Akira’s first mistake is accepting the job in the first place.
At first glance, it's a simple ‘gimme’ mission: just another rich old white person trying to increase her funds by “losing” a few pricey artifacts and getting twice their worth in insurance payouts. The client didn’t appear unusual, either—starched white blouse and cardigan, gelled greying hair, sleek silver watch that make Akira’s fingers itch—but she has a manic gleam in her eye as she hands over the file, a little too filled with childish excitement at the prospect of a ‘real life heist’, even if it is orchestrated for insurance purposes. It doesn’t matter how much Akira had coaxed and wheedled, pointing out that ‘real heists’ didn’t usually involve fancy spy gadgets or acrobatic laser dodging.
Unsurprisingly for any grossly wealthy person, the mansion’s security system is excessive, complete with cameras everywhere, armed guards with 24/7 rotating schedules, laser trip wires, a three meter, spike-topped iron fence built around the whole perimeter, and well-trained guard dogs patrolling the perimeter at scheduled intervals.
What, is she prepping for the zombie apocalypse? Akira wonders sourly to themselves as they scanned the file. It's hard not to feel more than a bit frustrated, considering what the client is demanding. The woman had seen too many action movies, asking that Akira, by themselves, sneak in unnoticed, steal a number of trinkets and jewels from the heavily guarded “treasure room” hidden in the mansion, and escape without notice.
“I don’t mind if you take a little extra,” the client says, winking and giggling like a schoolgirl. “I know this is quite the feat. Consider it an extra bonus.”
If you know it’s going to be difficult, why not just decrease security instead of offering shit I can’t pawn off easily? Old hag.
The client’s electronic security system has a routine maintenance twice a year. In the span of forty-five minutes, the system would be down, with system updates and bug fixes applied. Akira, small as they are, must slip in through a tiny, barely visible gap through the iron fence, avoid the armed guards and dogs, and enter through a window on the first floor that will be “accidentally” cracked open.
From there, they must make their way to the “treasure room”. The room’s laser sensors will be cut for a brief thirty seconds as the system updates, in which Akira must grab several specific jewels before moving back to the first room. They will leave through the same window and make their way back across the grounds to the hole in the fence. The following day, before noon, they will leave town and stay at a nice hotel for a week.
The plan is, of course, far too dependent on minuscule windows of time, with far too few decent escape routes. Akira is good at what they do, of course, but there wasn’t enough room for error in the plan the client had presented. It seems that Akira’s excellent reputation made them, to this client, some sort of of Harry Houdini-level escape artist. Despite working with high-end clients for years, Akira still fails to understand the mindsets of the wealthy. What matters most, however, is the eight hundred and fifty thousand dollar commission that the lady offers, and so Akira accepts, unable to resist the thought of all that they could do with that money.
That's the first mistake. The second mistake is dismissing the dogs.
It isn’t that the client didn’t warn Akira, just as she’d warned them about the guards packing clubs and tasers. But the dogs are ‘special’. “They’re bred and trained for perfection,” she says, almost preening. “Genetically engineered by the best scientists money can buy for speed, strength, intelligence, and aggression.” Apparently, the client thinks that several well-trained dogs that are smart enough to patrol the grounds themselves is a “better investment” than just hiring more human guards.
Akira smiles and nods. “I’ll keep that in mind, Ma’am,” they say, but they struggle not to roll their eyes. All dog owners, even rich ones who raise guard dogs instead of family pets, adore their animals to a fault. Akira doubts the dogs are truly so special. Unlike humans, dogs can be fooled with free food spiked with tranquilizers, or silenced with tasty toys and treats. This part of the heist, at least, will be easy.
Or so they thought, but staring down at the enormous, hulking beasts patrolling the mansion, Akira wishes they had put a little more planning into bypassing the animal security.
They look like demons, Akira thinks. The dogs are a deep, glossy black, with brown noses and paws and cropped, pinprick ears like horns. Akira would almost think of them as beautiful if the dogs weren’t likely to maul them if they got too close.
