Prized Possession

A short story by "Fern"

"Please, Master Quinn! Give me another chance! I am sure there is a job I will not fail at!"

The brooding panther continues to stare. He stands out of his chair as he slams down one of his prized miniature statues, this one being a lovely miniature leopard statue. His slave waxed it with the wrong material; making most of the gold scrapped right off it. "You always ask for more. While I appreciate your loyalty for always staying for me, I am damn sure it means shit when you can't even deliver a tray."

The Master, Mr. Kane Titus Quinn, is one of the most well-known underground millionaires. His hair is black, sleek, and short. He is usually seen in a suit that's as black as his fur and as expensive as his possessions. He stands a good six and a half feet tall with a medium build similar to that of a boxer. He almost punches as well as one too. However, he prefers to use magic to solve his problems.

The slave has no name. He never received one. Out of sheer desperation for money, his parents sold him to slavery at birth. Unfortunately, the parents didn't cover their paper trail well and were soon arrested afterward. However, they were never able to find the infant before he was shipped out of the country. As soon as he hit 13, he was sold to owner after owner, but was always returned back due to his incompetence. Soon he was only being sold for mere pennies just so they can rid of him. He was bought by Mr. Quinn while he was buying slaves by bulk.

Now twenty-two, the slave is a full-grown and blond-furred collie with a tint of orange. He never grew hair. Having only a sufficient amount of food throughout his life, he is neither chubby nor tall. He's five and a quarter feet with a very thin build. As of the uniform for all of Kane's slaves, he is usually seen with a ragged, brown loincloth. Today though, his Master told him to come to his office naked.

The slave's ears droop, but continues to stare at his Master. The poor canine stands obediently with thoughts of being sold. He'll have to go through the whole slave ring again until another Master can tolerate him enough to be bought. He was sold for almost nothing last time. What if he never gets a new position ever again? The ring is a lonely place to him as no one is allowed to interact with each other.

"However, I did find a new position that even your hollow organ that you call a brain can comprehend." He stands with his hands behind his back.

"If it'll make you happy, sir. I live to serve."

"Good, we have no disagreement then." With that said, he forces his hand on his head. His paw encompasses his eyes and most of his hair. In deep concentration, he begins to chant.

The canine feels something tingle at the top of his face. He suddenly stands still, staring blankly. He can only shiver, something that's caused more by the tingling than his nerves. Slowly squatting down, he wraps his arms along his legs. Entering into a fetal position, he can feel his fur trying to retract in. He tries to ask his Master what is going on, but he's completely silent. He doesn't even breathe. Fear sinks in when he can't even hear his heart beat, just his Master's hand.

His Master squats lower as the furniture around the canine towers over him. He can't feel a single limb on his body. It's feels like nothing seems to be sticking out of him. His Master's hand feels different against his sink. No, it's his skin that seems different. The slight hunger he had before he came in has vanished. The slight itch behind his ear has faded. He doesn't feel alive, and yet he still feels... aware.

Suddenly, his vision quickly pans up as he ends up seeing his Master eye to eye. With two flicks of his palm and thumb, the cat finds himself spinning a full 180. He would widen his eyes in shock, but he no longer has that ability. He's a ball, a ball that has his face embedded on the surface! His limbs are "drawn" on where they'd appropriately be. Every single realisic detail is intact right down to his claws and belly button. He looks to be no bigger than two feet in diameter. "I hope you enjoy your demotion from slave to object, cat," says the panther.

Object, thought the ball. He has heard rumors of his Master being skilled in the art of creating materials into special clay, but he hasn't heard of him making people as the clay itself! No! I must be dreaming! This can't happen!

"Oh, but it can," responds his Master. "I can hear your thoughts. I can feel your life. You're no longer among the living. You're my property now in a much more literal sense."

Kane has a special ability known as Terrakinesis, the ability to shift materials. Throughout his life, he participated in an art show. He saw one of the artists work on a huge clay statue of a Greek God. As he watched the artist rub his hands over every little curve on the clay's body, the thought of being able to mold something inspired him to create a special clay of his own. After weeks of studying alchemy books, he mastered the art of morphing someone into a clay that can be molded by thought. The year after the show, he would participate in the show as a competitior... with one of his slaves as an exotic pot with the rim in the shape of a horse's head.

The collie is soon carried under his Master's arm as he's lead out of the office.

