Lucky Thirteen: Happy Birthday Boston
Lucky Thirteen: Happy Birthday Boston
The old utility van rolled through the grimy streets of a suburban neighborhood. Fences toped with barbed wired and lined with signs warning of guard dogs ran along each side of the street, almost resembling some large housing-based prison. The old border collie driving the van scanned the sidewalks on this Sunday morning, looking for something in particular.
He took these trips increasingly often, yet this was a very special day. His son was turning thirteen, and unfortunately the young pup did not have any friends to celebrate with. He was home schooled and due to his mother walking out on him, Daniel Travis senior was his son's only companion. He had at last become a young boy and stopped carrying that plush dog of his everywhere; however he had taken up the imaginary friend's name, stating it was "Cooler sounding."
'Boston' as he preferred to be called now, was at home waiting on his father to get back, acting like he wasn't wanting a present as usual. The old dog grinned and slid his glasses back on his muzzle, letting them rest in a crease of fur to hold them there for a bit. "My boy is going to be so happy with me." He licked his fangs and gripped the steering wheel, excited as he hasn't been in some time.
A pair caught his eye, standing out in a more commercial street with diners and stores lining the sidewalks. The two canines walked into a bagel shop, the old dog in the van smiled and gulped. He pulled into a parking spot.
The young teenage husky stood idly by his dad, arms crossed indignantly. Red fur with a small bit of spiking to his headfur held up with gel, a punk band t-shirt and blue jeans complete with studded belt. The pup dripped with all the angst and attitude of any 14 year old.
He was perfect.
Daniel Travis stood in line behind the two, building his courage, he coughed loudly. Watching closely as the older husky turned around inquisitively, he saw a crucifix around the dog's neck. Bingo.
The black and white dog stuck out his paw quickly and introduced himself. "I'm sorry, my name is Bernard Phelps. I hate to be an intrusion, but my boy and I just moved to the area and, well, we kind of are looking for a new congregation to join." The old dog looked sheepish.
The red husky smiled and shook the paw after a moment. "No trouble at all, friend! I'm David Hawthorn. Welcome to the neighborhood! Yeah, buddy I'd love to bring you by the church next weekend!"
Daniel Travis Senior sighed in relief, and before long the two were chatting over bagels and coffee. The pup, apparently named "Keith" was staring out the window and listening to a music player.
"Look, I have a favor to ask. My boy, he is thirteen today. First year without his Mother and he has no friends to spend it with. I was hoping you might.." He eyed to the young husky. "Maybe bring Keith over to play for a bit? Help him celebrate. He needs friends here."
The husky sighed and chuckled. "Well that's easier said than done." Lowering his voice after sipping his coffee, he continued. "Getting that kid to do anything is like pulling teeth out of a jellyfish."
"Would it help if we live right outside of town, and my son has two dirt bikes and gear?" The dog grinned at the husky.
"HAH! Now I'M interested."
The three canines rolled up in their two vehicles. Keith had been quick to agree when he was told there would be dirt bikes, although he still managed to maintain his pissed off demeanor.
Daniel opened the garage to show the two huskies the dirt bikes before running inside, telling them that he would go get Daniel junior.
Daniel called out to his son, hearing the patter of soft paws coming down the stairs he grinned and blurted out so his small son. "I got you a husky."
Boston stared up at his dad, lifting one eyebrow quizzically. He wore jeans, black boots and a plain black t-shirt. "A.. Husky, dad?"
The old dog put his paws on Boston's shoulders. "He's only a year older than you. You should have no problem. Remember, only in the garage and close that thing quick." He licked his son's nose happily, wagging his brushy black tail.
The pup's blank stare at his father made his dad's wagging slow to a less excited pace, the boy still would not forgive him. "What about his folks?" His son asked.
"His father is with him in the garage. I'll show him my tools and do it in the basement. Have fun, Son, ok? Be careful."
The older collie stood and motioned his pup to follow, shooting him a sly grin that Boston would one day himself inherit.
Daniel Travis senior escorted his new 'church buddy' to his cellar, promising 'a man's dream land.' They left the two teenage pups in the garage to warm up the bikes and put on their gear. Boston laid out the gear in silence, noting the husky's similar uneasiness, he spoke first.