They have to move quickly so the dogs fall asleep at nearly the same time. Taking careful aim, they hurry past the dogs at the perimeter, just out of sight from cameras human guards, tossing in laced chunks of meat before the dogs can start barking too loudly. Dogs one through seven all scramble for the meat chunks, swallowing them down whole and licking their muzzles. They aren’t knocked out right away—the tranquilizers take at least twenty minutes to take effect—but before the dogs can growl at them or whine for more, Akira is already gone, only staying long enough to see them eat the chunks.
The eighth dog is different.
When Akira tosses the chunk, it sails in a perfect arc, landing a meter in front of the dog. This Great Dane looks a little different; its eyes are an odd, bright yellow, and it’s huge. Akira is sure that if they stood next to it, the dog’s head would reach their stomach.
Instead of scrambling for it like the others, the dog simply cocks its head and pads over to the chunk, sniffling curiously. Instead of eating, it lifts its head, ears flicking. Akira freezes, brow furrowing as its eyes turn towards them, unable to break their gaze from the glint of those yellow eyes. For a long moment, Akira thinks the dog has spotted them.
Slowly, the dog lowers its head, picks the meat up in its mouth, and walks away. Akira waits, listening to their thrumming heartbeat.
Just a dog, they tell themselves. They can’t dwell on it. There’s only so much time before the system goes down.
The last two dogs are much the same as the eighth, which is horrible for Akira’s nerves. Worse still, both turn towards Akira, and their glowing yellow eyes send shivers down Akira’s spine. Like the eighth, they pick up the meat gently and walk away. Akira doesn’t wait to watch them eat—the tranquilizers should be strong enough to take them out for an hour even without them swallowing the whole chunk.
Akira moves to the hole in the fence and waits for the rest of the time to run down.
Miraculously, the rest of the heist goes fairly smoothly. The hole in the fence is tight, just two bars that are set a little wider apart and barely bent enough to allow Akira to squeeze through, but that’s to be expected—if it was too too big, security would notice and alert the old lady before closing it off. Thankfully, Akira’s always been small, and although it’s a harrowing twenty-second squeeze where their hips almost get stuck, they manage.
It’s a closer call when one guard strolls around the corner as Akira's clambering in through the window, but again, it seems luck is on Akira’s side tonight. The guard only hesitates for a moment at the noise before moving on, and Akira moves on to the “treasure room”.
Said room is, of course, utterly obnoxious in its showmanship. What does this lady even do with so much jewelry? Akira wonders, eyes scanning the display-lined walls. They don’t have much time to judge, but even as they’re scrambling to pack the assigned strings of sapphires and a few handfuls of pearls just in case, they can’t help but scoff a bit at the velvet-lined cases and miniature spotlights.
They make it out the door, closing it behind them. Not a moment to lose—they can hear the electronic whir of the security systems coming back online from behind the closed door.
From there, it’s a quick walk back to the room with the window. Akira does a quick survey out the window before clambering through and creeping back through the grounds, shielded by the scattered trees and flowering bushes.
Akira is almost to the hole in the fence when the rest of their luck runs out.
They’re peeking out from behind a large bush. The fence is in sight, about ten meters away across a clearing of low, manicured bushes. All it should take is a quick run through the open grass, and—
A deep, rumbling growl sounds from behind them. Akira doesn’t think, doesn’t cry out, just throws themselves forward and sprints across the grass, heartbeat thumping wildly in their ears. There’s a sharp snapping noise as the dog lunges forward, just barely missing Akira by an inch. They don’t dare look back, they have to get to the hole quick and squeeze through. As they clear a cluster of bushes, another black blur appears at the corner of their eye, then another. Now there are three.
Terror burns in their lungs, bright and hot, driving them forward faster than they knew they could run. They make it to the hole in the fence and throw themselves at the hole, trinkets first, then arms, then head, then—
This time, Akira isn’t so lucky.
Before they can wriggle their whole upper half through, the three dogs collide with the fence. Akira thrashes, barely stifling a screech as three enormous hounds surround them, growling and snapping viciously at their lower half. Akira freezes, delirious with fear. There are brief, scrabbling paws and the brush of sharp teeth on Akira’s lower half. Akira jolts as the teeth graze the tight cloth stretched across their abdomen, nearly wetting themselves with a terrified sob.
