FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chris sighed heavily in relief as he walked through the front door to his townhouse. He let his work bag fall from his shoulder and land lazily on the floor by the door; “I'll take care of it later," he thought to himself. His main focus was food since he had forgotten both his wallet and his packed lunch at home, so he just worked through his lunch break.

Chris's dog, Knight, greeted him in the kitchen, where the black Newfoundland had been chowing down on his own nutritious kibble. The human greeted his beast with a crouch and many fur-ruffling pets. “Hey there, Knight. Miss me?" he cooed, which was met with happy chuffing and overzealous, sloppy kisses. Chris laughed while his pet's eagerness knocked him on his ass, but neither that or the dog-breath slobber curtailed what he really needed right now.

With a little bit of difficulty, he got up from under the Newfie, brushed himself off, and wiped his face clean with the back of his sleeve. “You big bully," the man chuckled as he turned to the fridge. After some hemming and hawing, Chris decided on a frozen entrée, a delicious and nutritious meal consisting of Salisbury steak, mashed potatoes, and corn. He popped it into the microwave and slumped against the fridge, flipping through his email and news articles while he waited for the timer.

Chris sighed in relief again as he pulled the steaming tray from the microwave and hot potatoed it with himself to the kitchen table. He continued to fool around on his phone while he waited for it to cool down to an edible temperature, but a cold, wet nose interrupted him. He looked down at Knight and cocked an eyebrow expectantly. “Yes? Can I help you?" he asked, though his posh-incredulous look could only be held for so long before it broke into a smile and Chris laughed at the puppy dog expression that the large dog had.

“Oh, stop it, you. No begging." He tried to speak firmly, but he couldn't be mean to his adorable bear of a dog. He wouldn't relent, not this time. He turned back to his food and took a few slow, tentative bites to make sure he wouldn't scald the hell out of his mouth, then once satisfied that chowing down wouldn't send him to the hospital, chowed down in earnest.

Throughout Chris's meal, Knight would repeatedly nose at the human's legs. This was always met with dismissive chiding or a gentle push from a hand or a foot, or both. The four-legger wouldn't be deterred though, and the longer he was denied the hot, tasty treat, the more insistent he got with his nose: he nudged his owner harder and harder and more and more often, then he started to aim his nose higher and higher, from his ankles to his knees to his hips.

This went on until Knight actually knocked Chris out of his chair with a particularly firm and well-placed headbutt. While he should have been mad and reprimanded the Newfoundland, Chris couldn't help but laugh and pet his dog. “Okay, okay, fine, you mutt," Chris said as he stood back up. “Here." He took the tray from the table and scooped out the last few bites out into Knight's food bowl to mix it with the remaining kibble. “Little brat," he said, mostly to himself, as he left the kitchen to shower.

##

Chris emerged from the shower with another long, relieved sigh. He stood in the intensely humid air of the closed bathroom, took deep breaths, and for now let water and sweat roll off his light brown skin. His silence and post-shower bliss were interrupted by the sound of a big clumsy paw as it scraped up against the bathroom door. He sighed and opened the door for his dog, who promptly pounced Chris and knocked the startled human over. The impact with the ground knocked the breath out of him and sent him into a rolling-on-the-floor coughing fit.

While Chris rolled on the floor, Knight sniffed at the human's bare body, mainly around the arms and sides. But for one brief moment, that dog's nose ventured to his owner's hind, then he reared up onto his rear legs.

He hadn't done this in a long time -- since he was a puppy at least, and it was only ever an arm or a leg -- but Knight had tried to mount Chris. Because of the male's struggling, the dog couldn't really do much besides give a few sloppy thrusts, but it was more than enough. The dog's red rocket emerged just a couple inches, but it was more than enough to slap and rub against Chris's bare skin. It made the human freeze for a moment, the wetness on his skin suddenly freezing cold, before a burst of adrenaline helped him roll and drag himself from underneath his dog.

The experience left Chris shaken; he didn't even yell at Knight, he just used every ounce of his strength to shove the Newfoundland out the door before he slammed it closed. The black dog scratched at the door more and whined, but Chris didn't come out until after Knight had lost interest and left. That whole time, though, Chris leaned up against the door and panted heavily, his cheeks flushed as he tried to ignore these weird feelings that the mounting implanted in him.

