Relief5.txt
Relief Part 5 - By Monsieur Foxy
DISCLAIMER: By reading the following story, you agree that you are of legal age, and are willingly reading this and have purposely found this story for the purpose of reading this story, which contains gay male on male sex involving a human male and his transformed male dog. All content is copyrighted MonsieurFoxy.
ENJOY!
I was nervous.
Who wouldn't be?
Perhaps I shouldn't have assumed that it would be so easy to get a job working for my neighbor Jake, who now that I put some coherent thought into it, was really more of an acquaintance than a close friend. After all, he had built a successful business out of printing in a time when so many printing companies were going under due to the recession, and the prevalence of electronic invitations. He'd be leery of anyone wanting to join his company, and possibly ruin it from mismanagement or dishonesty. I really shouldn't have come over, expecting to just walk into a job.
Before I could stop my hand, it had already impacted his door, and knocked. I heard some banging thuds, followed by a bit of profanity, and some opening and closing of doors, getting closer to the door. I heard some soft footsteps, and then the door opened.
He was a bit dishevelled, his hair stuck out at odd angles, and ink had permanently stained the bottom of his heavy canvas work apron. He looked at me directly, and asked
"Whaddya want?"
I was a bit taken aback by the abruptness of his question, and fought to not stutter and come up with a reasonable replacement for my forgotten spiel. I quickly replied,
"I'm here to ask you for a job."
There, I said it. That wasn't so horrible. I figure the worst that could happen would be that he would turn me down......
......Wait, that's still kind of bad. But he stood there, looking less annoyed and more intrigued, as if his brain had experienced a delay between hearing my words and actually analyzing them. That's when I realized that he was also not wearing anything under his apron. . . . Oh my.
"Well, what can you do?"
"I can do some basic mechanical work, and a lot of clerical work. I can file and sort mail, and organize a spreadsheet and reconcile a business expense report."
I knew I was babbling, but I wanted him to know I wasn't a complete idiot that was trying to just hitch a ride on his business. I was also trying to recover from the shock of realizing that he was answering his door almost naked. But then, it Was Sunday, so maybe my reaction was a little too strong.
"As much as I hate admitting it, I do need help, as I'm getting too many orders, and can't very well turn money down right now."
Wait, did he just say what I think he said?
"You mean you actually want to hire me?"
"Sure. I need help in the shop, and I can interview you right now. One of the smaller embossing printers is broken down, and I want you to fix it. I'll give you the tools and parts you need, and you get 4 hours. If you can make significant progress with it, and can prove that you know your way around a printer, I'll discuss job details with you afterward. . . .But just come back in about twenty minutes, okay? You caught me in my birthday suit."
"Uh, yeah, sure. No problem. Twenty minutes? See you then."
My heart beat a happy thumpety-thump in my chest, as I saw hope and turned to walk back over to my house. I was thrilled! Now I had a real chance to make things work out, and keep my life in one piece. As I walked I hummed a little tune I'd heard on the radio a couple weeks back. As I walked up to my door, I remembered that I had a giant, sex-hungry dobie-morph in my house, and that I had left him alone for almost twenty minutes. I hoped that he hadn't gotten into trouble.
I walked in, and the first thing that I noticed was the smell. I could smell meat cooking, and before my brain could panic about the house being on fire and Hans being hurt, my nose informed me that there was garlic and bay leaves and something a little spicy present too.
Mystified, I continued back into my house, through the entryway and into the kitchen. I was completely dumbstruck. There stood my Hans, with an apron on, and a largish frying pan in paw. He was turning the meat over, and looked up and saw me standing there. His muzzle split open in a happy grin, and he trotted over, the pan steaming and smoking slightly as he went. There was the meat, a big, 32-oz. sirloin, and it was just blackened on the edges, and smelled great. My next words were;
"How? How did you learn to cook, Hans?"
"Wharf roo."
"Watched me?"
"Yes."
"How did you add the spices right?"
"Wharf roo, *snort* Warfed you book. Smelled good. Made the same smell by smelling in jars."
Only then did it register that almost every cupboard door was ajar, and every spice I owned was out on the counter, the tops open. So that's how the big lug did it. He smelled my cooking every day, and his sensitive nose separated out each scent and what container it was in. How cool.