Then it stops. Akira doesn’t move, breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. There’s an odd sensation of shuffling feet on the ground near their legs, and then a snuffling. One of the dogs makes an odd chuffing noise, and the other two join in before all three dogs fall silent.
With their heart in their throat, Akira chances a glance back. The dogs appear more monstrous so close up, each glossy and bulky with muscle. All three pairs of glowing eyes are fixating on… something near Akira’s lower half, snuffling with a sharp-eyed curiosity. Akira’s mind searches wildly for a solution. Maybe if they’re fast enough, they can yank the rest of themselves through? Or maybe if they hold still enough, the dogs will get bored and go away? Maybe—
There’s a wet nose pressing hard into Akira’s crotch, and they gasp, flinching. “Wha—”
The dog is so enormous, its snout shoves them through the hole in the fence, lodging their hips firmly between the two bars. There’s a strangle scuffle as the other two dogs try to shove each other out of the way, snapping at each other, until finally the scuffling stops. Akira feels the sudden vibration of two heavy thumps as two of the dogs sit, flanking Akira. When Akira cranes their head back carefully, they find, glowing eyes fixated on Akira’s face, as if they're waiting.
Then the dog behind them opens its maw, heavy pants loud in Akira’s ears.
Akira’s third mistake, it seems, is that they should have worn thicker clothing.
There’s a sudden nip, then almost painful pressure on their thighs. The subsequent loud rip jolts them out of their frozen state, and they panic as torn fabric falls around their knees, trying to kick out, flinching with a barely-concealed scream. The dog behind them growls and jolts forward, teeth latching on the flesh of their ass, hard enough to leave marks but not enough to pierce the skin. Akira freezes again, lower lip trembling, tears spilling hot down their cheeks, as the dog continues tearing at the cloth covering Akira’s ass, until their skin is fully exposed to the chilly air.
The dog noses forward again, snuffling Akira’s now-bare crotch. “Oh, god,” they whisper. “No no no, bad dog, don’t do that—”
The dog ignores them. Instead, its tongue rolls out, and Akira jolts in revulsion, nearly retching as the flat, floppy tongue rolls from their clit to their puckered asshole. Its tongue keeps lapping, drooling saliva all over their crotch, and they hold back a gag.
It’ll stop soon. Just wait for it to stop.
The dog keeps going, its breath hot on their skin. Akira waits, and waits, and waits, refusing to acknowledge the way slick—saliva, it’s just saliva, it’s not mine—has started to drip in thin strands from their pussy.
Finally, the dog pulls back, and Akira goes limp, muscles aching from holding themselves tense for so long. The relief is short-lived; suddenly, there’s a crushing weight on Akira’s back, and they wheeze as the breath is knocked from their lungs. The dog is mounting them.
Akira jerks at the scrabble of claws at their hips that yanks them backwards, yelping in pain as the dog thrusts its hips wildly, leaving thin red lines on their thighs. It’s huge and only a portion of Akira’s body is accessible, so the dog is near vertical, upper body hunched slightly as its paws find a grip on their waist. The hard tip of the dog’s cock slips up and down the soft skin of Akira’s thighs, leaving sticky trails that dry cool on their skin.
It won’t happen, Akira tells themselves desperately. It’s not smart enough, just let it hump you until it’s done—
There’s a low huff, and then the dog adjusts its stance. Its cock slides roughly against their cunt, the shaft grinding against their saliva-slick folds and catching across Akira’s swollen clit. Akira jerks, trying to hold in a shudder of revulsion and disbelief. The dog thrusts once, twice, three times against Akira’s clit, and then—and then—
The hard tip catches against their hole. Akira’s eyes widen. They freeze, unable to breathe as the head slips inside, tapered shaft pressing in and stretching their cunt open. The dog’s cock is big, spreading Akira’s hole obscenely, straining their folds around its girth.
The dog doesn’t waste any time once it’s in. With its front legs wrapped securely at Akira’s hips, it starts thrusting, hunching its hips hungrily. Akira can’t make a sound, too shocked to respond to the rough thrusts. It’s… fucking me. A dog is fucking me.
