Cleaning House (Part 3)

I woke to the smell of fried breakfast and made my way downstairs in just my boxers. I wouldn’t have normally, but after our conversation the previous night I felt like it was the right thing to do. And by the look on Joe’s face when I walked into the kitchen, I realised it was definitely the right thing to do. “There’s me boy! Have a seat and I’ll serve up”. It was the first time that I ended up with more on my plate than he did. But I ate it all and gave a massive belch after. “Now that’s how ter compliment the chef!” he bellowed with a big laugh. “Now, don’t be thinkin’ yer gettin’ outta yer regular duties now, just ‘cause I’m feedin’ ya. Git the kitchen clean, ‘n then I’ll have a list of chores outside fer ya.”

The tone he used with me that morning–it was different. He’d been fairly easy going so far, and had been happy with whatever work I’d done around those house. I don’t think he cared, to be honest, as long as everything ended up cleaner than it usually was. But in the kitchen, washing up, I felt his eyes on me from the doorway, and I felt…uncomfortable. He’d seen me in my boxers before, of course, but this was the first time I felt like he was really looking at me–or…enjoying looking at me.

Did he enjoy looking at me? I was afraid to ask. Had he noticed how much I’d enjoyed looking at him? He came up behind me and gave me a light slap on my ass, and I felt it jiggle. He chuckled. “Next time yer in town, buy yerself some briefs. They’ll be more comfortable.”

“I’ve always worn boxers though.”

“Yeah, but ya ain’t been close tah 250 pounds before. Tomorrow, when ya do the shoppin’, buy a pack of briefs–and a couple jockstraps.”

“I don’t like wearing jockstraps for sure.”

“Just do it.”

So the next day, on the rest of the shopping list, he’d added the two items there at the bottom, and I bought them. I wasn’t sure how to feel about him telling me what kind of underwear to buy, but honestly…I felt good doing it, and maybe a bit humiliated I suppose. Still, he was…firmer over the next few months, and as large as the meals were, the work never seemed to stop either. My routine was eating, working and sleeping. He decided it would be a good idea to keep a record of my growth, and I was surprised by how quickly I was growing. I now had a nice big round belly that hung down, hiding my belt, a big chest which was both muscle and fat and my arms were nearly twice the size of when I first started working for Joe. I hit 280, and kept going strong.

As fall came and the weather turned, there was less and less work to do outside, beyond raking leaves and getting the cabin ready for the winter. One afternoon, on one of my days off, Joe and I were sitting in the front room. He was playing his games and I was sitting there eating a stack of sandwiches with crisps and drinking beer he’d made, and told me to eat. I’d gotten into a habit of belching loudly as Joe never seemed to mind. In fact he seemed to enjoy it, and praised me whenever I let off an extra loud one. Still, after he’d started feeding me more, I’d found he was less and less interested in me playing games with him, and so I found myself just watching, and snacking–always snacking. Well, I’d pretend to be watching the game, but more often I was watching him sit there, stuffing his face with the snacks I’d bring him, drinking beer, smoking fags and cigars. I’d get so horny, actually, that I’d developed a bit of a…habit of sneaking off to the bathroom down the hall to jack off when I couldn’t stand it anymore, and then returning after flushing away the evidence.

“I gotta go take a piss,” I said.

I heaved myself up, but before I could take a step, Joe spoke, “Ya sure ya gotta piss? Ya don’t usually piss in there, ya know. Usually yer in there wackin’ off.”

I can’t imagine how red my face must have gotten, but I was so startled I couldn’t even deny it.

“Take off those pants and sit back down, boy.”

Boy–fuck, he’d called me boy. Did he know? He had to know at this point, if he knew about me jacking off. Still, I did as he said, and dropped my sweats and stepped out of them. I was wearing a pair of the briefs he’d made me buy, but they were tight at this point.

“That’s a good boy, wearing your whities like that. Now, if ya wanna jack off, ya can do it here. In fact, I wanna see it, so get to it.”

“I…Look, I, it was a mistake, I’m sorry.”

