Initiation
Initiation
By Bachalon
Mold dripped down the walls in thin tendrils. The ceiling sagged in odd places; water slowly filtered through discolorations. The floor was broken and splintered in some places. The air had a tang of dead fish and rotten food.
Oliver noticed all these things, distinct and unfamiliar surrounds, as he lay on the floor, turned up. His tail curled around his buttocks. When it twitched nervously he left a swathe of spotless floor in a tight arc. The striations in the wood could be seen again.
Dodger had a paw firmly on his lower abdomen. His fingers were spread through the fur. Orange on white, the tips looked like small tongues of flame. The pressure on his stomach wasn't uncomfortable; in an odd way it felt good. It was a new sensation, but his discomfort lay in him being vulnerable. He hadn't known Dodger too long, but he'd told the cat that all of the gang had gone through something similar.
"Relax, kiddo. It won't hurt. Who knows? You might even like it."
He'd been hesitant. He didn't move when Dodger told him to lie down. He'd stood and stared at the dog, his blue eyes large and unsure. When he hadn't moved, Dodger ambled over and put one paw on his side. He started to push down gently. Oliver submitted.
The kitten was down in a crouch; it almost looked like he was preparing to pounce. His elbows were up near his head. His back legs were bent at an acute angle. He was looking at Dodger.
He flashed a grin, the white of his teeth contrasting sharply with the earthy brown of his muzzle and the dark black of his nose. It made his face look wider than it was. For some odd reason, Oliver couldn't pull his eyes away from the bandana. He'd noticed the knot at the base of Dodger's throat and thought, not for the first time, how it seemed to move like his balls. It wasn't as animated in its motions, but it was the same vague shape and swung in the same way.
The gaudy red held him.
Dodger was off to his left. It wasn't sudden, but startled him nonetheless. He reached down, and flipped Oliver onto his side.
He was stretched out. His front legs were perpendicular to his chest; his back legs were extended fully, the left crossed over the right.
Dodger raised an eyebrow at him.
He bent down and started sniffing.
Oliver giggled as he felt his breath splash across the top of his head. His nose was cold. The quick exhalations tickled. He giggled. Dodger stopped and looked at him, another toothy grin pasted on his face. He continued sniffing, moving slowly down the length of Oliver's body. He shut his eyes and purred when Dodger stuck his nose near his throat, where the neck met his chest, just before his ribs.
Dodger moved across his chest quicker, his snuffling disturbed the fur in odd patterns. It felt good. He nuzzled here and there to get a better grip on a scent. He shoved his head up in Oliver's armpit.
He turned onto his back. The dog continued sniffing. His nose rubbed against Oliver's stomach. He fancied he could his organs compressing in the places he dug his nose into deeper.
Oliver giggled louder.
He reached his pelvis. He rooted around in the longer fur for a few moments. Then moved down.
Dodger put his nose between Oliver's playfully parted legs.
Oliver's eyes snapped open; they had closed over a minute ago. His eyes opened and a leg kicked up, claws extended, and landed against Dodger's cheek. One of the claws was dangerously near his eye.
They stared at each other.
Dodger backed away and Oliver returned to his side, still staring.
"What are you doing?"
"Just getting to know you."
"Why?"
"You don't know how dogs meet do ya?"
Oliver shook his head, "No."
"Well, I can tell you that it's different than what cats do."
"What do you cats do?"
"Nothin' as far as I know."
"What do dogs do?"
Dodger smiled, "I guess I'll have to show you then, huh?"
With practiced ease he moved forward and pulled Oliver to him.
At that moment, with a paw on his abdomen, and a curious dog leaning over him, Oliver noticed new details about a place he was starting to grow familiar with. He looked down himself at Dodger's downturned face.
It was an awkward view. Small spikes of the short fur on his chest intruded. He could see part of Dodger's nose and the slope of his muzzle as it segued into his face and forehead. The bulge of his chest rose and fell as he breathed.
Dodger bent down further; Oliver jerked up, his hips spasmed: the cold of Dodger's nose made him twitched involuntarily.
Once again, his breath washed over him. Oliver shivered. Dodger's careful probing. He tried to identify each new feeling. The cold was his nose. The warmth was his breath.
But that! That was something new. It was pressure. A warm and wet pressure on his butt, on the rosebud between. He looked down but could only see Dodger's head bobbing slightly. He watched for a few seconds. To Oliver's horror, Dodger looked up and winked at him before resuming his acquaintance. He closed his eyes again.