Their head swims, vision blurring as the dog pants overhead. Any pain is distant now, thrumming in the background. Their disbelief bleeds into numbness until they’re floating, almost disconnected from their body but for the feral humping at their back.
Akira is brought sharply back down when the dog pauses. At first, Akira braces themselves with a wince, preparing for the sharp pain of the dog’s knot. The Great Dane’s hind legs shift on the ground beside their knees, almost antsy. It thrusts once, almost tentative, then shifts again.
Akira gasps, clenching around the cock’s girth as the head slides down sharply against their g-spot. There’s a strange, almost satisfied sounding huff, and then the dog starts thrusting again, rougher this time.
Terror boils in the pit of their stomach. No no no no. With the way the dog is angled, its shaft slides perfectly, horribly, against their g-spot with each thrust. This time, arousal builds in their gut sharp and fast. Soon, to Akira’s shame, the dogs’ heavy panting is accompanied by a soft squelching. Akira’s face burns at the sound, unable to stop the sweet clench of their pussy as the dog fucks in and out.
Somehow, they find their voice. “Haah—get off,” they manage, voice shaking. “Get—nngh.” It’s no use. The dog keeps thrusting, cock plunging deep. In fact, the dog seems to speed up with a strange cross between a huff and a growl, and Akira shudders at the feral grind, cunt pulsing faster and faster.
The dog’s cock expands inside them, stretching their pussy taut, and Akira whimpers. Its head comes to rest at the tight clutch of their cervix, narrow tip pressing into the pucker with each deep shove. Akira can feel the base of the dog’s cock expanding rapidly as it fucks into them. The slick noises of their pussy are so loud. Their lower lip trembles in shame. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—not from a dog—
The other dogs’ gazes bore into their skull. The knot locks inside, tip pressing sharp against the roof of their cunt, almost painful, and then the dog starts cumming. Akira jerks, gasping as molten heat splashes against their walls, trapped deep by the knot. Even stuck inside, the dog keeps thrusting, its knot continuing to expand right over their g-spot, and they can’t stop it.
Akira’s eyes roll back as they cum, pussy twitching around the dog’s knot. It won’t stop rolling its hips, knot pressing harder against their sweet spot, and they whine, feet curling inwards inside their boots.
It won’t stop coming, Akira thinks, delirious. The dog’s cum is hot, filling their cunt, and they wince as the pressure sends slight cramps through their abdomen. One of the dogs at their shoulders huffs in their ear and licks their cheek.
Finally, the knot goes down and the dog slips out. It licks at the thin cuts on Akira’s thighs and waist. Akira exhales as their head clears, face burning as cum spills warm and sticky down their legs.
The force of the dog’s thrusts had dislodged their hips from the hard iron bars slightly. If Akira just angles their body correctly, they can slip out, but when they try, one of the dogs snaps at them, teeth inches from their abdomen. “Okay,” Akira tries, voice trembling, “you’ve had your fun. Now—ah, no!”
Behind Akira, another dog is raising onto its hind legs, slipping its paws around their waist. Akira thrashes, trying to dislodge the dog, but the other two Great Danes snarl, baring their teeth, and Akira stops moving and lets their head fall, holding in a sob. The second dog’s cock, bigger this time, slides in easily and stretches their sore, still-pulsing lips open.
Like the first, the second dog doesn’t hesitate. It’s rougher, thick cock bullying its way past the sore folds of their cunt and stretching them wide. The friction almost hurts, but not quite; it's just enough to send sparks of sensation with each thrust. Akira is still richly slippery from the first dog’s cum and their own slick, and it makes the second dog’s cock slide smoothly against all their sweet spots.
