FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Upon a dust-covered station platform, a Labrador awoke with a start, inhaling a sharp breath and stirring upon a rickety, well-worn bench. Dressed in simple attire, a long sleeve shirt rolled up to the elbow, with dirty jeans that hugged his legs, the dog blinked blearily and shielded his eyes from the glaring sun with the back of one paw. His golden fur glimmered under the harsh glow, his whole body bathing in warmth that bordered between pleasant and uncomfortable. He was already far too hot though, his top few buttons undone though he couldn't recollect when he'd unfastened them. If he were even honest, he couldn't even remember where he was, or how he'd gotten there.

He rose up from his slouch, sitting upon the edge of his seat; he looked around, panic slowly filtering into his blood, sifting through and rising up within him. Whilst the situation should have made him fearful, heart thundering in his chest, his worry came like a creeping menace. It was a shadow that was seeping through his body, taking its home in his gut and then spreading its vicious tendrils along every nerve until it welded itself to him. The dog found himself in rather ordinary surroundings, despite the peculiar tension he felt wrought in his stomach. He was sitting upon a bench, that much was obvious, but that was on what appeared to be an ordinary train station, with a single rail track lying before him below, its lines running off in either direction far off into the distance. Upon either horizon, the track disappeared over the lip, its edges flickering in the haze of heat. Standing up unsteadily to his footpaws, the dog walked to the edge of the platform, peering in all directions. The station itself was relatively modern. It looked as though it had been lifted from the twentieth century of recorded Terran history, a fact which the dog wasn't able to properly understand. He knew that this was not what he was really used to, but he knew it adequately enough. Away from the station, away from the platform from which the Labrador stood on was the vast expanse of acrid wilderness. Matching the sun's searing intensity was the sinister nothingness of desert acres that hugged the skyline and encompassed everything. It truly seemed that to the dog, he was on a platform in the middle of absolutely nowhere. That was what scared the young man most, that he was utterly alone and totally abandoned.

"Excuse me."

The dog's attention was brought behind him, and he turned his head, looking back over his shoulder to find the owner of the voice. It had been deep and rich, almost bringing a shudder to the Labrador's panicked body, shaking away the tentacle fear that riddled his system, if only momentarily.

Behind him stood a large man, dressed rather plainly in just a navy blue polo shirt and light grey jogging bottoms; a Rottweiler in breed, whilst they were both canines this male had a more imposing atmosphere to himself. He stood with his arms folded, leaning back against a wall that was plastered with tattered posters advertising some kind of theatre production, the artwork depicting a multitude of white roses. The brickwork was haggard, picked, chipped and dusted down by whistling desert winds, sand carving at the station and bearing its true face. The Rottweiler lifted himself up, standing upon both footpaws and stood at his fullest height, very nearly looking down upon the Labrador with a quiet, passive stare,

"Hello."

"Hi..." The Labrador responded somewhat dumbly. At least he was no longer alone, but the fellow canine did not seem much like a companion he would want in the wilderness, dressed as he was as though today was a casual outing. He watched as the man stepped up to him, unfolding the arms which did lessen his intimidating build, but it was impossible to deny the fact he kept himself in form and admirably so. Warm brown eyes greeted him with a small, albeit gratifying smile that whilst upon the dog's grizzled muzzle had a charming quality to them.

"I'm the Deputy Sheriff of this here town; the name's Tyson." He didn't look much like a police officer, but indeed, around his neck hung a chained badge. Much like the platform they stood upon, it was of ancient Terran culture.

"I'm... My name is..." The Labrador couldn't answer, at least not immediately. There was information in his mind, fogged by a cloud of uncertainty and painful confusion, but it could be brought forward.

"Just give yourself a moment. It takes a while to get your bearings." The Rottweiler put a paw on the male's shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly, tugging him round so they stood side by side. "Let me guess, you've literally just woken up on that bench there, no idea how you got there, why you're there, and what the hell's going on?"

"How did you...?" The Labrador mumbled, still dazed. He got a light chuckle in response,

"Trust me when I tell you this, but you ain't the first to turn up like that." Guiding the pair, the Rottweiler known as Tyson took the lead, pulling the staggering Labrador with him. He led him round the platform, down a couple of steps and past what must have been a ticket office. Only now did it begin to feel as though there was more to this place than the dog had first feared, reassuring him perhaps only a little, but much like the gentle hold of the hefty paw upon his shoulder, it soothed his spirit to just a simmer.

"Wait... how did you know I was here then?" The Labrador stumbled for a moment, but Tyson held him upright and rested as much as the smaller dog's weight against his muscled build, the contours of his torso filling out the shirt to near bursting, contrasted against the other male's more ragged, tired appearance.

"Cheryl radioed me. She called." Even in his addled state, something sounded off. Someone both radioed and called? It could, or should, be one or the other, but not both. The Labrador grunted his confusion, brow furrowed, posing the silent question of misunderstanding, "You know, she called - the one who released you?" The Labrador still didn't understand, "Hold up, you're telling me you don't know who she is?"

"Should I?"

"Everyone else does..." The Labrador frowned. That did not bode well. "Odd..."

"Who is 'she' then?" He tried, coughing as his dried throat scratched his voice. The desert was taking a toll on him.

"Nobody knows."

"Then what the fuck?" He snapped incredulously, "If no one knows who she is, how am I supposed to know?" He pushed the Rottweiler off him, paws shoving against his chest. The dog was not happy that he was in such a vulnerable situation with what was, to him, an absolute stranger. For all he knew, Tyson was not the officer he claimed to be. He certainly didn't dress like one.

"Because she releases everyone... she brings them here. At least, that's the common belief..." Tyson looked dumbstruck, genuinely shocked that the Labrador didn't fit the bill of the usual nut job he was being assumed to be. The dog growled, shaking his head with a wince and rubbing his forehead. It was just all too much to put together, too absurd to properly grasp. He had no fucking clue what was going on,

"Look, just... where am I? What is this place?" The Rottweiler held up his paws in defeat, trying his best to placate the irritated male,

"Alright, calm down and don't panic, you're not the first and you're probably not the last." He pushed open a creaking wooden door, the panelling fractured and eaten away into disrepair. The panes of its window had been frosted over in dirt and sand, but light shone through in a radiance of gold. As the door swung out into the lukewarm air, the Labrador could see that the station was set upon a ridge, with a sweeping town splayed out below it in yawning plain; fresh green fields surrounding it and a scattering of buildings were congregating around the centre of the land. A rusted truck was parked up beside what had to be the train station, undoubtedly how the Rottweiler had gotten up to this remote building, a place that looked practically derelict. Something niggled away at the dog that perhaps he had not arrived by train as he might have believed...

"Welcome to Haven Falls."

The town itself followed suite with everything the Labrador had seen so far. All Terran, at least in appearances - that thought seemed to bother him in the back of his mind, though he pushed it aside for the time being. It mattered little to him what everything looked like, he merely wanted to know what was going on.

"You, like everyone else in this town, arrived here, at grand old platform zero." The Rottweiller thumped the flat of his paw against the door's threshold affectionately, giving the tarnished wood a glancing stroke.

"Why's it called that?" Tyson shrugged, digging the other paw into his pocket to snatch out his truck's keys, the sound jingling above the quiet whilst of desert breezes,

"'Cause it's the only one and it's never used. Who cares?" He strode across the dusty yard and yanked open the driver's door, the hinge squeaking with a guttural clank that didn't sound healthy. "We need to get you to the station though, sweetheart."

Sweetheart?

"Uh, what was that?" The Labrador stammered, wiping sweaty dirt from his forehead with a paw. It was really sweltering, despite being late evening - or was that early morning? The Rottweiler let loose what was still a small smile, but it glinted with mischievousness. He didn't respond. The dog could only try and recover himself, blurting out the only comeback that came to mind, "Well, sure, but that's Doctor at least to you!"

Wooden... horribly wooden and a clumsy retort; Arthur smacked his forehead internally. Way to make yourself look like a stupid arse, he thought.

"Doctor?" Tyson's ears perked up, and he stopped just as he was about to get into the cabin, "What do you mean doctor?"

Even the Labrador had to pose the question to himself. The words had jumped out of his muzzle before he'd even had a chance to think. His subconscious then had spoken for him? He knew a lot about a person's mind, how they worked, what they would do. Yes... He was a doctor, of the brain. Perhaps not quite so literally, but he knew his work involved people. Of course he was a doctor, he had to be. Somehow, in the back of his mind, he knew that was true. He was a doctor with a purpose, and he specialised in matters of the mind, something which infuriated him immensely inwardly, as his own was in a chaotic disarray of jumbled nonsense,

"Doctor... I'm Doctor Arthur Quintos." Tyson levered himself back out of the truck, pushing the door to slightly so he could face the Labrador properly. He extended a paw for him to shake.

"Nice to meet you, Doctor Arthur Quintos. We're always looking for professionals round these parts." Arthur shook the paw, if feebly, still unsure what was going on and why he was there,

"Yeah... good to meet you to, Deputy Sheriff Tyson...?" He trailed off, fishing for the Rottweiler's last name, but he never got it. The dog was wrapped up with whatever it was that was so important to him. Arthur watched as the large canine returned to the truck, sat down and picked up what had been an unseen radio, putting it to his muzzle. The Labrador didn't bother to listen in or try and overheard what was being said; he frankly didn't care at this point. Walking up to the edge of the steep hill that reclined into the town of Haven Falls, Arthur let out a long sigh, imaging that he was expelling all the worked up tension that had accumulated in his gut. It still remained upon the intake, but he tried to convince himself that things would be alright soon enough. How, he didn't know, but he forced himself to think positively about his situation. At least he wasn't alone. Nor was he going to be left without food, water, or a place to maybe sleep for the night that had shelter. He might even be able to catch a cool shower, if this town had decent plumbing.

"Arty?" The Labrador blinked as Tyson called him out by his own appointed nickname. He would have hated that, but he couldn't be bothered protesting against it. He looked over at the dog who had his arms resting upon the roof of the truck and the door's top frame, "Sheriff wants to see you back at the station and you've got stuff to fill in before we can do anything."

Giving a roll of his shoulders in a defeated shrug, he consented to whatever it was the Rottweiler wanted. He was beyond just being out of his depth, but was suffocating in the oppressive sea of the unknown.

"Sure... whatever."

He walked over to the truck, its black paintwork flecked with scrapes from where it had been bumped and scarred, by passing stones kicked up in a flurry of the wheels or maybe sand that had worn away the new shine every car had. As Arthur yanked open the passenger door, rewarded with a similar squeal of complaining metal that begged to be oiled, he looked inside to a sparse interior. The bare bones of the truck had been left on display, with no fanciful decorations such as plush seats or modelled dashboards. It was simply a truck, with the gear stick jutting from the floor, the pedals dirtied by ground in sand, the seats themselves worn down by many years of individuals sitting upon them. In a way, the Labrador felt it suited the dog, for his plain appearance was identical to that of his no nonsense truck. Climbing inside, he tried his best to get comfortable and not have to feel embarrassed that he was being ferried around whilst he had no idea what was happening all around him.

Tyson started up the rusting monster, a deafening grunt of an engine far past its prime kicking into life. The whole cabin rattled as the machine sitting just under the pockmarked hood a few feet before them both churned away, pumping out a sickening cloud of diesel tainted smoke. Arthur could see in the wing mirror as the grey mass dissipated behind them, joining the swirls of orange sand that were dug up by the wheels as they started up. The truck moved with as little grace as physically possible, its suspension most likely being tortured against the uneven and obtuse stones that littered the dirt road winding back around the hill, descending down to the town's plain. The Labrador had to keep his paw clasped firmly to the door for support, his body battered as each lurch had him swaying from side to side, up and down, chaotic and unpredictable. For the Rottweiler beside him, it was as though driving such a dangerous vehicle so carelessly was second nature to him; he calmly sat and steered with but a single paw on the wheel, the other scratching at his crotch so elegantly. Arthur wasn't in the mood to sneak peeks though. He much preferred answers.

"We've been waiting for a doctor for some time now," Tyson spoke first, breaking what might have been awkward silence were it not for the riot from the engine. Arthur huffed his disinterest and swallowed it back,

"Why's that?"

"Not many medical people turn up. Only one so far was this elderly nurse. Though you'd be surprised with how few physical injuries she has to treat..." As the truck trundled down the dusty outline of a road, Arthur absently cast a glance at the Rottweiler, speaking before he thought,

"I'm not the medical kind," he said on a whim, as though the phrase were natural and plain to him. Tyson shot a look across the cabin to him,

"Sorry?" Arthur panicked. Had he said something wrong?

