Police Dogs – Episode 2 (Part 3)

Chance tried to shove the badger away, but the dingo shifted his paws and grabbed Chance by the wrists, allowing Geoff the chance to throw the collar around Chance’ neck, slip it through the buckle and pull it tight. However, Chance pulled away from him while he was about to latch it, and the collar pulled too tight; the buckle cinching his neck uncomfortably for a moment, until it seemed to relax…though everything felt so…strange all of a sudden. Dingo let him go, assuming he would be under control now that the collar was on him, and Chance stumbled slightly, the room a bit…off kilter.

“Now look at what you went and made me do, pup–got the collar on too tight. Oh well, nothing to be done about it, I suppose. Now, are you going to be a good boy for me and officer Dingo here?”

At the words good boy, Chance moaned slightly, and felt his cock tent in the front of his slacks. “I…What the fuck is this thing?” He said, his hands going for the collar, but Geoff grabbed them before they could start testing the latch.

“Now now, good boys leave their collar right where it belongs, don’t they?”

Chance moaned again, and found himself nodding along. It…did feel good, to be a good boy, and if he wanted to be a good boy, the collar needed to stay on…didn’t it? He knew the logic didn’t make any sense, that he should be fighting this, but he nodded anyway. He was going to have to play along with this, if he wanted to get out of this mess–that, and he was going to have to try and get Angus to come to his senses, if he wasn’t already too far gone. He looked at the badger in front of him, and was a bit…confused. Before, he’d been taller than him by quite a few inches, but now, he was…taller? He looked around, over at Angus near them, and found he had to crane his neck up quite a bit to see him. “Did…did you get taller?”

“Nope, you got shorter,” Geoff said, “These collars of mine have quite a few tricks–but it only goes one way. Dingo there–he could get bigger, if I want, but you, since it tightened once, you can only get smaller now. Still, that’s not a bad thing, is it? I don’t think so–the two of you will be kind of cute together on the force, big Dingo and little…well, we don’t have a name for you yet, do we?”

The Badger stroked the side of Chance’ face with one of his claws, and he flinched away–though he felt and doing so, because he knew it would make the badger–Master, his head wanted to call him–mad, but Geoff just laughed. “Yeah, you have some fire in you–more than your sorry husband had–he rolled over for me right away, that one, was begging me for more not two days later. How about…Demon? I think that will be a good name for a fiery guy like you. I can already tell you’re going to be a bad boy. That’s ok–breaking bad pups is more fun anyway. Now, be a good boy, get down on your knees, and suck Dingo’s cock–why don’t you see what your husband has been hiding from you all week? He’s eager to show you now, trust me.”

The badger pressed down on Chance’ shoulders, forcing him to his knees, and Dingo–Angus, Chance had to keep telling himself, reminding himself that his husband was trapped somewhere in that fat dog’s body– bellied up to him, his paws already clawing open the fly of his uniform pants, while his tongue lolled out of his maw, drooling with excitement. Angus had been weird, ever since that traffic stop, and Chance realized that not once had he seen his husband completely naked–something which he would have noticed, if he hadn’t been busy. Now, the cock he was looking at was nothing like Angus’s cock had been, the angry red color, slick from the sheath it had emerged from. He shut his lips tight, fighting against the collar and the badger’s commands as hard as he could, determined not to give into this.

“Now pup, come on, open up,” the badger said, gripping Chance’ jaw in his hand, and squeezing the sides of his mouth until he had to open them. Dingo took advantage of the opening, and forced his cock into Chance’ mouth–it tasted…foul to him, but Dingo and Geoff weren’t about to let Chance off now that he’d opened up. Dingo wrapped both paws around the back of Chance’ head and started fucking him deeper, while the badger got down close, whispering into Chance ear how good it felt to be a good boy, how nice his partner’s cock tasted, how horny he was, being a good, cocksucking pup. As hard as Chance tried to resist it, the words were worming their way into his mind all the same, lulling him, and he fought a bit less, his hands finding their way around Dingo’s thick thighs, pulling the big mutt into him–just a little at first, but then more. He…he wanted his cock. He loved sucking cock, after all. He was…he was a good boy…yeah, a real good boy…

Police Dogs – Episode 2 (Parts 1 & 2)

Chance had been trying not to panic. Angus had told him he was getting drinks with a friend and that he might be out late, which was usually code for Angus hooking up with someone. It didn’t bother Chance necessarily, though he always liked to know where he was going and who he was meeting. He’d asked for details, and Chance had sent him the name of a bar he didn’t know well…but none of that was really cause to worry. He made dinner, but Angus didn’t show, so he ate by himself and put the rest in the fridge for him when he got home. The evening wore on into night, and Chance found himself checking his phone every few minutes, resisting the urge to text him, and when he finally did…he got no response. Not even a read notification from him. Still, he’d have to check it at some point, right?