It doesn’t feel good, Akira tells themselves, breath coming sharp and fast. Their pussy sounds wetter than before, the filthy sounds echoing across the empty grounds. I’m too sore, it hurts too much, I won’t come again—
To Akira’s horror, the second dog mimics the first, shifting its hind legs and fucking in rougher. Its cock presses harder until Akira’s pussy is drooling slick and their legs tremble with effort. This time, the pleasure builds a sharper heat into their belly. Their cunt throbs sweetly, threatening worse. Akira’s breath catches in fear, and they start thrashing again, shame closing their throat tightly. This time, the other Great Danes don’t growl or snap their teeth, only make strange huffing noises again. The second dog’s grip is too tight around their hips, keeping them in place as it fucks them. It won’t stop, it just keeps going, and they’re going to—
“Nnghh. Stop,” they beg, voice trembling and breaking. They’re gushing, slick pouring down their legs alongside the previous dog’s cum. “Guh. Bad dog—haah, you can’t … I don’t want to—ahh, please—”
No no no no no—
Akira’s legs kick out as they squirt, pussy twitching sharply. They scream silently, eyes rolled back, lips forming a wide, trembling o. The dog keeps fucking into them, forcing out jets of liquid with each thrust. Akira’s voice breaks back into sound, cracking slightly as they scream.
The tight clench of their cervix has loosened, and as the dog’s knot swells and locks, the tip notches snugly in the pucker. When the dog cums, still grinding its hips and panting even as it turns, the hot cum spills deep, directly into—
Oh god oh god—
Akira squirts a second time and blacks out, body going limp.
This time, when the second dog slips out, Akira’s pussy clings a bit, resisting the pull with needy clenches as the dog pulls its deflating knot out. The dogs makes the huffing noise again, almost like a chuckle. As it pops out with a slick noise, Akira jerks as they come to, head drooping and eyes fluttering.
Akira’s still slack, breath coming out in shuddering and uneven gasps. In their dizzy state, they don’t notice the second dog trading places with the last and largest. They don’t react as it mounts them, its weight heavy on their back, until its cock presses into their twitching pussy, still dripping cum. Akira yelps and squirts a little as the dog pushes in deep, so thick and hot that the size of it alone presses its shaft against all the best spots without the dog even shifting.
Not that it matters. Like the second, the last dog shifts itself, almost as if trained for this, and thrusts, perfectly aligned to both grind hotly against their sweet spot and press the head of its cock right into the loosening clench of their cervix.
Akira's cries cut off into choked, garbled whines. They’ve only barely come down, and the sensation of being fucked is overwhelming. The wide, unforgiving girth of the last dog’s cock starts winding them higher and higher as it saws in and out of their creamy pussy, still forcing tiny spurts of slick out with each greedy pump of its hips.
Unlike the first two, the last dog’s stamina is practically endless. It seems like hours this time. Akira can’t breathe, they can’t see. Their entire world has narrowed down to the thick cock splitting them open, the brutal thrusts forcing the tip of the dog’s cock to kiss the entrance to their womb and bruise their sweet spot. The heat in Akira’s gut keeps pooling until it rolls through their entire body, sending prickles all the way down to their toes.
Good, feels good, Akira thinks dizzily, eyes fluttering, mouth slack and drooling. My pussy feels so good.
The last dog’s cock trembles and expands, knot catching as the tapered head presses snugly into the loosened grip of their cervix. Akira’s eyes roll back at the first hot jet of cum, and then a stream of piss sprays out from them, their pussy spasming and gushing slick around the last dog’s knot.
Around them, the dogs have started barking, odd noises that really sound like laughter. The last dog grinds in hard, knot settling directly on Akira’s abused g-spot. They black out again, needy pussy still clenching with each jet of cum.
An eternity later, the last dog’s cock finally slips out of Akira’s cunt. They’re limp, pussy still twitching and leaking cum. Even unconscious, they’re still cumming, little spurts of piss gushing out erratically with each spasm of their pussy. The odd, laugh-like barks start up again. The first dog slips behind Akira once more, its red shaft grinding against Akira's creamy hole, ready to mount—
The sound of sirens break across the grounds, and the dogs bound away, barking at the noise.
Akira jolts awake at the sound. Barely cognizant, they manage to angle their hips and slide their aching lower half out of the fence, limbs trembling with effort until they finally squeeze out. They collapse on the ground when they try to brace themselves on their hands and resign themselves to crawling, still dizzy, pussy still throbbing and spilling cum, dragging themselves away from the mansion.
They don’t stop crawling until the sound of sirens fade in the distance, at which point they collapse, letting darkness overtake them one final time.
Akira wakes up gasping, already shivering in the cool predawn air. Somehow, they’re not in a cell, nor in a public place, but in the midst of the man made forest surrounding the mansion.
