FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"I keep seeing him everywhere, Mr. Calahan," I sighed, laying my ears flat.

"You're doing it again, Susan. Call me Nick. If we're going to make any progress, you need to -"

I cut him off. "I know, Nick. Sorry, force of habit." My therapist and I had decided that my issues with authority were getting in the way of my improvement, and he was probably right. I only called him Mr. Calahan when the anxiety was rising again.

Nick, a rather stately Saint Bernard, leaned back in his swivel chair, which uttered a high pitched squeak that we both ignored. I always expected him to have a keg of brandy around his neck like those mountain rescue dogs. Instead, he drank water. He took a lap of water from his cup, and sighed.

I knew what he was going to say.

"You know it can't be him. Hunter was 3 when he ran away. That was..."

Maybe I'd trust Nick a bit more if he didn't have to recalculate the timeline every time I brought up Hunter. I jumped in, "Six years ago."

Nick smiled, his floppy, black lips peeling back to show just enough teeth to be polite but not threatening. A practiced, fake smile. "So he would be nine now. That's fairly old for a Bluetick Coonhound, especially one that's been living on the streets for six years."

I knew what I wanted to say, but we'd been here a thousand times before. I would say that coonhounds can live to eleven, or more in rare cases, and Nick would stare sadly at me and start spouting off all the other reasons Hunter couldn't be at the corner of 15th and Wales, and then at the Bus Station, and waiting in the parking lot outside my apartment. He'd wonder why I'd never been able to snap a picture of him with my camera, and I'd say my hands were shaking too much. He didn't really know how much Hunter affected me. My tail drooped, but since I'm a Pembroke Corgi, Nick couldn't tell.

"How do you know?" I asked suddenly, lips curling back to show my teeth. "How do you _know_it isn't him, following my scent. Hunter _knows_I'm in heat - he's a scent dog. Every time I'm on my period, that's when I see him. He's following me, Nick, he's hunting me down, and he won't stop until he catches me!"

I had my head in my hands, panting and crying, suffocating in Nick's office. I could hear him droning throughout the whole rant, his low, booming voice a soft mush. The knew the words without being able to hear them: Calm down, you're having a panic attack, take deep breaths, etc., etc.

When my ears started to work again, the mumble of his voice turned to words. "- not a person, he's a dog. He is probably dead, and even if he weren't, he wouldn't remember you. You know this, Susan, you're letting your fear take over again. Susan, Susan. You know why you only see him when you're in heat?"

I swallowed. "Yes?"

"That's when you're most vulnerable. When you remember what he almost did to you. Your subconscious is thinking of Hunter, and so you think you see him."

"I _see_him!" I gasped, staring straight into Mr. Calaha - Nick's - eyes.

"Oh, I don't doubt that you see dogs. Lord knows there are too many strays in this town. But it's not Hunter. You see a Black Lab and your mind shows you Hunter. You see a Golden Retriever and your mind shows you Hunter. You catch a flicker of motion in your eyes and you could _swear_it was Hunter. But it can't be, and it's not."

I stared off to the right. It was no use talking to Nick. I wasn't having delusions. My childhood dog was actually tracking me down. The coonhound that had almost raped me when I was thirteen was still coming, after all these years, to finish the job. He wouldn't rest, wouldn't stop, wouldn't _die_until he caught me.

Nick sighed. "I can tell you're not listening, Susan. Look, I don't think you're going to believe me until you manage to actually snap a picture of these dogs you see. Until you can see for yourself that your fears are irrational. Here's your homework for next session: the next time you see Hunter, don't run. I want you take a deep breath, and count to three, grab your cellphone, and snap a picture. You'll see that it isn't Hunter. I don't know that we can make any progress until you admit to yourself that your mind is lying to you."

Was he right? Sometimes I doubted myself. Nick made a lot of sense, of course. What kind of dog stalks a human, anyway? But I saw him. Every month, there he was, tracking me down. Was I just making it up? No, I couldn't be! Still, if I could snap a picture and show Nick the Bluetick Coonhound, maybe he'd start to believe me?

"Okay. I'll try it," I promised.

