The doorbell rang, and my cock jumped. My little fucktoy was here. 

I paused my game and glanced around my living room for any crumbs or food—none, of course. I'm not a stickler for organisation, but I take care of my property. As I was about to today. 

I pulled on some shorts, stretching them over my hardening cock, then put my hand down on the arm of my couch and leaned forward to stand—then stopped and grabbed my shirt, too. I carefully pulled it over my horns, and stood. Couldn't make the neighbours too suspicious of my preteen visitor.

Because he wasn't 18. Think I'm an idiot? Some kids are late bloomers, sure, but they at least lost some of their baby fur. 

I opened the door, and there he was, eyes wide with lust, anxiety, awe, and fear. I smiled, twisting my hips behind the door to hide my even harder cock. No neighbours interrupted the green lawns and white porches across the street, but one could be staring through the window. 

“Scout!” I smiled wide, putting all the love I could fake into it. “Daddy's so happy you made it.”

Some of the anxiety left his eyes, but not the fear. Smart boy. He knew what was coming. He just wanted it too much. 

I smiled wider to forestall my laugh, then stepped back and motioned him to enter. He swallowed, his cute chubby little chin bobbing, then stepped into the house. And stared at the door with his cute brown eyes, intent. Because he knew the rules. 

I closed the door slowly, letting the seconds tick by. He bit his lip, twitched his paws, and wriggled his foot on the floor. He stared as the latch slid into its slot. Then the door clicked and locked, and I grabbed him by his neck and slammed him against the wall so hard his beautiful belly jiggled.

“You're Daddy's now, pup,” I said, my voice hard. That’s how you break toys: let them walk to the cliff—then shove them over. And the little pup liked it, his nub of a cock growing in his shorts as he stared up at me, his breath rasping from my hand on his throat. Such a well-trained fucktoy.

I stepped forward until the short pup could barely see me over my belly, and my massive body held him again the wall. “Say it.”

“I—I.” His neck flexed as he tried to swallow, but his throat couldn't move enough in my hand, and drool dripped from his muzzle instead. “I—I'm yours now, Daddy.”

“Good pup,” I said. Then, gentler, tenderer. “Good pup.” I released his neck and wrapped my arms around him, pulling him into my belly. His muzzle squished up, forced to stare into my eyes. 

“You make Daddy so happy, and so full of love.”

His tail thumped against the wall, and I laughed. The kid was so easy to manipulate. Not that I wanted to hurt him—not really. We each got what we needed out of this. He needed love and affection from a Daddy he felt safe with. And I needed a barely pubescent boy to mold into my perfect little sex slave. 

Still, he felt so good in my arms, soft and warm and helpless and devoted and mine, eager to do whatever I said. Eager to earn my praise, my professions of love. 

“Now uniform,” I barked. “And on the edge of the bed.”

“Yes, Daddy,” he said, his high-pitched voice cracking, and he ran off to the bedroom.

Did I feel bad that my love was performative? No. It’s scummy, sure, but then how could fucking a 12 year old not be? I'm a pervert, and being scummy just makes it hotter—giving in to pleasure when you know you shouldn't. Besides, if I didn't claim this kid, some worse Daddy might, who, instead of telling the kid how good and wonderful he is, would tell him he's stupid and useless to control him. When I'm done with him, this kid will know how good he is in bed and that he'll make any Daddy worth his grey happy.

I reached the bedroom as the kid, naked, pulled the black harness over his head. His big ass jiggled as he buckled the leather together, one strap across his chest and another over his round belly. Perfect for any angle I wanted to fuck him from. 

I stroked my hard cock through my shorts as he ran back to my wall of kink, grabbed a collar, and clasped it around his neck. The leash attached to it was too long for his short body, almost half its length dragging on the floor as he ran over to me—I like my fucktoys young, but rarely do I find one this young. 

“Uniform on, Daddy!” he said as he stopped in front of me, his tiny little nub of a cock erect beneath the curve of his hanging belly. Usually, I have my fucktoys wear a jock or cage—or both—as part of their uniforms, but his barely pubescent cock was too pretty to hide. 

“What a good pup,” I said. “So perfect and gorgeous.”

He barked and wagged and I rubbed his belly, sending his wiggles into overdrive. God, this kid was just too cute. And he was mine to use as I saw fit.

“You ready to make Daddy happy, pup?”

“Always, Daddy!”

“Good pup,” I said, rubbing his belly one last time and eliciting another wag and bark. Then I rested my cock on the tip of his nose, the cool, wet black tickling me. “What's the rule, pup?”

