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Cecil had gotten used to making his patrols alone. Ever since they'd made cutbacks on the men, some of the more experienced guys had been pressured into taking lone shifts driving round shadier neightbourhoods. To be frank, the town didn't have that much a high crime rate, just some seedy people getting up to petty things when the cameras weren't watching. All in all, it was a quiet place, more of a suburban ideal than a roughened city. Not a place like Century City. That place was a nightmare for any of the police force.

The Saint Bernard had actually begun to quite like the pleasant streets, with their quintessentially domestic trees paving the sidewalks in lush green canopies, a warm summer breeze drifting in through his open window as the cruiser purred along the road. The dog slumped back in his seat, idly watching a dream roll by his line of sight as he made the evening's rounds. Some kids were still out playing, kicking about a ball between them in the last remaining ounces of daylight, just before their mothers would call them in. The dog smiled as he slowed to let a kid retrieve his ball as it bounced waywardly across the road, making a small gesture with his paw and a soft smile to let him know it was alright. It was sweet. The little kid thanked him as he rushed back.

Cecil sighed, rubbing his forehead with one paw, the elbow rested against the door, as the other kept a firm grip on the steering wheel. He was rapidly approaching his forties, and he wasn't getting any younger - yet still he longed to put a ring on his and somebody else's finger. He'd been set up with plenty of girls over the years by his colleagues and friends, but he didn't dare tell them the truth. Even in the liberal attitudes of nowadays, he refused to come out to them not because he feared their reaction but because he was afraid of having to admit he'd been hiding for far too long. The guys he hung out with down at the bar had all settled down swiftly before they'd reached thirty-five, and the dog had just passed the cusp of his thirty-eighth, leaving him to be the oldest bachelor out of the lot of them. He'd tried, in the past, to pluck up the courage and face facts, attended a gay bar with incredible discretion, and even had a dabble on 'Tails Tales' to see if at least some hook-ups would help generate more confidence. But it never did. It just left him wanting, unable to find anyone in what felt like a sea of unassuming oppression. His job certainly didn't help either - the accusations that could be thrown your way, especially in cases like a cavity search. He'd be unable to properly do his duty. That, Cecil concluded, was ultimately an obstacle he might never face.

"Daggard, you there?" Cecil rolled his eyes, the idiot on the radio breaking protocol. They all did, practically. The town was so small that there were only about five or six of them - were the public to realise that, well... He wouldn't want to be the guy to stand up and face the riotous music.

He swapped paws on the steering wheel and leant to grab the matchbox radio piece.

"What is it Simpson?" He waited, putting the cool plastic against his bottom lip whilst he listened for the crackled response,

"Jogger's reported some kid tagging a wall right near Fifth Avenue. Best just to check it out, scare the fucker off."

Cecil rolled his eyes. Great police work right there, very commendable and honourable - this was exactly the reason he joined the force; to scare stupid teenagers thinking they're so call from spraying paint across a fucking wall in the hopes that won't do it again.

"On my way." Orders were orders. The canine was only a few blocks away, so he turned at the next corner.

There was no real rush. He cruised along at a slow speed, his eyes weary from a long day. It would be hard once again to return home to an empty home, to cook some microwave meal, and eat it alone in front of some menial gameshow where the presenter seemed to suck up more happiness than they actually put out. Cecil guessed, above it all, it would be an empty bed that hurt him most. The king size sanctuary for the night was more than capable of taking anybody far larger than he was, yet still it remained to be his solitary confines whenever he slept. Soft sheets would remain barely touched as it had only been his body to toss and turn by his lonesome, woken in the morning - he would often stretch out an arm across either direction, half wishing to fall upon some stranger snoozing beside him with a lopsided grin on their slumbering muzzle, but his paws were always met by the cool vacancy that surrounded him. That was what wounded him. To sleep and wake alone, granted the decades he'd spent looking. It was hell.