"I mean... I'm not a 'doctor' doctor, at least not the sort to help with remedial health stuff... I'm a doctor of neuroscience. I focus more on biomechanics than anything else..." Tyson sighed, like Arthur had disappointed him. In a way, he felt he had...

"Damn... Ain't much use some fancy science, down here. We need people with useful stuff. Like plumbers, builders, pharmacists, teachers and the like." He didn't say much else after that, leaving the Labrador to sit in an awkward silence. He thought of ways to drum up conversation again, and his mind turned back to his situation. Perhaps he could glean some more information from the Rottweiler. Hesitantly, he piped up again,

"So who exactly... turns up, as you put it? Surely it can't just be random." Arthur looked out the smudged window as they rolled into the beginnings of the town. The houses appeared slowly, dotting the sides of the road until they began to take more frequency. Their construction varied; gradually becoming better built the deeper the truck pulled into the district, until no longer did the vehicle fit with its surroundings, enclosed in what might have been an idyllic place trapped perfectly between the rural and the urban.

"You'd be surprised. All sorts turn up, from teenagers to the old. There never seems to be any consistent factor. Not even the rate at which they turn up. We get a call through from her, and then people turn up at the station." It seemed shockingly ominous, to the point that it sounded almost absurd. Arthur found it difficult to believe that the entire town's inhabitants were just amnesia-sufferers who'd found themselves in the middle of nowhere, but Tyson seemed positively serious. His temple throbbed with a painful ache. It felt as though someone had slogged him over the back of a head with a brick; if the dog was telling the truth, Arthur would just have to take his word for it. Whilst being highly improbably and sounding like the plot of some cheesy film, why would a police officer lie? Not unless some larger conspiracy was afoot. It made his gut somersault, but Arthur knew he was hardly in a position to resist - he had seen the landscape on their drive in. There was nothing but desert - the only means of leaving looked like the train, but according to Tyson no trains ever turn up... He was abandoned here.

"Okay, people turn up randomly. Don't they just remember who they are and go back to wherever they came from?" It was a simple enough thing to do. Even then, if the memory absence persisted, surely people could just leave and try to learn who they were themselves.

"That's the thing; nobody ever leaves." He said matter-of-factly, blankly steering the truck on a turn.

"I'm sorry, what?" Tyson yanked at the brake, the lever giving a dulled screech. The motor came to a quiet rumble and then coughed into silence.

"We're here."

Before he even had a chance to push the cryptic comments the Rottweiler was giving him, he'd already jumped out of the truck and slammed the door shut behind him. Without much choice, Arthur shoved his side door open and hopped onto the baking tarmac. The town, whilst giving the appearance that it was far larger than it let on, was surprisingly small and tightly knit. From where he stood already, the Labrador could see probably half the amnesties any local community could need, from a corner convenience store to a bar and restaurant just across the street, then just beyond that a firehouse with a gleaming red engine already parked up front. As he turned around, he was greeted with more local shops, such as a butcher's, grocers, and a barbershop. What Tyson had pulled up outside of though appeared to be a somewhat authentic looking police station; all that gave it away was that a plaque had been affixed to the entrance belying the ordinary nature of his architecture. It was caught between governmental ostentatiousness and general bland public normality. Were it not for that very plaque, Arthur would have assumed the building was some office block belonging to a company with just enough cash to spend to make them feel full of themselves.

The Rottweiler had already begun to cross the small lot where an actual patrol vehicle was parked up to the front entrance, turning round to see if the Labrador was following him. Arthur was, in all honesty, too preoccupied with taking in the sights. Whilst the place seemed to be an ordinary town, something seemed off - as though it was unnatural, or that he didn't belong. It didn't help when he realised that the few pedestrians and local residents who happened to be out and about that evening - as the sun was certainly setting now leaving the streets to finally cool off from the smothering heat - were staring at him with very little restraint. Even when he made eye contact with the several closest passers-by, they refused to look away. They openly gawped and glared at him, as though he were an alien or monster walking amongst them. Some even had the audacity to make hushed remarks to their nearest neighbour, sometimes even daring to point over at him. It sent a sick shiver down his spine. They were making it quite clear he was entirely welcomed, not as much as Tyson had.

"Arty, this way please."

It took a great deal of self-control to turn away from the onlookers, but the Labrador willed himself to distract himself. There were more important things afoot right now that he should be concerned with - the petty interest of strangers was not one of them. He padded his way across the baking tarmac and slipped his way past the officer through the held-open door.

Instantly he was greeted to the cool blast of air, moving into the shade finally and out of the unbearable desert heat. Arthur ventured his way into a tacky looking office space, unremarkably in every degree. The chairs were well worn, the leather on them faded and beginning to fray, ripping in patches. Their dried padding, flattened from years of use, was peeking through as if bleeding, trying to escape. Old desks, whilst sturdy looking, had clearly seen better days. Coffee stains splashed across their tops, rings marking their age dotted about from one forgotten mug to another. Folders, their edges tired and chewed from rifling fingers flicking at them, were piled indelicately at every interval, the lingering remains of words etched across them in scribbled pen, the ink having been drying out at the time to leave barely the faintest of marks. Potted ferns had been shoved into the corners of the room as if to liven up the place, for Arthur couldn't deny he felt a very cold sense of dread within these walls. Its unnatural quiet disconcerted him, made him believe that something was quite wrong. He doubted whether the plants were even alive - for all he knew, they were plastic. Fake replicas bought by some lazy soul who didn't have the time to amble about with a watering can, although that seemed to make sense to the dog. There didn't seem to be any activity. The police station, if that was indeed what it was, was deadly quiet.

"Slow day?" He asked as Tyson stepped in behind him, the door clattering shut behind them. Its hinges had seen better days, its glass smudged with wandering sand flurries that might have been peeling their way through the town. A sharp smirk came from the bigger canine as he lumbered into his workspace. Unbuttoning the his shirt slightly, he seemed to loosen up before the Labrador,

"Every day's a slow day."

Tyson eased himself down into one of those dying chairs, the armrests groaning as he leant his weight back against them until his rear settled itself upon the seat. It must have been reinforced, Arthur thought, to be able to take his weight so easily. It intrigued him however as to why the chair would be as ancient as it looked then... Surely to support the bulk of the Rottweiler, it'd have to be relatively new and modern. Arthur didn't waste too much time on the question though. It was just a curious observation that paled in comparison to the situation he was in. Tyson rummaged through the documents on his desk until he found what he must have been looking for. Drawing out a yellowed page, he thrust the paper towards Arthur with an outstretched arm,

"You'll need to fill this in."

"What is it?" He took the document gingerly, the grainy quality of the page beneath his fingertips feeling dusty and archaic. Giving just a precursory glance over its content, he gathered that it was some kind of registration form; apparently, according to the form's title, for citizenship to Haven Falls. It seemed a little farcical, but the odd detail sprung out at the Labrador - questions which were obscure, unusual, or downright bizarre which made absolutely no sense to him. Questions about some woman, if they'd met her, and anything they remembered before arriving at the station. Arthur looked up from the page, letting loose a bemused snort, "You can't be serious with half of these?"

"Deadly serious."

"What? Why?" He barely had the willpower to resist crumpling up the paper into a tiny ball, "These are absurd!" Tyson sighed, leaning forward in the chair with a gentle croak,

"It's just a formality. We're always... hoping that someone will turn up with more of an idea of what's going on than we do. It's never happened before, but... I, at least, like to believe we're not all crazy."

"You need to tell me just what the hell is going on here," Arthur spat, jabbing a finger in the Rottweiler's direction - probably not his best move, he would have agreed, but frustration was getting the better of him. Not knowing was eating away at him like a parasite, and whilst questions plagued him, he would be in no mood for evasiveness and a lack of clarity. The black dog just smiled sadly, a knowing look that told the Labrador more than words possibly could. Something was deeply wrong; he knew that much from those haunted eyes.

"Where would you like me to start then?" Arthur thought for a moment. Each query would have to count. Prolong the makeshift interrogation and Tyson might get irritated or even bored if at that. There was no obligation for him to say anything, being the one in charge here, but for as long as Arthur had his favour, he'd use it.

"Back at the station, you said I wasn't the first. What did you mean?"

"That you're not the first person in this town to have turned up out the blue," Tyson gestured back towards the door, "Everyone's turned up at the station - everyone in the whole town. You'll have to forgive them; they always get curious when fresh meat shows up."

"Everyone?" It seemed incredulous. Surely a whole population could not have popped up from out of nowhere on some train platform, "All at once?"

"No, not all at once..." The Rottweiler huffed, not a snort of annoyance but more fatigue. He was tired, though Arthur suspected it wasn't because of the questions, "One by one, gradually over time. First it started with this one guy, just woke up in the middle of nowhere and found a hut in this place - slowly, as he tried to adjust without losing his marbles too much, more people came. From there, Haven Falls sprang up, with each passing day it improved itself and adapted to this strange way of life we'd found ourselves in." Tyson opened his draw and picked out an immaculate looking folder. Unlike the rest, this one was in pristine condition, as though it were brand new and untouched. Carefully, he picked it up out of its home and dropped it on his desk, flicking it open. The first page Arthur immediately saw was the same form he held in his paw, the same pasty shade of manila, with an old photograph slipped into a paper clip at its topmost corner. It was a mug shot of Tyson, looking as if he hadn't aged a day. The Rottweiler tapped a finger at one of the boxes on the document - an 'arrival' date, "I showed up around about six years ago, my only memories being that of working in the military. I don't remember the rank, though I knew it was a lowly one and I wasn't very good at it for some reason." He pushed the folder in Arthur's direction, offering him the chance to read it over, "Sometimes I like to joke that maybe I was executed for cowardice, and now I'm dead in this place." He chuckled, but it was forced. Not because it was a bad joke; Arthur glanced up as he read to catch the grim flash that snapped across Tyson's expression. Part of him must have worried if that was the truth. Arthur honestly couldn't blame him. He feared something similar might have happened to him and now he was to suffer alongside the dog. Though, if he were honest, there were worse fates to be had.

"You knew that I was coming... You said something about a woman, calling you?"

"She calls Cheryl," Tyson said flatly, "There's a special line that's not connected to anything else - it ain't even plugged in - and she calls when a newbie turns up. Just says 'there is an arrival at the station.' Nothing else. We tried talking to her one time, tried ignoring the call, and tried calling back, but nothing works. We have nothing to go on and we can record her voice all we like, but we still don't know who she is or why she might be behind all this." The officer's eyes narrowed, and suddenly Arthur felt unreasonably exposed, "Though _you_said you didn't know her..."

"And you said people claims she released them," Arthur tried his best not to buckle, but the dog's glare, accusing and piercing, didn't even falter.

"We just... know. But you don't. That makes you special." The Labrador grunted,

"I'm hardly special for not knowing something. If anything, I'm the opposite of special - ordinary. I'm just ordinary."

"Well then... special to me, at least," Arthur held the Rottweiler's gaze as he tried to figure out what he meant. Surely this wasn't like back at the station, where he'd been called 'cutie' by the lumbering mass of what seemed to be pure muscle. "Special in that you can provide some leads... maybe." He changed the subject briskly, taking back the folder from the Labrador's paws before he had a chance to finish scouring through its contents. Arthur noted some interesting files, records of everyone who'd arrived and when, a profile of this woman people were claiming to know, but nothing he could sensibly use.

"I'll try not to disappoint then..." he mumbled, before speaking aloud, "Has nobody tried to leave then? I mean, I saw those train tracks. They have to lead somewhere." Tyson laughed. It was dry and unenthusiastic, as though he were bitter about the sentiment. Arthur didn't understand why.

"Usually this always comes up: people can't leave - ever. They've tried, with some even managing to be gone for a couple of days, but nobody's ever been away from Haven Falls for more than three. They just turn right back up at the station, in the same state as when they'd turned up only they remember their time here." He rubbed his brow. It was a question he'd answered plenty of times before, Arthur guessed. It would explain his derision when the Labrador had asked. It didn't bode well though, if no one could leave then what the hell was he going to do? He couldn't stay here, could he? Though he couldn't remember it, Arthur was adamant he must have had a life before coming here - whatever 'here' was meant to be...

