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Small Talk

I think I made a mistake today.

Maybe it was back when he spoke to me, and I replied. Maybe I should have left when he touched me, because when his cock was in me, when he smirked while I shivered and blushed at the sheer, swollen bulk of the thing inside me, I couldn't do anything at all. Maybe I should have just gone to the showers and pawed off and let my lust drain down the sink, but instead I crawled behind him to his car and something beat inside me, something gripped my chest and I didn't regret a thing.

So why am I here, locked in a cage in his basement?

I try to move some weight off my limbs, but there's no room. I'm stuck on my hands and knees inside a dog cage, and all I can do is lift an arm an inch or two off the ground and shift my legs back and forth. The thin bars press into my sides; and even with my calves squashed against my thighs and my nose stuck through the bars there's no room for me to move. My sides are starting to ache, and I try to pant through the gag and my head begins to swim.

The cramps started from the inside out, my gut twisting and aching first like a punch in the stomach, and it spreads to my shoulders and back, pulls my limbs shaking and taut. How long has it been so far? Time is distorted into nothing but a persistent throbbing from the silicone cock stuck inside me, knotted and bulging, buried so deep into my gut I wonder if it'll even come out.

It's even bigger than his cock.

I'm still thinking about him. I can't help it, with his scent still on me like this. The hood blocks out everything else. I can hear the electric whine of the power lines, catch the rush of the air conditioner pumping in the next room. But the hood makes me blind, and his mark is rubbed all over my muzzle and in my mouth and it's etching its way into my brain.

I want to cum so badly. My cock throbs and leaks, still locked away, trapped inside a metal cage bound around my balls. It's been like that all night, since I followed him home, and it'll be like that until he lets it out. And if he never wants to, if he wants to keep me locked up until every touch makes my cock dribble down the side of my leg, if he wants to keep me locked up here until I forget about everything else but the feeling of his cock and his fur against mine, I can't do anything to stop him, and all the thought does is make me shiver as my cock pulses against its bonds.

Every moment burns. At some point the pain fades to numbness, a dull acceptance of the wrenching pressure inside me, and then even the numbness is fading to an aching bone-deep inside me that makes me scream and sob silently into my gag. And with every breath I take in his scent from the boxers, taste the cum and piss still lingering on them and sinking into my mouth.

I move like I'm asleep, limbs shifting to take the pressure off for a half-second, more and more frantically as my body realizes it can't even do that, it can't do anything at all except hurt. My sphincter is stretched and useless, gaping obscenely across the girth of the shaft and the knot. Once in a while I still try to grip down and clench on the cock inside me like a good bitch, but I can't, I can't, my muscles aren't listening to me anymore and I wonder if he realizes what he's putting me through.

Make it stop. Make it stop. That's all I can think until I can't think at all and nothing's left except pain and lust and the strange, fierce pleasure that comes from feeling myself torn apart, and I'm reduced to drooling and whining through my piss-soaked gag and breathing in the fading musk of his cock on the inside of my hood, and I wonder again what I did wrong today to end up like this.

And after an eternity, I hear footsteps outside the door.

There are mumbled voices. I can't smell anything except his lust and his seed, can't see anything at all. So there are only voices, and their laughter, and I blush because they're talking about me, they have to be, and I guess I still do care about what other people think after all.

The door swings open and there's a burst of sound, the fall of heavy footsteps on the bare floor and the throaty growl of the bear, no longer muffled.

"Morning, puppy. Have a nice night?"

My fur is matted and sticky, dried cum staining my legs and ass, piss staining the rest of me, his scent smothering mine. There's drool pooled under my hands and dried on my chest, a steady stream of pre that drenched my belly and dripped down my cock and balls all over the floor of the cage. My body aches like a single bruise, muscles cold and stiff.

But at the sound of his voice I respond with a crescendo of squeaks and whimpers, rattle the cage until he laughs and reaches through the bars to stroke me.

"Good boy. Missing his master already."

There's nothing left except need. I don't care that he's the reason I'm stuck in this cage, the reason I can barely feel my body except for the red hot pulse of the toy locked inside me and the persistent ache of my bound cock and stretched balls. He can make it better, he can make it better somehow, and I moan into my gag and my tail sweeps back and forth and thumps against the metal bars.

