My Summer Job (Caption Sketch)

Trevor had just graduated from high school, and had the summer stretching out ahead of him–his last summer stuck here in this small, rural town, before he went off to college in the fall, which, he hoped would let him get out of this place forever. However, college was…expensive, and while he had a good amount of assistance, he needed cash too. However, the town was…not in the greatest of financial shape, and so it was difficult finding a job. In the end, he just advertised around town as willing to do whatever work people might have for him on his property, and it ended up working out well–at least, until he drove out to Arthur Johnson’s rundown old lot a ways outside of town.

Arthur was well known as a bit of a loner, and he wasn’t seen around town very often. Trevor was nervous, but the old man greeted him warmly enough, shirtless and smoking a cigar in the already hot morning, and set Trevor to work clearing blackberry bushes from the side of his house. After a few hours, Trevor was exhausted, and when Arthur offered him a break and some lunch, he was more than happy to take him up on the offer. After they’d eaten, Arthur also offered him a smoke–Trevor had never smoked a cigar before, but smelling Arthur’s all day long had…piqued his interest. Arthur showed him how to punch and light it, and Trevor took the opportunity, once Arthur had left the room, to take a picture of himself with it, for something to tell his friends later.

But a couple of minutes later, he started to feel…a bit strange. Still, he passed it off as nothing important, and got back to work, still smoking, but the stick was making him feel a bit sick, and his head a bit…thick, somehow. He saw Arthur watching him from the porch, smoking as well, and Trevor found himself…aroused, somehow. Still, he pressed on, the nausea passed, and he felt…invigorated. After another couple of hours, Arthur offered him a beer on the porch, and one thing led to another…and Trevor found himself on his knees in front of the fat redneck, sucking his cock, groping his own member, but it felt…strange. A bit shorter than it had been, and hadn’t he had a gut, and…and why was it so hard for him to think, all of a sudden? Arthur fed him a load, and Trevor asked to use his bathroom–and in the mirror, he just stared at himself–at the body he had suddenly. He looked to be in his forties, with a thick goatee, heavily muscled, skin tanned from hours and days working in the sun, with a short, thick cock drooling precum…but was that so wrong? He fiddled with his cock until he came, and as he did, the nausea came back–as did his real body.

He fled, Arthur laughing as he ran off, got in his car and drove off, vowing never to go back there again…but that was before the headaches set in the next day, and the nausea, and the fact that he couldn’t seem to cum, no matter how horny he got. He…could still taste the cigar smoke on his tongue, and a few days later, drived by desperation, he went back to Arthur’s place, took another cigar from him, and spent another day as Arthur’s burly handyman, fixing up his house between servicing Arthur’s cock.

He told himself that he only had to get through the summer…but as time wore on, and he spent more and more time smoking Arthur’s cigars, he found himself…losing his younger identity more and more. His car changed into a beat up pickup full of tools. His body would change back less and less. He couldn’t think as well, and the accent he had grew slower and thicker. No one else seemed to notice a thing–and when the end of August rolled around, he said a tearful goodbye to his mom and dad, but didn’t drive to school–he drove to Arthur’s, knowing that this was the last time he’d ever be his real self again.

Trev, after a day of work, with his old truck.

Trev appeared in town like he’d always been there. He was none too bright, but he could fix pretty much anything that needed fixing, and he was never hurting for work around town as a capable handyman. He lived with Arthur, and everyone suspected they might be a couple of faggots, but no one knew for sure–no one, except for any man who got a good whiff of Trev’s cigar smoke while he was working. Any man who did would find themselves unable to resist using Trev’s holes, filling the stupid, muscular redneck with their cum while Trev begged them for it, always paying him for the pleasure, but forgetting about having done it soon after–but Trev never forgot. Deep inside, Trev knew this was a lie, but he was far too addicted to go back to who he should be, and in time, he learned to accept it, and even, at times, believe it. Still, when he found out he would be spending a week fixing his parent’s roof–he rebelled, as best he could, but Arthur had plenty of ways to put Trev in his place.

And so, Trev found himself passing his father the cigar Arthur had given him. He watched as his father turned into a musky, hairy, big gutted and big dicked redneck biker, who beat Trev into submission before fucking him raw. He tried to deny liking it. He tried, but he couldn’t. And when his dad begged him for another cigar the next day, even knowing what would happen to him, and another the day after that–he knew that Arthur had plans for their little town far beyond just Trev. They both ended up back at Arthur’s that night, Arthur and his brute of a father fucking him senseless…but what could he do? He was just a stupid, weak, hick faggot, like they said he was, and that was all he’d ever be, forever. At least, once Arthur opened his cigar shop, he wouldn’t be the only one–hopefully.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 4 (Part 5)

But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it! He was too weak like this, he was too scared, and too gentle, and too…too much in love to take what he wanted. He wanted Bruce to be his pig, to be happy as his pig, but he could see now that Bruce was too terrified to pursue it. He needed to be someone else. Someone forceful. Someone who cared less, and wanted more. Someone with bigger balls than he had. So Jay had dug into the app, and started filtering out everything about himself that was weak, layering everything else on, making someone who could do it, someone who could take what they wanted, someone who could do what Jay was too kind to do. Someone who could show Bruce what he needed, someone who could give them both what they wanted–what Jay knew they wanted.

And that is who was staring down at Bruce now. He recognized him as Jay, but knew it wasn’t the same Jay who had left the barn before. He was…huge, at least seven and a half feet tall, thick with muscle and fat, covered in bristle from face to trotter. He had, apparently, taken Bruce’s words to heart–Jay was as much a boar as Bruce was a pig, thick tusks pushing out from his short snout, bristle running from his coarse, wiry beard over his head and down his back, a treasure trail running down the front of his thick gut, broad shoulders, thick hips, massive thighs, huge trotters a foot from Bruce’s face, and all he could do was smell him. Perhaps he wasn’t even as imposing as Bruce thought, staring up at him, but so much of what he was seeing depending on what he was smelling–what he smelled was more important. This was an alpha, this was his owner, his master, his ruler, his top, his partner.

“:Fuck, you’re pathetic,” Jay grunted out, and followed with a snort, “We both were pathetic, really. Well, no more of that shit, I don’t think, do you?”

