FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The air inside the bunker was stifling. Trent could smell the dry, oily musk scent through his respirator. "This place smells like my dad's old cologne." Said another member of his squad, the nameplate on his thick rubber suit read 'Davis'. "Every time we came home from Sunday dinner we had to crack the windows open because it just flooded the car. You couldn't smell anything else."

"Rough childhood, huh?" said Ackley from the back.

"Oh, shut up." Davis shot back. They filed through the complex slowly, cautiously. Occasionally they would stop so Trent could take a sample of the nesting material that lined the floor. On the northen wall was a faded brass placard reading in bold capital letters: "Ordos Mesmeretica." They were going through an old office. Nothing worth seeing, all that remained were stacks of papers, long since moldered into yellow pulp, a rusted skeleton of a stapler; and a swivel chair that was saturated in fungus. They went on in silence; save for Ackley silently cursing as he fumbled with his headlamp, the pale light flickered from it, before dying out all together.

"Nobody move! I gotta change the batteries out for my light! Ackley said, Trent turned to the wall closest to him and saw a set of claw marks that bit deep into the plaster, exposing bits of concrete and rebar. Smeared on the wall around the gouges were a few dried drops of what he really hoped was not blood. He wouldn't be surprised if it was, given the stories about what happened down there.

Ackley clicked a new lithium cell into his helmet lamp and they went on; Bernhard was in front, holding his shotgun close to him, a scrap of green cloth was wrapped around the butt of the folding wire stock for comfort.

The tile floor was stained so thoroughly that it was impossible to tell what color it once was. Random bits of detritus was strewn everywhere, torn insulation, ruined furniture, dust; disused lab equipment. Davis scratched a bit of paint off the wall, rubbing the faded latex-based stuff between thumb and forefinger of his gloved hand.

Ackley coughed into his respirator and said: "Mr. Bernhard, why do we have to keep coming down here? It hasn't even been a week since our last trip!"

Mr. Bernhard turned around, his barrel-chested frame accentuated by the bulky protective wear.

"The labcoats want a sample. A live specimen." He said. "They gave me a choice between tazer slugs and tranq rounds." He racked the pump on his shotgun, chambering a shell. "I went with tazer. Tranquilizers are too slow. Definitely too slow for the things down here; the..." Trent could practically see his square-shaped face grimace in disgust. "...Mutants."

Davis cracked his knuckles; the deathly quiet of the abandoned complex seemed to amplify the sound. Ackley looked over their squad, counting 2...4...6...8...9 men. Trent saw his soft, freckled face light up with fear, even in the sparse light.

"Guys!" He shouted, his voice echoing in the dusty halls. "We're missing someone!"

Bernhard spun on his heels, looking over the group, his brown eyes twitched back and forth.

"Where the hell is Jackson?!" He said like it was their collective fault he went missing.

Nobody said anything, Davis shrugged, and from the back they heard Vicks flick the safety off his stun pistol.

"Dumb bastard shoulda known the rules" Ackley said to Trent in a low half-whisper. "If we're getting a pay dock for him wandering off, I'm leaving his ass here."

"Squad, spread out!" Bernhard shouted, his gravelly voice echoed across the barren chamber, sending small eddies of dust spiraling to the ground from the walls near him.

"Vicks, Roper. Follow me." Vicks loaded a clip of stun darts into his pistol, racking the slide with his palm. Roper glanced over his shoulder.

"Ackley; you, Davis and Morris are going to check the west tunnel. Everyone else, check the east. Move!" And so Davis and Ackley followed Trent down the dusty, gunmetal gray corridor. Trent looked over his shoulder and watched the pale yellow of the other squad members' headlamps fade into the distance. Davis unholstered his stun pistol as he walked in front, he was the best shot of the three so Trent and Ackley silently agreed to stay close behind him. As they trekked through the dust, Trent kept looking back over his shoulder. It could have been his imagination, but he kept seeing dark shapes, movement punctuated by the sound of fingernails scratching on concrete.