"Is that him? I thought he'd be... different, the way you talked."

A new voice, dry and rough. Along with it comes a thicker smell, a sharp reptilian stink, and a moment later I hear the scrape of fabric against scales, and I forget it all when I hear his voice again.

"Hey. When's the last time you got someone to go back with you, huh?" I feel a claw touch against my rump and reach under my tail, a hand tug teasingly at the base of the toy. "Not easy to find someone into this stuff the way my new bitch is."

I'm not, I scream, I'm not, and it comes out as whines and howls, and no one would believe me even if they could understand me. The hand snaps back, dragging the toy with it, and I feel the knot push against my hole from the other side. No. Please, no. I start to thrash in the cage, scream as loudly as I can for him to stop, but I feel the bitter, bruising pain again and the knot pops out past my worn and aching hole, and I scream and shudder once more.

"Cute, isn't he?" The bear shoves the toy back in roughly. It's dry, after a night, and there's a white-hot flash and I black out for an instant before the pain finally registers and I scream so loud I almost deafen myself.

For my troubles, I get a scratch behind the ears. Two of them, another set of hands reaching up, rougher than the bear's, and then they stroke down the curve of my neck and rake over my chest.

"Maybe." A claw finds its way down my belly and flicks against the side of the chastity cage. "You locked him up already?"

His bass chuckle follows his arm all the way down to his paw, bouncing against the back of my head. "Already put away the key, too. Gonna be a while before I let this puppy out, even if he's a good boy. And you're going to be a very good boy, aren't you, puppy?" He changes his voice at the end, uses the little sing-song voice you use for pets and babies, and it makes me blush. I can't even speak to protest. All I can do is whine, whine, whine, and hope he'll understand what I'm trying to say.

He laughs again. "Is puppy tired already? Gonna be along week for you, then."

I would scream, if I thought it would do anything but encourage him. I should scream. I should fight, except that when I move the plug scrapes across my crushed prostate, pulls my taut and swollen muscles, and so when I hear the scrape of metal and the dog cage creak open all I do is wobble out, on all fours, gasp and pant as a massive, scaled hand strokes down the back of my neck.

"I must say, though. He is cute when he's in pain."

The hand turns rougher, claws leaving furrows in my fur and little lines in my skin. I stand there, quivering, legs splayed wide. Every nerve still burns, still sensitive and raw inside from the rest I never had, and it's getting harder and harder to concentrate on anything at all.

"I'm glad you think so."

Another hand reaches to touch me, a soft-furred finger and thumb around my balls, clenching ever so slightly, stretching them down and away to the base of my ruined hole, and there's a new pain, dull and fierce, a gut-deep ache that somehow manages to send another spurt of pre out from my cage. I whine, hopelessly, shiver and twitch, and feel his hot breath in my ear as he whispers.

"Because puppy's going to be in a lot of pain for us."

I don't know what pushes me over the edge. I don't want this. I know I don't want this. But the part of me that knows it is the same part that's been pushed and battered by the touch of him on my skin, the smell and taste of him lingering on my body, the choking, gasping need for relief from the plug taking over my body, and I don't know what I'm feeling anymore, I don't know if it's pain or fear or joy but I huff through my stained muzzle. I tense, as much as I can, before I realize I can't, my body too worn and tattered to take this new emotion, and slowly my hands slip beneath me and my elbows buckle and by the time my head hits the floor I'm already gone.

***

When I wake up I hear the sound of something frying on the stove and the television in the background. I'm lying down, on my back, pressed against something soft and warm and fuzzy. The bear's gut, the bear whose name I still don't know.

Everything still aches. My muscles are still sore, still bruised; only my tailhole feels better. Numb. I try to clench, try to flex and with a panicked whine I realize I can't feel it.

"Shh, shh."

A paw descends on my head, soft and warm. The weight of it pins me, calms me a little, but I still whine. I feel sick, helpless. I try to move and I barely manage a wriggle.

"You're okay, puppy, you're okay. Just relax." The bear shifts slightly, scratches the back of my head.

"We gave you a little something for the pain while you were out. Just because I want your hole stretched out doesn't mean I want to hurt you."

Another voice, sharper, colder. The other smell. Dragon, I think.