Bruce couldn’t do much other than snort, and just blankly stared at the thick bulge in the front of Jay’s overalls, while the boar pulled out his phone, and in the app, started tweaking a few of Bruce’s filters, and after a moment, he took a picture of the hungry, sex-desperate pig below him, and watched him start to shrink–slightly. The massive bulk which had enveloped him a moment ago, pinning him to the muddy floor of the barn, receded enough that he could stand up and move again, but he didn’t shrink to the same size he’d woken up at. A few other changes swept over him, a softening of some of his features, but twisting in other ways, especially in his face, which looked less like a pig than before, and more human, though he still had his floppy, ring pierced ears and a prominent pig nose pierced with a doorknocker ring. Bruce felt other changes more profoundly on the inside–a dull pain in his guts and groin especially, and he realized, after a moment, through the fog of the pheromones pouring off the boar in front of him, that he’s lost his nuts. The hefty sack he’d had a moment before simply disappeared, his cock shrinking to a much smaller nub, and he found that all of that sexual energy directed at his own pleasure refocused on the stinking boar in front of him, and without even thinking about it, he forced himself up, gut still dragging along the floor of the barn, licking and chewing at the front of the boar’s overalls, hungry for his cock, hungry to serve, hungry for…for so much. He felt like a pit had grown inside him, a hole, and he needed to fill it more than anything else. Food, sex, pleasure, sevice, all of it would fall into it, but Bruce could already tell it would never be full. Had it always been there, in his guts? He didn’t know for sure, but he could already feel it swallowing his fear, his weakness–there wasn’t room to be afraid inside him anymore. The emptiness would either eat him, or his fear, and as he felt it disappear, everything felt so much easier.

It was easy to be a pig. It was easy to suck his master’s cock, easy to snort in his musk, easy to love him. He loved him! Bruce loved him so much, loved him in ways he could have never allowed himself to love anyone before. He’d taken away the fear, he’d taken away the weakness. Jay had freed him, had made everything easy, so easy, so smooth, so empty. He wanted to make him happy too, wanted to be a good pig, wanted to give him everything he could, be everything that Jay wanted him to be, wanted to tell him all of this, but even with his human face, his voice hadn’t returned. It didn’t matter–if Jay didn’t want him to have a voice, than he didn’t need one. He could show him in other ways, he could show him what Jay’s love meant to him.

“Yeah, that’s the kind of attention I wanted this morning from you, you stupid hog,” Jay said, while Bruce sucked his cock, “I have a feeling these changes are going to open up new horizons for you, pretty soon–and if you don’t like them? Well you know what? I can just fucking make you like them. I can make you forget anything was ever different. I know what you need, you fucking hog, I always knew what you needed most, but you were too chickenshit to figure it out for yourself. Well, now you don’t have to think about anything, other than filling up that need sitting in your fucking soul–that, and keeping my boarcock good and happy.”

Arctos: Filters – Episode 4 (Part 4)

“You made me like this, don’t forget,” Jay said, as Bruce squealed in panic, desperately trying to move himself with his too short, too weak legs, “You made me! I know I’m right, because I’m just a reflection of you–you wouldn’t have made me want this, if you didn’t want it too, but you’re just too stubborn to understand your own head! I know what’s best! I know what you really want! And I’m gonna fucking show you…I’ll…fuck!” Jay said, and stormed out of the barn, slamming the door behind him, leaving Bruce there, squealing still, trapped within his massive, nearly nine hundred pound body, realizing that he had just made things so, so much worse without even trying.

All of this. He’d made all of this. This was all him, every decision, every false step, every idiotic word, every cowardly choice. All of it had led him here, trapped in a relationship with the same man he’d been with before, when he’d been human. Neither of them had changed, just the dressing, just the obsessions. He had to get out of here, he had to get help–but how? He couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak–as far as most people were concerned, he probably just looked like a pig–an ugly, strangely shaped pig in some ways, but just a pig at the end of the day. Maybe he’d always been this pig. He gave up for a moment, and just laid there, listening to the farm, listening for Jay, really, wondering what, exactly, he was going to do next.

He…had never seen Jay this angry, he didn’t think. He had been upset when Bruce had left that day, and said he wanted to break up with him. Upset, but not…mad. He’d seemed more upset at himself, than he’d felt angry at Bruce, like he had failed somehow, or angry that he was letting something slip away. Mostly, he’d…done everything he could to avoid alienating Bruce further, he’d left the door wide open to keep going, and that was all Bruce had needed to come back–because all of his protests aside, all the good reasons he had for leaving, he’d always wanted to come back–he just…had never thought it would end with him here.

Time passed again, just as slow as the morning, but now, instead of mildly eager anticipation, all he felt was a dull, muted terror, and the certainty in his gut that all of this, in the end, really was his fault, but even then, he couldn’t quite put everything together, how all of his little weaknesses had compounded together into this nightmare, like the fat pinning him to the earth that he occasionally tested himself against. Denial struggled along anyway. This couldn’t be his fault. Sure, he had made every choice, and every action, that had landed him here. Sure, he was weak, and terrified, and both Jay and Jean had just wanted what was best for him, both of them just wanted him to be happy in the exact way Jay and Jean thought he should be happy, a happiness that terrified Bruce more than just about anything else, because he wasn’t happy. Because happiness would require change, and work, and acknowledging that something inside himself didn’t want to be happy, didn’t think he deserved someone else, didn’t think he should even exist. But this wasn’t his fault, this couldn’t be his fault. It was the app, it was Jean, it was Jay, it was anything else, everything else conspiring against him. But still, he was left pinned there by his own mass, grunting and squealing, wondering if he should cry, wondering if he should scream, he should think of something to tell Jay when he got back, he should be ready to beg, anything other than this mute acceptance, which was all he could seem to muster.

He didn’t have to wait as long this time, at least, before Jay did return, the sound of the barn door creaking open behind him, and he tried to twist his fat neck and see him, Bruce unsure of what either of them was going to do now. He couldn’t see him, though–but he could smell something…something unlike anything he’d smelled before in his life. It smelled like sex, it smelled like beautiful, fragrant desire and rutting and cum and sweat, and unable to stop himself, he was drooling, his cock hardening deep within his flab, and he started rocking back and forth, trying to pleasure himself, even as the smell grew stronger. He could barely focus on anything at all, beyond the smell, when Jay finally rounded Bruce’s massive frame and stood in front of him, only wearing his overall now, but he was no longer the same man who had stormed off from the barn an hour earlier.

Jay had been furious. Furious not so much at Bruce, but at himself. Furious at how weak he was, at how desperate he was, at how this stupid pig could get him so riled up, that even when Jay had all the power in the world, he still felt helpless before Bruce’s terror at himself. He’d gone back to the farmhouse and stared at himself, trying to sort out what he was feeling, wondering about who he had been before this, wondering what he had done to Bruce to make him turn him into this thing. Bruce…had to want this, didn’t he? Bruce had made him! He was just a reflection of Bruce’s desires in the end, right? But if he was just a reflection, then who was he really?