* * * * *

As soon as we were done with the session, I ran to the bathroom. The effort of keeping up my mask left me panting, and I needed a sink full of cold water. I splashed the liquid across my face, pink tongue dangling out as I cooled myself off. It's not that it was hot in Nick's office...but there was something I couldn't tell him. I couldn't tell my boyfriend, Aaron, and I couldn't tell my parents either.

When I saw Hunter, or perhaps when I _thought_I saw him, my heart started to race, my hands started to shake, and a cold, shuddering fear took over my body, yes. But that wasn't all. As much as I was terrified of Hunter, whenever I saw him, I started to get wet.

It started right away after the dog ran away. That day was seared into my mind. I was just playing in the backyard, kicking a soccer ball while Hunter chased it. I adored the dog to that point - I swear I spent more time with him than I did with my friends. Not really the usual thing for a thirteen-year-old girl, but I wasn't exactly the usual sort of person. While the other girls were growing taller, and their boobs were getting bigger, I stayed short and flat. No one saw me as anything but that short, funny little Corgi - I looked more like I was 10. Even now that I'm twenty, I'm only four foot nine. No one saw me for who I was.

Except Hunter. The coonhound didn't care that I was short, and awkward, and wasn't into pretty clothing or horses. He adored me for me, always greeting me with a goofy grin, tail wagging. I scratched his belly and he ran around, bringing me things. I taught him to bring me my shoes, though he did eat them one time.

My parents didn't think twice about it, until that day.

Obviously, I was a late-bloomer. I didn't know I was going into heat, and my parents didn't know either, but Hunter did. My memory of that moment flashes by so fast I can't really remember it precisely. All I know comes in flashes:

Running along with the ball - tripping, skinning my arm on the gravel - starting to get up, but Hunter was there. Not there to reassure me - seeing pink between his legs - his muzzle pushing beneath my stubby, orange tail. Feeling his tongue through my panties - crying "bad dog!" - his paws on my back. Felt him throbbing there - without my panties, that would have been it - the cloth stretching, poking into my quivering spade. I knew that they wouldn't last - the panties would rip or fall - old enough to know what was happening now.

"No!" I cried both then, and into the mirror, heart racing. The cold water was helping, but not much. How could he do that to me? The dog I trusted and loved? I know now that he didn't know any better - to him I was just a bitch in heat, but I still couldn't believe it. If my dad hadn't noticed what was happening and rushed outside with my BB-gun, Hunter would have raped me, and he might have even knocked me up. As if my status at school could get any worse!

The bullets grazed the coonhound's shoulder and he ran off. A fourth shot struck Hunter on the left ear, ripping through it. The gate was open because we all trusted Hunter to come when called, but that worked against us. Stinging from the BBs, he bounded out of the yard and down the street. That was the last that anyone (but me) has seen him.

Dad picked me off the ground, though he couldn't stop my crying. He and mom explained what had happened, apologized, and said Hunter wouldn't be back. They repeated over and over that everything would be okay, that day, the next day, the next week - but it wasn't.

I had nightmares - visions of Hunter raping me. I started to see him around town, but only when I was in heat. Non-stop, for six years. I hoped that entering college would help (maybe if I'd gone out of state?). No luck. I hoped getting new friends, a boyfriend, might help. But I couldn't tell Aaron what was happening to me. I couldn't explain why I only wanted to have sex once a month.

I couldn't tell Aaron that when we were having sex, I was picturing him as Hunter.

What was wrong with me? I hated Hunter, I still wept uncontrollably thinking of him, but whenever I started thinking about sex, I thought of him. It was like even though he hadn't manage to impregnate me, he'd impregnated my mind. I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt whenever I fantasized about him. About him pulling me to the ground, pinning me with his teeth, and ploughing me. About him sneaking into my room at night and waking me up with a vicious growl. Did I _want_to be raped? Was it _my_fault that he mounted me so long ago? Maybe if I hadn't been so close to him, he wouldn't have done it, and nothing would ever have happened. Why didn't I treat him like a dog, instead of a friend?

I shook the water from my muzzle, letting it drip slowly into the sink alongside my tears. Shivering, I slid my hand below the waist of my skirt, below the elastic on my panties. I knew what I would find, but I wanted proof. My paw touched my mound and came away sticky.