Davis said something, but Trent didn't hear it because out of the corner of his eyes he saw, without a doubt, something moving about twenty or so paces away in a side hallway. It was only in his line of sight for a second, if even that; but he saw it and it was there, not a figment of his imagination. It was gray, a warm gray unlike the corpse-like color of the concrete floor and walls. It was standing upright, like a person; but it had a low, slouching posture. And behind it was what looked like a tail... He couldn't tell for sure because it had disappeared behind a corner with cat-like speed and quiet.

"Got a visual, Morris?" Davis said, startling him with his deep voice.

"I saw someone over there." Trent said as he pointed at the where the thing had been.

Davis raised his stun pistol; even when his hands shaking, he took care to keep his finger off the trigger.

He took slow, deliberate steps forward, taking care not to trip over a ruined office chair that had been left out in the open. Curiously, the hallway was cleaner a little further down, no dust, no trash strewn around. There was a sound like a dog walking across a hardwood floor, a dark, soft-edged shape scuttled across the far end of the room. Even with the headlamp on, he could just make out the vague outline, its legs were long, big feet. Definitely not human.

Davis flattened himself against the doorway; He waved Trent and Ackley over. Ackley took his time coming over, prompting a very dirty look from Davis. Davis turned and peered around the edge of the doorframe, he held his pistol out in one hand, with the other held back at the other two, with three fingers up.

Two...

One...

They rushed in and found an empty room. It looked to be an old examination room, with an adjustable table in the center of the room. Its vinyl upholstery was gashed open, with a clump of rotten memory foam hanging out. The exam light was missing, Trent knew it hadn't been torn out because there was no broken pieces anywhere and the socket where it should have been mounted on the ceiling was intact, no sign of any brute force. Davis turned his attention to a pile of glossy black and yellow rags in the corner like old laundry.

"Shit..." He muttered under his breath as he went over to pick them up; rubber, thick and heavy, identical to their own suits. He turned the scrap over in his hands and saw the white nametag.

"9064 Jackson."

He held it up to the other two men, the reflective white tag beaming in the glow of his headlamp.

"Man down." Ackley muttered.

Trent took out his com radio; one button press extended the antenna, long and black like a spider's leg. Another press set the message to be received by all squad members.

"We have a suit breech in here, exam room 70B. Possible casualty."

There was static, some garbled chatter, then silence. He tried again a couple times, but again all he got was static. He took the radio and slapped it against the wall, but the percussive maintenance changed nothing. He cursed under his breath as he called Bernhard's radio individually.

He finally got a connection, but there was no response, only the sound of dead air and barely audible rustling. Ackley was shaken, pacing about the room and muttering under his breath. Davis remained stone-faced, watching Trent struggle with the radio, nobody else in there squad picked up, until he picked up something from Roper's.

"Roper?" Trent said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice and failing. The voice on the other end was quiet, at first he thought it was another no-go but he quickly caught on that Roper was speaking in a low tone, just loud enough to be understood.

"Morris... We have a situation. Have you found Jackson?"

"We found his suit."

Trent heard Roper curse, and then let out a despaired sigh.

"Leave him. He's infected."

"But..."

"Morris, we've lost Vicks and Bernhard. " Roper said, his voice quivering.

"They hit us from the ceiling. One of them landed on Bernhard and bit through his Kevlar vest. Probably four, five of them. I don't remember, I just ran. When I looked back, they had him pinned down."

There was a second of silence on Roper's end, it felt much longer.

"These things, they're smart. One of them took his shotgun and hit Vicks with a tazer dart as he ran. I looked back and they were tearing his suit apart, tying him up with the strips. We're heading back."

"But what about them..." Trent sputtered.

"They're dead or might as well be..." Roper said, a little louder, Trent could hear him walking somewhere.