He looked over at me and smiled, “Nothin’ that’s happened here so far has been a mistake boy, trust me. I’m gettin’ what I want–I always do.”

He paused his game and hefted himself up, lumbered over in front of me. His belly, just hanging there, was so…huge, and a bit of drool fell out of my mouth as I stared at it, and then looked up. He ran a hand down my belly to my crotch, and groped me cock and balls with his big hand. “Plenty hard–yer ready. So do it boy. Shoot that load a yers intah those whities.”

I tried to protest again, but he grabbed my wrist, and forced my hand down to my crotch…and I gave in. He stood there, looming in front of me, stroking my belly and teasing my nipples, and in less than a minute, I exploded, the load filling the front of my briefs. I felt…awful. I felt humiliated. I was so turned on, that I didn’t know what I wanted, other than it to never stop.

Are pigtown and Arctos rival, or sister companies?

As Mister Peanutbutter would say, “What is this, a crossover episode?”

Yes, season 4 drops in three days, and I just binged the whole thing again shut up.

As for the question:

Pigtown is not a company. It doesn’t make money, it doesn’t charge anything at the bar, it doesn’t have any conventional business goals. It’s just a place, localized around a bar. Similarly, I’m not sure I would really call Arctos a company either, since they seem to be much more interested in giving their products away for free, than they are in making money. They don’t seem to have much of a corporate infrastructure, and their corporate headquarters listed on the website is probably an empty warehouse, or just a field. 

This probably seems beside the point, I suppose, but I do feel like mentioning the fact that both of these settings are designed to mimic capitalism in some senses, but the logic by which they function isn’t capitalistic at all–it’s just predatory expansion with all of the trapping stripped away. So, to ask what their relationship is as competitors over an assumed market-share is just…not a very good question, I suppose. Or, to put that another way, if it’s a question you think has an answer that makes sense, you’re doing a couple of things:

  1. You’re trying to construct a larger world around these stories, and trying to fit them all into some framework which, as I’ve said before, is going to be a fool’s errand, because I purposefully don’t structure my stories in this fashion. These aren’t worlds, they’re settings. It’s just window dressing and McGuffin deployment for whatever is going on in my head at the moment.
  2. You’re rarefying Capitalist superstructure, please stop. Not everything can be symbolized through the terms and machinery of Capitalism. I understand that drive and compulsion to do so, because so much of our lives are dominated by the processes of the Capitalist system, but if you try and apply that shit to my stories, you’ll only end up misunderstanding them.

Beyond Capitalism, however, Pigtown and Arctos don’t exist together in my head, if they really exist at all, as concepts static enough to be understood as something with enough permanence to exist in relation to something else. I could, I suppose, forsee a story in which the two co-exist and independent and competing plot devices, but I have a hard time even imagining how that would work in my head, because for the two to be placed into conflict with one another, they would have to be given motives…but neither of the entities really possess enough awareness or agency to even become a solid character and enter into conflict, and if they did, they would lose the very qualities I enjoy about them the most–their fundamental inconsistency over time.

None of this is really an answer, I suppose, or at least, not the answer you were looking for. Your frame of reference is wrong, and you’re searching for a deeper level of content which I’m purposefully omitting. It’s like the tank where they filmed “The Loveboat”–the water’s only two inches deep, but the future is bright, just look at it.

I love reading your stories. In the future, can you start tagging the title of the story as well? That way if you mention it in an ask and we’re on the mobile app, we can also go back to the story and read it. :)

Yeah, I should do that, but I can’t promise that I will. In all honesty, my archive needs a whole lot more organization, because as good as tumblr is as a blog format, it’s capacity as an archive with any kind of search function or readability is dismal. 

That said, as per my Patreon goals, a comprehensive story archive of all of my work is in the works! I have no word on release date or anything as of this time, but as soon as I can the basic archive working, I’ll open it up and begin adding the massive backlog of stories to it over time. That way, in the future, I’ll be able to post stories here, and then also post them in the archive once they’re finished. Ideally, I’d also like to be able to link stories together which exist in the same settings, so that it’s easier to, say, find a story set in pigtown, or one involving Arctos industries, without having to remember a specific title.