Even just talking to my therapist about Hunter made me wet. Surely, Mr. Calahan could smell me when I was in heat, but could he sense my arousal? I'd never told Nick about my fantasies. He'd call me a pervert, and deny that I'd ever been (nearly) raped at all. So would Aaron. The biggest secret I kept from my boyfriend wasn't what had happened with Hunter, but what I _wanted_to happen.

I washed my hand and listened to the bathroom music until my breathing regulated. I thought about wiping off my vulva, but my panties were soaked - it would have to wait until I got home.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I asked the stranger in the mirror.

It was dark when I finally exited the building, almost an hour since the session had ended. I waved to the desk clerk who knew me by name, putting up my mask once again. I smiled, and perked up my pointed ears. Thankfully, I didn't have to wag my stub tail politely - she couldn't see it beneath my pleated skirt anyway. Tucking my purse beneath my arm, I walked out the sliding doors into the parking lot.

The crisp Autumn air felt good after the waves of heat I'd felt upstairs. My bike was still locked in the bike rack - no one had taken advantage of the darkness to try to steal the wheel, but I decided to walk the rest of the way to my dorm. The fresh air would do me good. It was only a block or two, and well lit.

On the way, I did my best to think of Aaron. The Beagle had always been nice to me, from the moment we met in Chemistry, and we had seemed a great fit for each other. But though we spent lots of time together, playing Dance Central, eating lunch and dinner, studying, we never talked about the important things. Did we want to think about getting married? Having puppies? What happened to you when you were thirteen?

I felt like I was living a lie for him, pretending I was just a normal girl when I was anything but that. I said and did all the things a girlfriend should do - at least until it came to the bedroom. He didn't seem to mind, but I never said 'yes' unless I was menstruating. We took precautions of course. But even then, the first time we did it I was in another place. It hadn't worked for me.

Eventually I got up the courage to ask him to talk to dirty to me. Aaron was awkward about it at first, but he'd gotten the hang of it, and I'm pretty sure he knows that I really_like it when he talks 'rapey'. "You know you want it." "Take it, bitch!" "What did you _expect_to happen, dressed like that?" Aaron learned what it took to make me howl, but he never asked _why.

And I never told him. Maybe it was time to talk about it. I felt guilty enough for my feelings, I shouldn't feel guilty about lying to my boyfriend, too. "I'm going to tell him," I said, though my voice quavered.

My dorm was straight ahead, and I knew that Aaron would be expecting me. I was already late. Glancing at my phone, I saw three missed calls. I took a deep breath and walked forward, enjoying the rush of lilacs from the bushes beside me.

There was something else in the bushes beside me.

At first I didn't believe it, but the flicker from the corner of my eye turned my head. There, at the end of the row, between me and my dormitory, stood a dark silhouette. I stopped midstep, heart beating faster. Was it him?

The dog stepped out into the light, the same size and shape as Hunter. No, it was_Hunter, it _had to be. He was only fifteen feet away, the closest I'd ever glimpsed him, and staring straight at me. I wasn't imagining things! His black and white spotted body with two large splotches of black in just the right places. Even his large, drooping ears were the same, down to the cut on his left ear.

"No..." I gasped, taking a step back, even as the dog who had tormented me for years took a step forward. I grabbed my phone, fumbling with it. It's not Hunter, I'm just imagining things, I told myself.Count to three, count to three, and take a picture!

1...

"Stay back!" I gasped, swiping the screen on my phone back to the main interface, where the camera was. The dog didn't listen, all four feet moving, and speeding up toward me.

2...

I took another step back, and another, thankful that I was wearing tennis shoes instead of heels. I tapped furiously until the camera finally loaded, but it was in video mode. I tapped again and the camera started recording, but how could I tell if it got Hunter or not?

3...

I quickly brought the phone up to record the coonhound, but when I saw the beast bounding toward me I jumped. "No!" I gasped, and flat shoes or not, my heel hit a crack in the sidewalk. My foot stopped, but I kept going, spinning backward onto my back. Reeling, I threw my hands back to catch me, the phone going flying.

Thud! Crack!

My head swam. _What happened?_I was on my back, vision slowly coming back. I must have hit my skull when I landed. _The phone!_Glancing around, I couldn't see it. Where did it go?

Wait, forget the phone, what about HUNTER?

