enter— your puppy boy !!
status: edited (but not proofread)
synopsis: your friend asks you to dog-sit, and you oblige, only to find out it wasn’t what you were expecting.
word count: 4.2k
cw: porn with no plot, AMAB reader, AMAB char, top!reader, sub!char, bot!char, reader has a big dick, pet play, dehumanization, collars, infidelity/cheating, unprotected sex, rough sex, spanking, creampie, rutting, biting, marking, overstimulation, multiple rounds, slight choking, dom/sub dynamics, degradation, slut-shaming, sex toys (tail butt plug), double penetration, possessiveness.
your friend called you up last minute, asking if you could dog-sit for the weekend. you agreed without hesitation—after all, how hard could it be?
when you arrived, the house was strangely quiet. following the instructions she’d texted you seemed straightforward:
- "make sure puppy stays hydrated. his water bowl is by the cage."
- "he only eats from the floor—use the dish labeled ‘good boy’ in the kitchen."
- "daily walks are a must. leash is hanging by the door."
- "if he’s restless or needy, give him belly rubs and scratch behind his ears. he loves that."
- "use the command ‘sit’ if he gets too rowdy. he’ll listen."
- "bedtime is at 10 pm sharp. puppy sleeps in the cage with his blanket."
easy enough. you made your way to the living room, only to stop short at the sight of a large, covered cage. oddly, you didn’t hear at shuffling or pacing from the inside. you hesitated, curiosity (and maybe a bit of dread) gnawing at you as you lifted the sheet.
and much to your surprise inside, curled up with a collar tight around his neck, a false set of fluffy ears, and a tail plug nestled firmly in place, was her puppyboy—her belonging. his eyes were wide and eager, cheeks flushed, cock already half-hard between his thighs, waiting for you to discover just what kind of "dog-sitting" she actually had in mind for you. he whimpered the moment you met his gaze, shifting so the tail plug wagged, desperate for your attention before you even said a word.
okay. um. what the fuck.
with a sigh, you slipped your phone back into your pocket, glancing down at her puppy—for the weekend, he was yours to take care of either way, you guessed. ugh. is this some sick joke? was she getting off thinking of this?
whatever. you’re getting paid. might as well play into it for a job well-done.
“come,” you motioned. he did. he shifted to sit back on his haunches, palms flat on the floor, thighs splayed wide so his cock jutted out, flushed and leaking, the head leaving a wet mark on his skin. the tail plug twitched with every little movement, the faux fur brushing against his lower back, and his knees bore fresh red marks from the roughness of the bottom of his cage. his tongue lolled out, panting in earnest, chest rising and falling with every eager, shallow breath.
why is his tongue out like that—no, don’t think about it, too late, thinking about it.
you tried to go about your day normally. but the sight of him—hips rocking, ass pressing up, shoulders hunched in a perfect, submissive arch at your side—made your mouth dry. the urge to grab his hips, to squeeze his trembling thighs, to press your palm between his shoulder blades and force him lower, was almost overwhelming. your cock throbbed in your jeans, straining at the zipper, as you watched him pant and whine, precum beading at his tip and trailing down to smear across his thigh and the hardwood beneath him.
god, he was such a tease—so needy, so eager to show off while you were scrolling on your phone or bushing yourself with something else. sometimes, with a shameless flourish, he would even drag his tongue over his own forearm, leaving a glistening wet trail, or roll onto his back, knees bent and legs spread wide, cock twitching as he wiggled for your attention.
once, when your patience was nearly gone and he deemed you weren’t paying much attention to him, he crawled forward and began rutting against your leg, desperate and mindless, his cock grinding against your calf, leaving a hot, sticky mess as he whined and panted, eyes wild with need. the humiliation and sheer animal desperation in his movements made your breath catch, restraint hanging by a thread as you watched his body tremble with every scrap of praise, every touch. you could see the muscles flex and quiver beneath his skin, the way he arched into every caress, begged for your grip, for your weight pressing him down in any way he could. it took everything in you not to snap right then, not to bend him over the nearest surface and rut into him until he was boneless and spent, so perfectly vulnerable and shamelessly inviting—every inch of him a living, breathing temptation. it was surreal, but you’d agreed to this, and the instructions were clear.
