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"Give a Dog a Bon...er"

by The Dove

The telltale din of mechanical buzzing chirping from my alarm notified me it was time to get up. With a quick thrusting of my hand out from the sheets of my bed, I clicked the device to the "OFF" position and immediately snuggled back into the pillow. It was a weekend and I could sleep as long as I damn well pleased. No work, no obligations, absolutely nowhere to go in general. I was probably just going to lounge around all day. I pulled the cover tighter over my bare butt as I relished in the thought of a peaceful Saturday for a change. I didn't always sleep nude but when I did, I always seemed to sleep better and more soundly. Feeling the fabric of soft bedsheets against your skin has a certain quality to it that is hard to explain. As I lay there in bed, it began to dawn on me that, in reality, I did indeed have some obligations to fulfill. My mother and father were coming to visit next week and as much as I loved them, my mother especially was nothing short of analytical and anal-retentive about a clean house. What did they expect, though? It's just me living in a small, ordinary, suburban household in a just as small and ordinary neighborhood. How dirty could it possibly get? I mean God, I wasn't a kid anymore. Leaning up over the bed and across my room, I saw the haphazard pile of last night's office clothes spread across my drawer, a can of soda perched precariously on the end of the wooden set-up eating table (still equipped with a grease-coated plate of pizza leftovers from the night before), and a basket of old laundry piled up in the bathroom below the sink. Yeah... I could probably do a bit of cleaning. Then there was the trash that needed to be taken out and those letters I needed to write and.... Yeesh, guess I couldn't lounge around like I thought I could.

I threw off the covers and sat up as I gave myself a good morning stretch. Twisting my back side to side, I heard the popping sound of air in my back as I let out a relaxing sigh. There's always something satisfying about hearing the crunching and popping of your own joints. Damn, the weekends are just the best! Sliding my feet onto the floor, I pulled out some underwear, a pair of blue-jean shorts, and an olive green pullover before slipping on some sandals. After making the bed (somewhat haphazardly I admit), I quickly sorted out the colors of my laundry, took the basket into the hallway and plopped them into the washer before heading into the kitchen to prepare my morning coffee. As it brewed, I leaned on the tiled counter-top and looked out the kitchen window to see what was happening in the backyard. Mom always loved birds so I had a bird feeder placed out along the back gate. I always took great joy in seeing the feathered friends gather out there in the mornings. They grew on me and as time passed, I even purchased a concrete bath at the local garden retailer (for a clearance bargain of course!) for them to use. I chuckled at the thought of how I oftentimes took better care of them than I did myself or my own household.

Glancing past the goldfinch and cardinal having a morning meal together, I looked past the wooden fence of my back gate towards the sprawling garden next door. That was Mr. Samuel's property. He was a funny old gentleman and a very self-sustaining one at that. In the five years that I had lived in this neighborhood, not once did I ever see that man cross the threshold of his house with any foodstuffs from the store. All the foods he needed (I assumed his farm-owning granddaughter brought him some supplies from time to time when she visited him) were lovingly grown in the backyard. He made quite a buck from the local farmers market as well with his spaghetti squash, Roma tomatoes, and even some Concord grapes posing as high commodities in the community. I could see the frazzled hairs of the balding man walking down the back steps of his yard with a trovel and a green watering can. It looked like he was making his morning rounds in the garden. A few loud taps on my window elicited a waving response from the man as I waved back in turn.

The smell of fresh Arabica coffee tickled my nose as I turned to the cupboard and grabbed a mug. Taking a good sip of the brew, I reminisced about the times my father and I would sit up late back at the family house, sharing stories and him catching up on my life while we drank some fresh French roast together. Maybe the two of us could pick up the pace once more when he and Mom came to visit next week. Ever since he and my mother retired, they oftentimes went through bouts of loneliness and really pined to see me every now and then. Fortunately, the three of us all still lived in the same state of Kansas so traveling wasn't too much of an issue. Still, seeing as I was their only child, they wanted to spend as much quality time with me as possible. I pressed for them to get involved with their retirement community down in Topeka to help keep their aging minds occupied.

I heard the rumble of a truck outside as I walked into the living room, mug in hand, to see Janice from the post office delivering the daily post. I decided to go see what "lovely" items I could find in the mailbox today (i.e. bills, bills, and more bills) and headed out the door. What an absolutely wonderful morning it was. Standing out on the porch with my caffeine fix in hand, I lifted my nose up and smelled the fresh summer air, all mingled in with the ever-present aroma of grass clippings. Here I was, standing amidst a kingdom of suburban Americana. Every house, every street, every garage, even every whitewashed plank on the picket fences reminded me of and old early romantic comedy sitcom. It was peaceful, relaxing, and honestly, kind of motivating in a way. Witnessing all the busybodies in the neighborhood, the parents taking their kids to the school bus, and even Janice making her rounds up the street, it all filled me with a sense of motivation and determination in a strange, but nostalgic, way. A smile on my face, I walked down the driveway, past my gray Jeep Grand Cherokee (a gift from my parents following my college graduation) and out to the street where I opened up my mailbox.

