Chapter Text
Magnus smiled to himself as his phone buzzed, and he didn’t have to look down to know that it was a response to the message he had sent less than five minutes ago.
It had to be. Those were the rules.
At least, if Asher wanted his weekly allowance to clear his account, and with the demanding shopping list Magnus had sent him on, he knew the boy would be desperate for it.
Magnus swiped open his phone, openly up the text message and humming with satisfaction.
He knew Asher’s schedule and knew the boy would be at the gym, so demanding a cage check and progress pic was a perfect chance to push the boy’s boundaries. Magnus had been subtly poking and prodding since their . . . . relationship had started, and he was happy with how far Asher had come.
Magnus’s message was curt—”check-in, pup”—and the picture below was perfect.
Asher must’ve ducked back into the locker room area, because he was standing in front of a row of lockers, his shirt pulled up to his neck and his shorts pulled down just enough for his caged cock to flop out. He was blushing, eyes focused on his phone as he made sure the picture looked good.
Magnus must’ve caught him at the perfect time, because his hair was sweaty and he had dark stains under his arms. His chest was fat and perfect, nipples pebbled and flushed a perfect shade of pink. His stomach was tight, not defined or untouchable, since Mangus made sure his pup stayed hydrated, and his tree trunk thighs gave the illusion of hips wider than they actually were.
His black and grey ears were flopped over in that way that Magnus loved, almost in his face but perfect for brushing back and playing with. And Mangus knew it always made the dogboy’s tail wag despite how much he insisted that he didn’t like having his head scratched.
“Ready for you, Daddy,” was included under Asher’s picture, a phrase that had taken a couple weeks to drill into his brain, but Magnus was satisfied that it now came to the boy easily.
Magnus paused, satisfied with knowing that Asher was probably hiding anxiously in a stall now, waiting desperately for his approval. He let him wait, just a moment longer, before sending off the money and then texting back his reply.
“Good pup. Money is sent. I want you in your pink panties tonight. If you wear something matching, I’ll send another one fifty.”
Three grey dots danced in the bottom of the screen for a long time, and Mangus wondered if Asher was going to argue with him or protest the request. In the end, all his reply read was, “Yes, Daddy,” since that was all Magnus had done--make a request.
He liked pushing Asher’s boundaries.
Their relationship had started out a lot more vanilla, with Asher being straight-I’m-not-into-any-of-that-weird-butt-stuff gym rat, and Mangus had agreed that he just wanted to pay the boy for the occasional picture as well as have a bit of arm candy for some business events and a date night every now and then.
Asher had agreed, they had worked out a weekly allowance, and Mangus had been pushing from there.
It had taken a couple weeks to talk Asher into the cock cage, but in the end, Mangus had insisted that it wouldn’t matter—why would Asher be getting hard around the other man if he were straight? It just made sense.
From there, Magnus had time and Asher’s building desperation and horniness on his side.
It was almost easy then, like plucking a piece of candy out of a child’s hand. Magnus started requesting more and more access to his life. All with a price tag of course, and it wasn’t Magnus’s fault that Asher said yes every single time.
At first it was his workouts, a sleazy request to be sure, but pre- and post-workout pictures started out innocent enough. And then Magnus requested specific activities, turning arm and leg days into chest workouts and squats, giving Asher a fat pair of tits and an even fatter ass.
He transformed the boy’s body from his office, without even touching him, reveling in how he could make the boy jump to his demands with a simple promise of money and a single text from “Daddy.”
How many times had he pushed back from his desk, stretching his back from a particularly long meeting and indulging himself with a single text to his pay-pup and receive a picture of him less than five minutes later, sweating and flushed from whatever workout Magnus had interrupted but always there with an obedient “yes, Daddy.”
And Magnus would pull his cock out of his pants and enjoy a slow, languid jerk, unhurried towards his orgasm, while he knew Asher was heading back out to his workout, flustered and now dripping in his cage and probably trying to debate the pros and cons of his bank account being just a little bit heavier after the humiliation.
The power of it made Magnus heady, and he had to hold himself back so he didn’t push Asher too far too fast.
The panties were a next request, easy enough with Magnus now holding his weekly allowance over his head. And it was so entertaining to watch the pup jump for it.