"Don't lie to the thing, Rowan. You want to hurt him. We both do."

"I mean, I don't want to damage him."

I feel the bear move beneath me, feel myself pushed to the side against another body, ridged and warm. The dragon's scales are softer than I thought they would be. It feels like warm leather against me, supple and soft.

I can hear heavy breathing from above, sloppy kisses. I'm trapped between them, bodies pressed firm against me, and as they kiss I feel a sharp pang inside.

A pair of arms rests on me, elbows digging in just sharp enough to hurt. I start to whine, but stop. What's the point? I'm trapped here, between them, for as long as they want to keep me. They let up soon enough anyway, the kiss breaking, and a paw pats me on the side.

"Up, pup. Breakfast time."

I'm not hungry, not at all, but I don't think I have a choice in the matter. He sets me carefully down, on my knees and elbows, and I stand there unsteadily on four limbs.

"You think I should take off the blindfold? Let him get a look around?"

"No. Not yet."

The dragon's scent is in front of me. I can feel his breath, sulfurous and hot on my face. "Let the helplessness sink in a bit more. After a few days, we'll see how the puppy toy is doing. If he's good, maybe we'll let him see. If he's not, maybe we'll take away something else."

There's a sharp pinch on my ear. I shiver.

"Heh. Alright then. You heard the man, pup. Just follow the sound of my voice."

I'm still, tired, still exhausted. I can barely think, let alone navigate. But I try anyway. Every step is leaden, heavy; my whole body writhes when I move, like a snake. Even through the relaxants, even through the numbness, I can feel my tailhole burn at every step.

And suddenly, I feel a sharp pain in my nose, and yelp. A wall.

"Heh. Over here, pup. We're at the table already. You better hurry if you want any breakfast."

I don't, really, but I don't know what will happen if I disobey, if I just give up here and collapse. Maybe they'll let me go. Maybe they'll hurt me until I move. Or maybe they'll just hurt me until I'm so broken I don't even try to escape the pain.

The thought of that sends a shiver down my spine, and my cock pulses in its cage.

No. Better to push through, and hope for a reward. Because even now, even exhausted and in pain, what I want most of all is for my cock to pulse and twitch, for a warm muzzle or hand or hole to stroke me, and I whimper and turn towards the sound of the voice, taking slow steps, pushing my muzzle forward to check. There is a chair here, a table there, a pile of clothing on the floor. The strongest scents are still the bear's, of piss, of cum, of his musk, still stuffed over my muzzle. Only a little bit of bacon, eggs pushes through, and I follow that until I smell the bear's foot, heavy and sour.

"Good boy. Breakfast time."

Two hands reach down and lift me up. I feel the muzzle being unbuckled, the gag removed, and I cough and wheeze when it's gone.

"W-water. Please, water."

The dragon snaps at me instantly. "No speaking, dog."

"C'mon now, Jay. He's new. Aren't you, puppy?"

A scratch under my chin, as I feel wet coldness at my mouth. Water. Real water this time, and I drink it in gulp after gulp after gulp, the taste and reek of piss finally being washed from my mouth.

"Besides, how's he going to get his breakfast with a muzzle that dry?"

He places me on the floor, kneeling. I can smell his cock in front of me, the monster that almost tore my throat apart.

Oh, no. No, no, no. Last night I could barely fit a third of it in my muzzle. I'm not sure what he thinks will happen now.

But what I think doesn't matter, what I want doesn't matter. All that matters is that the bear can make me do whatever he wants, the he owns me and controls me, and that thought sends another spurt of pre out my useless cock.

"Get to it, pup."

I give a hesitant lick. It's musky, bitter. Blind as I am, that's all I can tell, except that it feels just as large as before. I work on just the tip, just the first few inches, and even that makes my jaw creak and ache as I lick and worship the spire in front of me.

I hear them start to speak above me, and I blush. Right now, I'm nothing. A tool, used to service the bear. And I don't mind. I just go on licking, go on taking his scent and his pre inside of me, until the bear's dick hardens and pokes at the back of my throat and I pull back, coughing.

"None of that now, pup."

A paw reaches down, shoves my face forward until the tip of his cock as at my throat again.

I whimper. I can't breathe, can't move, can't see. He's pushing me down again, spreading me wide, and I just try to breathe, try to calm down so I don't choke to death.