Expecting to see the next dent in my wallet in the form of a payment notice in my box, I came face-to-face with a small envelope with the name Rocky written in a very fine cursive writing.

"Hmm, looks like someone sent me a letter."

It was always exciting to receive a letter as I didn't have many associates who did. The guys down at the office never sent anything except for the occasional drunken text via phone asking me to pick them up at the bar. That and my old high-school crush (I shivered at the thought of her and her seemingly endless letters that still sat unopened in the back of the underwear drawer of my dresser). Mom and Dad sent letters occasionally but their cursive wasn't as near as refined as this. Reaching into the back of the mailbox, I picked up the letter and headed back into the house to examine it more closely. I opened up my kitchen door and walked out onto the back porch where I sat down at a fold-up chair. Each letter of my name seemed perfectly traced and delicately crafted as the dark-red coloring of the ink etched its way across a teal-colored envelope. In the upper-right corner of the paid postage stamp, was a black canine paw print penned in black ink. I opened up the letter and unfurled the paper to see the same vibrant penmanship lining the page. It read as follows:

"Rocky,

I'm a free man! I've finally decided to settle down and retire from the whole shebang once and for all. I'm holding a summer barbecue luncheon this afternoon at 1:30 to celebrate. How about you bring your cards and we can have ourselves a good show of Rummy? No need to bring anything else, I'll take care of all the food. I've been perfecting a mesquite paprika rub lately and you've got to try it. It will really knock your socks off! Until then.

Humbly,

Fritz "Barkin'" Hollister.

P.S. I promise there will be ribs!"

It was interesting to receive a letter from Mr. Hollister. He never really struck me as the kind of man to write letters, let alone one to whip out some amazing penmanship like this. He and I spent a good amount of time together since he moved into the neighborhood. Well, I say moved when in reality, he summers here in Kansas and does a lot of traveling over in the United Kingdom. He's a very wealthy man and is affectionately known in some parts of Europe as 'The Dog's Best Friend". You see, Mr. Hollister is a very well-renowned dog breeder and his rearing of dogs among some of the most prestigious pedigrees from across the world have earned him quite a reputation, as well as a pretty penny to boot. I can't remember the first time the two of us met but I always found it odd how such an esteemed celebrity in the world of dog-breeding would choose such a normal, plain-as-day suburban neighborhood to make his summer home. Maybe he wanted the feeling of normalcy for a chance, a break from the stardom if you will. Additionally, I always found it slightly humorous how such an esteemed celebrity of such a career would be so... well, casual, so to speak.

According to his letter, though, it sounded like he was finally throwing in the towel on the whole breeding business. I guess once you get your fill of looking at canine penises and vaginas, coupled with the occasional artificial insemination, you want to call it quits after a while. Regardless, he was quite an enthusiastic man and I didn't see him much out of the house at all. After we met, the two of us hit it off pretty well. We always enjoyed playing a good card game or two over at his house or mine. He didn't speak much of his family and mostly what he did speak of were the genes and different morphological attributes of the various dog breeds he had raised in his time. I always kind of just smiled and nodded. Hell, I had no idea what he was talking about but he was good company regardless. Come to think of it, I didn't really have many friends in the neighborhood besides him. Well, there was Mr. Samuel and his menagerie of crops but other than that...

As if on cue, I heard the sound of a bell ringing as a door opened in the backyard adjacent to Mr. Samuel's house. Of course, I couldn't forget her. Standing up, a toned red-haired lady, her long strands of hair reaching down to right below her shoulder and dancing and swaying in motion with her body, walked out onto the back porch of her house. She was wearing some track shorts and a t-shirt. She was barefoot, each toe of her delightful feet painted in a beautiful teal nail polish. How could I ever forget about Alex? She was simply the beauty of the neighborhood, hell, she was probably one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen in my life. And trust me, I've seen a lot of attractive people in my life, both women _and_men. I shivered in my chair as I felt my manhood rising to salute such a paragon of youthful virility. God, she was absolutely gorgeous. Alex was a teacher at the local elementary school, as well as a volunteer at a community-run gym. She was fit, toned, and sexy as fuck. I had only met her one time when I visited the gym for my membership program (and you can imagine how long that lasted). She was working at the front desk and I embarrassingly had to ask her how to work the treadmills in the back. She came walking out behind the desk and onto the floor of the gym in her uniform, her toned ass beckoning me to follow her like a dog. She had a good sense of humor and a kind smile (she was a teacher after all), but there was always a bit of a promiscuous side to her.