"Bernhard's down, I'm taking command. I order you and the rest of the team to meet me at the entry point."

Trent said nothing. Ackley must have listened in because he was making his way back towards the door.

"Did you get in contact with Sunderland the other team?"

"No."

Trent heard Roper curse again.

"When you get to the entry point, call them again. If they don't pick up, leave them."

"But what if..."

"Leave them, Morris. If they don't evacuate, that's their problem. If we get out of here, they'll send a bigger squad. If they're still alive by then, they'll be rescued. If not..."

Trent coughed.

"At least we'll have the bodies for a proper burial."

And Roper broke off. Trent put the radio back in his utility belt.

Davis looked at Trent, his face was stern as ever, but his eyes, his big brown eyes had sadness in them.

"We're leaving them then?" He said.

"Roper's going to ditch us if we don't."

Davis turned his head down, muttered what Trent thought was the words "Yellow bastard" and followed Ackley and Trent out. Nobody spoke as they trudged on, nothing to say. Until, Davis told them to stop.

"Do you hear that?" He said in a half-whisper.

Ackley shrugged.

"Hear what?" Trent said.

"I thought I heard a voice. Like, not words but just a voice."

The other two stared at Davis blankly.

"Forget it."

After a few miserable minutes of walking, with nothing but the sound of their footsteps and the gray nothing illuminated by their lights, they were back where they started. Roper was on the far side of the room, his back was turned to them, and he was holding his arm.

Davis called out to him and Roper took his time in responding. He swiveled around and floated like a zombie a few steps closer. His visor was scratched, badly, but still intact.

Davis lowered his pistol, breaking into a brisk jog as he went to meet up with what could very likely be the only other survivor.

"Roper!" Davis shouted to him like he was an old friend in a busy airport. Roper said nothing, still standing there holding the sleeve of his suit.

"Roper what's wrong? Is your suit torn?"

Roper didn't answer Davis.

"I thought they got you for a second." Davis said. "Let's clear out, we can get you patched up at medical."

"They did."

Davis stopped in his tracks. Roper had an odd look in his eyes, distant and glassy, like he was drunk or in a trance.

"They got me, Davis. I thought I got away but I didn't"

Ackley let out a sound that was halfway between a cough and a nervous laugh.

Davis was about to say something, he gritted his teeth and opened his mouth, making the beginnings of a statement, but he was silence when Roper took his arm away from his sleeve. There, where he was clutching his arm, was a big gash in his suit, slicked with blood, his skin bearing a ring of oozing teeth marks.

Davis cursed. Ackley let out a yelp like a dog being kicked and backpedaled towards Trent, who had kept his distance on what his hindsight assumed was instinct that something was wrong. Roper took another step forward; their lights caught his face, revealing that it was 'off'. The proportions of his nose and jaw line were not as they were; they were definitely longer, with grayish-brow hairs dappling his face. Roper made a high, squealing cry and out from the darkness beyond the remnants of the hazmat team's lights was a rolling wave of gray.

Davis could barely react before a huge beast surged out in front of the pack and knocked him to the ground with a swing of its arm. His mask's visor shattered on impact, the reinforced plastic glittering in the light. Finally, they knew what they were sent down to find. The beasts were like something out of a storybook; half-man, half-rat. They were all very well built, with long legs, short fur pulled taut over wiry musculature, long yellow teeth.

Ackley fell next, being tackled from behind by a she-rat, or so Trent assumed by the shape of the hips.

Trent saw as they ripped the suits from the two screaming men, how fast they were. He couldn't possibly run from them. He saw Davis's stun pistol on the ground, having landed just a single pace away from him, and he didn't feel so hopeless. He grabbed the gun and fired a shot in the general direction of one of the larger males. The dart sparked bright blue as it hit the wall, having missed by just enough to get the mutant to flinch. It wasn't much of a distraction but he took it, he bolted towards the exit.

