Kyle: Confessions of a Confused Mutt
#3 of Kyle
Mason Finally gets his way with Kyle!
As you might have noticed, I'm trying a new format here. Chapter three was merged into chapter two, and from now on the chapters as a whole are going to be closer to 4k words, then two!
The atmosphere at the Crooked Crook was perfect; bustling, lively, a real class act as far as taverns went. In fact, Kyle could practically feel the character of the place peeling off the walls. On a raised platform in the middle a lively Irish band composed of a wolf and a weasel were playing shanties and folk. Busty waitresses rushed around the patron's space, taking orders, flirting, and serving food. The bartender, an aged cat imbued with an old-fashion style was hardly out of place as he flipped bottles and poured drinks with the kind of feline grace many cats bragged about, but didn't quite have. Mason had picked a small, intimate table for two off in one of the quieter corners of the tavern, still part of the action, of course, but removed enough to have a conversation where one didn't have to yell to be heard.
"It's my first time here, too. I think... I like the place. You?"
"I'll judge it after the food is served, but ya, so far it seems good," Kyle replied, letting himself relax enough to smile.
Over the course of the bowling game apprehensions gave way to mutual competitiveness until, in the last rounds when Kyle was far enough ahead of Mason to feel safe, the Doberman imparted some of his wisdom on form.
'We'll have to have a rematch some time', Kyle had said after their game finished.
'Seeing as I was catching up in the end--thanks to you--lets.'
And there was this fleeting second when Kyle could look Mason in the eyes and feel something for the Belgian Malinois, and it scared the hell out of him but he still stared
"What are you going to have?"
"An appetizer for now, I think."
"If you get the deep-fried pickles I'll split it with you," Mason proposed.
A moment of silence as both animals went back to browsing their food selection. Mason broke it.
"Why were you so good at bowling?"
"I was regional champ back in high school. The gladiators, we were called: a pretty stupid name for a bowling team when I look back on it, but it was grade ten and we didn't know any better."
"Nothing is as lame as the name of my grade school's hockey team."
"Oh?"
"The Little Lords."
"Oh, that is bad."
"It's what happens when you're at a low-income Catholic school."
Kyle opened his maw as if to speak, but then closed it. An unsung question hung like phlegm in his throat.
"What's a gay dog to do in a Catholic school, right? That's what you were going to ask."
Kyle blushed and nodded slightly. "You don't have to tell me if it'll make you uncomfortable."
"It's fine. It was hell... mind the pun. In my senior years my balls had dropped and I'd started to... question myself. My first relationship was a short one in grade 8; Conner was his name. I hardly remember him but that kiss we shared under the overhang waiting for the school bus one morning was simultaneously the most intimate and detrimental kiss of my life. Of course, some of my other classmates were there and when they saw it happen, they were in uproar."
Kyle didn't dare speak. He felt like an explorer unearthing some long-hidden gem of honesty.
"It was dominoes after that. Mine and his family did everything they could to keep us apart, and when that was done, I was sent to therapy."
"For real?"
"I was born in the American south. Anything is possible when it comes to bigotry. Thank god not all of my classmates shared the same disdain as my parents and teachers. Suzie, another eighth-grader, became a good friend and pillar for me over that challenging time of my life. To keep my parents off my back I told them she was my girlfriend. They thanked god for curing me and things settled. Me and Suzie, we were close for the rest of that year and all the way through high school until I moved here to Canada with my brother."
"Foxtrot."
"Yep." Mason had an uncharacteristically distant look in his eyes, and Kyle found the display surprisingly painful to bear.
So much so, in fact, that he felt compelled to change the subject and lighten the mood.
"Let's drop the story, dog. What's foxtrot's real name."
"Foxtrot." But Mason was smiling mischievously, and Kyle didn't even care if he'd never get the truth.
"Hey boys." The waitress, all curves and seductive bumps, flashed a smile at Mason; good luck with that.
"uhh-" Mason looked to where her nametag was "-Pythia."
"That's me!"
"Hi. We've decided on our appetisers."
"Go on..."
"My handsome Doberman friend here would like to split some deep-fried pickles with me, and..."
"I'll have an Irish boot. A pilsner- Steam Whistle if you still have some on tap."
"We do."
"Perfect. Mason, you want anything?"
"Hmm, a boot of pale ale will do. Alexander Keith's?"
"Mhm," the waitress patiently replied.
"Then that's it for now."
"Great. I'll be back with your drinks in a moment. The pickles should come in a few."
Mason's licked his black lips. "I'm getting excited."
"I think someone was getting excited over you."
"Ironic, isn't it? I've been told a lady likes a faggot because he's got a lining of femininity in him- something she can relate to."
"Well, maybe but you're also a looker-" Kyle caught himself but it was too late; He'd already said it.
"You think that, huh?"
"Well- um..."
"Kyle, you gotta stop running from all of this."
"I'm not gay though!"
"So you found her attractive? Thought what it would be like to fuck her?" Mason's intensity fizzled but never became pronounced enough to make Kyle uncomfortable.
"Just because I don't want to plow every women I see doesn't prove anything."
