he was gay, that he liked other men, but it was rare to see people that stirred his interests so immediately. The pup hood helped, of course, but there was also his muscular body, the way that he was thick across the shoulders going into a slender build. And the suit? The suit made him feel like someone that could hold his leash.

Blaze blushed, and he was glad that the hood hid that particular color. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“So, um…how does this work?”

“Hmm?”

“These sessions. Do we just talk, or –”

“Yes, yes, we should cover that, shouldn’t we?” Alex chuckled, nodding. “Have you ever tried hypnosis, Blaze?”

“…Not really.”

“It’s a helpful tool, but it’s better done by someone that knows how to use it properly. In the wrong hands, it can really harm someone. And we don’t want to hurt such a good boy, do we?”

“…Am I a good boy?”

“You’re a very good boy. You’re here to take care of yourself, and that means that you’re a [i]very[/i] good boy indeed.”

Another chord struck, another moment of smiles. If he had a tail, he would have been wagging it hard right then. Alex leaned in a bit further, and he felt himself being pulled forward, leaning toward the therapist.

“What I’d like to do, if you’ll let me, is slowly pull you down into trance. Just a little experiment, something to see if you can do that. If you can, then we can start giving you treatment for all that stress you’re carrying.”

“How…how would that work? Make me cluck like a chicken until I feel better?”

“Heh, if I were to do something silly, I’d make you run around on all fours until you were exhausted, like a pup still growing up.”

Blaze couldn’t help but blush at the thought. It wasn’t the first time that someone had threatened to treat him so clearly like a dog, but it was the first time that it felt so good to hear. Was he falling for his therapist already?

“But no,” Alex said, shaking his head. “Just a few trigger words, something to help you feel…handled, like someone else is taking over the had stuff. It would make it feel like you have someone else to look out for you.”

“Someone…taking over the hard stuff.”

“Yes. Do you want that?”

“I…I’m willing to find out.”

“Good, good. Now…lean back. Get as comfortable as you can. You want to make sure that you won’t be startled out of this.”

It seemed so strange, so silly in a big way, but he decided to give it a try, at least. He leaned back, more aware of how plush the chair was than ever. It was almost like it was eating his hips, pulling back and keeping him good and secure. There was a sense of sinking into it, a soft warmth to the chair that made him feel like he was getting a heated seat warming massage as well as some therapy.

As he wiggled in place, Alex leaned in. There was a strange sheen in his eyes as he started talking, but Blaze made himself look, anyway. This was probably just part of the therapy session.

“That’s a good boy. You feel so comfortable, don’t you? So safe, so comfortable in that chair. Sinking into it, feeling it buoy up around you to support you and comfort you. It’s so easy to settle in, to feel it caressing you from all sides.”

“Mm…”

“Just focus on that feeling. Focus on that warm, safe, happy feeling of the chair holding you up. Focus on that while my words slip into your ears. Focus on that happy, safe, supportive feeling of the chair, and let my words start to feel like that.”

“Mmm…”

It wasn’t that hard. In fact, it was downright easy to hold onto that feeling and thought. Just let the words wash over him. Let it all become something warm, gentle, supportive. The words were coming just as he settled in, just as he got comfortable. That meant that they were part of it.

And that soft glow.

That glow was the big thing, something that made it hard to look away. He wanted to keep looking, keep listening. That glow…it was fascinating, and he couldn’t bring himself to look away from that purple hood.

“That’s it. Just relax. Relax and settle. Relax and go limp. Relax and listen. Doesn’t it feel so good to relax and listen?”

Blaze nodded, his head moving slow. It felt…heavy. Heavy and relaxed.

“When you hear my voice, it becomes so easy to just relax and listen. My voice is so soft, so safe, so supportive.”

Safe.

Supportive.

“When you hear my voice, it becomes so easy to just relax and listen. To feel safe. To feel supported.”

Safe.

Supported.

“You want to listen to my voice.”

“I want…to listen…to your voice…”

“That’s a good boy.”

“Mmmph…”

“That’s a good, good boy. Keep listening, keep relaxing. Slowly falling deeper into the chair, deeper into my words. It’s so much easier to keep listening. And why would you want to stop? It’s so much nicer to be a good boy and listen.”

“Be a good boy…and listen…”

“That’s right. Be a good boy and listen. Be a good boy, and relax. And listen.”

Relax.

Listen.

“You’re a good boy, Blaze.”

“Good…boy…”

“And what do good boys do?”

It was surprisingly hard to think. As a matter of fact, it was nearly impossible for him to think in that moment, as if he was slowly falling asleep. And yet, at the same time, he felt more awake than ever. It was just…just doing things that felt hard. It was so easy to be awake, but so hard to do anything but listen. He groaned, trying to think, but he couldn’t look away like he usually did. Those eyes, those glowing eyes –

“What do good boys do?” Alex repeated.