Chance had gotten ready for bed and laid down, but couldn’t stop checking his phone, and certainly couldn’t get to sleep not knowing what was going on. He ended up going downstairs for a snack and to watch some TV. It was after midnight when he finally dozed off, and his alarm went off for work at six the next morning…and Angus still wasn’t home, and he still hadn’t received any word back from him.

There had to be a rational explanation right? This…wasn’t normal behavior, but Angus had been behaving a bit…oddly for the last few days, ever since that embarrassing stop by that cop. Chance had…an inkling of what might have happened between his husband and the cop that night, while they’d spent a few minutes back behind the car, but he hadn’t really wanted to believe it had actually happened. Was there something else going on entirely, that Chance didn’t know about? Angus had, on rare occasion, slept over with someone he hooked up with. Most likely he had gotten too drunk to drive, and maybe too drunk to remember to text him, and he’d ended up sleeping over on accident. Still, even if the explanation was reasonable, it didn’t do much to settle the anxiety brewing in his gut.

He got ready for work, expecting and hoping that Angus would burst in and everything would be fine. Chance would be…angry, sure, but mostly, he just wanted to know that he was safe. He never appeared, and Chance left him a note, and then went to work. He couldn’t focus though. He kept checking his phone, kept trying to call and message, but now…now his texts and calls didn’t even seem to be getting through, like Angus’s phone was in airplane mode, or dead. He ended up taking a break and calling the office here Angus worked–but no one there had seen or heard from him either–which was very unlike him. Chance told his manager he needed to leave to take care of an emergency–which he was very much hoping it wasn’t, went home, but Angus still wasn’t there…and so, he called the police.

The operator he spoke to was very empathetic, but told him that the police didn’t open a missing persons investigation until someone had been missing for 48 hours. In the meantime, she told Chance to call the last place he knew he’d been–and gently suggested calling local hospitals, and asking about any recent admissions without ID. Chance couldn’t even begin to think about what that might mean, and so he found the number for the bar Angus had texted him and called them, wondering if they had seen him. To his surprise, no one remembered him, or anyone like him, visiting. He had them check for a purchase with their shared cards, but there was no record of any transaction. Had Angus lied to him? If he had…then why?

He put off calling hospitals for a few more hours, but did eventually, mostly because the anxiety of not knowing was worse than the most dire possibility. He didn’t know whether he should be happy or not, when none of the hospitals in the city turned up any record of Angus being admitted, or of any John Doe’s matching his description. It was like he had just…vanished. Had he left? Why would he leave? Why would he want to leave and make Chance this miserable? None of it made any sense, but there was nothing else that he could do, aside from wait.

The knock on his door surprised him, but he rushed for it anyway. Any news was good news at this point, at least he would know. He flung open the door, but it wasn’t Angus, even though that wouldn’t have made any sense. Instead, he found himself looking at two police officers in uniform. In front was a short, stocky badger, smiling at him, and behind him was a nearly seven foot tall, massive, dog. He too as smiling, but he didn’t seem…nearly as nice as the shorter badger–if anything, it was…menacing. “Hello, we’re here about a possible missing person,” the badger said, “Do you mind if we come in?”

Chance stepped aside and the two officers entered, and he was relieved that someone was doing something at least…though it was odd all the same. “I…I thought the police couldn’t do anything until after 48 hours? That’s what the operator told me when I called.”

The badger nodded, “Well, there have been a few…incidents, similar to this one lately. I wanted to investigate it early, before…well, I can’t really provide details about ongoing investigations, but time is of the essence in these cases.”

“Of course, anything I can do to help.”

The hefty dog didn’t say anything, just sniffed around a bit, looking…slightly confused. Chance noticed he had on a collar, which was odd. Most dogs didn’t wear collars–it tended to send the wrong sort of message. In fact, there was something else odd about this. He had given the operator his name and phone number–but he couldn’t recall giving her his address. He must have though–how else would the officers have found him? Now that he thought about it again, he must have. That was the only thing that made sense after all, and he wasn’t exactly sure of whether he was coming or going at the moment, anyway, to be sure of, well, anything.

The badger sat him down in the living room, and started asking him what seemed like fairly normal questions. Where Angus worked, whether he’d had plans the night before, whether he had any hobbies, anything that he might be doing. Chance answered honestly…but the questions seemed a bit…general, somehow. Every time he tried to give him details about how Angus had been acting oddly, or about the bar he’d told him about, the badger didn’t seem interested in those parts of the story at all. At the same time, the badger sitting in front of him seemed…familiar, somehow, but he couldn’t quite place him. It was after the interview had been going for a little while, that Chance had an epiphany–the badger in front of him was the same badger who had stopped him and Angus a few nights ago, on their way home from the city.

