Waste of a Canine Trial


Written by Septia.


-Aauouurff- Arrrooff- The sleek, black doberman dog barked as he hopped forwards on the pavement, his leash hauling his matte behind him. The owner's arm soon followed by a jostle of her maternal chest and the weighty bound of her fecund, swollen gut lagging behind in the swift motion -Bbwnnngghsh-. Josie caught a hold of her balance and held the dog back by the leash, reigns her abdomen bouncing back into place with a sluggish bounce. “Phew, Roscoe, easy now boy,” she said and adjusted the heart dotted blouse clutching her bosom. Above the next door sat a sign marked: 'D|Oasis|G’. 
	Josie compared it with the map on her phone. “Alright boy, we're here.”


Stepping into the venue, Josie was treated to an impact of pale, sterile porcelain; walls, ceiling, and floor consisting of pale, marble white plates. A razor thin crevice of gray was all that was seperating the room from being a complete, white abyss. 
	“… He… llo? Anybody in this joint?” 
	A voice lifted in a distortion of synthesised tones that sonared from the walls. “Mrs. Watts, First name Josephine?” 
	“It's just Josie, but, yeah. So this's the place you need us for that study?” she called out. 
	With a whirr of machinery the door behind her shut. And in the same motion and tone, one floor plate rose and folded into the shape of a chair, while two other plates in the wall across from it capsised into a prison style bunk cots. 
	“Right, ain't the talkative type. Fine by me, we'll get paid faster, won't be Roscoe?” she said and brushed over the doberman's head, the black dog licking up over her palm. Roscoe leapt up onto the bed, spinning before laying down, taking up half the excuse of a mattress. 
	Josie sat down across, her cheeks enveloping the seat and her 'juicy' print white yoga pants stretched across the back of the chair. 
	“So this's also some kind of eye exam?” 
	The voice buzzed in again. “A series of visual stimuli is to be administered. Subject Josephine Watts, if ready, respond.” 
	“Ye ye I'm here.” 
	A wall tile flipped open, and stretched down on an incline. A screen flashed to life with a field of tv-snow static. The grayscale bars smelted into a landscape of colors, hues bleeding into one another in tessellations of fractals, flowing as oil over a lake. 
	“So I'm just supposed to look at this or…?” Josie said, following a patch of yellow with her vision. Then a bustle of teal, then magenta… Then yellow again… Josie's eyes flowed in the same manner as the colors, directed hither and dither, soon her agency superseded, as if the pattern deciding where she looked. 
	“H-hold on… this ain't. … what's happening?” she asked to deaf ears. Pupils swaying with the flow of accents and compliments: confined in a cornucopia of chroma, her vision blurred in the wavering lights. Once the world returned into focus, the silhouettes merged together over a bundle of black, white and khaki-tangerine. “Roscoe…?” she mumbled, light-headed, but calmed by the familiar look of her dear pup on the bed. Sitting with his stump of a tail wagging up and down with the curl of a proboscis. Sitting with his rear facing her… a point where, all the sleek, glossy black fur parted for an oasis of pale walnut fluff, shaped in a… rounded elliptic triangle divoting gently towards its nadir, a pinch of leathery plush flesh in the dog's crack… 