Cleaning House (Part 2)

Two weeks later, I’d left my place and moved in with Joe. My room in the cabin was big and had an en-suite so I could ‘have my privacy’, as Joe put it.

Over the next month or so I worked hard enough to just collapse onto my bed after dinner, which always consisted of large meals. Joe could cook really well and the smells coming from the kitchen were always so tempting. He could cook anything it seemed, and he cooked a lot. Because I always wore jogging bottoms and an old t-shirt when I was cleaning, it wasn’t until Joe paid my first month and I went to go into town to pay it into my account that I noticed I’d put on a bit of weight. I struggled into my biggest clothes and noticed that my belly was hinting that it wanted to pour over my belt. My t-shirt did nothing to hide this new addition to my body. Everything was so tight. “See yer’ve put on a bit o’ weight.”. Joe was leaning against my bedroom door watching me looking at myself in the mirror.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to buy some new clothes I think.” I felt myself getting warm. There was something about Joe mentioning my weight and wearing these tight clothes that I really liked.

I came back from town after spending all my money on clothes and some snacks which I found surprising. I didn’t normally fancy snacking but I really wanted some. I would just work harder and build up a sweat to compensate for the extra weight I was putting on. And as the house didn’t require much of an upkeep now that I had blitzed it since I moved in, I asked if there was anything outside that I could do. Joe had me chopping wood for the winter, clearing out the garage, moving heavy equipment and more. I thought cleaning the house when I first arrived was tiring, but this was something else. I didn’t mind doing it though. I know I was earning minimum wage but that didn’t seemed to be the main driving force behind all the work. I enjoyed it. And the evenings were fun because we were always having a laugh and playing games on the multitude of consoles. Joe kept his rpg’s to during the day when I was busy.

It was a few months later that Joe said he was going to take me out for a meal to thank me for all the hard work so I got dressed and noticed that again I was bigger, but I put it down to extra muscle from all the outdoor work. I walked into the front room and Joe looked at me and a smile crept onto his face. “Look nice n’ smart there.”

“Yeah, I’m slightly bigger though. I should’ve bought a few sizes up.”

“Suits ya. Makes ya look more… manly.” he smiled nicely so I took it to mean a compliment. “Oh, and we’re goin’ all ya c’n eat food place. I’m famished and I’m guessing ya must be pretty ‘ungry yaself.” I agreed. I was starving. I was used to craving certain foods. Like pizza, burgers, even salad. But I didn’t crave any of those. What I craved was food. Just food. I didn’t care what it was, I just felt like eating!

I had never eaten so much in my life! I excused myself when we got back to go and lay down as I was really tired. I lay there after taking my clothes off which were so restricting – that was a relief – and dozed off thinking about all the food I had eaten.

I was woken by someone shaking me. I looked up to see Joe standing there with a plate in one hand and a milkshake in the other. “Thought you’d be ‘ungry. You’ve bin ‘sleep fer a few hours.” I was about to say that I wasn’t, but I actually was. I thanked him and he left me eating the food and drinking the milkshake. Afterwards I walked into the front room completely forgetting to put on a top. I sat down and took some peanuts from the bowl next to my seat. I was there eating them and realised that I’d never done that before, but it felt natural to eat them so I didn’t think about it again. Joe said that I was sporting quite a belly and I looked down and I was! It was sticking right out and over my belt.

“I knew ya enjoyed ya growin’ build despite what ya’ve bin sayin’. It really suits ya bein’ bigger. Have yer thought about bein’ bigger still?”

“Uhm, well, not really. I mean, I’ve noticed my clothes aren’t fitting as well as they did. But putting weight on on purpose? I mean, it’s weird isn’t it?” I panicked wondering whether he would take that as an insult to his size.