As soon as I remembered what had just happened, I felt it. A steady pressure between my legs. Horrified, I lifted my throbbing head to see the white-and-black spotted hound in front of my, his tail wagging viciously. I _couldn't_see his head; he'd thrust his snout beneath my skirt.

"No, stop! Help!" I screamed, but with the football game, I had no idea if anyone would hear me. The coonhound was slathering his tongue across my soaked panties, just has he had done six years before. My vulva stood tall and rigid, blood rushing to meet his eager licks, only thin fabric to dull the sensation.

Frantic, I tried to kick him away, but he was already firmly lodged between my legs. I placed both hands on the animal's head, pushing him away, but dizzy as I was, I couldn't overpower him. I was helpless to resist as he assaulted me.

The phone!

It must have landed behind me, since I was backpedaling so fast. Arching my neck up, I saw it, just three feet beyond me, lying face down on the sidewalk. Is it broken? I had to reach it, had to get a picture and prove once and for all that Hunter was real. Then, I would run, I would fight, I would kick and bite. I knew exactly what the dog wanted, but I would be damned if he was going to get it!

Panting, I rolled over onto my side, Hunter's licks never ending. His tongue curled up across my pointed pussy, pushing hard against the cloth that barred his path. I could _hear_the fabric stretching, starting to rip. I didn't have much time!

I crawled along the ground, slowing getting my bearings until I was up to my hands and knees. There was the phone - I grabbed it, fingers outstretched to their limit, praying that it wasn't broken. The screen flickered on, the video camera still playing. Thank God!

Whumph!

Just as I angled the phone, the dog, both heavier and stronger than me, leaped onto my back, his bulk pushing me forward so hard that I dropped the phone. The thin, black device bounced twice before rolling to a stop in the grass. I reached out for it hopelessly, only to see that it was facing me, the screen showing the video capture. God really must be watching out for me, I thought - the camera was centered on me, and I could even see Hunter in the picture, his spotted paws wrapped around my hips as he scaled my back.

There's my proof... I thought, no time to celebrate. I had other things to worry about!

I tried to squirm out from under the vicious predator, but his grip was too strong. Everything was repeating - once again Hunter was on me, humping away at my rump. It was just like my memories, the way his tapered cock pushed and tore at my soaked panties. How long would that thing barrier last?

"Somebody! Anybody!" I yelled, trying to punch or kick the coonhound to no avail. On my hands and knees I was helpless against the big brute, and I couldn't even curl into a ball with his strong paws tugging on me. Why couldn't I have worn pants!?

He grunted and groaned lewdly as he plugged away at my pussy, the high-pitched sound of cloth ripping reaching my flattened ears. Each thrust I whimpered, expecting the next one to be the one that finally burrowed through and let his slimy, fertile cock reach its life-long target. I grabbed weakly at the dog's paws around my waist, but I couldn't dislodge him or anything. I was trapped, and this time my father wouldn't be here to save me.

"No! Please!" I whined, whether begging for Hunter to stop, or for someone to come rescue me, I didn't know. I glanced at the phone, realizing that while I had my proof, it was too late. He'd gotten me, and I would be his, and all the phone would do is record the irrevocable act.

Instinctively, I lowered my tail, but the little orange puff ball was as useless as my underwear. Dripping as my panties already were, they tore easily, and I knew my time was up. My last ditch effort was to yelp, "Bad dog!"

He cared as much now as he did then.

Riiiiiiiiiiiip!

I had only a fraction of a second to hear the sound of my last line of defense ripping away, and then I felt him. That wet, slimy cock tore through the cloth, ramming forward with more than enough momentum. Hunter _howled_as he took me, sliding deep into my unprotected vagina.

I screamed as he penetrated me. He'd won, and I'd lost. His fat cock spread my puffy, heat-swollen spade wide, the sudden tight wetness spurring the beast on that much more. He panted and whimpered, pounding me even harder as if determined to slam his cock right up against my cervix, and I didn't doubt for a second that he would.

"Oh God, no!" I cried, trying not to look at the tiny video screen recording every second of this violent abuse. If I don't do something, he's going to knock me up! I was deep in my heat, and I somehow knew he'd been saving himself all these years, just for me. Hunter's swollen balls smacked_loudly against my rump, throbbing full of all the cum he would need to make sure I was his. _What will Aaron think?