	“Oh… You're… Looking real good today, Roscoe.” Josie shuffled out of the chair, towards the bed, towards her hound's hind… that big patch of brighter fur… had it… always looked like it was, the perfect fit for her face? That would be silly, she thought. Walk turning to a crawl, her head right in line with the cot-elevated canine's rear. “Gotta… try…” she mumbled, letting her body tilt forward, her face slumping. The closer she came, the smell of portentous musk, the air of cutting into the fresh wood of a red bark and feeling the sap mix with the tinge of dark, sea salt chocolate. Slumped up between the pillowy mounds of fluffy pooch pound cakes -Bbtffftwp-.
	“Hyyool?” Roscoe mouthed, feeling his owner's touch on his rear … though she slotted into the cheeks so well… matte. Josie felt a quiver from her nose back through her spine, the plush velvety surface of floof cushioning her face, and the exuding mellow tart musk seeped from the hound right into her face. 
	“Mmf oo… Roscoe,” she huffed out, feeling her excited breath weave through his fur, their scents mixing. She felt the zenith of her nose brushed right above the undulating pucker. The brim contracted -Cllffth- Then blossomed open in a wave of smog -Bbbrrllpgpththtshpah- the bubbling cloud oozing over Josie's countenance, bathing her senses in a rich tang of pickled cocoa beans and the taboo ooze of undiluted gasoline. 
	“Ho-hoaosa Ro-roscoe…” she wheezed out, the fur forming a welcoming oasis in the fields of glossy jet black. She mumbled out amidst inhaling every speck of air wafting around her, pupils rolling so they rested just above his buns when she leaned back, then delved back in, grinding, marinating her face into the embrace of plush poochie pillows to bask in the fermented flatulence. -PPPfhhrrbrbhpthw- -Bbrrrhhhtptsh- Thrusts of constipated smog puffing over her face, seeping the stink of bowel cultivated chocolate truffles to soothen the woman. 
	“Mmfm mama, y-you sm-smell s-so g-good to-toaday b-bo. Fmm g-good boy…” Josie mumbled as she loafed her face deeper into the cheeks, her lips trembling in the breeze of fumes, tongue lolling out in an exhaustion of satisfaction, planting her moist tongue against the oscillating pucker of dog leather, swabbing him with oodles of saliva. Tongue nestling its way into every crevice it could, matching Josie's face, nudging in tighter and budging taught against he outline of fluffy fur that cradled her face and brushed the edges of the slick, black fur over her ears and curling pigtail locks. -Bbrrfffhpt- A moist gust of dampened rolled jerky pudding whistled through the cheeks. 
	“Mm, Roscoe,” Josie mumbled and reached up with both palms over her dog's hind, brushing and patting down the silken smooth fur. “Matte wants mone…mM, b-be a good boy, mfsm,” she mumbled as she milled her face against he soft patch of fur, against the slicked, puckered hole she suckled on between sentences. 
	“Mm Mmmm, let, matte in…” she moaned out. A bassy gurgle of gas vented through -Bbfrllgpgsuah-Thwhgsh- splurged in as Josie dunked her head again the brim. The pucker cracked in a stretch of leather lubricated by a hussie's drool, engorging to envelop her face, framing her in the doberman's rectum. “Mm y-yhees,” she wheezed out, the musk percolating and condensing with the roaming swaths of flatulence to steam her face with the foemented aroma of lard cured bonbons. 
	Her grip on his soft flank was firm, and the flustered lady hoisted her head up into the rear. Her dark brown unbraided pigtails sweeping down along her face as it she fed herself to the swelling pit, sweeping down her cheeks and slotting over her neck with the squelch of a cork ripped out of a bottle, lubricated by a slut's spit -Chlltjllhooofp-. 
	“Mmfmaohaa,” she wheezed inside the convulsing colon clamming and cradling her countenance , funnelling her deeper as she wiggled her shoulders through the sunken canyon of dog meat. 