Alex sat down in a beach chair towards the back steps of her porch as she began to read over something in her hands. Then she set it down and picked up a small plate of food sitting on the table next to her. She turned to look in my direction as I suddenly darted my head down towards my lap and close to the envelope. Did she even know the two of us lived in the same neighborhood? I never felt I was very good with introducing myself to new people (I suppose Mr. Hollister was a good fit for an acquaintance as he did most of the talking for me, regardless of how much interest I showed in the subject) but she seemed just so, how should I say, out of my "league." But any way you sliced it, a relationship wasn't exactly the most prominent thing on my mind at the current moment. My work was the biggest concern in my life. My Bachelors in Performing Arts degree didn't exactly give me the best job after my graduation. Thespians aren't exactly the most in-demand service in our market economy unfortunately. With a sigh, I stood up and carefully crept back into the house without Alex seeing me. Maybe someday I could work up the courage to actually go out and see if she wanted to grab a drink or something. I always liked kids so maybe I could put my degree to use and put on a play for her homeroom class.

Following my little morning excursion, I decided to go about taking care of whatever chores or other cleaning necessities I needed to do before the luncheon at Mr. Hollister's at 1:30. I discarded my clothes and put on some old work pants and a paint-stained long-sleeve shirt before I got started. I figured cleaning the floors, scrubbing the toilets, and performing whatever other little nitpicky things my mother liked to see in a clean house would be a good investment of time. And hey, the more I scrubbed the grime and calcified rust from the interior of my shower, the more and more appetizing that mesquite paprika rub Mr. Hollister was working on began to tantalize me. I finished up my duties about 12:45. I had vacuumed every room in the house, cleaned the bathrooms, and tidied up the bookcase in the living room where I kept a lot of old family photos. I smelled a bit like overused house cleaner and dish detergent so I decided to hop in the shower. I got out, dried my hair, and put on my previous morning attire before heading into the living room to grab a couple decks of cards on my bookshelf. I turned off the lights in my living room, opened up the front door, and stepped outside to head to Mr. Hollister's. I was looking forward to a good time, not to mention the grub.

Mr. Hollister's house wasn't too far of a walk, of that, I was most thankful. From where I was situated at my house, Mr. Hollister's was just down at the end of the suburb, nestled at the far end of a cul-de-sac. Mr. Hollister's house itself was just as inconspicuous and unassuming as its owner. You'd never know the standard homeowner association-approved residence belonged to a world-famous dog-breeder. Perhaps Mr. Hollister liked it that way, unassuming and keeping people on their toes in guessing about his real identity, hobbies, and lifestyle. Being at the end of the cul-de-sac offered some nice benefits for Mr. Hollister. His property sported a little more than the average backyard acreage that most residents in the neighborhood were accustomed to having. This being a summer home and all, Mr. Hollister found it quaint and easily accessible. Although, some elements of his dog-breeding career were evident. During my visits to his place, I was well-accustomed to seeing the variety of canine-training props and other "dog playground" style hurdles, jumps, and chutes in his extensive backyard. In addition to his dog breeding, he found time to do some actual dog shows as well, hence the usage of so many different training apparatuses. He was involved in the Westminster and Eukanuba championships at one point but never placed in any major categories. He was a breeder at heart and not a showman. Still, he seemed to take a special interest in it. Oddly enough, every time I visited him, he never had any dogs with him. Even with all the equipment set up, I figured he would at least have a pooch or two around. Well, that was Mr. Hollister for you, keeping you guessing.

Stepping up onto the porch, I rang the doorbell. The telltale electronic sound of a bark emanated from the electronic sound box as I heard footsteps coming closer. Yep, a doggie doorbell; totally Hollister style. The door opened to reveal a wildly-curled, black haired man wearing some oval spectacles with a pullover shirt sporting a cartoon picture of a dog pushing a lawnmower on it with the words, "working like a dog" pasted along the top. Hollister looked as if he had just gotten out of bed. With his hair unrushed and the faint smell of what could be described as nothing less than the typical "wet dog" aroma, Hollister appeared more like he was recently tangling with animals all night long. Safe to say, he definitely looked the part for his career. A big toothy grin etched across the man's face as the familiar lisp of Mr. Hollister resonated in the doorway.

"Well ruh-roh, looked what the dog dragged in!"

And of course, how could I forget the cringe-inducing dog puns.

"Afternoon Fritz, how's it going?" I responded back with a smile and shaking of his hand while trying to prevent myself from rolling my eyes at his lame attempt at humor.

"I'm just dandier than a dandelion in late spring, I'd have to say! Come on in Rocky!" Fritz exclaimed as he began to whistle the theme from certain rags to riches boxing movie about an iconic Italian-American. With a large and heavy pat on my shoulder, some fine tufts of multicolored dog hair shook into the air with his motion.

Following Hollister into his living room, I was assailed by the constant aroma of what I assumed to be dog coat cleaner, shampoos, and an occasional scent of a dog food processing plant. You know how you sometimes drive down the highway and pass by a food plant and the fumes come wafting through your air conditioner? Yeah, just like that. Safe to say, it wasn't the most... comforting smell but today it seemed Hollister had been spraying and cleaning to alleviate the stench. I don't care how good his mesquite paprika rub for the food was, I don't know how many ribs I could stuff into my mouth if I smelled dog food wafting around. A guest to Hollister's house would expect the interior area of his largely unassuming house to be just as inconspicuous as the outside. There, however, you would be wrong. Imagine if you walked into a young child's bedroom, filled to the absolute brim with all sorts of paraphernalia and other collectibles of their favorite show, video game, or toy line; the colors of the room and the color scheme all reminiscent of their favorite colors. Imagine that, just with dogs.

