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This is a furry adult story containing gay males in sexual situations as well as explicit language and descriptions. No kids are allowed so this story is only for those who are 18/21 or whatever the age is at your legislation. If you are not of the legal age, you shouldn't view this story because you might lose your innocence. Also, by browsing this story you have done so by your own consent and wish to view such material. if you do not wish to view such material you should leave this site immediately.

*

Hello, all!

Welcome to read the fourth part of the Bent Over Behind the Barracks special edition.

This is a direct continuation of the Christmas Special and follows in the same narrative. You may want to read the earlier instalments before jumping along.

If you like the story, why don't you take a moment to comment, fav, vote, etc? It'll help me to become a better writer.

As a special note, this is my thirtieth !! story posted here on SoFurry. I have been around for two years now and gained 32,152 story views and 216 watchers - half of these watchers within the last month or so.

My best regards to all my commentators, watchers and regular readers - you truly make my day!

Cheerio!

*

_ September, 1962 _

*

Brock's hot breaths rushed against my neck and made the sweaty skin there prickle. The feeling sent shivers down my back all the way down to the base of my tail. I growled quietly as the feeling caused muscles deep inside me tense and cling at the hefty piece of Brock I had lodged up inside my hole, knot and all. His arms were around me and held onto my chest. His paws were spread wide and covered my cum-stained belly and my chest when he held me close to his own rapidly rising chest.

I kept my chin pressed against my sternum and had my eyes closed, simply staying there and grunting occasionally as I felt that meat inside me pulse again and cause my body to reciprocate with another squeeze around that hot, slick flesh. All I could smell was cum and that infamous gun oil that Brock had smuggled with us for our leave.

We were in the old, bare bed at Brock's parents' bedroom, lying on our sides as he held onto me with his arms, his right leg hooked over my knees, as well as his cock that tied us firmly together from within. It throbbed and simply felt huge in there, but at least I wasn't feeling pain, just being extremely full from the intrusion of Brock's manly pride so deeply inside my stretched tailhole. I was just a little sore from the reaming that only stopped a couple of minutes earlier, not to mention the earlier boats of heavy tail fucking that'd left me walking strange momentarily, but I was a big Dobie, I could take a little bit of discomfort.

Honestly speaking, it was worth it, if only to feel...this. I'd cummed hard, of course, my spooge was everywhere over the blanket that covered the bed as well as our bodies, and a warm heat still burned quietly inside my belly and deeper, too. It didn't too bad to have Brock inside me still even if I wasn't too horny anymore, and I appreciated that he wasn't trying to simply yank it out. It was a great feeling, knowing that we wouldn't have to hurry anywhere, that we could just...be, just once, and not have to do anything else. The sex had been great from the start, but sometimes what a Dobie needed best was firm arms and a wet tongue grooming against my neck.

It was perhaps surprising that we didn't have sex last night, after we had sat by the fire and drunk beer and eaten preserved cherries. Heck, I even got Brock to eat some from my paws, and he even licked them clean! My cock practically ballooned inside my pants when I felt that slippery, raspy thing go over my fingers so willingly and get rid of the juices. I must've been pushing him a bit too hard since I soon found the Dobie pinning me down to the dusty floor and taking my throat between his jaws.

I almost went mad with the hot feeling of his saliva and breath over my vulnerable skin as he simply held me for a while and made sure I would not move. Staring up into those dark eyes made me feel weak in the same place where I always felt odd whenever Brock was really pulling on my strings and making me do his bidding without any doubts. The dominant near-bite had turned into kissing and some grinding which we kept going until the fire burned down and we went to bed.

We slept close to each other, side by side, so that our thighs and shoulders touched as we shared the blankets. I fell asleep listening Brock's breathing become slow and steady and slightly snoring when he fell asleep, and I had let it lull myself to sleep, too.

Brock woke me up by pushing his hard cock against my hip and grinding at me until I woke up and was met by his leering smiles and intense eyes and paws kneading all over my chest and arms. He didn't have to do much else to have me fully and willingly. Once I was turned onto my belly, I growled as I felt my dripping cock hit the rough blanket. I stayed there, head down and rump up while Brock pressed his body against mine and took me as intently as he ever did. He pushed his oiled cock straight into me and spent a long, sweaty time humping me for our shared pleasure.