“Nowt weird about it. Lot of people like puttin’ on weight n’ gettin’ bigger. Hell, how’d ya think I got this size?” As he said that, he slapped his gut and it rippled, and he laughed. “If ya want to get bigger, I c’n help ya. Ya already got a good appetite and ya bin buildin’ up bit of muscle from bein’ outside, but if ya wanna go further…”

I sat there. I was seriously thinking about it. I would’ve laughed it off if anyone else had said it, but I trusted him not to make fun of me. “Yes. I would love to get bigger.”, I said with conviction and a confidence I was surprised at.

“Great! I knew ya’d come ‘round. Git yerself some sleep, ‘cause we got a big day tahmorrow.”

September Story Suggestions (OPEN) | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

A friendly reminder for everyone supporting me on Patreon: submissions are open for September’s requested stories! Do you have an idea that you’d like to see, or a fetish you’d like me to incorporate? Here’s where you can suggest it (or you can always send me a private message on Patreon, if you’d rather keep your request more private). I’ll keep suggestions open until the 4th or 5th. 

September Story Suggestions (OPEN) | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

Cleaning House (Part 1)

A couple weeks ago, I received a short story submission from a fan, who said I could publish it if I so desired on my site. The story was nice, but a bit short, and it ended just as things were getting to, well, the good parts. So, what follows is the story the fan submitted, lightly edited, which I then went ahead and extended for fun, into something more complete! Hope you all enjoy it.

“All of these jobs look boring.” I thought, throwing down the local newspaper onto the floor. I needed a job. My redundancy money was nearly all gone, but nothing was showing much promise, and the wages were ridiculously low. I couldn’t survive on this money! I went to have a frustration wank in the bathroom and came back and laid back down on the sofa. Looking down at the paper again I saw an advert that I didn’t see before. It read:

“Cleaner required. Minimum wage but meals included. Can also provide accommodation. Sense of humour a must, interested in rpg’s a bonus!”

“Okay,” I said out loud to myself, “That could be helpful. My lease on this place is up in a couple of weeks.” I phoned the number and spoke to a guy that sounded nice. Laid back kind of guy and we had a laugh so he invited me for an interview.

I drove down the lane towards this wooden log cabin. It was out of they way, but I kind of liked it. It was rustic and somehow… homely. I’d already decided that if I got offered the job I would snap it straight up.

I walked up the three steps to the door and then stood there for a minute. Why was I nervous? I’d been on loads of interviews and I wasn’t exactly shy. I put it down to the fact that it was a different kind of job. One that I wasn’t used to doing. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

“C’mon in! S’open!”. I recognised the voice straight away from the phone call. I put on my best smile and opened the door. I wasn’t expecting to see what I saw. The place was a tip. Beer cans, pizza boxes, empty packets of crisps and sweets. They were everywhere. I couldn’t see the floor. It could have been carpeted or plain wood for all I knew. Joe (that was his name by the way) must have seen the look on my face because he laughed “Yeah, now you c’n see why I need a cleaner. Would’ve tidied up, but y’know.” I looked in the direction of the voice and my heart skipped a beat. I knew I was gay, so that wasn’t a shock, but what WAS a shock was my heart skipping a beat and a sudden twinge in my pants when I saw Joe.

He was big. No, that wasn’t good enough. Huge? Humongous? That was getting there. He was sitting there with a fag in his hand, resting it on him enormous belly. His legs were spread wide and his belly hung down almost over the edge of the sofa. But what made him look huge was that it was so wide as well. He had a massive chest which looked muscular and massive arms. It looked like his wrists were as thick as my biceps. He was also bald and sported an impressive manly beard. He certainly wasn’t my normal type. Yeah, I did go for guys with a bit of meat on them, but not this much. And his voice… deep, gravelly and countrified.

He stood up as I made my way over and shook my hand, looking down at me and smiling. He was about six inches taller than me. I could feel activity in my jeans and tried my best to stop myself from getting hard. It was a struggle, but upon thinking of Joe noticing that I was sporting a hard-on made it disappear quickly enough. I really wasn’t sure his views on gay guys and didn’t want to really freak him out. Or worse, send me packing with no job.