It’s a miracle, really. There are no sirens, no shouts of distant people, no flicker of lights from cop cars. Despite it all, Akira has still evaded capture.
Akira’s body, however, hasn’t fared so well. They wince as they glance themselves over, sore and exhausted. There are bruises on their hips from where the iron bars dug in, and light scratches all up the tops of their legs. Somehow, their top layers escaped damage, but the seat of their pants is irreparably shredded. And… they’re no longer leaking, the dogs' (and their) fluids dried to a nasty crust all over their crotch and thighs.
They think maybe they should cry, or scream, or even break down sobbing, but right now, they feel… calm. Or maybe numb. All they can think is that they want to go home and shower. So they move, almost automatically, and pull off their top layer, tying the long sleeves around their waist to hide the enormous, gaping hole over their ass.
Their head still feels a bit fuzzy around the edges, but when force themselves to their feet, legs trembling, their mind clears, until the fuzz only lingers at the edges of their brain.
The brief hotel stay passes in a blur. No one comes looking, and no one asks any questions. Akira doesn’t tell the client about the dogs, too ashamed to admit what had happened, and the woman never asks, simply thanks Akira with a happy, oblivious smile and wires parts of Akira’s commission into their offshore account over the next several weeks. The jewels find their way to a discreet seller, and the local libraries, community centers, homeless shelters, food banks, and small businesses all find themselves with an extra couple grand in their pockets. Life goes on. Akira spends time with their friends, calls their family, meets new clients, completes new heists. No one learns what happened to them, and no one ever will. All things considered, much of Akira’s life is the same.
Except now, that strange, fuzzy feeling is still stuck in their head. It’s barely noticeable, and in fact as long as Akira keeps themselves busy, always with other people, going out, living normally, they can push that fuzz into a tiny corner and function like a healthy human being. When night falls and they find themselves alone in their apartment, however, the brain fog spills from the mental corner they’d banished it to, until they wake up, dazed and disoriented and… soaking.
If that were the only problem, Akira could handle it, but there’s… more. When they go out on runs at the park by their apartment, the dogs that run up to greet them from behind fences whine and scrabble instead of barking and growling. When they pass by dogs on the street, owners have to restrain their suddenly unruly pets, yanking on their dogs’ leashes and apologizing profusely to Akira as the dogs try to hump their legs and knock them down. When they go home to visit parents, even Akira’s ancient Labrador will wobble towards them and shove its nose into their crotch. And Akira hates themselves for it, but each encounter leaves them leaking, trying to conceal the tremble in their breath.
Five months after the heist, Akira has gone through ten separate one night stands, and they’re fine. Great, really. Their partners are kind, gentle, and never ask questions, even when Akira insists they can only fuck them silently from behind. Akira orgasms easily with each, sent over the edge with only panting breaths in their ear or the shift of their legs or the tight grip of their hands on their hips.
Ten months after, they cave and order a dildo, the fancy kind with an inner tube and special lube and… a tapered crimson shaft with a knot at the base. When it arrives at their apartment, they tear into the package with shaking hands, cunt already trembling and soaking through their pants. Akira doesn’t even make it to their bedroom to grab the lube, just kneels on the floor with their ass in the air and their pants shoved down to their knees. They cum instantly when the tip slips in.
A year after, Akira finds themselves back on the edge of the mansion’s grounds, shivering in the cool night air, their heart in their throat. The three largest dogs are already there, waiting at the gap in the fence. Their eyes glint bright gold. Akira’s pussy throbs.
After, Akira finds themselves in their car, the new ‘owner’ of three enormous and unusually calm Great Danes with glossy black fur and bright yellow eyes.
Akira squirms in the driver’s seat. Their mind's already clouded, and it makes their hands shake as they grip the steering wheel. One of the dogs huffs in their ear, and they gasp, nearly running a stoplight before they slam on their brakes. The dog rests its head on the seat, muzzle heavy on Akira’s shoulder, and they feel their cunt trembling, soaking through their sweats and dripping slick onto the seat.