From head to toe (or head to tail in Mr. Hollister's case), the living room and dining area were covered in what one would call a dog lover's kingdom. Dog clocks, paw-patterned sofa spreads, dog pedigree charts on the walls interspersed with large vinyl decals of paw prints and canine heads, even the typical "wipe your paws" welcome mat in the doorway, it all paid testament to a man who's level of eccentricity and mannerisms matched his passion for what he loved most. Setting my packs of cards on the table, I followed Hollister into the kitchen, the tile flooring colored in what I would say looked like the color of wet dog food and fresh grass clippings, a sickening coloration to me that almost made want to vomit at the very sight of it. Hollister was turning a few knobs on his stove as he was preparing some of the side dishes for the afternoon meal. His windowsill was opened partway, some fine fumes of charcoal smoke wafting through and giving off the hint of a campfire, mixed with the undeniable aroma of prepared meat. My mouth watered. Hollister turned to me with a dog-shaped oven mitt in his hand, his free hand poking a thumb up toward the open windowsill.

"Mmmm boy! Do you smell that good stuff? Been working on perfecting that rub for the last week now. Actually, I can't claim the original recipe for my own as it was a recipe I learned from one of my colleagues at a local dog show in Glasgow a few months ago. They said it had been passed down from the dog breeders of yore, When I heard it, I just knew I had to give it the ol' one-two punch and try it out for a run. After a few test samples, I found an even better way to showcase the flavor. You see, the paprika really helps bring out a lot of the condensed juices and moisture from the pork itself, while the mesquite sauce really soaks up the juices of fat while the cooking temperature..."

And he was off. The old Hollister rambling once more. Like I always did, I just smiled, nodded and complemented him whenever he stopped. He moved his arms wildly, making flamboyant gestures and pointing to different things in his kitchen. For all he knew, he may as well have been the next contestant on a Food Network completion rather than a regular at dog-breeding. Anyhow, I was here for the food. As Hollister began to talk about the quality of cast iron cooking pots and their relationship to optimal heating temperature, a mechanical "ding" from the oven resounded throughout the kitchen. Thank God. Hollister quickly turned his attention to the oven and pulled out a delicious-looking pan of cheese soufflé. Picking it up, he leaned his nose in close and took a deep whiff of his culinary creation, his eyes almost rolling back in what looked like an orgasmic response. Ushering me down the hall, all lined with prize-winning canines and framed ribbons of his past prodigies, I opened up the back door for him as we walked out into his backyard. I was certainly glad we wouldn't be dining in the house. It was a beautiful day and there's a certain nostalgia about having a barbecue party outside. Honestly, it should be a social faux pas if you don't!

Hollister's sprawling backyard extended out before me. All the chutes, dog hurdles, and other contraptions were all there just as I'd seen before. On the side of the house was a large wooden door engraved into the side of the house and angled into the ground and foundation of the house, no doubt leading down into the cellar. It was probably where Hollister stored all his dog food, shampoos, and other excess equipment when he was here in the United States. I suppose you have to keep all those goods moist. A cabinet near the cellar door had a small lock on it while a couple garden tools were neatly placed against the side. At the far back of the property, towards a small tree line bordering the edge of his chain-linked fence line (high enough to prevent some of the more agile specimens of his career from leaping out), a black charcoal grill was busy steaming. Along the back of the fence line were a couple of dog bowls and some leashes hung on some branches. Hollister walked over to a large picnic table beside the grill and set down his platter. The level of preparations and care that Hollister had taken to lay out all the napkins, silverware, sodas, water bottles, even some bottles wine (albeit cheap grocery brand but to me, wine was wine and a source of cheap intoxication at that) and cans of craft beer propped up in a cooler next to the table all paid testament to the nice little luncheon he had planned. Three dinner plates were situated at the table, one at the head of the end side of the table where a lawn chair had been folded up at the end and two other plates located at both bench ends of the table. I tilted my head in thought as Hollister went about poking and flipping over the slabs of meat on the grill.

I thought back to the letter I had opened this morning. I didn't recall Hollister saying anything about any other guests besides the two of us. Maybe he was having one his colleagues from the local animal group down in the city over for a meal. It wasn't really of any concern to me after all. I just wanted some good ol' fashioned home cooking. I'd be a fool to say no to free ribs. Since Hollister was busy, I figured I'd go ahead and seat myself at the table and wait for further instruction. It looked like we would be having a good meal today. In addition to the ribs and the freshly-prepared soufflé, I could see a small cocktail shrimp dish placed out, along with a few bags of chips. A tray of cookies and a half-dozen doughnuts in a box also provided a little extra sweetness to the whole affair. Sitting down at one of the sides of the table, I perused over the food selection. As I sat there thinking about the luncheon, I heard the sound of a doorbell resonating from the front yard and the same electronic barking sound of Hollister's door. I suppose the other guest has arrived. I leaned over the table and shouted to Hollister in the back of the yard. He looked at me, gave a quick thumbs up, closed the cover on the grill, and headed back into the house.