“Status?” A dark figure asked another to the right, both shrouded in darkness, residual light cast upon them from the one way screen into the chamber. 
	“Canine Subject exceeds predicted median of its weight class, though on account of subject Josephine's stature, results are inconclusive.” 
	The left observer turned back to witness proceedings. “Shant remain inconclusive for long.” 


Josie felt the pucker crawling over the bredth of her bust -Chhrlpth-, squeezing in a gnawing motion down her chest to tug them into the bowels -Chhrllgbtpthagh- compiling down past her rib cage as she wormed her way though the ruffled tunnel of tissue. 
	Roscoe's rear rammed against Josie's tummy -Thbbnpaghas- a shock wave of a jostle spread across the rich dusky skin. The Doberman wheezed, tongue hanging out his jaw, peering back, seeing his matte's arms pinned to her sides, squirming beside that mountain of a belly.
	“Hwwwng…” he whined, ears slackened, his abdomen burgeoning with the squirms of his matte. The dog contemplated, with big shiny eyes. -Bbfrrprwpth- A flutter of greasy gas filtering out in a drumming of pucker against gut, sending quivers through Josie and Roscoe alike. Roscoe shuddering, and housing himself off the bed, as his owner crawled after him, his weight pinning down over the gut. gradually the pucker scooped up a hold of the tummy, pinching the gut as she sloped down from the bend, with a squealing crinkle of colon fluids smattering leather skin as his pucker engulfed the dome of a midriff. 
	Josie felt herself funnelling deeper, deeper, sweating in the humid wafts of musty body heat. A part of her that knew what she was doing, knew she was condemning herself to the melting forge of he pet's fudge factory… but the sheer trance of satisfaction smothered these notions – like burying a poorhouse in a truckload of caviar. Her nostrils flared as she engorged her lungs on the pungent atmosphere. 
	Funnelled deeper into the incarnadine depths of massaging meat. 
	-Hllcfrrlpth- Roscoe's pucker pressed down over his owner's hind, accordioning the pants off of her cheeks, the 'juicy' pants crumpled in folds as they peeled off her hind, only to be enveloped in the peel of his bowels. The dog's gut bloating ahead of him as he slumped down the mattress, sagging like a sack full of cookie dough with the vague outline of Josie worming her way inside -Shlrpth-. -Sljhprh- -Chhrlrptutslap- His cheeks cycled up on her knees as Josie folded up her legs in his gaping pucker, the brim clamping tight, squeezing past calves and wriggling feet -Chhsrllrprhpth- and the chute shut with a bloated, reverberating pinch of blubber -Chrlpghthtahp- Sealing shut over the soles of her shoes, a few small gulps and chugs of the rear showing the flat soles sinking into his depths. 
	“Phha pahoah hahaal,” Roscoe huffed, tongue drooping low, hind legs displaced, pushed aside by the ballooning midsection nestled beneath him, front legs shuffling back on the ground -Gllgpgugnsah- and squeezing the mound to fold up around his legs like an oil-filled beanbag. Roscoe pancaked his belly to he floor, bulldozing the squirming, moaning mound of the woman in his bowels. 
	“Mmgng mwmpgnaogh-” 


“Procedures are converging at expected rates…,” the left observer noted. 
	The right stared, mesmerized. “Look at them go…” 
	“Sure is one portly puppy. We could expect near 80 kg of dog dung once she's passed digestive processing.” 
	“Pshh…” The other observer scoffed, “considering the portly stature of our subject, did you see how much padding she was packing? I would approximate the excrement yield increased by a factor of 1.784625.” 
	“… 1.56 at most,” the left observer estimated.
	“This is noted.” 


~ 1 ~


Josie panted, breath filling her lungs and stomach with a cyclone of vapors, feeling her body simmering in the furnace of her dog's bakery. Mists soaked in fermented cocoa flower blooming with petals of concentrated tartness. She felt her sweat drizzle down her body, soaking her belly, melding in with the enzymes stewing her form. Fluids siphoned around her form out into the chyme of the gut, congealing her to sink back to congest the canine's colon, The hot muscles steamrolling over her as she soaked in the soggy gales exuding from every pore around her. The rocking motions of her dear, loyal hound outside cradling her into a realm of comfort, soothing any survival instinct still nagging at the back of her mind, the stress pelting through Josie's skin, replaced with the dew of distilled gut phlegm and boiled chocolate bonbons in licorice liquor. It allowed Josie's mind to wander, soaring on clouds of oozing guttural gas, whisking through her intoxicated mind. 
	“Mfs, gwho-ss-such a g-good boy,” she mumbled in a haze. The heat frying through her, injecting through her dermis. Her meat macerated in the wine of musk and stench. The smog making her infatuated as the gut bore down on her with more bulk in its milling kneads. Her body soaking in humidity and flavour like a sponge, filling her in the bolstering heat, inflating her. Josie’s mind wavering, drifting like her, in a pool of liquor distilled from truffles matured in a swamp… A smile plastered on her face as every cent of her body drank in the moisture, only to gradually bake, and drain, towards a compacting clog of puppy putty. 