Was it a coincidence? Maybe it was…but why would a cop be out patrolling the highway late at night one day, and investigating missing people the next? It didn’t make sense. The badger’s partner was a bit…off putting as well. He kept nosing around the room, sniffing things out, but he still hadn’t said a word since stepping in the door. As the questions became more personal, asking about Angus’s family, asking about Chance’ family–which didn’t have anything to do with Angus being missing–and he finally asked the badger for his name and badge number. The badger just smiled, gave a whistle, and before Chance could do anything, the dog had rushed over, planted his thick paws on Chance’s shoulders, and had him pinned to the chair he was sitting on.

“Good boy,” the badger said, “Thankfully, you were slow enough to catch on that I got more than enough information for my purposes. That means we can skip right to the fun.” He stood up, slid one paw into his pocket, and pulled out a leather collar, similar to the one the dog looming over him had on. “Well, I can tell you one thing for sure, Chance–your husband isn’t missing. He’s right behind you.”

Chance looked at the badger, and then up at the rough dog above him, confused. “What…what are you talking about?”

“Well, on Saturday, when I pulled the two of you over, Chance…really did not want to go to jail that night, so I offered him a trade of sorts–suck my cock, and I could look the other way…but you probably knew about that, didn’t you? You don’t seem surprised by it. Did you tell that husband of yours what you did Dingo?”

The big dog shook his head, “No sir, I…I didn’t say anything about it.”

“Aww, were you embarrassed Dingo? Didn’t what your husband finding out how much more you like sucking my cock than his?”

“Shut the fuck up, I don’t know what fucking kind of joke this is, or if he’s in on it, but fuck you. Where’s my fucking husband?” Chance said. He tried to force his way up, but the dog leaned over further, pressing him back down, and he felt a blob of drool land on the top of his head.

“I already told you–he’s right there,” the badger said, fished around in his pocket again, and this time came up with Angus’s phone–and his wallet. “Looks like you’ve been messaging him plenty, lots of missed calls. I would have set up a rendevouz elsewhere, but he forgot his passcode, didn’t you Dingo?”

“Sorry sir,” Dingo said.

“He’s not too bright, that man of yours–good thing he’s got so much else going for him.”

“This isn’t fucking possible,” Chance said, “Look–if this is some…prank, or if I fucked up, just…just have Angus come out already, this isn’t fucking funny, alright?”

“Well, I suppose I can’t say I’m surprised that you don’t recognize him, but that’s the magic of the collar I suppose. He’s so much better as a good boy, than he ever was as a man, right Dingo?”

“Yes sir!” the dog said, “I’d much rather be master’s good boy, sir.”

“What do you think, Dingo, think this one-time husband of yours might make a good pup too?”

Dingo nodded, flinging more drool around, and Chance realized the thing pushing into the back of his neck was the dingo’s erect cock. He tried again to get up, but Dingo gripped him harder, digging his claws in enough to poke Chance through the shirt he was wearing, while the badger approached, collar between his claws, the grin on his face even wider, as Chance tried to pull away from him.

“Now now, don’t fight–you’ll feel so much better soon enough. If you’re a real good boy, I might let you top that husband of yours later, would you like that? Or were you usually the one getting topped, I wonder? That’s probably more likely–that blow job of his was pretty lackluster before I slipped his collar on him back there behind the car. After that…well, he was plenty eager, just like you’ll be I bet.”

Spook Mart (Part 11)

This is the final installment of the Spook Mart series–I hope you all enjoyed them! Next month, I think, since holidays are a time for families, the next interactive is going to be focused on some family bonding, but I don’t have the details hammered out yet. In any case, the first episode will be up later this week or next.


He was going to escape this. Ferris pushed the fear away as best he could, and focused on what mattered most–his tether. None of this was real–well, it was real in a sense, but not in the sense that mattered most. These spirits, they used the life force of the people who wandered too deep in dreams as food, but also as fuel. Everything here…it was coming from him, but it was that spirit controlling things, turning his own mind against him. The beasts growled louder, shaking the cage, and he lost focus for a moment, but regained it. He pressed against the bars of his cage, trying to will himself beyond them, knowing that they weren’t really there, but it was no use. All of it was no use, there…there was nothing he could do.

He lost the feel of it, and couldn’t grip it again, and fear took hold instead, and he could feel himself changing again, changing more, teeth growing into tusks, new hair growing across his smooth body, but not human hair, it was rough, and stank of fear and weakness. HIs skin turned to hide, but in the rare moments of clarity, he could still feel it, still feel the body, his body, lying in the bed, back in the world he came from, and still he resisted.

The spirit, perhaps growing impatient, returned, hauled him out of the cage, and began violating him again as before, raping him, but assaulting his mind…but Ferris had a plan now. Outside of the cage, he felt…free. There was nothing blocking him from the tether, and so, he gripped it, and with all of his mental will, he dragged himself up out of the nightmare, towards the world…but too late, he realized that he wasn’t returning alone.