I moaned.

There were tears in my eyes, the moment I'd been dreading for almost a third of my life had come, Hunter had found me and he was raping me, but I moaned. All those evenings pretending Aaron was holding me down and filling my helpless pussy, imagining the two-legged Beagle was a four-legged Bluetick, nights spent wracked with guilt at the thought that I might_like_ to be raped, and now that it was happening...

"No...what's wrong_with me!?" I gasped, refusing to look in the camera to see that I was rocking my hips up and down against the horny canine, my pussy_slurping noisily up and down his oily, veiny cock. I should be screaming for help, or grabbing the dog's fur and twisting until he couldn't take it anymore, but instead, I found my hand sliding down my blouse, hiking up my skirt, brushing through the tattered remains of my panties and stopping. I reached out with my paw where my swollen spade stretched wide, shivering as I felt his heady pumping. The soft flesh stretched and tightened around him like a perfectly-tailored glove, like I was _designed_for him.

That's when I felt his knot. Aaron had one too, but not like Hunter's. The coonhound's was already bigger, and still growing, pushing firmly past my fingers into my aching cunt. I knew what would happen if he plugged me up with that - there'd be no turning back. I'd be his until he was done with me, his entire, churning load swimming in my stomach, splattering every nook and cranny of my womb in search of my defenseless eggs.

If I could keep his knot clear, I'd have a much better chance of walking away from this without any surprises next month. But instead of sliding my fingers down to grip the growing bulge and keep it back, or better, clawing at his genitals, I found my hand sliding to the waistband of my panties as if I could pull them down.Why? The cloth was already torn, but I felt like I was moving almost with muscle memory...why would I try to _take off_the only thing that had protected me?

Memories flooded back, coursing through my brain despite the grunting, drooling dog assaulting my rump. Six years ago, he hadn't gotten this far, but he was there, on my back, poking and prodding my cloth-covered vulva. Now, though, a new memory was there. I'd always known that if my Dad hadn't saved me, my panties would have torn or fallen, but why would they have fallen? Now I remembered, and my chest felt cold. I was going to pull them down.

Was I a pervert, even as a thirteen-year-old? I knew about the facts of life at the time thanks to health class. With a horny dog humping on my back, only one thing could happen if I slid my panties off! In the very midst of the most traumatizing betrayal of my life, was I turned on?

And now, against my will, I was finally living my dream. I wanted to retch onto the ground. I was as disgusting as I'd always thought, a girl that validated the notion that girls want to be raped. I felt like a traitor to my entire gender, and despite the disgust welling inside of me, I couldn't stop bucking my hips and moaning!

I dropped my hand to the ground, making no effort to stop Hunter now. I just lay shuddering beneath him, tears matting the fur around my eyes. He strained and pumped against me, oblivious to my fear and loathing. He didn't care about me, he only cared about my sweet-smelling cunt and the promise that awaited his soon-to-be-emptied balls. I felt the slap, slap of his knot spreading my spade each time he pushed in and pulled out, growing bigger by the second. Soon, he wouldn't be able to pull out. I whined, but that's what I wanted, wasn't it?

"No!" I gasped, looking back over my shoulder.

But not at Hunter. I was looking further back, at the stoop of the nearest dormitory. No one was there, but I could picture him anyway. Another repressed memory. I'd screamed 'no' six years ago, but not at the dog. Running down the stairs in my mind's eye was my father, holding the beebee gun to his shoulder, aiming at Hunter. Why would I tell my father not to save me? Was I _that_depraved?

No. That wasn't it. I didn't want him to hurt Hunter. I didn't even want him to see what we were doing. What had started as an accidental trip in the backyard had gotten so far not just because of the coonhound sensing a fertile bitch and taking it. I had _encouraged_it!

How could I have forgotten? Once I'd fallen, he'd sniffed me, sure, but I didn't try to stop him. I knew I shouldn't, but I was alone in the backyard, and his nose had felt so good. I knew what he wanted, but I wanted it to. Hunter was the only being that ever liked or understood me. I always remembered yelling, "Bad dog!", but I had only said that when the coonhound threatened to stop.