"You hrung-hungry?"
"You bet. I have an interview in a little bit. Can you stay quiet and put all the jars back where you found them? I'll be back by the time the clock (and I pointed to the short hour-hand) is here. (I pointed to the 6 was on the clock) Will you be okay without me for that long?"
"Yes. . . ."
"Okay. . . ."
"Love you, B-Paul."
Nothing to do at this but shake my head and smile at Hans. I stopped in the hall to check my clothes for dog hair, and then left to go back to my neighbor's house to see if I could land this job. I got to the front door once again, and knocked. The door opened almost immediately to a much more composed and professional man, with pants this time. I stepped in and he beckoned me to follow him to the back of the house and his print shop. He stopped twice, once to get an apron for me, and once to pick up a battered toolbox, and set them down next to the oldest, most decrepit-looking printing-press I had ever seen.
"Yeah, it's been broken for a while, but it used to produce some of the best invitations I ever sold. They were unique, as no one else still has one in the continental US. I've machined replacement parts for it for the last three years now. I can't figure out what's bugging it this time, though. The older customers aren't happy, but they're switching to ones that I can still produce, and it's all I can do to replace all the stock in other prints that I've been selling. But if you can get the bedeviled thing to run again, I'll make all the orders for that machine your responsibility and train and pay you to run it for me."
"Sounds good to me."
"Hurry up and get started. Your time starts now."
I walked up to the machine. It was dusty, but I could already see the way the levers and stamps worked. I mentally catalogued the order of the gears, from the power source, which in this case was a patched-together large AC-DC adapter. Almost unheard of nowadays, but it was an experimental design back in the 1860s.
The gears traced around from the spring-back tracking, to the paper feeder, to the tray suspension, to the rollers, to the printer heads and. . . . . . . . I peered closer, and poked a finger in there, the gear holding the chain in tilted, and exposed the teeth of the gear beneath him and sure enough, it was very loose....loose enough to let the teeth miss each other completely. I puttered with the other side of the machine to find the identical assembly and select a matching screw.
After I placed it in, I spun the top gear again, and it locked right into place, and popped free only when the gearing was spun in reverse. Very pleased with myself, I then proceeded to map and sketch the sequencing for reassembling the printer once I had cleaned and re-oiled it.
If my neighbor had been watching, he showed no signs that were visible to me of either approval or disappointment. I took each part out, labelling which way it pointed in the machine, cleaned and oiled it, and set it on a large canvas tarp to let the excess lubricant slide off and settle into the fabric. I then got all the way down to the bolt plate. I found a spring, badly corroded, and tried to pluck it free.
The bolt shivered, then creaked, then broke off in my hands with a sharp *ping*. My neighbor started, looked around, and spotted me with the remainder in my hand. He stared for a moment at the sprawling layout of parts, and growled,
"You know where all the pieces go, right?"
I showed him my notepad of drawings and my tiny labels that corresponded to the drawings. Jake grunted and walked back to the bench in the back of the room. He pulled out what looked like a replica of the piece I had just snapped, and handed it to me, with the remark that "..That piece of junk is trashed, I was hoping it wasn't the spring, But there you have it. Just remember to clean out the broken stump from the seat in the bolt plate."
I found out pretty quick that Jake knew his way around the machine intimately over the next hour as I got stuck twice, and he was able to answer my question without even turning to look. When I was done, my fingers were oily into next month, and my wrists were sore from turning screws and wrenchs for three hours solid. But when I powered up the monster, and fed it some paper and the first of a stack of prepared printing plates, I knew he was rather pleased because it rumbled into motion, and ran for the full ream of paper without a pause.
"So, you fixed it, and under four hours. I think you've got yourself a job. Tell me what you need for living expenses and we'll work out something above and beyond that, if you feel it's necessary."
I felt as if he had just stuck my finger in a light socket, I felt so electrified. I was ecstatic. I had a job! I didn't have to worry about rent, or paying the bills after all. . . . . . I sat down, did a little mental arithmetic, and came up with a basic figure, padded by about four percent that would satisfy the requirements, and handed the total to him. He hesitated only a few seconds before nodding and handing it back to me, to turn and walk back over to his workbench. He did a little typing, and a little muttering and came back over with a printed copy that included the figure I'd mentioned, with provisions for medical, vision, liability, and a stipend above and beyond my requirements for my personal use. I couldn't have been more pleased, and I think he was pleased too, that he had some useful and dextrous help in the shop. Hans would be happy to see me when I got home.....
