FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Good Dog

By Zatarra L. Vulpe

"Good dog."

Luke squirmed in bed. His voice was lost in his throat. He tried to grab his sheets but they kept slipping through his fingers.

"Good puppy."

Luke kept blinking, but the room stayed dark, his legs squirming as he felt something press down on the bed in front of him. He felt a hand pressing into his stomach and scratching toward his chest. He squirmed a little as the arm held him down, his legs splayed.

"That's my doggy, you're mine aren't you?"

Luke squirmed and felt warmth building in him. He looked up and wanted to say 'yes,' but all that came out was a little yip, as though from an animal.

"There we go, good girl."

Luke sat up, panting, his head spinning. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, glancing at the alarm clock. Three ante meridian. Luke made another mental note to stop shoveling grease laden junk food down his gullet before bed. His next thought was about that left over almost-every-topping-in-the-place-pizza in the fridge. He licked his lips.

He pushed himself up from the bed and lumbered into his living room. He fell to his couch and flicked on the TV. He spent a hundred on sat cable a month and all he seemed to watch was documentary shows, for 'education,' meaning wars. It wasn't even for the tanks or guys with guns. He just liked the narration. It had a nice cadence, a sort of sense of action and finality with every other sentence that held his interest easily. He could almost pace out how an episode of Arms and Armory would go just by the way the narrator's voice would light up with joy when he said ex-em-eight compact carbine or tee-eighty-you.

It wasn't him that night. It was a woman. She spoke at barely a whisper. Her voice didn't have the same impact, the same excitement when rounds would slam into a metal plate faster than sound. It just made him drowsy.

He flicked the channel. This time it was Historically Relevant Global. It was studying The Prince. Luke never read it, but he was fairly certain he knew what Machiavellian meant, and he supposed that was good enough, who has time to read old stuff like that anyway? He figured it was about being manipulative, the ins and outs of power above all else. He didn't think he needed a sixteenth century Italian to tell him that political power wasn't about telling the truth. And it had that same narrator, like exactly the same, speaking in the same voice too. Not unusual, the two channels were owned by the same company, he was sure, they swapped around contracts and shows whenever they needed to, or something, business stuff, network things. Her voice was a little clearer, but it still just kept putting him to sleep.

What was it about her voice? He wasn't even sure she was talking about Machiavelli anymore, the words kept blurring together into a soup of sonorous noises. He admitted it did feel really good, he was fairly relaxed. His finger still slipped to the channel button, almost of his own volition. Click.

Exploration Station. At least it wasn't the reality shows they've had lately. It was some kind of connection between human satisfaction and obedience. It made some sense to Luke, maybe not so much on a personal level, he was sure he was a free spirit. Maybe. Come to think of it, it did seem rather nice now that she'd mentioned it. Her voice was so soft, so gentle. He didn't really know what she was saying directly, but he could tell it was nice from the way she said it. On screen was a lot of imagery of collars and leashes, smiling faces. Luke's eyes were drooping shut. Click.

Wildlife Network. A program on dogs. Not any particular kind of dog, just dogs. Large dogs, small dogs, dogs between, male dogs, female dogs, heavy dogs and light dogs. Fur and wagging tails, extended tongues and sniffing noses. A light jingle of collar tags when they're trotting along, bouncing on four limbs and yipping. Dogs were good. Dogs like these things because they're fun. Good dog.

"Good dog. Not a thought in your head."

Luke's eyes were wide open, staring at the screen. His breathing slowed, but he wasn't moving at all.

"Not a care in the world. Empty and obedient. You like being obedient, don't you?"

Luke nodded

"Don't you want to be my good dog?"

Luke nodded.

"Feel your jaw relax, let your long tongue come out, you like to pant don't you doggy? You like to let your long tongue out don't you?"

Luke's jaw fell open. His tongue slipped out of his mouth. He was huffing into the room, gently, then faster, like he'd been running. His tongue had other ideas, sticking out a bit at first, but then seeming to stretch softly, slowly, pink, wet flesh flowing past his lips. He licked his chops and it flicked up over his nose for a moment, but then the tongue was past his chin. His saliva-laden organ is almost totally flat by the time she spoke up again.

"Good dog, yes you are. Feel your warm fur doggy, feel how soft it is."

Luke's skin prickled a little, but soon he felt so deliciously warm. He barely shifted on the couch, but felt thick hairs growing from his skin. He decided to slip lower onto the couch, practically to the floor. He saw his legs splayed in front of him. His feet were white, with black starting near his knees. He swore his toes looked strange, his nails looking a little long.

"Aww, how cute, you like to sit doggy? How about shake? Shake doggy!"

Luke held up his hand, feeling it flop at the end of his wrist. His fingers were pulled back, muscle and bone receding into bunching skin. His wrist grew tighter, his range of motion diminishing as his finger-tips swell, growing black, tough, a spot on his palm thickening. His thumb was pulled back, further, behind his wrist, shrinking, barely able to twitch. He tried to grab at his paw with the other, but they barely met, much less could the paw digits actually grip anything.

"Good doggy, look at your tail wagging, feel it brushing you?"

Luke could. It was bouncing against his back, curly, long, fanning against the bare fur on his back. His boxers were slipping down, off of hips that wouldn't hold them up anymore. He shifted and they drooped off, his tail free to slap the couch. He stretched a little, his front paws out in front of him, arms tightening and shoulders pulling in. He could feel the arches of his feet stretch while his thighs crunch inwards. He looked down between his front legs, watching his back paws splay out to support his still human torso.

"Look up here doggy."

His neck popped and shifted, stretching as muscles grew a little thicker along his spine and below his skull. He felt his head settle a little behind his shoulders, creating a nice slope for his back. His ears perked. They were still rising, pointy, nearly at the top of his head.

His eyes met hers. She was standing in the room. Luke found some parts of her hard to make out because she was framed by the static on the television and his colors were weird. He was sure there were others he should know about. He shook his head a little. Her hand came down between his ears, rustling his fur behind the neck. His mouth fell open and he panted.

"Good doggy, very good doggy, good girl."

His ears perked a little, but her hand felt so good. Luke felt weird, bouncy, his stomach drawing in, chest puffing out. He felt excited, warm. Her hand gently pushed him down, he rolled over. She started rubbing along his white chest, stuck out as it was, then over his tummy, which felt so lean and warm, then to his lower abs, which were soft and pinkish, and then...

He felt something warm. Hot. Something pulling. He whined.

"Now now, girl, it's okay. Hmm... I should really think of a name for you shouldn't I?"

Luke wasn't sure he knew what she was saying, but he twitched and whined a little more, wondering what was happening, why he felt so cool between his hind legs all the sudden.

"Hmm... Lucy? I think Lucy is a good name, don't you?"

The dog's head swam for a moment, the words seemed to run into her ears and somewhere else. She didn't understand, but the words sounded nice, soft, like Mistress wanted to pet. She kept saying a word, one that struck Lucy as important somehow.

"Here Lucy, time to head home. You wanna go home and meet Duke?"

Lucy bounced on her paws and followed Mistress, sniffing at her heels and delighting at what Mistress called her. She wanted to jump and run and bounce onto Mistress, but she didn't want to get too excited. Lucy wanted to be good for Mistress, she loved the way Mistress sounded when Mistress was happy.

"Good girl, Lucy.Good dog."

Mistress ran her hands along Lucy's neck, snapping something into place around her neck. Lucy felt a little tug from the collar, a gentle jingle jangling in her ears aside from her clicking claws. Mistress smiled and said pretty sounding things. Lucy was happy. Lucy was a good dog.