He let go of my hand and cleared a load of pizza boxes off a seat and onto the floor. “Have a seat. Fancy a beer?” I declined, saying that I was driving. “Ah, one won’t kill ya. And I promise t’feed ya before ya leave so yer not over limit.” I accepted and he opened a beer with one hand and passed it to me. It looked like a normal can in his hand but as soon as I took it I realised that it was a large can. I nervously took a sip and then tried speaking. “So…”, I just went blank. I didn’t know what to say.

“Haha!”, Joe bellowed out a laugh, “Don’t be nervous. I think we got on okay on t’phone so I think we’ll be okay talking in the real.”

“Heh, yeah.” I said, barely audibly (“heh, yeah? What the fuck was that?” I thought). I took another sip of beer while he paused his game he had obviously been playing when I walked in.

We talked for hours. I’d had a few beers without even noticing and then I was starting to feel hungry and luckily Joe said he was going to order some pizza and within half an hour we were sitting there – one medium pizza for me and two large pizzas for him. Plus sides. He tried to talk me into more food but I told him I don’t have a big appetite. “Ha!” he laughed, “That’ll change when yer livin’ ‘ere.”

“So I’ve got the job then?” I thought I sounded more excited than I probably should have.

“If yer wan’ it, it yours.” he smiled.

A Dog’s Tale (Part 9)

CW: Bestiality

“It was the happiest I’d ever been, being Master Joel’s dog. Everything was so new! It was better than I’d ever dreamed.”

Fido was crying now. He was sitting on the floor in front of me. I’d sat down in my old recliner, smoking my pipe, and listened to my pup finish his story, but here, his voice caught, and he paused. Looking up at me, he knew what my next question had to be, of course.

“If he made you his dog–a real dog…then why are you human now?”

Fido wiped his eyes.

“I was his dog for a year–a year to the day. The next winter, he took me back to Pigtown…and left me there. I became human again, my gear was back, even my old clothes were back, and…and I was a man again. I hurried after him, but he’d just…disappeared. I can’t tell you how sad I was, I thought about jumping in front of a car–I tried to jump in front of a car, several of them, but my body wouldn’t let me. I didn’t find the note in my pocket until a while later, and…in it he told me what I had to do, if I wanted to be a dog again.”

He looked up at me, judging me somehow, wondering about me. Hesitant, but I’d come this far, and I wanted to know. Eventually, he spoke again.

“I had…to find men–men like I’d been before. Businessmen, obsessed with with themselves, obsessed with their work. Vain and prideful. I had to tell them my story–the whole story, with no lies. And then, if after all that, they…if you fuck me, I get to be a dog again. Your dog, sir. Your sexy fucking mutt, and you can fuck me all fucking day long, sir. You’re the sexiest master I’ve seen, and I want to be yours, sir. Please…please, fuck me.”

It was a rush, feeling everything come back to me suddenly. I looked around the room in a panic, I looked down at myself, at this disgusting, fat, hairy, old body I was in now, and I nearly screamed, my pipe falling from my shaking lips and landing on the carpet.

“This…this isn’t me, how did you do this to me?”

“Master, please calm down. It’ll be alright I promise. You…you don’t have to fuck me, sir, I understand. Not everyone I tell the story to does. It has to be your choice. But we could be happy here–you could be happy here. You wouldn’t have come this far if I couldn’t have made you happier than you were.”

Fido stood up, and stripped his way out of the costume. He looked…filthy, under there. Under fed and exhausted. He clutched himself, and I could…see how uncomfortable he was, in his own skin. He got down on his hands and knees, facing away from me, ass in the air. It was…shaking a bit, and I could almost imagine a tail there, at the small of his back, swinging back and forth in eager anticipation, and my own cock–this cock, I mean–was stirring at the thought of giving the mutt a proper plowing, feeling my cock in his tight doggy hole, fuck!

“No, this is fucking sick, this–I’m not some disgusting dog fucker, this is so fucking wrong!”