“Good boys…obey…”

“That’s right. Good boy.”

He shivered, sliding further into the chair, feeling a low throb down below from the compliment. It went right to his groin, stirring his cock beneath the latex as he nodded his agreement.

“I’m a…good boy.”

“Yes. And good boys…”

“Relax…listen…obey…”

“That’s right. Say it again.”

“Relax. Listen. Obey.”

“Again.”

“Relax. Listen. Obey.”

“Good boy.”

Another shiver, another happy little throb down below to remind him of his reward. He moaned slightly, huffing quietly beneath his hood as he embraced the words. He felt like…like he was finally getting something that he had always needed.

“Now, I’m going to count down from 10. When we get to 0, you will be completely relaxed. Completely open. Completely obedient. Do you understand? More and more relaxed. More and more of a good boy. More and more a good pup.”

“Understand…”

“Yes. Good boy. 10. Getting more and more relaxed. 9. Slowly sliding back in that chair. 8. Feeling my words coming up and holding you, supporting you. 7. Feeling yourself so happily listening…”

Blaze heard and responded to each number, feeling like he was floating out of the chair in some ways. It was only the soft leash of the words pulling him back, keeping him from disappearing into the nothingness that was the ceiling and the quiet that came when Alex wasn’t talking. This…this was his place. This was where a good dog was supposed to be, a good boy, a good pup.

This was what he was supposed to be.

“0. Good boy.”

“Mmmm…”

Blaze panted softly through his hood, his eyes rolled back. He was so happy, so comfortable, so soft and supported. Everything was safe. Everything was good in that moment, and he was as happy as he could be.

“Such a good boy. A good pup. Obedient, happy, relaxed. Aren’t you?”

“Yes…”

“Now, tell me.” Alex leaned in closer. “Are you stressed?”

“Yes…so stressed…”

“Even here, deep down?”

“Not…as much…but some.”

“And what is causing that stress?”

“Things…things being bad…not getting better…worried I’m doing it wrong.”

“Ah, you feel like you don’t have someone telling you what to do…”

That…wasn’t entirely right, but it was not wrong, either. Blaze slowly nodded.

“You need someone to hold your leash.”

“…Someone to hold my leash…”

“Someone to help you get where you need to go.”

“Where I need to go.”

“Good boy.”

Another soft moan, another little whimper. The crotch of his suit felt so tight then, so full and eager for attention. His legs spread without thinking about it, the bulge bouncing slightly in the latex as Alex patted his cheek.

“Be a good boy. Tell me what you need?”

“I need…”

What did he need? For the world to be better? Yes, but that didn’t make sense. He could do something about that, but he didn’t know what to do. He needed something, someone. He needed…

He needed…

“I need a master.”

“Well…we can talk about that, can’t we?” The purple pup hood almost seemed to glow. “A good hero, a good boy, and a good pup. Do you want a master now?”

“Yes…yes…please, yes…”

He’d never actually thought about it before now, but the idea of a master felt so good. Someone that took the pressure off his mind, someone that would keep him from worrying if he was doing the wrong thing. Someone that would keep him calling himself a good boy. That was what he needed.

That would make him feel right.

“Alright. I’ll be your master.”

Blaze had never been happier than that moment.

#

Days passed, and his patrols were getting better. Every third day, he arranged a substitute and went to see Alex again, and the various sessions that he went through helped him feel better about himself. He no longer worried about whether he was doing enough on the streets, and his master – a term that only came up when he was in trance, which he had found easier and easier to slip into with each passing session – gave him clear instructions that helped keep his anxiety at bay.

He was a good dog.

But was he good enough?

It was their fifth session, with him on all fours rather than in the chair, that he was able to voice the new anxieties to his master. Alex’s boots were on his back, new leather ones that he hadn’t seen before, with pads along the underside. He looked up at the tall, lean man, huffing to indicate that he wanted to talk. Alex chuckled, grinding one boot heel into the base of Blaze’s spine in a movement that was almost like a gentle pet.

“Speak.”

“Master…am I good enough?”

“You’re a good boy.”

“But…is that good enough?”

The master’s purple hood cocked to the side, and a moment later, the boots came off. Blaze turned, moving to sit and kneel rather than remain on all fours, though his hands came up as a good pup’s should. The master nodded, gesturing for him to continue.

“Master…I want to help people. I’m doing good, but…”

“But what?”

“I want to make the greater good…better.” Blaze looked down, shaking his head slowly. “What if I can’t do that?”

“Well…what is the greater good?”

Blinking, he lifted his head back up. He cocked his head to the side, the pup hood grinding slightly against his neck as he did so.

“Master?”