We both groaned and snarled when he propped himself up on his hindpaws and used his full weight to drive his knot into me. It felt like a goddamn whole apple punching into my gut but once it was in it was simply big and not too bad, I guess. Brock's paw went around mine at the very last moment when he was giving me those rapid final thrusts to get him off, and we did spend close to each other, the big, huffing Dobie on top of me shooting his cum inside me. He collapsed on my back with much of his weight as we kept shooting our loads and riding our pleasure to the final moment until we finally just laid still in a heap of panting grunts.

The soldier manoeuvred us into our sides and simply held onto me as we caught our breaths again.

My stub of a tail rubbed against Brock's sweaty abs and must have tickled them since he snuffled and rubbed my chest with his knuckles.

"Cool down, wuff, you're wagging," he rumbled near my ear.

I flicked the ear his breath fell against and snuffled.

"Maybe I'm a vey comfortable doggie at the moment," I teased him.

Brock grumbled and his paw wandered over my belly, and I felt his pads scratch over my abs.

"Doggie like a scratch?" the soldier teased me and kept up tickling on my belly as if I was a cuddle-wanting cub.

I snuffled and tensed my belly so that he'd be sure to feel just who he was playing with. I might have been the one getting my rump rammed by the Dobie's thick rod, but I was as big as he was, and I had the bigger cock, too! I can't believe how dirty Brock had been, making me paw myself off in front of me, but watching him sit there with his cock hanging out and throbbing while he watched me was intense. He had looked at me like a T-bone steak, and even promised to give me a muzzlejob as a return for the show.

That hadn't stopped him from fucking me hard and good this morning, but I guess that I shouldn't be complaining. He had simply been Brock, with all that it entitled, and I guess I had to accept that It involved some biting and heavy ass-ramming. It was simply his way to do things, it seemed. Hard and fast and the way he wanted.

"Doggie definitely likes a scratch," Brock snickered as he rubbed his paw over my still somewhat stiff, wet cock.

He huffed at the sudden slick feeling and rubbed himself clear over my belly before resting the paw over my hip. His gropey paw squeezed one thick cheek of my rump and then gave it a little swat before running it slowly up and down over the slightly stinging, dark-furred skin.

"You seem to prefer to play hide the doggie bone better than scratch the belly," I commented as I felt his thick meat prod against that strange place inside my tail tunnel again.

I had no idea what it was, but something in there was really doing it for me when I had Brock deep inside me, especially as he was moving really slowly and firmly. I'd have to figure that out sooner or later...hell, maybe I could use that knowledge to convince Brock to give it up for me every now and then. My memory of the only time I had been inside his damn tight and hot tail was clear if patchy due to the epic spooginess involved. I was a big Dobie alright, and I knew from very personal experience that the pucker under one's tail really had to feel very nice for the one shoving something hard in it. That I had learned from Brock Stahlman through having his swollen cock rammed inside my own now tender rump over and over again during the past months.

The Dobie in question gave me two quick humps against my trapped rump which sent his knot pressing against my spread pucker and caused me to practically bite down on him.

"Gotta dig it deep."

Brock growled with obvious enjoyment and relaxed again, his hips still and pushed against the beefy muscles that were the halves of my big Dobie butt. He rested his chin against my shoulder and simply stayed there for a while. I felt the tip of his tongue lap a few times over my muzzle before he held it there for a while. Then the Dobie yawned and growled contently at his current tied state and just hugged me from behind.

"Any deeper and it'd be poking my lungs," I snorted at his roughly spoken words.

"You don't seem to mind, Jack."

His paw still rubbed over my hip while his paw against my chest kept slowly playing with one of my big, dark nipples. A single pad made a circular motion around that smooth circle of skin surrounding it, and I can't say it was feeling bad.

"It's only bad for a little while when you put the knot in," I told him in a quiet rumble, keeping the tone matter-of-fact.

