Date: Wed, 26 Apr 2017 21:56:20 -0400
From: Bus Pender <buspender@aol.com>
Subject: Bud calls the shots

Bud calls the shots
by Bus Pender

........

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is
entirely unintentional.  This text deals with sexual relations between a
man and a dog.  If you find this offensive, if you are underage or if
possession of this text is illegal in your area, please leave now.  This
story is not intended to promote any action on the part of the reader.  It
is merely a fantasy and I hope you appreciate it as such.

Feedback welcome.

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........


We never know when life will throw us a curve ball.  When our reality will
turn on a dime, and a seemingly small event will, without warning, take on
immense and life-altering proportions.  I experienced just such an event
several years ago on what seemed like an average Saturday afternoon in the
park.

It was late September.  Not that sort of warm, honey-glow September day
that lulls you into thinking that summer forgot to leave, and that it's
imperative to squeeze every glorious second out of the seasonal overtime.
No.  It was sunny alright, but a bitter north wind was taking sizable bites
out of any semblance of summer, and the brilliance of the day ran in stark
contrast to the temperature that was hovering barely above freezing.

I was in a foul mood, and I'd gone for a walk to nurture my funk.  My
girlfriend Jess had unceremoniously dumped me the week before.  By text
message, no less.  What was it she'd written .. oh yeah, "I just don't feel
the chemistry anymore".  What the fuck, chemistry?  Was that all we were?
A science experiment?  A mix of chemicals that somehow failed to produce
the desired reaction?  I was bitter and angry, but in my heart I missed her
profoundly.  So I'd gone for a walk to milk my misery for all it was worth.
I really wanted to stew in it.

Given the weather, my walk didn't last nearly as long as I'd planned.  In
fact, I'd only been out ten minutes when the wretchedness of the day left
me with the distinct feeling that melancholy in the great outdoors would
not provide the relief I'd hoped for.  I decided to turn back and immerse
myself in despondency in the privacy, and warmth, of my own home.

I was making my way onto the path that swung by the parking lot when a car
pulled up and stopped.  An enormous dog spilled out: a German Shepherd,
crossed possibly with husky, malamute, wolf perhaps?  He was accompanied by
a young guy, maybe early 30s.  This was normal, it was a dog park, so I
didn't pay it much mind, except the guy looked really uncomfortable.  He
seemed on edge, apprehensive.  But he was trying to project a lighter air.
He was making a big show about how fun it was to be at the park with his
dog, and he was trying to get the dog all riled up.  But his efforts didn't
ring true, at least not to me.  He was trying too hard.  He cavorted with
the dog for several minutes, jumping, dodging, side-stepping, and then he
pulled out a throwing stick and whipped it as far as he could towards the
outskirts of the park.  The dog went nuts, and I stopped to watch him
barreling after the stick.  He caught up with it, worked his teeth around
it, spun around and started to run back to the guy.  But the guy was gone.
He had already gotten into his car and started to pull away.  This is
actually an understatement.  The guy must have darted back to his car as
soon as the stick left his hand, and he did a James Bond style exit.
Within seconds, the car had sped from the parking lot, engine gunning and
tires squealing.  He disappeared around a turn, and the only evidence that
he'd ever been there was the receding sound of the engine, which quickly
evaporated altogether into the general hum of the city.  And, of course,
the dog, who remained behind.

I turned back to the dog, who had slowed to a trot, stick still in his
mouth, returning to the place where the guy had been.  He stopped, dropped
the stick and looked quizzically towards the parking lot.  He was panting,
tail still wagging, but his wag was losing steam.  I looked from the dog,
back to where the car had gone, back to the dog, confused and torn.  Who
would do this to a magnificent animal like that?  He was an exceptional
specimen: handsome, youthful, muscular.

I approached him, crouched down on my haunches and petted him.  "Good boy,"
I cooed.  "He'll be back, I'm sure he's just having a bit of fun with you."
In my gut, I knew this wasn't true, and I suspected the dog did too.  I
stayed with him for a few more minutes before I started to get cold again.
Practicality, in the end, conquered empathy; I decided to head home.  I
mean, what could I do?  It wasn't MY problem.  He wasn't MY dog.  So I
left.