In the heat of the moment, he must have misjudged his surroundings because he ended up in a dead end, with a gray featureless wall staring him down. His heart felt like it was about to beat itself to death in his chest. He heard one of the things behind him. He turned and saw its dark little eyes glow hungrily as it moved towards him. He raised the pistol and squeezed the trigger. No way to miss.

No way to miss the shot.

But it jammed. The dart's propellant failed and it stalled just a millimeter clear of the barrel. It would have taken just an instant to clear the jam, but he didn't have an instant. The rat-man leapt on Trent and thrust something... it felt to him like a needle, in his neck. Before any pain could process in his mind, he had lost consciousness.

He awoke sometime later to the sensation of leather on his wrists, metal on his neck. He opened his eyes groggily and found it hard to turn his head. He was pulled to his knees by one of the rat-men, a big black thing with scarred ears, by a leash attached to the metal collar he was now wearing. His hands were bound by a brown leather strap, like a belt.

His mask was gone, as was his utility belt and all his tools. The zip on the front of his suit was left undone. He turned his head as best as he could, given the stainless still ring clasped tight around his neck, and saw he was in a containment cell, metal door with a bulletproof glass window, and white tile walls which were remarkably kept spotless. Trent's captor ran a clawed hand through his brown hair; the rat was gentle with him, almost affectionate. The rat-man wrinkled its snout in what he assumed was a smile just as the door swung open.

In walked a stunning creature. She was a rat hybrid much like the rest, but she was taller, quite a bit over six feet; with a set of curves that flowed perfectly into toned muscle, her soft fur was stark white. She took him by the neck, stroking his chin with her clawed fingers.

"Hello, little pet..." She said, her voice was condescending and yet soft, sultry, inviting.

"I'm Mistress Ra, your rat queen."

His rat queen? He struggled a bit as the guard pushed him down into a kneeling position.

"Welcome to our little piece of paradise."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she anticipated and spoke first.

"Don't worry about your hazmat team. They're already well underway. You're probably wondering where your mask went."

Trent glared at her and struggled against the leather strap binding his wrists. It was painfully tight, not budging the slightest.

"That's right cutie, you're infected..." She said, caressing his cheek like a mother.

"There's no saving you now." Sure enough, Trent could feel something in him, a hot soreness like one would expect from a fever. It began in his belly, being the most intense there, and flowed into his limbs and up his chest. He was itchy all over, and it was an odd itch, like the feeling of insects crawling on him.

Ra took his leash and coaxed him up to his feet, leading him to a modified exam chair. The steel armature and black vinyl cushioning was standard, but there was a hole in the back cut to accommodate the creatures' long tails. A head set consisting of a visor and bulky noise-cancelling headphones was connected to the chair by a long, jointed arm. Two of the rat guards playfully tore his suit and undergarments off, leaving him naked and helpless. One of them gave his buttocks a firm squeeze. The sensation of being so powerless, so completely at the mercy of these brutes gave him the most shameful feelings of excitement. It was wrong, he knew it, but he couldn't deny the adrenaline rush through his veins. They un-collared him and took his leather bindings off, letting him see the red, angry marks left on his wrists.

"Just let it happen..." Ra cooed, somehow sensing his excitement and the revulsion that came with it.

She pointed at one of the guards. "Boys, strap him in."

They lifted him up onto the seat of the conditioning chair and held him down as they fastened the black, synthetic leather restraints on his wrists, ankles, neck. He pulled up and away, but they were designed to hold someone or something much stronger than him, so his thrashing was reduced to a pathetic wiggle, eliciting a laugh from Ra.

"Oh he's so cute." Ra cooed as they rubbed a wad of gauze soaked with antiseptic gel on his neck, it was so cold to the touch, and yet pleasant, he could feel little slivers of fur pushing up from his pores. It was terribly itchy, but a thought appeared in his head, unsolicited; of him having a beautiful coat of fur. Maybe Ra was planting the idea in his head. Maybe not. He felt the cold sting of a needle in his neck, followed by a haze that blanketed his consciousness.

