– Fido’s Story Continued –
He had held out hope that, given time, the ache would go away, or at least diminish in scope. After all, who in their right mind would actually want to be an animal! It wasn’t…normal, or natural. He went to a couple of therapists, but the shame of admitting his fantasies and desires to them always led him to abandon the effort after a session or two. He was terrified that talking about it would simply normalize it for him, but he didn’t want it to be normal, he wanted these thoughts…gone. Instead, they calcified, and hardened, and grew heavier. Nothing seemed to be getting better, and he felt like he was stuck carrying around some awful secret, worse than when he’d still been in the closet, because if he told anyone about this…no, he couldn’t imagine what that might even look like.
He still had sex, on occasion, but every instance now was rife with anxiety. He had a hard time getting erect, and the only time he managed to cum with someone else was jacking off while they fucked him doggy style. Thinking about what it would be like to be owned by them. To be their dog, imaging what kind of dog he might even be. He studied breeds in his spare time, thinking about them all–he couldn’t believe how many varieties there even were! In his perusal, he also discovered pup play, and it quickly became his only porn. He…dreamed of trying it out for himself, one day, but would it even be enough, just pretending? He knew it wouldn’t, so then why bother with it? If anything, it would probably just make his ache worse.
He had less and less sex, as the months wore on, and spent more time at the park, and several other dog parks around town. Should he get a dog himself? No, he’d just be jealous of the mutt, and that wasn’t fair. He went on a few dates with guys he knew who had dogs, just…to be around the entire dynamic of master and pet. He’d get a vicarious thrill, just being there as they walked the dog, or played catch, but even that stopped scratching the itch soon. The dreams grew more intense, and some days he would wake up and just cry for an hour, before being able to face work. Something was going to snap–but he didn’t know what, or when, or how.
It was a relief, in a sense, when Joel surprised him, and sat down on the bench beside him at the park one afternoon. He’d gone through the entire summer now, and as fall and the rains were approaching, fewer and fewer pups were out to watch. He begged Joel to fix him, that he was sorry for what he’d said and done, but he didn’t know how he could live with this, with himself. He’d been thinking of suicide, he lied, but he also thought it might become true soon enough. Joel just listened, and it was only after a few minutes that he noticed the older bear had a wrapped present in his lap, and he stopped speaking. Joel noticed where his attention had gone, and smiled.
“For you,” he said and handed him the package, “Be a good boy, now. Maybe I’ll see you this weekend.”
“Be a good boy.” His cock was rock hard at the words, and he whined, unable to help himself. Joel just chuckled, then stood up and went on his way, whistling, leaving him there on the bench, clutching the gift, hands shaking. He should throw it in the trash. He should throw it in the trash, and then go back to work–he did have to go back to work, didn’t he? Maybe…maybe he didn’t. He went home instead, the package under his arm, and tore into it once he got there, shaking as he pulled the items inside out, one by one. A collar. A buttplug with a dog tail. Mitts for his hands. Knee pads. A pup mask. A collar. He laid them all out, gently, on the floor, like they were deadly weapons, and just stared at them for a long while. Throw them away, he told himself. You can’t give into this, it’s not right. It’s not normal to want any of this.
Two hours later, he was on his hands and knees in front of the mirror, staring at himself in the gear, cock rock hard and leaking cum. Closer–he felt so much closer like this. He’d imagined it would feel like a complete disappointment–but instead he felt so…happy, he couldn’t stop himself from giving a loud bark, rolling over, and jacking his cock with both paws until he shot all over his belly like a good boy, a very good boy indeed. Then came the shame, and he stripped out of the stuff as quickly as he could, and got right in the shower, shaking in anger at himself for giving in like that. He’d throw it all away, that was the only option. He got the box, intending to load it all back in there and throw it right out, when he noticed an envelope in the bottom he hadn’t seen before. He opened it, and read the short note inside.
You can find me at Pigtown, Saturdays and Sundays. Be yourself, pup, and let’s have some fun together.
Bracken's Corner 