A dry voice comments. "The dog seems like he's having some trouble."

I can hear the grin in the reply. "Don't worry. He'll lose that gag reflex soon enough."

My jaw feels like it's about to snap, my lips pressed tight against his member. Like a good little slut, I wrapped them around my teeth, and now I feel them press and cut into the back of my lips as he pushes still further down my gullet.

"You're not going to make him take the whole thing, are you?"

I try to whine, try to do anything, but all I can do is huff and breathe the bear's musk in as he slowly destroys my muzzle. My throat bulges, I can tell, even without seeing it. It swells and stretches around the bear's cock, around the thick spire that turns my mouth into a condom.

And finally, he stops.

"I think that's about as far as I can push it today. About a third. Not bad for a second try, pup. Maybe we can get it down in a couple months."

A couple months. A couple months. I think about the way I left, in a stranger's car, bound and plugged. Not a single other person knew where I was. Not a single person cared, anyway. If they kept me for the rest of my days, I would just vanish without a trace.

The cock slowly slides out of my mouth, and I finally take a breath. What have I gotten myself into? What have I-

I yelp. My muzzle is pushed down again, the bear's cock slams deep into my throat. His fingers tighten on the back of my head, pull and twist until I think the fur will be ripped from the roots, and then he pulls my head back off.

I shudder and cough, eyes watering and throat sore, and I start to speak.

"Ple-"

The bear slams my face down again, and again, and again. Over and over, he fucks me, takes from me what he wants relentlessly, and I feel tears start to run down my cheeks.

I can barely stand it. I'm dizzy, breathless. I try to time my breaths to the bear's thrusts, try to get what oxygen I can, but it's futile. My world is filled with musk, with dripping pre, with the tightness and warmth of the bear's grip around my skull. Each thrust makes me wince and try to cough, each thrust sends his cock a little deeper down my throat, and as he works up a rhythm my breath slips away.

I feel myself going again, my heart and my lungs and my pounding brain fading away.

And then finally, he cums, one last thrust aimed deep in my throat, one last push that sends wave after wave of seed bursting in me, and he holds me there, gasping and panting at the breakfast table over his food.

"Good pup. Good puppy."

His paw releases, the back of my head stinging, and he gives me a pat on the head.

"Hope you enjoyed your breakfast."

Only now do I realize I'm hungry after all. The bear's cum is thick, bitter and musky, and I find myself licking the tip of it and cleaning it without even noticing.

"Heh. Looks like pup's enjoying himself, huh?"

I moan. My own cock is still trapped, still helpless. Serving others is all I can do.

All I need to do.

I shiver. The bear pats me on the head again, nudges my body with a foot.

"Down, boy. On your back. Master needs a footrest."

A soft rustle from across the table, a scrape of a fork against a plate.

"Good idea. Shove him in the middle, I could use one too."

I lay down obediently, like the good dog I'm becoming. It's soothing, in a way. My muscles relax; even the plug hurts less.

Two sets of paws land on me. One of them, fuzzed and clawed, goes for my muzzle, shoves and toys with my head. The other is on my stomach, my groin. They both move, two sets of paws scratching against my skin, touching and stroking all along my still sore muscles.

The paws on my head press down, skin musky and soft, and I huff and breathe it in. The paws below push against the bulge in my stomach, press me against the toy in me and make me writhe and squirm. My skin feels strange and stretched, my insides just barely holding everything in. Every touch, every stroke makes me whimper, makes me feel so weak.

"Lick, pup."

My attention snaps back to the paws in my face, on my head. The scent is thick, and rich. Sweaty and strong. Maybe someone else would think they smell, but I'm only conscious of a floating headiness, a brainlessness. I'm only conscious of the smallness of the world around me, of the two using me, of my own weakness and submission.

Dimly, I'm aware they're talking again, but the words don't make sense. The only things that make sense are the paws in my face, the smell that captures my mind, the plug and the vast, aching stretch that the dragon's playing has begun to reawaken.

My breathing quickens. I moan and writhe again, drag my tongue across the bear's foot until I can taste nothing more than my own saliva. And when the dragon shifts his paw and presses down on my balls, I feel my cock start to spurt.