"If no one can leave, that means no one can come here, either, otherwise you'd have people just walking into town and then being forced to stay... at least, I presume that's not the case," Arthur scratched his chin, "What do you do for food then? For water? For power? Where does that all come from, we're in the middle of a desert..." It was a disconcerting thought that they might be cut entirely from the outside world, if one even existed here. How could a town survive when it lived in a dry, acrid land? Tyson, as the Labrador was relieved to hear, had the answer, although it only raised more questions,

"We don't know, but the stores of our shops and grocers' stock themselves overnight, all the essential things we need are all provided - water is pumped straight to the buildings from a well that never seems to run dry, we've no idea how we get power, but as far as we can tell there's some rare lodestone that's got a charge, and everything's hooked up to that. At least, that's the theory... like I said, we don't get many doctors or scientists round here, so all we can do is speculate and try not to lose our heads with rumours..." It was an unsatisfying answer, one which seemed only to frighten the Labrador more than anything else. Whilst he was curious to know why everything was the way it was, why physics was apparently being ignored and why infinite supplies somehow and inexplicably made their way into the town, he was more worried over the point that what if, one day, these supplies would stop? What if the well did in fact run dry at some point? They would be trapped in an inescapably prison left to suffer. Tyson rose up from his chair, putting a reassuring paw on the smaller dog's shoulder. He had sensed the fear or maybe he just knew from experience, Arthur didn't care really - it was just nice to feel his touch, something to ground him, "Look, things have been going on like this for a long time, longer than my time here, longer than Cheryl's, and it goes back to the very first guy who showed up in this town. Things haven't changed yet and I don't think they ever will."

Something else bothered Arthur though, and at this point he feared this answer most of all. Given the responses he'd been getting, he was hesitant to speak up, but he felt he had to, if only to know and understand his situation better,

"You said that there's another nurse here, but she doesn't have to treat physical injuries... why is that?"

"Nobody gets hurt really... sure they feel pain, but any actual damage just... vanishes."

"Vanishes...?" Injuries don't just vanish. They heal. It's a slow process of repairing damaged tissue until it returns to its previous state, or at least as close to its former state as it can. In no way do wounds vanish, Arthur thought.

"Yeah, she doesn't get it herself, but whenever there's apparently some case of a physical wound, it's just not there. No evidence to even suggest it happened... yet people claim to have still been hurt." Tyson seemed just as baffled as the Labrador was. It made no sense, not that anything so far had done, but damage to oneself was a greater concern than magical stocks. Arthur swallowed nervously,

"So then has anyone... died? Here?"

Tyson didn't answer.

"Oh..."

"Yeah," the Rottweiler drawled it out, removing his paw from the dog's shoulder, though Arthur would have preferred he kept it there, or to even wrap his arm around his back just to make sure he didn't buckle at the knees and fall to the floor. He felt very weak for some peculiar reason. It seemed shocking to learn that no one had died since coming to this place, not a single soul. It was if it were unbelievable, that death was impossible. Arthur's throat felt dry, a lump forming at the back that wanted to retch itself up, "I'll go speak to the Sheriff, no doubt she'll want to say hello and give you a shakedown... She likes to scare newbies so as to maintain authority - try policing a town where you can't hurt nobody and you'll know why." He gave Arthur a shy, apologetic smile as he tidied the desk back up, hiding away his folder back into its draw. "She's a nice gal, don't worry. You'll warm to her. You just relax yourself and fill in that form and I'll call you in in a mo."

Tyson was about to stride off deeper into the building, but Arthur caught his arm,

"Is there... a bathroom anywhere?" He asked, trying to smother the quake in his voice. The Rottweiler frowned, but it was only momentary. He nodded his head towards a door on the far end of the room,

"Just in there."

Arthur said his thanks and let the dog go about his business, the Rottweiler disappearing off to find his superior. He felt nauseous. Quite literally, his world had been robbed away from him and replaced with this lunatic's dream. Many possibilities occurred to the Labrador in rapid succession, each conclusion more terrifying and elaborate than the last. Perhaps, he thought, he was crazy. That, to him at least, seemed the most farfetched. Something in his real life had broken down and he'd just snapped, going insane and whisking up this place in his subconscious to protect what sensible fragment of himself remained. He might even be unconscious, trapped in a coma, and simply lying in wait in a hospital bed. That seemed more optimistic than being diagnosed as a nut-job who's now sitting in a padded cell rocking back and forth in his straight jacket. But there was still the dark possibility that he had in fact perished somehow...

He shivered, shrugging off such thoughts. He couldn't risk thinking like that.

Pressing his paw against the dull wood, Arthur pushed open the door to the toilets. They appeared to be unisex, and relatively bland as he walked in. Cubicles lined one side of the wall, directly opposite that of the sinks, whilst some urinals had been fitted to the furthest most side. Immediately the Labrador felt uneasy with the open and rather exposing arrangement, and he wasn't even planning to take a leak. Instead he made a beeline for the sinks, running his paw over the metal work of the taps. They were old, as though they were well past the point of needing some renovation. As he turned the stiff faucet, there was a groan from the pipes in the walls until a sputtering of mild water burst out. The pressure was infrequent, flowing from smooth to jittery in intervals, but Arthur didn't care. He leant both his palms against the basin's edge, hanging his head low and breathing deeply. He had to keep calm, regulate his heartbeat. Now was not the time to be losing his cool, especially when he was being scrutinised by so many. He had to make sense of the situation.

He looked up to take in his reflection. He had never been much for shocking looks, so it hardly surprised him when his familiar face gazed back at him emptily. Stretching his muzzle, he checked to see just whether or not he could feel anything. Sure enough, every muscle twitch and movement of his face let him know he was indeed feeling sensation. Still... the brain can lie to the body. Senses can be flawed. It wasn't a sure fire test, but at least it proved to Arthur that the chances of him being dead were getting slimmer - that eased the weight off his chest. But he looked haggard all the same, as though he hadn't simply been awake for barely an aware and instead hadn't slept for days. He looked old... perhaps it was just his imagination playing tricks on him, but under the harsh fluorescent light of the dim tubing above, his unflattering composure appeared to be tired and stressed. He could hardly blame himself given the situation though. It was just unfortunate...

Sighing, he lowered his head again. He scooped up some of the spluttering tap water in one paw and splashed his face, letting the cool droplets trickle through his fur as it ran over his cheek bones and jaw. It was refreshing, but all it alleviated was his temperature. He still felt as though he were under duress, as if on trial, like he almost had something to prove. Either that, or it was something he had to hide. For some odd reason he felt almost guilty... Maybe it was because he had been exploiting Tyson's kindness, probing him for answers and essentially forcing him to help the Labrador acclimatise to his circumstances, but it went beyond that, like he had a secret or something. It was nothing more than a feeling however, so Arthur made himself pay no attention to it. Unless there was concrete evidence that he had something to hide, he'd just have to suck up whatever his subconscious wanted him to feel. He lifted his gaze back up to look into the mirror, just to check himself one more time.

Only blackness stared back at him.

He very nearly stumbled back, were it not for his paws gripping the basin. But his knuckles tightened and seized up as he gazed into darkness. The whole mirror, which had once reflected the dingy bathroom in its entirety, was now replaced with an empty, vacuous void. It seemed as if all light was being sucked into it, swallowed whole and never seen again. It slithered along the edges of where the mirror had before, Arthur unable to tear himself away from looking into the abyss it presented him. What the hell was going on?

A small, green line appeared in the upper left corner. The Labrador only noticed it when it began to blink, on and off; a peculiar, the only light and anything of fascination in an otherwise pitch black and engulfing expanse. Arthur felt his eyes drawn to it, unnaturally so, as if it would tell him some great secret or answer all his questions. He didn't dare glance away in case something happened. He almost expected something to lurch out at him, to scare him like a childish joke - he honestly wouldn't put it past people these days. The media was so twisted that the prank shows would go to extreme lengths just to spook their poor victims. The isolated town, the memory loss, the eerie and cryptic residents - Arthur was beginning to even believe himself that it might even be a genuine possibility. He waited for what felt like an age for something to happen, but for as long as he stared at the blackness, his eyes burning from the dreary dark and growing accustomed to the absence of light, save for that little green bar which still blipped away at him in the uppermost corner. Its borders had become blurred, wavering as the dog's eyes grew sore and tired. He would have to blink and look away soon, but he felt compelled to stare.

That's when it began to move. The green bar jumped to the side, moving right, as letters began to form. The bar zipped across in a straight line for the other side of the darkness, to the further wall, and paused and hesitated every now and then, as if thinking. As letters began to glimmer into existence, so too did an assortment of characters intermingled, in a random jumble that made no sense to Arthur. He tried to read them as best he could and squinted to make out some meaning from them:

Activate input.

What was that supposed to mean?

Interface open: connecting...

A series of numbers and characters started to sprawl out in rushed lines, careening from one side of the void to the other, before zipping right back to the beginning on the next row. Arthur stood amazed and afraid, the green text slowly building and building until it was all he could practically see. That vicious verdant glow stung his eyes and bore down from above as it towered before him, growing and growing with no end seeming to be in sight. The Labrador swallowed, trying to decipher some meaning from this incoherent and phantasmal babble. He wondered if he truly was just going insane. It would certainly help explain and relieve him of the current reality that made no sense to him. Even if it were an unfair conclusion, it was perhaps the most logical - and the dog was more concerned with sensibility than irrationality. Whether he wanted it to be false or not, he could very well be losing his mind.

Then, as abruptly as the text had appeared, the black space cleared itself, leaving behind that single cursor to blink once more. It scurried to type a new message, something else forming upon the abyss.

Connection established. Input:

It stopped, momentarily, and Arthur felt transfixed, watching as he waited for something new. It was almost as if he expected it, that he knew something was to follow. In a way, he didn't know what else to predict but for more to appear. At the very least he was right, as new text flickered into existing from the cursor's trail.

Arty? Arty are you there? Can you hear us?

Arthur stood there dumbstruck. Arty... was that a nickname for him? And if so, who was saying it? What was saying it? What the fuck was this?

Arty, you need to focus. You need to-

The door to the bathroom clattered open; the abrupt sound made Arthur jump out of his fur and shoot his head behind him. Tyson had it held open with one paw, leaning in to peer at the Labrador curiously,

"Yo, you finishing up?" He asked, a small frown on his brow, "Sheriff's ready for you."

"Can you not see the..." Arthur turned back around to face the void, but his reflection startled him. The mirror had returned, intact and just as it had been before with smears and all, greeting him with nothing but a copy of the room beyond its pane. He could see Tyson's bewildered expression from where he stood, the Rottweiler snorting,

"Can I see what?"

"There was..." It seemed almost impossible to begin to describe. The Labrador knew before he'd even gotten into the swing of his sentence that it would have been a waste of time to start explaining what it was he'd seen. The crazy conclusion he'd drummed up seemed to be more and more plausible, if he added in the fact that the mysterious message had now vanished and with everything resuming the ordinary. "It doesn't matter..."

The question was could somebody insane self-diagnose themselves as crazy?

"Right, just... hurry it up, okay? I ain't meant to be working today."

"Sure..."

The dog left, leaving the door to flap on its hinge and shutting Arthur back inside alone. He held out his paw and pressed it against the mirror, his fingers spreading out over the marked surface. A testing push beneath one paw confirmed his suspicion that it was, at least to him, real. It was solid and didn't give, but what good was that to him if he couldn't even trust his own sense of sight. Touch might very well be lying too. For all he knew, the cold, dirty glass might very well be the clean white of a padded cell, and he paw might only be touching it in his mind - for his palm could always held tightly bunched up against his other fingers in the mitten of a strait jacket. As Arthur pulled his paw away, it watched the warmed imprint of condensation rapidly fade away. It _seemed_real, but that wasn't quite enough. Arthur wanting something more, something that be a little more reassuring to his panicking mind, but he supposed cold, plain glass would have to do...

Sighing, he drew his paw away and wiped his eyes, backing his way towards the door. His eyes lingered on the mirror, half-expecting it to revert back any second now. When it did no such thing, he resigned himself to the bitter conclusion he'd hallucinated the whole thing. In an optimistic tone, he might just be severely dehydrated from lying in the sun all day and the heat had given him a bad stroke. There was one last lingering look over his shoulder before Arthur gave up hope, pushing his way out of the bathroom. Whatever it was, he'd never know now.

As he entered the precinct again, Tyson wasn't around. Instead the Labrador spotted the unmistakable silhouette of the large dog up behind drawn blinds, bright light hitting the shades and casting out the black forms of two figures. One, the bigger of the two, Arthur assumed to be the Rottweiler, but the other was smaller and lither in shape. With the natural curves of a woman, the Labrador walked slowly over to the office, seeing the female pace uncertainly around the space whilst Tyson remained motionless save for the odd flourish of a paw. As Arthur drew closer to the double doors, he could hear voices from the inside; Tyson's easily detectable low gruff, but another's higher pitched cutting tone,

"He has no idea who she is?"