Bloats bore up along the swollen jet black gut, sailing to and fro, sinking back down under the pelt in a squirm of displaced gruel -Chghrlpgah-. “Did you confirm the canine's sex?” 
	“It was reported as male.” The other observer gestured. To the hind, nestled between drooping, broad jewels and the twitching hind, laid apussy, drooling as Roscoe rested on his side. 
	“Peculiar.”


Josie's lungs rocked with the enzyme rich atmosphere fermenting through Roscoe's belly. The heat coursed through her frame and vented out in huge puffs of air, drenched in the scent of fudge pickled meat. She panted as each breath percolated down her gullet. Dense moisture meldied in with her tissue under the heat of the doggy-oven enveloping her. Each breath that she gorged herself with. weighing her down further, condensing out past her lungs and through her belly, through her entire being. She heard the tension of her musculature englutting, with a trill of disturbed rubber accentuating her brawn and skin plied broad -Bbwnnngngns-. 
	“Mmmf… g-good bohy, s-so much,” she mumbled, feeling her form strain, then settle smooth and plush, before it swelled again. In the darkness of her canine companion's gut sight was limited, barely making out the shadow play of her frame engorging. But what she could not see, she could feel… she felt her belly bump against his stomach lining, she felt it steamroll into every fold and groove of the gut's musculature as it swelled -Bwnnghs- -Chllrpsh-. She nursed on the the succulent atmosphere of gut and incorporated it into herself. Her thighs plumpend, grinding into themselves and milling against the drooling, acid sodden chamber. Her body morphed to fill in the ullage of the stomach –  the empty space shrinking steadily. She was drawn outwards as a malleable taffy in its quest to feed this vacuum between their bodies, the ullage of the gut was no more. 
	“Mmfa mmpgaha. Hammmff, mmgss, y-yees,” she wheezed, grinding and scrubbing herself to Roscoe's form. She was sweating the same lukewarm smog that stuffed her in the succulent flavored warmth of her pup's admiration. Josie wheezed, grunting whilst she swabbed her lap to the walls, grinding her snatch into the velvet folds of succulent flesh. 


“I know our current subject was quite a chubby skank, though I cannot recall her breaching, quite these dimensions,” the left observer mumbled 
	Roscoe laid on his side in the chamber, stomach sprawling out of him as a portly barrel of blubber, drooping like a dewdrop but en massed into a corpulent sac surpassing his own height. A line of pale tangerine fur crossing with his glossy coal pelt gave definition to the pigged out dough ball of a gut – from the right angle, the doberman carried the look of a shoat or a piglet, spooning against its mommy sow's tummy. The inflated stomach jostled, gently, back and forth, scuffing against the ground as it jiggled like a pudding left atop a washing machine. 
	Roscoe murred and barked out soft huffs, grinding his flicking his lap up to the swollen mountain of gut, massaging his sheathe to it as his joystick peeked through the sleeve of fur, humping into the soft balloon of matte stuffed blubber. 


“Stomach's capacity is surpassing its limits, readings indicating a recursive refinement of gaseous mass,” they looked up and adjusted their glasses, “this lady's got enough surplus adipose tissue to overclock the cur's guts with her smog.” 
	“In my opinion it is a shock in itself that the canine had enough capacity to house this fat bitch, but this is ridiculous. There is no definition left across the abdominal region. You certain we didn't just shove a balloon of lard in the canine subject?” 
	The right observer shook their head. “Consider the outline with more care,” they said and pointed with her stylus. Along Roscoe's lower abdomen, the spherical bloat domed outwards, a gentle raise in elevation doming the lower pale pelt out to a mammoth mound. “You can still observe the subject's protruding abdomen, it being such a defined feature of her gives credit to why we can still observe it, despite her fat ass being steam broiled to doggie chow.” 
	The left observer turned back to the consider this. “And here I thought she was a blimp before. She's seemingly nothing but hot air.” 