Cecil rubbed his eyes once again as he came up to Fifth Avenue. The place was practically deserted. A sprawling park tinged by the orange sun leered off in one direction whilst a row of shops marked the other side. Just ordinary stores, like a grocer's and a corner boozer that sold cheap alcohol; it wasn't the noblest part of town, but it scrubbed up well enough for the world to see. As Cecil drove along, he peered for where his delinquent might be. He wished the guy had buggered by the time he saw the cop car, realised he was about to get nicked, and made a run for it. That would have made the dog's job so much easier. A reported getaway, keep the area listed for surveillance and go home to that empty bed to get the misery of sleep over with. But no, whoever it was with a hood pulled up tightly about his face, decided he was going to play dumb and continued to spray in fluorescent red across the wall of an alley between two of the stories, half-hidden by dumpsters. Cecil huffed out and grabbed his hat from the passenger seat, parking up quietly and stepping out.

The heat of the setting sun hit him. The summer had brought about a wave of unusually hot weather recently, and whilst it was a great time to be a kid, it meant Cecil was left feeling stuffy and confined in the itchy uniform, suffocating as he performed his duty. He fixed his cap to blot out the sun from his eyes, and shifted slowly down the passage. Still the kid went on, arching his arm in low and high sweeps, the metal taste of acrid paint in the air. Cecil coughed, alerting the teenager finally to his presence,

"Care to explain what you think you're doing?"

The can was dropped immediately out of fright, the guy stumbling back and tripping up over his bag. There was a clatter of more aerosol canisters as they tumbled out across the ground, the contents spilling open in a rainbow of colours that incriminated the kid to a lot more than just one account of vandalism. Cecil dared to think they might have caught a repeat offender.

He looked to his soon-to-be detained idiot who thought he could get away with being a dick to his community. The Saint Bernard was shocked though, as he recognised who store back at him, wide-eyed and petrified.

"You're in deep shit, Mikey..."

Mikey was a puma, just about finally looking his age now that he'd recently turned twenty-four. He was infamous amongst the underlings at the station, simply because of the reputation his dad had unfavourably pinned him with. Ever since the youngster had been getting into trouble, his father would be there to dig him out of taking the rap for it. Whilst, by some miracle, the kid had grown up fearing the living daylights out of anything, his parents had refused to show any amount of discipline for the boy. It made Cecil pissed, as if he had the chance to have a child, he would never have let them grow up to be so sheltered and ignorant of the consequences to actions. Now Mikey was at an age where he could drink, buy guns, drive, gamble and still his father absented from teaching him the rights and wrongs of the world - not that he really needed to. It was more that the boy had to pay for them. Mikey knew damn well whenever he did wrong, because he became a snivelling pleading wreck.

"Mr Daggard, please!" He whimpered, his voice drawling with a sob, "Don't arrest me, I won't do it again, I promise!"

"You said that the last three times Mikey, and you were let off for all of them then." Cecil reached behind his back, unclipping the handcuffs from his belt. The puma wailed louder when he saw the dog brandish the cold steel clasps.

"Please don't arrest me!" He continued, rousing some attention from a few meandering pedestrians and civilians, "Don't let my dad find out!"

"Shut up Mikey," Cecil hissed under his breath as he jarred the boy to his feet, latching the cuffs on either wrist behind his back, "You're embarrassing yourself."

The cat resisted all the way to the car. He didn't go quietly, probably more detrimental to himself than Cecil to be caught with the chief's son, but he couldn't have cared less. He could probably throw the stupid brat into a cell for the night, but then he'd be forced to fill out the umpteen forms of paperwork just to make sure it all chalks up to standard. Then the chief would get involved... That would be messy.

Cecil opened the driver's side door to the backseat, pushing the puma's head down as the kid was pushed into the car like that novelty toy the dog saw on telly, about the spring-loaded snakes or something and how they were shoved into a can. The feline fought to stay out, to barter and beg, but the Saint Bernard was tired. He just wanted to go home, as much as it would kill him. He slammed the door shut upon the protesting puma and breathed a large sigh of the lingering cool air. He hated the pointless stuff.

He opened the driver door and stooped inside, buckling himself up whilst the puma sat in the back, making these odd softened whimpers. It was as though he'd reverted back to a child, incapable of taking the slightest bit of discipline and now resigning himself to whatever fate awaited him. As the canine glanced into the back mirror, he could make out the just the slightest quiver to Mikey's bottom lip. It was pitiful. A man his age should have more self-respect, at least enough not to cry when you've been caught doing wrong. The only reason, Cecil supposed, that he was kicking up this much of a fuss was down to his father working the same precinct the puma lived in. The guy must still be dependent on some kind of paternal help or simply wished to avoid being scorned at by the family. But, rules were rules.