"None, ma'am."

"So what else makes him different?" The woman-shadow stopped, turning around to face Tyson, "No knowledge of a woman and...?"

"He's a doctor." There was a weighted pause, "No, not that kind - neuro-something-or-other. The useless type we don't normally see."

"Odd... What do you make of him then?"

"He's nothing spectacular. Just a regular drop-in; rather ordinary and nowhere near being a threat." That... hurt, which Arthur found bizarre. He wouldn't have claimed to be anything beyond normal, but to hear someone call him essentially a 'nobody' was cutting.

Arthur decided he might as well make his presence known. He'd rather he be no longer scrutinised by these people, so he coughed and knocked on the door. The pair of them stopped talking, the woman marching her way over to the door. She yanked it open with one paw and Arthur was greeted to a rather irate looking female Doberman.

"You must be the new guy." Her voice was clipped, commanding and cold. There was no intention to be polite or friendly in her words. Strictly business, the Labrador concluded. "Come in."

Entering into the small office space belied nothing to the rest of the precinct. It was just as mundane and ordinary, with the exception of a few personal belongings and mementoes that the Doberman - Cheryl - kept around. Her name had been fashioned in a neatly engraved plaque on the front of her desk, boasting her full title and name for anyone to see. She walked over and leant back against the table's edge, giving Arthur the opportunity to take her in. Being rather shapely as her silhouette had made out, Arthur could see that she was particularly toned. Perhaps not to the extent as her subordinate, but she definitely carried an air of authority and strength. A small scowl lit her muzzle up in the dusty light that bleached along the floorboards, her sleeves rolled up to the biceps to reveal thick arms. She was someone not to be taken lightly, Arthur could tell that much, especially considering he had some intuition that she could probably have him on the floor within a heartbeat if she so desired. Tyson wouldn't even have to lend a helping paw - she'd get cuffs on the Labrador before he even had a chance to blink. Her coat seemed to be darker than Tyson's, sharing some of its distinctive qualities such as the bold contrast of colours from brown to black, but hers seemed to be redder, more evenly spread across her well sculpted body.

"Hello," Arthur awkwardly began, figuring he'd at least go through the farce of introducing himself, though he much suspected she already knew more than he did, "My name's Arthur... Arthur Quintos."

"Tyson says you don't know about 'her'..." Cheryl, someone Arthur had to assume was the Sheriff, if hierarchy was anything to go by, "How come?"

"If I knew that, I'd happily tell you..." It seemed a rather redundant question... If he knew why, then he would know who 'she' was anyway. Something to catch him out, maybe... "Who is 'she' anyway? Tyson never explained."

Shifty glances were traded between Cheryl and Tyson, whilst Arthur just looked between them, waiting for some kind of answer. The Rottweiler looked indifferent, but Cheryl's stare was harsh, like it was trying to dig deep into the large dog's conscience. Eventually she rose up, walking behind her desk and tugging open the top draw rather unceremoniously. She reached inside and hauled out what looked to be a somewhat old-fashioned phone, a thick cord connecting the handset to its holster, held up on metal prongs that were weighed down by the sheer mass. A circular ring was mounted to its front, numbers running around its edge. However, unlike Arthur might have expected, the only number that appeared to label this disk was zero. All the way to where nine should it have been, it was nothing but zeroes. The device appeared to be connected in no way to any telephone line or cable, therefore it should be impossible to serve its primary function - nothing but a gigantic retro paperweight.

"'She' calls herself Rosie, and she speaks to everyone who comes here just before they wake up, telling them they've been saved." Cheryl nodded to the phone, "Every time someone's saved, we get a call through here telling us a new arrival has turned up. We can't call back and it rings no matter what, whether it's disconnected or not. Every time."

"Fascinating..." Arthur murmured, edging his way closer to the desk. He felt compelled to reach out and examine the phone. Such a remarkable invention with such an absurd background warranted further investigation. The scientist in him was elated, gleeful for the chance to push himself and find out the truth behind the device.

"No, what's fascinating is that you..." Cheryl pointed an offending finger at Arthur, "...are the first person in a very long while to not know who she is." The Doberman strutted back around the desk and squared up to him, muzzle mere inches from his own, so much so that he could smell the dark scent of coffee lingering upon her breath, "You're something new. And I want to know why."

"If I ever know, I'll be sure to let you know..." He said rather weakly, trying not to let his fear show. There was a slight bare of her teeth, but ultimately Cheryl relented and gave the Labrador his breathing room, moving out of his space and over towards the doors. She cast a blood-curdling glare over her shoulder as she pushed open the door,

"Oh, and Doctor Quintos?" Arthur turned to look her in the eye, resisting the urge to tremble like a new born pup, "If you cause any trouble in my town, and you'll be sorry you ever woke up on platform zero..."

With the final chilling words, she left, leaving a stricken Arthur and bemused Tyson to watch the doors as they swung shut. Slowly, Arthur turned himself round with a cold expression, still in shock of his confrontation with the Sheriff. All he got was a light chuckle from his friend,

"Yeah, she's like that with newbies, don't worry. Just a tactic to keep people in line."

"I can imagine... Who'd want to be on the wrong end of her?" Tyson just laughed, not quite the full blown ordeal, but a stunted shout,

"I've been on both ends, and the results are mixed, I'll say." He gave Arthur a cheeky wink, which just sat oddly with the Labrador. What was going on with the dog, he thought. One moment he'd figured the man was gay from his earlier remarks, only now he had the impression he'd let work dabble with leisure. Was he straight then and randomly flirtatious? "You'll need to fill in these forms..." Arthur was given a small clip of yellowed papers, generic font stamped all across its front from edge to edge. As his eyes skimmed over it, he picked out bland bits of jargon such as his name, date of birth, species and breed if applicable. Normal stuff he'd expect from any kind of documentation. "Boring shit, but it gives us an idea of what we can do with you."

"I'll be expected to work?" Arthur asked despondently, taking a pen that was passed to him as he laid the papers upon the desk to write.

"Eventually, sure, in some way; we'll be setting you up with digs of your own and stuff like that before we start talking a place about a job." Tyson watched the scribble of the nib against the forms intently, watching the Labrador fill in every box. Some he had to leave blank, still not retaining his full memories such as his blood type or any such like, but a few questions or choices made his hesitate for a moment. Inquiries into his 'former' life had him confused, so he left those empty, not sure what it exactly was that he was being told to put, but others were more embarrassing. His sexuality had him waver for a moment, ultimately deciding whether or not he'd like to state that it was personal as was provided or to just be truthful. He wasn't ashamed, but it didn't seem like something he wanted to openly share just now...

Sighing, he went with the latter and finished up the papers, tidying them into a neater pile and throwing the pen atop them. Tyson lifted up the small pile with one paw, musing over the front for a precursory glance before he tucked them into a manila folder, his name scrawled across a small dotted line denoting possession to himself. That was his life, or the foundations of it, in one singular file. He felt so insignificant, especially when Tyson lumbered over to a cabinet and drew out the lowest possible draw, chock full of similar folders all alike, some more tattered than others, some newer and cleaner. Arthur's own was shoved into the back, left there to meet its new neighbours as the draw slid shut with a loud bang.

"So what now?" he asked, looking into the Rottweiler's soft eyes, "Where will I stay?"

"At such short notice, with me," Arthur's brow furrowed, "It's not normally protocol, but there's been a lull as of late. Nobody was prepared for your arrival. Usually we get a few days in advance but boom..." Tyson snapped his fingers, "You turned up on the spot. It's why we're all on edge. We don't normally get this."

"I see..."

"Is something wrong?" The Rottweiler looked at Arthur, arms folded. It was just Arthur running away with his feelings, nothing more. He didn't need to make things anymore awkward than what they currently were,

"No, nothing; so when do we leave?" There was a slight pause, as if the response wasn't completely satisfactory, but Arthur didn't know which was the case as the bigger dog just shrugged nonchalantly,

"Now, pretty much, just got to make a few arrangements and then we're golden."

~ ~ ~

'Home' was going to be a rather illustrious place for the near future, somewhere Arthur was incredibly amazed was residence for the Rottweiler. It seemed impossibly expensive, but whenever he questioned how he could afford such a place, Tyson just brushed off with dismissive answers. They were a communal society apparently, so 'wealth' was more just a means to an end - currency and value helped trundle an otherwise inactive economy around. With no needs of import or export, there was nothing to do except live out each day as it came and to at least enjoy themselves whilst they remained in this town. Though Arthur would have to press this matter of leaving the town more, albeit not tonight at the very least as he didn't want to wear out his host's hospitality - or in fact the tolerance of the whole community. Things didn't seem to warm up from the frosty reception he'd got when they'd first pulled into town. It hadn't changed by the time Tyson was pulling down the winding drive that led to his somewhat modern home.

It bore the marks of an amateur clearly trying their absolute best. Some of the paintwork was haphazardly finished in some places, but overall he had a nice appeal. As Arthur stepped down from the truck, slamming its door shut as Tyson fished out his keys,

"I don't think the guest room's clear at the moment..." he said absently, whether it was to the Labrador or not, but as he slotted his key into the lock, he turned his head over one shoulder, "I guess it looks like I'll sleep on the couch whilst you take my room." Instantly Arthur's modesty shot up faster than a speeding bullet,

"Oh, I couldn't do that!" he protested, "The sofa's fine, honest. I don't mind."

"I insist," Tyson said with a definite tone, as if the matter was closed entirely, "Besides, the couch is insanely comfy, though it reeks of my sweat."

Arthur had to hide the lewd smile as the Rottweiler swung open the door into his house, a soft throb pulsing in his pants. Contain yourself, he thought.

"I really wouldn't mind."

The Labrador followed in behind Tyson, taking in what would be his home for at least the next few weeks whilst the townsfolk built him a place of his own. Arthur would have thought they'd have some sort of halfway apartment or flat for new arrivals before transitioning them into a new residence, but nothing had been mentioned of it. Perhaps one did exist but they just didn't trust him under the apparently unusual circumstances. Perhaps they expected him to turn out to be some kind of psychopath. Perhaps Tyson just wanted the Labrador to be closer to him, to get him to a point where they would bang like wild beasts, provided Arthur's suspicions weren't faltering and he turned out to be gay or bisexual rather than straight. Or maybe there just wasn't such a halfway point and he was becoming paranoid. That might be it.

The interior was fairly pleasant. Well-kept and reasonably neat, it felt more like the dream home of suburban family rather than that of a bachelor cop. Arthur was amazed at the lack of mess. It wasn't that he was expecting Tyson to be somewhere close to a slob, but it was that everything was meticulously tidy. Nothing was out of place. Nothing was out of place. The plants were well-watered, vibrantly green and tasteful art was hung upon the walls. Not a speck of dust marred any surface leaving everything with a brilliantly clean sense, the air feeling fresh despite having been stagnating indoors under a baking sun for a day. Arthur guessed the Rottweiler might have an air purifier or a ventilation system hidden somewhere, probably just going to show the feats of the town's engineering. The Labrador was led through the open plan of the downstairs floor, Tyson pointing out where everything was. He didn't really listen much - most he would figure out by intuition and trial and error - as he took in his surroundings. Everything was quite modern, Arthur had to admit, and incredibly so. Barely anything seemed scuffed, broken, or forgotten. It was like every item and device in the room had its purpose and served it well. Too well, in some cases, as Tyson flopped down onto his couch, an action he did so casually like he'd done it a thousand times before and yet the furniture looked near enough to brand new. Not a single groove, flattened cushion or tired stain in sight.

"Make yourself at home," Tyson concluded, gesturing around the place in a general sweep of one arm, "Fridge is stocked, I got all the channels, it's up to you what you wanna do."

"When did you last go food shopping?" Arthur blurted out, his eyes casting over to the kitchen. Again, the same modern design and high quality units; whoever was building these houses was not only exceedingly good at what they did, but they also had access to stuff they typically shouldn't have. Where do you get building supplies when you're in the middle of a desert?

"Excuse me?"

"When did you last go shopping?" He repeated with his voice steadier and less rushed, "How did you manage to get television out here?" Tyson sighed, rubbing his eyes,

"Look, Arty, you're asking way too many questions all at once..." He had the tone of a parent talking to a child. The Labrador didn't like it, especially when Tyson rose up and tried to put his paws on the dog's arms to soothe him, "It's your first day and I think now the shock's beginning to get to you. You just need some rest..."

Arthur tugged himself away from the Rottweiler, pacing away a little,

"I'm perfectly fine," he snapped, somewhat irritably, but he was in no mood to be lied to. Or rather, he didn't want people hiding the truth from him.