##

Traumatic experiences aside, Chris was still male. He was able to put the reality that his dog had just tried to mate with him aside just long enough to get horny, get an erection, and start masturbating in his bed. With his eyes closed, he fantasized about some of his coworkers in various positions; Debbie, Jake, Laura... Most of his fantasies had him on top so that his hand and hips mirrored the thrusting action he'd be performing, but occasionally he'd be the bottom, being ridden or pegged or...

Or fucked doggy style, covered by a large, bulky body that possessed some sharp fucking nails! He squirmed and winced while the imaginary-Chris did the same while he cried out in overwhelmed bliss. The person that was fucked him was so energetic, his hips were a blur! He was fucking big, too, not just in his body but that cock split him open so nice! Whoever this was on his back was his dream man, the person he needed in his life to give him the thorough fucking that he needed on a regular basis. But, wait... Who does he know that's...?

The real Chris's eyes shot open wide as the realization, and the beginning of climax, washed over him. His hips arched up off of the bed and he wailed in confusion, the sinful cock in his hand throbbed heavily before it shot out its thick, creamy load. The first shot cleared his head entirely and landed across the headboard, but each consecutive rope landed lower and lower on his body until it simply drooled out into his pubic hair. A few aching minutes later, he finally collapsed spread eagle and limp on top of his bed.

Just as he said it in his head -- “I just masturbated to the thought of my dog fucking me, and... and it's the hardest I think I've ever came" -- the devil appeared at his bedside. Knight had apparently pushed open the door since he hadn't closed it all the way. Chris just stared at Knight, and Knight stared back, for several long minutes.

The dog was the first to act. He hopped up onto the bed -- something he often did, and something that Chris tried unsuccessfully to discourage every time it happened -- and began to lap up the salty-sweet mess that the human just made. The owner was completely stunned into inaction, he just laid there while his pet just licked up all of his spilled seed.

Once that was done, though, Knight returned to his new bullying ways. He began to nudge and headbutt Chris towards the edge of the bed, and the poor guy just couldn't push back against the superior traction that the dog had with four paws and his claws. It was a struggle, but eventually, Knight prevailed, and Chris swung his legs underneath him to catch himself before he fell off. Whenever he tried to climb into bed, the big Newfie would put himself at the edge of the bed to block his human from climbing in, but when Chris tried to seize the disobedient dog and pull him from his throne, Knight would jump backward with agility unfitting for his size. With the newly created room, Chris would once again try to climb back into bed, but that same agility was used in conjunction with Knight's great weight to shove him right back out of bed.

Eventually, the tired male gave up and decided to just go sleep in the living room. He retrieved a spare sheet and blanket from the bathroom closet and retreated to the living room to sleep on the leather couch, alone with his new and disturbed thoughts. Chris did not sleep well that night.

##

The next day, the routine repeated. It started with dinner and the bullying for part of the meal, which Chris begrudgingly allowed. Next came the attempted mounting, although this attempt was on a leg while Chris sat in his recliner rather than in a proper position. Even that didn't save the poor human from the perverse thoughts of his dog on his back and absolutely destroying his ass. Chris didn't even get to finish masturbating to the thought of his dog before Knight kicks him out of bed this night, either; Chris finishes up on couch, with the hope that maybe Knight would come down and clean him off again, but eventually he does clean himself with a paper towel before he fell asleep in his own mess.

The third day was much like the previous two, except with more mounting attempts and less bullying shoves. Knight kicked Chris out even earlier in the night before the human could even begin to masturbate. He fapped on the couch once more, but he didn't clean himself until the next morning, right before he took Knight on his morning walk.

Things kept getting worse and worse for Chris. He didn't know what to do about any of this. He didn't want to get a trainer, not yet, that was expensive and embarrassing. The thought of getting rid of Knight never even crossed the pet lover's mind. But now, Knight wouldn't even let Chris into his own bed! What's more, the beast began to demand larger and larger portions of the hot meals that Chris prepared, and it wasn't enough to just cook more; Knight demanded specifically what was on Chris's plate.