He stared at my cock and swallowed. “Once you start, you don't stop until you're finished.”

“That's right, pup.” I stroked my cock gently, keeping it on the tip of his nose. His eyes followed my hand, and drool moistened his bottom lip.

“When you're ready, open,” I said. 

He whimpered, the lust and fear mixed in his big eyes. He breathed in deep, swallowed, closed his eyes, and opened. As wide as he could. The drool rolled off the side of his lip.

“A good little broken pup for Daddy.” I grabbed the back of his head and pulled it back and down. He winced, but his mouth stayed open and his knees buckled. 

I flopped my cock into the tip of his tongue, warm then commanded, “Look at me.”

He opened his eyes and gazed up at me, those big, beautiful, innocent preteen eyes, devotion and fear and lust and need, all with my cock in his little mouth between them. Fuck yes. Could have stroked my cock and shot right there, if I wanted. But he needed to be broken first.

“Good pup,” I said, then slammed my cock into his throat. 

That little throat spasmed around my cock, too thick for his mouth, and the edges of his canines scraped against the side of my cock. I didn't care. I had broken him for this. He was mine. 

I pulled back, then slammed my cock into him again and again. He gagged, crying, trying to fight me off with his little paws. But his desperate struggle just made me thrust harder and deeper, my belly smacking against his nose. He was helpless, even unbound—all that time under the barbell was for this.

The panic set into him, his whole body convulsing, his knees giving out. I held him up by his head, fingers deep in his fur. I shoved my cock through his spasming throat one last time, letting it squeeze and pulse along my cock, then dropped him to the floor. 

He collapsed, knees then belly smacking against the mats. His cheek pressed against the ground, his chest heaving in huge, sucking gasps.

I stared down at him, waiting. Watching his body convulse and his stomach retch. But he hadn't vomited, the good little boy. 

“What do you say, pup?”

“Th—” he said, then stopped to dry heave again. “Thank you.” He gasped for breath, the two words having exhausted his lungs. “Daddy.”

I knelt, pulled him upright, and cradled him in my arms. His tears and snot smeared my chest, cold and slimy. But gentleness was the secret to breaking this little boy, and he would be completely mine. 

“That's Daddy's good little pup.” The words poured out quick and soft, a stream of love when he needed it most. “Such a good pup for Daddy. Making Daddy feel so good and so proud. Such a strong, brave pup, so good for Daddy. So tough.”

He sniffled, but smiled. He placed a paw on my chest, weak and tender. He looked up into my eyes, and his were so wide and devoted and trusting even as he cried. Fuck. I had broken this boy so well.

Then he closed his eyes and rested his head against my chest. I wasn't done with him yet, as my hard, dripping pre, slobber-coated cock attested, but I held him there anyway. I let him enjoy this love that poured through him, that he had needed his whole life. 

I didn't feel the same way, but I still wanted h him happy, even when my whole body ached to breed him, when my balls were gripped with need like a vice. He could have his moment. Because the only thing hotter than a preteen fucktoy is a preteen fucktoy that is ecstatic to be used, obeying my perverse, selfish pleasure with trusting joy.

Ok, moment over. Time to ravage this preteen cub. And yet, I bent over and kissed him on the forehead and stroked my hand down his neck, then back. Then again. “Such a good pup for Daddy,” I said as though I hadn't already said it. Already given him his moment. 

He looked up at me once again while his hand went down, finding my aching cock, stroking it, and I mooed so loud. 

“But you're not finished yet, Dadd—”

I grabbed his throat, cutting off the words. “No, I'm not.” His eyes went wide in shock and fear and pain and lust, and I just soaked it in like sunshine. Then I turned him around, losing my grip on his neck but getting his warm ass against my cock. And his neck in perfect position. 

“Daddy doesn't stop until he's done,” I said. Then I wrapped the inside of my elbow against his throat, putting my fingers against the biceps of my other arm, which pushed down on his head.

I squeezed. 

His body collapsed, limp, yanking down on my arm. I held him up by his neck, by my grip on his jugular. I counted to 10, then dropped his unconscious body on the bed, his ass right at cock level. 

I grabbed the lube by the bed, slicked up my cock, then shoved it into his unresisting hole. I bellowed as my hips pressed against his plump, delicious, warm ass, then breathed in, and—fucked.

I slammed my cock into that beautiful preteen ass over and over, his limp, unconscious body jiggling, his round belly shifting with each thrust. Them his ass squeezed hard in spasming bursts around my cock, his head shaking. 

“Wh—what,” he said, his eyes unfocused, glazed. “What's—fuck. Fuck, Daddy.”