The beast, the nightmare, it was clinging to him, inside him. In his mind, in his soul, and as they slid out of the dream realm and back into the real world, it followed him inside his body as well. This, he realized, is what the monster had really wanted. It hadn’t been trying to simply eat him–no, it had wanted him to escape all along, after he was compromised, and now…now there was too much inside his body, and he was too weak to keep fighting–just getting out had sapped the last of his power.

There was a great release of energy, and Ferris screamed–or he tried to scream, at least. The tether snapped–he was not just outside of his body, he was severed from it–and it was the nightmare inside it now, taking the place of his soul. But he wasn’t dead, and he wasn’t falling back into the dream–all of that energy, so much of it, it had mass, and Ferris found himself on the floor of the bedroom beside the bed, trapped in some small, husk of a body, not even human, not really anything at all–and he was sure he would have died, had the nightmare not sat up, chuckling, and slid off the bed and onto the floor next to him.

“Thank you, mortal–I’ve been wanting to try being alive for so very long now, and you’re the first human stupid enough to give me the chance. But don’t worry, I don’t want to see you go, and we had such great fun in your dreams, didn’t we?”

The spirit laid his hand on the mass of flesh where Ferris was trapped, and he felt more energy flowing into him–but not his energy. No, it was…more of that same corruption as before, and after a few minutes, Ferris was able to breathe, and see…and he saw what he was, and he felt spirit grip his mind in the clutch of its power, and break it.

Ferris’s found himself in the same fat, hairy, stinking form as he’d been in the dream–or at least, Ferris would have, if Ferris existed any longer, after the spirit rent him. No–the beast wasn’t anyone, not anymore. The beast was a slave, a slave to the master, the master that inspired so much fear in the beasts guts that it would do anything to please him. The spirit, realized that the human cock it now possessed was hard–it had seen these often enough that it knew what it was for…and it was eager to try it. The spirit turned the beast around and fucked it, roughly, experiencing the pleasure of sex for the first time–and knowing it wouldn’t be the last. Still, if it was going to survive here, in this body, it would need more energy soon–still, it could sense so many mortals around it, everywhere, and so many terrors in their hearts.

Perhaps it would make a few more beasts for its pleasure–or perhaps it would just terrify them to death. The only thing the spirit knew for sure was that now that it was out of the realm of dreams, it wouldn’t be going back without a fight.

THE END

When I read yours what you write, I feel like all the guys are white, am I wrong?

I do my best not to encode the things I write with any real obvious race–which means that yeah, I suppose they end up as a sort of default, which would mean they are basically white. I think that in TF fiction, most depictions of race end up coming across as stereotypes and caricatures, especially when the story uses racial TF, and that isn’t something I feel is particularly appropriate. There’s a fine line that can be walked between diversity and representation on one hand, and caricature on the other, and I suppose that the risk of the latter is high enough that I shy away from giving characters any real racial identity at all. I could do better at this–most writers could–but I think what is really missing from the genre are authors of color writing these sorts of things, or at least, I haven’t found many authors of color writing this sort of thing. If you know of any, let me know, and I’d be happy to give them a signal boost.

have you ever wondered how much your story may have influenced the lives of your readers? (I’m not talking about mastubation)

On one hand, they’re just stories–I don’t really think they are powerful enough to convince someone to do something they weren’t already going to do at some point. On the other hand, it is fun to think about, and I do get the occasional message from people claiming that my stories turned them on to things they had never considered. I think my stories are better at opening doors, than they are at making people walk through them, if that makes sense.

Are you into all the fetishes you write about. And what would you say is your hottest fetish. Like the one that just gets you going every time. Also what was the first fetish you were into. Love your work

I am into pretty much every fetish I write about, and have experienced a good number of them at this point. As far as my favorite fetish, it would have to be raunch and rimming–I do love the smell and taste of a dirty hole. As far as my first fetish is concerned, I would say it was a fetish for bears and older men.

I’ve never been interested in scat until I found your tumblr about 2 months ago. Now I can’t get enough of your stories. Whether it’s about scat, piss, diapers, ABDL, gaining, rednecks all of it. And right now I’m considering for the first time just going to the bathroom taking a shit in my hand and eating it. Should I?

I think you totally should. I think you should do all of the above, honestly, but I tend to be a bad influence on people, so you might not want to listen to me.

Any ideas for the continuation of Max Meets Junior? I’m in suspense at the next episode

I had some vague ideas on how to continue it, but that story is years old at this point, and pretty much on permanent hiatus. The basic plot going forward was that as Max falls deeper under Junior’s powers, he grows older and older still, and finds he can manipulate other people himself. In the end, Junior ended up abandoning him for someone else he found more interesting, and leaves Max as a decrepit old man.