The dog weighed at least as much as him and measured at least as tall if the dog stood on his hind legs. It made it hard to resist the powerful dog.

##

One week from that fateful rendezvous in the bathroom, while on an early morning walk, Knight dragged Chris behind bushes. The human had no hope of stopping the suddenly excited dog and just tried to stay upright while he held on for the ride. A few yards past the tree line, where the summer canopy above blocked out a majority of the sunlight and the bushes they came through were decently opaque themselves, Knight knocked his owner over with a sudden direction change that tripped the off-balance man. While Chris attempted to get his bearings back and get back upright, Knight mounted once more.

It was to Chris's fortune that he was clothed this time, but the message was clear: Knight wanted to make him his bitch! He had thought it was just some sort of late teenage orneriness, but this intentional attack clarified everything for the male. He tried to break free, but since Knight had a proper foothold in the dirt this time, he wasn't so easy to dislodge. The human resisted the urge to shout out since he didn't want to be found being humped by a dog! All of his neighbors were gossipy, nosy old women, and this kind of news would ensure he would have to get rid of Knight, quit his job, change his name, move to a new state...

It was a wonder that all of these thoughts raced through his mind at the blink of an eye, but when he felt something -- one of Knight's rear paws -- scrape and claw at his ass and start to pull down his athletic shorts, his body and brain froze solid. It wasn't until he felt the bare flesh of dog cock against his ass again that he was spurred back into action. He struggled as hard as he could, but the natural evolution of the canine's ancestors' breeding instinct, plus the artificial selection of the Newfoundland's strength and size, equated to Chris being absolutely stuck where he was.

One might think that the struggling would make it incredibly difficult, maybe even potentially virtually impossible, for Knight to find his mark between Chris's cheeks, but find it he did. The naturally lubricated and small tip of the dog's penis meant for easy initial entry, but the rest of the beast's dick was another story. It bulged once to be, to Chris's practically virgin-tight pucker, brutally wide, and seemed to go on forever until the second bulge, which was at the time small and hidden within Knight's sheath. It was a small consolation in the situation, though, especially since he had to bite his arm to muffle his shout of pain.

The second of Knight's thrust went a little differently, though. The third went differently than the second, the fourth differently than the third... Chris started to feel more and more pleasure, the sickening pleasure that he had fantasized about so many times and dreaded actually feeling and enjoying. His muffled shouts of pain became groans of pleasure, and his own member began to harden underneath him as he became more and more aroused... Aroused by being raped by his own dog.

When he looked back on it, Chris wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed that the dog didn't last very long. In hindsight, though, he was certainly glad that Knight wasn't able to tie the knot the first time. When the canine's thrusts halted, Chris's groans tapered off, only to be replaced with shaky, uneven breaths. His ass felt particularly warm, why... “Oh, God, Knight just came inside me!" he whined under his breath.

Knight dismounted a minute later and began to lap up the mess that became of the fur around his crotch. Without his dog to hold him up anymore, Chris collapsed to the side. He looked at his dog with confused and angry tears in his eyes that he refused to let fall yet; the main part of the cock seemed to be as long as the better part of his forearm, and that knot, still hidden in his sheath, looked to be at least as big as his fist. Chris gulped. How had all of that member fit inside him without more discomfort? He had to be bleeding from the rough nature of the mating, but a very apprehensive touch to his sore asshole revealed he wasn't. “Thank God Knight didn't try to push... to push that into me..."

He couldn't do anything about his gaped ass and the watery discharge that Knight had deposited in him. Thankfully his shorts were out of the way for now, but with the seemingly unending volume that seeped from his ass, he wasn't sure any practical amount of waiting would make it safe to put his shorts back on. Besides, he didn't have anything else to wipe up with.

While he slowly and unsteadily got to his feet and redressed, Knight finished up his business in a bush. Satisfied that his dog wouldn't piss or shit in the house, now, Chris ended the walk early and briskly made his way home with the dog he now both loved and feared. He couldn't really be letting Knight dominate and... and start owning him, could he? It was a question he put out of his head for now. He had to worry about getting home and properly cleaning up before he had to leave for work.

