The Dog Next Door
=================

Part 1 - Meeting the Dog Next Door
----------------------------------

Alone at home, you watch your garden outside as you work at your desk.  You live in the countryside, working freelance online, with loose deadlines and work hours which suit you pretty well.  You can usually go outside whenever you want and help out the neighbours as they need it.  For the most part it affords you privacy like few other places could.

It was only a few days ago that the lady next door moved out rather suddenly and her brother temporarily moved in to help her sort and sell the house.  You’d watched the initial quick efforts to pack and send off the majority of the furniture, clothes, and various knick knacks that she had off to wherever she is now.  What the man brought with him though was what drew your attention the most.

As soon as he arrived, the immense canine had been allowed to wander the garden that borders yours.  With no other neighbours it was only you that got to admire the unusually large loyal pet he had brought with him.  So very excited to have an acre or two to run around in, the dog seemed somewhere between a grizzly bear and a wolf.  A body so thick and built with muscle the idea of controlling it on a leash seems a mere suggestion at best.  Yet the colours more resembled a Doberman with sleek black and burnt orange to draw the eye.

There was no doubt as to his sex either.  Pendulous orbs swing between his legs, dark and shiny from the thin coat of fluff.  It’s hard not to think how unnatural they seem, more like something you’ve spotted online than in the flesh - yet there they were.

You catch yourself staring at them, and pull your eyes away.  The more tranquil scene of birds tending your garden should be what you’re focusing on rather than admiring the balls of a canine.  Yet the tranquillity has clearly been disturbed by the local wild feline grooming himself on the table.  No comparison to the majestic wolf-dog, the ginger tom is a terror and had you been paying attention you may have been able to stop him from scaring off the wildlife.

With a sigh you get back to work.  The dog is a marvel but it shouldn’t cost you your livelihood just staring at it.  As much as you still get glimpses of it running up and down having the time of its life.

The hours pass, and there’s only so much you can take in a day, standing up and stretching on a walk around the room, you glance outside to see the canine and tom gone.  No distractions to keep you from taking a bite to eat and contemplating a little walk to take in the last of the sunlight.  But a knock on the door catches you off guard.

A bespectacled man is standing when you open it, surprisingly tall, feeling like he is towering despite being on the somewhat slender side.  You don’t recognise him, but quickly begin connecting the dots.

“Hello, I’m terribly sorry but could I ask a favour of you?”

You stammer out a reply, eyes looking to the panting dog just on the end of his leash staring back.  This close, it is much easier to see just how large he is.  Head up to your chest at least!  His thighs are thicker than your shoulders are wide.   The man turns to look at the dog before returning his attention to you.

“Well yes… you see my sister has asked me to take care of her home and I unfortunately still have to make the odd trip back to the city.  I’d take Buster here with me, but I’d been told you are rather good with animals and may be up for the task of taking care of him.”

You nod, getting your bearings together enough to not appear like you’re gawking too much and give him a more coherent acceptance.  To which he beams and hands over the leash.

“Thank you ever so much, sorry for the short notice but I will already be late.  Feel free to use the house I have left instructions on the kitchen countertop.”

There’s little chance to talk out a reply, he has turned and taken long strides to the car.  Hopping in, giving a wave, and beginning a quick drive away.

You and the dog share a rather intense moment looking into each other’s eyes.  It’s obvious from a glance he wouldn’t do well coming into your home.  The hallways might be wide enough but the furniture is unlikely to survive.  So, with a word and a tug, you leave your house and go over to the other.  With the other residences a street away, there’s just the two of you here.

Heading in, it’s pretty clear the place was also not designed for a canine of his size.   But at least the place has already been emptied of breakables. He shuffles after you through the bare entrance hall with his legs closer together, entering into the living room and being quite happy to go over to his pile of toys in the corner and bring up a football.  The place is pretty bare bones, a sofa and television the only real furnishings other than the large dog bed and crate filled with various toys for the dog to enjoy.

You smile and give him a few scritches around the neck, feeling the power of his muscles behind the simple movements trying to hand off the ball to you.  If he was more intentful, he’d have had you on the floor already.  You take what you are given, thick sticky slobber already coating the orb, step outside the open back double doors, and give it a kick into the distance.  He bolts down, racing after the ball and wrestling it as you check the adjacent room for the instructions.

You watch through the window as he trots back, realising there isn’t going to be a lot of downtime with him this rambunctious but checking for important information.  Food is in the cupboard.  Half a sack for each meal, twice a day, try to feed him around sunrise or sunset.  Avoid letting him lick you, he tends to get overexcited.  Don’t be concerned if he swallows any of his toys, they are safe for him…

Buster pokes his head through the doorway just as you’re making a double take on the instructions.  Half a sack?  Swallowed?  Looking at the beast, his head taking up most of the entryway, you can see why the latter might be a problem.  As he pants the ball rests in his maw, gently held by his front teeth.  Behind him his throat, although obstructed by the arch of his tongue, looks easily big enough to claim that ball without even stretching.

The room starts feeling a lot warmer as the thought of what else could go down that throat fills your mind.

Skimming through the rest of the note it seems mostly about calling him with his name and trying to keep an eye on him when outside.  Just to make sure he doesn’t eat anything he shouldn’t.  You know how dogs should act though, so expect it should be self explanatory.  Leaving the note aside, you return to Buster and accept the soggy ball into open hands, feeling the thick drool slide down your arms.  A good thing these clothes are for comfort.

Carrying the ball to the french doors again, you give it another firm kick into the distance, saliva splattering the lawn and sending him into a charge to go after it.  At least he is easily pleased.