"Can't you just throw me in a cell?" Mikey asked, taking a different tack now. Cecil glanced in his mirror again, eyes darting up to that rectangular window to the back.

"I intend to," Cecil said blankly, picking off his cap and throwing it onto the passenger seat once more.

"Then just not write it up? You know, don't let dad see..."

"I could lose my job for not following procedure." Another glance to the mirror, "Health and safety'd be on my ass." Mikey huffed,

"What about if you try and keep it between the guys, make sure he doesn't see the paperwork? I'll buy you all a round at the bar!"

"There're cameras in the cells, Mikey. Your old man's gonna know one way or another, and then we'd all be in the doghouse."

"I'd do anything just to have him find out..."

This wasn't really directed at the officer anymore, but Cecil took rapt attention of it. Anything... The name sounded foreign to him. It wasn't unusual to him; it didn't feel out of place, it was just a rare occurrence to have it offered to him so. Mikey would do anything... was that true? Anything was a big word, an expansive word. Anything went from the slightest whistle against a roaring wind to the loudest shout in a grand hall. Anything could mean everything. It could lead on to something. Anything was not just a word, but an invitation to whatever Cecil desired...

But he couldn't. No! It would be wrong! Mikey was the chief's kid. If he found out, there would be hell to pay. It'd practically be rape. Cecil wanted to push the thoughts out of his head, but as he stared back in that mirror, he began to see it all. Mikey's pretty little lips, ripe for filling with cock, and those hips of his, begging to be grabbed roughly and that tight ass ploughed until he moaned for him to cum up that beautiful rear of his. Cecil's paws gripped the steering wheel tighter and tighter until he felt he would crush the plastic in his clasp. If Mikey swore secrecy, if he didn't tell a soul and Cecil let him go with just a quick blowjob, maybe then... it'd help alleviate the boredom of wanking off alone to see vintage soft porno he still owned.

Just a blowjob. It would just be a blowjob.

It beat going to the station and facing the chief with his son, risking his career just to collar someone - the last guy who challenged the chief on grounds of attempting to follow through on procedure ended up in a desk job for complaints, and stayed there for the remaining nine years he was a cop before bitterly retiring. Same thing had happened; the guy had caught Mikey sneaking liquor from a store when he was fifteen and had attempted to make the arrest. His dad pulled rank and basically just told the poor officer his days of doing decent police work was over. It was brutal, and Cecil didn't want to go through that. This way, it was the best of both worlds. He got off, and so did Mikey.

Cecil pulled down the wrong turn-off, heading not for the station but the edge of town. Very rarely anybody ever ventured out here, and when they did it was purely by mistake. Thick woodland marked the crest of a hill along one side of the town that descended then into forest wilderness. It was a quiet place to be whenever you needed somewhere to just be alone - you could find your own spot amongst the wood and stay in solace for near enough forever. Often it caused havoc for the police whenever some kid was reported supposedly missing, a search party organised only for them to turn up an hour later completely bewildered as to all the fuss. It was also a notorious meeting point for a load of those 'swingers' and 'cottagers' from Tails Tales, Cecil had found, but that was nearer to the gas station area than out the direction he was heading. As he pulled into a clearing, he turned around to address the gormless-looking puma,

"Listen here, Mikey, these are your options. One: I can drive back to the station, throw you in a cell, and then let your dad know you've got yourself banged up again..."

"Or...?!" The puma was eager, insistent even, as though he were simply pleading for the alternative.

"Or..." Cecil replied measuredly, trying to hide the fear in his voice, not quite believing himself he could get away with what he was about to do, "Or, two: you come suck my dick and we pretend that I never caught you and this..." he gestured between the pair of them, "...never happened, got it?"

Mikey nodded.

"So what will it be?"