Akira walks stiffly to their apartment with the dogs following, crowding around them. The dogs nearly knock them over in the hall, and Akira has to scramble and grab at the wall, pushing the dogs away with weak hands. They force themselves to keep moving, trying to keep their eyes up and off the bright red cocks that are already poking out from beneath all three dogs.
They make it to the apartment. The moment Akira closes the door, the dogs are on them, pushing them down and yanking at their sweats with sharp teeth. They don’t resist, simply fall to their knees and press their cheek to the floor with a whimper.
The first dog’s cock knocks the thin, soaked strip of cloth covering their cunt to the side and pushes in without resistance, hot and hard. Akira cums instantly with a whine, pussy sucking at the already bulging base and drooling slick. The dogs chuff above them, and Akira thinks that it really does sound like mocking laughter.
Akira’s eyes roll back as the dog starts moving, shaky moans forced out with each deep, greedy pump. Everything goes fuzzy, Akira’s world once again narrowing to a point, until nothing exists beyond the thick, hot cock plunging into their pussy. The other dogs loom over their shoulders, watching, waiting.
In the end, just like with the jewels, no one comes asking questions. The ex-client doesn’t contact them. The landlord demands a pet deposit and then never returns. Their friends and family meet the hounds and fall in love immediately with their odd behavior, calling them "charming". Most of the time—on walks, trips to the shopping mart, when guests are over, even during heists when the dogs are in the apartment alone—the trio acts incredibly well-behaved. They rarely bark and never howl, and the apartment walls are thick enough anyways, so their neighbors never complain. They treat children, including Akira's grabby younger cousins, with infinite patience. Even baths aren't difficult; once every few weeks, Akira will find one of the dogs already in the bathroom, sitting patiently as they wait to be cleaned.
Which is all great, but some of their behavior is... unnerving. When they go to the pet store, they ignore all toys and pick out their own food by pointing with their noses. Other dogs will submit immediately, showing their bellies without hesitating. Cats and birds won't even go near them. They don't play with other animals. They don't even beg. They even seem to understand Akira when they speak, their bright yellow eyes intelligent and regarding. Akira comes to appreciate this, even if it freaks them out a bit to see the dogs sitting and watching the TV or opening the fridge with their mouths.
For the most part, Akira’s routine hasn’t even changed. As the weeks pass, they seem to learn Akira’s schedule. Lunch with friends on Tuesdays, client meetings on Thursdays, family dinners on Sundays. They’ll leave Akira’s pussy alone when they’re getting dressed during the week, won’t even sniff in their direction when they’re going out with friends on Friday. They're even careful with their claws, leaving fewer and fewer marks on Akira's hips. Akira has to admit: aside from having new companions, it's not as scary as they thought.
Of course, that doesn't mean there aren't … changes. Because when Akira is finally alone with the dogs in their apartment, the dogs don’t hesitate, just knock Akira over wherever they are, yank at their clothes, and fuck into their already soaked and squeezing hole, one by one, until Akira collapses, creamy clit and pussy twitching uncontrollably against the floor.
There are other changes, too. They wear mini skirts more often now. They buy more thongs. They keep their hair pulled back. When their friends notice these changes and compliment them, Akira flushes and stammers out excuses. Their friends assume they’re flattered. They don’t know how many times Akira is immediately knocked over and mounted the moment they enter their apartment alone, so the skirt and thong makes it easy, allowing the dogs to shove up the skirts with their noses and bully their cocks in with minimal effort. They don’t see the dogs grabbing hold of Akira’s hair in their mouths as they fuck them, yanking their head back hard enough to force Akira’s back to arch.
Akira doesn’t seek out one-night-stands anymore. They turn down anyone who approaches them like that. They don’t masturbate, either. There’s no need to. (They can't get off without the trio's cocks anymore, anyway.)
And Akira falls into this routine, relieved to have a mostly normal and unchanged life. No one catches them and no one suspects anything. They think they’re safe, so they drop their guard. They barely notice when the dogs stop yanking on their clothes when they enter the apartment because they’re already pulling them off without thinking. When missions occur where Akira has to disappear for a bit, they always find an excuse to bring at least one of the dogs along. Once, twice, multiple times, Akira will be cooking or cleaning or watching television, one of the dogs will bark, and Akira will fall to their knees with their pussy drooling, brain immediately hazing over as the dog thrusts into them.