He had to be someone, he had to be someone himself, someone beyond Bruce! He thought about the lonely nights here, after Bruce had abandoned him, how empty he’d felt, how he’d been willing to do anything not to feel that anymore. How everything without Bruce had felt…pointless. He couldn’t go back to that. He couldn’t be without him again, he couldn’t go back to feeling that empty despair, he would kill himself, or he would let Bruce do it for him, undo him, try to bring back whoever had been here before him. But he didn’t want to die. Didn’t he deserve happiness? Didn’t he deserve a chance to get what he wanted out of life?

Arctos: Filters – Episode 4 (Part 3)

“Well, even if ya don’t want to stay like this tomorrow, I gotta say, that was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my whole damn life, pig,” he said, and stood back up, “How about you? It seemed like you were having a good time.”

Bruce didn’t quite know what to say about it. He had…enjoyed it, he supposed, but then again, he hadn’t really had a choice in the matter. His body had just done what it wanted to do, and he’d just been along for the ride. “I–*grunt*–I did, but…but hell,” he said, paused to shake his face, flinging bits of slop everywhere, “I…it was intense…” was all he could really think to say. He looked back and up at Jay, and saw it wasn’t exactly the effusive praise that Jay was looking for from him, and while he felt bad…what was he supposed to do? Lie? “Look, I…it was hot, yeah, and I…fuck, that was a damn good orgasm, but none of that…was me, you know? I didn’t have any control of myself! I was just so damn hungry, and so horny, and…and is that what you really want from me? Is that it? Is this all I’m really good for, to you?” The question hung in the air, and too late, Bruce realized that he had spoken something that should have never been spoken aloud. It had broken something between them, a contract, one Bruce had only been aware of as subtext–and the look of confusion, and then reproachment on Jay’s face…did not seem to bode well for him, particularly.

“I’m just trying to show you how good things could be if you just let go for a little while!” Jay said, sidestepping the question, “Maybe it’s good that you felt like things were out of your control. Maybe you don’t need to always be wondering if something is right–maybe you can just relax for a while, and do what feels good! What’s so wrong with that?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it! I liked it, I just…you know what? You weren’t even having sex with me, just now. You were just fucking a pig–a pig you made…me inhabit, a pig though, just an animal. You always told me…you always told me you liked me more because I wasn’t just a pig, but is that…what am I to you, really?” he asked, turning around to face Jay, feeling more hurt the more he thought about it, the more he felt…used, the more he felt like something in this had violated him, somehow. “I think you should change me back now, and…and I’d like…I don’t know, just…not like this.”

“Look, why don’t we just calm down for a little bit. You just told me you liked it!”

“Jay, this…this is a fucked up, and I know you know it. Just change me back, alright, and we can talk about it, but this is fucked!” he shouted, “I know you get off on me acting like an animal, but I didn’t think you literally just wanted to have sex with a fucking pig, you know? Fuck, I…I fucked you up so fucking much, I’m so fucking sorry, I…I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, I–”

“I didn’t ask to be like this!” Jay shouted over him then, “I don’t know who the fuck I was before this, and you can’t just fucking lord that shit over me, like you fucking know me! At least I fucking know who I am, you know? At least I fucking know what I want! You’re the one who comes crawling back to me. You’re the one who wants this, but is too fucking cowardly to do anything about it!”

“Fuck you! You’re a bigger fucking pig than I ever could be, you know that? Some fucking loser farmer out here, fantasizing about fucking his pigs all day long, so fucking excited that he could make it happen finally. You’re the fucking coward–just go fuck that big hog of yours, and leave me the fuck out of this!” Bruce shouted back. He wanted to get out more, but Jay pulled out the phone from his pocket, moved something around on the app, and he heard the click of the shutter. A moment later, his words dissolved away into nothing more than oinks and squeals–he could still think all the words he wanted to say, but nothing would come out other than pig noises. He quit lunged for Jay’s hand that had the phone, hoping he could grab it with his mouth, but he was much too unwieldy–and after another shutter snap, Bruce could feel his body growing again, piling on even more fat, his gut growing down until it brushed against the ground, and then laid on it, his legs straining, trying to move his sudden mass, but having no luck at all. He was…immobile, and all he could do was squeal and grunt at Jay in anger and frustration, while the farmer looked on at him, scowling and furious–mostly because he knew that Bruce was right, mostly.

Jay…did like pigs. He liked pigs more than people, and always had, but not…for sex. Not until he’d met Bruce, had that bridge been crossed in his mind, and ever since they’d met…he’d been so frustrated. Frustrated by the fact that Bruce was so close to giving into his inner pig at any moment, so close to giving Jay what he needed, and yet…that irritating, fallible, doubting human would somehow always get in the damn way, every time! He just wanted him to let go, he just wanted to show him how happy Bruce could make him, if he just…if he just stopped being so damn human all the damn time. It wasn’t right, what he’d done, he knew that–but it was what he wanted…and to hell with what Bruce wanted, he told himself. Bruce didn’t know what mattered. Bruce wasn’t doing shit with him life. He…owed this to Jay, for what he’d done to him.

The Frat’s Dirty Laundry (Caption Sketch)

I’m posting captions and taking requests for captions over on my discord server for patrons supporting me with at least $5 a month! Here’s a couple from a five part series I wrote for them over there–if you’d like to get access to the rest, and to all the other captions I post there, you can sign up on my Patreon here and get access!

Alpha Beta Sigma was a dirty frat on campus–drugs, rape, drinking and partying–but because all of the young men who belonged to the frat were legacy students, or similarly important to the schools reputation and bottom line, no real punishment ever really came down upon it. Well, one group of students is fed up with it, and has decided to cast a spell over the young men of ABS–from now on, all of their laundry will be as dirty as they are, and they won’t have a choice but to air it out for all to see.

The first young man to fall victim to the curse was Lyle Everston. He was a legacy, the son of a senator from a southern state, and Lyle’s conservative politics were apparent, but well hidden. Still, there had been a rash of hate crimes across campus, and while no one could pin them on Lyle…well, the washer and dryer in the basement of the house knew the truth.

Most of Lyle’s clothes were dry clean only, of course, but he did have some things that he could wash onsite. He went down into the basement, went to pull his clothes out of the dryer…but they weren’t his clothes, and they most certainly were not clean. Instead of his underwear and lounge clothes, he found a pair of filthy beige work pants, some rubber boots caked with mud,a tattered john deere hat and a sleeveless shirt with the rebel flag across the front. They smelled rank, and yet somehow familiar. In a daze, he found himself stepping out of his clothes in the basement, and pulling on the ones from the dryer instead, his physique packing on some muscle, stubble spreading across his face. Part of him fought–but it no longer had control of his body–Lyle was trapped inside himself, watching and feeling his body change, feeling his body start to tug on his cock, a grungy, cheesy foreskin growing up over the head, and he drooled some dark spit onto it to lube it–dark from the tobacco leaf that had appeared in his mouth.