"This is just a little something to help you through." The rat guard whispered into his ear, in a voice that reminded him of Davis.

He knew he was infected, changing, but that didn't explain why they all obeyed Ra. She was intimidating, sure but there had to be something else. The guards lowered the headset on him, adjusting the head phones so they fit just right. It muffled his hearing but he could just make out what Ra was saying.

"What a catch this one was. He's going to make a nice little slut for my empire." He blushed, it could have been the mutagen, but he registered that as a compliment. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, being used as breeding stock until he figured out a way to escape.

"His leader probably has the codes for the lock. Wonder if this little buck knows how to break into the climate control systems.,,"

He tried to listen in a little more, but the visor whirred to life in a whirlwind of colors; red, vermillion, violet, teal, goldenrod, all spiraling through his eyes, into his mind. He almost didn't notice Ra taking him by the neck as she leaned over his prone form, planting a wet kiss on his lips, her whiskers tickling him. Her front teeth clicked against his own growing incisors.

A voice, her voice, flowed from the headphones. Ra was whispering to him in such a sweet way, like a velvet glove massaging his cortex.

"Relax and listen."

He pulled on his restraints one last time.

"You are relaxing and listening."

He went limp as the seat folded back at the press of a switch, now he was laying flat on his back; Ra was petting him, rubbing his belly like a house cat as his fur grew in. It was turning a soft white on his belly and chest. His fingernails had grown out into sharp claws, he dug them into the vinyl padding of the conditioning chair as the device directly stimulated the pleasure centers of his brain in time with the voice's statements.

"With every passing second, you feel your will melting away."

The visor beamed an image into his mind as Ra's voice spoke through the headphones. He saw Jackson in his final moments as a human; how he was taken from behind and bitten on the neck. How the rat peeled his suit off with almost passionate abandon. He saw Jackson change before his eyes into a black-and-white hooded rat, hooked to a conditioning machine like his own. Trent groaned in pleasure as his fur finished growing in nice and velvety, his jaw was pushing out into a rounded muzzle, whiskers twitching as he smelt the air, new scents greeting him. Mostly he smelt the pheromones that emanated from Ra like an aura. The smell hooked into his mind, carving a subconscious image of her as alpha female, pack leader, mother and mistress.

His feet grew out into large, powerful paws, with the big toe on both feet growing into an opposable digit, perfect for climbing. His fur was now fully grown in, such a rich shade of brown, with a cute white belly. His once unremarkable physique now resembled the body of a dancer. Lithe and agile, toned yet light muscle. A malleable mind in a strong body, the program was licking away at his mind's defenses. He knew, deep down that it was wrong, that he should have fought back, but he was changing. They wouldn't take him back if he escaped, Ra was his mistress, his queen now, and the rats were his family.

"Walk through the red metal door, I am your Queen your Goddess. "

How he wanted to be let loose from the device. Trent's changing body squirmed in his restraints, his tail now extending well past the hole cut in the back of the chair for it. If he could just stand up and have the chance to talk with Ra, to know more about her; this transition into his adoptive world would be more bearable. To know her, how she expected him to serve her, he starved for answers in that moment.

"Pass through the orange door. You know me as your duty to your queen, you desire to serve me. Your will to action is changed by my being. You exist for my pleasure and to worship me and my body. Serve my being and I will allow your needs to be met often and fully. Be free, my child; accept and adore your queen. Envy her and obey her for she is wise beyond imagining."

He really did feel safer than when he was with the hazmat team. Trent had not been killed or brought to grievous harm, neither had his squad mates. The rats had known to repurpose the equipment for their ends, and Ra did very much carry an air of affection, of grace. Even as he laid there, his bones groaning in protest at his reshaping, she was touching him. She playfully slapped his nethers with her tail, the sting of the impact and the aching that followed added a texture, a depth to her ministrations; how she would stroke the soft, milk colored, velour-like fur growing from his belly and inner thigh. The way she stroked and lovingly nibbled on his growing rodent-like ears reminded him of just how much she had gotten into his head already.

