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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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Spot the Wonder Mutt
by Kevin E. Wagner (1994)
***
Spot, the Wonder Mutt, shrugs his fluffy shoulders, and
does so, lifting his leg and relieving himself where he
stands - which just happens to be on the face of the
unconscious man on the floor. (MF, beast, humor)
***
Spot, the Wonder Mutt, lopes through the master bedroom;
hot on his trail is an angry human wielding a rolled up
newspaper, screaming its fool head off and pointing to a
messy glop of gooey brown lumps on the spotless white
carpet.
Just as Spot is cornered, whimpering noisily, between
the bed and the wall, and the disgusted typical couch
potato male with greasy shirt and paint-splattered jeans
swings the sizeable newspaper down on the poor dog's
nose, all action ceases; a drop-dead gorgeous model in a
tight pink mini-dress, large boobs, and no personality,
calmly walks in with a meticulously groomed French
Poodle carrying a roll of miniaturized toilet- paper
with ribbon-wrapped bone designs in its teeth; an air of
superiority reeks on both the high-class woman and the
pedigree pooch.
"Sophisticated, well-trained dogs use AKC Canine Wipes
to protect from those disgusting, unsightly accidents,"
the bleach blonde cover girl declares to the camera, a
haughty expression on her face, her hands on her hips,
and her chest jutting forward arrogantly. Fifi, the
poodle, smirks at the camera, obviously indifferent to
these lower-class peons she's forced to endure this
commercial with, and sits down daintily at her mistress'
feet.
Real dogs don't give a shit, lady. Spot mutters,
cackling wolfishly at his own stupid joke.
Roger Bartlett, lower middle class unemployed slob,
stares at the woman and the poodle, uncomprehendingly
uncertain on how these two goddess-like beings so
casually strolled into his rather scrungy, thrashed
master bedroom with unmade bed and dirty underwear
sprawled about in that professionally inept and untidy
manner so common to the masculine gender; and does the
smart, cowardly thing - he faints, falling face first
against the wall, cracking his nose into the plaster,
causing a thin rivulet of blood to trickle down to his
upper lip, sliding eventually to the floor almost
soundlessly, the jangle of assorted keys and coins
interrupting the silence as they slide from the pockets
of the inert man.
( * Ouch, that had to hurt! * ) O o . erupts in cartoon-
like balloonish thought above the shaggy head of Spot,
the Wonder Mutt, immediately springing into action
against these two unwelcome intruders. The midsized
multi-colored beast pounces on the startled French
Poodle and devours her in one messy, blood-squirting,
bone-crushing gulp.
As soon as Spot's throat propels the last lagging leg of
the hapless pedigree into his bulging stomach, he
springs towards the terrified bitch (the model, not the
poodle), knocking her onto the bed face down, bent in
half at the waist, legs spread wide and her slinky mini-
dress now hiked up onto her waist, exposing her
exquisitely round, perfect bare ass to the world, the
viewers, and God.
Spot, unable to pass up this picture-perfect scenario,
sticks his wet nose between her legs, and gooses the
woman's crotch, making her jump slightly. Cheryl
LaCreem, fashion model extraordinaire, AKC spokeswoman,
and owner of a really putrid stage name, flutters
slightly on the bed, reacting only marginally to these
most recent events which have overthrown her beliefs in
all that is right and proper in this world, instead
showing her that life just ain't explicitly about
expensive foreign sports cars; luxury yachts; and quiet
nights spent in her Greenwich Village loft inhaling
Breyer's French Vanilla ice cream and having passionate,
orgasmic escapades with Morgie, her oversized, very
well-endowed, anatomically correct, yet extremely fluffy
and soft midnight blue, 9.6 volt battery powered teddy
bear, which by some weird coincidence, was also machine
washable, hold the starch.
Deciding that the model just wasn't about to leap up and
runaway screaming like most silly females he's ever run
into in his long tenure as an ill-behaved, un-
housebroken 'Worst of Wurst County's Animal Shelter' (3
years running) creature, human and canine alike, Spot
further explores the untamed, hairless patch between her
legs, delving his long, rough purple tongue between the
labial lips, constantly flicking the puffy pinkish lobes
about as if they were monarch butterflies playing tag in
a hurricane.
Interesting flavor, the mutt admits, and shrugs his
furry shoulders, propelling his triangular, black
splotched muzzle further into her crotch, drinking up
more of the unusual-tasting liquid trickling from the
slightly gaping hole near the middle; and he is soon
flailing his tongue hungrily into her as he finally
realizes that he hasn't had any water in quite a long
time.