“Hey boy,” a voice growled behind him, “If’n yer gonna tug on that thing, might as well do it o’er here, wit’ yer Pa.”

Lyle spun around, but as he did, the room blurred–he found himself not in the basement, but in a filthy, rundown trailer, and there, on a small couch, lounged…his daddy, his pa. Not the pa he’d had, no, this one was a lazy, fat, nasty piece of redneck trash…just like Lyle was now. Drooling a bit more spit on his cock, he went and sat down next to his Pa, the older man’s thick musk making the boy moan, and it wasn’t long before they were swapping tobacco spit, hands on each others’ cocks, and inside his mind, all Lyle could do was scream.

Slowly, the house began to feel a bit…empty. None of the remaining young men inside could quite understand why it felt empty, why the rooms that had been doubles were now singles, why the common rooms were a little less filled, but laundry–well, laundry always had to get done.

The next young man to try his luck with the washer and dryer was Henry, one of the school’s star football players. He was an egotistical narcissist, assumed he was the paragon of masculinity, meant to be worshiped by everyone–well, by women of course. Men, especially fat men, were there to be ridiculed and humiliated–and so that’s what he spent his time doing, bullying other fellows on campus. However, when he went to pull some of his practice gear out of the dryer…well, it was a jersey that he pulled out, it just wasn’t his.

It also wasn’t the least bit clean–instead, the front of it had all manner of stains on it–food and drink stains as far as he could tell, and the fabric was stretched out, faded, and, well, reeked. Reeked like it had never been washed in ages…but the smell was familiar. It was…his. His smell, of course. Because it was his jersey. He could remember it better now, but he knew he’d have a better memory if he put it on, so he pulled off the undershirt he had on, and pulled on the jersey, and the memories can flooding back to him–as did the horror of what he’d just done to himself, but it was too late.

The jersey was his, of course. But he was no longer a star running back. No, he’d been a linebacker in high school and college, before he’d dropped out, and not a particularly good one, but man, he’d always loved wearing his jersey. It…made him feel young again. He tugged it down, knowing it had fit better than this at one point, but he wasn’t in college anymore. He’d just turned fifty five, in fact, lived in a shabby single wide all by himself, and spent his days working menial labor, and his afternoons and evenings glued to the TV–usually watching sports.

Football was his favorite. He loved watching his crushes on TV, cheering them on, fucking himself when they scored, imagining they were fucking him in celebration. When football season was over, he usually found solace in wrestling instead–but that was for later. The game was almost on, after all. He pulled on his tight, cum crusted sweats, chugged down most of his beer, and headed to the living room to get settled with the rest of the twelve pack and his favorite dildo (one he’d had custom cast to match the hard cock of his greatest football crush), hoping this game would be a damn good one.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 3 (Part 2)

Before he could object again, Jay had another cake pressed to his snout, and after that, he didn’t object again. He went to pick up his fork and knife again, but Jay knocked them out of his hands. Next, he went to grab a pancake with his hand, but Jay gave it a hard smack, and Bruce gave a general snort of annoyance.

“Ya know the rules–if pigs are at the table, gotta eat like a pig. Ya didn’t forget that one right?” he leaned in close, picking up one floppy ear with a couple of fingers, and whispered into his ear, “If I remember right, ya came up with that rule yerself, didn’t ya pig?”

He had, early on. Fuck, if it didn’t make him hard as hell thinking about it. He stood up at the table, bent over, and shoved his face into the remaining pile of pancakes, taking massive bites out of them with his snout, while Jay urged him on, tugging away the clothes Bruce had just put on his body upstairs earlier.

“That was another rule, wasn’t it pig? No clothes for pigs in the house. That one was yours too, wasn’t it?”

In fact, Jay had mentioned it in passing, and made Bruce add it to the growing list himself. He’d…done that a lot, really, made these suggestions, wormed them into Bruce’s head until he’d gotten himself properly worked up, and he’d start following them on his own. Jay did a lot of shit like that. Bruce knew he should stop this, that he was blurring the lines of their relationship again…but his cock was so hard, and feeling Jay rub his heavy, full belly was…so damn satisfying. He was full, but Jay had always wanted him bigger, talked about him breaking 800 pounds, one fat fucking pig, a prize winning pig, even. Keeping him on all fours, forgetting how to speak, forgetting he was anything other than a pig, a real pig–fuck, what in the fuck had he done to him?

****

He hadn’t even asked him. He’d had no idea–whoever Jay had been before all of this. Bruce tried to remember as best he could, but the memory had already faded to nothing more than scraps. He could remember a clean apartment, a smaller, scrawnier guy, but no details about him beyond that. He was gone now–Bruce had erased him from existence in a fit of horniness, and in his place, he’d created Jay–a twisted, perverted, redneck…and fuck, if he wasn’t turned on, but feeling Jay’s hands on him, he could feel other hands too, hands in the past in other places, and he shuddered in dread at what he had done, Jay pulling his hands away when he did.

“What’s up pig–I can tell you’re enjoying this. Come on–get those pants off for me. No pants in the house for pigs.”

Bruce shook his head got up from the table, and pulled away from him. “No–no, this was such a fucking mistake, I’m sorry, I’ll…I can fix you–this–I think, but I can’t remember him around you.”

Bruce grabbed his shirt from Jay’s hand, and the redneck just stared at him, confused as to what that might mean by any of that. “What are ya talkin’ about?”

He shouldn’t have said anything, why had he said that? Bruce turned around and headed for the front door, already pulling his keys out so he could get out of here, get back in the city, get his head clear and figure out how to start putting all of this right, but he hadn’t made it off the porch before Jay caught up with him, grabbed him by the wrist, and pulled him back.

“What the hell did you mean by that, pig? What the fuck is there about me to fucking fix? And who else are you fucking talking about?”

Jay was angry, and he’d interpreted that about the only way he could, knowing what he knew, but Bruce couldn’t tell him this, couldn’t tell him what he’d done to him, that he’d sprung from some horny fever dream, caught between his old self, this pig, and a boyfriend he’d never wanted to be with, all of it rolled up together into a whole new mess even worse than before. “I can’t talk about it, alright? It won’t make sense. Just let me go.”

“You know what your problem is pig?” Jay said, leaning in close, “You’re don’t fucking know what you want. You’re broken, and you know it, and you look for people who want to fix you, who want to make something of you, something good, something hot–but you know what? I think you like being broken. I think that’s why you left, but I think you came back last night, and knocked on my door, because you know full fuckin’ well that it’s gonna take a sick, perverted fucked like me to fix what’s wrong with you, and make you into something good–those boys in the city, they don’t know what to do with you, do they?”