Each time you do it the ball returns slimier and slimier.  Until he doesn’t come back with it at all, and you ruffle a brow.  Trudging out into the garden, he follows you closely, sniffing around in search of the missing orb - or at least so you think.  There is little in the way of hiding spots it could take other than the hedge at the far end so you give a good scout along the edge.

It starts to dawn on you that something is amiss, Buster gives you a nuzzle and you look across to him, watching his trunk of a body.  Did he really?  You give him a few pets before starting to run your hand along his flank, feeling over his ribs, the thick muscle and rhythmic rise and fall from his breath.  Then start getting to his stomach.  Another layer of impenetrable muscle preventing you from really examining, heart fluttering thinking of just how lost that ball is inside if it really did end up there.  How could you possibly know what he’s eaten?  The thought of vanishing inside…

A sudden thud from the house shatters the moment and Buster immediately starts stampeding over.  It takes you a bit longer to calm your shaky hands and start quickly walking over to see what he is licking, giving a command to try and shoo him off.  Thankfully he does, leaving the ginger tom slathered with saliva stunned from his rather graceless fall trying to cross between roofs.  It’s hard not to have a smile of glee after his terrorising of the birds and the general nuisance he’s been.  But that little bit of sadistic pride is overwhelmed by the dick hovering over the cat’s head.

Your jaw drops, the cock is thicker than your arm - quite a lot thicker - and over a foot in length.  Hot red and radiating warmth in the cool air.  You swallow back your amazement, opening your mouth again to order him to stand back too late to prevent him from thrusting forward.  The bulging head of the canine cock scoops the relatively small cat with its gaping cockslit.  A warm slurping noise accompanies, and a gulp clearly claims the front half of the feline, breaking its daze and sending it into a scrabble.

Buster stands proud panting, head held high, legs planted wider and dick bobbing with the weight of the feline.  The underside of his cock bulges slightly from the protests but the thick urethra obscures details.  You want to move to intervene, to get him to stop, but you simply can’t.  Just watching as another thrust throws the feline’s back half up and a gulp sucks in, leaving just the feet and tail tip.  Like a bird would cram down a meal without any hope of chewing.

What feels like an eternity is all but over in mere moments.  Another squelching slurp tugs the remainder of the cat from the outside world and the distinct bulge travels up the rod, through the uninflated knot of dick in one smooth slick motion.  The sheath barely distorts and then he is gone.

You gulp, hot and shivering from the sudden surge of arousal of the sight.  Buster wiggling his hips as the sudden delivery of prey settles in and then begins trotting around panting.  All too happy with himself.  It’s hard to believe you’ve even seen it.  He comes up to lean your way in demand of belly rubs and you can’t help but provide whilst the experience sinks in.

Where did the cat go?

Skin tingling, burning with a need to know, you guide Buster to lay down on his side and allow you access to his jewels.  The sleek black orbs resting like watermelons in a loose fitting scrotum paired up with the relaxing and receding canine cock that is still so obviously sized to match.  A shudder runs through your spine, uttering a word to yourself as your hands feel over each ball trying to make out the feline.

Buster relaxes and pants, not at all upset by this intrusive feeling.  Your hands sinking into the soft sac and being embraced by it.  The short soft fuzz feels silken and the intense heat is all too comforting.  It feels like the most luxurious of blankets and stretchy enough it probably could provide a fair coverage to you too.  The orbs roll freely, no need to tuck up with how heated Buster is.

Then you feel a kick.

His left orb, no obvious distortions when you look.  But under your hand you can feel something shifting inside and nudging the testicle around as it does.  A rising giddiness in your gut starts taking hold.  Sure as anything, the cat squirms and attacks at the walls in attempted defiance at its imprisonment.  Should you do something?  Can you do anything?

You keep feeling and watching as the minutes go by.  Buster relaxes fully, his excitement turning to sleepiness.  His cock sheathing itself.  The creeping cold exposing his balls triggering his scrotum to start tightening and receding.  Giving less opportunity for his prisoner to be noticed in their futile struggles.  At the very least, it seems like he might be alright inside.

How will you explain this?  Would anyone honestly believe a dog managed to stuff an animal down their own cock?  Even pinching yourself it’s pretty clear this is no dream either.

You look up to the setting sun and gulp.  At the very least, you best get him fed in case he has any other tricks.  Standing up and beckoning him onto all fours, you lead him back inside the house, measuring out the food, and keeping him inside to lounge with for the evening.  Giving you more time to keep a feel on that orb and see what happens…

You’re startled when the door opens, causing you to quickly get up and head into the kitchen to wash your hands.  The feline is still fine… the hard part is coming.  Trying to explain the situation.

The man appears in the doorway with his suitcase and watches you with a little bit of concern as you wash up.

“Everything alright?”  He asks, and you instinctively reply with the affirmative, unable to stop yourself.  “Well that’s good, I left you a little thank you in your letterbox.  I’m sorry I can’t stick around, I still have a few calls to make.”

Then just as quickly as he appeared, he disappears to the stairs and shoots up.  You look to Buster through the doorway, seeing him still splayed out where you had left him.  His black sleek balls resting on his inner thigh with no sign of the struggle going on within.  You’re going to have to leave the cat to it though.

Without a word you step out the front door into the bracing cold, sucking in the air and shaking off the strangeness of the evening.  Was this the luckiest find or the unluckiest?  Your mind can’t leave the thought of the cat wiggling within and you nearly trip over the letter on the mat inside your door.

Flicking it open, a few hundred dollars and a note accompany.  “Thank you so much for handling Buster for the evening.  I hope I can call upon you again in future.  Consider this reimbursement for the inconvenience.”

Counting through the notes you swallow and let out a huff of laughter.  Yes, this certainly wouldn’t be the only time you’ll be spending time with Buster.