"Pass through the yellow door, I'm your love for your queen you desire her to have a full and healthy life. You without worry or condition love and serve your rat goddess, it feels right in your heart and you are loved and love all who share in my worship. You submit to her will and obey, it feels wonderful."

Ra's whispering came in from left, no...right... Trent tried to shut it out but every word he blocked twelve more slithered in and inseminated his mind. He wondered if there was even much point to fighting, since it felt so good... when this was over he could groom Ra's fur, pamper her tail... Oh no, that was the programming talking. It wasn't Trent, but it also very much was. It was already inside, seeding him with the mental framework of his new life and identity. The best he could hope for now is that he would be treated well in whatever role he was going to fill.

"Pass through the teal door. I am your communication with your queen and mistress; you will be completely honest with how you feel and your thought. You know this; you have been here before don't you, my lovely little servant? I miss and adore your ideas to make the hive better make them known, I adore you."

He had indeed been there before. But he hadn't. Trent was sure this was trickery, but it all really did feel familiar, and right. There was an idea planted in him now; that all his life was leading up to this. It was his destiny to be rescued...taken by Ra and her nest. His body shook in pleasure, how much of a relief it would be to finally open up to Ra, and share his thoughts.

"Pass through the blue door. I am your thoughts, and they are filled with images of you serving your mistress in a outfit of her choosing a simple suit, a maid outfit, how can I serve my rat queen; When, where? Anything I can attribute to my mistress and submit my mind to them. Her words are my thoughts my will is her will, I serve and I obey. I am her loyal and obedient slave."

He shuddered as he pictured himself in a little French maid uniform. He could feel the silken frills of the black dress, the nylon stockings hugging his muscular legs. How cute he looked, cleaning up after Ra; sweeping the floors of her chambers, cooking her meals and tending to her every desire and need. His fur bristled with pleasure at the image of this life of servitude to a creature as magnificent as her, and the whispers of the program became his thoughts.

"You are one of us."

_ "You serve the queen."_

"I serve the queen."

"Service is bliss, bliss is being."

"Bliss is being, being is service"

"Your freedom is through obedience"

"Through obedience to her I am set free."

"Your body is property of Mistress Ra."

"It is a thrill to serve our nest. We love our queen. All we know is her love."

He could see Bernhard changing, two big does kissing and caressing him as he grew into a strong male specimen, more muscular than he was even as a human. He stood and flexed his arms, his tail twitching.

He saw Ackley already almost fully changed, taking to the mutagen very quickly as his freckled skin disappeared up a coat of white fur with red spots. Roper was seated right next to him, a little further along than Ackley was.

And then, Trent saw himself, he saw himself as a little pink-skinned baby cradled in Ra's arms. Blind and helpless, he whimpered in tune with the baby. Ra stroked his head as he nursed on her ample bosom. The sweet milk... the mother of the nest, mistress and queen.

"We love her, she serves us."

His whole back shuddered in delight as his tail sprouted from his lower back. Vertebrae popping into their right and proper place. He was almost disappointed when the feelings went away as his tail finished growing out. It was a powerful, beautiful thing, soft and velvety smooth to the touch, another gift from Ra.

The visions of the visor faded to black, the guard rats unfastened Trent's restraints and helped him up. His transformation was complete, having become a gorgeous specimen of a rat hybrid. His dark-colored eyes met Ra's own, and he took short, shuddering steps towards her before falling to his hands and knees. Tears streamed down his snout; his mind was shaken by a feeling of both joy and unbearable guilt. He had come there on a mission to harm her and her kind, and through her own grace he was saved from himself.

Ra looked down and gave him a warm little smile. "You look lovely, my little pet." She said.