The panther reaches in his pocket and twirls out his keys. With dead-on precision, he flicks his claw to land the right key in his finger. The slave panics as he unlocks his door. He has never seen the inside of his bedroom before. It makes him feel guilty for being allowed to view something that could be as magnificent as his room.

The mahogany door swings open as the former collie gazes his eyes upon the most luxurious bed he ever gazed his eyes upon. Just imagining its comfort puts him at a much better ease. It was a King sized bed with white translucent curtain. The bed was craved out of mahogany with enhancing cheery wood veneers. There were shelves filled with a cornucopia of foreign knickknacks, some of them sexually suggestive enough for Mr. Quinn's tastes. Most of the decorate ones were European craving dolls. Some of their ethnicities are clear while others are almost completely alien.

A bookcase on the other side is filled with instructional, cultural, or rhetoric lore. Most of the books' spines are written in a foreign language, most of them Romantical languages with a few Sinic-written titles. It brings one to wonder if he truly read most of them or they're there just show off a collection.

Before the former collie can take in anymore of the sights, he finds himself on the floor. He rocks side-to-side from the momentum, staring blankly with unblinking eyes. His Master seems to concentrate as he floats his hand towards the ball. The collie feels another tingling once again.

He feels his texture changing. His hard clay exterior starts to shift to two different ones. One side seems to be a jungle of rubber stalks covered in fuzzy fibers. The fibers grew where his face was, giving him an odd feeling at his eyes. The other has a rubber coating to it with what the collie feels is some sort of cold metal underneath. He starts to shift from his spherical shape as he becomes more of a prism, a very short prism. Soon enough, he was completely flat and parallel to the floor. He can only stare up as his Master looms over him.

Kane picks him up under his arm once again. The collie finds that he's quite flexible as he flaps for a bit. He finds both of his eyes partially squished. He doesn't feel any pain from the feeling, probably because he no longer has nerves, but he can still feel it in a coconscious level. It's quite disorienting.

Soon the duo arrives at the front porch of the mansion. Oh no, is he going to throw me out anyway, he thought.

His question was answered as he was dropped to the floor with a soft thud. "You were terrible at greeting guests before, but you'll see how much better you'll do your job by replacing the doormat."

The doormat, he exclaimed. I'm the doormat!?

After he feels himself get adjusted like a picture on a wall, he hears the door close as his Master leaves with the other doormat under his arm.

On the porch, a brown and fuzzy door mat lays before the double doors. On the top there is a face of the former slave embedded as the fibers. Over his head, there's a phrase that reads in italicized Helvetica, "Please wipe your paws here."

The collie stares up to the roof above him. He's still trying to comprehend what just happened to him in the past thirty minutes. He keeps praying that this is just a terrible dream, something that is part of the nightmares he gets about every week or so. If not that, he at least hopes that his Master will give him something else to do... eventually...

For the next few days, various guests wiped their feet on him. There are clumps of dirt, dust, and fur fall in between his fibers. It doesn't hurt the least bit, but he can still feel it. It feels like a horrible itch that'll never go away. It's especially bad when they wipe on his eyes. He would tear up from the dust wiped on his pupils, but he can only bear the agony.

Eventually though, he was picked up. The hands snap him like a towel several times as all the debris flings off him. It was maddeningly disorienting. He would have puked if he still had a gut.

"Mmm, see how much more useful you are like this?"

The mat only responds in gratefulness of hearing a voice again. He almost went mad from loneliness.

His master chuckles "don't worry. You won't be lonely anymore. You're getting a new job. A job that'll involve you serving me more directly. You'd like that wouldn't you?

I would... but are you going to ever promote me back to life?

"Do you dare question my methods? Maybe you need a bit more time to yourself. Maybe as a statue in the gardens..."

No! Please, Master Quinn! I apologize deeply! If I get to help you, then I will take what I can get! I am honored to be near you again!

"Good," he smirks. "Let's get you cleaned up and then ready for your new assignment."

A highway is the fastest route from Kane’s estate to a nearby city. It runs through an arid and barren part of the land. Bundles of weeds hedge around the edges of the asphalt as there isn't a tree miles through the route. The society in the city itself is suited to the panther's tastes. It's seedy, shady, and has that allure of danger, yet intrigue. Not to mention the underground society that's perfect for people like him. He would usually bring his minions with him, but this time he seems to be alone.