Bruce was trying to pull away, but Jay’s grip was only getting tighter, tight enough to hurt. “Fucking let go of me Jay, you’re hurting me.”

“Fucking answer me!”

“No, alright? You’re right! They’re all shit, is that what you want me to say? They all want to treat me like I’m normal, clean me up, make me presentable, show everyone that I’m just like every other fucker in society, but yeah, I’m fucking not. I’m a fat, horny, dirty-minded pig, and you’re the first guy who’s gotten that, really fuckin’ gotten that, but this isn’t you! This isn’t right, you…fuck, I don’t even know how to explain it, but I have to go, I have to figure this shit out, how to fix this.”

Police Dogs – Episode 2 (Finale)

Sorry for the missed posts over the last couple of days–work has been crazy busy with the holiday coming up. Here’s the last three chunks of Police Dogs to make up for it!

Demon dove for the paws, licking at them with his tongue, and deep inside him, something…was screaming and howling with rage, and with fear. Demon…knew who it was, it was the man he’d been, but the anger was already turning to terror, as Chance realized he was being trapped within his own mind, and that the small bits of him that still remained outside of Master Geoff’s control were shrinking smaller and smaller, as he shrunk, and as more and more of his body twisted and warped into the pup Geoff’s collar was turning him into. His tongue…it was so long, and the smells and tastes of Master’s paw were so intense, unlike anything he had ever experienced before in his life. HIs tail was wagging faster now, pounding along with his heart in excitement, and eagerness. He could hear his nails scratching on the floor under him, now more like claws than nails really, his fingers shortening and thickening, losing some of their dexterity as he lost his humanity. But worse, was how excited he was, how excited he couldn’t help being, and he flung himself into worshiping Master’s paws, at least, until Master gave him a kick in the snout, and sent him onto his back, four paws in the air in surprise. Before he could roll over, Master shoved his paw down onto Demon’s head, covering all of his face with the rough pad on the bottom, the scent even more intense, and the sensation of powerlessness…he was nothing. He was nothing, next to his master, he was worthless. He was just a stupid, naughty pup, tiny and insignificant, unable to do anything, unable to disobey, unable to think a single thought that Master hadn’t put into Demon’s tiny head himself. Chance felt his mental confines shrink further, and he screamed again, but to Demon, they seemed…so much further away now. That was good–it had been hard to focus on what was important–cleaning Master’s dirty paws.

Geoff bent down, watching the little pup squirm under his weight, and while he hadn’t thought about shrinking him further than this, a couple of feet tall…he couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like. This was the smallest he’d ever made a pup, really, but there was no reason the collar couldn’t shrink someone smaller…and in fact, there was something he had always wanted to try, and this might be the best opportunity to test it out. He grabbed hold of the collar, and kept pulling, steadily shrinking Demon further still, taking inches off his now measly height, until he was just around a foot and a half tall, not too much larger than the badger’s paw, in all honesty. He felt so fragile, under him, and Geoff supposed he could crush the life out of him, if he so wanted, but he had other pleasures in mind for this one. He pulled his paw away, pleased with the empty look in the pup’s eyes. He was in the final stages of his changes now–his old self was locked away, deep in his mind, where it would starve, slowly. The process took a while, but now, there was no real way of saving him–as far as Geoff was concerned, Chance was gone–all that remained, was Demon, his warped, perverted little pet.

Geoff looked around, and saw that Dingo had wandered off in the midst of this–a peek around the corner, and he was the massive lug right where he expected him to be, looming over the table, and the unfinished box of doughnuts, stuffing them in his maw as quickly as he could. The bigger they got, after all, the hungrier they became, and Dingo was one of the largest he had made–so tall, Dingo had probably knocked his head on the doorframe getting out of the hall. “Dingo!” he said, “Pick up Demon here, and let’s go upstairs–I think I have the perfect punishment in mind for the naughty pup.”

Dingo looked up, knowing he had been caught red handed, or powder sugar handed, perhaps, but his master didn’t seem mad at him for it. Still, he rushed to obey him, while the badger started pulling off his uniform and heading for the stairs, Dingo grabbed Demon by the tail and picked him up. He was…so light, and the pup squirmed in the air, obviously unhappy at being manhandled like this, and Dingo just laughed, and swung him about gently in the air.

“Dingo! Quit playing with your toy, and get up here!”

“Sorry sir!” Dingo said, and hurried for the stairs, clipping his forehead on a doorway as he went, dropping Demon as he did. The pup tried to scurry away, but Dingo grabbed him by the tail again before he could get away, and carrying him upstairs after the badger, and into the bedroom, where Geoff was standing next to the bed. “Get out of that uniform, Dingo–I think it’s time you got a reward.”

Dingo grinned, and set Demon down on the floor. Before he could get his bearings, he found himself pinned under the badger’s paw once again, and all thoughts of escape slipped away from him again, and he focused on sniffing and licking his master’s paws while the larger Dingo struggled to extract himself from the too tight uniform he was now wearing. He managed, eventually, but not without losing a few buttons, and then Geoff directed him to lay down on the bed. He was so large, that even with his head leaning up against the headboard, his paws hung off the end, and his cock, while small compared to his frame, was still a sizable seven inches.

“Alright, Demon–are you ready? You’re going to get one last fuck on your husband’s cock–and we’re going to shrink you until you’re too small to even stay on it. Hear that? You’re going to be so small, you won’t even be useful for sex–all you’ll be able to do is clean our paws, lick out our cracks, and watch me fuck your husband’s ass into submission every night. That’s what happens to naughty pups who don’t do what they’re told–I turn them into my toys.”

Demon was squirming under Geoff’s paw, but whether he was even paying attention to him, the badger didn’t know. That was the problem with these collars, especially when you make someone small–the room left for their brains gets a bit…cramped. He bent down and picked him up, carrying him under the arms and onto the bed, before handing him to Dingo. “Here you go boy–why don’t you give Demon a good last fuck? I want it to be a fuck he’ll remember, so don’t hold back, got it?”

Dingo nodded, took Demon from Geoff’s paws, and held him there, looking at him squirm, trying to free himself, lost somewhere between fear, obedience, and a disappearing past and identity he could no longer really recall. It was…easier, seeing him like this, Dingo thought. It had been harder before, when he was human, when Angus had been so loud, trying to make him stop, trying to get control back, but now that he was looking at this little pup–a pint sized german shepherd, panting, his own cock hard as he squirmed in the air, not quite sure what was about to happen to him, he just felt…sorry for him, a bit, and he didn’t want to hurt him. “Aren’t I…too big?”

