Lady and The Tramp II: Scamp's Adventure: Understanding
The third installment of this series.
In the quiet home that Jim Dear, Darling, Lady, Tramp, Scamp, Angel, and the pups lived, there was a thick quiet that enveloped the large gold-wallpapered master bedroom. Downstairs, the oaken grandfather clock that had been given to Darling from her mother, Starling, rang once, twice. Two in the morning, thought Scamp, whose aching cock, although having had received a very pleasant orgasm from his "once previous" lover (he considered this now with a mixed feeling of contempt and frustrated anger) just an hour and a half ago had felt very wonderful.
_So that man is the father? And now I'm disposable? You fucking bitch. _
Scamp was very young, an odd mix of dog. The one male out of all the other pups his father and mother had given litter to, he had always been treated as the one that had to behave like the girls, be good and take the bath, don't bark, don't do this, don't do that, you can't play, sit straight, et cetera, et cetera. Scamp was tired of the rules of his family and his house. Even Jim Dear or Darling would look him over nowadays when he whined. It was almost as if he had become a hole in a donut, or a non-entity. The pressure had been building to a great level within Scamp's growing, but still frail body. His gray, scraggy coat of short fur had more sheen, more sheen than any of the other pups, he had noticed. Even his teeth had gotten larger than the others. Sharper. More of a bite than the others' teeth.
The forty-five pound "mutt" continued to rustle around his quilt bed, snorting in growing frustration at the misunderstanding that he had towards Angel and the fact that she had not given him the respect due to him after the blowjob. She had used him for her own satisfaction, and just that. Nothing had been about him, but just her. The fucking slut, thought the irritable pooch.
It came to him, all of a sudden, how much of a goddamn pleasure it would be to kill her and her unborn infant. A series of echoing chills ran over his spine and passed through the front, over his chest and belly, both in fear and excitement of the thought of eating Angel's heart, then her child, raw and unconscious. A delicacy, for sure, considered Scamp, now up and pacing, heading slow towards the small crack in the bedroom door, letting loose a small leaf of dim light.
"Huh . . . Scamp? Where are you going?" asked a fresh and awakened Angel.
"Angel?! Uh, uh, I was just . . . I was going nowhere! I just had to walk."
"Well, come back to bed. It's late."
But Scamp refused, and turned his small gray head again towards the crack, moving his four paws towards the outer hall.
"Scamp, where are you going?"
"Leave me alone," replied Scamp with a cold heart.
Angel got up slow and quiet. Her small, cream head was tilted and had a confused expression. The cum from the facial she had received earlier showed, her fur matted. On her, it looked beautiful, but in Scamp's eyes, she looked like a goddamned scandal.
"Leave me alone!" whispered Scamp in a high tone.
Scamp scampered through the crack and, as soft as he could, flew down the velvet staircase towards the foyer, to the kitchen.
"Scamp! Wait!" dry screamed Angel. With a huff of frustration and desperation, Angel followed suit, and dashed in the same path that Scamp had taken.
She found him sprinting headfirst into a cabinet door beneath the sink. "SCAMP?! What are you doing to yourself?" "Get away, you fucking bitch."
The words slapped at Angel's heart, causing her to recoil in pure shock. A mixture of moan and growl exited her mouth as Scamp bared her teeth at her, in obvious anger. "STAY AWAY NOW!"
A cascading waterfall of salty tears broke through the desert of dried cum that had formed on Angel's muzzle over the previous hours. A little while after Scamp had wandered into a dank corner of the kitchen, when fifteen or twenty minutes had passed, the disturbed Pomeranian laid down under the breakfast nook table and watched Scamp with wary eyes, and a sniffy nose.
The grandfather clock in the neighboring living room rang three o' clock, and Angel yawned long and a little loud, but she would not leave Scamp alone. On the other side, Scamp was still very angry, but now, his wall of security had been touched, shown to be a little shaken. His "perfect little" family had been invaded by this foxy little pup almost a year ago, and now getting pregnant by a dead Buster, Scamp felt used.
He felt goddamned used, and he did not like it one fucking bit.
"So, you wanna talk, bitch?" muttered Scamp, stalking towards Angel slow, a snarl and a little drool escaping his upper lip.
"I'm not your bitch, Scamp!" yelled Angel.
"Hey, Mom and Dad are going to hear us," warned Scamp, showing a little fear in his eyes now.
"I don't give a fuck, Scamp," said Angel, each word accentuated with a pause to emphasize how she felt about her being treated by the now-douche dog. "I really fucking don't. And if you call me a bitch again, I will cut off your cock and balls and shove them up your ass until you'll need a pair of fucking garden pliers to pull them out again! Do you fucking understand?" Angel threatened him with this in a lethal, low tone, pissed beyond a severe crimson red towards a tornado black, twirling and screaming a dusty death, with mountains and sharks waiting to maim and kill. "Are--we-- on - the--same-- level?"
All Scamp could do was feel his once-healthy manhood shrivel up like a rotted and aged bologna end, and cowered before the sudden whirling dervish of a sudden hellhound.
"Ye--yes."
Angel's fur bristled as growls that stayed burrowed deep within her usual, soft female soul came erupting outwards, creating a small toxic atmosphere between the two canines, despite the large kitchen space in the young morning darkness.
"Now you listen to me, and you listen well. I don't know what your problem is, but throwing a goddamn tantrum is not going to work with me. AM I UNDERSTOOD?"