I slapped his ass, hard, on the outstroke of my fuck. “You know the rule, pup,” I said, and I grabbed his head and shoved it into the bed with all my massive strength. The mattress swallowed his head, and my hand covered what little remained. Only a few tufts of fur poked out, revealing its presence.

He fought against it, of course, tiny little paws scrabbling against the sheets, legs squirming for purchase. But even in the involuntary fervour of hypoxia and pain and terror, he couldn't budge my hand. Couldn't slow the hammering rhythm of my pounding cock deep into his preteen ass.

My orgasm built in my balls, spreading through my thighs and belly, the aching pressure demanding release. Freedom. Breeding.

 My fingertips dug into his skull, hard. My hips thrust through ragged breath and tingling cockhead. Each exhalation became a grunt, unbidden. I was gone, lost in the heat and sweat and need and electric pleasure and ache and love and my little preteen fucktoy who's mine mine mine. 

“My puppy my puppy my puppy,” I chanted to the god of orgasms. 

Like a rocket had been set off in my balls, I came. Screaming. Shuddering. My low shook my chest and the spurts of my cock shook my hips. Deep inside him, where I was meant to be, filling him with an orgasm that didn't seem to end, my scream only stopping as my lungs emptied, and I gasped for breath. 

Finally, my cock stopped pulsing, the intermittent reverberations of my orgasm convulsing my body as I gasped and mooed, each one rubbing my cockhead against Scout’s delicious ass. Then I collapsed, my hand coming off his head, and he gulped down air, then panted it out, eyes glassy, his entire body focused on his desperate need to breathe. 

“Good puppy,” stroking his head and letting the words flow. “Such a good puppy, so good to Daddy. Made Daddy cum harder than I thought possible. Your tight hole around my cock put me into ecstasy, and you took my cock so well. Just like my good little puppy should.”

As Scout’s breathing lost its panicked edge—though not it's heaving gasps—he nestled into my belly, my spent cock against his ass. I looked down over his head, and his little nub of a cock still quivered. I should let him suffer blue balls, tell him that his pleasure is serving me, making me happy. As a good pup does. But as I stared at his little cocklet, a more devilishly delightful idea came to mind. 

“Just feel Daddy's hand on your head and relax,” I said, my voice husky and soothing. Rhythmic. Hypnotic. “Just let your breaths come, slowing a little bit each time, relaxing more with every stroke of my hand, every word, every breath. Let everything float away but my hand and my voice, and sink.”

The programming I've been giving him for the last few sessions paid off, and his body relaxed as I said his trigger. “What a good puppy. Every time I say sink, you do, just falling into a trance. Every time I say sink, you fall deeper than before, just completely in my voice, my warmth, my touch, my love. Sink.”

“It feels so right, lost in me. Daddy's puppy. As my words enter your mind, you become them. Your mind is in me, encompassed in my words, like I flipped the breaker to your mind, and it is dark and empty but for me. My words. My thoughts. My will. Sink. What I want, you want. What I say, you think. You are Daddy's puppy, and a part of me.”

The arm I had wrapped around Scout ran down his big belly, cradling its curve. Stroking his soft, tender underbelly. 

“And when you look at me or even think of me, you know everything you are is in me. Daddy's puppy, that's what you are. Filled by me. Sink. And every time it repeats in your mind, it becomes more true. Daddy's puppy. Filled by Daddy. There to serve, obey, and worship me. Daddy's puppy. Every time those words are in your mind, you feel this good, this fulfilled, this satisfied, to know you're mine, your entire self filled with me.”

As much as I enjoyed brainwashing Scout, I yawned. I was going to pass out soon. Breeding my little pup had taken a lot out of me, it seemed. But there was one thing I had to do first. 

I reached down and touched the his little cocklet, stroking it gently. “Daddy's puppy, and Daddy's little cocklet, to touch or not as I choose. And it feels so good, Daddy touching his cocklet. Daddy controlling his cocklet. Because that's what you are: Daddy's. Daddy's puppy. Sink. And as I touch you, as you cum, you repeat that over and over. Daddy's puppy. Empty of everything but me. Daddy's puppy, Daddy's puppy, Daddy's puppy.”

I stroked his cocklet harder, faster, his breath panting, and in those breaths, I heard it, soft, but there. “Daddy's puppy.”

Then he came, his body bucking even deep in trance, his little cocklet spurting thin preteen cum over my hand. I slowed my strokes until his bucking subsided, then kissed his head softly.

“Good puppy,” I said, though my words started to slur, and I yawned again. “Daddy's puppy.”

