Work Text:
Your powers manifested after the attack. The meta-gene, what the doctors told you, had been dormant for your whole life. The physiological stress of the dog attack was so tremendous, the gene activated and you mutated. Over the course of just three days, your spine painfully grew to form a tail, your once human ears unfurling into floppy ears, and your cuspids elongating into short fangs. Ironic, your abilities are canine based. Distressed was a short way to put it, especially when you worked an office job at the one company that has Lex Luthor, CEO of LuthorCorp and metahuman hating. So, you bound your tail and covered your ears with a variety of headscarves, hats, and bows. Nobody noticed, nobody ever notices you. Hypothetically, you could walk around with your metahuman hanging all out and nobody would bat an eye.
That's what you thought. But, weeks after the accident when you got back to working after recovering, you began to find things on your desk. At first, you thought they were misplaced by one of your coworkers, maybe chatting nearby and offhandedly placing it on your desk to retrieve later. But they began to become... bolder. What first were things like small bags of dog treats or random dog stickers on your paperwork or under your shoe quickly escalated into giant wrapped bones and expensive dog equipment ranging from luxury leashes to steel muzzles. What the fuck. Did someone know? You try to ignore the snickers coming from the desks around you and sweep the latest finding, a human sized harness, under your desk. You consider going to HR about this sick joke, but what offense is being made when nobody knows of your secret? On the surface, it seems like somebody seriously cares about your pet dog.
You sigh and get up from your office chair to head to the copier with papers in hand. You make it halfway through the hallway when you see him, unmistakably, Lex Luthor. What the hell is he doing in the low rank offices? You give a half smile and a curt nod of acknowledgement as you clutch your papers closer, passing by him. "You." His voice sounds from behind you, and you feel your ears shrink back in fear from under your hat as you turn slowly. "Sir..?" He eyes you up and down, settling on the cap atop your head. "A cap.. In office clothes.." He observes, judgmentally, critically. You have no rebuttal, no defense. You just freeze in place, feeling your tail quivering in panic from under the tight confines of your bindings and pencil skirt. He clicks his tongue and waves you off, and you quickly trot to the copier room. You slam your palms against the door and exhale the breath you didn't realize you were holding. Okay, does it really look that bad? None of your coworkers have said anything about it. Why is he even down here? You quickly recollect yourself and scan what you need. You'll probably never see him down here again, he probably just needed to sort something out himself.
A week flies by, and you've completely pushed all thoughts of your encounter with Lex Luthor out of your mind. You haven't even been getting any off putting dog gifts on your desk anymore! The elevator rolls to a stop at your floor and you step off with a few coworkers, strolling towards your desks. A glint of metal catches your eye as you give a wave to your coworkers. Sitting pretty in the middle of your desk, is a sleek black collar with a dog tag on it. You scoff and pick the item up, turning the tag to face you. On it is your name, along with 'If Found, Return to L.L.' You feel your face heat up with multiple reactions ranging from unease, humiliation, and rage. What kind of sick joke is this? You feel a growl rumble in the back of your throat. You bite your bottom lip as you hold back bile, and sit at your desk, slipping the collar into the trashcan beside you. Just gotta make it through the day...
And, you nearly do. That is, until you feel a tap on your shoulder. You are met with the CEO's literal secretary politely telling you that Mr. Luthor would like to see you. You already feel yourself trying to fight tears (and a pitiful puppy-dog whine) as you get up from your chair and trudge to the elevator. What could you have possibly done? You've been a very good, productive, unnoticeable employee. You do your paperwork, you click-clack on your computer all day, you don't talk much with your coworkers. So what in the world could LuthorCorp CEO, Lex Luthor, need with a run of the mill office employee like you? You wipe your sweaty palms on your skirt as the elevator comes to the floor with a ding that almost sounds like a church bell ringing to signal your demise. Your feet move on their own, bringing you right in front of a golden plaque reading 'Lex Luthor'. You bring your knuckle to knock twice, quickly, curtly. "Come in."
You turn the knob and warily enter his office, closing the door gently behind you. You close your eyes as you patiently wait for the harsh reprimanding, layoff, or ballpoint pen thrown directly at your face. Instead, you hear his smooth voice again. "Sit." You comply almost immediately, dropping into the chair in front of his desk. He murmurs an 'interesting'. His hands are interlocked on the desktop, flexing as he clears his throat. "Bows today. Very cute." He says, motioning to your head. You lick your lips uncomfortably and nod with an awkward smile.
"Take them off."
You freeze, posture straightening in your chair. He says nothing more, just pins you down with an icy glare. You move to the first ear, hands shaking, while he patiently waits. You unclip the bow, revealing your soft dog ear underneath. You glance up at him, his expression unchanging, and move to the next ear. After removing your bows, you place them in your lap, and look up at him through your eyelashes, head lowered in shame. He pauses, then leans down to open a drawer in his desk. First, he pulls out the collar from today, followed by a rawhide chew bone and a steel cage muzzle. You bite your bottom lip in a pout, tears trickling down your face as you sniffle.