“Don’t worry about that, Dingo–he’ll be flexible. Besides, you shouldn’t care about something like that–you like being a brute, don’t you? You kind of like the idea of hurting that pup a bit. After all, hasn’t he been so naughty today?”

Dingo nodded, and he realized that some of that caring, that worry, wasn’t really his–it had leeched in while he wasn’t paying attention, but Master was right. He was a mean, rough, feral mutt, to everyone other than his master, and thinking about fucking this little pup on his big cock…he started leaking just thinking about it, leaking enough that he could drop the pup on the head of his cock, and it was slick enough to work its way inside, the pup barking and howling in surprise and a bit of pain as the massive cock forced its way inside him.

It was as large as his own arm, easily, and the pup was torn between terror, and a raging horniness that was threatening to wipe away everything else. His head just felt so small and tight all of a sudden, and it couldn’t hold everything in it that had been in it before. Whatever was most present, and most immediate, was being saved–everything else, if he didn’t focus on it, was slipping away, never to be seen again. Dingo shoved him down a little further, forcing the pup’s tailhole to open further, and Geoff bent over and whispered in Demon’s ear, telling how good it felt to be fucked, how much he loved having a massive cock in his hole–he was so naughty, he wanted cock in him all the time, and that’s why he was being punished. He’d been a bad dog, and so, he was going to have to be so small, he’d never be able to get fucked again.

Dingo kept thrusting up, working most of his cock into the pup’s tight hole, and then Geoff took hold of the end of Demon’s collar, and pulled it tighter. His body constricted again, tightening around Dingo’s cock, stretching his hole even more, and he howled, Dingo having to keep a tight hold, to keep his cock from slipping from the pup’s hole. For his part, a desperate Demon was trying hard to keep the cock in his guts–he loved getting fucked, and knowing that this was going to be his last fuck ever…he was going to have to make it last as long as possible, no matter how small he got.

Geoff watched the little german shepherd constrict around the dingo’s cock, and his own cock got even harder. He got up and straddled Dingo’s massive frame, so his own cock was in front of Demon, took hold of his tiny frame, and started fucking him up and down on Dingo’s cock, watching the little pup go slack, just enjoying the sensation of the massive cock rearranging his guts, his face and gut grinding against his master’s cock in the process, absolutely helpless, and yet, more content than he’d ever felt in his life, because there was nothing he could do. He was helpless–they could do whatever they wanted to him, and there was nothing he could do to stop them, they had absolute power, and that meant he had to be their…their slave, or even lower than that, their pet, their toy. He was nothing, and with another tug on the collar, he shrank again, less than a foot tall, his body no longer able to take all of Dingo’s cock–but the massive dog had reached his limit anyway. His cock exploded inside of Demon’s body, and like a bottle rocket, and because Geoff was only holding onto him by the collar–as he flew, it pulled tighter and tighter around his neck, tighter than Geoff had ever intended, shrinking him less than a foot, less than six inches, until he was just three or four, dangling by the end of the collar, choking until Geoff laid the tiny pup on the bed, where he could catch his breath in the pool of cum still leaking out of his hole.

Dingo just kept panting on the bed, oblivious to what had happened, while Geoff loomed over him, surprised that the little pup was still alive. He picked Demon up by the tail and looked at him, Demon staring at the massive badger’s face looming right in front of him. “Hmm…well, that’s a bit smaller than I was expecting.”

Still, there was nothing to be done–but at least he could secure the collar and lock it in place. If it shrank anymore, Demon might just cease to exist. It took some work, manipulating the little tail of the shrunk collar soit slid into the loop, but he managed it, and sealed the length for good–for better or worse, Demon was a pup the size of a mouse…now what in the hell was he going to do with him? Geoff sighed–he’d figure something out, he supposed. He dropped Demon back on the bed, and told Dingo to get up from the bed–that it was time to leave. The two of them got dressed, Dingo struggling with his ill-fitting uniform again, but with Geoff’s help, he got situated enough that he was presentable, and then Geoff dropped the still stunned Demon in the pocket of his shirt, and they left the house, never to return.

No one ever really figured out what happened to the nice couple, Angus and Chance, who had lived there. Some people said there was a kidnapping, others said they had moved, some suggested a long vacation, but no one remembered them for long. The bank eventually foreclosed on the house, and resold it to someone else–but by then, their memory had long since disappeared from reality, for everyone besides Geoff. Geoff remembered everything, and he was having a grand time with his Dingo.

In the past months, nearly a year, Dingo had kept packing on weight at a steady clip. On his tall frame though, even four hundred pounds seemed normal–mostly. Geoff kept feeding him though–he wanted his brutish mutt to be his largest pup yet, telling him, while he fucked his fat ass, that he was going to keep stuffing him until he was too fat to even get out of bed. Dingo liked that, and he gave another shudder, shooting another load of cum into the milker attached to his cock, draining his cum into a small tank by the side of the bed. After a few more minutes, Geoff came deep, and pulled out–the two of them laid on the bed for a while, Geoff resting his head on Dingo’s large gut until he got tired, swung himself out of bed, and unhooked the tank. He had another pet to keep fed after all–and after that massive fucking had twisted up the little pup’s guts, the only thing the tiny pup could eat anymore was cum–specifically Dingo’s. He loved the stuff, and the more he drank, the fatter he got as well–though he always seemed to shrink back down from a sphere after a day or two. Still, watching the little german shepherd gorge himself on his one-time husband’s cum never ceased to thrill Geoff, and watching the little pup fight for it was getting hard again–hard enough for a second go at Dingo’s hole in the meantime, before their night shift started. They were patrolling the highway, and Geoff had started hankering for another police dog to play with in the worst way.

Police Dogs – Episode 2 (Part 8)

“What do you want, pup?”

What…did he want? He knew what he had wanted, before. To…escape, to find a way to get Angus back, but he was so tired, so tired of fighting. It would be so much easier if he just gave in, gave in and was a good boy, a good pup, the…the dirty little pup Master wanted him to be. But is that what he wanted too? He didn’t know what he wanted. He didn’t know if he should even…want things himself. What did Master want? He knew what Master wanted, though, and…and he could feel himself wanting it too, more and more. “I…I wanna sniff your holes, and Dingo’s, and lick your boots and your paws, sir, I…I wanna be your…your dirty pup.”

“Really? Because a little while ago, you didn’t seem to want that at all. I don’t know if I really believe you, pup.”

That…seemed so long ago now, somehow, even though Chance knew it had been less than an hour. It was another lifetime, another person altogether, maybe. “I know I said that, but I…I was wrong, I want to be a good boy, I want to be your dirty pup master.”