Let him hear the truth and make his own decisions about that. I knew from my own limited experience that sticking it in wasn't perfect until you put the knot in there as well, so I could understand Brock's thinking on the matter.

"Well, your cornhole doesn't exactly suck it in does it, like a pussy does, eh?" Brock breathed against my neck.

I snorted at his use of words but decided to let it go this time. At least he hadn't compared my tail to a girl's pussy. He would've gotten my teeth if he ever did, too.

I tipped my head a little to catch his eyes from the corner of mine.

"Whenever you want to resample the feeling of that thing ramming in, just give me a word, Brock,"I told him, showing a hint of teeth. "I'll promise not to take too much time when I want to stick it in for good."

To my surprise, Brock only growled a little, but didn't bite me, or remind me of the cock spearing my rump with further humping, but he simply squeezed on me with his arm for a while before releasing me again and simply held me more gently again.

"You know I don't do it, Jack."

"Just why not?" I asked him bluntly, still keeping my eyes on him. "You didn't seem to mind the time I did."

He was quiet for a while before he answered, simply breathed in that almost growling way that was Brock.

"Just ain't into it, Jack. Don't like giving it up like that."

I felt his ears flick as he spoke, and let out a breath of my own.

"You did it once already."

A silence again followed as the Dobie just laid there, quietly.

"Don't have to tell you why I want or don't want I think, " he spoke in a low voice and was again silent.

I tilted my head and rested it against the pillow again, deciding to give up further questioning. I guess the inner workings of the mind of Brock Stahlman would remain a mystery for yet another day. I shouldn't give it too much thought anyway. He was just a thickheaded grunt after all, and prone to doing these things very suddenly. Maybe that one time had been like that, too, just to see if he liked it or not.

I did remember, though, that he said it had been a long time since the last time. That did imply things I didn't dare to ask. Of course I was curious if Brock had fooled around with other males - I sure had not, never before Brock - but I did suspect that I wasn't his first. Besides those few words spoken when he sat on me with my cock jammed to the balls under his tail, I had no proof, and so it would likely remain for now.

"Suit yourself," I snuffled and just laid still, wondering just how long we would remain like this.

Every time before we came we'd just stay tied for a while until Brock would start to get slightly soft and then he'd brace his paws on each side of my rump and slowly tug that stiff knot out of my sore tailhole and depart it with a dirty slurping sound. After that there usually was the necessary cleaning up and putting on the clothes hurried shed for our encounter. Right now at the moment we had our clothes neatly folded on our respective sides of the bed - it hasn't been a surprise for me when Brock had suggested we sleep in the buff. It was a cool night but the fire had already given the house some warmth, and the borrowed army blankets were more than good enough to keep us comfortable. Having Brock as a living radiator had helped to ward off the cool as well, so the night had been spent in restful slumber up until the very Stahlman - approved wakeup call. It had certainly been preferable to Sergeant Williams' coyote drawl.

This morning he didn't seem to be in a hurry, though. My cock shrunk slightly as the feeling of cold air finally got into it, and the knot receded as well, but I remained slightly stiff and pulsing. Occasionally I felt my inner muscles bear down on his meat, and during those times my cock would jump and my belly tingled in that strange way. The pressure inside my tailhole seemed to lessen a little as the quiet minutes passed by when we simply laid there together, quietly. The Dobie's breaths were even and slow now and tickled against my whiskers occasionally, but otherwise he was still. It was almost uncharacteristic of the burly soldier whom one would usually see in constant state of action and movement. He was a bundle of nerves and energy wanting to come out, so it was new to have him like this for a while at least.

My ears flattened at the sudden sound when he spoke.

"Anything you wanna do today, Griggs?" he grumbled.

I tipped my head to the side again to try and catch him, but only found the top of his head since he was resting his chin against my shoulder.

"I don't know, what is there to do around here?" I spoke to him.

"Dunno..."

I snuffled and placed my paw over his arm that still crossed my chest and tried how it felt there. He didn't mind, so I let it remain.

"Well, I would like to see the rest of the house, and the other premises," I told him, catching onto the first thing that came to mind. "Maybe go for a little bit of a walk..."

I chuckled briefly and added: "Didn't think that I would miss marching."