It's not an orgasm. Not even close. Just a weak, dribble of cum that pools at the base of my cock and runs down my groin. But for now, it's all I can have, just a faint echo of pleasure from my overstimulated prostate.

The bear continues, his paws firmly planted on my face and chest, toes curling and gripping to tease me, the sweat and musk of his foot rubbed all over my panting face. The dragon, too, doesn't stop his fondling, each motion of his foot on my stomach making be jerk and whimper as my body contorts around the massive toy lodged within me. My balls are almost an afterthought, held in place and squashed, pressure increasing each moment, while above me I hear snatches of conversation.

"So what were you planning to do with him for the day?" the dragon asks.

I whimper. Nothing good.

"Didn't think this far ahead, honestly. Maybe I'll just toss him back in the cage for now."

I shiver. After a night in there, I can't stand a day full of torment like that. I'll go insane, I'll break... and I realize that might be his goal in putting me there anyway.

I'm sweating, hard, moaning at the thought, senses still overwhelmed. Does it matter if they "break" me? I feel pretty broken already. I'm still here. I'm still alive.

"Gonna let him piss first, though. Bet he's bursting in there."

The paws move themselves off me, and I whine.

"Heh. Did puppy enjoy that? Don't worry, pup, we'll do it again this evening. Set you out in front of the TV."

I can imagine it. Lying at their feet like a good dog, owned and collared.

I owned a feral, when I was younger, played with it and took it for walks. He used to lie beside me when I did schoolwork, or played games with friends. He followed me around the house, from room to room. I always wondered what he thought, if he was bored. Or if he found something fulfilling that I couldn't understand.

Is that what I want? To lie at a master's feet?

"Up, pup."

Groaning, I roll over. It's difficult, as weak as I am now, the relaxants making me feel like I'm swimming through sludge. But eventually I rock myself over, push my limbs off the floor, and there's a click around my neck.

"This way."

There's a tug on my neck: a leash. I'm led forward, until I hear the faint sound of traffic. I'm at a door.

He's not going to take me outside, is he?

A creak. The door swings open, and I smell fresh air, new cut grass and soft rain.

"Out you go, pup."

I don't move, paralyzed at the threshold. What if someone sees me? What if someone recognizes me? Ridiculous, I know. I'm wearing a leather hood, and I don't live anywhere near here. Even if a friend or acquaintance sees me, all they'll know is that the bear owns a perverted wolf. But I stay still.

"Aw, what's the matter puppy? Don't want to pee?"

I swallow. My bladder is full, after a night and a half without relief. But I can't go out. I can't find the courage to face it.

So I whine. Beg, plead, over and over, a burst of noise that gets me a soft whack from the bear.

"Bad dog. Go outside, or you'll get punished."

I don't move. I just look up at him and whine. Punished? Whips, beatings. That's all I can imagine. I can take those. I don't move, don't budge an inch, just stay there trembling.

I hear a sigh. Hot breath fills my ear. The dragon.

"Let me rephrase that for him, dog. Maybe you'll be a bit more motivated this way."

I feel a sharp grip on my ear, and I'm pulled back. His voice is rich, and deep.

"If you don't go outside now, the first thing we do will be to throw you back in a cage for the rest of the weekend. If you do not want to relieve yourself, you will not get another chance, and you will be punished further if you soil the cage. You will not be fed, as we were planning to do at lunch. You will be watered, once or twice, as otherwise you would sustain serious injury. You might be played with, but that will be solely for our benefit, not yours. At the end of that, I will hurt you. I'm not sure how. I will probably whip you, which I don't think you've ever experienced, as shy as you seem now. I may use something more creative. The only thing I can guarantee is that by the end of it, you will wish you had passed out during it. And you will definitely wish you had done something as simple as go in the backyard to relieve yourself."

He leans in as I shudder, whispers in my ear. "And besides... Rowan will be disappointed in you if you don't."

I lick my lips, nervously. The backyard. Hopefully they have fencing.

I take a step outside the door. The breeze rushes over me, and a paw pats me on the back.

"Good boy. There are stairs now, pup, be careful."

Rowan will be disappointed in you. I don't want that, somehow. When he calls me a good boy some instinct, some primal sense of submission makes me feel warm inside, makes me calm and relaxed despite the pain I'm in.