you set the thought to the side.
if he wanted to be treated like a dog, you would. a dog is just a dog; it can't think like a human, and communication doesn't work, so it's just an animal. you decided to think of it at that level. your tolerance was quite broad.
later, you poured water into his bowl and set it down, watching him scramble forward on all fours, knees scraping against the floor. he ducked his head, collar chain rattling, and lapped greedily at the water—his jaw moving clumsily, tongue flicking out, droplets splashing onto his chin and trailing down his bare chest. drool soaked his skin, trickling along the hollow of his throat, and the mess pooled beneath him.
“you’re drooling more than drinking, you know that?” all he did was rigorously nod his head in response.
when you set out his food next, he crawled to the dish, lowering his face until his nose bumped the rim, then shoved his mouth into the food, eating hands-free—shoulders and back flexing, ass high in the air once more, tail plug twitching visibly with each eager movement. his cock hung and swayed, hard and dripping, smearing more precum onto the floor with every shift. that was going to be a real pain to clean up.
you could see the heat staining his cheeks, his eyes flicking up for approval even as he stuffed his mouth, lips shiny and flecked with crumbs. every part of him—his trembling thighs, his flexed back, his parted lips and wet chin—was on display, a needy, pitiful thing desperate for your approval and utterly unconcerned with his own dignity. you ignore him again for your own.
leashing him for the daily walk, you clipped the collar and tugged, the leather digging into his skin as you guided him forward. he trudged after you on all fours, elbows and knees taking the brunt of the movement, his thighs trembling, knees red and sore from the hard floor. his cock bobbed with each shuffle, the shaft brushing against the cold hardwood, leaving slick trails as he moved, his hips swaying, the tail plug bouncing in time with your steps.
every time you paused, you let your hand tangle in his hair or scratched behind his ears, dragging your nails slowly down his spine—he whimpered, body arching into your touch, desperate for any scrap of attention. his ass wiggled, tail plug twitching as he tried to catch your eye, every inch of him on display for your enjoyment, shameless and obedient.
following the instructions to the letter, you couldn’t help but feel a strange satisfaction at how easily he fell into his role—and how naturally you fell into yours.
you watched him, crawling at your feet. the collar was a constant reminder of his status and your new authority, the metal tag jingling softly whenever you tugged it to steer him where you wanted. his whines were constant—high, pleading noises every time you pulled on the thing. it wasn’t helping.
really, you tried to contain yourself—you did. but a man can only handle so much.
sometimes, when you denied him a command or left him waiting, the whining would grow sharper, needier, until you couldn’t help but smirk and call him a needy mutt.
with every command you gave, “sit, roll over, stay,” he seemed to slip deeper into his role—submissive, needy, and desperate for your praise or discipline. his cock was already leaking, desperate and untouched. still, you made sure he earned every stroke, only rewarding him with a firm scratch behind the ears or a sweet word when he was being good for you. when you cupped his chin and made him look up, the helpless, wanton expression on his face made you want to see how much further you could push him.
you pressed your thumb to his lips, smirking. "tell me, puppy," you murmured, voice low, "your real owner is a woman, right? you belong to her, her collared little pet—she keeps you caged and marked, teases you with her hands and voice, but she can’t fuck you right, can she? i’m the only one who can split you open, fuck you so deep you forget your own name, make you drool all over the sheets just from getting filled. has she ever make you tremble and cry, leave you dripping and used, begging to be owned? or is it better with me—am i a better owner because i could actually fuck you, make you scream, bruise your hips, ruin you for anyone else? do you like how i treat you, even when i make you beg and whimper like this, would you like it if i stuff you full and make you take every inch?"
his response was immediate—a whine, choked and desperate, eyes shining as he nodded frantically, unable to form words but eager to please, shame burning in his cheeks at how easily he caved. "say it," you demanded, tightening your grip on his collar. "tell me whose you are, and how much you need to be my pathetic little pet—the only one who can fuck you right, stuff you so full you can’t even think."