The brain fog is getting stronger, too. In that state, it’s hard to resist anything. With a clearer head, Akira will flush and deny it, but when the haze takes over, Akira lets the trio do—more. Sometimes the dogs fuck into their mouth, lips stretching wide around the girth, until their knots lock behind their teeth. Other times, the dogs will press their cocks into Akira’s ass instead, stretching out the tiny puckered hole, chuff-laughing when Akira cums with their ass clenching around a knot and their pussy gushing. Still, Akira denies a problem. They can still work normally, still talk normally, still live a mostly normal life. It's fine.
(There are other changes that Akira doesn't realize, like how they stop wearing pajama pants, just shirts and no panties. Sometimes, while Akira is asleep in bed, the dogs will enter their room. All it takes is a low, gruff bark, and Akira will roll on their back and spread their legs unconsciously, even pissing a little in their sleep, cunt chubbing up and slicking. The first dog will hop up onto the bed and push its cock in, pushing out tiny squirts of slick and piss. They never wake up even as they cum, and the dogs take their time, forcing an unconscious Akira through orgasm after orgasm until their sheets are soaked through. Even if they wake up sore and messy, the brain fog when they wake and morning showers keep them ignorant.)
Finally, after a long week of missions, everything comes to a head when a heist lasts longer than intended. Normally, they'd be in the middle of a good knotting, but Akira is still out, trying to steal the bank account information from a business ring. Akira finds their pussy leaking through their clothes and their brain hazing. It's enough that their heist mates comment idly on the odd smell in the air. Enough that their thong is ruined, the strained cloth strip digging harshly into their swollen labia and clit. Enough that they almost blow the mission, clumsy and dripping from their soaked crotch. Enough that they're trying desperately to finish an easy heist with wet pants and a fuzzy head, practically incapable of standing or speaking.
Finally, too late, Akira realizes their mistake. The trio is training them. They're being bitched.
When the heist finishes and the team splits up, Akira stumbles away in a daze. This is bad, right? They should… stay away. Let their head clear up, and then go back and show the dogs who’s boss. Akira is the master, and they're the pets. They force themselves to wait, even as they're delirious, puffy pussy straining against their tight, soaked pants. I just have to wait it out until my head clears.
They don’t last two hours before they’re rushing home. Their pants are already falling to floor before they even enter their apartment. One hand is slick from being shoved down their pants, four fingers stuffed in their cunt in a desperate attempt to fill themselves like a knot would. They fumble with the lock with filthy and trembling fingers.
Akira yanks the door open, stumbling inside, not even able to close the door behind them. The dogs are on them in seconds.
One of the dogs nudges the door closed. Akira doesn’t notice; they're too busy thrusting their ass in the air with a needy whine. They're still mostly dressed, too distracted by the tapered shaft sliding against the plush, slippery folds of their cunt. The moment the first dog’s cock splits their pussy open, they cum instantly, squealing as the dog forces out jets of slick with each thrust.
Akira's arms give out and they fall to the floor with a thump. They can't stop cumming. They can't think, can't comprehend words, can't even remember their own name, can't understand anything beyond the cock stretching their cunt obscenely, pussy trembling around the girth. The first dog’s paws are locked around their waist, holding them up and forcing them to take it. When it knots and turns, still grinding its cock in as it spills, Akira squeals again, eyes crossing and toes curling, pussy milking the knot and resisting as it tugs. With their body limp except for their cunt's pretty folds clenching stubbornly around the bulging knot, they are, quite literally, hanging off the Great Dane's cock. When the dog pulls out, Akira squirts again, only for the stream to be plugged up by the next cock plunging into their hole.
Each dog takes its turn, then another, then another. By the time the dogs are finally done, Akira is unconscious on the floor in their entryway, their face contorted in stupid bliss. Hot cum burbles out of their swollen, still-cumming pussy, frothing slightly as it pools on the floor beneath them, dribbling down over their twitching clit into a puddle of slick and squirt and piss. The dogs huff their odd laugh above Akira’s prone form, yellow eyes glinting brightly even in the darkness of the apartment.