##

That was their new routine: on their morning walk, Knight would drag Chris into the bushes, and the human would submit of his own will to the big dog. His resistance was futile, anyway, so he decided to just make it quicker and easier for himself by getting down on all fours for Knight. Every time, though, the dog would finish before the anal stimulation alone would get him off. This left the poor male blue-balled, and despite his best efforts to resist the urge, he always masturbated in the shower when they got back.

Each time, the knot got closer and closer to being slotted into his slowly loosening hole. Every time, he'd stare at Knight as he licked that incredibly large prick until it softened and retreated back into its hiding spot. He feared that knot like nothing else, but he kept letting Knight up onto his back, and he could tell that he was beginning to get looser and looser. It was only a matter of time.

Thankfully, Knight didn't bully Chris into sex at home. Yet, Chris tried not to remind himself.

Chris didn't know how long he had been letting Knight fuck him anymore. It quickly just became something he did, like bathing and going to work. But after what must've been at least a month of the sexual abuse, Knight finally managed to wedge that bulb of flesh at the base of his bestial cock into his human right before it swelled to its full, ridiculous size. The human immediately panicked, but it was a done deal: the bulbis glandis swelled, and Chris cried from the horrible stretching sensation it brought. He cried, and he came, the pressure on his swollen prostate just enough for him to finally cum with the dog's penis inside him.

The human only knew the basics of how the knot worked, but he didn't know all of the intricacies of canine mating behavior like after the knot was tied, the male would turn to stand ass to ass with his bitch. This made the already overwhelmed human cry harder, his poor pucker strained horribly by that huge mass trying to escape his body, which was not happening until that bulge shrunk considerably. Not that Knight cared about his human's discomfort; he got his rocks off, and properly this time. He did his job.

What felt like hours later, but was only really twenty minutes or so, the knot finally deflated enough for it to be ripped from Chris's body without causing any real physical damage. His mind was scarred from the experience for sure, though. The human bitch panted heavily and twitched and spasmed in the dirt, as he did while Knight cleaned up and finished his business. But instead of walking off a small distance to do that, the dog stood above Chris's prone form. He stood there, and after a minute lifted his leg.

The human was too exhausted and shocked to move out of the way immediately. The nearly clear urine hit him right in the face and splattered about his hair and onto his chest and arms, especially as he began to thrash and try to roll away. It was no use, though, as Knight would simply step over, reposition, and continue to piss on Chris, who could never get quite far enough away to actually stand up.

Once Knight finished his pee, the dog seemed to smile with pride and wag his tail while he stared at the defeated man. There was no coming back from this. Chris had been marked. He couldn't believe it, just like he couldn't believe anything else. This, in particular, seemed surreal, the past weeks seemed like a dream now. He laid in the wet dirt, which was quickly becoming mud from the volume of Knight's piss, and just stared at the sky through the gaps in the treetops for a while.

He knew he was late for work. He knew he'd get yelled at, but that wasn't important. What was important was getting home and cleaning himself as thoroughly as he could. Despite a shower twice as long as what he usually took, he swore he could still smell it on himself. He wasn't sure if it was in his head, or if he actually still smelled like dog piss, even after a liberal application of deodorant and cologne. When he did finally get to work, though, the aromatic properties of the coffee beans he delivered seemed to properly mask the scent. No one commented on anything except for his overuse of fragrances.

As soon as he got home, Chris was mounted, tied, and then pissed on once more. Thank God for hardwood laminate. After he cleaned the mess and did a superficial toweling of the majority of the urine from his body, Chris cooked a hot meal for Knight, then prepared himself a cold, boring sandwich.

But nighttime is when the worst humiliation came about. Knight was on the couch when Chris was supposed to go to sleep. Just the dog's presence made the human immediately nervous; as he had expected, he wasn't allowed on the couch anymore. Trying to go to the recliner revealed he wasn't allowed on that, either. The former owner began to get frustrated, but when the Newfie trotted over to the mostly unused dog bed, Chris felt his stomach drop. This had to be a dream. This couldn't be real. Someone was playing a trick on him.