"You don't seem to be." Tyson had a look of worry on his face, his large muzzle cast in a solemn frown. "Is it me...?"

"No," The answer came all too quickly, but Arthur just huffed, "No, not you. This place. Everything from when I woke up today... it makes no sense."

"I know... Everyone goes through adjustments. It'll take a while but you'll get used to things here." Tyson moved to embrace the Labrador again, only this time Arthur didn't fight back or fend him off. He just let the bigger male hold him, chin resting atop his head, as the dog continued to speak, "The more questions you ask, the more it'll eat you up. That much we know from experience..."

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked quietly, paws rubbing along the Rottweiler's thick forearms at wrapped around his chest. When Tyson didn't reply, the Labrador wasn't sure what to say exactly. It bothered him. Everything about the situation bothered him, but people weren't being straight and that just threw a spanner in the works. There was something awfully off about the entire place and between crazy hallucinations, evasive police officers or creepy townsfolk, he wasn't sure what it was that had him so freaked. He sighed, "I feel tired." Tyson let go slowly,

"I'll show you to my room then."

The Rottweiler led Arthur back around the house to the stairs which sat at the centre of the building. They were made from polished wood, elegantly carved and fitted beautifully. Arthur ran his paw along the banister as he tried to determine just which kind of wood exactly it was made from. Surely, in the middle of nowhere, materials like this would be impossible to find, let along manufacture. The question of where it all came from still bugged him. It lingered in his mind as he took in the upper floor. They passed an office, complete with a computer and numerous books, then a bathroom, and then past the guest bedroom - or at least, Arthur assumed it to be that. It was full of cardboard boxes, junk, and exercise equipment. There might have been a bed or something hidden away beneath it all, but even the curtains were drawn, a fractional sliver of light slitting through a tiny gap between them. Dust spiralled so gently into wide swirls from the winding current of draughts from somewhere in the home. It look unlived in, as if Tyson neglected the whole room altogether, aside from perhaps the lifting bench and a grouping of equipment nearer to the door - clearly how he maintained his physique. It looked recently used, unlike the rest of the musty collection of boxes.

Tyson carried on past that room though, heading instead to the further door, which lay open ajar. He pushed one heavy paw just above the handle, letting the hinges quietly squeak as they swung upon their axis. Arthur peered past the Rottweiler's bulk, gazing into the room. Another bedroom it would seem, only unusually cleaner and well furbished. The Labrador had taken the deputy sheriff to be more of the slob type, but he was being severely proved otherwise. The bedspread looked tastefully modern, a crisp duvet of white with a folded blue blanket placed just before the foot, draped across it lengthways. The pillows were plump and dreamily comfortable, just by looking at them Arthur could tell that they'd caress his head into a deep slumber, and the frame itself was of a polished wood that match most of the furniture in the house. Arthur wondered, if only for a moment, whether the timbered frame could support Tyson's weight, but if it still stood today then the answer was frankly obvious, if only a little surprising. Some bedside tables adorned either side, with a large wardrobe built into the side of one wall. To the side of that was another connecting door, already left wide open to reveal the ensuite lying just beyond. Furthest from them at the doorway lay the large glass doors which led out onto what appeared to be a balcony, a panoramic view that stretched out into the wide expanse of desert. The horizon looked near enough perfectly flat, a thin line that cut between smooth brown and then crisp blue, only the slight jag interrupting the stark contrast to disrupt the straight.

"What do you think?" Tyson's words were immediately proud. His tone couldn't hide the fact he knew it looked good. As Arthur stepped in, he whistled softly,

"You think I could end up with a place like this?"

The Rottweiler padded back around to stand beside Arthur, shoulder to shoulder, as they stared out onto the scene.

"Maybe... it'll take time though."

"That's all I've got though, haven't I?" The quiet was tense. Arthur could feel it crawling along the back of his neck, looming between them, unspoken as it was. Things weren't right, and things were being held back from him, he could tell. But he couldn't push for anything, not yet at least, even if it was still just as unsettling to leave things as they were.

"I suppose you do..." Tyson clapped his paws together, inhaling sharply, "Well, I'll let you get... uh, settled. I'll see if I can't go get a head start on that room before dinner."

He turned to leave. Arthur felt the presence move away from his shoulder, and heavy footpaws drop across the floor back towards the door. It felt eerie somehow, to suddenly be taking over someone else's room. He could sleep on the couch; it didn't bother him that much. He'd spent his fair share of sleeping in peculiar positions, though where and when still remained a mystery to him. But something did concern him about the room. For as nicely decorated as it was, it felt more like a hotel room, some kind of showcase for prospective homeowners, not a bedroom. It was as if it had been lifted from a catalogue, with every ounce of personality bled away from it. Though Arthur hadn't known the dog long, he knew that Tyson was not the sort to just live in some picturesque home alone without letting himself sprawl out.

"Tyson, wait..." The footfalls stopped. Arthur turned around, meeting the half-interested, half-concerned gaze of the Rottweiler, "What's going on?" A short laugh, though it bordered on a wheeze, was the first response,

"What do you mean?"

"Something isn't right... Everyone's weird, the whole place puts me on edge and this place..." Arthur gestured about the room, "It's like you don't really live here. It's like nobody does."

Tyson let out a heavy sigh. As if the game was up, as if he was ready to lift the blindfold. He closed the distance once again between the two of them, with slow measured steps. His eyes were cast to the floor, his expression solemn. One of his paws sought out Arthur's, taking it gingerly in his own, cupped like he would a cub's. As odd as the move was to the Labrador, he didn't pull back, not if it meant Tyson talking,

"I know it feels... strange, but we learn to adapt here. If you begin to question every little detail, you lose focus..." Tyson lifted up Arthur's paw and placed his other one over the golden fur, stroking over the soft pelt, "And if we lose focus, everything falls apart... People lose themselves to this place if they're not careful. If you keep on track, you'll settle in fine and things will be okay, you can sort through everything one detail at a time..."

Arthur's eyes glanced down from the Rottweiler's gentle gaze and to the grip he had on his paw. It felt weird, in a good way if he was honest, but he couldn't understand what the dog was doing.

"What do you mean?" He asked, his voice uncertain. "How do they lose themselves? What does that even mean?" Tyson just smiled, almost apologetically, as he somehow got even closer to the Labrador,

"They need something to anchor themselves, to keep themselves thinking in reality and not losing touch..." Arthur could feel the hot breath fluttering against his muzzle, the brown and black fur seemingly swallowing up his vision as Tyson leaned in, "Don't fight the way we do things. Don't fight the world, Arty..."

It was at that point Arthur was sure Tyson decided they were done talking. He certainly wasn't, but any more questions he had were suffocated and blotted out by the Rottweiler's lips clamping against his own. Startled, Arthur couldn't do anything. He didn't try to push the big dog back, nor did he respond. His mouth felt like solid lead, heavy and fixed and unable to do anything. He could feel Tyson's rasping tongue push against his mouth, but still he did nothing, simply allowing the canine to press himself inside until brute force had his muzzle open. It felt clunky and unreal. Eventually Tyson seemed to get the message, pulling away only slightly, but with his mouth removed from Arthur's,

"What's wrong?"

"I'm not gay." That was the immediate response. Arthur was fairly sure he wasn't. His problem wasn't that he knew he was straight but rather... he had no clue in general. He couldn't recall a time where he'd had sex. He was well aware of it all, even with fleeting memories of jacking himself off and imaging what it must all be like, but no recollection of actually losing his virginity. On that assumption, he could only conclude that he was like any other male: heterosexual.

"Sure you aren't, that's why you blushed when I hit on you." A sarcastic drawl, not something Arthur appreciated.

"It caught me off guard!" Arthur obstinately defended, ungrounded as it was. "I'm not into guys."

"So you're a ladies man?" Tyson asked, peering back at the Labrador. If he couldn't detect the uncertainty in Arthur's expression then he was a fool. There was nothing he could do to hide it. He just didn't know, and because of that he couldn't lie. "You really don't seem like it..."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Arthur spat the question all too quickly, a sign of his weakness in his resolve. Tyson stepped back from the dog, giving him at least a little space.

"You don't strike me as the confident, charming type." Tyson saw the damage done as he said the words, shooting to correct himself, "I mean, as in, you're not the forward sort who knows what he wants. You seem to want others to give it to you instead. Trust me, there aren't many gay guys around here, so I've got a fine tuned gaydar." The Rottweiler tapped his nose, flashing Arthur a cheeky smile.

"I'm not gay!" Another indignant and all-too-sudden defence; Arthur wanted to back into a corner and wish this were all not happening. He pushed his paws up into his face, rubbing his eyes as his head throbbed. Was he gay? It didn't seem likely? It seemed like the last thing he should be thinking about at a time like this, in his current predicament. There were pressing things going on.

Suddenly, he felt a warm embrace wrap around his shoulders, thick arms pulling him close. Tyson drew the Labrador into a tight hug, paws gently rubbing down his spine in slow, lazy strokes, the heavy underside of the Rottweiler's muzzle placed atop his head, almost cocooning the Labrador in the big canine's heat - though it might have been weird to Arthur before, in his state it was oddly soothing.

"You don't have to be. Nobody saying you are, at least I won't, not anymore if it bothers you that much. But you can't deny it... there's something there. Something between us..."

"I don't know..." Arthur mumbled, his cheek pressed into the thin shirt on the dog's chest. He could heart a thumping heartbeat somewhere deep inside, a gargantuan organ pumping blood through his vessels. It was something real to him, even if everything else felt screw loose and chaotic, this was possibly the first real thing he was experiencing, "I've not really..." He trailed off, not really wanting to finish the sentence. A number of options came to him. Not really had sex, not really been in love, not really been with a male, not really even known what to do with his emotions. It was all so surreal to him that he'd be thrown into a world he no longer understood.

"Not really what?" Tyson said, one paw placed upon the back of the Labrador's head, thumb brushing just between the ears along the scalp, "Been with a guy before or had sex at all?"

"Either..." He paused, feeling the hot flush of shame bleed across his face, though whether it was from some faint tinge of arousal as the anticipation and anxiety kicked in or true embarrassment, he didn't know. "Both..." He admitted eventually. Tyson didn't laugh, he didn't smile, not like how Arthur expected, he just squeezed the Labrador,

"Don't worry, we'll go slow..." He pulled them out of the embrace and lifted Arthur's muzzle up to meet his, the angle perfect for him to descend once more back onto those lips, "Just don't fight those feelings, okay? Just run with it, let it flow..."

Arthur wasn't sure how that would work out for either of them, but he didn't try to protest anymore. He was too confused and too muddled in his head to really care. If this would give him something to anchor down his mind, then so be it. He closed his eyes and waited for what felt like an eternity, those warm pants returning to his cheeks as he imagined Tyson's muzzle coming closer to his own. Then came the tender, fleshy lips pushed against his own, damp with saliva, and working on his. He let himself go, letting whatever felt natural surface in him. Arthur opened his mouth slowly, letting his tongue slip out to be greeted with the Rottweiler's. The difference was already obvious to him, the other's tongue already feeling as if it were twice the size of his own and nearly stuffing his muzzle full, but he didn't try to fight back. He could feel Tyson's tongue fill his mouth deeper, his own sliding along the underside, followed by the contractions and writhes. Their mouths moved against one another, tongues slipping over each other's, and then repeated all over again. Tyson didn't try to speed anything along; simply content it seemed to let Arthur acclimatise to what was going on. His paws remained as they were with one held at the Labrador's hip, the other pressed between the shoulder blades to keep them close. He was thankful for that, knowing how uncomfortable it might be to stoop to close the distance between their heights. It was almost intoxicating, the peculiar taste of the Rottweiler's muzzle bleaching into his own, that tongue pushing into corners that seemed nearly impossible to reach, giving the Labrador a sense that his throat was very nearly the next to be penetrated. He wasn't an idiot of course. He knew quite well what would be expected of him soon enough. He might not know whether he was gay or not, but he wasn't ignorant of how things worked between all-male sex. Whether he'd cope with it or not was another question however...

As leisurely as it had begun, it ended with just as much grace. Slowly, Tyson pulled back, removing his tongue from the Labrador's muzzle, both of them left panting for air as their mouths were cleared. Tyson had to smack his lips to wipe away the excess spittle. Arthur had thought it might embarrass him, but the Rottweiler had a charmed grin on his muzzle, unlike any other smile he'd bore before. It was a pleasant, well-meaning grin...

"See?" He growled softly, his paw stroking up along Arthur's back, "Not so bad, right?"