I feel my way down the stairs, slowly, and when my legs hit grass I start to piss.

But I can't.

Moments pass. I feel a paw scratch me behind the ear.

"Whatsa matter, boy? We can't spend all day out here, or I'll be late for work."

I whimper, lift my leg to show I'm trying. Something in me is stuck, taut, and I can't piss.

"Oh. Heh. Looks like something's pinching a few tubes shut. Let me take care of that."

A paw grips the toy at my base, unhooks the straps keeping it in. I feel a titanic shifting, again, the knot pressed against my worn and numb hole. I scream. Even with the relaxants, it's just too big. My sphincter spasms, pulses wide, and when the toy is halfway out I piss, I can't help it. It rushes out from my bladder, splashes on the grass and over my knees, and I can feel my muscles pulse and push, confused at the absence of the object that's been ruining my insides for the last half a day.

"Mmm. Looks like your ass is coming along well. Guess I have a few minutes to kill..."

He lifts me up, when I'm done, and I know what will happen next. The bear rushes up the stairs, my weight barely a burden for him, and sits, still outside. There must be chairs on the porch.

I'm placed against his chest, warm and thick. The fur still comforts me, somehow, still makes me nuzzle against him.

And then he pushes me down, all two feet of bear cock in me in an instant.

I moan. There's a sharp, stinging stab, an unbearable ache inside me, around my hole. I twist and squirm in his grip, clench and shake around that thick slab, but all he does is lift me up again, and again.

Is this what my life will be like? Endless days, filled with rutting. My hole stretched and torn until the nerves sing and blaze and my ring is abused to uselessness. My body worn, bruised, and battered. Nothing more than a toy. My cock spurts again, betrays me. And soon enough, I feel my lust rising, his cock stretching and pushing against the little nub inside me, against the walls of my insides, the painful stretching a pleasure in itself. Soon enough I shudder and strain, my hands clenching and unclenching themselves uselessly in their mitts.

Endless days, filled with cock.

His cock. It's all that matters right now, that blissful pain of being so overstuffed and full. My back against his chest, held tight. I want to scream. I want to cry. My ass is raw and aching, overused, and I whimper when I think about what it will be like when he's done with me.

"Oh, fuck. You've definitely loosened up a bit, pup. Perfect."

I can feel tears form in the corner of my eyes. I can feel a heat, a tingling, visceral pleasure spread and radiate out from within me, my walls stretched to their limits over and over. I moan, I cry with the pleasure. Please, stop. Don't stop.

The only thing I know for sure is that what I want doesn't matter. I'm too weak to even shift the bear's grip. All I can do is let him use me like a cocksleeve.

The bear goes faster and faster, until I'm almost dizzy from it. I can feel a pressure building up within me, a dull ache behind my cock. Just a little more. Just a little more, and I'm sure I can cum from this. Each thrust from the bear pushes out a little bit more pre, a little bit more cum. Maybe a little more and he'll hit that magic spot inside, and I'll finally be able to cum and make the stupid things I've done worth it.

But no matter how he thrusts, no matter how full and stretched I feel, that tingling ache inside never pushes me over the edge.

A sharp pain screams through my shoulder. The bear's mating bite, and finally the last few thrusts are heavy, to the hilt, and he slams me down until his cock bulges out the front of my stomach and thick spurts of cum fill my bloated body.

"Ah, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You feel good, pup. I should have taken you home a long time ago."

He pats my stomach, brushes his arm over my chest. Another few drops of cum drip their way out from my cock.

We stay like that for almost a minute, his cock gradually softening inside me, and when it's done he simply lifts me up and pushes me back on the plug in one smooth motion.

"Heh. Spilled a few drops on my lap, boy. Lick them up."

He puts me on his knees again, and I suckle blindly at his fur, at his cock, and he takes the opportunity to rub it all over my face.

"Filthy little slut puppy. We'll have to give you a shower later."

I'm lead inside again, by the leash. I move, follow the bear until he stops.

"Stay."

Footsteps going away, then two sets returning.

"Okay, pup. I've got to work today, so you're gonna be watched over by Jay today."

The... dragon? I'm not sure how I feel about this. I barely know him.