"My name's Boston." He stated, turning around to talk to the other dog.
"I thought your dad said your name was Daniel." The husky stood cross armed, looking unimpressed.
"Oh, yeah. He calls me by my middle name; it's the one he chose." The border collie forced a small wag. "You have to see this motor, come here!" The pup pulled on the throttle a few times on the now steadily idling bike to grab the other dog's attention with it's sharp, raspy note.
The collie tried to not look impressed, but loud noises and puppies are like mosquitoes and light bulbs. The older dog leaned over to admire the 250cc Enduro bike, and nice Italian model that must have cost a fortune. The seat was so tall as well. Too tall for a pup.
The husky slowly craned his head to the left in time to see a shortened plank of wood smash into the side of his face and muzzle, throwing his vision into a blur. Keith could not even tell if he was standing as he held against the work bench next to the bikes. The young husky threw his arms back to try to grab the smaller pup that had jumped onto his back, holding a damp, putrid smelling cloth against his gasping snout.
Boston wrapped one leg around the inside of the husky's leg and holding his neck in one arm with his other paw keeping the soaking wet wag on his nose, yanked the dog sideways, throwing him to the ground and squeezing the air from his lungs as he straddled the dog's back.
Keith watched his blurry vision fade to black as well as the ringing in his ears ceasing shortly after.
The husky's eyes began to twitch and his breathing became noticeable. His head was swimming, foggy and ached something awful. He tried forcing his eyes open but could not. The dog began to panic before realizing that he could feel cloth against them. He quickly closed his eyelids again from the material. He sniffed at the air but could only smell chemicals and gasoline.
The motorcycle, the border collie.
The plank of wood. The struggle. Now Keith remembered, and with the memories came clear thought. The pup tried to yell for his dad, for help, yet he found no voice upon exhaling. Must be some other drug that damn border collie pup gave him!
His limbs and chest and neck and head and muzzle and every other part he could name was sore as if he had been beaten. He felt cold and he shivered. The material binding his upper arms and thighs down were itchy as well as his blindfold. He let out a desperate silent whimper, hearing a small hiss.
He jerked his limbs finding pain meeting him, forcing his chest to heave in a sharp intake of breath. This led to another twitch, and more pain. The pup shivered and let himself go limp.
He was scared. He wanted to go home. He wanted to call for his dad. He could do none of these things and it terrified him.
A small voice made his ears perk. The voice matched the perky little shit who clubbed him and apparently stomped him. The tone however, was now nervous and shaky. A bit of excitement noting into it made the husky pull back his lips in a snarl.
"Keith. It's me, Boston. I didn't know how to finish, you know.. So I waited until you were awake. It's been four hours already and I'm sure my dad is already done with your dad."
Keith heard the pup crouch next to him on the concrete floor. He tried to move yet again and winced.
"No, No, don't do that, Keith. You've lost a lot of blood already."
Keith shivered. His fur stood on end, but his whole buddy stung as it did. He felt cold again.
"I didn't know what to do I've never had this much time before now. I ended up, just kind of using what I could find and, well. I always wanted a real dog but my dad thinks it's degrading to have a pet of one's own species. He's a bit old fashioned."
The calmness of the one way conversation chilled Keith even more. He wondered why his tail wasn't bound. He still couldn't move it. Drugs? His head was still a bit drifty but he thought it was the beating.
Boston pulled the blindfold off gingerly, coming into view. He wore a curious look, and sat Indian style in front of the husky. Keith was obviously on the ground, tied up and eyeing the border collie down a shaved muzzle.
Keith's eyes widened as he realized he had been shaved! He bared his teeth in a snarl at the collie, holding his footpaws like a little dork. If he hadn't cheap shotted him, the husky could have destroyed the runt!
Boston's eyes were roaming over the dog, taking him in. "You came out a bit rough but not too bad. What do you think?"
The little border collie pulled a hand mirror down from the bench he sat before, and held it up to Keith.
In the reflection, with Boston's approving smile as he took in the dog's reaction, Keith could not even tell what he was looking at for a moment. The bare, grayish skin mottled and wrinkly. Muzzle broken, shattered with missing teeth. In fact, he couldn't feel his muzzle but all the teeth were gone as he felt with his tongue.