Trent looked up at her like a lovesick puppy, so much he wanted to say and yet he knew not where to begin. The words caught in his throat and all he could manage was three words:

"I love you."

Ra knelt down and scratched behind his ear.

"I know." She whispered. And he savored the contact, wanting more. He looked down at her feet, how beautifully shaped they were, delicately curvy yet strong. Ra understood well what his unspoken request was.

"You may."

"Thank you, my queen." And so he began his first act of service to his queen, he took her foot in his hand and gave it a reverent kiss. Ra leaned back against the wall and stuck her foot in his face, biting her lip as Trent licked the sole of her exquisitely soft foot. Every so often, Ra would switch feet and Trent would obediently carry on. His licking segued into kissing her sole, her dainty toes, her ankles. He put his nose to her feet and took in her scent, so rich and earthy. What an honor this was, to serve his mistress so intimately, and so soon after his transformation. The sensory pleasures of his worshipping weighed down on his mind; he lost himself in his service and it became a mindless ritual for him like how a dog loses its discipline when it sees its master coming through the door. After a while, she pulled away, standing over him. He silently stared up at her anticipating her next command.

"That'll do nicely, pet." She cooed. His heart swelled, he had done so well in serving her. Ra looked at Trent's bare neck; there was still a little ways to go before this specimen could be truly one of her pack. She looked over at the two guards. "Boys, our little pet here is underdressed."

They nodded and picked Trent up by his arms and led him into a side room. Inside, there were many racks of clothing in neat rows; suits, dresses, leotards, lingerie, and various and sundry other garments. Trent idly felt a silk coat, savoring the feel of the delicate fabric on his thumb and forefinger. The guards wasted little time in picking out and assembling an outfit. They started with the collar; a simple black leather one with rounded brass studs. Trent stuck his neck out straight for the guards to slip it on. When he felt the brass clasp fasten on his neck, it was like a medal being pinned on his coat. A symbol of devotion he could be proud of. For modesty, the guards presented him with a pair of tight leather shorts, the same glossy black as his collar.

He nodded in gratitude and took them. He put them out without a second's hesitation, expecting them to be tighter on his hips than they turned out to be. Either they were more flexible or they were just his size because the fit was perfect; the soft, supple leather hugging his hips and shapely butt. He gave the guards a silent bow of appreciation, and headed out to show Mistress Ra. Ra broke into a glinting smile when she saw him in his tight leathers. "Oh you've cleaned up wonderfully, my pet." She said, circling around him, checking him out, especially his sizeable bulge.

She stopped in front of him, looking him in the eyes like a hungry shark. "Are you ready to begin your life of duty to your queen and your nest?" She asked.

"I am ready and willing." Trent said; no small amount of pride showing in his voice.

She ran her hand over his broad shoulder.

"Are you willing to do anything I ask of you?"

"I will do anything to please my mistress and queen."

She caressed his chin.

"Anything?"

"Yes, my queen."

She scratched his chin with her long claws; he could feel her breath on his nose.

"I've got something for you to do, then." She said, looping a finger around his collar and pulling him after her as she walked.

They made their way to her bedchamber. It was a lavish setup with a large, round bed in the center fitted with velour sheets and covered in an assortment of pillows, beside was an oak nightstand with a bottle of wine set down on it next to a set of crystal glasses. There was a medicine shelf repainted and repurposed into a bookcase lined with fat hardcover tomes. Ra shut and locked the door behind him as he checked the place out. The lights were warmer and more rustic that the harsh whiteness of the rest of the complex. They walked over an intricately patterned wool rug until they reached her bed, where she promptly grabbed the scruff of his neck and bent him over it.

"It's time for your initiation, cutie." Ra said.

Before he could respond, she lashed him square on the behind with her whip-like tail. He hissed and clenched his teeth; with the pain he felt pleasure. The joy of being struck by her, and the release of the guilt he had felt from his former life.