A few minutes later, I could hear the sound of laughs and chuckles coming closer to the backyard; the sounds of a man and woman. Hollister came walking out of the house and down the stairwell of the back door, following closely behind him was a woman dressed in a beautiful floral dress and easily delightful dress shoes. Her long winding red hair came twirling out of the house after her. It was Alex. My mouth dropped in awe as I realized that the other guest of our whole affair was her. I couldn't believe it, I would actually be sharing a meal with this beautiful gem of a woman. My face flushed red and my loins quivered as I quickly pushed down on my pants with my hand to conceal my budding erection. I wanted to truly make a good first impression this time; embarrassing boners and complicated treadmills would not factor in this time. As I stood up to greet the approaching pair, Hollister helped Alex down the stairs, taking her hand and preventing her from tripping with her dress. As I walked closer to them. Our eyes met. Alex's dark brown, almond-colored eyes opened wide as she realized the circumstance of our meeting.

"Rocky, I'd like to introduce you to Ms..." Stated Hollister as he gestured with his hand to introduce the two of us.

"Alex," I said as I finished his sentence.

"Why, um, yes indeed. You two know each other? Even better I dare say! Well, you lucky dog, you! I'll let you two catch up on old times while I get the ribs." Hollister exclaimed as he clapped his hands together with a nodding of his head, his toothy grin shaking and quivering in his excitement. He gave a quick wink at me as he all but trotted off to the back of the yard once more.

For a second, I couldn't really say anything. Alex was really standing here not two feet away from me. She smelled like fresh jasmine mixed in with a woody aroma of some herbal essence. She was so enticing and beautiful. She smiled at me once again as I reached out a nervous hand to properly introduce myself. However, she had the first word.

"Any treadmills for me to look at today, Mr. Rocky?"

Her quick remark was not curt or abrasive. It was kind, endearing, and also filled with a sense of humor and style that surely made her the love of the world to all her children at school. I looked at her and laughed. I told her that I did not and she laughed as well. Next thing I knew, she had reached out her hand to me. I looked at the smooth wrinkles of her skin for a second and looked into her eyes before her voice started again.

"Well, aren't you going to show me to my table?"

Surely I must have been dreaming. What chance was it that this woman would actually be here today? Mustering up my confidence, I swallowed and took her hand in mind. Her skin was soft and velvety to the touch; akin to a baby's hand. I walked her over to the picnic table and her place opposite mine on the other side. Asking her what she would like, I was surprised when she opted for a beer. I grabbed one from the cooler and snapped it open for her and sat down at my seat, grabbing a beer as well. About ten or fifteen minutes went by as the two of us made as much talk as we could. It would no doubt be awkward with Hollister in our midst and throwing in a corny, cheesy remark here and there. When I asked her who she knew our host, she explained that Hollister had come to talk to her class one time about taking care of pets. To my humor, he apparently left out the part of spaying and neutering their animals. She was surprised to learn that I lived in the same neighborhood as she did, as well as just how close I was to her. I had always thought for sure she had at least noticed me once during my backyard visits to see the birds but I was wrong. We also traded some quick factoids about ourselves, including our interests. I asked her about her work as a teacher and as a volunteer at her gym. All the while we talked, I couldn't help but occasionally glance over her figure and notice the slightly broad shoulders of hers, as the well-toned calf muscles of her legs when she stood up to get something from across the table. She giggled as I told her stories about my work down at the office and some of the shenanigans my coworkers and I got into. We were both laughing up quite a storm when a large stack of ribs was suddenly plopped down in front us. A very pungent, spicy, and aromatic aroma immediately assaulted our noses. Hollister stood proudly at the head of the table, his hands on his hips.

"Aren't they just the most B-E-A-Utiful slabs of meat you've laid eyes upon?" roared our host as he plopped down a rib rack onto each of our plates. Alex and I looked at each other, our eyes twinkling and our stomachs howling out for nourishment. Hollister put some on his own plate and then, our feast began.

As I expected, Hollister did most of the talking for a while. He chatted up quite a storm, asking Alex quite a series of questions about her work and what her interest in animals was as well as if she had any family in the area. Hollister could be a really nosy person at times, asking people about their family and their lives and whatnot. For some folks, it was probably a common courtesy but it clearly would rub others differently. Like myself, Alex was a recent college graduate and, unlike my theatrical pursuits, she had found work immediately in the urban district downtown as a homeroom teacher for a 4th grade class. The school she served at was one of those STEM schools (you know, those schools emphasizing science, technology, engineering, and mathematics) while she also helped out with the garden committee at the school itself. The school featured a community-built garden from a local environmental group at the same university I graduated from. The kids all loved growing their own crops and Alex picked up some pointers from old Mr. Samuel as well. It seemed she was a very active lady, both academically and physically, as indicated by her physique. The more she spoke about her pursuits and her achievements, the more infatuated I became with her. Honestly, I was okay with Hollister doing all the talking and asking Alex a million questions. The more she talked, the more I could admire her and revel in her allure.