he whimpered, voice shaky but eager to obey. "yours, sir. i’m yours. you’re the best owner—better than anyone. please, let me be good for you… i want to be your good boy. please fill me up.”
you made him crawl to you, guiding him by the collar, and forced him to kneel with his face buried in the bedding, ass high and waiting.
you pulled open and spat on his hole, your hands gripping his hips tightly as you forced him to arch his back, tail plug swaying with every movement. the sight of the plug already stretching him, the faux fur brushing his lower back, made your cock throb. you lined yourself up, pressing the swollen head of your cock right against the plug, letting him feel the blunt pressure of both at his entrance. slowly, you pushed in, not bothering to remove the plug—forcing him to open up, your cock stretching him impossibly wide around the thick toy, the tight ring of muscle swallowing it all up helplessly as you breached him. inch by inch, you fed your cock into him, the toy held firmly in place, the sensation of being pried open by both making him shudder violently. he gasped, body jolting as you bottomed out, the fullness so overwhelming his thighs trembled, his voice breaking into helpless, high-pitched moans. you paused, buried all the way inside, feeling the plug pressed hard against the underside of your shaft, the inner walls squeezed impossibly tight around both intrusions. he was stuffed, stretched to the limit, unable to close even a bit, his hole forced wide and gaping around your cock and the thick plug. you kept him like that, not letting him adjust, grinding your hips so he could feel every vein, every inch of you, the toy pushed deeper with every slow, deliberate movement. the strain of accommodating so much made him twitch, whole body convulsing from the strain, sweat slicking his skin as he babbled wordless pleas. only when you felt him relax—his hole spasming around the impossible stretch—did you start to thrust, shallow at first, your cock and the toy rubbing together inside him, making his insides churn, and his moans turn wild in no time. saliva dribbled down his chin onto the sheets, and the deep, relentless probing hit his solar plexus, the ache twisting into sharp, dizzying pleasure, his brows furrowing and eyes rolling as you used him.
the room echoed with the wet slap of skin against skin each time your hips met his ass, your cock splitting him open and making him gasp, hole stretched wide and twitching around both your length and the toy. you could feel the heat radiating off his flushed skin, sweat beading along the line of his spine as your palms slid over the tense muscles of his back, leaving streaks as you raked your nails down. each thrust was deliberate, meant to remind him exactly who owned him—your cock and the plug grinding together, making him cry out as you leaned over his trembling body, breath hot against his ear. you tugged his collar, forcing his head up, so you could see his tongue lolling, drool smeared across his cheek, eyes rolling back with every rough thrust.
his moans and needy whines filled the room—high, desperate, and punctuated by the jingle of his collar with every sharp movement. his knuckles turned white where he gripped the bedding, arms trembling from the force of your rutting, whole body shuddering at the praise you growled in his ear for being your filthy, obedient dog. he shivered and pushed back harder, chasing every scrap of attention you gave, his tail plug twitching in time with your rhythm, the inner lining of his hole, clinging to both of the intrusions, nearly protruding before retracting all over again.
you wanted to see how much the puppy could take.
you slapped his thigh, relishing the way he yelped, and ordered him to bark for you—his voice breaking as he obeyed, utterly debased and eager to please.
you grabbed the base of the furry tail plug and twisted it, making him sob as his muscles clenched around both your cock and the thick toy. the sensation forced more precum from his leaking cock, dribbling onto the sheets as he writhed and whimpered, hips jerking uncontrollably.
your free hand roamed his body, tracing every ridge of his spine, squeezing his ass, then spreading his cheeks just to watch your cock disappear into his hole and the plug stretch him wider with every thrust. you pressed a thumb down on the plug, grinding it in, he howled like an animal. when you pressed even hard, as if prying open the deepest part, he convulsed, unable to close his mouth. you reveled in the way his entire body convulsed beneath you, helpless and desperate.