“Mmmgpghaaamfmmsf pahhaa… hooaa…” Josie wheezed, saliva flushing past her teeth in sprawling filaments. A rush of pleasure still casting through her birth canal. She quivered, panted, the air she inhaled uniform with the temperature throughout her form. In the throes of pleasure, she felt the walls hug into her expanded airballoon of a body, and compressing. 
	Kneading strokes and grinds of muscular meat worked down her skin. Josie panted, groaned, her nerves sedated in a viral rush of satisfaction, but through it all she could feel herself… deflate. Her contours hugged down and worked together by the canine's stomach. She caught glances of her skin: the texture of her body thoroughly damp, slimy, as it stewed in the rhythmic churns and grind. Her the scent, curing, cultivating into a potent serum of cocoa pods fermenting in the brine of a sub-ocenaic cavern.  A salted, juicy pungency, as Roscoe baked her into a clog of puppy pudding slag. 
	“Mmf, mapgha. Mrllg…” she mouthed out wheeze and huffs, as she relinquished the atmosphere that had inflated her, hissing as  the air returned to whom it belonged.


-BBbrrprppffgfggrbbbprrrt- A thick cloud of smog passed through the drumming cheeks of blubber clamped over Roscoe's cheeks -Bbwbrrllfpfhhttptpsltplsth-. The air slathered in a greasy tang of overdue pastries reeking with a yeast carrying a full-bodied alcoholic undertone. Farts bubbled through the dog, and the stomach rippled and rumbled in turn, deflating from its ballooning girth to hug over a smoother bale of an obstruction. 
	“Surplus gaseous remnants ventilating through the subject at an expected rate, abdominal tension approaching expected bounderies,” the right observer noted. 
	“Times like these I come to appreciate the test chamber being insulated, Josephine's own insulation ought to be rendered down to quite the putrid vapours.” 
	“Seems our quadruped subject is quite content stewing i the smog of his portly owner's bowel burned fat.”
	“Considering her heft of undiluted adipose tissue, I was entertaining the possibility they would burst.” 
	“Which would have been a considerably more daunting mess to sanitize.” 
	“I would not be so sure, a tubby like that is bound to leave quest the detritus in either case, especially considering the apparent bulk still coagulating in the canine's gastrointestinal tract.” The observers both made notes of this, letting the canine rest as his abdomen diminished past Josie's stature, with only a smooth chunky bloat left baking through his barrel, thick, sludgy, and fat. 
	“That'll be one fat load of muck, ” the left observer mumbled, whilst jotting down variables and notes with their free hand.
	The right observer then added “A veritable bakery of a mess to mop up once's the experiments reaches its conclusion. Approximately 142kg.”
	“Come now, she's a tub of lard, but that's pushing it.”