The response came back far quicker than Cecil had expected. He visibly relaxed when Mikey chimed "Two please!" as though he'd just been asked how many servings would he like for dinner or if he was looking to buy a newspaper - so casual, like. His pulse still continued to race as Cecil unlocked the doors, letting the cat out, unlatching the cuffs from his wrists and then swinging his own legs round so that he sat sideways upon his seat. His didn't say anything more to Mikey, his voice now muted in rigid fear that this could all go south horrendously quickly with the wrong move. The puma knelt upon the dusty dirt, his paws immediately going for the dog's crotch. Cecil cut back a whimper of fright, his job and reputation - even his worth as a decent fur - was on the line, and he kept very still as the feline opened up his fly. His bulge throbbed beneath the well-worn layer of boxer shorts, his body belying his true feelings despite the impossible to ignore sensation of absolute wrongness. It went beyond even the taboo of gay sex for the dog - this was his superior's son, about to give him head on some flimsy excuse. As he felt tentative caresses stroke across the fabric of his groin, he kept very still, as though it wasn't his career that was threatened but his very life.

"So big..." Mikey mumbled to himself, his fingers curling around the waistband. Cecil's breathing hitched slightly as those digits snagged onto the underwear, pulling them down slowly. He felt like his heart was attempting to escape, leaping up through his throat and pounding hard in his head. His pulse was a deafening bass as he watched with as impassive a look as he could muster, the puma slipping the boxers down just enough to let the dog's plump and thickening sheath free. A pink tip poked through the creamy white fur - Cecil couldn't have lied that this wasn't hot. It was beyond it... To have a young guy so willingly kneel down and be ready to take his member, it was a dream. If Cecil had known he could have gotten away with this sooner, he would have stalked the feline until he fucked up before fucking him.

Woah...

Where had that come from? This was just a blowjob...

Cecil looked back to the puma who's fingers were tugging down ever so gently the folds of his sheath. As the dog became harder, his length slipped gradually free until he felt a cool breeze whisper softly against the skin of his dick. He smelt ripe, with the thick smell of built-up pre and sweat over the course of the day from driving round in a car that might as well have been an oven on four wheels. Even the dog could smell it, and it turned up his nose. Goodness knows how it must have been for Mikey, but the feline seemed oblivious to it. His muzzle descended closer and closer to the dribbling tip as though it had been slowed down to a near crawling-pace, the tension mounting as each pressing second ticked on. Cecil had plenty of time to say no, to turn the puma down and to just let him go - to call it a day. He was tired, he could say, he wasn't thinking straight. It was plausible... in some shape or form. Maybe he could shift the blame to Mikey, say he was drunk. It wouldn't be too unbelievable, going off the kid's record. He'd deny it, but as if his dad would believe him.

The dog winced when he felt that first flick of tongue against his cock, following by the inevitable, plump lips, moulding around the swollen flaring pink of his cock. He watched, beginning to lose himself to the sensations, as his new bitch went down on him. The suckling warmth of that muzzle slowly enveloping his muzzle was the first touch he'd had from a guy in months, years even. Cecil had nearly forgotten the feeling of a tight mouth over his junk; the thought had him swelling harder alone. The puma moaned softly to himself, as he lowered his muzzle down further onto the cock. The Saint Bernard was happy to just let Mikey do all the work - something which he seemed both overly good at as well as far too eager to do. It was suspicious.

"Such a dirty slut..." Cecil hadn't even realised he'd spoken the words until they were tumbling out of his mouth. He didn't attempt to take them back either, letting them sit their pointedly in the air as though they were enough cause to stand for themselves. Mikey said nothing, simply blushing as he carried on bobbing along the dog's cock, lips bouncing against the throbbing knot.

It was then that Cecil began to understand. Mikey, like him, was a closet homosexual. It made sense... The rebellious acting out wasn't a drive for attention but a challenge to his father's authority. He behaved badly because it then distracted from the glaring issues and pushed his father to be disappointed in him with some other sense. The poor parenting skills had left the puma without a role model to look up. Cecil, much like many of the guys on the force, probably provided that male icon, heck, even a father figure to him... He'd never considered himself a daddy before, but he was most likely getting to the age where it would suit him most. He was buff, rugged, dominant and had clear intentions of what he wanted, and now he'd found a younger pet to train for his whims. That's why Mikey was so eager. This wasn't a nightmare scenario of rape playing out but what must have been a long held fantasy of finally getting screwed by one of the cops.