The young teenage pup puked, his guts heaving up their bagels. The chunky fluid never reached his muzzle. He felt a cold, wet feeling down his neck and chest. Boston angled the mirror more, showing the husky his lower portions.
His throat was torn open, folded back to expose his throat. He could breath, he could even have eaten processed foods. But he would never again walk. Not like a person. His arms and legs, hacked at the knees and elbows respectively were wrapped tightly in red, soaked through plastic cling wrap as if meat in the refrigerator.
"I don't know why, I just needed you to see what I did. I can't keep you after all." Boston set the mirror down, Keith getting one final look at his broken, crying face before seeing the immense puddle of blood below him momentarily as the mirror clacked quietly on the floor.
"I do know what I've wanted to do for a long time, and this is awkward. I just have to show you I think."
The little black and white collie stood up and kicked off his boots. He pulled his pants and boxers down, and tossed them and his shirt to the side, over the dirt bike they were looking at.
"I wanted to be sucked off while I kill someone. And I thought about it a long time. So I figured it out. Break the jaw, open the trachea, and remove the teeth. "
Boston was stroking his sheath, working the young dog meat into thickening and emerging. He used his free paw to roam over the older pup's sides and let out a soft moan. "That feels so weird." The terrified, shivering dog stared into the collie's eyes, enraged that this fucking sicko would not even look back in his eyes.
Daniel 'Boston' Travis, thirteen, kneeled in front of his first true victim, alive and with all the time in the world. Something he would find hard to achieve later. The pup held the husky's slack, broken jaw, dried blood caking the thin black lips and chin, and slid his young puppy cock into the warm, soft orifice.
Pressing the lower jaw closed on himself, the border collie pushed his puppy hood past the fighting tongue, and squeezed his own shaft with the husky's wounded muzzle, squeezing fresh blood around his member from the holes. Boston moaned loudly and panted, closing his eyes and letting his tongue hang loose.
"Ohh.. Wow.." The pup exhaled in delight at the warm blood swelling over his member and dripping down his black fur on his thighs and balls. He began a slow humping into the dogs muzzle, opening his eyes to look down at his work from this view.
He watched the husky, shaved and grey. Legs and arms tied into proper position, all fours, and shortened to a correct length. Boston wagged as he watched his member sink in the complacent, still muzzle. He felt the tongue work his shaft in protest, yet it felt as good as a tongue trying to please. The blood squished in the empty sockets as his thickening knot pushed over them with plenty of room now.
The husky's rump, Boston was disappointed with. He got a bit too carried away and hacked it off altogether. He now wished he had shaved it like the rest, turning the fluffy curled thing into a wrinkly snake seemed oddly tempting. He eyed the cast of tail among the other limbs. Pulling it out from under a nicely shaped footpaw, the border collie held the limp, cold thing in his paw and rubbed it over his neck and muzzle, murring at the still fresh scent.
The dog bellow him wheezed out it's neck hole as it was panicking again. The twitching throat and tongue teased his tip and knot, the swelling cock now squirting its lubricating pre freely in jets as his orgasm quickly built.
Boston wasted no time.
"Sorry, Keith, I'm cumming." The collie panted and retrieved an automatic folding knife from his pocket and with a sickening flick, opened it with one black finger and dragged the razor sharp edge deeply across the bare skin of the husky's neck. The arteries severed deeply, blood shot out of the paniking puppy, quickly draining him of his remaining strength and willpower.
Boston felt the edge sink deep as he pulled it across the flesh, He felt the spasm of the entire animal below him as he opened those life sustaining tunnels of red. He Pushed his knot into the lips of the husky roughly and held him there, the dog gasping for breath and only managing a gurgling wheeze as blood flowed down his neck, filling his own esophagus. The red furred pup's eyes grew bleary once again and the room even colder. His eyes drifted up to the smiling puppy above him, hearing an echoing, distant.
"Good boy!" Whole his muzzle tasted salty and pungent. His vision faded into a tunnel, ending in the border collie's eyes.
Boston felt the pup go limp as he was orgasming, the timing was perfect, and the shaking he felt in his knees, was nearly painful. His cock twitched, bulging the lips of the broken, dead husky below him around his knot. The cold, drying nose was pressed deeply into his crotch fur, against his sheath. No breath came from the dog, No tongue fought his cock.