He had to admit, it was indeed enjoyable. Arthur wanted to do it again; he wanted to feel the Rottweiler closer to him, to surrender himself to him... Never had he ever felt anything so instinctual and primal before. It was like a whole different side of him had been unlocked, like he was free to do whatever he pleased.

"Yeah... it was good." He didn't know how else to sum it up. Foreplay and talking sexy were not skills he had. Tyson just chuckled,

"I bet I could make it feel far better than good..."

Cockily, his paws began to roam across the Labrador's body. Arthur let him do what he wanted, deciding to test himself. He placed his paws against the Rottweiler's hips, one on either side, as Tyson led. Those paws tugged at the bottom of Arthur's shirt, lifting up the hem and peeling it up to reveal the creamy gold of his torso. A cold breeze rushed against his back and stomach as Tyson undressed him, his arms raised instinctively as to let him pull off the shirt and throw it aside. He didn't see where it landed. He doubted he would know until morning. Something deep within him suspected that this wouldn't be over any time soon, not that he wanted it to be.

Tyson turned to himself, unbuttoning the top of his polo before finally disrobing too, joining the Labrador in their semi nakedness. Arthur's breathing hitched as he got to see the Rottweiler's chest. It was honestly magnificent. Whilst he was slim and agile, his build hardly showing any muscle, the larger canine's frame was exactly that. He was huge, with bulging pectorals and abdominals that Arthur was sure he could wash clothes on. Every contour was so deliciously defined, years of effort gone into maintaining what had to be a very demanding physique. He couldn't even hold himself back from pressing his paws against the Rottweiler's chest. His paws pushed and massaged into the muscles, testing their firmness, as Tyson stood there letting Arthur explore. The Lab didn't even care if it seemed out of place or bizarre to do. It was both fascinating and intensely mesmerising to observe...

"You like what you see?" It was impossible to ignore the pride in Tyson's tone. Arthur could hardly blame him for being confident in his physique. Though he didn't personally strive for any sort of fitness, the dog knew when to respect a greater male's build, especially when it made him look like the equivalent of a dwarf beside him. He wouldn't even be surprised if the canine could deadlift him, as if he weighed nothing more than a paperweight. Arthur didn't usually surround himself in the company of beefy men. He was more used to working around people much like himself, who were frailer, but he couldn't put any faces together. He just knew there was a group of them, people he worked with. He had never dreamed of finally getting the chance to get up close and personal with someone of Tyson's calibre. His throat felt dry. His paws were sweaty. Suddenly biology and internal chemistry were working against him, regardless of whatever his mind thought. Even if he decided he wanted to turn around now and stop altogether, he knew his body wouldn't agree, and though he may regret it he wouldn't dare stop himself.

Arthur's paws brushed over something that made the Rottweiler's body go very still. He felt the shift in atmosphere, like the very air in the room had gone cold and stagnant, soberly stale as he breathed it in. Tyson's smile had faltered, to something akin to a grimace. His eyes didn't look down at Arthur, but straight ahead, as if he were waiting for something. The Labrador looked across the abdominals where he'd touched, spotting the thin faint lines of scarred tissue. His fingers gingerly lay over the whitened flesh, the fur no longer growing where the damage had been done. Arthur was positive a story lay behind them, and a dark one at that, going by Tyson's deadly manner. He looked up at the bigger dog, seeing the angry frustration behind his glassy eyes. He was waiting for him to pass comment, to ask what they were. All that pride he'd had before was now dripping away to reveal a miserable skeleton beneath, broken and brittle. Tyson clearly hated the scars, hated how they looked and how they made him feel. How Arthur would react next would determine how things would go from there.

"You're beautiful..." He didn't even have to think. The Rottweiler probably was the best specimen he'd ever laid eyes on. Whilst he might not be a true medical doctor, he had examined one or two individuals in his time. Tyson had to be the most exquisite person he'd ever seen, baring his body for him to see. The large canine's demeanour seemed to shift back into gear, if not warmed with a lulled sense of sad happiness. Arthur just chalked it up to the fact that maybe no one had said that about him for a long while, that his scars had been enough for some to reject him. Whatever it was, Arthur didn't think twice on it. He was no picnic, he knew that much, so who was he to suddenly start criticising others, especially those who just wanted to help him.

"Thank you..." The words were soft, delicate. They didn't sound like they should have come out of Tyson's muzzle, but they did. Tinged with his gruff accent, smoothed over by his intent, Tyson pushed Arthur back onto the bed, the Labrador dropping against the covers with a thumped bounce. The brute climbed over him, paws pressing into the mattress on either side of Arthur's head, whilst he straddled the dog's thighs. Tyson's head loomed over his, muzzle inches from his own, as his dark eyes stared straight into his own. It was almost as if the big canine were trying to fathom what kind of guy Arthur was, judging his remarks, weighing up as an individual. He didn't know what to do with himself other than just lie there, somewhat at an end with himself, blushing furiously with the Rottweiler being in such close proximity. He became all too aware of everything all at once; the sudden heat that enveloped him from Tyson's body, the faint smell of sweat and musk emanating from the deeper folds, the intense sensation of submission that seemed to wriggle its way to the surface within him, the tell-tale bulge of the bigger dog's crotch demonstrating his sheer size was a force to be reckoned with. Arthur didn't know what to do, how to react, what to proceed with first. He was out of his depth from here on out. He did the only thing that seemed natural to do. With a dainty flick of his tongue, he licked at Tyson's nose, much like how a pup might with its father. It was juvenile, possibly even a mood killer, but Arthur was by no means an expert.

Momentary surprise lit up on Tyson's face, which soon melted in lustful need on the Rottweiler's handsome face,

"So cute..." His muzzle leant in close to the Labrador's ear, his warm breath tickling his neck, "I'm gonna have fun breedin' a pup like you..."

Arthur felt his whole body react to the statement alone. Tingles shot down his spine, his sheath flushed with blood, hardening his member, his ass lurching as it dawned on him what that meant for him. Though he was scared, for he'd be an idiot not to admit that, he couldn't think of anything else he wanted more than to feel the huge dog inside him, to be stroked in every way imaginable until he was crying out for more. He had no idea how it would feel, but he was convinced that whilst it may hurt, Tyson would make it better.

The Rottweiler's paws moved, one leg lifted up and to the side so that he could get at Arthur's fly. With a flourish of deft fingers, moving with grace that belied their size, he had the Labrador's pants off before he could even attempt to help himself. Before Tyson even undressed himself, he could feel those digits tugging at the waistband to his underwear, pulling them down and exposing himself to the canine. He felt vulnerable, the only one of the two of them who was properly naked, and it unnerved him, especially as the Rottweiler's beefy paw stroked down his belly, running in slow, hungry circles around his stomach, going across the flat of his gut. He was dancing dangerously close to his crotch, flirting with the line where his waist might be. Arthur didn't know what to do with his own paws, his fingers outstretched to claw at the sheets. He pulled them up in fistfuls, eyes watching down his body at Tyson's paw, waiting for when the next move might come.

It seemed almost like it would never come, that the Rottweiler was just teasing the poor dog, but then it happened. It very nearly startled Arthur, his body twitching from the sudden move. Kneading fingers cupped his sheath and balls, massaging them altogether in one giant paw. He could feel his body responding, his cock eagerly firming up to slip out into the open, his senses frantic with the feeling of being fondled. It was the first time anyone had ever touched him down there, the first kind of intimate contact, of _sexual_contact. It felt glorious and terrifying all at the same time. Arthur had to focus himself to not just lose it there and then, to hump into Tyson's paw with no control. He didn't want to seem so much of a novice to the Rottweiler, though it was incredibly difficult to hold back. He just bit his lip, forced himself to calm down, and clutched onto the bed like it was a lifeline, anything he could do to fend off the electric sensations. He felt as stiff as a board, his back straightened out, his sheath throbbing now with fervent need.

"Hey, hey..." Tyson cooed, as if he were trying to calm some feral beast, "Relax, pup..." His arm ran under Arthur's head, the bicep propping it up like a meaty pillow, his free paw sliding down to squeeze at his shoulder. He loosened his grip on the Labrador's junk, content to move to just rolling his ample balls around in one paw whilst he gave chaste kisses to Arthur's cheek. "Just breathe and relax... I ain't gonna hurt you."

Arthur believed him, though it did little to soothe his nerves. It took him some time, but as he let himself adjust to the sweltering presence of the god beside him, he found the sensations to be pleasant, to be devious... His control built with every passing minute, until he felt comfortable enough to sidle closer up against the Rottweiler's torso, placing one paw against his thick chest. It was uncanny to cuddling, Arthur mused, if it weren't for the sexual tension. He knew what Tyson wanted, and frankly he was getting to the stage where he wanted it just as much, if only his inexperience didn't hold him back. He had to go at the Rottweiler's pace, who seemed to have a good idea as to what he was doing. But Arthur took a bold step. He slid his paw down along the dog's front, moving towards the abdomen. His fingertips brushed over those scars once again, purely by chance, only this time he noted that there was no reaction, as if Tyson no longer cared. His paw didn't stop until he had reached the zipper, unbuttoning the fly and then letting it fall open. Tyson seemed to get the message, but his paw shot up from Arthur's sack, snatching at his wrist. At first, Arthur thought he'd done something wrong, panic seizing his chest and apologies already being formulated in his head. But when he lifted his head to look up at Tyson, the dog looked... nervous. It was shocking.

"What's wrong?" The larger canine bit his lip, like he was wanting to hide something or hold it back, but it seemed inevitable as he tried to search for the right words to say,

"I know you've not been with guys but..." A pause, pregnant and weighted as he tried to make sure he phrased himself correctly, "But... I'm not like most guys..." Confusion flashed across Arthur's face. It prompted more stuttered explanations, "Let's say I'm... above average?"

"Oh..." Arthur realised what he was getting at, though he wasn't entirely sure of its implications. So what if Tyson was endowed, what difference did that make?

"Yeah..." He drawled sheepishly, as if he were embarrassed by this fact, "I just... I don't want it to scare you, you being a virgin and all. We don't have to if you don't want to..."

Arthur didn't reply to that. He wasn't sure he could, if he were honest with himself. Given the opportunity and the genuine question, there was a high possibility he'd say to stop before things got out of paw, but he held his tongue. Some dark part of him had taken over. His only response was that of tugging his paw out of Tyson's grip, the Rottweiler's face worried and concerned, and he lowered his paw back down to the waistline. He pushed the trousers down, revealing an obscenely bulging jockstrap. Tyson kicked the pants away and allowed Arthur to explore, to venture at his own risk. He ran his paw over the curve of the dog's sheath, the thin fabric between them seeming nothing more than an inconvenience and a mere polite convention. Arthur marvelled at the heat, which seemed to permeate through the cloth and into his very paw at an astonishing intensity. But then there was the stench. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was certainly potent, strong enough for the Labrador to not mistake it for anything else. He could hardly blame the man, living in a desert town, driving around in a hot metal truck. The drifting smell of musk and stale sweat, it became stronger as the layers peeled away. Now with only the underwear left, Arthur was hit with it full force. He wasn't put off by it though. If anything it was having a strange effect on him. Not so close to be hypnotic, but it was somewhat addictive to just take in a big lungful of air and just let that aroma linger in his nose. Part of him even felt compelled to just press his muzzle into those sweaty balls, let that fat cock lay over his muzzle and to just bathe in the scent.

Finally he could resist it no more. It was time for the moment of truth, to lift away the jockstrap and to see what Tyson was so worried about. Arthur didn't stand on ceremony. He pulled down the underwear with little care, letting the huge sheath and fat balls roll free into the open air. He swore the Rottweiler winced, almost expecting some negative remark. But Arthur just took a hold of the sheath in one paw, lifted it up in his palm and weighed it. It would certainly be big, far bigger than his member, but it seemed to be manageable. Not that he had any context to compare this against, but it was something he wanted, even if it meant a challenge.