“I know sir, I know.”

His voice was quiet, just a whisper.

“If I…If there was another way, I’d do it. How do you think it feels for me? You’re…this is the seventh time I’ve done this in the last week, you’re the seventh time I’ve tried, after I lost my last owner a month ago. I hate it, sir. I hate doing this to people, but I need it, sir. Master. I can’t stop, and so…I understand if you leave, I do. I’m…broken, and there’s no fixing me. I’ll find someone eventually though, I always have…I could tell that you’re too–well, you’re not like the others who owned me, sir.”

He turned around and got on his knees, looking at me.

“They were all…cruel, sir. They fucked me because they wanted to control me. I could feel how much they hated me, and everytime, they abandoned me, sir. They got so…disgusted with themselves, that after a year, they’d kick me out, and I’d change back–but they keep their new lives…they forget all about me and my story. But you aren’t cruel, sir. You think you are, but you aren’t. You…remind me of who I was. Following orders, doing what I thought the world was asking of me, but not happy at all. I’m happy now though, happier than I ever thought I could be, and I just…I just know I could make you happy too sir, that you’re happy like this, even though you know you shouldn’t be.”

He picked up my pipe from the floor, tamped it down gently and relit it with a match from the box on the table beside the chair, all while still on his hands and knees. I couldn’t help but feel impressed–proud, even, at his skill. I didn’t…want to admit it to myself, but in a way, he was right. I hadn’t been happy. I’d been lonely, and trying to fill every void with work, and this last evening, just…being. It was the first time I’d felt at peace. This apartment was filthy, I was filthy, but here…here there were no conference calls, and no meetings, and…and was this so bad? No one would have to know, right? That…that I’m a fucking pervert?

Fido crawled over, my pipe in his teeth, and I take it from him, and take a deep draw off the cheap smoke.

“You aren’t going to leave, are you? I don’t…I like you sir. I’ve always wanted to be a dog, sir, but for the first time…I don’t just want to be a dog, I want to be your dog, I think.”

“I bet you tell that to everyone, Fido.”

He shook his head no. I let him take his hand in mine, and pull me back towards the recliner. I stripped off my clothes, looking at my heavyset frame, my rough hands, the tattoos covering my arms and chest. I sat down, and Fido started licking at my feet, and then worked higher until he was licking at my cockhead. I don’t know if it’s too late now–I can…see him changing, and I can feel my memories starting to fade away. He’s…getting a bit smaller now, his arms and legs growing thinner as the hair on his body fills in with a brindle pattern. His ears are shifting up to the top of his head, and I give my pup a scratch behind them as he licks at my manhood, and I…fuck, he’s one sexy fuckin’ mutt, and damn smart too. Always fuckin’ knows what his master needs, that’s for damn sure.

He backs up, turns around, and goes down, presenting his hole to me again…and who the fuck am I kidding? I know I’m gonna fuck it. I’ve…always had a thing for mutts, ever since I was a dumb kid. I get on my knees, chuffin’ on my pipe, and slide into him, trying to ignore the crack of his bones as he changes, the pants and howls of pleasure as he gets what he fuckin’ wants…and to my fuckin’ surprise, the anxiety, the terror…it melts away too. Just a man and his best fuckin’ friend, right? I cum deep in Fido’s hole, and the big mutt–probably some lab hound mix–turns around and starts licking at my face, thanking me.

“Easy boy,” I say, and reach under, feeling how hard his rocket is, slick from his sheath. “I ain’t the only horny fucker here, am I? I sure could use a fuck too–ya up to it boy?”

He gave a loud bark, and I got on my hands and knees in front of him, and like an old pro, Fido got up and fucked his way into me in return, and I knew I’d found a partner for life.

A Dog’s Tale (Part 8)

CW: Bestiality

“Please–please. I know I don’t deserve it. I know you probably don’t even want me, but I need this. I can’t explain it, sir, I can’t, but this is everything that I’ve ever wanted–or, at least, as close as I can get.”