He leans back, riding a glossy brown Yamaha V Star 1100 Motorcycle zips down the highway. Many of the other drivers seem to give quite a few double takes at the vehicle. It's not the classic old-school style that catches their attention; it's the color scheme and extra features that are a real eye-popper. The front of the bike has a canine head with stretched ears as the handlebars. The eyes appear to be where the headlights are stashed in. The front bars holding the wheel look a lot like arms while the legs are squished together to make the roof over the back wheel. Some of the paw pads are colored in a glassy red, probably being the backlights. The tailpipe is literally the canine's "tail" with an embroidery reading in cursive "Daddy's Little Bitch".

M-Master, can we please drive on a road where we can go s-slower?

"Why you are not suggesting that I have to be late, do I?"

N-No! I'm just s-scared about crashing...

"You don't trust in my driving, pet?"

No! Never! There is nothing you can't do, Master!

"Then we stay on the highway."

Y-yes, Master Quinn...

The panther snickers at the dog's whimpering as he turns the handle. The dog's "heart" revs up as he gives a loud mental shiver. He's still not used to the sudden adrenaline rush revving does to him. His hear roars thunder as his tail spews a trail of smoke, leaving the other drivers to gawk in awe at the disappearing dog cycle.

For the next few days, he would take many roles around his Master's home or mode of transportation. He would be seen as a decorative rug that his Master had many nights in with company over a lit fireplace. He would be a post-modern-designed lamp that gave Mr. Quinn quality lighting when he read. He would be a kayak that would face many rapids and even a few waterfalls to fulfill his Master's yearn for excitement and risky endeavors.

One particular day would be the one that may have permanently set the collie's role. Kane, having quite a few slaves, is an obvious tease and sexual deviant. He was never satisfied with having "equal" partners though. He always prefers to do all the action.

The panther sets down a very large collie blanket. The color scheme swirls all over the top of the blanket. Even the face swirls as the eyes are curved as slanted crescents. The poor slave hasn't had such a disoriented vision at this point.

Kane ponders, while he is one to engage into the kinkiest of acts, he doesn't like any of the regular toys. He prefers his gear to be artistic as well as functional, something that is naturally desired of people with standards as high as his. He stands there with his hand on his elbow and his other palm rubbing at his chin in thought. He tries to imagine many possibilities inside his eyelids. The blanket even shivers a few times, but it doesn't change due to Mr. Quinn's indecisiveness.

His eyes open as he gives a satisfying hum. He looks at the blanket and concentrates. The plushy exterior starts to recess back into him. His color scheme starts to shift while he seems to be growing arms again. More to the collie's surprise is when his feet start to mold out of the square piece of fabric.

Is he changing me back again? Has he forgiven all my wrongdoings?

His hopes were dashed when he fully gains his shape. He realizes he's no longer soft. In fact, he has no fabric or hair whatsoever and feels quite cold. As his Master pets his hair, he realizes his hair is stuck together and that he's made out of some metal. It doesn't take long for him to figure out that he's now a statue of his former self, kneeling in front of his Master as if he grovels for his attention.

"Fitting, it's almost like the old days when you tried to look cute, doesn't it? Oh how far back were those days? I can't seem to remember, can you?"

It was just a month ago, wasn't it Master?

"It could have been a whole year! You're not sure enough to counter my superior judgment, are you?" He was lying of course, but he loved to scare his slaves every chance he gets.

N-no, Master Quinn...

During the course of the conversation, a few more changes were made to his form. The collie's tail elongates as it stretches thin. It curves around him until it ends in front of his right knee. The end of his tail shivers up his imaginary spine as it gets made into some sort of foot pump. Inside his body, a sort of heating machine forms inside a hollow part of his mid-section as an electrical plug slivers right out of his ass. His muzzle starts to open out as it hollows out in a perfect cylinder. Small patches of plushy fiber grow around the innards of his muzzle. The tingling fades away.

A bronzed statue of a naked collie on his knees stands before the panther. He rests his hands on his knees as he only stares straight forward. An electrical plug goes into his rear to a mechanical heater. A pump in front of the dog's knees blasts air out of his open muzzle.

"Stylish and useful. A lovely combination, don't you think?" He sprinkles some odd powder all over the frozen mutt. The slave can feel the plush lining of his muzzle start to get very sensitive. "Now let's see if you can finally do it right after all these years."