But it wasn't any of those.

Chris submitted and curled up on what amounted to a large pillow on the floor. The human immediately tried to start to pleasure himself, but Knight put a stop to that; the dog came over and stepped on Chris's hand. The male was confused, and once Knight stepped off, he tried again, but this time the beast put his clawed paw right on Chris's member. The message was clear: none of that. Not without my permission, Chris thought, but how could Knight give that kind of permission?

So Chris wasn't allowed to masturbate anymore.

##

After being marked, Chris couldn't say no to anything that Knight wanted. He was mounted several times a day, now: once on the morning walk, once when he got home, once on the evening walk, and once before bed. Sometimes Knight would do it between the walk and Chris leaving for work or the walk and bedtime. Each time, the dog's scent would be reapplied, and there was nothing Chris could do besides lay there and take it.

This soon became such an issue that his own zeal in cleaning himself and his clothes and the intense application of perfumes didn't completely mask the smell; the coffee beans was his last saving grace around his coworkers, but when he wasn't handling or around that saving grace, he would occasionally hear someone mention an odd smell or see them sniffing the air and making a face. This was especially true if anyone ever crossed his path on the morning walk, which always gave Chris a small heart attack. He knew that someone in his neighborhood must have caught wind of what he was doing -- what was being done to him -- either figuratively or literally. It was only a matter of time until his life was in shambles. Or so he tried to avoid telling himself several times a day.

After his meager, unappetizing dinner, which he was only allowed to eat after serving Knight, Chris assumed the position in the living room and let himself be fucked once more. He was knotted, he came, and then he collapsed in his own sin while he recovered. While he laid there, he tried to reflect on what had led him to all of this. The humiliation of the way he let Knight push him around in both senses of the word made him hate himself, made his dick hard, and made him hate that it made his dick hard. This self-hatred and arousal fed on each other while he laid there for far longer than he usually would.

He had to get up eventually, though. Chris paper toweled himself clean and got ready to take Knight out for his evening walk. However, instead of the usual fling in the bushes, Knight just walked the path. He didn't even try to lift his leg on Chris. This had the human torn; it was nice that he didn't have to deal with the shame, but he was also worried that something may have been wrong with his dog. Knight was just his happy self, though, and he sniffed at plants and others on the walking path just as he normally would, with no sort of sign of discomfort like a limp tail, a gimp step, nothing. Chris almost doubled the length of the walk, but Knight held onto his business.

Until that night.

It was right before bed that Knight approached the naked man, as Chris had expected due to the lack of action during the walk. What he didn't expect was what was in the dog's mouth: a dog collar. Knight's collar. Or... Or now, Chris's collar. Somehow, the Newfoundland hound had managed to work open the clasp and carried it purposefully to his new pet.

With his hand quivering, Chris reached out and took the nylon strap from Knight's maw and brought it to his neck. There was a long, pregnant pause as he held the collar just inches from his throat. But he submitted. He wrapped it around his neck, tightened it, and secured it. He made it final: he was his dog's pet, Knight was now his owner, the master had become slave and vice versa. He had seen it in the news several times over the years, it was an infrequent discovery, but what happened was total annihilation of the accused's life. Just like rape or pedophilia, just the accusation was enough to ruin a life.

Chris wanted to vomit. He was so sick with himself. But, to his master's wordless whim, he turned and presented his ruined asshole. He was fucked, bred, knotted. Afterward, Knight marked Chris, then nudged the marked human towards his bed. Humiliated, reeking of his Master's scents, the pet crawled on all fours and collapsed into a ball to sleep.

##

Knight no longer wore a collar when they went on walks, and thus Chris just followed Knight into the bushes to take his ritual mounting. Eventually, Chris became so loose that the knotting became just for the symbolism of his submission, and often the bulb of flesh would quickly pop free from his ass, followed by the seed that Knight's body seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of.