"Guess that's fine," Brock replied after a moment, now tilting his head so that he could look down to me over my shoulder.

It felt a little bit strange, really, having a chit chat while being impaled on those infamous...what was it again...almost eight inches of Dobie grunt Stahlman. Still, I guess that under these circumstances, nothing was quite as unusual as it would be out there in the normal world. I gave him a quiet nod and flicked and ear before speaking more.

"Know any good places to go?" I asked further.

The Dobie frowned quietly as he thought, which itself was a feat for him, I think, but I didn't care to remind him of that thing again. I wasn't in the mood to tease Brock more than was necessary, because a Brock with nerves that weren't riled up was much better than the mean, sniping Stahlman with the shitmuzzled grin that was way too familiar from Fort Chipmunk. Here, he had been seen less and less recently, and I wondered if he only existed within the barbed wire fences of the military base.

"There's a path down the forest about half a mile off here...used to go there when I was a cub," he spoke in a near-snuffle, as if it was nothing important to mention that the place once meant something to him.

"Sounds fine to me," I replied back and gave him a small smile.

The Dobie surprised me again, this time by kissing me, on the lips, and holding it for a while. He kept up the kiss unhurriedly for some moments before our lips finally parted with a wet smacking sound. Then I felt his paws move again, as he yanked his arm off from around me and I felt his paw disappear.

"Alright, I need to take a leak, and we should stay in fucking all day anyway," he grumbled, "roll over."

I snuffled and allowed him to push us up again so that I was flat on my belly with my rear up and his body hugged mine, with his big cock still deep inside my distended pucker. Brock's paws slipped along my sides and then gripped on my hips. I felt cool air touch my sweaty back when he stood up to his knees and simply stayed there for a while. The Dobie was probably savouring the final last moments of being inside me. Then I felt one of his paws at the base of my tail as he used a couple of finger to push my rump cheeks apart. I bit my teeth together and tried to relax as much as I could as I hissed: "Just be careful, right?"

Brock rumbled something I couldn't make out and then I felt the strong pressure again, and as I grunted in discomfort, there was the definite feeling of being stretched fully open once more, followed by the wet "plop" of his knot and then the rest of his cock leaving my nethers. I felt my abused muscles clench down hard and close me up again safely, and my stubby tail flicked up and down rapidly as everything was trying its best to get back into normal shape down there again.

Brock growled and hissed after he was freed and I heard the bed creak and lost the feeling of his paws on me when he sat back on the bed. I kept my upturned position and tried out squeezing on those muscles on my backside. They seemed to be taking my commands without trouble, and the only feeling associated with my ass was a sense of rawness after being fucked throughout and good. A coolness spread over the crevice of my rump and my balls and I realized that even though I was closed, I had leaked some of Brock's cum out of me. Oh well...just some more to clean up, besides the usual. I'd get rid of the rest of it later on.

The Dobie chuckled throatily somewhere behind me.

"Looking good, Griggs," he snuffled, and I was perfectly sure that the Stahlman Shit Grin had returned.

I felt his paws take a sudden return to my ass, squeezing down on each cheek as he felt me up while surely grinning like mad at the sight of his lay.

"Why don't we see how you look like in this position tonight?" I snorted, rolling down to my back before he had the time to do any more of that fondling.

I flopped down to my back with a soft thump and had to hiss a little as it put some stretching into my overstretched places, but it was fine. I was now looking at the kneeling Dobie across my own cum-stained body. He looked at me, ears flat and with a few of his teeth bared for me. His red, glistering cock still hung out about halfway from his thick sheath.

"Yeah, maybe I'll be in the mood for some munching under my tail tonight, if you're a good pup," he snuffled through his clenched teeth before he simple climbed out of the bed and left me there, sprawled and buck naked.

I didn't even have the time to give him a sharp retort to his dirty snide before he was already out of the bedroom. I simply grunted to myself and began to try and haul my Dobie self up for good.

*

I found Brock from the kitchen where he was bathing himself with pawfuls of water splashed from the running tap over the sink. He wasn't being very throughout with it, but he did get his cock cleaned of cum and gun oil and me and then did a few splashes under his arms and over his muzzle and face before he vacated it and told me to take my turn while he went back to the bedroom for his clothes.