Cecil growled, just as his dick went especially deep into the cat's throat. His balls ached for that special sort of release only achievable with another, where it wasn't just his paw and a bottle of lube. If this was the kid's fantasy though, surely he'd want to take it all the way.

It was only supposed to be a blowjob...

"Strip boy," the dog ordered, switching to that mode he entered whenever he was dealing with true criminals. When Mikey hesitated, he didn't even think of whether he was doing the right thing. The words came naturally now, "That wasn't a fucking question. Now do it!"

The puma staggered to his feet but otherwise did as he was told. Cecil just sat back stroking his spit-slicken cock whilst he watched the cat hastily scrabble to remove every piece of clothing from his body. He didn't stop until he was left standing in a humiliating bright pink thong, to which Cecil just smiled, realising he'd hit the submissive jackpot.

"All of it."

There was another moment's hesitation, but the Saint Bernard didn't need to address it. Mikey bent down, his rump left raised high in the air before he stepped delicately out of his underwear, now standing completely nude before Cecil in the lay-by. Anybody could have come along, purely by chance, and spotted them there. The jig would have been up then. But Cecil was beyond caring. There had always been rumours about this, where officers would take a little extra where they could get it. Nothing illegal, mind, but it was most certainly questionable and defined simply as a 'perk' to the job. Cecil had thought it a myth though, an office rumour spread to trick the rookies into doing something stupid for the veterans to laugh at. But here was his 'perk', naked and willing, eyes glazed over in hungry lust.

"Hands on the hood of the car," Cecil commanded once more, "now!"

The puma had his body hunched over the bonnet within an instant, as though his paws had been magnetised to the metal. As Cecil stood up out of the car and circled his new bitch, he could see the trembling that ever so slightly shook Mikey's body. It wasn't fear though - no, the bitch smelt too much of lust for that - it was excitement. A dream come true for him, finally acting itself out now. Cecil wondered whether the puma purposefully went out to do bad shit until he either got caught like now, offered a deal to have sex and walk free, or to go to jail and become the inmates' chew toy. In either case, it was a win-win to the feline, except his father kept vetoing every disciplinary action against him. Maybe the chief was aware to what Mikey was trying to do...

He'd never find out though. Mikey would swear to secrecy for a chance to enact his little fantasy again. Cecil was going to have so much fun breeding this slut...

His paw smacked against the feline's ass cheek, making the younger male jolt slightly in his position, but as testament to his commitment, he didn't flinch away or move. He stood there and took it like a man; a trait so easily missed amongst some Cecil had been with. He repeated the slaps a couple of more times to test his flesh before he brought himself in close, pressing his cock between those reddened buns. Mikey gasped, arching his back and leaning into the dog's frame. His eyes were clenched shut, perhaps to close off the world so it could exist back in that fantasy realm he'd long since dreamt of, and his mouth was opened in a silent moan. The dog nipped gently against the puma's neck as he leant his hips back, pushing down his cock with his thumb before grinding it into the feline's crack. The thinned tip pushed gradually into the flesh, darting into the hole and spearing it open. Mikey's oral work before had lubed the dog up, but only barely. Mikey yowled and writhed as Cecil went in nearly dry, clasping one paw over the cat's muzzle whilst another snaked down to find the puma's smaller, rigid cock. He stroke the male off quickly as he entered, not stopping until his knot would bump and grind against the feline's hole - lube was just an annoyance for the officer. He preferred things to work naturally, for his bitches to take his dick without any problem or need of assistance. Mikey would have to learn that he'd need to be always have a sloppy hole ready for fucking from now on, or else he was gonna get more brutal fucks like this one.

Cecil drew back his hips, Mikey grunting loudly in a mix of pleasure and pain. He was clearly enjoying it, or else his twig wouldn't be as hard as a rock within the dog's paw, and for each devastatingly agonising thrust in, he would only throb harder. The Saint Bernard growled, the puma's stance slipping slightly as the sheer force of pushing in his cock against such a tight, hot hole was leaving him weak; the dog snuck for his handcuffs once again, moving his grip from the feline's groin and mouth and snatching his forearms from beneath him. The cat fell onto the hood with a dull thud, his face pressed against the warm, dusty metal as Cecil fixed the handcuffs onto him with his arms behind his back. The feline struggled against them once they were firmly locked, realising he was now once more at the dog's mercy.