I hadn't wanted to be raped. It was never rape in the first place! I'd told_the dog to mount me, I was even about to lower my panties for him when my dad saw what was happening. I was so stupid to risk what I was doing in our backyard, and we got caught, but I never expected Dad to _shoot him!

After Hunter fled, I was a weeping, crying mess, but not because I'd almost been raped like my parents repeated to me again and again until I couldn't remember what had really happened. The guilt that I felt wasn't for wanting to be raped, it was for making such a stupid mistake that tore my best friend and true love from my life.

Now I was crying for a different reason. I gasped, "Oh, Hunter, I'm so sorry!"

He couldn't really know what was going on in my head, but I could hardly believe his loyalty. Year after year he'd followed me, only for me to run away from him. Yet when my love failed, his remained steadfast. It was six years too late, but there on the sidewalk in the dark we were finally together.

I dug my claws into the concrete, thrusting my nub-tail to the side and whining, "Do it, Hunter. Make me a mom!"

He panted and groaned, slamming his dick deeper and deeper until his heavy balls _smacked_against my thighs. I clenched down around him each time he tried to pull back, desperate to lock myself down around his fat knot. He was so huge that I could feel him _thudding_up against my unprotected womb, making me squeal like the Corgi bitch that I was. I watched the video on the camera now, a perfect view of our bodies straining back and forth against each other, our tongues dangling and drooling.

Hunter may have been giving his all this whole time, but only now did I thrust back with the same energy. I felt like I was floating, so light from the lost burden of guilt. I finally understood my warm feelings for the creature I'd been told again and again had tried to rape me. I didn't fantasize about rape, I fantasized about Hunter, and anyone who said I couldn't love a dog could go fuck themselves. I pumped back and forth, heedless of how visible we might be on the public sidewalk. No one had come to help me, so no one was there to see me now.

I whined. Hunter's knot was starting to stick, tugging out of me with a wet_schlurp!_ each thrust. I knew it wouldn't be long now. "Good boy!" I gasped, wagging my stump wildly. Every time he pulled away I whimpered, squeezing harder. I needed him locked inside of me - I'd wanted this since my first heat. "Breed me!"

Almost as if he understood me, the big coonhound grunted and leapt forward, slamming his thighs flush with mine, his cock shuddering inside of me. I squealed and clenched down hard, and this time I didn't let him go. He pulled back, but my pussy sealed like a vice around him, bulging out like a softball around his still-growing knot. "Oh...yessssssss!" was all I could say.

Hunter was merciless now, his center of mass now heavily on my back. He pumped and pushed back and forth like a piston, short, sharp thrusts that made my bulging pussy squeak and squirm. I felt the howl building in my throat, the way his knot _thudded_against my clit sending me higher and higher with each second, until I felt like I was about to explode. My ears were flat, but I could still hear the soft _splurts_as he prepared himself for the first, massive flood.

God, what am I doing!? I couldn't get pregnant now, much less to an animal! Raising a pup was hard enough without being enrolled full time in college. I could sure bet that I wouldn't be with Aaron after this, and what would my parents say? Would _anyone_help a Corgi slut who got herself filled up with four-legged puppies? I was making the biggest mistake of my life, but it was a bit late now.

And it sure didn't _feel_like a mistake.

"I love you, Hunter!" I moaned, dissolving into a shuddering mess beneath him. My vision blurred worse than when I'd hit my head on the concrete as I whined in ecstasy, squeezing down around my love as I waited for the inevitable.

Hunter bellowed out, almost covering up the high-pitched_squirt!_ as his balls released inside of my primed and ready womb. I felt the thick fluid gushing deep, _glugging_and filling me up to the brim. I dropped my jaw and howled, bucking my hips and milking him for all he was worth. Too late for second thoughts; I was Hunter's now, and without some sort of miracle, I was going to be leaving this tie with a parting gift. "Don't stop!" I gasped, leaning forward to allow even more of his bubbling cream to pour into my cunt.

He crooned as he came, and I could feel his balls pulsing up against my thighs. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that he was wagging furiously, finally claiming the bitch he'd chased for 6 years. I reached beneath me and cupped his balls, massaging them gently to squeeze out every last drop into my shuddering rump.