The collie whimpers in reply, but that only makes it more delicious for Mr. Quinn. Zipping down his slacks, he purposefully bumps his erection against the dog's eye. A mental whimper is heard as the canine begs for the ability to at least blink or even water his eye.

The panther twirls the plug in his hand as he shoves it in a nearby socket. The canine mentally gasps as he feels a strong surge of electricity travel up his ass. He feels a small pocket of warmth inside him as he sucks in some air against his will. He feels some sort of sack inside pump up with air as the heater warms it up.

His Master strolls in front of him, petting his frozen locks. He shoves in his member fully without any hesitation. The collie gasps even louder as he realizes how truly sensitive his plushy interior is! His fibers can feel every single pump and vein around his member. The panther growls as he feels his knot being squashed inside ever so tightly. He presses on the pump.

The collie gasps out a huge breath of hot air as the panther moans. He strokes the collies head as he begins to grind against his mouth. The statue's lips is cold against his groin and the force may leave a few bruises, but the temptation of the collie's warm "breath" could make him care less about a little discomfort.

His member bulges in the tight space. He purrs in shivers as a small gob of pre squirts out. Pulling back slightly, he let the natural lubricant stain the fabric. Quickening his rhythm, his lube makes things even warmer as he keeps pumping in glee. His eyes roll to the back of his head.

The statue also experiences quite a mental orgasm, despite not being able to feel any passion firing up his genitals. The warmth of those tiny drops of cum dripping in his mouth make him shudder in joy. The collie soon mostly forgot what he was so worried about so the privilege of being able to partake in such naughty play lifted his spirits. The feeling of his mouth being so soft and luscious along with him feeling every bit of his flesh plump in such a small space just makes the dog wag his mental tail. The way he is stomping hard on his tail to get every last bit of hot air makes him literally and mentally sigh in arousal. His hands were the only part of the play that was gentle, brushing against his lustrous hair. He can almost feel every fiber on his hands, every cell on his pads. He'd never experienced anything like this in the five years he spent in the slave ring.

The panther utters a loud cry as he arches back, gripping his hands hard to keep his balance. He can hear the collie howl with his meow as the canine feels every bit of hot, fresh feline seed travel past his fibers and down his throat where they pack up in the sack. The panther breathes deeply while the collie tries to collect his mind back into reality.

Thank you, Master. I have never experienced such an act... Truly, you are a voice of passion.

"Mmmm, I'm glad you liked it my dear pet, because I decided this'll be your new position for a while."

Of course, as usual, Master.

"Not quite as usual, my dear canine," he smirks as he leans down. He strokes the dog's chin with the tips of his fingers as he continues, "I decided this will be your new permanent role."

M-Master!?

"Oh don't bother to object. You'll see that you have no choice in the matter. Did you know that what you eat affects how your sperm will taste? I decided to take that a little step further..."

The collie realizes what he means as he noticed that he can actually taste the sperm in his sack! It tastes like nothing he can describe, but it is beyond delicious. The heater keeps it hot, sticky, and fresh. The way those little microorganisms swivel around in his plastic bag. It practically steals his attention. He can't seem to focus on anything else!

The panther nods in satisfaction as he hears moaning in his head, knowing full well his concoction is fully taking effect.

The collie stands there in a podium with its midsection being a classic Roman column. The collie kneels there in the same state as he was months ago. He stares straight ahead as his metal and glow are protected in a glass case. He loves it when his Master washes him though. He can get so cold when he doesn't bathe in warm, soapy water. He really loves it when he rubs hot wax all over him to keep his luster strong.

Days after days of being used, the canine has slowly lost his mind. All that he knew while he was alive has faded away thanks to the enhancement. His thoughts cannot even form coherent words. They are all some form of a feeling that his Master just knows what he was thinking. The panther quite likes the simplified thoughts. It's the kind of naive that he finds so sinister and delicious. 

He watches his Master sleep like a guard dog, hoping he'll wake up soon. He wasn't plugged in for so long; his favorite substance that’s inside him has grown cold and lifeless. Hopefully he isn't in his more devious moods and decides to leave him as a decoration for another month...

Kane smiles in his sleep as he hears an aura of panic and lust from his favorite toy. He wouldn’t want to hear anything else.

2009 © Fern (Pen name.)