"I can make it work, it's just... it might be uncomfortable..." Tyson seemed to be attempt damage control, as if he believed he'd just dropped a bombshell on the Labrador - perhaps even a literal one. But Arthur wasn't paying attention anymore. The stench was taking over in his brain. Pheromones in the musk must have been at play, he suspected in some lingering rational thought, until he abandoned it altogether. He pushed his muzzle down to the opening of the sheath and plunged his tongue inside. It seemed laughable that there was plenty of room for him to kiss the opening, swirling his tongue around the fleshy tube, slathering it with his spit. The thick, bitter taste of old pre coated his tongue until he began to taste newer flavours. The fluids seemed to splutter forwards in a desperate attempt to get out, leaking all over the bedding and the Labrador's chest. But the mess didn't bother him. What he was more concerned with was the growing hardness that was rushing up to greet him. He could feel it beneath his paws, the muscles around Tyson's crotch tensing, as a fat tip prodded against his tongue, then slid up to butt at his mouth. Its tip, whilst tapered, felt like a blunt hammer as it slithered its way out of its home, like a snake worming up into the sunlight. Arthur leant back, giving the monster some room to emerge. The Rottweiler hadn't been lying when he'd said 'above average'. He knew what was considered to be normal, though variations in size usually fluctuated an odd inch or two in either degree, and any extreme cases tended not to breach double digits. But as Arthur allowed the cock before him to grow, to swell, to pulse with dirty need, he wondered just how well tested those studies were. From a single glance, he swore the behemoth was most likely as long as his forearm, and twice as thick at that. He was aware that size also differed between species, where a horse, a donkey, or a bull could outdo those such as felines, canines, or marsupials. But this law of nature seemed to have been not just merely ignored but warped, flipped upon its axis and thrown in the other direction. Arthur was convinced that if he had the chance, he could compare Tyson's length and girth to that of any equine and see that they were either equal or inferior - the question of which it would be seemed irrelevant. All that mattered was that Tyson didn't just wield a dick, but a fat, fleshy bludgeon.

Nervously, Arthur swallowed back a gulp,

"Have... have you ever measured it?" Some morbid part of him wanted to know, whether it was to attest the Rottweiler's vanity or just to put a figure to the gargantuan beast. His paws reached out, slipping around the greasy shaft and lifting it up with both paws; he couldn't fit his grip around the cock even at its thinnest point. The heat was unimaginable, searing against his paws as though the rod were truly blazing, throbbing into his grasp like an insistent child.

"Not really..." His tone seemed honest enough, he didn't falter, but his answer left obvious questions, "Some of the girls I've been with apparently know, but I don't ask them."

He suspected the Rottweiler knew, even if it was just some small inclination, but he knew. It was a blatant fact he couldn't avoid forever. Someone had to have told him. It didn't matter to the Labrador, for this was the first ever dick he'd held and seen, but even he had to recognise the rarity of it.

Bringing his head down, Arthur supposed what he had to do next. He knew very well he wasn't going to fit the thing all down his maw, but he could at least give the cock some attention. Instead of going for what was obviously a worthless idea of swallowing the head, the Labrador lapped his tongue along the bittersweet warm length of the pulsing member. Rank flavours of musk and pre flooded his senses before he'd even had a chance to slurp back the first wad of spit that had welled up. It didn't deter him, but it gave him enough to digest both figuratively and physically. He carried on with his work though, hearing soft moans of pleasure from up above him. Tyson was relishing in his worship, one paw stroking the back of the Labrador's golden head as he pushed his hips forwards ever so slightly. Arthur's lips bumped against the knot, feeling its unmistakable hardness beneath his mouth. Soon it would bulge to an even greater size, possibly put somewhere where Arthur couldn't see. He wondered whether that was a godsend or a curse. One the one paw, he'd have liked to have seen just how big the bloated organ could get, but then again if he did, could he ever stomach the attempt to take it?

His mouth felt slippery, coated in his own excess saliva and pre from the dribbling beast. The fur around his lips was matted with the sticky mess, feeling as though he were making a meal out of the dick, much more than he should have been. But Tyson didn't seem to mind or care at all. He allowed the dog to lap along his shaft as much as he pleased, wincing and growling softly to himself whenever he hit upon a sweet spot. Sometimes it was the particularly potent part just behind the swollen knot, other times it was around the tip, suckling upon the head as one might a lollipop. Arthur had a suspicion his talents were crude at best, unrefined and amateurish, but he hoped he made up for it in effort and gusto. He tried to respond well to whenever he got a good sign from the big Rottweiler, attempting to repeat whatever he did to warrant such hearty groans of bliss. The trickle of pre was near constant from the Rottweiler's oozing tip. It was hot to watch, as each throb and flex of his meat seemed to force out just that little bit more, dripping down onto Arthur's thigh, then slowly to the bedsheets. It made him hard just watching, knowing where it would soon be pumping that gooey goodness. His paw snuck down from Tyson's member to his own, feeling the difference immediately as he teased the rest of his shaft out of his sheath, but he couldn't help himself. As he continued to lick along the dog's length, he squeezed and stroked himself, grunting as his paw dug along his sensitive flesh. He didn't even match up to anything a third of the Rottweiler's size, not that he felt compelled to challenge him over it. It was just something innate within him, that Arthur felt like he had to at least acknowledge that he was smaller and inferior to the larger male, perhaps even dare to embrace the difference...

"Arty, if you keep that up, I might end up drowning you..." It was an exaggeration, Arthur knew that, but part of him suspected he might just be telling the truth. A darker part of him wanted it to be true. He obliged and pulled his muzzle away from Tyson's dick, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist.

"Sorry," he gave his immediate response. It wasn't even serious or said with any intention, but he blurted it out anyway. Something just clicked, that he had to be apologetic for some reason. He blushed not soon after he said it, half out of embarrassment, the other from the response it gave him. Tyson lifted up his chin with one paw and pecked him on the lips,

"Shush, you were good. But I think we can do better..."

The Rottweiler shuffled up on the bed, arm outstretched behind him at an awkward angle; he was reaching for something. He pulled on the handle to the draw beside the headboard, rummaging inside until he must have fallen upon what he wanted. Out came a rather indiscriminate looking bottle - a weird hybrid design between something the Labrador thought might be a sports bottle and a manual pump dispenser. He soon learned properly what it was when Tyson scooted up onto his knees, his body rising up to sit on his thighs on the bed, pulling himself away from the smaller dog.

"You might want to lie on your front, or all fours," he sheepishly said, nodding just to a spot further up from Arthur, where he could better reach the pillows, "Whatever's comfortable."

As he levered himself further up onto the bedding, Arthur glanced over his shoulder, watching what the Rottweiler was doing. Comical squelches and squirts make his ears flick as Tyson pumped a generous dollop of what looked like thick water onto his paw - lubricant. Arthur could already feel his face flushing as he realised what it was. Tyson didn't stop until he had what looked like a rather obscene amount piled upon his paw, the once mountain now sliding down itself as it attempted to pool and run off the edges of his palm. He tossed the bottle onto the edge of the bed, somewhere where it wouldn't be in the way but still within reach should more gloop be required, and then moved to Arthur's rear. From there, the Labrador's view was restricted just to the periphery, his other senses and awareness kicking in to compensate as the bed dipped by his shins, a heavy weight pushing the mattress down.

His looks back over the shoulder didn't reveal much anymore, other than confirming the Rottweiler's presence closing up on his rump. Arthur settled to drawing a pillow closer to him to rest his head upon whilst he allowed Tyson to do whatever it was he needed to do. All he could do himself was relax, anticipate, and wait.

"Lift up your tail, pup, let me see what I'm workin' with here."

Obediently, the small dog raised his tail, shivering as it felt peculiar to willingly expose some intimate part of himself to another male, especially an area not typically associated for conventional sex. But this was far from conventional, and under perplexing circumstances. Arthur wasn't going to deal with questions of reality.

A colder shudder ran through his body when he felt wetness being applied to his crack. The appreciative grunts from Tyson called softly to Arthur as he laid his head upon the pillow, his legs automatically spreading apart whilst thick fingers dug into his cleft. His cheeks were prised apart, his hole left open to the dog's discretion. Arthur had to bite his lip as cool goo was slathered across his entrance, feeling the gel smear around as fingertips dug against his flesh and fur. Tyson didn't yet go to try and enter him, which struck him as odd, but he figured the dog knew far better what he was doing than Arthur did. He closed his eyes and lost himself to the sensation. The lube was some strange kind of concoction, as soon after it had been first lathered across his ass it began to warm his rear, the soothing sensation dulling down the nerves. Whatever it was, it was blissful, as Arthur could feel his muscles relinquishing their tightened grip on his limbs, his buttocks unclenching as he allowed the Rottweiler open access.

In mere moments though, as the heat set in, he felt the first of what would be many fingers push against his rim. It felt far too large to be something to start on, but Tyson was stronger than Arthur's resistance. Slowly, with firm but gentle pressure, the Rottweiler's finger began to descend into the Labrador's hole. Arthur squirmed at the uncomfortable sensation. He was not accustomed to having objects enter him in such a fashion. But he was aware of what the body was capable of; he knew his rim would adjust, as would every other part of him. For now though his fur stood on end, his limbs tensing back up once more as he felt Tyson's digit burrow into him. He pivoted it backwards and forwards, the first and second knuckles digging into the whole before retreating again. Arthur felt himself growing used to having the finger in there, the girth of it stretching him out until it felt only natural that the Rottweiler's finger be able to smoothly pass through the ring. Soon he was up to the very last knuckle, pushing the paw against the cheeks to get in as deep as he could, making Arthur grunt from the sensation. He'd tickle a spot within him, a very specific point inside his guts that made his cock jolt at the feeling. It was intense, uncomfortable, and euphoric all at once, like a deep pressure that was building up with nowhere to go except through his most sensitive parts. He could feel his abdomen tense up as Tyson jabbed that point again, earning him another huffed groan from the Labrador.

He soon shifted things up a gear when he introduced a second finger. Though it was just an extra digit, something so unremarkable it hardly seemed worth noting, it made all the difference to Arthur. He let out a pained whine as Tyson quickly slipped it in, pushing his rim apart with the size of them both. The Rottweiler cooed softly, probably knowing all too well how much it must have hurt, the discomfort radiating through his abdomen. It felt like Arthur just wanted to clench down and push them out, but he suspected that even if he tried, Tyson's strength would easily best whatever he had left to muster. Instead he just thrust his head into the pillow, doing all he could not to break out into a cold sweat as the exertion took its toll on him. Though he'd like to think he adjusted quicker to the change than the first digit, Arthur couldn't lie and say it wasn't harder. But slowly he could feel Tyson's attention to his hole became more tolerable, borderline pleasurable as he stroked that hidden spot all over again. When the third finger came, Arthur was used to the motions. Yes, it hurt, but he bore it with better dignity. Only a struggled gasp escaped his lips as Tyson pressed in his third finger, rocking his paw back and forth to let all of them slide in and out. The Labrador could feel the force it took to make them slip in, the lube squelching and oozing between his digits, sinking deeper into his hole as the bigger dog spread his fingers apart. His rim felt stretched beyond what was possible, to a point he never thought reachable. But it was only when this thought came across his mind did he realise that whilst this felt like he was being overly stuffed, then how would he feel with Tyson plunging deep into his guts with the far larger real deal.

No sooner had that image struck him did he feel the Rottweiler pull his paw free from his ass. There was a moment's pause before it returned momentarily, three fingers pressing into the now open hole and cupped together, acting as a makeshift funnel. Arthur heard the bottle squirting again, more lube being pumped into Tyson's paw. His trough with his paw suddenly made sense as he felt more cold goo sliding down into his hole, disappearing deeper into his guts to be made use of later. The paw was removed, and then he waited. It seemed like an age, listening to the creaks of the bed, the sounds of panted breaths, the lewd squelches as the Rottweiler applied more helpings of lube to his palm; what topped it all off though was that all-consuming noise of slick gloop being stroked over what had to be an enormous shaft. Arthur could picture it in his head, that thick spire of flesh just posed above his rump, ready to sink deep into him. The mattress squeaked once again, the frame of the bed cracking beneath the combined weight of the two of them, as Arthur felt the bigger dog sidle up to his ass.

A wet splat of meat landing against Arthur's cheeks sounded sharp in his ears. His eyes went wide, his breathing rapid and shallow, as he waited. He could feel the fat cock throbbing against his rear, its weight sitting rather comfortably over the contour of his ass.

"You ready?" Tyson asked it softly, almost like he was wary of the answer. Arthur just gave him a confirmed grunt, pushing his ass back against the member, hot-dogging the cock.

The Rottweiler shifted his weight for the final time as he drew his hips back. Closing his eyes, Arthur felt the thick tip of the head press against his hole. Immediately he could feel himself stretching open again, the three fingers doing little to help the initial entry; the first inch was painful, making the Labrador whimper and squirm as Tyson pushed forward with firm pressure. He held the dog down with one paw, gritting his teeth through the obvious pain. Arthur would thank him later for not taking it slow, for not backing off when he'd started to writhe about, because once the first inch popped in, it all took off.