When he was finally done, he made a move to turn around on me, but I grabbed his shoulder, leaning back to kiss the Bluetick Coonhound on the muzzle. He licked my mouth gladly, and our tongues entwined. Only then did I let him go, panting rump to rump on the dark sidewalk, wondering if someone would find us before his enormous knot finally shrank.

* * * * *

"Susan, that's a very interesting story," I say, tapping my coffee cup.

"It's not a story," she said, as stubborn as ever. "That's how it really happened."

I glanced the young Corgi over. She certainly seemed convinced. "I'm willing to entertain the idea that Hunter wasn't trying to rape you six years ago. Certainly I've read papers about young boys and girls seeking companionship among their animal friends. And if, as you say, you no longer feel anger, fear, or guilt about what happened, I can hardly complain."

"I'm completely better," she assured me.

"Is that so? So you don't see Hunter following you around town anymore?"

"Not around town..." she said carefully.

I blinked. "What do you mean by that? Did you see him again? Did you get a picture with your phone?"

"Better than a picture," she said, smiling. "A video. Well, _two_videos. I wouldn't want to send you the first one."

Not a good sign. Perhaps six years ago she had consensually allowed her dog on her back, but the dog had certainly been shot and run away. There was no way that a dog would be following her around for so long, especially since he'd most likely have died years ago. "And you are certain the dog is Hunter?"

She nodded. "Down to the wounded ear. I'll email you the video after our session today."

I felt a slow sense of dread. Was she confusing some other dog for her long-lost pet? Perhaps her condition was worse than I thought. I briefly considered having her committed for more thorough examination, but I didn't want to lose that kind of rapport with Susan just yet. I said, "I look forward to it."

After she left, I sat at my desk, watching my email. Sure enough, an hour or two later, I heard the ding of an incoming email. Opening Susan's message, I read, "Hey, Nick. Thanks for helping me. I credit you for getting me to where I am today. I won't be able to make our next meeting, or any after that, but that's okay, because I'm fine now. I'm going to be putting my education on hold and leaving town for a while so you won't be able to contact me anymore. Thanks again for all you've done. -Susan. P.S. here's a video of Hunter."

Fuck. I'll have to call campus police immediately; Lord knows where she'll be going.

I looked down at the attachments, and sure enough there was a video. Morbidly curious, I clicked the blue link, and Windows Media Player popped up with a three minute video. Curious, I clicked play.

Nothing happened.

No sound, no picture. The whole three minutes was blank.

"Good God..." I said to myself. I grabbed the phone and dialed 911. I could only hope I wasn't too late!

She's not mistaking another dog for Hunter. She's imagining him entirely!

* * * * *

Epilogue

We found no trace nor hide of Susan. Wherever she'd gone, she'd packed up all her things, gotten into her car, and disappeared. Her boyfriend knew nothing, her roommate knew nothing, her parents knew nothing. She was just gone.

I felt terrible. I could only imaging where someone with such advanced delusions would go, or what trouble she would get into. She truly believed that she had been reunited with her childhood dog. How far did the confusion go? Did she imagine more than seeing him? Petting him? Playing frisbee? I hoped beyond hope that someone had found her quickly and committed her to get the help she needed to get.

Sighing, I leaned back in my chair. One of my grad students had sent me an email with his thesis defense. I clicked the movie file, and it started downloading. "Twenty-three minutes left?" I groaned. I read his email.

"Here is my thesis. It's an mp4 file, so if you're not a Mac you'll need to go here [link provided] and download the appropriate codecs, or it'll just show up as a blank movie."

I blinked. "An mp4?" I clicked the search bar on my email and typed Susan's name. There it was, the fated email. Trembling, I clicked. Sure enough, the file she'd sent me was an mp4, too.

I'd like to say I downloaded the codec in a few minutes, but I needed to call in the secretary to figure it out for me. An hour had passed before we finally got the damned thing to work, and I was jittery despite having skipped my second cup of coffee. I could hardly wait for the secretary to leave the office.

Here goes...

I clicked the video.

Three minutes of Susan with a dog. Not just any dog; a coonhound. She laughed and petted him and he wagged his tail and barked.

Not just any coonhound; a Bluetick Coonhound. The dog had splotches just like Susan had described, and a scar on his shoulder and a cut in his left ear.

Not just any Bluetick Coonhound.

It was Hunter.