“My dirty, little pup, you mean,” Geoff said, took the end of Chance’s collar and tightened it another notch, and Chance felt his stomach twist, he shrank again. He tried to pull away again, but Geoff kept his grip on the collar, and he could feel it tightening again, and almost to another notch, and he froze.

“Please, I don’t want to be smaller, please sir, I’m sorry…”

“No? You don’t want to be a little pup? So small I could pin you to the ground with my paw, feel you squirming between my toes?” Geoff tugged lightly, and another notch slipped, and Chance reduced again, now only about four feet tall, and he could feel the badger tugging the collar tightening, and he whimpered again. “Get on your knees.”

Chance hadn’t realized he was standing, and when he got down, the disparity in size was even more apparent, and he realized, also…very hot, seeing his Master looming over him like this. Geoff put one huge boot on his thigh, and that was enough to make his dog cock slip free of his sheath again, and start to leak.

“Looks like someone is excited by the idea of being this small. Such a naughty little doggy. You know, a naughty pup like you needs a naughty name, don’t you think? How about…Demon? A little devil like you.”

When Geoff said the name, Chance felt it searing itself into his mind, somehow, warping his own image of himself. The human in him slipped even further away, fading, and he could…see himself, a different version of himself. A small, chubby dog, tongue lolling out, only a couple feet tall, waddling after his Master, wondering when he’d get the chance to taste his paws again, or his boots, or his cock, if he was a very good boy. And Demon…Demon could be naughty yes, but he wanted to be good, so good, and he knew he could, he could be so good if he just…just did as Master wanted. The collar tightened again, slipping closed another notch, and he shrank a few more inches, watching his Master rise up over him even further as he shrank down, and…and he let out a whine, his cock springing up and leaking a bit at the sight.

“You do like it, don’t you boy? I want to hear you say it.”

Demon shook his head, trying to deny it, but the badger tightened it again, the sudden vertigo in his gut telling him he was shrinking even further.

“I know you like it, pup,” Geoff said, “but what really matters anyway is that I like it. I like the idea of you being a sniveling little pup, too small to be good for anything really, small enough that I could crush you under me feet–but I think that you do want it, don’t you boy? Doesn’t the idea of being small enough that I can pick you up by the scruff of your fat neck, or by your fuzzy tail, carry you around, do whatever I want to you–doesn’t that just excite the hell out of you?”

Demon heard something thumping behind him, but it wasn’t until Geoff stopped talking that he realized it was the sound of his tail wagging, and thumping against the floor behind him.

“Naughty pups like you might lie to me, but your tails always tell the truth, pup. You want to be small. You deserve to be small, for being so naughty, you deserve to be punished, don’t you?”

He tugged again, slipping the collar down another notch, and this time, Demon couldn’t resist it anymore. “Yes sir, I do…I deserve to be a tiny pup sir, I love it, I…”

“Unlace my boots, Demon,” Geoff said, sneering down at him.

He did so, and pulled the boot off, and the sock. He could smell the badger’s paw from where he was, and he felt drool pouring out of his snout, his cock even harder, if that was possible.

“You want Master’s paw, boy?”

“Yes sir, please let me lick your dirty paws.”

“What’s your name pup? Tell me your name, and I’ll let you taste them.”

He whined again. He knew the right answer of course, but it was also the most dangerous answer. It wasn’t the answer it should be…but it was the answer he wanted, all the same. “Demon. I’m your dirty little pup, Demon, your naughty pup, please sir! Please can I taste them?”

“Alright, go ahead pup, you’ve been good enough.”

Police Dogs – Episode 2 (Part 7)

Chance struggled harder, but he could feel himself shrinking further with each notch, and no matter how hard he tried to free himself, the smaller he became, the heavier Dingo seemed to become–and the harder it was becoming to breathe. He kept struggling anyway, and the badger allowed him to do so, walking around and feeding Dingo his cock for a few minutes, ignoring Chance as he cursed him, pleaded with Dingo to listen to him, and kept struggling, but now, it really was hopeless. He was just…too small. Too small to do anything, and after a time, he collapsed, heaving for breath, losing feeling in his legs from the weight of Dingo pressing down on them. Seeing that he’d finally given up, Geoff walked back around, and pushed his police boot against Chance’s face. “Lick it, pup. Show me you’re sorry with that little tongue of yours.”

Chance pulled his face away, and the badger grabbed the end of the collar again, and tugged it, but didn’t pull it tighter yet. “Lick it, or you’ll be even smaller–so small, I might just let your fat husband here squish you to death. Hell, maybe I’ll even feed you to him as a snack.”

Chance looked up at Geoff, at the badger’s grin, at how…far away it was, all of a sudden, and he realized just how much of a miscalculation he had made. A miscalculation about this badger, about just how…sadistic of an animal he was dealing with. He could see there, that he would, in fact, shrink him down into a snack and feed him to the lug squishing him under his bulk–and given how far gone Angus was…Chance had little doubt that the dog would feel much remorse at all at doing so. He looked at the toe of the boot inches from his face now, and wondered, for a moment, if being eaten might be the better proposition…but that was ludicrous. Just…Just lick the boot! Just give the crazy fucker what he wanted. His head was spinning, and he felt like he was going to pass out–he just couldn’t catch his breath. Just be a good boy, and lick the boot like he should do, because…because Master told him to. So he did, surprised at how much of it his tongue could reach from where he was pinned on the floor, and the badger lifted the boot up and let him lick the bottom.

“That’s a good boy, a very good boy. Lick that boot nice and clean–you like the taste of dirty boots, don’t you little pup?”

It…did taste kind of good, didn’t it?

“I want to hear you say it, pup. I want to hear you say that you’re a naughty, dirty, boot licking pup. Say it.”

No, he wasn’t going to say it, but he didn’t stop licking–he just…pretended like he hadn’t heard what he said. Geoff chuckled, but didn’t tighten Chance’s collar again–instead, he reached over and loosened the collar on Dingo. In a few seconds, Dingo had grown a four or five inches taller still–and packed on even more weight than before, crushing Chance down a little further.

“Say it, you dumb, worthless little pup.”

“I’m…a dirty, bootlicking pup,” Chance wheezed out, now earnestly struggling to breathe. “Please, sir, I can’t–I can’t breathe…”

The badger let him struggle another moment, and then told Dingo to get up, and let Chance catch his breath. Chance sat up, happy to be getting lungfuls of air for the first time, and looked around the room–everything…was bigger. He forced himself upright, but that didn’t help much–he had to be less than five feet tall–at the most. More likely, he was around four and a half–much, much smaller than the other two, and especially Dingo, who was even larger than before.