*

I was still wrapped around my little pup when I woke. My cock rubbed against his ass, my arm hung over his belly, and my leg covered his. I scrunched down and kissed him on the top of his head, and he looked up. 

“Morning, Daddy,” he said.

“Morning, son,” I said. How long was I out? Some light still streamed around the edge of my curtained window, but from the angle, fuck, it was at least a few hours. 

“No time for round 2 today, looks like,” I said. “Sorry, pup.”

“That's okay, Daddy,” he said wriggling his ass against my cock. “I just enjoyed being held by you.”

Fuck, maybe I'd have to make time. But my stomach rumbled, and eating his ass would not satisfy this hunger. “Good pup.” I stroked the top of his head. “You hungry?”

Scout looked down at his belly—and my hand playing with the soft fat there. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Then you're in charge of the eggs,” I said and lifted my leg off him and rolled out of bed. My back protested as I straightened—damn, I was getting old. But I glanced back at Scout and chuckled, my cock twitching. Not too old to make a fucktoy out of an dumb, eager kid.

I plodded into the hall, and Scout ran past me to the kitchen. The click of his claws stopped as the fridge door whumed open, then closed, and a frying pan clacked against the stove. I turned the corner to that cute little ass of his wagging as he cracked the eggs, and I stopped to admire my little puppy, so happy to please me. To be mine. For as long as I wanted him. 

I just stared at him, smiling, as the sun streamed against my naked body and warmed me. I had installed that large privacy fence just for this reason. And for my hot tub. 

But today, food. I smacked Scout’s ass, and grabbed a full bag of bagels—we were both fat for a reason, and not just because bellies are sexy as hell. I split them and put them in the toaster oven as Scout pinched salt, garlic powder, and pepper on each egg, just like I taught him. 

“Good pup,” I said, wrapping my arm around him to rub his belly. 

“Wruff!” He barked, wagging his ass against my cock, and damn I wished we had time for round two. Next week, though. My pup will keep coming back. If only he could live here, my cock waking up against that beautiful ass every day, working side by side like this as I sliced the cheese. 

But I would never actually compromise my life for another, never bind myself to another. I'll just enjoy this pup now, and pass him onto another Daddy when he's old enough. Trained enough that he'll make a great pup to a Daddy who wants a relationship.

The toaster oven dinged, and I put the cheese on top of the bagels, then checked Scout's eggs. “Looking good, pup. Bring those over here.”

I assembled the sandwiches, and we ate, the savory yolks soaking into the crisp bagels, the splash of ketchup ticking sweet and tart.

“Great job, pup,” I said, stroking his head once again. 

He looked up at me with wide, naively trusting eyes. If only he knew what a depraved pervert I was, heh. 

“I love you so much, Daddy.” his eyes never wavered from mine. “I'm Daddy's puppy.”

“And Daddy loves you, my puppy,” I lied. For it was a lie. I didn't love him—of course not. I was just using him for my perverse pleasure and making sure he got what he wanted, too. It was a purely transactional relationship we had, and if he didn't realise it was, well, I'm not going to feel bad about that. I'm getting my depraved rocks off, breaking these silly rules society makes to keep my primal urges in check—condoms, age of consent, missionary. My needs are stronger than society, and every time I show that, my perverted little heart burst with joy.

That's what the fluttering in my chest was, after all.

I ate the last sandwich—I am bigger than him and a powerlifter, after all. “All right, pup. Time for you to get going.”

He nodded, a little sad. And I was too—I wished I had time to breed that cute little preteen ass disappearing into his jeans as we dressed. Time to rub that belly disappearing under his shirt—though a little belly cleavage peeked out under it. I stroked it, then grabbed his hand and walked him to the door.

“See you next week, Daddy,” he said, his voice slow and sad.

“I'll miss you, pup,” I said, ruffling his head. “But I'll have a big hug and load ready for you.”

“Wruff!” he said, wagging. Then he opened the door and walked out, his footsteps slow. He ambled down my driveway, then turned to look back at me. I waved, a little sad myself that I wouldn't get to see that cute chubby babyface for another week. 

He waved back. Kept waving. Probably couldn't look away, poor kid. 

Blue flashed in the corner of my eye. Some asshole was driving way too fast for this neighborhood, but the kid was safe on my driveway. I wanted to blow a kiss, but if the neighbours saw—

The car jumped the curb, heading straight for Scout. The green and white suburb blurred around me, my powerful legs pumping, hooves slamming against asphalt. Scout's eyes widened, then his head turned and he s