Still with his cock in the gripping hole, Cecil now bent over his prey, his stance turning feral as he resorted to the tried-and-tested method of doggy-style. He bared his teeth and growled deep and low into the puma's ear, a forewarning as to the impending orgasm that was now building. Returning his paw to the puma's crotch, he made sure the male was still enjoying himself, his fingers coming back oozing with pre as his cock sputtered against the wheel hubcap, leaving sticky streaks down the veneer of silver. Mikey's cries though were reaching louder levels, unsurprising then that his dick was responding likewise, as the Saint Bernard began to slam his knot in with heavier thrusts. Seed-laden balls slapped against the feline's ass whilst the knot pushed a little deeper with every try. It was only a matter of time before the cat took it all, and both of them knew that. Mikey remained relatively quiet, releasing himself to just a few grunts and groans whenever he felt it necessary, but Cecil became aggressive, his tone harsh and the words colourful,

"Fucking bitch..."

Slap slap slap.

"Gonna knot you like the bitch you are..."

Slap slap slap. Groan.

"You want that? You want me to breed you?

Slap slap slap. Moan...

"Yes..."

"Bitch...!" A threatening tone, accompanied by a thick snarl,

"Yes please sir!" Mikey hollered with his voice shrill and peaking on an orgasm that had been rutted out of him, "Please breed me like a slut!"

Cecil didn't need any other invitation, even if it was just for show. He shifted his footpaws just a little amongst the dirt and rocks and began to bang against the puma's ass until he felt resistance give way, like a way being hammered down by a wrecking ball until finally it gave up the fight. Cecil felt his knot slip a little too deep, deeper than before, followed by that familiar and astonishing feeling of being dragged inside by those muscles which had for so long willed to keep him out. Now they beckoned him in, rushing him home as his cock sucked into hot folds of inner flesh. His head pressed against that sweetest spot and he made sure to jab that that point, thrusting the last inch he could until his balls could hold out no more, emptying their contents into the searing depths. He howled loudly, truly animalistic, as he bred his bitch; his knot swelled to its larger size and tied him with the feline's hole, leaving the two of them now joined, crotch-to-ass. Cecil pumped his cum into Mikey, his tongue lolling to one side as he gave no regard anymore to the consequences of what they've just done. Fuck the chief, fuck the people, and most definitely fuck the police. He'd lie with whoever he wanted. Their relations were irrelevant when the puma strutted about with a hot ass and little to no complaint about the sex. Even as Cecil came down from his soaring high, he looked over the feline's hips to see the fat jets of cum that had splattered against his wheel, now sliding down in a thick trickle, ever so slowly heading to the floor. Throughout all that, something must have flicked within the big cat for him to lose himself without warning, with no control. It made Cecil's dick quiver in the wet hole, soaking in his own seed, to think that he'd made the kid jizz himself with fucking alone. But for now, something had to be done about the mess...

Cecil pulled his hips back, the knot tugging against the rim which in turn forced Mikey to take a precarious step back. He fell to his knees, Cecil squatted over him and sitting just upon the lip of his raised ass - the puma's muzzle was level with the wheel, pushed nearly into the filthy ground as he stared his orgasm straight in the face.

"Get licking bitch; I want it to be so shiny that I can see my face in it."

As much as Mikey didn't want to, knowing that he wouldn't just be licking up his own mess, he did as he was told. Cecil was right... Something inside him had flicked, and whilst he couldn't explain it, he felt compelled to follow every order the Saint Bernard now wished to give him.

"I best not catch you loitering around the corner of Fourth Street and Oakley Avenue tomorrow," Cecil grunted, riding out the last remaining waves of his climax, pushing Mikey's face against the rim, "Or else I'll have to perform a full body search... of every cavity." He paused, before adding with a smirk, "Twice."

Mikey blushed heavily as he pushed his tongue against the dirty hubcap, lapping up his cum whilst his ass burnt with the heavy fucking he'd just received and longing for the plenty more he expected to now have.