He was on his knees in the light winter snow before Joel, still in the pup gear from the club. The only way he’d been able to catch up was to skip changing entirely, and as terrified as he was that some early morning commuter might see him in this kinky gear, he had to tell Master Joel how he felt. If he had to go through another week hiding this, he didn’t think he’d be able to survive.

Joel looked down at him, appraising him. “And what do you want? What do you really want?”

“To be a dog! A real fucking dog, and I want to be your dog, sir. But you know that! But it’s impossible, I can’t actually…and this is the best I can get, and you’re the best master I…I love you! I love you so hard that I can barely handle being away from you, and you know that and you keep leaving! You just leave me. I know I wasn’t a good person, but I’m trying to be a good pup, sir, I’m trying to make up for it, and…and…” he gave a long, loud whine which seemed to articulate the frustration better than any words could at that moment.

Joel got down, smiling at him, and gave him a pat on the head. “Boy, take a look at yourself, and you might be surprised by what you see.”

Confused, he looked back at himself, and to his surprise, the pup gear he’d had on in the club–it was gone. He was completely naked, but it wasn’t cold, because a thick pelt had grown in all over his body. Looking down at his hands, they were quickly becoming two paws, pads on the fingers and thick claw like nails. He whined again and tried to express his gratitude, but his face was stretching and contorting–before too long, all he could do was bark and yip and jump around on all fours, his bones aching terribly as they shifted into their new forms, but he didn’t care. It was happening! It was really happening to him, he was going to be a dog. He was going to be his master’s dog, and he loved his master so much. He rammed his face into Joel’s crotch, licking at the leather pants he had on, his own cock shifting into a bright red dog cock in a furry sheath, sliding out in excitement. He wasn’t any special dog–just a mutt, really, but he didn’t care. He was a dog, a real dog, just like he’d always wanted to be, and looking up at Master, he knew he would do anything for him, for the rest of his life–however long that might be.

Joel watched the last of the changes of his new dog’s body settle in, the tail fur filling in as it grew to it’s full length, wagging to and fro, his flesh nose darkening to black, and the brightness of his human eyes dulling somewhat, as he lost contact with his humanity. He would still be smarter than your average dog–much smarter, really–but all thoughts of life as a man were locked away. For Fido, the only life he could lead now, was as a dog. “Alright boy–now how about we go home?” Joel said, clipping the lead he’d used in the club to Fido’s collar. He barked in agreement, and together they tromped off down the city blocks, Fido not even feeling the cold, and when they got back to Master’s apartment, he begged for his Master’s cock, just like any good dog should. He licked and licked, and then Master fucked his doggy hole too–it was tight, but it was what Fido wanted–what Fido had always wanted.

“It was the happiest I’d ever been, being Master Joel’s dog. Everything was so new! It was better than I’d ever dreamed.”

Fido was crying now. He was sitting on the floor in front of me. I’d sat down in my old recliner, smoking my pipe, and listened to my pup finish his story, but here, his voice caught, and he paused. Looking up at me, he knew what my next question had to be, of course.

“If he made you his dog–a real dog…then why are you human now?”

Fido wiped his eyes.

“I was his dog for a year–a year to the day. The next winter, he took me back to Pigtown…and left me there. I became human again, my gear was back, even my old clothes were back, and…and I was a man again. I hurried after him, but he’d just…disappeared. I can’t tell you how sad I was, I thought about jumping in front of a car–I tried to jump in front of a car, several of them, but my body wouldn’t let me. I didn’t find the note in my pocket until a while later, and…in it he told me what I had to do, if I wanted to be a dog again.”

He looked up at me, judging me somehow, wondering about me. Hesitant, but I’d come this far, and I wanted to know. Eventually, he spoke again.

“I had…to find men–men like I’d been before. Businessmen, obsessed with with themselves, obsessed with their work. Vain and prideful. I had to tell them my story–the whole story, with no lies. And then, if after all that, they…if you fuck me, I get to be a dog again. Your dog, sir. Your sexy fucking mutt, and you can fuck me all fucking day long, sir. You’re the sexiest master I’ve made, and I want to be yours, sir. Please…please, fuck me.”