“What is the greater good, pup?”

“Well…it’s…it’s the best good. And I want to make the best good better.”

“Yes, but the best good for who?”

“I…I…”

It might have been the trance or it might have been something else, but it was very hard to think of an answer for that question. The greater good had always been the rallying cry of heroes, the thing that allowed them to do the big things, the great things that kept the bad people away. He wanted to be as good as that, to be the best super-pup that he could be, but…

But what did that mean?

He was panting, and not in a good way. Blaze was on the verge of shattering, shaking himself to bits when the master pushed down on his shoulders again, gently nudging him down to all fours so that he could be more pup, less person.

It felt good.

It made the shaky parts shut up.

#

Another day, another patrol. He was back at his apartment now, his lights off, his suit on, his body tired. He stared up at the ceiling, the pup hood feeling tighter and tighter these days, more and more compressed against his face. It wasn’t a bad feeling, but it was one more distraction in the list of things that he had to think about.

Blaze tapped his fingers against his chest as he thought about the things that lingered from the therapy visits. Every time he left, he felt good, but when he got back on the street, things felt…weird. He was still the super-pup, but it felt like something was missing, like he had another purpose besides solving crime.

Every time that he went back to therapy, he planned to talk about it, but every time, he felt like he left without actually resolving it. The good feelings were great, but he wondered if he was getting off-track.

His phone beeped, and he looked at it with a casual glance. More news popping in, this time about some sort of villain, and the record-length pursuit of the mystery man. Apparently, the villain was still at large with no signs of where he’d gone, and those that he had kidnapped were still in the recovery ward, showing no signs of shaking off the things that had been done to them.

He remembered seeing them when they’d been recovered. They were little more than bound toys when the police found them, abandoned by the one that had kidnapped them, treated to bondage and…and so much more. Some had been pinned on the ground, asses up in the air, still oozing with the seed of their kidnapper. The police had missed him by so little, and yet, he had still gotten away.

Blaze wondered if he’d feel like a proper super-pup if he found that bad guy. Nobody knew what the villain had done to make his captives so…obedient, but they were all sure that it had been illegal.

[i]Can I fix that?[/i]

He didn’t know. He wanted to try, but –

He groaned as he felt the latex around his crotch tightening again, his cock rising as it had been wont to do when he started to think about things. It made him think of other things that a pup could do, other services that he might offer to still be a good boy. Things with his mouth, his rump…

His collar…

He blushed as he thought of that last one, trying to put it out of his mind. He wanted to serve the greater good, and the greater good didn’t get served by him being a pervert pup for one person.

[i]But what if that person shared you with others?[/i]

That was a different thought, and one that struck a chord and more buttons than he wanted to admit. His face burned with lust and humiliation, and he turned away from the ceiling, and even from his wandering hand making its way to his crotch.

[i]I’m supposed to be a good boy. Good boys help people.[/i]

But did he help them enough as a super-hero? Or would he be better for a very different sort of job?

The idea of being someone’s leashed pup rather than a hero was…more than a little tempting. And he knew that he could be the best pup, someone that would take someone’s life into a much better place. It would be so easy to allow himself to be taken in, to just give up all responsibility for being a hero and just be the best pup that the world has ever seen.

[i]But the greater good…[/i]

He groaned as his hand found his bulge, groping it, stroking it, teasing it the more that he thought about what he could become. His cock knew what it wanted, and there was obviously something deep down inside that wanted to give in. He wanted it, [i]so[/i] bad. He wanted to be on a leash, wanted to –

He wanted –

He groaned, finally yanking his hand back from his cock, leaving it throbbing away in his suit. Rolling onto his side, Blaze pulled his arms across his chest. This was getting out of hand, and he needed some serious help to take care of it. If he didn’t, then he might just offer it all up to the first baddie that realized how compromised he was.

[i]I need…I need a quick session…[/i]

Just something. If he could talk about it with Alex, then he could make himself feel better about the whole thing. Once they got it out in the open, he would be able to figure out where he needed to go with it. Alex was awesome.

Alex was good.

“Alex is good…”

He breathed in, out, in, out, and closed his eyes. He would fix this tomorrow. One quick session should be more than enough to settle his mind on what the greater good was. At this point, he honestly didn’t care what the answer was anymore so long as he could get an actual answer. A person could hardly be expected to sort out their own future when it was this twisted and convoluted, so why would a pup be asked to do the same thing?

[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]

Summary: A pup-play hero ends up having a crisis of purpose, and a therapist is there to ‘help.’

Tags: M/solo, M/M, Pet Play, Human, Pup Hood, Supers, Villain, Mind Control, Hypnosis, Bulge, Latex, Masturbation, Teasing, Corruption, Pup Play, Giving In, Miniseries,