Then again, I barely know the bear. But from so many weeks of dreaming, of lusting, I feel a connection to him.

But I've never met the dragon before. I've never seen the dragon before. The only thing I know about him is his scent, and his voice.

I whimper, crawl over to the bear's scent, nuzzle against his leg. It's the only way I have of objecting, of showing that I'd rather be with him, and he laughs and pets me.

"It's okay, pup. I wouldn't leave you with anyone I don't trust."

Another paw on my head, firmer, rougher.

"Well, dog. You do have another choice. You can go back in the cage until Rowan comes back, if you're so uncomfortable around me."

I shake my head, whine. No. Even the dragon must be better than that.

"Then that's settled. See you later, Rowan. I promise not to break him too much."

"You better not. There's a lot of breaking I still want to do."

I stand there, immobile, in the hallway, until I feel a tug at my leash.

"Come on, dog. Heel."

I take step after stumbling step, the dragon not slowing down in the least for me. More than once I slam into a wall, or some piece of furniture, and then the dragon stops, and I can feel the impatience rising from him.

Luckily, we don't have far to go. I can smell food nearby when we stop, heavy fabric scents, bear and dragon mixed in. The living room.

"I think I'm going to watch a movie. And you're going to keep me company."

It sounds easy. Relaxing. I'll lie on the couch, or the floor if the dragon doesn't like that. I think back to earlier, under the table, and I feel my heart start to beat faster.

He leads me to the couch, and I lean against the fabric.

"Sit. Stay."

I lie down against the couch. Relaxing.

And then I feel a sharp sting on my nose, a loud crinkle of paper. He hit me with a newspaper. I blush.

"Sit. Not lie down."

I work my way up, twist and bend without my arms to stabilize me, but I manage to sit. The pressure against the plug makes me bite my lip. Whatever they gave me for the pain is almost gone.

I hear the TV turn on, a snatch of the news, of sports. Then silence, and the sounds of an orchestra, a lion roaring. A film.

"Alright, dog. Up. On the couch."

I barely reach the rim of it sitting down. I turn, rock forward on my knees. I raise my elbows up, try to lever myself on, and tumble down.

Wordlessly, a pair of paws lifts me up as lightly as a child.

"Such a small thing."

The grip tightens. I can feel it against my bones, feel a pressure against my ribs that makes my breath short and my sides burn.

"So fragile. I wonder how long you'll stay."

One last squeeze, so hard I'm afraid a rib will crack, and then I'm pressed against the dragon's body. It's warm, warmer than I thought it would be. His scales are softer, too. I feel better, close to his scent. Rich and warm, and sweet. Like cinnamon. I imagine warm sands, dry heat.

"Better get all the fun in while I can."

The movie started, but I don't pay attention. The dragon's paw is at my rear, and he grips and slides the plug out again. I whimper, my tail still sore, still sticky with the bear's cum, but the dragon doesn't care. If he wants to use me again, he will, and nothing I can say or do will stop it.

I feel something slick and hot against my rear. The dragon's cock. My hole is wide, gaping. He slips in easily, at first.

"Mmm. Such a loose, slutty dog. Perfect for fucking."

I whimper. I wonder when it'll go back to normal. I wonder if it'll go back to normal. My tailhole is tender, burning. Even the soft rub of the dragon's cock makes me twitch and writhe in his grip.

But all the dragon has to do is let go. All the dragon has to is let gravity take me, let me slide down his oversized cock. He's as big as the bear, and I feel every inch as I slide down, every bulging vein, every ridge and spine in the dragon's cock as it scrapes against my hole.

There's no resistance. My muscles are too worn, too stretched. There's only the breath taking fullness, the push of cock against my organs, the aching, filling pain that I didn't realize I missed until now. Inch by inch, moment by moment, I feel myself filling up, feel my prostate and my insides tingle, and I huff and squirm against the dragon's skin.

"What a wonderful toy you are, dog. So cute."

He's not as big as the bear. He's bigger. I must be bottoming out now, I have to be, because his cock is getting thicker and my hole is being stretched again, tight as a drum. It hurts. It stings, and now my whimpers come faster, come harder. He's bigger than the toy, bigger than the knot.

And still I take him. I feel my rear touch his legs, feel his heavy sac against my useless one. He scratches under my chin.