"Well, look around. Look at all the waitresses. It's like they were hand tailored to seduce men."
Kyle entertained Mason's conspiracy for a moment and looked around. He began to note things; how few female patrons there were, how the girls were interacting with the other men... and then a sign and a hallway. Kyle's revelation came at the exact same time as Mason's admittance.
"Looks like that friend of yours, Aft, didn't tell you the full story about this place."
He was right. A traditionally drawn picture of a naked vixen stood sentry seductively over the hallway behind her. There were private rooms, too.
"Is this a fucking brothel?"
"I don't think so, but it certainly isn't for kids." Mason chuckled. "Does it make you feel uncomfortable?"
The Doberman thought on it for a moment, and then shook his head.
"Me neither."
The drinks came quickly, quickly enough that Kyle was still recovering from the realization when Pythia returned.
"What's that hallway for?" Kyle quarried.
"The Crooked Crook shares a building with Tease. Some of their private rooms are down that hall, though we've turned two of them into bathrooms. I think it's a five dollar admission to get into the other side, but the girls are a bit more expensive than that. She winked."
There was a moment of silence as she shuffled her notepad and scribbled in something. "Have you studs decided on a meal?"
"The wheelhouse burger, blue, if you can serve it that rare. A side of Caesar Salad with it and, uuh, that should do it."
She turned her gaze to Mason.
"I'll have the Crooked Crook tasting platter."
"And what kind of meat?"
"Beef. I heard your patties were excellent so I don't want to miss out.
"Great! You'll be served as soon as possible."
Mason's eyes followed Pythia as she wove her way through the tables with their chit in paw, chuckled, then turned back to Kyle and took a big sip of his ail.
"Told you so."
"Their food better be good."
"Well the drinks are, at least. I mean look at the size of this thing."
The Belgian Malinois hoisted his drink up, being placed on the table just didn't show the weight well enough, and Kyle noted how the dog's muscles bulged as they braced against the burden.
"Do you exercise much?" Kyle asked.
"Yea. About three times a week. I could probably do it more often but I always find myself too busy. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, nothing."
"Well, since it seems you could do with some shaping up-"
"Excuse me?"
"You could use some muscle mass."
"I'm strong!"
"Well, it doesn't show." Mason winked playfully and Kyle mock-growled in response.
"I'll prove it to you," the Doberman finally spat.
"How?"
"An arm wrestle."
"Fine, but the looser has to chug his boot." Mason shifted his weight on the seat and fixed Kyle in a sharp-toothed grin.
The Doberman felt his confidence falter. "The whole boot?"
"If you're strong enough, you won't have to work out the statistics!"
Kyle rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine... everything has to be a competition with you, huh?"
Flexing his arm, Kyle rested his elbow on the table. Mason licked his lips and brought his paw to meet the blacker one. To Kyle, the Malinois' pads felt like well-worn leather (rough but yielding) and when their palms touched, he could detect how warm the brown-coated dog really was; realized suddenly that this was the first time they'd touched each other. It felt right, just like everything else had with Mason, but deep down he still loathed himself for it.
Lost to reverie as it were, Kyle forgot to tense when Mason started to drag him down to the table. He made a half-hearted attempt to catch himself half way, and even held a weak defense until he was overpowered and his paw slammed to the table.
"Easy."
"I wasn't ready!" Kyle retorted indignantly, but brought a paw down to hoist the heavy boot up to his lips
"Drink up, mutt!"
And he did: at least it tasted good. Even Mason was surprised when, a minute later, Kyle unsteadily placed an empty boot back on the coaster, burped, and grinned.
"Well I'll be damned. I didn't actually think you'd be able to drink it."
"You obviously don't know much about me."
"It's true, I don't. Do I finally get to learn?"
"Keep feeding me these-"he woozily pointed at the boot-"and you might." Kyle broke down into a fit of drunken chuckles.
Kyle leaned into the urinal, one paw resting on its top for stability and the other around his sheath. For a moment, all that could be heard was the monotonous trickling of a broken tap. The door opened. A shuffling of shoes and then a familiar scent... Kyle could be another boot in and still identify it.
"There you are." Mason's slightly slurred voice cut through the quiet bathroom.
He pulled up beside Kyle and unzipped his fly; started taking a leak. And Kyle, in all the subtlety of a drunken Doberman, stared right at the plump sheath in Mason's paw. If Mason was uncomfortable with Kyle's intent stare he didn't show it as he emptied his bladder. As he went to zip up, however...
"Like what you see?"
For Kyle, the glance had become an unfocused gaze; he even thought his tongue was hanging out a bit. _Whatever_he was doing, his reverie was broken when he heard Mason. At once a torrential onslaught of embarrassment electrified his innards, cutting through the alcohol.
"Shit, sorry Mason... I sorta zoned out, and-"
"You don't have to do this to yourself anymore."
"Do what?"
"Hide! I said it before and I'll say it again... it isn't 1720, it's 2017. Come with me."
Before Kyle could react he was tugged from the urinal and brought into an adjacent stall.
"Sit on the toilet seat. We need to talk." The level of command in Mason's voice struck like a whip, rendering the Doberman immobile. "Have you ever had sex with a bitch?"