Magnus had been slowly pushing Asher towards bras next, but instead of the panties, that Magnus had bought and provided himself, he wanted Asher to take the initiative.
“Find something matching”
Go to the store and find a bra that fit and also matched the pink panties cradling his cock.
Magnus couldn’t wait to see Asher’s choice tonight.
He had planned a date night in with the boy and was looking forward to the culmination of all his efforts. Magnus wasn’t sure if he could hold himself back much longer anyway, not when Asher was practically perfect.
Magnus had built up the home gym in his mansion and a perfect pink collar that needed to be locked around Asher’s throat. He would give the pup his forever home, whether Asher knew about it or not.
The hours passed far too slowly for Magnus’s liking, though he forced himself to focus on the work emails and meetings he needed to attend. Soon, he wouldn’t need to worry about weekly allowances or paying for Asher’s body, and Magnus could take all his vacation days and retire with a fat pension and a desperate puppy at his feet.
When he finally left the last digital meeting, he couldn’t collect his belongings fast enough, taking the train home and quickly settling in. He fought to not watch the clock, wanting to be time blind enough that the doorbell ringing would catch him
To his surprise, he managed it, enjoying a slow glass of wine when the doorbell chimed and he heard his butler let the boy in. He smiled to himself, settling into his recliner a little more at the satisfaction of knowing his pup had finally arrived.
He forced himself to look relaxed, so focused on his phone that Asher had to clear his throat when he stepped through the wide archway to the sitting area, then and only then glancing up and acknowledging him with a smile.
“Ah, there you are,” he said, gesturing for Asher to step closer.
The pup jumped to obey, and Magnus would never stop congratulating himself on finding such a desperate thing in the classifieds of his favorite business paper. Those hybrids always were so eager to please and obey, they just needed a little bit of poking.
And with the way Asher was squirming, Magnus could tell he had accepted his earlier request.
With a hungry grin, Magnus set his phone aside, pushing himself to his feet.
He towered over Asher, though, if he were being fair, he tended to tower over everyone. As a bear hybrid, he put on weight and held it easily, and he usually had a good foot or two on even the tallest person in the room. His suits had to be custom made, but it was worth the hassle with the way he could command a meeting room.
“Why don’t you strip,” he said, circling Asher like a hungry shark as he looked him up and down. “And we can head down for dinner.”
At first, he debated drugging the boy on his first glass of wine, but Magnus really did want to take the chance to spoil the pup even if it was just for a night. He wanted to start their true relationship off on the right foot.
Asher jumped to obey, anxiously handing over his own phone as he kicked off his shoes and dropped his shorts. True to his word, he was wearing the pastel pink pair of tight panties, the perfect outline of his caged cock cradled by the silk fabric. Even though it wasn’t a thong, Asher’s ass, hardened and perfect from squats and leg workouts at the gym, still swallowed up the fabric between them.
He hesitated, only for a moment, before he pulled the hem of his shirt up and added it to the pile of clothes on the floor.
He blushed, avoiding Magnus’s eye as he tucked his tail tightly between his legs.
“Do you . . . do you like it?” he asked shyly, puffing his chest up to show off the white lace bra he had purchased.
Magnus could tell there weren’t any wires, so the pup had probably gone for comfort with the strap-y bralette. If he had tried others on at all.
It did look cute, in a way, but Magnus had been hoping for a matching pink.
He wanted to grope Asher’s chest, feel just how soft and squishy his workouts had made his tits and then feel him tense up and harden under his touch. But they had agreed no touching, not without prior negotiation . . . or payment. Asher was here to sit and look pretty.
Though there would be little he could do to stop Magnus’s roaming hands once the sleep medication in his third or fourth glass of wine hit him.
“You made a good choice,” Magnus said, giving Asher an easy smile to put him at ease.
And the pup drank up the praise, cheeks flushing even darker and his tail peaked out from between his legs. Magnus couldn’t wait until he had Asher trained up enough that just a glance from him would have his tail wagging harder than ever.
That would come with time.
Magnus smiled and offered his arm to Asher, raising an eyebrow.
The difference between his business attire, his jacket was left draped over the back of his chair and his sleeves unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows, while a little disheveled was still leagues above Asher, dressed only in a pair of satin pink panties and his white lace bralette.