He wiggled when a sensitive spot was brushed or grazed or prickled. He wanted to reach down and touch himself, but Dodger was doing fine on his own so Oliver was left with nothing to do with his paws. They were at his sides, almost dead. They moved when he did, but it was almost as an afterthought to more pronounced movement.
With a final forceful snort, Dodger sat up, "Nice to meet you."
"Likewise."
He looked down at the kitten, as he lay on his back.
"There's more to it than that you know."
"There is?"
"Uh-huh. Sure, we've met now, but we still ain't friends yet."
He raised his head, "What do you mean?"
Quietly, "Stay there."
Oliver lay his head back on the ground.
Dodger went back to work. Oliver closed his eyes again.
Only to open them again as he gasped and went stiff: he felt Dodger's tongue not only swipe across tender flesh, but plunge deep into him. He gritted his teeth as the dogs tongue writhed wildly inside him.
When Dodger looked up he saw Oliver subvocalizing. He could see the cat's throat moving and his mouth was open. His lips were moving slightly, quickly. It was the reaction that he was looking for. He tried to shove himself in deeper. He placed his paws across his thighs and spread his legs apart for better access. Doing so would part his furry cheeks allowing him to move his muzzle in closer than it already was. It looked as if Dodger were trying to consume him from the bottom up. His upper jaw was resting on his scrotum, the teeth meticulously placed to avoid any pain. His lower jaw drawn down as far as it could go.
Despite any precariousness (with a quick clamp of the jaw, Dodger could render him impotent), it was clear that he was enjoying himself. There was a heavy smirk on his face once more.
Oliver, meanwhile, was thrashing around in Dodger's capable paws. He was squeezing delicately as he kept his ass cheeks open. He twitched whenever Dodger applied pressure to the large muscles. Through a careful grip, he managed to keep his back half in relatively the same place.
Dodger moved from his place, lapping upward. Oliver, noticed the change from the cool breeze that crept across his cheeks, from the spikes of matted fur that appeared on the inside of his thighs as he got closer to the conjunction of his legs.
Dodger was relishing it. The slow progress. He savored each moment as he Oliver was revealed from his narrow view earlier. First were his legs and genitals. Then came the curve of his stomach and the bulge of his chest. Finally, his head. He had his eyes closed. If he'd opened them, Dodger hadn't seen or hadn't been paying attention. He didn't care; his attention was keenly focused elsewhere.
His balls were bobbling up and down to the rapid pace of Dodgers tongue. It was even if rough. He scooped them up completely: his tongue slipped beneath them, where they met the shaft and hoisted them up. When her curved his tongue back, they flopped out of his grip and slapped lightly against his perineum.
Oliver had touched himself before it didn't even come close to what he was feeling now. It was familiar but amplified. It was strange and wonderful to be out of control in the sense that he wasn't doing it himself. It was new and old at once. Dodger in the mean time continued as he was. Oliver's balls were good and wet before he moved on again. That was how he learned to expect something, when the air chilled him he knew that the tongue would land gloriously somewhere new.
It did. Dodger had turned his head to the side at an angle. His tongue was moving at an angle as well. One thin side was brushing up against his small sheath.
He was trying to coax his cock out. Quick enough, he was rewarded when the tip peeked out. He licked at it, letting his tongue brush against it. When his tongue moved up the sheath, more of Oliver emerged. It didn't take much longer before he was fully exposed.
Dodger wondered at his cock. It was different then he would have guessed. It was smaller, thinner. It's shape was more conical; the tip looked sharp. It was the same ruddy color and would perform the same function but it was dissimilar which wasn't entirely off-putting. It was proportioned well for the kittens size, but it was something new. He should have guessed that it would differ. Fagan's (from what he'd seen) had been different.
It didn't matter. He was sure it worked the same way. And he was ready to prove it.
His first lick was ghostly. He barely touched it. Oliver seized; his hips bucked. Dodger's tongue seemed to exude from his lips like the drool that was slowly coating him. He applied fluid motions, running his tongue from the base of Oliver's cock, from where the flesh was buried in fur, to the point. He tapped the tip; he jumped slightly every time.
His licks started to get deeper. He applied more pressure. Any friction that remained was quickly eliminated by his slobbery ministrations. He was watching Oliver carefully, paying attention to each small movement and convulsion. When he got a larger reaction, he doubled his effort in that area. It turned out that Oliver liked slower motions that started as far down as Dodger could muster and got faster as he got to the top.
Though the pattern stayed the same, he moved faster. He started slow, then quickened. Every so often, he stopped to suckle a tiny bit. That had the best effect. Oliver groaned and thrust into his mouth. His cock dribbled precum. Rather than swallowing it, Dodger held it in his mouth and spit it back onto him.