I bathed as hurriedly as Brock had did and managed to make myself something less of a cum-reeking doggie, during with Brock returned and began to make some breakfast. Once I came back from fetching my own clothes, he was already serving out sandwiches. He had even made me one with pickles on it while he preferred one heavily buttered and covered with a thick cut of ham, and I thanked him for being such a thoughtful man for remembering my favourite treats.

"Had to wash my paws after handling those things," he said and snuffled at my pickled cucumbers and shrugged nonchalantly.

I simply shook my big head and wondered whether he'd ever learn simple social mores. Our simply breakfast was for some strange reason eaten standing up there, leaning on the kitchen counter. My pummelled Dobie butt certainly didn't mind that development at all, so I was more than happy to stay there and keep chewing and try not to take Brock's odd grumbles too seriously.

Washing the dishes as easy since the only thing needing cleaning up was the single rusty knife we had been using for various cutting purposes. Then Brock announced that we ought to begin the tour of the house that he had promised among other things.

"Alright," I told him and promised to follow his tow.

Brock stood there with his paws stuffed in his pockets and looked ever the grunt again, though without his usual dog tags clattering over his chest.

"Guess you've seen all of the downstairs so I guess upstairs...yeah," he mumbled.

"I'd like that."

The big dog led me up along the old, bare stairs and into the second floor landing. The ceiling was angled above the stairs, and I saw that doors opened on to the left side. My steps on the floor sent out small puffs of dust as I followed Brock over to the door farther away from the landing. It opened with a simple push from him, and we entered into the small room.

It was quite dark in there since all the light was coming through the small, dirty window that had some tattered curtains pulled over it, but I could still make out the old wallpaper that had tiny printed flowers on it, as well as the painted wooden floor and the lack of furnishings. It really was an empty, old room.

"My sister's room," he told me as we stood there quietly, side by side, my eyes wandering over the derelict living quarters.

"How old is she now?"

"She's seventeen this December. Lives with 'Ma, works her ass off to scrape a living."

I nodded.

"Nothing to see here, let's go," the Dobie grunted and pushed past me to get out.

I followed him over to the other door which I presume would lead me into a glimpse to the past and childhood of private Brock Stahlman.

It was a room about the size of the one we visited previously, but still, it was much different. There was an old tube-framed bed standing against the wall to one side, though it was bare and without a mattress. A large white cabinet stood near to the door. Brock stepped in and I followed him as I let my eyes take the room in better. Something colourful was lying on the floor and I spied it to be an issue of Western Gunfighters, with a gun-toting wrangler coyote on the cover as one would expect to see in such a publication. It made me wonder whether Brock had ever played cowboys and Indians with other local cubs, like I did when I was little.

I also noticed a worn spindled chair sitting below the single window of the room. It was painted baby blue and must have belonged to Brock and stood next to his desk which was not to be seen in the room anymore. I turned to look at him.

Nothing could be read on the Dobie's face. He simply stared ahead, eyes fixed straight in front of him and nowhere else. It looked like he wasn't planning to disclose any more secrets for me now. I walked around the room and tried to imagine how it looked when Brock had lived here. I could see the bed, fully made and with a colourful spread, and he'd lie on it and read that comic book and be excited about the Western adventure. In that chair he would have sat while making his homework, frowning with his math problems and scratching his big head between his pointy ears. He'd likely wanted to go running outside better than that, or throw some ball, or have adventures of his own.

I was itching to open that cabinet and see whether it held any interesting relics from Brock's past, but I didn't dare to move to do anything so bold. Instead I turned to him and smiled as best as I could.

"Must've gotten pretty small once you were all grown," I noted, trying to draw his attention to the fact that the two of us together seemed to be almost filling up the whole room.

Brock gave me a look back and flicked an ear.

"I look big anywhere, Griggs. Only bears are bigger than I am. Or you."

I smiled at his comparison.

"It looks nice enough. You had your own room and all."

"They wanted another son, but it didn't happen. Heard 'Ma crying over it sometimes."