you reached under him to wrap around his throat again, pulling him up so his back was flush against your chest. his breathing turned ragged, chest heaving, his pulse fluttering beneath your grip. you bit down on his shoulder, hard enough to leave marks, and felt him shudder, his breath stuttering as tears squeezed from the corners of his eyes. with every brutal thrust, you could feel him clenching, desperate for more, his cock untouched and bobbing between his shaking legs, the tip smearing precum over the bedding. you reached forward and pinched his nipple, twisting it until he choked on a moan, then slapped his thigh again lightly in that red spot—just enough to make him gasp and rut into your touch, precum splattering with each frantic jerk of his hips. you spat into your palm and smeared it over his cock, stroking him slowly, teasingly, just to watch him sob in frustration when you stopped again. "beg for it," you growled, voice hot against his ear. "tell me you want to be fucked like this—tell me you love being my filthy little mutt."
you gripped his hips so tightly your fingerprints bloomed red on his skin, rutting into him until the bedding bunched beneath his knees and his arms buckled from exhaustion. his cries turned to broken sobs of bliss, drool pooling under his cheek, cock leaking in a puddle on the sheets. you bent low to kiss the side of his face—wet, flushed, and stained with tears—you could feel him trembling all over, thighs quaking, muscles taut as a bowstring as you denied him again and again, making him plead and babble for release.
you alternated between praising his obedience and degrading him, nails dragging down his sides, fingers digging into his skin, leaving raw red marks as a reminder of your ownership. you slapped his ass and watched the flesh jiggle, then pinched his nipples until he whimpered, rewarding his good behavior with a tug on his collar and a harsh thrust that made him yelp. you rutted into him hard, your cock driving deep with every thrust, the blunt force making him cry out, his voice raw and high-pitched. with every grind of your hips, you pressed the plug deeper into him, making him clench around you, his hole stretched and dripping. when you wrapped your hand around his throat, collar tight beneath your fingers, he whimpered your name, voice muffled and eager to be used, drooling onto the bedding as you kept him pinned. you leaned over, biting at his ear, then spat on his cheek and watched him shudder in desperate gratitude. every time your hips slammed into him, you felt the quiver of his thighs, the slick slide of sweat and skin, and the way his hole clenched desperately around you. he arched his back, pushing back to meet you, rutting against the sheets, desperate for friction to his own aching cock—which you cruelly denied. “bad puppy.”
he was a mess—spit smeared across his cheek, tears pricking his lashes, eyes unfocused, prattling broken pleas and praises as you used his body. his cock jerked and spasmed, untouched, as he came hard for you, painting the sheets in messy, desperate spurts. even as you kept fucking him, the overstimulation quickly built again—his hips shaking, whines growing higher with each thrust until he tensed and came a second time, cum leaking in thick, sticky ropes down his thighs. the raw need between you grew, the rhythm turning relentless, both of you lost in the sensory haze—muscles straining, bodies pressed together, the sharp scent of sweat, precum, and arousal thick in the air as you claimed him over and over, not stopping until you were both gasping and spent, his cum leaking messily beneath him, the bedding soaked with filthy puppy cum.
"you’re such a mess, aren’t you?" you murmured into his ear, voice rough with arousal as you ground into him from behind. "tell me who you belong to."
“you..."
you chuckled, smacking his ass hard enough to make him jolt. "that’s right. i want to hear you say it every time i fuck you. loud enough for the neighbors to know who’s making you bark."
"p-please— please, use me, m-make me bark, make me yours!" he begged, voice breaking as you pulled him up by the collar, forcing him to look at you.
"such a needy little thing," you taunted, leaning over to bite down on his shoulder. "is this what you wanted when you begged me to dog-sit? to be fucked stupid, to be nothing but a leaking, drooling mutt?"
he sobbed, pushing back against you, "yes, sir, please—want to be ruined, want to be your bad dog—please, please, use me."
every so often, you’d make him thank you, forcing him to repeat how much he loved being used, loved being nothing but a filthy mutt for your pleasure. "th-thank you, sir— thank you, f-for using me, f-for making me yours— f-for making me— feel like— like a real dog," he babbled, voice hoarse with desperation and bliss.
when you finally let him ride you, straddling your hips with the leash wrapped tightly around your fist, he bounced helplessly, whining and panting, cock swinging and dripping while you thrust up into him, making him clamp down and grind desperately for friction.