Typical uncaring homosapiens! wanders through his mind,
but is promptly lost in the myriad of thoughts rampaging
through his doggy brain: the last of the great yellow
fire hydrants; that stupid, yet utterly vicious pitbull
terrier on the corner of 4th and Broadway; his favorite
rawhide bone; that screaming yellow fire hydrant; his
first taste of cheap American beer from his last master;
watching Pluto make an ass out of Donald Duck; ohhh,
that fire hydrant, ohhh my...
A muffled moan expels those delicious daydreams from his
mind, and his sensitive ears alerts him to the soft
whimpers issuing from the semi-conscious female under
him. Through all this time, his tongue never stops that
continuous lapping, slurping her sweet juices as it runs
down her now-soaked crotch, nearly mechanically.
Spot raises his head, as if to yawn, and his huge,
floppy tongue makes contact with her clitoris, albeit
innocently, eliciting a piercing cry of pleasure to
explode from Cheryl's lips. "Ohh god yeeessss, Morgie,
do me!" she cries, lost in a fantasy world of her own,
bucking her pelvis against the dumbfounded canine's
face."Lick my clitty like only you know how... ummmmm
yyyeaahhh!"
The dog growls, baring his teeth, unwittingly grazing
them across her joy button and sending her into a
tumultuous, exceedingly sensuous orgasm, spiralling up
into the heavens, in an eruption of fracturing prisms
across the spectrum of visible and ultraviolet light, as
if a deluxe box of Crayola crayons exploded and rained
down multicolored taffyish wax throughout her entire
world.
Her once inert form heaves and quivers, her limbs
jerking this way and that involuntarily, her breath
coming out in harsh, quavering gasps, and her come
spilling from her snatch, drenching the amazed animal
with that sticky-sweet juice that he laps up frantically
else he drown from the onslaught.
After extensive, prolonged, noisy slurping, Spot pauses,
his enormous tongue lolling out the side of his mouth,
not only to catch his breath but also to decipher the
event he's been a not-quite-willing participant in. The
thoughts die, however, as he reaches down to nip an
errant flea from his bluish grey coat, and then gives
his furry penis the once over with his tired tongue,
cleaning it and generally just making him feel warm and
fuzzy all over.
Acting primarily on instinct, and admittedly quite a bit
of horniness, Spot leaps up onto the prone woman, and
rests his massive paws on her upper back, placing
himself in just the right position for his next trick.
Wriggling his fuzzy butt from side to side, he finds the
entrance and thrusts forward roughly, spearing her with
his non-pedigree pooch penis which, once flaccid, soon
expands into a gigantic shaft that even the mighty
Cerebrus would be envious of. Slamming his rigid member
deep inside her, Spot rides Cheryl roughly, his
immediate surroundings fading to black as he focuses
only on this mounting excitement pulsing through his
loins.
Cheryl, slumbering fitfully in a post-orgasmic haze,
awakens with a start, shrieking in a mixture of
delirious arousal laced with a tinge of pain as the
fleshy, furry lance grinds deep inside her womb.
She moans brokenly, thoroughly excited by this
unexpected intrusion into the furthest reaches of her
overstretched snatch. "Fuck meee, Morgiiieee, harder
ummmm yessss ohhhh mmmmmphmmm," her words lost in the
ecstasy she's found herself in, matching the rapid
thrusting of the nearly rabid dog behind her, blissfully
unaware of the froth bubbling down his muzzle and
splattering on her flawless backside while he pumps his
mammoth mongrel meat as far inside her as he can
possibly manage.
A shrill squeal of pure, undiluted rapture, caught in
her throat for a mere moment, explodes into the still
night air, easily overcoming the squelching and slurping
noises of their combined lovemaking, not to mention all
other sounds for three city blocks, shattering windows
and enticing every car alarm in the neighborhood to add
to the destructive dissonance.
Cheryl claws at the filthy comforter that's sprawled on
the bed, her long but utterly fake fingernails snapping
off against the rough, uneven surface of the mattress,
and her huge breasts with their stiff, extremely
sensitive nipples rubbing painfully back and forth into
the bed, her wicked gyrations plunging the two lovers
ever further into the abyss of orgasmic ecstasy.