Unfortunately, there was no hiding the fact he was wearing a collar, there was no hiding that Knight no longer wore a collar, and since his elderly neighbors were so nosy and perceptive, there was no hiding the fact that the collar that the human now sported was the same material, color, and condition of the one that the dog seemed to have suddenly lost. Nothing came out immediately, but he knew that everyone on his street knew. It was only a matter of time before he was outed as a human pet and shamed to the point he'd have to run away.

He knew his coworkers knew something was up. Chris always took his collar off and stashed it in his bag before he got to work, but the stench of piss and cum couldn't be hidden by the coffee beans anymore. Every single one of his coworkers avoided him now, and would often completely ignore him if he tried to start a conversation as if he didn't even exist. Thankfully, he never interacted with any of his customers long enough for them to get more than a whiff of his new scent, so he didn't lose work yet, at least.

The only comfort he found anymore was the attention his Master gave him when he returned home. He welcomed every mounting with unbridled cries of passion, love, and appreciated. Chris loved every session of marking that Knight bestowed upon him. The slave was eager to prepare meals for his bestial owner. And he was eternally grateful that his master allowed him to sleep in the pet bed and not on the floor. Chris had simply lost all control of his life, which was now in the paws of Master Knight.

##

Months went by. Maybe even a year. But there was never a swarm of news vans at his home, there was never anything said directly to him, but he was just simply overlooked by everyone. What little social life he had died out completely. His neighbors wouldn't even look away from him anymore. Same for his coworkers. It was like everyone in his immediate vicinity was too polite to actually talk about his... problem, but they weren't polite enough to try to act like it didn't exist. They just acted like he didn't exist.

This suited him just fine, though. He didn't need anyone else except for his Master. He didn't need anything beside Knight and his cock and his cum and his piss and his scent and his love. That's all he felt from the Newfie: love. Why else would he do this to him? The dog loved him so much, that's why the human was imposed on so much. Chris didn't know what Stockholm Syndrome was.

Something compelled him to seek out others like himself, though. Maybe he could find his Master new pets, he thought. He did kind of miss actual human contact and discussion; talking to Master and himself and hearing no voice in return began to wear on him emotionally. He did ask Master first, though, and when he received no negative response (or any positive one, for that matter), he began his search online for other human servants to animals.

It took him much longer than he would've expected, however. His search yielded only vaguely worded posts, even on sites that promoted bestiality, and his own inquiries were either ignored or deleted by administrators. He was obsessed with finding others like him though; there had to be others on the Internet, there had to be a community of people like him.

The pet searched for hours for even a hint of where to have actual, open discussions about his and others' lives. It was very late into the night (or rather, early in the morning) before he found a definite hint: he'd have to crawl to the underbelly of the Internet, with many anonymous proxies, dead-end links, and an abundance of illicit merchandise and services available. It's a wonder his community let him exist if this is what it took to find others like himself.

##

Chris called into work the next day, something he hadn't done in years, even if he had a nasty cold. Everyone was probably thankful to not have him around, anyway. He spent the day attempting to follow the cookie crumb trail that he had been set off on: often, he would come up with a dead end, and would have to scrutinize every step he had taken thus far to try to find the scent again. And of course, he had his Master to attend to, which he was all too happy to have as a distraction from his search.

It was later into the evening before Chris actually found the sanctuary he sought. It was a massive relief for him. He went through the process of creating his account, which wasn't unlike filling out a job application, minus all of the actually identifying information like his full real name or address. It required photographic evidence, which he was reluctant to collect at first, but as he sat and considered it, the idea eventually excited him: he got to prove to others his love for Master!

So during his next breeding and marking, Chris managed to take pictures of himself with Knight on his back and of the stream of piss as it exited the dog's sheath. He uploaded and sent these along with the rest of his desired account information and awaited with great anxiety and eagerness for the reply from the administration.

The wait was horrendous for the poor human-pet. He called out of work the next two days, thankful that he had so much paid sick leave accrued. He spent the time pampering and servicing his Master, and every minute he wasn't doing that, he was refreshing his anonymous e-mail, waiting for the reply from the hidden website.

At the end of his third day of absence from work, Chris finally received the e-mail he had been waiting for: his acceptance letter to the Human Pet Zone.