"look at you, riding my cock like you were made for it," you said, yanking on the leash so he gasped and arched, eyes rolling back. "whose filthy mutt are you?"
"y-yours! yours, sir, just for you—p-please, please, d-don’t stop! c-can’t stop—gonna—gonna cum again!" as you picked up the pace, he came with a loud, broken cry—hot, sticky ropes painting your skin and his own belly. even as he was still pulsing and leaking, you didn’t let up, you weren’t done yet, fucking him through the aftershocks, making him sob and beg as his cock jerked again, spilling another, weaker load with nothing left in his balls. you felt him clamp down around you, milking your cock until you finally gave in, groaning as you pumped your own load deep inside him, thick and hot, flooding him with your release. as you kept thrusting through the aftershocks, your cum and his mixed inside him, and when you finally pulled out, a thick string of cum stretched between your cock and his gaping hole before snapping, the rest oozing out in sloppy, glistening streams, dripping down his thighs to pool with the rest of his spent desire, your cum and spit, and everything else.
before you marked him, you pulled him back against you, spooning him close with his back pressed to your chest, one arm wrapped around his waist to keep him in place. you let him feel your breath against his neck, your hand splayed possessively over his belly as you ground your hips against his ass, holding him still and savoring the way he trembled in your grasp. that's when you started to leave your marks— everywhere you could reach, biting along the slope of his shoulder and the nape of his neck, your teeth sinking in deep enough to bruise, your nails raking down his sides and across his thighs. you wanted everyone to see exactly who had owned him that night—how his body was smeared with your lust, his skin painted in the colors you’d made. as you raked your nails down his back, you watched thin red lines bloom and fade, your fingerprints blooming purple on his hips where you’d gripped him the hardest, branding him as your filthy, fucked-out slut. some marks you left boldly, wanting them to be seen, while others you pressed into places only he—or his owner—would find later. not that you cared. she must have known this would happen. and if not, she was sorely mistaken about your character.
you bit down again, savoring the way he gasped and arched under you, the helpless way his cock twitched and leaked at every fresh display of ownership. the knowledge that she might discover them made you bite down harder, leaving a perfect ring of marks on his shoulder, your claim written in flesh—proof that he’d let another use him, that he’d let someone else make him this wanton and ruined.
leaning in, you pressed your lips to each bitten spot, whispering, “no amount of scrubbing will hide who you belong to now. you’ll remember me every time you see these marks—every time she touches you, she’ll know you’re nothing but a filthy, cheating mutt.”
as you dressed him after, your fingers lingered on each bruise, each swollen bite. “these marks are for her,” you said, voice low, “but these—” you pressed your thumb into a fresh bite on his hip, making him gasp, “—these are for me. she might see, and maybe she’ll guess, but only you and i will ever know how you begged for each one.”
he whimpered at your words, clinging to you with trembling arms, desperate for your praise and your warmth. you stroked his hair, wiped away the tears with your thumb, and whispered, "you’re perfect. my filthy, obedient, broken puppy."
he smiled through the haze, eyes glazed with satisfaction and exhaustion, "th-thank you, sir. thank you for— for everything."
exhausted and utterly spent, you gathered the puppyboy up in your arms and carried him to the bathroom. he whimpered softly, still trembling from your treatment of him, as you gently set him in the tub. you ran the water warm, lathered up a soft washcloth, and began to clean him—meticulously washing away the culmination of bodily fluids from his skin, the sticky streaks on his thighs, and the traces of sweat and cum from every inch of his body. you made sure to be gentle, running your fingers through his hair, washing behind his ears, and letting the water rinse away the evidence of what you'd done. at least at the surface level.
he leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut, letting out small, contented whines as you cared for him, your touch a stark contrast to the roughness from before. when he was clean and relaxed, you dried him off with a towel, wrapped him snugly in his blanket, and carried him back to his cage. only then did you lock him in, watching him curl up, limp and satisfied, ready for sleep.
you should feel guilty putting him back like this. you don’t.
"there we go. sleep tight, mutt. tomorrow we see just how much more stupid i can fuck you."