But I couldn't stop thinking about him.  What would possess someone to
abandon their pet like that?  Why not just bring him to a shelter if you
couldn't take care of him, or give him to a friend?  But to abandon him in
a park, it seemed unconscionable.

I had plans that evening to go out with friends, have some beers, a few
laughs and basically drown my sorrows.  And it was a fun evening.  My
friends were acting all goofy, and telling me that I could do better, that
Jess was the one who was losing out, that she must have been out of her
mind to let me go.  For my part, I took comfort in how they rallied around
me but deep down I felt the void of having a fundamental part of my life
disintegrate into thin air.  Abandoned, just like that dog.  That dog.

When we finally left the bar, I was drunk.  Not the `I'm gonna hurl!' kind
of drunk, but more like a happy stupid buzz.  Rather than taking a bus or
taxi, I decided to stumble home, and on the way I took a bit of a detour to
the dog park.  I'm not sure what I expected to find, but a part of me
wasn't surprised to discover the dog lying there, cold in the dewy grass of
autumn, staring in the direction of the parking lot.

"Hey boy," I whispered as I approached him, mauling his face and snout and
ears, being all gushy like I'd reconnected with a long lost friend.  "You
can't stay out here all night, you're gonna freeze to death."  I paused for
a moment.  "Ya know what, come with me and we'll see if we can't find you a
good home."

I started to walk away, kind of backwards and sideways, encouraging him
with hand gestures and slaps on my thighs, but he wouldn't budge.  I walked
back to him, crouched down and petted his face some more.

"Look," I said, "I know what happened was shit, and that guy didn't deserve
to have you, and I can't replace whatever you had with him, but maybe I can
give you a good home, just for a while, till we find a place for you to
live.  Whaddya say, huh?"  He sniffed my hand, licked it and looked at me.

I got up again and started to run, forward, backward, off to the side, and
whooping loudly for him to come.  And he came.  It was like a complete
turnaround.  One second he was lying there looking all helpless and
forlorn.  And then suddenly his ears perked up and he bolted towards me.
We gamboled together for a bit before we slowed down, me to a stagger, him
to a comfortable amble.

We got to my front door, I fumbled for what seemed like an eternity with
the key.  When I finally managed to work the lock, I opened the door and
the dog pushed past me and went right in.  I followed, and he roamed around
the entire place, checking out every room, every corner and alcove.  He
took to the place immediately, acting as though he'd lived there forever.

I didn't have any dog food in the house, of course, so I opened a can of
beef stew and gave him some, along with a bowl of water.  He inhaled the
stew and slapped his tongue lustily at the water.  I gave him more stew
which he finished off as well.

"I'm gonna call you Bud, `cause right now you're my best bud", I said.  I
spent a few moments taking in exactly what I'd just done.  I was now
sharing my living space with a sizable animal, one who had certain needs
and for whom I was eminently responsible.  For the time being, anyway.

I decided to go to bed.  I was tired, still drunk, and unsure as to what I
was going to do with my new friend.  I stripped down to my boxers and
t-shirt, drained my bladder and collapsed into bed.  I had the heat on in
the bedroom so I pushed off the comforter and lay on my back, like I was
floating in a cushy lagoon.  I was asleep almost instantly.

And I dreamt.  Jess and I were on a hike in mountainous terrain.  The hills
around us were large and looming, and they became more imposing as we
progressed.  We were laughing and horsing around, chasing and lunging at
each other one minute, groping and necking the next.  As we went along, our
path led us to a rocky ledge which started to drop off sharply on one side,
and quickly became a cliff.  The track we were walking along had narrowed
significantly, and I was feeling unsettled in my stomach and my knees and
my groin.  I have a fear of heights, especially sudden drops,
double-especially when someone else is in extremely close proximity to me,
so this was a perfect combination of personal fear factors.  At one point,
Jess pulled me in towards her, kissing me deep and wet.  She slid her hand
into my pants and began toying with my cock, getting me all worked up.  I
started to bring my arms around so I could get a lock on her hips, but
before I could she pushed me back hard, over the precipice, and down.  I
was in a slow-mo free fall, and my limbs were flailing, and I was
screaming, and at the same time I was becoming increasingly aroused.  At
the root of my terror was a fundamental feel-good, a sexual delirium that
only intensified the further I fell.  What the fuck.