After a few moments of panting, taking in the scene below him, Boston fell back against the tool bench, clashing the tools on it loudly. He watched the dog, head hanging limp now on the little wooden trestle he made to hold Keith up. Cum, blood, and other things dripped from various parts of the young, shaved husky. Boston held the tail to his chest as he regained his breath. He wished he could keep just the tail..
Boston sat there against the tool bench for what seemed like hours. In fact after only5 minutes, his father knocked quietly on the door from the house to the garage. "Boston? You done in there?"
The pup felt odd about not getting nervous, sitting here covered in another pup's blood who he had just raped and killed at the same time after hacking to pieces. "Yeah, Dad! Come on in." Unashamed at his nudity, dad had seen him naked many times.
The older border collie stopped in his tracks, staring at the work of his pup. "B-.. Boston.." Was all the dog could get out. His eyes were wide and his muzzle agape. He stared at the pile of discarded limbs and paws. He looked down at his naked son, covered in blood and his little red cock flopped against his side.
Well at least his son could hold a knot, he thought proudly. The collie turned around and looked at the boxes against the wall, turning back the his young, naked son and smiling.
Boston was still a bit worn out, and narrowed his brown eyes at his father. "What, Dad?" he asked flatly.
"Well," Daniel Travis senior slapped his paws together. "Boston my boy, I'm giving you something that you will use only sometimes, only seldom. And then keep hidden. I mean hidden enough it will be safe in 15 years, you hear me?"
"A sports car?" The sarcastic pup smirked.
"No, dumbass. A video. A video of your first kill. None will be like this again." The border collie stared into his son's eyes seriously. "This will help sometimes, trust me."
Boston only nodded.
The two huskies lay neatly together in the garage. They had been posed for pictures when The killer collies had a few beers. Daniel Travis figured if his pup could drive, and could kill. He could drink.
Sometimes.
The older Husky, David, was bent over his son's mutilated doggy-positioned body. The old dog's forehead was caved in apparently with a ball peen hammer and bits of skull, fur and brain matter lay shallowly in the sticky cavity. The husky's tongue was swollen and purple, sticking out from his teeth where he had bit it and locked his jaws.
The young Keith lay limp, stiffening in that loose, peaceful form with his jaw agape almost looking as if in pleasure from his father's sheath pressing against his bare, tail-less rump.
Laughter, followed by a party favor being blown in it's shrieking, annoying sound drifted in from the house through the open door. In the kitchen, Boston sat on the kitchen counter, still naked and coated in dried blood which was crumbling out of his fur in rusty powder. He was good and drunk by now for not the first time, but the first with his father.
The old dog was dancing around in his boxers, the alcohol making the room seem hotter than it was. He was holding one of the husky pup's arm and re-enacting some school yard fight he had as pup.
Boston smiled, watching his father, yet too inebriated to really hear the story. He thought that he could now understand what his dad was. Why he did what he did.
Now he could see why the old dog was trying so hard to be so nice to him. He was sick, and he found what made him better. Boston looked down at his dangling black-furred footpaws and let out a soft sound involuntarily, a little whimper he wished he had quelled.
A red furred arm and it's small paw fell on Boston's knee. "Tell me what ails you, Huskies are good at everything!"
Boston snickered, looking up at his smirking father. "Dad, I need to know something. Am I- well, are we sick?" The dog looked down at the detached arm of a fourteen year old.
Daniel Travis senior leaned on the counter next to his pup and tossed the husky's arm into the sink on the other side of the kitchen. He sighed and put an arm around his boy. His pup. Just like his dad.
"Yeah, we are, kid. I don't think we have a choice in the matter. You have the same thing in you that I do. I could see it from the day you were born, but never really wanted to face it. The eyes, Boston."
His father looked into his son's identical puppy dog brown eyes . "Your eyes give you away."
Boston stared at his dad, trying to figure out if he was just drunk or rambling. The two dogs sat in silence in the kitchen, a half eaten birthday cake and two plates covered in crumbs next to them
The cake had been decorated at a bakery in town. It was a hunting themed cake, and had traced on sugar paper, a wolf father and son standing over a dead dear holding rifles.
"Congratulations, Son!" was written across in red letters.