“Sigh, what to do with such a naughty, obstinate pup,” Geoff said to himself, tapping one claw on his chin, “I’m going to have to give you something else to focus that naughty energy on, you know. Something to keep you occupied, you dirty pup. Dingo, drop those trousers of yours, and bend over–let’s see that wide ass of yours.”

Dingo nodded, and did as the badger ordered, though it was a bit tight of space for him where they were in the hall. His hips were wide enough to almost touch both sides of the hall, creating a massive furry wall of ass right in front of Chance, who gulped.

“Well go on–if you’re as dirty a pup as you say you are, you know what you want. Don’t pups like you love sniffing other dog’s holes? I never understood it much myself, but to each their own.”

Before Chance could object, the badger grabbed him by the back of the head, and shoved him in snout first, and the scent was overwhelming to his new nose. He tried to push back anyway, but the badger was too strong.

“Good boy, eat that doggy hole.”

Yeah…yeah, he was a good boy, a good, dirty pup. He gave it a lick, and then another one.

“Good boy, get in there, I want to hear Dingo moaning.”

Chance dug in deeper with his tongue, and he could hear Dingo moan, and he knew he was doing good, doing really good. He was a good boy, a good boy for his master.

“Yeah, that’s right. Get it good and clean now–that’s what you’re job is going to be, I think, a naughty little pup like you. It still might be a bit too much for you to handle–cleaning asses, licking boots, sucking on our dirty paws after a long days work. I don’t know if you’re up to it, honestly.”

Chance licked harder–he…wanted to be a good boy, he wanted to be a good ass licker, a good paw licker. Geoff grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and hauled him out of Dingo’s crack, and he whined.

Police Dogs – Episode 2 (Part 6)

Geoff eventually pushed Chance’s maw away from his cock, looked down at his happy face, eyes glazed over slightly, icing all over his face from his snacks, and stood up, telling Chance to follow him. They went into the bathroom and Geoff told Chance to stand in front of the mirror and look at himself, and what he saw…it was enough of a shock to break through the pleasant numbness that his mind and settled into over the last hour or so. The collar was having a substantial effect on him already–his face and head had shifted quite a bit, which explained why sucking the badger’s cock had felt so…odd, and why his tongue had been able to reach so many different places, while he was sucking. Fur was filling in, his brunette hair running down onto his neck and upper back, while the hair he had on his chest had lightened to a golden tan, and was coming in thicker.

“I guess someone wants to be a police dog after all,” Geoff said, giving Chance a scritch between his ears, which were somewhere between human, and growing and shifting upward into proper dog ones, “Looks like you’re going to be a pure german shepherd–that make you happy pup? Thinking about chasing down bad guys? Well, not chasing really, because look at that gut you’re packing already–you’ll probably have to be on desk duty, if you keep binging like that.”

The badger was right–he had gained weight. A lot of weight. He had always been a bit chubby, but his gut was now quite a bit larger, and hanging down over his waist, making it impossible to see his cock–the cock, he realized, that was rock hard. It had been rock hard this whole time, in fact, and he reached under to feel it, and was surprised by how…wet it felt. He repositioned himself in the mirror and hefted up his gut to get a better look, and sure enough, it wasn’t a human cock anymore. A sheath had grown up over it, and was covered with the same golden hair as the rest of his front, and a slick red cock was jutting from it, drooling slightly in excitement.

“Looks like you got a bit excited, pup. Hey Dingo! Get your fat ass in here.”

There was a grunt, and then Dingo appeared in the doorway. “Yes sir?”

“Get down and show this pup what a good cocksucker you are–I bet you’d appreciate that, wouldn’t you? Getting a blowjob from your husband? Well, not really your husband, since he’s mine now, but if you’re good, I might let you two visit each other from time to time.”

The anger flashed in Chance’s mind again, pushing away to numbness the collar had been laying over his mind. When Dingo got down and started sucking, it threatened to overwhelm him again, but he pushed back–if he didn’t do something now, he wasn’t going to have the will to do anything about it soon enough.

“What’s wrong, pup? I think Dingo has a pretty good snout on him, but you look like you aren’t even enjoying yourself.”

It took everything in him that he could muster, but he shoved Dingo off of his cock, spun around, and delivered a swift kick right into the badger’s crotch. It caught him completely off guard, and he dropped to the floor, giving Chance a chance to dash out of the bathroom. He made it only a few yards before he heard–and felt–heavy foot falls behind him. Dingo was chasing him, barking his head off at him, slobber flying, and at his shorter stature and much heavier weight, Chance had no hope of outrunning him. Dingo tackled him to the floor in the hall, sending them both crashing to the ground, and the impact knocked the wind from Chance’s lungs.

Pinning him there, Dingo kept barking, calling to his master, while Chance tried to shout back at him, plead with him to remember, to escape with him, to get the damn collars off their neck while they still could, but it was clear that Dingo–if he was even listening–didn’t care one whit what Chance might have to say. After a few seconds, Geoff appeared in the doorway to the bathroom, growling, and Dingo stopped barking and started wagging his tail. “I got ‘em Master! I got ‘em for you!”

“Good boy, Dingo–now stay on him,” Geoff said, and got down beside Chance, who was still trying to worm his way out from under Dingo’s massive bulk, but having no success. “That was a very bad pup. I’ll have you know, that I consider that to be an automatic failure on your exam here–I’m afraid I can’t have a disobedient animal on the force with me–it just isn’t safe–for me, or the citizens of this fair city.”

“Fuck you!” Chance shouted at him, with as much will as he could muster, “I don’t give a fuck, I’ll fucking fight you as best I can, no matter what! Angus, you have to snap out of this, please, I know you’re still in there, you have to be.”

“Oh? Is there anything left of him in there, Dingo? Do you feel bad about what you’re doing to Chance here?” the badger asked Dingo, and the big lug’s ears fell back slightly, and he gave a little whine.

“A…A little? I want to be a good boy though, so I’m sorry, it’s just…”

“Don’t worry Dingo, you’re being a very good boy–you’re doing everything exactly right.” Geoff said, and gave him a skritch behind his ears, watching his big dog’s tail wag, tongue lolling about in delight, “I figured there would be some–but once this little mutt under you is gone, there won’t be much left to hold him there in his mind anymore. Then you really will be mine–that’s what you want, right?”

“Yes sir! I love being your big stupid doggy!”

Chance gave a growl and redoubled his efforts to worm his way out from under Dingo’s massive frame, and managed to make a little progress, but before he could free himself, he felt the badger’s claws on the end of the collar around his neck. “Now, now, you need to stay put, little doggy,” the badger said, and he tugged the collar, tightening it another notch–and then another still.