And he blushed but meekly accepted Magnus’s arm, tucking himself close to the bear hybrid as Magnus led the way downstairs.
For Asher’s last night as a free boy, Magnus really had gone all out.
The caterers had delivered the finest five course dinner, complete with a dessert that Magnus wasn’t even sure they would get too. He had lit the candles and already poured the wine, and he walked Asher to his seat, pulling out his chair and helping him sit, going so far as to unfold his napkin and drape it over his lap, ignoring the twitch of his caged cock underneath.
No touching. He hadn’t paid for that.
Still, there was some vindication in Asher’s hand hesitating to leave Magnus’s arm, lingering a bit too long for it to be casual.
It was Magnus who had to pull away in the end, smirking to himself at the small whimper under Asher’s breath as he stepped to the other side of the table and took his own seat.
“Dig in,” he offered, gesturing to the array of foods. “I want this to be informal.” He knew how anxious Asher got at the fancy restaurants and not knowing which fork was for which food.
Asher finally perked up, momentarily losing his embarrassment over his undressed state and he began serving himself from the different dishes. He had to be starving after a workout, and Magnus had to hold back a smile at the pup’s eagerness to get a bite of everything on his plate.
He took his own time, serving himself proper portions and cutting small bites.
Asher should savor the last meal, since Magnus planned on transitioning him to a proper pet diet of kibble and cum.
It was almost sweet how the pup lacked proper table manners, shoveling food into his mouth and slurping up noodles and sauce. It was cute, almost , the contrast between his slutty underwear and the way he tore into the food and lapped at the wine like . . . like a starving dog.
Magnus smiled to himself, cutting a small bite of chicken and nibbling idly.
Cute, sure, but only for a minute or so.
He waited for Asher to shovel a particularly large bite of some casserole into his mouth when he cleared his throat, loud enough for Asher’s eyes to dart to him. They flooded with panic, and Magnus forced himself to sigh, acting put on and annoyed.
“I know I said informal,” he said. “But at least try to have some table manners.”
Asher blushed at the condescending tone and squirmed, ears immediately drooping down. He was struggling to chew, already trying to mumble some sort of apology or explanation.
“Sit up,” Magnus said, letting a bit of authority enter his voice, enough to make Asher squirm even more.
And Asher jumped to obey, immediately straightening up and squaring up his shoulders. It thrust his chest forward, much better posture for the femboy Magnus planned on turning him into.
“A napkin,” Magnus barked. “For your mouth.”
Asher looked like he wanted to crawl into his skin and disappear, but instead dutifully snatched it off his lap and dabbed messily at the sauce around his mouth.
Magnus cut himself another neat bite, driving home the difference as Asher struggled to clean himself up.
“Chew,” Magnus said sternly, keeping his dark gaze leveled at Asher to make sure he obeyed. “Swallow.”
It sent a thrill down his spine as Asher obeyed, gulping down the mouthful of food. Magnus did frown when he reached immediately for his glass of water so he cleared his throat again, satisfied when Asher froze.
“Show me your mouth is empty,” he said, idly stroking the stem of his wine glass.
Asher looked confused, but luckily didn’t question the order. He just looked to the ground, opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue for inspection.
Magnus hummed, letting him sit there, as he cut himself another bite of food, savoring the flavors while Asher squirmed.
“Now you may drink,” he said.
Asher blushed, politely picking up his glass of wine and finally bringing it to his mouth in a civilized way. He sipped carefully and finally set it down, pausing a moment as if waiting for further orders.
Magnus couldn’t have chosen better if he tried.
Without looking up from his own meal, Magnus obliged.
“Bra, off,” he said.
The clink of silverware was the only noise, that and Asher’s shaky breath, but Magnus didn’t have to look up to know that Asher was obeying him. It was almost amusing when Magnus finally did look up, and Asher held the bra in one hand, keeping his other arm crossed over his chest as if he really did have tits to hide.
He raised an eyebrow, as if to say “well?” and with a deepening blush, Asher set the bra down on the table and lowered his arm.
He couldn’t meet Magnus’s eye, but he did sit up straight and push his chest forward, giving Magnus a perfect view of his tits.