As for the ribs themselves, they were absolutely to die for. I had never tasted anything like it. I told Hollister that since he was retiring, he should really look into cooking as a potential hobby for him. Hell, he could even consider coming out of retirement just to go into the cooking business. The mesquite paprika rub was unlike anything I had ever tasted. Every chunk of rib meat was like a bite of pure grilled gold. The meat simply slid off the bone into my mouth while the rub combined with the mesquite sauce created a taste that that was simply one you would have had to taste to experience. I could detect a few other hints of some herbs as well, such as rosemary, a heaping dose of pepper and another ingredient that was hard to decipher but had a faintly familiar smell. Regardless, the food was worthy of the Olympians themselves. Complimenting Hollister on his cooking, I asked him about his plans for retirement and his potential interest in going into cooking full-time.

"Oh my, my, I'd say I've had my fair share of traveling and working with dogs overseas. I've worked with so many different breeds and as many people as well that I really just want to focus on myself and my own interests. I must admit (as he said this he gave a sly smile towards the two of us) that I have indeed taken up quite an interest in the art of cooking lately. However, for now, I just want to relax, take some time off from all this show business of constant work and enjoy the normalcy a nice neighborhood like this can provide."

Hollister seemed content with his decision. It was nice to see him so happy. I'm sure he had quite a retirement fund from all the sales he had made with his animals. After swallowing another mouthful of the savory meat, I asked Hollister if he had any plans for dog-training as I pointed to the chutes and hurdles near the table.

"Well, I'd be lying if I said I didn't have any ideas. Alas, for now, they are what, I'd say, on the backburner for now."

With this, Hollister thrust a thumb back toward the grill and let out a roaring fit of laughter. Oh good lord, even at the table, Hollister couldn't keep his overblown sense of humor at bay. We continued to dine for another half hour or so. I must have eaten about two full helpings of ribs while Alex finished only around a quarter of her's. I was surprised at just how much Hollister had made. He was even kind enough to fill our plates when were finished, However, by the time I was starting on my third rack, I began to feel a little uncomfortable in my seat. I was beginning to sweat a lot. Admittedly, the sauce and rub on the food were spicy but my clothes were really starting to get a bit saturated. Looking over at Alex, I could see her secretly pulling at her bra straps underneath her dress as she pushed her hair back now and then. It seemed she was uncomfortable as well as I saw some droplets of sweat beading down her forehead and splashing onto her plate. I turned to look at our host as sweat began to pour down my head progressively faster and faster. He didn't seem to have a care in the world. He was just sitting there, watching up both with that goofy grin on his face as usual.

"Hey, uh, Hollister, you know, don't you think it's really getting kind of you... you know, hot out here?" I began to tug at my shirt collar and sat up to pull at my boxers through my jean shorts, all but sticking to my wet and moist rear. Alex began to breathe a bit heavier as she pulled her dress closer up her legs and shifted her legs bac and forth anxiously.

Hollister eyes opened wide and looked at us both.

"Why nonsense you two. It feels like any typical spring day here. I'd say you two are just being a bunch of... hot dogs!"

Again our host laughed and roared as this time he beat his fists down on the table, shaking his head up and down as his wild-eyed gaze shifted back and forth to each of us, looking for a positive reaction from his joke. I gripped my teeth and stood up at the table. I was getting tired of this. Dammit, I was really burning up and here Hollister was just going on with his fucking jokes and juvenile mannerisms!

"Hollister! I don't think this is funny. I'm really starting to burn up! It feels like my chest is on fire! I need to go inside and wash up right now!" I yelled as my breathing became heavier and heavier as I felt my muscles beginning to tense and clench.

Suddenly, the Hollister that I had known up to this very day all but disappeared. In a complete 360°change of pace, his eyes widened and stared at me. He shot up out of his chair, the force of his back leaving the seat causing it to all but flip over onto the lawn behind him. His face went cold and his lips pursed into a fine line of forceful determination. I took a step back as I was utterly shocked at his behavior. Alex began to stand up as well, exchanging fearful glances between the two of us. He spoke.

"Rocky, you aren't going anywhere. You are going to behave like a good doggie and stay right here."

I couldn't speak. Literally, I could not speak a word as fear clenched my heart at this sudden statement from who I assumed to be my friend. Alex stood up, pointing her index finger towards Hollister to yell. As her voice left her lips, Hollister cut her down with his own.

"Sit your ass down bitch! You better start acting like one because when I'm through with you, all you'll be good for is fucking like the whore you'll be!"