~ 2 ~


Roscoe panted and huffed as he stood above his matte's white saggy pants. His abdomen contracted to just brush gently against the inside of his legs as he stood, the doberman arching his head up in a faint cry of a howl. His gut growled -Chrllgpgh- the front of his barrel cconcaving, skin tightening around the doughy dune of a engorged gut. A grumble of stirring fudge with an oar shuffled through the canine -Chflflngthth- -Cflfpghth- as the bulk barged its way to his hind. The black pelt shifting to the fluffy, khaki of his hind fur. Then his pucker gaped with the slough of a parade of slugs -Chhrlrlpftuhthgh- foraging past the brim to unveil a patch marrying the black and khaki hues together: a deep, rich chocolate umber. The muck stretched the brim wide as a medicine ball before the loaf of baked Josie dough languid through his hind. The bale decorated in smooth fissures of coffee bronze, forming a crude parody of the surrounding venue with its polished plates and black grooves. Thought the mound had just an hour ago been a full-grown woman, baked into batter and polished by a trek through lubricated doggy bowels. 
	-Chhrrlpghtsh- The putter damp sludge creeping past the pucker echoed out as the load arched down the doberman, hovering above the opening of the white pants, the two clues of his former owner’s presence uniting, as the mound sloughed into the open fabric -Chhththflpguughs-. The mound of bowel baked dog cookie dough paté thumped against the soft inner lining of the pants, the obelisk of fudge drooping down under its own weight, folding into the trousers in a chubby coil -Chrlrlpgghs- -Cllthhwdwp-. A gale of flatulence fanned through -Fbbrprpflflflpths- flecking auburn stains of the tainted colon juices, spanning down form the mound in tethers webbing it to the floor and fabrics, basking the moulding muck in the reeking fumes of broiled chocolate truffles as the muck stowed into the pants to the tune of dispensing a truck load of coagulated caviar -Chhjkrluutggllsshahj- -Kghgllprghh-. A chunk of white protruding here and there in the mound, skeletal tissue partially melted, forgotten and sealed under layers of sloughing dung.
	Roscoe's abdomen steadily deflated as the trunk of Josie paté plodded through his rear, his abdomen bulldozing the bulk of bile through this bowels at a crawl, skin smoothening over modest rolls of blubber as the mire mortared out his hind. Embedded in the various nook and clefts in the trenches of the muck sprouting through the bale, laid glimpses of shining metal, piercings and jewelry buffered and slathered in sludge like little veins of precious ore in damp, brown caverns. The thick batter plowing in through the pants, the backing grime falling from on high and cramming the gruel deeper. Fudge overlapped with itself in weighty droves to muddy any trace in a mudslide of mummified caviar. 
	Slowly the oozing, steaming bales were clogging up the white pants, sloughing its way through their legs and inflating the rear to simulate Josie's once magnificent, generous hips. The folded fabrics spanning taut, matted in patches of umber from the dew drooling down the bales, as it swelled to fill out the phantom-buns with fresh, chubby Josie loaves. -Chgllprghhs- -Gllrpghhsah- Wefts of thread tightened under the clog of puppy pitch plumbing into the pants. The black letters spelling out 'juicy' once again visible over the expanded mounds of doggy deluge steaming up over the hem and sloughing outside it in curling bales and coils of ripe colon chocolate -Cghrlrlpvshhstsh-.
	Roscoe panting and huffing as a shudder ruffled down from his head all the way to his tail, as the mulch drooped free, sagging into the throne of its own bulk below with a clap of caviar churned into a butter -Thgllgospghs-. 


The right observer nodded, reading on the screen. “142.77 kilograms. My estimations were correct.”
	“Well,” the other observer mumbled, “in my defence, I find myself impressed by the amount of waste one single woman would amount to.” 
	“She did, and its olfactory readings are off the charts.” 
	“We weren't measuring for that?” 
	“I can smell it through the wall.” 
	The first observer sniffed. “Phoa… point taken.” 


Roscoe sniffed the muck filled pants, ears slumped against his sides. “Mmrrf,” he whined. 
	A door opened. He turned. His tail wagging, with nose high in the air he followed a scent, strutting through the room. The silhouette waved a doggy treat right at nibbling height. Roscoe accepted the offering, munching as he felt a palm graciously pat down his back. He was lead in through the door. Shutting behind them. 


~ 3 ~


Outside, the sign above the door retracted back into the building, replaced with a logo printed as 'Woolbuu'. With a series of mechanical whirs and vents of pistons. The façade shifted, and rolled back on thick rubber tires: backing out over the pavement, onto the street, and driving away as an inconspicuous semi-truck, leaving an empty alleyway in its wake.