"Good dog. Good toy."

I can't move. If I move, I'll pass out again. If I move, that cock inside of me will rip me open, or at least that's what it feels like. I can feel every ridge and spine against my insides, every vein and tiny detail.

Seconds pass, like that. Minutes. The dragon places a hand on my shoulder, holds me down as he shifts position, but I remain stuck on his cock. I can barely hear the movie in the background, barely pay attention to the speech. It's slow, quiet. A drama, or a documentary of some kind. Every time my attention snaps away the dragon moves, his cock moves, and scrapes against some thick knot of nerves within, and I groan.

My heart pounds in my head. I'm lost, dazed, until I feel a hand rest on my belly. Warm, soft strokes, but each one sends a tingle through my body, makes me shudder inside at the touch.

"A very good dog, indeed. No struggles. No fighting. Do you really enjoy this, or are you just that submissive, toy?"

A pressure on my head. I hear metallic clinks, a hand fumbling at buckles, and the muzzle is loosened. My tongue hangs out, panting, but I still remember: dogs don't talk.

Another touch, on my balls. A finger lowers, then raises itself to my mouth. I lick, instinctively. My own pre, my own cum, milked from me. He does this again, and again, until I don't taste anything other than his skin, warm and spicy.

It's easier this way. Easier not to think, not to fight. Easier to let them do whatever they want to me than to tell them no.

He's giving me a chance, I realize, somewhere at the back of my mind. He's giving me a chance to disobey, to say no, and it'll stop. I know it instinctively. Something about them makes me trust them, makes me believe they won't push if I don't let them. That I still have that little bit of control left.

And I don't speak.

The dragon gives me a pat on the head, buckles the muzzle again.

"Good boy."

A grin. I can hear it in his voice.

"I want to try something."

The hand is back on my stomach, harder this time, rougher, and I feel the nails dig in to my skin. He pushes against the cock inside me, and I gasp. My skin is stretched tight against him, my insides squeezed even further, and as he strokes my belly up and down and I whine. He's using me as a cocksleeve, not even bothering to fuck me.

The movie goes on in the background. I don't know how long it's been, since we started, but time seems less and less important. I've been stuffed full and aching all day, fucked constantly. Another few minutes don't matter. Another few hours don't matter. The dragon's movements are almost soothing, almost relaxing, but they're still enough to make me squirm. I'm just a toy right now.

It feels like a long time before the dragon cums, and when he does I feel it flood inside me and my stomach starts to bloat, floods outward with his cum. The dragon still doesn't stop, though, rubs all through his orgasm, and I start to whimper. My insides are as raw and rough as if he fucked them, my belly bloated as he moves it.

There's a deep sigh, a heaving of his chest against me.

"Good toy."

The music changes. Another channel. The dragon moves again, and I can feel his cum slosh inside me.

He's still hard. He grips my sides, lifts me halfway up his cock. I feel empty, hollow, before he pushes me back down. He fucks me like this again, over and over, and all I can do is breathe and moan.

"Good toy."

Each thrust makes me shudder, over and over, makes my cock start to drip again. There are no thoughts in my head anymore. Just the gentle rhythm and pulse of his cock, just the pressure and the endless, unsatisfied lust within me.

Sometime later he starts to cum, but that barely matters to me. His cock is still in me, still crushing me from inside. My stomach swells again, another inch, and this time he stops and lets me sit on his cock.

I can barely feel my tailhole, barely feel my insides, and I don't care. Something inside me has broken, something inside me twisted and gone.

I don't know what I want anymore. I don't know what to think anymore, even if I had thoughts left. My head is heavy, my limbs numb and sore.

It's easier to obey. It's easier not to fight.

The dragon scratches my chin again, gives me a kiss on my head.

"It'll be a few more hours until Roan comes back. You'll be my little cock sheath until then, dog."

I moan. A few more hours, like this. I don't think I can take it. But I know I can't fight, either. I know I can't do anything except obey.

I nod. I lean back, rest my head against his chest, try to find some position halfway comfortable, and he gives me a pat on the head.

"Good bitch. Good toy."

Just a few more hours.

He lifts me up once more, and my hole twitches as he lets me fall.

"And when Roan gets back, we can try something new."