Thankful
Here's a pretty twisted little thing I banged out before leaving work for the week. I'm posting it without a read-through because I'm an impulsive and forgetful writer who would otherwise forget it exists by the time I get home...so here, take it!! It's got issues! =D
Tucker was in the kitchen with Mom and Bingo. He was sitting on the edge of his chair. There was no point in getting comfortable; his mom was making lemonade - she would be asking him to take it out to his father in the back yard at any moment. He had homework to finish still, but he knew he wasn't going to be able to get to that for some time. If he tried to go upstairs, she would be calling his name before he reached the stairway. This was just the way it went. It was the rhythm of the house, and Tucker marched in perfect time.
Bingo tugged the boy's socks with her teeth. She was on her paws and knees under the table, growling and yipping.
"Hey, cut it out, will ya?" Tucker rocked his leg, but the little girl was locked in tight.
"Tucker!" There was the call he was waiting for.
"Yeah, Mom."
"Can you take this lemonade out to your father?" His mom set out a tray with a pitcher and two glasses, all filled with ladders of ice cubes.
"Aw, Mom. Do I gotta?" He didn't know he was going to try a protest until that moment. He was already getting out of his chair and moving toward the island where the tray waited.
"Your poor father works so hard for us, Tucker. The least you could do is give him a nice cold drink every once in a while."
"But he'll try to..." Tucker didn't know what to say. He looked out the window to the back yard where his dad was sitting at his barbecue bench, hunched over a magazine or catalogue or something. "...try to...use me."
"Oh, Tucker!" His mother never stopped moving. Even her voice was flighty. Her mind was already somewhere ahead of her body. "I wish you'd use those legs of yours before all that ice melts and ruins everything!"
Tucker opened his mouth, but his mom was already out of the kitchen and off to take care of something else. He looked to his sister. She was growling at him from the shelter of the kitchen table.
"Wish you'd take it to him," Tucker muttered as he picked up the tray with both of his pudgy white paws.
"I don't want daddy to Use me!"
Tucker almost spilled everything as his shoulders jerked up. The little girl said the last two words loud enough for the Goofs to hear. She had a frequency that cut through walls. Tucker steadied his breath and balance and pushed the back door open with his wide behind.
"He never uses you," he said, keeping his voice down. He turned and let the door close behind him, looking across the lawn, at the back of his father's intimidating form. "He only uses me," the boy mumbled to himself and carried the tray of lemonade out to his father.
Dodger didn't look up when his son approached. He was flipping through a thick catalogue, dragging his finger over pictures of in-ground swimming pools and hot tub patios.
Tucker set the tray next to where his dad's massive forearm stretched out across the table. He wasn't saying anything. He could just escape. Head straight back and get up to his room.
"Get over here, boy."
The voice was soft but commanding. Tucker found he was responding before his dad had finished his sentence, walking around to where the big dog was straddling the long plank of the bench. Where his lap was.
"Come here."
Dodger never looked up from his catalogue, but this time when he addressed his son, the big dog also reached a heavy paw up to clamp around the back of Tucker's wide neck. Tucker gulped dryly and stammered as he felt the big paw pulling him in. And downward.
"No. Dad, please."
Dodger didn't say anything else. He brought his boy's head between his legs while taking his hard member out of his shorts, the hem of which he locked under his fat ball sack. Tucker's mouth was already around his dad's dick, and he sucked like he was supposed to. Working up a good amount of saliva to give his father's cock a good warm and wet home while the boy caressed the older dog's penis artfully and lovingly.
It was a thick and strong tool, much like the owner, and it similarly intimidated the boy. It was almost too big to keep him his muzzle and also work over it in the right way; often the young dingo would feel his jaw cramping up as he prayed for his dad to cum.
Then if he did a good job and actually got his daddy to enjoy his cocksucking, he would have to put up with that hard thing jabbing at his throat. He had to straighten out his neck and swallow at just the right time, trapping the fat head in place so it would spear the passage safely. He was proud of himself now that he found he didn't always lose his voice after getting throat-fucked by his dad.
When his dad finally gave him his seed, and it spat into Tucker's belly - the fat rod jerking and bloating with each shot and heartbeat - Tucker would feel the best wash of happiness deep inside him. It tickled and he wanted to giggle when he felt it. He knew it was really just the relief of knowing it was all over and his body could finally relax after so much stressful work. That was the real reason he got so giddy when his poppa fed him his cum. The cum that made him.