"No, but-"
"Then how the hell do you know what you're about?"
It might have been the drink, but Kyle really couldn't come to a conclusion. "Dude, I still need to piss. Let me go."
"You're sitting on a toilet. Use it."
"Not with you watching!"
"I'll turn around. And while you're at it, really, really think about what you like about a girl's body."
Kyle had no problem relieving himself now that he was sitting down, and in seconds he was already well on his way to empty. When his stream finally tapered off and Mason turned back to him, he was no closer to a conclusion, and still had his pants down; he covered his crotch with a paw.
"So, what is it?"
"I like their, um... breasts."
"Do you really? Think about the porn you've watched. Where's your eye gone?"
Kyle could sure think about that... in fact, the filthy foreign video he'd seen three days before, the one with the Doberman brothers and the cat, instantly came to mind. And with that memory, he also remembered what had happened when he was about to cum; he'd projected himself into the video as if it were he, not the cat, who was under all of those raunchy dogs.
"Well, sometimes I pretend like I'm in the video..."
"Which one? The guy or the girl?"
"Almost always the guy, but recently...." Kyle was afraid to progress.
"Just tell me. I've definitely done worse."
"Well, when I was trying to PM you on Fet-fession I ran into this video with these three Doberman in it."
Mason's stern expression faltered as he let out a chuckle.
"The spotlighted one for Bukkake, right?"
"Yea, that one."
"You projected yourself into the cat, huh?"
"Yes." To Kyle's surprise, it was like a weight had lifted now that he'd finally admitted it.
It was true; ever since he'd met Mason his world had gone topsy-turvy. His aspirations to have a wife and three kids when he was older--a few girlfriends along the way, even--seemed less interesting. Now he wanted to get out and explore things- move out of Burlington and get closer to Toronto, if he could.
"Listen, Kyle." Mason's voice had taken a very kind, soothing tone as he leaned against the door of the stall. "I get it, you think it's wrong... but the real disservice here is what you're inflicting on yourself. Look."
The Malinois began to unbutton his pants and Kyle made a half-hearted wave to try and deter him. "Come on, dude-"
"Relax, dobie. I'm not gonna to do anything to ya."
The last button came undone and the pants were pulled down to rest around his knees; Kyle could see the dog's deep-purple undergarments now, marked with a drip of piss from before but most notably tented by the Belgian's sheath. A sharp scent made Kyle's nose twitch. He noticed that this was the first time he'd smelled another male's sex; it didn't smell that bad, either. Kyle placed it as something between an apple pie incense gone wrong and cinnamon sticks.
"Half way there. And ya, I see that nose of yours twitching. It's not that bad, huh?"
Mason hooked a shiny black claw around the grey waistband and tugged it down, showing off the contour where his sheath pulled away from his body. Without it being half-hidden behind a paw and his pants, the true girth became evident. He was big. In a remote corner of his mind, Kyle felt a bit jealous. The underwear was pulled to meet the jeans and then Mason let both articles fall to the floor, revealing his entire lower body. Kyle noted that the smell had changed once more. Sweat and apples: a bit more noxious, but still agreeable.
"Now look at it."
Kyle did and became aware of how his own body was reacting. He didn't feel shocked or uncomfortable... just reflective and admitted tentatively: a bit aroused as well.
"See, I thought you'd be fine with it. Now you might be sniffing me out right now, actually, I know you are... first time sniffing something like it, huh?"
Kyle nodded very subtly.
"And from your own scent I can tell you're not just fine with it, but even a bit enticed." He moved forwards a pace and Kyle leaned back.
"Mason...."
"No, go on. Stop holding back." The dog moved closer and Kyle leaned in a bit.
In a moment Mason's sheathhole was at Kyle's snout... the scent was intoxicating. Kyle knew he was sporting a wicked hard-on, knew Mason was well aware of it, too.
"Give it a nuzzle or a lick. Get familiar with it, and accept what it means to you, dammit. If you aren't comfortable in your own skin at this point in your life, you're doing something wrong."
Kyle attempted to suppress a whimper welling up in his throat as the bigger dog's musk settled around him but failed, soon giving the sheath a firm enough rub with his nose that it pulled back and showed off an inch of pink.
"Good!" Mason retreated back to the stall door and started pulling up his underwear, leaving Kyle rendered speechless; had he actually just sniffed another male's cock? Yes.
"Hating yourself for it?"
"No..."
"Feeling like you just did something wrong?"
"Uhg, no. What have you done to me Mason?"
The Belgian Malinois was zipping up his jeans. "Nothing, believe it or not. But I just might have instigated a cataclysmic event in your life."
"Yea..."
"I think you need another drink. This one's on me though."
Mason brought his paw down so it was eye level with Kyle on the toilet seat. Kyle knew what it meant without actually knowing... if he grabbed his accomplice's paw he would finalize his acceptance of what had just gone down between the two of them, and check off that daunting checkbox within himself: that he was gay after all. The choice was simple in the end. With a quirky little half-smile he grabbed Mason's paw and let himself be pulled up.