And really, that was what they had become. With the exercises Magnus demanded he do, Asher’s usually lean chest had been transformed into two hefty handfuls of fat muscle. When he wasn’t clenching, they looked like two perfectly round pillows, twin nipples pebbling shyly and just begging to be pumped bigger.
Magnus could get them looking like proper teats in less than a week, he was sure of it.
But he was going to have Asher longer than that, and he could take as much time as he wanted.
“Better,” he said, taking a careful sip of wine. He gestured with the knife he had been using to cute neat bites of his own pasta. “You may continue eating.”
Asher was still burning up with a blush, and his ears had drooped on either side of his head. Magnus was sure that if he looked under the table, Asher’s tail would also be tucked, though he could almost guarantee that his cage would be dripping.
Asher obeyed, this time taking much neater bites, though he still tended to shovel more than one into his mouth as he desperately tried to make up for his workout, probably on a bulk or something similar.
Magnus just made sure to keep an eye on the level of Asher’s wine glass, knowing that every time he took a sip, more and more of the sleeping drug was making its way into his system.
His movements were starting to slow down too, his grip on his fork and knife becoming loose and sloppy. His eyes drooped, and Magnus had to stifle a smile when he missed his mouth with his fork more than once, leaving smears of sauce on his lips and cheeks.
He also started to relax his muscles, where he had been unconsciously clenching them in his stress.
His chest, when tight, held some definition, the muscle pulling it up into a more perky mound that, while large, still resembled more or less a pectoral. As the drugs soaked into him and he relaxed, so did the muscles, his chest drooping and relaxing almost into proper tits, and it took every bit of Magnus’s self control not to sweep the dishes off the table and pin Asher down and eat him for dessert.
Still, Magnus waited, tiding himself over with sips of wine and assuring himself that he would be able to pour it between Asher’s tits soon.
He couldn’t wait to have the dogboy on the tips of his fingers.
He would have made more of an effort to make small talk and maintain the illusion that this was a normal dinner, but the drugs worked too quickly. In only a few short minutes, Asher didn’t even look like he would be able to provide a coherent answer, even if Magnus asked about details to his work out regimen.
Asher groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead and mumbled something about a headache and then asking something about the food. Magnus opened his mouth to answer, but Asher was already slipping sideways off his chair, collapsing in a heap on the floor with one arm reaching out to the door.
Like he wanted to escape but had only realized the danger at the very last minute.
Magnus smirked, taking one last sip from his own glass before he pushed his chair back from the table and stood. The scrape of wood across the tile had Asher giving a strangled noise of panic, his body briefly flopping as he fought desperately against the drug.
Magnus caught him easily, stooping down and threading his fingers through his pup’s hair, gripping him tightly right between the ears and then hefting his head up so he could cock his own head to look him in the eye.
The delirious drugged out panic never failed to make Magnus’s cock twitch, and he wondered if Asher could see it, hardening in his slacks, ready to destroy his cock-straight-boy persona.
“Where do you think you’re going, pretty thing?” he asked, flashing his fangs. His predatory behavior was left over from his own hybrid past, just like Asher’s smart but not smart enough and his eager-to-please nature.
A whimper bubbled up from Asher’s throat, eyes searching Magnus’s face for some sort of mercy or intention. But the drugs were taking him fast and any conscious thought was slowly draining from his eyes.
Magnus liked to watch for the exact moment they went dark.
“Empty that pretty little head of yours,” he cooed, giving Asher’s head a gentle shake, as if that could toss out the last of Asher’s thoughts. “Who’s my dumb little muscle slut?”
Asher whined, high and sharp, and he managed to raise his hand off the ground an inch in protest before flopping back to the ground. That was as much protest that he could manage, it seemed, as his eyes finally drifted closed and his head went limp in Magnus’s grip.
Magnus hummed his approval and gently lowered Asher’s head, turning it so his cheek rested perfectly on his forearm. He looked like he had fallen asleep there, shoulders rising and falling steadily with each breath and his face serene.
“Perfect,” Magnus commented, more to himself as he trailed a hand down Asher’s spine, twirling his fingers through the thick hair at the base of his tail and then gently combing through that as well. “You’ll be such a good girl for me.”