I woke up with a start .. panicked, sweaty and confused.  And struggling to
make sense of the surreal scene before me.  Bud was on the bed, crouched
between my open legs, my cock was standing straight up out of the fly of my
boxers and he was lapping at it.  He was licking my dick and it felt so
fucking good.  And he wasn't taking tentative licks, no, he was lapping at
it in a serious and driven way, like his very existence depended on it.  He
licked the underside, right up to the sweet spot, swirling his tongue
around the head, and back down along the sides.  Then licking inside the
fly, down to my balls and back up again.  His hammy tongue was soft and
wet, with just a hint of abrasion which only heightened the sweet
sensations he was causing.  There was a heavy warmth to it too, and in my
alcoholic stupor I had to remind myself that this was a dog that was
pleasuring me, bringing me, inescapably, to orgasm.  What the fuck.

I reached for his head and petted him, ruffling and pulling at his fur.  I
told him he couldn't do that, that he'd have to stop, but I was laughing as
I told him, and my "command" lacked any kind of authority.  So I dropped my
head back onto the pillow and just let it happen.  I closed my eyes and
imagined it was Jess going down on me, as I made my slow approach to
ejaculation.  In the end, it wasn't so slow.  Perhaps two or three minutes
later I was squirting all over the place, gasping and grunting.  And Bud
continued to lick, lapping it all up, everywhere it fell, he licked.  He
returned his attention back to my prick and took care of the bits that had
oozed out after the eruption.  When he was done, he jumped down from the
bed and lay at the far end of the room licking his chops.

I was in disbelief at what had just happened.  This dog that I'd brought
home had just given me a blow job with his tongue.  What the fuck.  I got
out of bed and crouched down beside him.  I petted his face, smoothed his
fur.

"Where on earth did you learn to do that?", I said.  "Am I dreaming?"

I crawled back into bed, wrapped the covers over me and fell back to sleep
immediately.

In the morning I was feeling the effects of the night before.  Headache,
dry mouth and extreme fatigue.  I resolved to have a lazy day and take the
time to get used to the fact that I now had a roommate.  I made a big
greasy breakfast, which I shared with Bud, and sucked down several cups of
strong coffee.  After breakfast I decided to do the dishes and then head
back to bed.  I was still in my boxers and t-shirt, and was standing at the
sink, elbow deep in suds, when Bud came sidling up to me and started to
nuzzle my crotch.

"Hey Bud, are you still hungry?", I asked.  He pushed his nose into my
crotch again, this time a bit more forcefully.  I turned to face him and
asked, "What is it Bud?  What do you want?"

He stuck his snout right into my fly, and I could feel the coolness of his
nose against my dick.  Then he started to lick.  I pulled back and took his
face in my hands and said, "Noooo, that's not gonna happen.  If you're
still hungry I'll give you some stew but you can't do that.  I shouldn't'a
let you do it in the first place."

He shook off my grip and poked his snout back into my fly and began licking
again, this time more insistently.  My dick responded immediately, so I
pulled away again, but as I did, he let out a slow, deep growl, and eased
his face back into my crotch.  Again I backed off and put my hand to the
bottom of his snout, aiming his face at mine.

"NO!", I commanded in my best alpha male voice.

He responded with another low growl and pushed his face back into my
crotch; he began to lick once again.  I started to pull away but the
subsequent growl was accompanied by something a bit more threatening: bared
teeth.  I froze.  His jaws were mere inches from my favorite organ and he
was threatening me with the loss of said organ if I didn't let him partake.
This had gone on long enough and I took a quick step back to escape his
advances.  He snapped at me instantly, continued to growl with teeth bared
as he maneuvered his snout towards and into my fly.