Tucker shivered. Smashed up grass blades were pressing into his paw pads and bare knees. Somehow the discomfort and prickly pain of it all just added to the tickly pleasures. He felt like he had just awoken from a replenishing nap; ready to go! He was full of life and his own father's sperm. That homework would be a breeze once he got back up to his bedroom - after he beat off real quick and had a couple warm glasses of tea with honey. That always went down nice following a face-fucking.
Sometimes he liked to guzzle the tea down so that he'd have to burp. Then he could taste his father's jizz again. He'd usually be able to taste it in school the next day, and that was always a surprise. It wasn't like he could forget what had happened the night before - waking with a swollen, half-healed-over larynx - but it made Tucker think of home and his family, and something about that made the day go better.
After his daddy fed him, Dodger kept his prick in his son's throat until it was ready to retreat to Tucker's mouth. Then Tucker gently bathed the now cum-slimy penis with his fat tongue until his dad put it back into his shorts.
Tucker slowly unbent his knees and stood, rubbing grass out of his fur and wiping his paws over his shirt. They rubbed over his stomach. It was fat and full of his daddy's spunk. Tucker quietly back away to the back door of the house, all the while rubbing tenderly over his stomach, at the freshly bloated curve where his stomach sat under several inches of soft flesh. His father really did make sure they were taken care of and had a nice home to grow up in; his mom was right about that.
Tucker thought about all the comforts they were blessed with every day as he stirred extra honey into his tea. Occasionally he would rub a paw over the front of his neck - he had to turn his head upward to stretch out a fat double-chin, but that even felt good. Carefully clearing his throat, testing the muscles, he swallowed at a couple of teaspoons of saliva with milky traces of semen, working it down that grease-coated chute.
He carefully carried the two glasses with him on his way to his bedroom. He didn't know where his mother or Bingo were, and he wasn't sure what he'd say if one of them tried to talk to him. He wasn't very able to assist with much now; this was his time to recuperate. He hoped a knowing nod to either of them would remind them of what he had told them before taking out the lemonade: that his dad would use him. His present state - airy speech, if any; grass-stained clothing and fur; the light trembles that hid so subtly beneath the skin - should convey just how thoroughly used the boy had been.
He had done his job. And now he had to do his homework - if he didn't fall asleep after masturbating, of course. And he might. It felt like every muscle in him was about to melt. But that would make it all too easy. For some reason, one muscle was very awake, and in Tucker's dazy post-molested state, he like he was being led up the stairs and down the hall by that very muscle. The thought made him giggle - a sound that would probably frighten anyone who might hear - like a faint ghost wisping down the hall, delicate wafting noises separated by hollow silences in the most surreal morse code.
...SOS...Dad just fucked my face...Attention...boy with bellyful of dog sperm being dick-led to bed...
The dingo curled up on the mattress as much as his spoiled young body would allow. His stomach was fat, and it stuck out, firm like a round throw pillow. So he just curled himself around his belly. He petted at it. He felt so warm there, feeling how his daddy's cum bloated it out.
His dick jumped, and he reached for it. He cuddled his belly while he pawed at the inches that still poked out from his fat pad. He knew he was so lucky to be this well-fed. A lot of people had to struggle to get by every day, and he was thankful he had no idea what that kind of life would be like. His father took care of him. His father had loved him so much, and every inch of fat was proof.
His stomach gurgled. The movements of his masturbating paw had caused his belly to jiggle all over, and the motions were helping Tucker digest his father's sperm.
"Uv uh..."
It was like blowing into a length of hollow pipe. Tucker licked at his lips and tasted salt. His belly was gurgling audibly now as his food lurched along its way. His now emptying stomach missed the stretched-out feelings, and suddenly Tucker felt like he was starving! He had nothing to eat, so he just curled up more and beat off faster. The extra meat on his chest wobbled against the excess flesh of his upper arms. He felt so loved and so spoiled, and he thought of his father and how he used him whenever he felt like it.
"Uvoo-ah!"
Tucker was always a good son. He would be whatever his parents desired at any given moment. He was ever ready, willing, and able. He was a thankful servant. Without them he would be nothing. He didn't know what starving really meant. He was such an ignorant spoiled pup.
"Uvoo, Adda! Uv uh! Love you..."
He shot his underbelly with his own cum and panted, wheezing through his opened throat - now just getting its strength back to function properly again. He was so thankful for that.