A Dog’s Tale (Part 7)

Needless to say, listening to my mutt’s description of that first night out in gear, I was understandably horny as fuck. Still, even in that costume, I could tell he was genuinely sad about the memory–I gave him a scritch behind his ears and that seemed to help him perk up a bit. “Sorry sir, thinking about Joel always makes me a little sad, and I don’t like being sad.”

“Ya don’t gotta be sad Fido–ya sure got me horny as fuck, talkin’ about that shit. I got a bone right here for ya, if ya want boy,” I said, showing off the outline of my hard cock in the crotch of my overalls. Fido stared at it, whined, and then looked away.

“I want to sir, you know I do. But we need to get home, don’t we? And I’m still not done with the story. I can’t…not until I tell you the whole thing, sir.”

“Yeah, probably best not tah fuck mah pup here, where everyone can see, as hot as that would be…” I said, and tapped the ash from my pipe out onto the cement and stood up, sliding it back into my pocket. “Come on boy, let’s catch the next train–I’m feelin’ a whole lot better now.”

“Yes sir!”

I admit, a part of me was still struggling to accept this, a part of me trying to insist that I’d missed some conference call, trying to tell me that my loft was on the opposite side of the city. But every time I tried to get my thoughts in order, the mutt was give me a nuzzle to make sure I was still paying good attention to his story, and so I figured it would be best to give the mutt what he wanted, let him finish, have a fuck, and then I could get my own shit straightened out.

The mutt told me about how horrible he’d felt for the next few days, about how horrible it had felt for giving in like that, but at the same time, it was craving more. It went back the next weekend, and the treatment was much the same–Fido did his very best to please Joel and all of the other men at the bar, but once again, it wasn’t enough. Joel kept abandoning him, time and time again, and he kept trying to understand why every time it happened he was so devastated.

“Finally…I realized I was in love with him. I was in love with him, but he didn’t give two shits about me, not really. I wasn’t…I was a toy, something to play with, I wasn’t a human to him at all. I don’t even know if he saw me as a pet. But I loved him unconditionally. Just seeing him would make me grin from ear to ear, and my tail would wag, and I’d get so excited because he was there again, he was back with me. I’d feel whole again. But then he’d leave–he’d always leave.”

We were off the train now, and walking through some poorly maintained apartment buildings. Fido seemed to know where he was going, and so I was following along behind, smoking my pipe again, now that we were out of the underground. It took me a moment to realize he hadn’t kept speaking, and he was looking back at me with…a strange look in his eyes. A loving look, but also desperate, and it…scared me, honestly. “So what, is that yer story, mutt?” I asked gruffly.

“Almost done. Let’s go in though, sir.”

He pointed to a door to one of the buildings, and I pulled out a thick ring of keys from my pocket, and sure enough, one of them let us into the building. The key was marked with the number “607”, so together we hiked up the stairs–the elevator was out–and arrived at an apartment. I opened the door and stepped inside, and immediately I felt…like I was home. The air smelled of my musk and my smoke–and it smelled like…Fido, too. There were dog toys all over the floor, mixed in with the grungy work clothes I tended to leave lying around. Still, it was home, but it wasn’t familiar. I didn’t know this place, even if this place seemed to know me. Fido stepped inside as well, a but cautious, but I could sense how excited he was about being here finally. I shut the door behind us, and he walked around, sniffing the air.

“Well? Here we are mutt–are you going to finish the story or not?”

He turned to me, face beaming, and nodded.

“So…I loved him. I loved Joel like I’d never loved anyone before in my life, and once I realized it…I realized he knew how I felt. He’d known longer than I had, and he hadn’t…done anything. But I needed to be with him. It didn’t feel like a choice, it was a desperate compulsion, and so one night, outside the club, I managed to chase him down, and I begged him. I begged him to…to let me be his pup.”