He was still growling lowly as his nose made contact once again with my
cock.  His growl trailed off as he began to lick.  And lick.  Just like the
night before.  It's difficult to describe how terrified and helpless and
exposed I felt in that moment.  Yet despite this, my cock became hard
almost instantly and it popped out of my fly, pointing directly at his
face.  Bud continued to feed on it, and further efforts to back off or stop
what he was doing were met with the now familiar growl.  I was powerless to
stop what was happening, and at the same time a part of me hungered for it
to continue.  The act was raw, crude, electrifying.  Purely animal and
fiercely pleasurable.  Which left me perplexed, disturbed: my mind was
telling me that it was wrong and it needed to stop; but my body didn't give
a flying fuck, and just wanted to further indulge in this unthinkable
communion.

"Please, Bud, you can't do this.  You have to stop." I was whimpering.  It
had no effect.

My fear slowly subsided as I became more and more entranced by the actions
of his savage tongue.  I could feel the orgasm approaching, and within a
couple of minutes I was shooting all over his face and onto the kitchen
floor.  I tugged at the fur just below his ears as I came with a rumbly
growl of my own.  He licked up every drop of cum, from my dick, the floor,
the sides of his snout.  After he finished, he went and lay down in the
corner, staring at me.

Post-ejaculation sensibility set in, as I tried to fathom just what the
fuck was going on here?  I felt like I'd just been raped by this dog.  How
could this be happening?  Here I thought I was doing a good thing by giving
this dog a home, or at least temporary shelter, and now he was forcing me
to submit to him sexually.  It seemed too bizarre to comprehend.  It dawned
on me that that must have been the reason why that guy had abandoned Bud.
This had me worried because it meant that I might need to take extreme
measures to resolve the situation.

I decided that I would try to trick him into going outside; then I could
lock him out.  I knew he'd need to relieve himself, he hadn't been out
since the night before, so I opened the back door and tried to coax him
outside.  He looked at the door, looked at me and didn't move.

"C'mon boy, let's go outside, time to take a pee", I said playfully.
Nothing.

I stepped outside onto the back porch to further entice him.  He followed
me out but wouldn't go beyond where I was.  I went down to the yard and
encouraged him to come too.  He joined me, staying a few feet closer to the
door than I was.  He lifted his leg by a bush and relieved himself.  He
went to another bush and took a dump.  While he was occupying himself, I
started to edge slowly towards the house but he bolted back and easily beat
me to it.  We both went inside; he led the way.

The rest of the morning was tense.  I was tip-toeing around the place,
being careful not to put myself into any circumstance where I might be
vulnerable.  I let him out a few more times, but he wouldn't go anywhere
unless I came with him, and he never went quite as far from the house as I
did.

Later in the afternoon I went to the store to buy wet food and kibble.
When I got back, Bud jumped up and bounded toward me, obviously happy that
I'd returned.  He was wagging his tail and dancing around.  I fed him and
took him out for another pee.  I started to think that maybe things would
be alright after all.

After the morning encounter, I decided, for obvious reasons, to wear long
pants around the house, I figured I was safe like that.  Sometimes we can
be so wrong.  After we came in from outside, he started nuzzling my crotch
again.  I ignored him and went about my business but he persisted in
following me, always brushing his snout against my crotch.  I went from
room to room, cleaning, tidying up, rearranging, but he was always there.
At one point he cut off my access from the corner of the living room where
I'd been organizing my desk.  He pushed his snout into my crotch and began
to lick the fly of my pants.  And I let him.  I figured he'd get tired of
it because he wouldn't be able to locate my dick.  Within a few minutes,
there was saliva goo all over the front of my pants and he was getting
frustrated.  He started to grab the fabric with his teeth, pulling and
ripping at it.  This wasn't funny, he was going to ruin my pants, not to
mention the fact that he might accidentally chomp on my cock as he was
trying to get at it.  I tried to turn him away, divert his attention, but
he would have none of it.  A couple more tugs and the fabric over my crotch
was starting to show signs of fraying.  For fuck's sake, he was going to
get at me whether I liked it or not.  I crouched down to him, took his
enormous head in my hands and made a final appeal.

"Look Bud, you can't do this, you gotta stop, you gotta cut this out."