He spoke it so quickly, so..casually that it almost made me shudder. I would have thought that such a thing would touch Brock as well, but the Dobie didn't seem to even flinch at speaking such words. I felt my ears flatten slightly by reflex.

"Brothers can be pretty nice sometimes, but sometimes they're a pain in the ass," I spoke as if offering some consolation.

"Was supposed to take over the farm once 'Pa would get on years," Brock spoke, still staring into the back of the room, unfocused. "Maybe we could've gotten some more land if there'd been 'Pa Stahlman and two brothers working it. 'Pa always spoke about getting more acres, planting a lot of wheat and maybe having more dairy beasts. Always planning and waving his paws over maps of the lands he wanted to buy once things went according to his plans."

I couldn't bring myself to say anything that would have made sense in the moment. I kept watching him, and saw how his chest moved up and down, how his ears kept flicking, as did his tail, and how he kept squeezing his paws into fists inside his pants pockets where they were buried deeply in. His shoulders and arms flexed with obvious tension coursing through his body, and it made the entire Dobie's huge frame thrum with held-back energy. I had no idea what was going through his mind again, after speaking all those obviously very sensitive things in that almost bored, strange voice.

I knew his father had died when he was 16, leaving Brock as the sole provider for the family, I had presumed. I wondered if the teenaged Brock had stood here like this on his own time, the way I had imaged how little Brock cub had wanted to play and had fun with a comic book. I was pretty sure he wouldn't have cried, nor showed any emotion except anger. Anger was always easy to let out, since all you had to do was to growl and snarl and spit and bite and claw and kick and punch. Brock was good doing all those, I knew from having been the target more than once. He had a mean temper and didn't hold back from showing it, too.

Nonetheless, I did felt an urgent need to try to comfort him, at least somehow. I didn't know words that'd do any good, nor could I fathom the possibility of trying to give him a hug for soothing his frayed nerves.

"Fuck all it matters now. No more Stahlmans here," he grumbled quietly in his throat. "No more lands. Sold 'em all to cover the mortgage."

"Brock..."

"Still wanna stare at empty walls some more, Griggs?" he snorted dangerously.

"I think we could leave," I spoke quickly, but didn't move.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," Brock huffed and stomped out of the room, head held down and his shoulders squared.

I watched him for just a breath's time before I followed him quietly. I closed the door behind me before we descended the stairs again. Brock was already on his way out of the front door and into the yard.

We were bathed in bright sunlight and comfortable, moist air, as we stood there. A breeze blew and if I'd had any longer fur it would have been ruffled nicely, but now it just brushed against my short-furred skin though the feeling wasn't unpleasant at all. The weather was good considering it was the last week of September, and the longitude we were located at for the moment.

Brock looked like a dark apparition despite being amidst warm air and sun. He drew large lungfulls before turning to speak to me again.

"Wanna see that rotten heap?" he spoke, gesturing with his elbow towards the red outbuilding.

"Yeah, alright."

We walked across the gravelled yard and into the shadow of the outbuilding. The walls seemed to be made of brick, and thus I took Brock's declaration of the building being a wholly rotten piece of shit with a grain of salt. It did smell very musky on the inside as we explored, walking through the empty cattle spaces and the dairy room itself which held the empty refrigerated tank as well as abandoned milking machine equipment. My boots rustled on the slightly damp concrete floor as we wandered around the quiet and empty dairy. Brock forced a pair of large doors down on the end of the wide corridor and we stood in a room about three stories' tall which I knew to be the end of the building.

"We used to have a 1950 'Deere AW," Brock rumbled as he stared the oil-stained floor in front of him.

"I bet you loved driving it," I commented, smiling in the near darkness of the room.

"Since I was 6," he snuffled and turned to look at me as he stood there, arms folded over his chest.

I whistled quickly and the sound reverberated from the corrugated roof high above us, echoing for a while before subsiding but not before we had to flatten our ears due to the loud sound. Brock shook his head from side to side angrily in obvious annoyance.

"Done a lot of ploughing?"