The four houses between Jake and me flew past under my feet, and in no time at all, my hand was reaching for the front door. I walked in, dropped my jacket, and shucked my shoes, when a large, furry shadow detached itself from the door as it swung shut, and wrapped me in furry arms that felt like oak trees wrapped in soft, short fur.
"Hey, Hans! I got a job! We're saved! We don't have to stress about the bills anymore!"
"No more brills-bills?"
"No more bills, lover. Our neighbor Jake has offered me a great job working the oldest and most popular printer in his shop! He says it's twice as much work as any of the other presses, but that the volume more than makes up for it. Anywho, our problem is solved!"
"Rappy, I don't like Bills. They make you stressed. I just want my Paul happy."
"Such a good boy......"
Hans' stump of a tail wagged and he grinned at me, all his teeth showing and his tongue lolliing out to one side. His eyes were warm and shining, and seemed to pull me forward. I hugged him, and reached down around him to play with his tailhole. Hans arffed huskily, and sniffed at me, and then suddenly, his whole body stiffened, and his muscles bulged and he Growled.
"What's wrong, Hans? What's wrong?!"
"Who touched you?!"
"Just Jake, why are you so upset?"
"You've got male all over you. I smell another male on you."
"Of course you do. I shook hands with Jake and-
"No! I smell another Dog on you!"
"I didn't see another dog in Jake's house. What do you mean?"
The fur settled on Hans' big frame, and he lowered his jowls and nuzzled me apologetically. He had me really scared for a second. I thought that he was going to do something bad for a second there. What could have gotten him so riled?
*********************************
Meanwhile in Jake's House........
"Whew! That was close! Paul almost found out about you, boy!"
"That would be bad...Right?"
"That's right, it would be bad. Paul's a cool guy, but I don't know how he could handle meeting you, let alone that we're together like this...."
My big Shep, Jesse used to be small enough for me to hold between my two hands around him below his shoulders, and was no heavier than a small sack of flour, but that was almost 3 years ago. Then one day, I came home from work and the house was a mess.
I instantly called for Jesse, thinking that he'd gotten lonely or startled by something, but when I heard soft snuffling, I was surprised to hear it coming from somewhere behind me.....at head-level. I turned around, and froze......
Where before Jesse had been almost 4 feet tall when he sat, now he towered at almost 8 feet, and where before he was muscled and weighed in at about 190 pounds, now his shoulders almost brushed the door frame that he had to duck to pass through.... His arms had kept their original colors, but now they were huge, like they belonged on a large gorilla.... And his legs, even though they had retained their backward bend, were now thick and muscled like a power lifter. Let alone what now drew and trapped my gaze.
My Shepard was pretty gifted, even for a dog his size, and we did stuff together ever since he'd become old enough to be interested, but now, he was hung, almost literally, like a horse. His sheath was covered in thick tan, straight hairs, and was plump and filled to the top with almost 14" as far as I could tell, of thick, juicy dogmeat. I dropped my gaze down to the bottom of Jesse's thick sheath, and my breath stopped. His balls were about the size of golf balls before, but now they were more like plums, really Large plums...... They hung low, and swayed and twitched with his breathing and body motion. I stayed glued in my tracks, trying to absorb how this had happened; then onward, to the thought of trying to take that massive shaft. I shook, coming out of my stupor, and felt his huge wet tongue drag across my face and give me the facewash of a lifetime. I'd never imagined this could happen, let alone to me.
Soon however, I was far too busy to worry about such a trivial thing as how. Soon, the now had consumed my senses, and I quickly grew hard as a nail at the thought that my Shep was now a Grecian Muscle-God, and that I might actually get taken by his massive and almost frightening maleness. I felt my heart racing, and my vision narrowing down until nothing else existed in the world for me but Jesse........ As warm, fur-covered-hands? paws?-, gently picked me up and wrapped me against that chiselled and sculpted chest.....
To Be continued......
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