His mouth was smeared with precum and saliva.
Oliver was nearing his climax from the feel of it. When he bucked his cock undulated from the base up and the tip flared.
Dodger wrapped his mouth around him completely, jerking up and down rapidly. Oliver moaned, and his hips rammed up. He came, his cock spitting his cum in violent spurts. Dodger kept his head moving, kept Oliver cumming until he was dry. He felt the cat start to slack in his squirting.
He lifted his head; Oliver's cock was starting to go limp. It flopped out of his mouth.
Oliver had his head leaned back. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. His breathing was starting to normalize. They were lighter but more complete. He sat up, turning onto side. He looked at Dodger who was busy licking his chops. His face looked clean. He hadn't thought they'd made a mess.
Dodger met his eyes, "Great way to make friends, huh?"
"Yeah."
Neither of them spoke for a few seconds.
Dodger's tone was reproachful, "You gotta return the favor, kid."
"I do?"
"Yup. Dontcha wanna make me feel good?"
"I, I guess."
"Ok then," Dodger turned onto his back and spread his legs slowly, "I'm sure you'll do fine."
Oliver got up slowly. He stretched and took a few small steps forward. Dodger wasn't too far away, but the dog was bigger than he was any way one looked at it. He reached him in a shorter time than he wished. He was near Dodger's ass. He had one leg in the air, the other on the ground. His balls hung between his legs. The white fur reminded him of hairy eggs. His sheath pointed towards his stomach with a very gradual curvature outward.
It was larger than his head. Oliver wondered what he was supposed to do.
Dodger reached down with one paw and stroked himself, running a claw from his balls to the rounded edge of his sheath. He leaned hard on his other arm, staring intently at the kitten.
Oliver came over hesitantly. He started sniffing. Dodger's scent was stronger than he anticipated. It was pungent; he literally fell back a step when it hit him. He shook his head and started to breathe through his mouth. He loomed hugely in front of Oliver. He could see the loose skin jiggle when Dodger shifted slightly. His sheath was longer than his back legs, probably both of them consecutively.
Fully aware of what it would mean, disregarding any overwhelming scents, he moved in.
He started small. Short licks at the center of the long column. He felt it expand. A sliver of pink poked out from the rounded top.
It was bigger than he imagined.
Oliver positioned himself on Dodger's thigh. The weight barely registered with him. He had a vantage point. With a little effort he could effectively cover any area save it's ventral portion.
He was able to cycle around his entire cock in under a minute. Starting at the bottom, where it widened shortly before his balls, he moved upward in spirals. Left to right, then down and back up, left to right. When he reached the top, he licked all around. Lastly he carefully licked around the naked flesh.
Whenever his tongue touched Dodger, it drove him mad. The texture was unlike anything except maybe, another cat.
The dog couldn't stop moving, but he was certain not to dislodge Oliver. If h did, that would mean the end of his fun. It would be impossible to cajole him back to where he'd been. Dodger had seen how reluctant he'd been to get started. He'd better make the most if it.
Oliver was having little trouble adapting to the rough motions. The leg he was perched on was remaining relatively still; that made things easier. He had only to lean out just a bit and he could lick at Dodger's massive cock. He didn't even try to wrap his mouth around it. When Dodger came, he was sure it would burst through his pores and dribble out his eyes or his nose or his ears.
It was easier than he thought it would be. The size difference worked to his benefit. He could almost stay still and let Dodger rock himself around his tongue. It was clear that the dog wasn't going to last much longer. He tried to speed up, but he didn't think it was making much of a difference. That didn't seem to matter.
Dodger was tempted to grab Oliver, tell him to leave his mouth open with his tongue dangling and use him like that. He didn't. Instead he left his arms slack despite wanting to pull Oliver upward when he couldn't all the area covered that he wanted.
Oh, but that didn't matter! His tongue was spectacular! Even if he'd somehow managed to remain inert he'd have cum in a short period of time.
He let a small groan gurgle out of his mouth, "Yeah kid! Cumming."
Oliver backed away, stumbling off of Dodger's leg.
Dodger grabbed himself with a paw, and with a few brisk strokes shot his load onto his stomach. He scooped it up with one paw and licked himself clean.
He flopped onto his back entirely. He closed his eyes and exhaled loudly. "That was good. You did well."
Oliver seemed taken aback, "I did?"
"Yup," He winked mischievously, "I'm sure the others will want to get to know you as well."
Oliver was speechless.
The End