With a graceful turn of her hips, she lashed him again, harder. He let out a strained groan as the impact echoed in his nerves. Another lash and he was biting the covers, shuddering, begging for more through his teeth. He was feeling an ecstasy that was until then foreign to him, punishment and pleasure in the same act.

"You're a naughty little cur, aren't you?" Ra hissed as she delivered upon his rump two strikes in rapid succession, he cried out begging for more, grinding his pelvis against the side of the bed.

"Hit me again. Punish me like I deserve, my queen!"

She spoke into his ear "What does a slave say to his queen?"

"Please punish me, my queen. I deserve no less."

She obliged him with a round of three consecutive lashes, harder than before. His nerves were white-hot, colored specks dancing in his clenched-shut eyes. As she saw Trent shuddering, clutching at the bedspread in his claws, Ra let out a chuckle fit for a noblewoman, high and breathy.

"Please...." Trent moaned. "Punish me harder. Your slave deserves it."

Ra's ears perked up.

"I don't have many pets that ask for more punishment." She said. "You're going to be a fun one to have around."

And so, she gave him an especially hard lash, his whole body quaked under the rush of pain that came with it, the adrenaline rush.

Ra took a deep breath, looked at her anticipating slave, and thought of a number.

Five? Too light.

Ten? No. Fifteen.

She let him precisely what he wanted, striking him again and again, making sure he felt it harder each time as she silently kept count. The fifth blow landed on his legs, making him kick a bit as he squealed, he was breathing like he was running a marathon, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as he panted and huffed.

By the tenth lash, his composure broke even more, yelling like a kicked dog, prompting her to slap him.

"Slave doesn't have permission to cry." She hissed in his ear.

He gurgled out the first half of the first word of an apology before she whipped him again. His vision was a blur, tears streaked down his muzzle. He stuck his rear out a bit and she continued after a moment to catch his breath.

The twelfth lash made Trent wonder if he was bleeding; he could see it in his mind, a thin string of deep red running down the back of his legs, staining his fur. Ra was laughing quite madly now.

Thirteen, fourteen fifteen. She had lost count, deciding to just lay into him until she got tired of it, he was biting down on a round velvet throw pillow to keep from crying out, but a strained whimper got out regardless, his nose was running, the pain had dulled the world around him until all he saw was deep red inside his shut eyes and the rhythm wap wap wap of Ra's tail administering sweet discipline.

Then Ra stopped, breathing deeply through her mouth, her tail was sore from the spanking. She looked over her slave. Trent was a quivering wreck, groaning her name through his clenched teeth, pleading her not to hold back for his sake. A grape-colored bruised was visible on his upper thighs beneath his fur.

She laid herself down onto the mattress beside him; he gazed at her pitifully, like a scared kitten. Ra put her arms around him and drew him into a tight embrace. She gave him a quick kiss on the forehead and calm fell over his body.

"Has my queen wasted her strength on me?" He said pitifully.

"No, pet. I am very much pleased with your service. "

Trent's heart soared, but he still ached all over. At least Ra's compliment made it all worth it. Ra ran her fingers through the fur on his shoulders as he nuzzled her chin. Their tails intertwined, Ra rubbed his posterior, doing much to alleviate the lingering pain Trent felt. She gave him a light peck on the nose and he chirred softly.

Ra yawned and leaned back on the bed. Trent couldn't help but stare at her for a moment, her pearly white fur shone like snow.

"You've worn me out, pet. Tomorrow, you'll groom my fur." She said softly.

"I will be more than happy to, my queen."

"Then," she said, caressing his chest, "If you have done a good job, I'll think of something _special_for you to do."

"Thank you so much, my queen."

She kissed him again, on the mouth this time.

"Go to sleep, cutie. That's my last order for the day." And like a good little rat, Trent crawled to the foot of the bed on his hands and knees, curled up in a ball at his mistress's feet, and shut his eyes.