"Used to wake up at four in the morning to plough the upper fields so that 'Pa could help 'Ma at the dairy. That was before going for the school bus up to the road."

"At six years old?" I asked half-seriously.

"For fuck's sake, Griggs, I didn't know you're that daft," he snorted and punched the air in front of me with a firm jab from his clenched fist.

He was smiling, though, showing a lot of teeth this time.

I returned the swipe with one of my own in the air, grinning back at him as I did my best one-pawed boxing impression. Brock dodged my move and moved to the side with surprising smoothness for someone who was so damn big and stepped further away from me. He almost disappeared into the shadows inside the tractor shed. I mostly sensed him by his slightly rumbling breathing which my ears picked up easily.

"Don't have to hide from me, Brock, I'm just the daft doggie, remember?" I called out after him, listening as he shifted in the darkness.

He didn't answer me, but I heard the shuffle of his boots against the concrete. I turned my head to the side as I heard another motion, but just as I was moving forward, another sound caught my attention.

I didn't have the time to react fully to the 180 pounds or so of Dobie slamming against me from behind. I felt his arms go firmly around my chest just as the air was pushed out of my lungs by him colliding with me heavily. I immediately growled and gripped his arms in an attempt to push hi away. The deeply huffing Dobie wouldn't budge but instead held me even firmer. I felt his hot breaths against the side of my head and even in this light I saw the white of his teeth, bared and threatening.

My struggling was in vain. He was so heavy that would not be able to throw him over my shoulder, nor could I simply shake him free by squirming. Brock held me tightly and steadily and I felt his breath quicken as did mine, as he held me, unspeaking and grunting loudly. I felt his body press firmly against my as he held me, making sure that I would not escape.

Brock's teeth pressed against my neck now, the tips of them clearly felt over my skin briefly before he was still again, his breaths rasping in my ear.

"That is what happens to daft doggies," he spoke in a hot whisper before his grip on me became like a stranglehold for just a moment before he finally pushed me away.

I caught a few deep breaths and rubbed my slightly squished chest, glaring at him in the darkness. I could only make out the basic shape of the dark dog soldier, as well as the white of his teeth and the glint from his eyes. He simply stood there with his arms held to his sides, defiant and firm in his posture.

"That hurt, Brock," I told him as I felt the air start flowing in unobstructed again.

My ears were flat and my breaths rumbled while I stared at him.

"I know," he spoke before turning and disappearing into the dairy again.

"Brock!" I called after him as he walked, catching up with the Dobie when we reached the cattle pens, but he would not stop not turn to face me.

The canine simply kept going, walking friskily with his paws clenched to his sides. His entire broad body swayed with the swift, heavy gait. I followed him out into the yard, and he looked even darker in the bright daylight, unlike the strange, shadowy dimness of the outbuilding where he simply blended in. Here he looked like a sore spot against the overgrown grassed and the fenced fields that surrounded us from all sides all the way until the forests took over at the distance. His ears flicked in the soft breeze as I watched him.

"Brock...", I repeated the Dobie's name once we had come to a stop.

His eyes were emotionless again as he peered over the premises of what once were to be his own lands.

"Jack."

His voice was deep, low and hoarse as he spoke my name.

"Yeah, Brock?"

He kept staring ahead of him, shoulders squared back, his head high. He was as still as a statue, dark, quiet and imposing. He seemed to be rooted to the spot as he simply stood there, unmoving and unknowing of his surroundings, nor reacting my presence at all.

I took another step closer and already raised my paws in the hopes of putting it on his shoulder.

"Brock...?"

My voice was gentle but firm, so that I was sure that he would hear it. Whether he'd care to listen, I had no idea.

"I don't know this place at all, Jack."

Then he was running, as fast as his thick legs could ever hope to carry someone of the size of Brock. Within seconds he had reached the edge of the yard, climbed over a fence and ended up on the narrow gravel path that split the two fields behind the house into two halves and swaying golden mass.

He just kept running and running.

"Brock!"

I yelled his name after him before I took a deep breath and ran.

*

Thank you for reading my story. Since you got this far, I hope, why not to take a moment to rate, fav, or comment? It will help me to become a better writer.

Cheers!