Neither of them speak: one for obvious reasons, the
other because words cannot define this euphoric state
she finds herself in, vaginal muscles clenching the
shaft tightly inside her and massaging it towards that
final expression of fulfilled love and desire.
Spot whines crazily, never in his short life has he
experienced such blind arousal and intense delight;
unable to hold out much longer, he thrusts haphazardly,
slamming himself into her - harder and faster and
rougher than he believed possible; his untrimmed nails
scratching long, deep furrows along her spine, and the
typical ever-present strand of doggy drool hangs from
his face, flapping back and forth as his massive head
swings from side to side.
Spot, the Wonder Mutt, howls in the throes of passion,
Cheryl adding to the canine cacophony with her own
excited yelps, as they reach their individual climaxes
at the same time, yet join together as one voice, their
bodies overwhelmed by this erotic furnace that ruptures
from within each of them, and the two species are as one
for this brief interlude, before finally falling back,
exhausted... and separate.
Time passes quickly, as the two lovers recuperate, the
human female dozing peacefully and the canine male
gathering his strength for his next important mission.
The cold, wet tongue of Spot, tickling her nose, slowly
bring her back to consciousness, and she sits up slowly,
stretching and twisting to further bring her back to
reality. "Mmmm, thank you, Morgie, that was..." is all
she's able to say, opening her eyes to look lovingly
into the unblinking black marble orbs of what she
assumes to be her faithful teddy bear, and stares in
unmitigated shock as the grey-green eyes of the Wonder
Mutt's gaze.
Cheryl quickly glances around the room, the surroundings
familiar yet not quite, as her darling, sweet, loveable
bear is nowhere in evidence, and only this ragged,
pathetic looking mutt, and some slob with a bloody nose
passed out on the rug in attendance. She shifts a bit,
the throbbing soreness from her recent sexual escapade
coming back to her all at once. A hoarse, uncertain
scream bubbles from her lips as she finally realizes the
events of the day, and what actually happened, "OH MY
FUCKING GOD!"
Unfortunately for the frazzled fashion model, it only
comes out as a harsh whisper, her voice lacking any of
the true power she's famous for in her tantrums. She
looks at the dog, and he stares up at her, soulful eyes
pleading, pleading for some mercy, scared shitless at
the show of anger in her every expression.
Somehow, sensing the trembling animal's unease and
obvious panic, she releases the tension in the air,
taking a deep lungful of oxygen and expelling it slowly,
until all the built-up fury withdraws from her body and
soul.
Finally calm inside and out, she inspects her most
recent lover, taking in the white muzzle speckled with
black spots, his grey head and throat, and the blue-grey
tone of the rest of his body - except for that one black
patch on his right hind leg that resembles a leg warmer.
Licking her lips, she also stops to glance at the
glistening, hirsute penis that juts up at her.
Unable or unwilling to forget that delicious feeling of
being completely filled, she grins at the dog, and pulls
it closely to her chest, embracing the startled pooch in
a bear-hug of epic proportions that nearly, but not
quite, matches her bra size.
"How would you like to come home with me, you gorgeous
mongrel? I'll feed you, and give you a great home. Not
to mention, I won't have to spend a fortune on those
stupid battery packs. What do you say to that, baby?"
Spot, the Wonder Mutt, jumps to his feet and bounces
around her, jiggling the bed as if it were a pool full
of lime green jello, licking her face sloppily. He tilts
his great big fuzzy head at her, and opens his mouth
wide, barking loudly. I have to pee.
"I knew you'd love it, Spot! Oh god, I've not been so
happy in a long, long time!"The dog continues to bark;
sharp, quick yelps that echo across the room, nearly
drowning Cheryl out when she asks, "Isn't this just
fabulous?"
Spot, the now-loved Wonder Mutt, replies in his normal,
loud fashion, I really, really have to pee. Cheryl grins
at her new-found playmate scampering across the room,
and nods her head at him.
Spot, the Wonder Mutt, shrugs his fluffy shoulders, and
does so, lifting his leg and relieving himself where he
stands - which just happens to be on the face of the
unconscious man on the floor, who wakes up when the
first streams of yellow liquid spurt downwards, also
splashing into the poor man's mouth as he opens it to
scream a protest. Sickened and horrified, Roger Bartlett
faints once more, his head smacking the floor with an
obviously hollow thump, urine still splattering like
rain upon the makeshift fire hydrant.
Ahhhh... I'm in love, the dog mutters to himself, and
trots back to the bed.
END
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 68