He kneels upright—playful, proud, and hard. The mask tilts with curiosity, the paws raised in mimicry, the cock pointing with certainty. There’s no doubt in his body. He’s not wondering if he’s doing it right. He already knows.

This isn’t about degradation. It’s about clarity. The posture, the gear, the exposed cock—they don’t diminish him. They affirm him. This is what a good boy looks like when he knows he’s being praised. When the role isn’t a costume, but a truth he wears with pride.