I watched in horror as Alex attempted to respond to Hollister. She tried to scream at him but all that came out was a whimper. This was not a whimper as if made by a human, but the sound of a woman's voice mixed the gruff sounds of some struggling animal. She clenched her hands to her mouth as Hollister moved to Alex's side with a speed I had never seen before. I lunged out at him and as I did, I felt the heat of my body reaching a crescendo. My muscles locked and quivered as I collapsed onto the lawn. Using what strength I still had, I lifted my head to see Hollister brushing Alex's hair as he began to whimper more and more. I tried shouting out to them both, but as I did, a welling in my chest and the feeling of what I only describe as my insides shifting and rumbling within me, eliciting the voice of a whimpering animal in me as well. I watched in horror as Alex began to slump to her knees, Hollister beginning to grope the woman and whispering into her ear.

"You want to be my good girl, don't you? Are you going to be my little bitch? My wet, horny little girl? You are going to be a fine specimen. I needed a new breeding combination. Such a pretty girl you're going to be. Such a beautiful bitch, full and pregnant with his seed."

As he said this Hollister, forced a wicked smile in my direction.

"You just sit there and be a good little doggie. I'll be with you in a minute".

My insides began shifting and changing as I felt hair covering my body. Using every ounce of my strength, I began clawing my hands into the lawn in my effort to drag myself closer and closer to the man who was assaulting this woman. Every instance of my dragging motions seemed to cause me more and more pain as I felt my nails extending and elongating, clawing into the soft ground. I was gaining ground on them regardless. I bit my teeth in frustration as I felt a warm, rusty taste in my mouth. My teeth extended into sharp fangs as droplets of blood dripped out of my mouth. In my struggle, I could see the colorations of Alex's floral dress beginning to shift in color as my world changed color. Alex began to stoop to the floor as she began to pant heavily. Her tongue was long and thick as it began to droop from her mouth. Hollister groped her breasts as she fell to the ground. Standing over her, Alex seemed to be in a trance as she sat there on the ground. Her hands appeared large and dark as she began to claw at her dress with her own elongating paws while her joints shifted as her digits became stubby and paw like. Hollister was complimenting her on her actions as he stood over her.

"Be my good girl. Good doggies don't wear clothes, do they?"

I growled. My joints were shifting as I felt my sandals sliding off my stretching legs. I could feel my nails plowing into the lawn, inching me closer and closer to Hollister. My mind became clouded, filled with anger and a primal sense of rage that was boiling up from the very core of my body and into my mind. Alex ripped off her dress as she began to cry and whine, an erotic moaning howl rising from her body. Her dress lay in tatters at her side as rows of pink fleshy nipples began to expand down her side. Her face elongated as her muzzle formed, her formerly beautiful teeth now sharpening into just as beautiful dog-like fangs. Her red hair began to grow all over her body, mixing with brown hues and colorations that spread into curly fur all over her body. The ripples of her fur spread down her belly and chests as large patches of white formed along her underside. Leaning over with a newfound dexterity, Alex ripped off her shoes and her socks, exposing her beautiful, teal-colored feet that were now undergoing a similar transformation to my own.

The carefully painted color of her nails began to chip and all but ebb away as a hard, keratinized surface of black began to pierce their way through her nails. Her tongue licked at her toes as a leathery surface of flesh expanded from the soles of her feet. Hollister leaned down and began to pet Alex on the head as she nuzzled her rough paw pads, fine tufts of red fur interspersed between her toes. She panted and whined as a bulge formed at the back of her panties. With a sudden, pop, a red-furred curly tail sprouted from above her ass and wagged furiously as her forming ears twitched in the spring afternoon. A residue was forming at the front of her panties, her red-colored pubes now billowing out past her groin, wet and moist with the essence of a bitch in heat.

I felt my form shifting further and further. While I watched Alex and continued my struggle to close the distance between myself and Hollister, I was unaware of my boxers slipping off my legs as my now almost-nude form shifted to a quadrupedal stance. I felt a pressure above my ass and I saw a rippling carpet of gray fur billowing out all over my body. Struggling to crane my emerging muzzle back behind my now quadrupedal paw-like feet, I saw a long gray and dark brown tail flowing out behind me. I whined in pleasure at not only the sight of my tail blossoming from my tailbone but at the feeling of my penis shifting and molding. Looking down, I witnessed my member twisting and softening into a pink fleshy cock surrounded by a similarly gray furred sheath with a furry knot at the base. It began to swell and pulsate as small droplets of clear residue began to form at the tapered tip. The sensation captured me as I rolled over onto my side, my paws splayed in front of me as my underwear slipped down my legs and dangled off my paws before reaching the ground. Thrusting my paw up to my face, I saw pink, leather fleshy patches of skin forming around what used to be my palms, all the while my thumb began to slide and slither down my paw, forming a minuscule dewclaw at the sand. It horrified me at what I was becoming and as I saw it, I lost all attention from the changes happening to Alex.

"What the fuck is wrong with my hand?"

I tried with all my might to talk as any normal human could but before I could elicit my next sentence, my speech turned to shouts of low barks and howls. Amidst the shifting sensation of my furry ears, as they moved up my head, I could hear Hollister from the other side of the table. His words were not directed just to me, but to Alex as well.