It slid inside him with a sudden lurch, the meaty cock slipping inside until it settled. Tyson gave out a loud moan as Arthur's hole clamped around his shaft, simply holding himself there as the Labrador grew accustomed to the throbbing flesh that was impaling him. Arthur was winded, pillow clenched so tightly he feared he might rip the covers, his body shivering and shuddering as it tried to process the feelings. He felt full. Too full, and hot. Like something was burning in his guts. He had no idea if he was damaging something down there, or whether it was just his body's way of protesting to the abuse. He didn't know. All he could think of was taking more. His cock strained against the sheets as he felt that member pulse within his ass, though it probably was only the smallest portion of what had to be a lot more to go. He did his best to calm himself down, to try and relax, but it was slow going.

Tyson, once he was happy that Arthur had had enough time to get acclimatised, began to push forwards once more with an easier strength. It was by no means a walk in the park, it still felt incredibly alien and bizarre to the smaller dog, as the dick within him seemed to only get thicker the more that was stuffed inside. It was like the tapered head was spreading out to the thickness of a can, and then beyond. It wasn't long until Arthur was begging to just to be at the end of the cock, to feel the fur of Tyson's crotch grind against his cheeks and his balls tapping against Arthur's own; but several more seconds past of that slow push, more meat being fed into his stretched hole, before finally he felt the bump of tell-tale flesh. Tyson's knot bulged against his engorged rim, its magnitude pushing up to him like it wanted to be so badly inside him, swelling up and locking them together. He felt stuffed, bloated and full. The pain still lingered, but now there was a growing pleasure coursing in his abdomen. The fat cock pressed against all his walls, buried so deep inside him that he swore he could feel the head prodding at his stomach, and it felt overwhelming good. That sweet spot inside him was being crushed and ground up, as every little slight movement caused the large behemoth now filling out his depths to twitch and slide about. It left him breathless and delirious, wishing those tiny motions would do something greater than just tease him.

"Just let me do the work, pup."

He didn't try to argue with the Rottweiler as he suddenly felt suction upon his guts. Tyson drew back his length slowly and carefully, with surprising delicacy until his head slipped free of the hole. Arthur felt the cock then get refed back into him, the tip pushing open the gaped rim until it was plunging back inside him. He couldn't help but let out a staggered moan, his voice blended between discomfort and bliss. It was hard to decide whether what he was feeling was truly uncomfortable or whether it was just euphoria in disguise, tormenting his innards as Tyson reworked them with his shaft. The Rottweiler had one paw placed about Arthur's shoulders, pinning the smaller dog down with his weight, whilst the other balanced him out on the mattress so that he didn't crush him. But his power was thrown behind his hips, pulling to and fro as he levered his member into the Labrador. Arthur grunted each time he felt that cock poke deep within him in some particular way, that it jarred his guts and left him panting. Though the sensation of being fucked with such a dick was both incredible and wrenching, it left him with a growing pleasure that blossomed throughout his body. It started first with its origin, in his guts just behind the abdomen, but it grew and spread up through him, tingling along every sense and making his brain befuddled. It was difficult to concentrate, not knowing whether to just focus on his breathing or to zone in on the large tool tunnelling his insides.

Tyson was increasing his thrusts as he felt the Labrador get into the fucking, his hole throbbing and clenching about him in teasing grasps. Arthur felt him lean down, his stomach pressing up against the small of his back, as he began to settle into a stronger, more intense rhythm. His muzzle was inches from the back of Arthur's neck, his heated pants rushing against his ears as his hips began to make smacking sounds as they impacted upon his buttocks. Each slam brought a quiet yip and yap from the Labrador, his ass getting properly fucked now. He could only imagine how it must look from behind, a sight he'd thankfully never have to see himself, but he could wonder... It felt like a whole arm was sliding in and out of him, though it never changed its shape, merely flexed and pulsed within him. He could hear the slick, wet slaps above the sounds of his beaten cheeks, of hot meat ramming into his hole, churning his guts like a truncheon. Arthur was struggling just to pant, groaning and grimacing whilst he fought to let the pleasure take over.

"Oh fuck, I'm gonna breed you puppy..."

Arthur grunted, moaning out a response but it was beyond intelligible. It was just some mumbled nonsense, his lungs rasping for breath whilst his guts were ravaged. The Rottweiler was increasing his speed all the more, like he was rushing his pace towards something. It only meant one thing, obviously, but Arthur wasn't sure if he was prepared for such an act. Orgasm would mean taking the knot, tying themselves together by Tyson's endowment, and that thought scared him. But he had no means to protest, his ability to resist having been slowly worn away by the cock that thundered into his ass. He felt Tyson's arms wrap around him, digging under him against the bed before holding him tightly. A wet tongue licked along the side of his face, toothy nibbles creeping up his nape as Tyson tried to show some greater sense of intimacy. Though he was about to break the lasting virginity the Labrador had, he wasn't doing so in a casual sense. No, Arthur realised this was more than that. He was going to tear him wide open, seed him, and then he would be the Rottweiler's forever. There would be no question to it. That idea alone had Arthur shivering with fragile anticipation, his mood soaring as his prostate was ground away by the friction of the cock inside him. He panted and squealed until he couldn't hold back any longer and he lost it, his mind shrieking a frantic white behind his eyes,

"OHFUCKFUCKFUCK!" He cried out, screaming at the top of his lungs. It felt like his whole body was convulsing, his ass clenching in rhythmic time to the jolting of his cock. His balls surged with an ferocious heat, spilling their cum out between the sheets and his abdomen where the bloated mound of Tyson's cock continued to pummel him black and blue from the inside. The pleasure refused to stop though, as the Rottweiler rallied his strength for the final deed, and it made Arthur whine out in post-orgasm torment, not sure whether to enjoy the frayed feelings or to fight against them.

"Just... a little... more..." Tyson panted, hammering with all his might against that tight hole. He wasn't even sure if his knot could break down a virgin's entrance on the first try, but he was determined to at least give it a go before he came. Arthur was buckling against the pressure, his body shivering from the sheer exterion of his climax, trembling against Tyson's' sweaty chest. All the big dog could do was hold him tighter and pound away harder, hoping that soon he could give the Labrador his chance to calm down. He gritted his teeth, as he felt a boiling heat sparking in his loins, his knot throbbing as it so badly wanted to just explode and fill itself with blood.

But then it happened. So suddenly Tyson didn't even believe it himself, were it not for the piercing howl of Arthur. For the Labrador, it felt like his guts had just shattered into a thousand pieces, as he was fuller than he'd ever been before. It didn't even compare to how they had started out. It was like something had poured concrete into his guts and left it to set deep within his colon, his stomach feeling battered, his hole sore, and every fibre of him screaming for a moment's rest. That knot swelled to thrice its size, tugging at his hole as it locked them together. He grunted and moaned aloud, writhing beneath Tyson's body, his forehead burrowed against the pillow. Then he felt the flood hit him. It was as if he'd just burst the brooks of a dam, seed gushing forth like a massive tidal wave until it hit him. It surged into his ass in thick jets; one powerful spurt shocked him, as it was both surprisingly powerful and incredibly thick. The second was expected and perhaps slightly less prominent than the first, but they just kept coming over and over. Arthur lost count after he reached double digits, unable to care how much was being pumped into him. He was just waiting for the flow to abate, but it became impossible to tell. It was like his ass was bloated and swimming with Tyson's seed, sloshing about inside his plugged hole with nowhere else to go but deeper into him. Arthur's moans quietened as the Rottweiler's member relinquished its assault of cum, but there was no missing the stuffed and broken sensation he felt.

Tyson stroked the top of Arthur's head as he lay panting, sucking in sharp breaths as he recovered from the mind-blowing ordeal,

"Fuck..." he huffed himself, a ragged chuckle escaping his muzzle, "That was phenomenal pup... You were amazing..."

Arthur just looked up at him and smiled, still too tired to respond. He gave the Rottweiler a kiss upon his cheek because he couldn't bring the words forward to say. Without think, Tyson turned that little peck into something more intimate and passionate, claiming the Labrador's mouth once more with a lewd, messy kiss. They were far from trying to be coy or sexy anymore. Now they were just cuddling as any lovers might. The need for attention to detail was forgotten about,

"Just go to sleep pup, I'll be right here..." To make the point, Tyson pushed his hips up against the Labrador's ravaged ass, his knot still far too swollen to remove. He wasn't even sure if Arthur heard him, as the dog's eyes had slid shut and a soft wheezing started from his nose. As Tyson listened closely, he swore the smaller male was so exhausted he'd just fallen into sleep, the fatigue have enduring such a fuck leaving it impossible to resist the clutches of slumber.

He passed out himself lying atop Arthur not soon after, a happy, cheesy grin plastered across his lips.

~ ~ ~

Arthur would have said he was having a dreamless sleep, were he awake and conscious of remembering the details of his dream. But it was bizarre. The very fact that he could acknowledge he was dreaming within the dream itself rang alarm bells in his head. Why he believed it to be dreamless then was what he felt was more pressing.

He found himself in a black void. He was floating absently, weightless and untouchable, surrounding on all sides by a vast consuming darkness that seemed to stretch on forever. There was no light, nothing to shine a path or cast a glow over anything, yet he could make out every detail of his body perfectly. He was dressed in what appeared to be a hospital gown, the back feeling exposed, the colour a gaudy shade between light blue and sea green with a rather sickly looking pattern to it. It made no sense to him why he'd be dressed in such a way, but it was undeniable what it was. Everything else about him appeared to be normal.

But being in the blackness threw his mind back to that terrifying moment in the police station's bathroom, where the mirror had replaced itself with something uncannily similar to what he experienced now. Arthur assured himself it was just his memory turning a peculiar event that struck out as perhaps the oddest thing to happen to him on an already freakish day into a vivid dream. After such a tiring way to end the day especially, it seemed only logical that his mind would absently throw him back to some recent memory that plagued his curiosity.

Once he made the connection though, that very same green dash appeared once more. No matter which way Arthur tried to turn his head, it was always facing him, always within his line of sight, at exactly the same position as it had been before in the upper left corner. It blinked at him, just as it had in the bathroom, and he waited once again to see what it might attempt to tell him now. Seconds passed where it did nothing, simply content to sit their within his gaze and flicker away. He tried calling out to it, but he had no voice. No sound came out. Though it may be his own dream, Arthur wondered why he lacked so much control over his surroundings, especially if he was in some kind of semi lucid state. But he could neither wake himself up nor change anything around him. He was forced to remain stuck as he was. It scared him, a little, though he wasn't yet at the point where things had begun to feel truly out of the ordinary. He would rouse from sleep eventually. He just had to keep telling himself that...

Suddenly, the cursor shot off just as it had done before, and once more letters began appearing behind it. Arthur paid close attention to what they had to say.

Activate operational interface.

That was a little different to before - whilst not wildly separate from the first time he'd seen this happen, it wasn't the same. Did that mean anything? He couldn't think why the difference would be note-worthy. It seemed rather insignificant. But then again, he couldn't understand what had first happened in the bathroom, so why should now be any different. All that struck him as peculiar was that his dream was not following what he remembered. It was crafting something new for him.

Accessing mainframe...

Deactivating safeguards: support v/ drive subroutines have been disabled.

Arthur didn't have a clue as to what any of that meant. It seemed terribly familiar to him though, but he couldn't for the life of him know why. It was just gibberish, as if he were attempting to read in some foreign language he'd never seen before. Certainly, it was his tongue, but it made no sense. Someone might as well have picked all the words from a book and thrown them across a page in some scattered, discordant nonsense and it would be the equivalent of what he was seeing now, floating in bright green letters across his field of vision.

V/ drive connection reset: would you like to proceed? Y/N

The Labrador barely had a chance to ponder what the text was saying now before he felt the air get sucked from his lungs, choking on nothingness whilst the vacuum crushed him. His mind suddenly exploded, like a migraine had developed within the fraction of a second, and he doubled over in unimaginable pain. Everything burnt with a horrible intensity, his blood feeling as if it were literally boiling within his veins, until finally his brain gave up the struggle for consciousness and snuffed the light behind his eyes.

Minutes passed where he truly wondered if he had been killed, that he'd just collapsed or simply died in the middle of his sleep, but it was only when light hit his eyelids and the rush of familiar cold dusty air hit his senses did he jolt awake.

His eyes snapped open, his breathing ragged and startled, scanning his surroundings and looking out upon an old, disused railroad track. His paws felt around his environment, finding himself to be sat upon a rather rickety wooden bench, a bench he swore he remember with stark clarity.

Arthur rose from his seat and stumbled around, taking in the all too familiar scene of the platform, panicked questions screaming through his mind as to how he got here, why he was here, and what the hell was happening to him.