Bud took advantage of my unguarded position and pushed into me, forcing me
off balance, backwards.  I landed on my back and he moved in between my
legs and started to tear at the fabric at my crotch once again.  I backed
away on my hands and bum, pushing off with my feet, but he pursued me right
until I hit the wall.  I was cornered

"Okay, you want it?! Here, fuck, take it!" I screamed as I undid my pants
and whipped out my dick.  To my horror, I discovered I was hard.  My dick
was fucking hard and Bud was on it in a second.  He began to lick
feverishly.  I sat there, in an upright position, watching with incredulity
my dog giving me another blow job.  I felt like I was becoming a sexual
slave to this dog.  He wanted my dick and I had no say in the matter; he
was going to get it whenever he wanted it, regardless of how I felt about
it.

My cock was really sensitive from having been licked to orgasm twice in
less than twelve hours, and Bud's renewed efforts were causing me
considerable discomfort.  I was sore, and wincing as he licked at me but,
truth be told, there was an aspect of bliss to the pain.  I was actually
enjoying it again, and I didn't want him to stop.  And there was something
else too.  A part of me was thrilled at being forced into sexual
submission, entirely unable to refuse or fight back.  And the fact that it
was a large animal that was coercing me into sex made the experience
strangely exotic.  What the fuck was happening to me?

Within a few minutes, Bud had me jizzing wildly and uncontrollably.  It was
somewhat of a painful orgasm this time, especially when he continued
working my tender cock after the initial discharge.

Once again, the gravity of the situation was becoming clearer to me.  How
the fuck was I going to get out of this?  He wouldn't leave the house
unless I was with him, I couldn't defend myself against his advances.  What
was I going to do?

I decided to contact the humane society.  I made the call and told them
that I had a dog that I was no longer able to care for, so they told me to
bring him in.  Great.  I grabbed the car keys and the two of us went
outside together.  I opened the door to the car and told him to get in, but
he just sat there looking at me.  I got in the car and started it, and
called him again, but he wouldn't move.  He was evidently leery of getting
in a car.  Go figure.

I followed Bud back into the house and whipped my keys across the room in
frustration.  What the fuck!  I called the humane society again and told
them my dog refused to come with me.  They told me that they no longer had
a pick-up service and that if I wanted them to take my dog, I'd have to
bring him in myself.  I hung up the phone in despair.

I felt like I was being held hostage, and I couldn't see any way out of the
situation.  I was too embarrassed to tell my friends.  If I called the
police, what would I say?  My dog won't stop blowing me?  My dog is forcing
me to have sex with him?  My dog has turned me into his bitch?  As I say, I
was stuck.

To make matters worse, it was becoming apparent that Bud was on to me.  He
somehow sensed that I was plotting his departure, and he was following me
everywhere.  My only refuge was outside.  I was able to go out without him
but when I returned he'd follow my every move.  It was like I was being
stalked.

Over the next few days we fell into an uneasy routine.  I took care of what
I needed to do around the house and he would shadow me.  From time to time
he would demand my cock, and I would comply.  More often than not, I was
hard by the time I got my dick out of my pants.  He'd lick me until I came,
and then I'd continue doing the things I needed to do.  I was able to go to
work each day, but when I returned home he would be waiting for me,
insisting that I offer him my dick, which I did.

On the Friday morning, I was getting ready to take a shower before heading
to work.  I'd gotten into the habit of closing the bathroom door when I
showered so he couldn't get at me; it was important that I have SOME
private moments.  But this morning I was running late and, in my hurry, I'd
left the door open.  I stripped down and was getting ready to enter the
shower stall when I realized I needed to get a new bar of soap.  I grabbed
one from under the sink but as I was turning toward the shower it slipped
out of my hand and went sliding to the far end of the bathroom and under
the cabinet.  I got down on all fours to retrieve the soap when I suddenly
experienced something cold and moist pressing against my ass crack.  I
froze.  Then he started with his tongue, lapping at my hole.  Dear god,
this wasn't possible.  I started to rise slowly in an effort to get into a
standing position but the familiar low growl sent me back down on all
fours.  I tried to turn towards him, to offer my dick as a concession, but
he growled me back into submission.

He continued to lick at my hole until it was was sodden and quivering.  It
was then that he clambered urgently onto my back, and my true horror began.