Scamp turned red, but held his ground, feeling every muscle fiber tightening within. His head still felt fogged with red, but now he was being matched, and the desire to kill was not as strong as the desire to have a real fight, and let it be with that.
"Yeah, I understand. I also fucking understand that you, and the rest of my goddamn family here, are a bunch of stuck-up assholes, and I'm done here. DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?"
A creak sounded above the kitchen, where the master bedroom lay. Both Angel and Scamp, eyes pulsing and red with veins from tiredness and anger, stood still, ears perked. When it was apparent that the creak had been nothing more than a creak, the two squared off, more furious than ever.
"GODDAMN FAMILY!! You fucking dick!" growled Angel.
Scamp snapped back. "No, you sucked my dick, and then went off about that fucking guy being the goddamn father of your fucking baby!"
This report stopped Angel from saying another word of any anger towards her previous friend/lover, as a piercing light of his own conflicting grief entered her sorrowed heart. Small salty tears commenced to drip from Scamp's small, oval gray eyes, and he turned his back on what he now felt to be his betrayer, someone who had discarded him for another lover, for another life. His light crying became heavy sobbing, and he curled tight, his large paws covering his face.
"Scamp? Scamp?" asked Angel, with worry in her voice. "Scamp, that's what bothering you? You think I don't love you anymore?" She crawled over to Scamp's right, and placed her wet, beating nose next to Scamp's right paw. "Scamp, I do love you."
Scamp's salted tears continued to splash against linoleum, and his groaning could be heard within the confined space of the shadowed corner. "You . . . you left me after you, you loved me tonight." This statement brought on a freshet of tears, now coating part of Angel's furry body.
"Scamp, please, please listen," as she licked her special companion's eyes in commiseration. "I know I'm pregnant, and I know there is nothing I can do about it now, but no matter who I'm with, or whose puppy this really is, you are my Scamp. What other Scamp could I love?"
At these words, the gray mutt pup shook his head, tears flying everywhere, and Angel and he shared a little laugh. "I love you, Angel. I still feel, though, that this family. ."
The words spoken caused Angel to take her left paw and muffle Scamp's muzzle. "That is an entire something else. I know how you are feeling, but we are a family. I cannot change your emotions, or your feelings. What you can do is work those feelings and emotions out on your own."
The two confused companions lay next to each other on the cool linoleum tile, quiet for a while. Sounds of a tranquil New England evening pierced through an open window from the living room: a rustling of leaves, the occasional car driving by, and a train in the distance. A mild, cool breeze continued to flow inside the two-story home of Jim Dear and Darling, and Tramp and Lady, and the pups. Soon, Angel and Scamp, both exhausted from a night of fighting, reconciliation, and passion, fell asleep in a lump deep behind and beneath the small rectangle table.
At four a.m., the grandfather clock rang again, and Angel woke up, her eyes fluttering with an angelic glow leaking from them. Shaking her roundish, cream head from some dusty dream, she glanced to her left and saw Scamp, lying on his left side, and. . . . well, his nice-endowed cock pointed straight out like a sword ready for battle, red-tipped and blushing all over, wet and glistening at the tippy top, ready for pleasure.
What is he dreaming about, considered Angel, as Scamp remained to pant in his slumber, soft sounds emitting from his half-open mouth, his tongue peeking. Must be something nice, Angel answered.
Without a second's hesitation, the sultry Pomeranian knew what she should do, and turned a half-circle to the left, so that the roof of her hot mouth was now on the yummy tip of Scamp's pride. The male pup yipped, but continued to sleep. Deciding to go against the slow and subtle, Angel thrust the whole of her best friend's cock deep into her maw and forced it all in, suckling it like a baby's bottle, filled with warm baby milk, ready to be gurgled up and drank, so that she may become fat and filled with the essence of her one true love, her Scamp. Yes, she figured, _she was pregnant by another, but she loved Scamp, and she would always be Scamp's. _
As she picked her speed up, Scamp's gray eyes opened, and his tail began to wag, but not a sound he made, although it became apparent to Angel that he had stirred for his breath had quickened and his hind feet had stirred. Her ministrations made Scamp's cock feel that it was a cloud of vapor mist, and that she really was an angel, that her mouth was made of warm and silky whipped cream with a billion pink tiny wagging tongues, insane and unconscious in their motions and existing for one purpose, and the one purpose was LOVE and LOVE was EVERYTHING, Scamp reckoned, as his girl, he now knew without a doubt, had him under her never-ending spell of rainbows and sweet things.
A billion pink tongues within whipped cream became a whirlpool of spicy, creamy egg whites and soaking flesh as Scamp's mighty eruption forced him to push Angel's head deep into his pubic sack, them becoming one, one flesh and blood, united in some form forever. Angel, her creamy, thick-furred ears pulled back and her innocent, yet whorish, eyes pulled wide in amazing surprise as her lover's giant outpouring fed her more than she had been prepared for. After many seconds, she pulled out, and received a few final gushes of immeasurable doses of dog cream, re-soaking her small, yet sluttish, face. Cum dripped everywhere, and soon, she found herself wiping it off all over Scamp's side.
Unlike before, Angel stayed by her lover's side, snuggled close to her Scamp, complete in her realization that she would be all by his side through everything, and that there would never be a moment in which she would forsake him. As the sound of another train crept through the window open nearby, both pups fell to sleep, through the remainder of the young dark morning hours, until the human and the rest of the canine family came downstairs around seven o' clock, to start another brand new sunny day in beautiful Westfield, Massachusetts.