"Quit whining. It's temporary. For now..."

There was a joyful glee in his voice as the wildly haired visage of Hollister appeared over the picnic bench, his tongue licking his lips as his toothy grin chattered back and forth. My mind was losing focus. I was feeling a primal sense of need and sexuality surging within me. My mannerisms were being high-jacked. I felt myself becoming dumber, wilder, and more carefree. My knot and dick were pulsating. My tail curled up between my furry loins, touching the edge of my member as it pulsed more and more. Suddenly, I felt a burst of strength entering my body as my joints seemed to suddenly come to a halt as the transformation completed. My mind slipping and becoming that of the animal I had become, I rose to my paws, I hastily crept around the side of the table, my head lowered to the ground as I stalked my prey. Turing the side of the table, I could see a strange man inspecting the body of a husky. She was sprawled on the ground and lying on her back, her furred paws flicking up in the air. She was panting heavily as six rows of teats perked up erect from her chest. My member pulsated and throbbed, leaking and dripping down my sheath as I saw my mate. The man was pulling apart her vagina and inspecting her vulva with his hand, eliciting a moaning whimper from the bitch.

"Oh yes, you are a good girl. You are in excellent health too. Looks like it was a success. My little girl, you are ready for breeding".

My rage intensified as I saw the human violating what was rightfully mine. I bent my rear legs and rushed the man, sinking my teeth into his leg. He screamed before spinning around and giving me a hard punch on the nose, eliciting a whining yelp from myself. My mate lay there, still pointing and flailing her strong paws in the air. Her ass was facing me with the innards of her anus flaring in and out as she released the heat building within her. A small fragment of my resurging humanity came back to me as I remembered the woman I wanted to protect. Racing to her side, I growled at the man who was moving his hand up to her teats.

"You just sealed your fate, whelp. I am now strongly reconsidering the temporary nature of your new form. Bad dogs like you deserve a lifelong punishment of bickering and whining as you sit at my feet, licking the master who owns you. You and your bitch."

The humans stared at me with wild, uncaring eyes as he glanced menacingly at my mate. His eyes were the eyes of distrust; the eyes... of a demon. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a brass collar, grabbed my muzzle and threw it around me. Pinning me to the ground, he pulled a long lead out as well and wrapped it around me as he pulled tight, almost choking me. I snapped at him with every ounce of strength my body could muster. My fangs grazed his arm but he pinned me down, uncaring.

"You'll be a fine sire to her. A strong German shepherd and a beautiful red husky. Such a fine combination for birthing a litter of pups."

The human's words were lost on me as he held my nose down to her vulva. It flared back and forth as her lips seemed to invite me in. My humanity once more slipped away, along with any semblance of my former life as a man. My long moist nose pressed down to her equally moist slit whole the scent of her juices and pheromones overpowered me as I probed around her fur with my nose. Extending my long, thick tongue, I pushed my muzzle slightly into her vagina as I licked the edges, savoring in the salty essence of her form. My member became hotter, pulsating and dripping with precum as the human let go of me, allowing me the freedom to give into my bestial desires. I crawled onto the bitch's chest, her teats brushing against my loins while my dick left a trail of juices along her thighs. I leaned in closer to her face. Her beautiful muzzle was wet and rough as I licked it. I wanted to fuck, to breed, to feel myself inside of her as she gave birth to my litter. Our eyes met as large, almond-brown eyes looked into my own. Her forepaws quivered and shook as I leaned over and sniffed her pads and licked them, the aroma of grass and musk emanating from her paws. She licked my ears as I began to whimper. She did as well as I shifted my body off of her. The human merely stood back as I gave into my drive. She rose to her paws as I lifted her tail with my nose, smelling her anus and her vulva once more. Slowly, her large curly tailed lifted further on its own as I reared up on my hind legs and thrust myself forward onto her back. It was time to breed.

My nails delicately balancing on the grass below me, I jabbed at her backside with my penis in an attempt to find its home. She began to nip and snap at my leg as my struggle continued. After a few thrust, I felt a warm sensation as the target found it's marked. Slipping inside her, I felt the caverns of her vaginal walls comforting and surrounding my dick, embracing it and coating it with a slippery wet film. I felt the pressure building in my loins as my already unsheathed member began to swell even further, along with my knot that blocked the entrance of her inner sanctum. I began to thrust as my mate whined and moaned. My mind raced as I thrust harder and faster, my tongue lapping at her back and nipping at her sides. My pressure building, I whimpered as my seed filled my mate.

Behind the two canines, the towering visage of a dog breeder loomed over the animals, their hearts muddled in ceaseless fucking. A wide smile on his face, the previously retired dog breeder now stepped towards the cabinet of his house, two leashes in hand as he unlocked the door, reached inside, poured the rest of his half-used bottle of paprika into the open bag of dog food, grabbed the bag and gave it a hearty shake before locking the door behind him as he set about the preparations for his next guests. A dog breeder's work was a hard one indeed. One couldn't exactly have two screwing animals around for a barbecue dinner party, could he?