Lex stands up from behind his desk and makes his way to you, his slacks growing tight from the sight of your distress. "Take off your clothes, and anything else you're hiding." He orders, firmly, but not cruelly. He leans against his desk as he watches you hesitantly get up from your seat and slip off your pencil skirt, undo your bound tail, and step out of your panties. Now free, your tail quivers between your legs in submission. Your hands move to unbutton your blouse next, undoing each button with trembling hands as he watches intently. He speaks again. "Sit." You move to sit in the chair in front of him, but he stops you. He points to the floor. "There." Your eyebrows furrow, but you obey, slinking to the floor on your knees. You see him reach behind him to grab two items from the desk - the collar and rawhide bone.
He turns the chair to face you, but doesn't sit in it, not yet. Now, he squats down on your level, collar in hand, and fastens it around your neck. He smooths his hand over it and straightens the tag out, before getting up to sit in the seat before you, his legs spread. You sit before him, entirely nude except for the collar around your neck. He pats his knee, "Come." He beckons, and you glare at him, crawling forward. He unwraps the rawhide chew in his lap, and waves it in your face. Finally, you speak up. "I'm not chewing that. I'm not a fucking dog." Your ears pin back in distaste. He raises an eyebrow and leans forward in his seat, making you squirm in your place on the floor. He says nothing, and reaches out to hold your nose. Your cheeks puff out as you try to conserve your breath to no avail, and you gasp loudly as he shoves the rawhide bone into your mouth, your canines sinking into the treat. "Good dog." He lightly pats the side of your face, leaning back in his seat and moving his hands to loosen his slacks. You feel your face heat with shame and your eyes well with tears, but you manage to blink them back as you watch him pull himself out of his pants.
He beckons you with his hand, and you tentatively get up to crawl onto his lap, hovering over his crotch, nervously trying to avoid it. A hand reaches around to yank your tail up, making you yelp around the bone and jolt. You try to muffle out an insult, but you doubt he cares enough to pay attention to it. The hand that yanked your tail moves lower, two fingers spreading your entrance. You let out a muffled whine as you feel Lex rub your pussy, chest leaning onto his. Your back arches and your tail perks up as he begins to pump his fingers inside of you, stretching you out as you squirm and whimper in his lap. He slips in a third, and you feel his hard cock pressing on the inside of your thigh. Your body jerks violently as he pistons his fingers in and out of you, and you spit out the rawhide bone to bite down on his shoulder. Bad idea. You feel his muscles flex from under you as he retreats his hand from your pussy, wiping your slick on your own ass. "You fucking mutt." He grits, hand gripping your face harshly.
He reaches towards the desk once more, holding the muzzle. You scramble out of his lap , scratching and pounding at the door. He yanks you by the hair on your head to look up, and fastens the leather straps of the muzzle around your face. "Nooo," You cry, feeling the metal tighten around you. "This is what bad girls get." He spits out, pulling you into a standing position. He walks you over to his mahogany desk, grip firm around your arm, and pushes you to bend over it. You grip the edge of the desk, tail lowly wagging in shameful excitement as your legs tremble. He rubs the head of his cock along your slit, and pushes in unforgivingly, making you weakly cry out from behind your muzzle. His hands are tense, bruising against your waist as he pounds into you, your tail standing stiff in the air in full arousal. You're moaning out, as your muzzle clacks against the finish of the desk and your ass slaps against his pelvis unrelentingly. "Mhhaaah, It feels...sho good." You whine, getting on your tippy toes to have him reach further inside of you. "Does it? It shouldn't. Bad girls don't get to feel good." He punctuates roughly with his hips, making you yelp. He spanks you hard, stinging heat blooming against your ass.
"Noooo, please. I'll be a good dog." You bark out, trying to reach back to soothe your aching butt. He swats your hand away, but chooses not to spank you again. Instead, one hand extends to grab the back of your collar, tugging on it as he roughly hammers into you vigorously. You moan loudly, pussy clenching as you feel your orgasm building inside of you. "Mm! I'm coming!" You whine, to which he slows down. "No! Why?!" You groan, trying to push your hips further onto his length. He laughs, smugly. "You don't come until I say you can." He pulls out and you cry annoyingly, he flips you over to lay your back on his desk, and he takes in the state of your face. Your eyes are big and wet, and your mouth is pouty and slick with drool. His hand cradles your cheek, smoothing over your skin and the leather strap of the muzzle. Your legs spread wide instinctively and your tail wags strongly as he moves to align himself to your entrance once more. He slips into your pussy and resumes where he left off easily, eyes now focused on your perfect, parted lips whining and whimpering from under your muzzle.
He circles his thumb around your clit while having his other hand hold your leg high, pummeling deeper into you as your eyes roll back. Your pussy spasms around his cock, your legs and tail shaking as you squeal his name, his thumb rubbing faster against you as he spills inside of you with one last thrust, pelvis flush against you to fill you entirely, "Ah, good girl." He groans, almost lovingly patting your side while he pulls out with a loud squelch followed by his spend pouring out of you. Your tail thumps loudly against the desk as you bask in your post-orgasmic bliss, hands moving to unfasten the muzzle around your face. He tosses the muzzle aside and captures your chin to kiss you deeply, running his tongue along your canines. He breaks away, your thick drool connecting to his lip. "That's a good fucking girl." He says breathlessly.
You lean forward and kiss his bald head with puppy licks.