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What Warrants Service

by Mog Moogle

"One King Fifty-three," the moogle said into the dash microphone.

"King Fifty-three," the dispatcher acknowledged.

"I'm out at 327 LaFontaine, serving a warrant,"

"Clear, three-seven at 13:02."

Mog sighed as he hung the the microphone on the mount. He punched up some information on his MDC and looked it over. "Richard Williamson," he read aloud to himself. "6'2, 230lbs. Rottweiler. You're a big boy, ain't ya, Mr. Williamson?" Mog picked up the clipboard in the passenger seat, unfastened his restraint and got out of his cruiser.

He walked up to the stairs of the porch of the two-story duplex, his boots scuffing the chipped concrete as he walked. The front door had no screen and a big window. At a glance, he saw the flicker of a television on the inside. Everything looked pretty typical for the neighborhood, which was a little rough but by no means a slum.

Mog stood to the side between the window and the door and knocked on it. He heard the faint volume of the television mute and then the deadbolt on the door snap. The door creaked open a bit and the tan and black snout of a rottweiler peered through the opening. "Good afternoon," Mog greeted. "I'm Officer Moogle with the Canton Springs Police. Is Mr. Williamson home?"

"Uh," the rottweiler said and eased back from the door, "No, no. He doesn't live here anymore."

"I see," Mog said then smirked. "May I see your ID?"

"I, uh, I don't have one."

"You have no forms of identification? Drivers license, passport, library card?"

"No. No I don't have an ID."

"What's your name, sir?"

"Uh, Jim," he said after a moment.

"Last name and date of birth?"

"Why do you need that? What's this about?"

"I'm serving a bench warrant for failure to appear for a traffic offense," Mog explained. "Name and date of birth, please."

"Daniels," the rottweiler said. "February twenty- uh ... fifth."

"What year?"

"'Eighty-two."

"Interesting," Mog said and stepped over and peered in the crack in the door, but the rottweiler eased behind it. "Would you mind stepping where I can see your paws?"

"I ... uh, well. I was about to get in the shower and I'm not exactly dressed."

"I see. Well, I will have to check the residence for Mr. Williamson, so do you mind if I step inside while you get dressed?" Mog watched the rottweiler's expression shift uncomfortably. "I'm afraid I have to insist on stepping in."

"Yeah, uh ... sure. I just hope you don't mind. I'm sort of in my boxers."

"It's not an issue," Mog said and put his left paw on the door and pushed it open, causing the rottweiler to step back. He moved in the open door and glanced around the room while keeping the dog in his peripheral. The moogle's eyes stopped on the TV screen for a moment where the image of the movie playing had been paused. It was a big doberman on top of a little mouse in a sexually explicit act, and they were both very obviously male. Mog smirked and looked back up at the rottweiler. "Looks like I _did_interrupt something."

"Uh, yeah. I just was ..."

"Oh, that's obvious," Mog said and glanced at his white boxers with the red polka-dots and the small wet spot on the fly. "You know, if you're into that whole big dogs on smaller guys thing, I might be persuaded to hold off serving this warrant for a bit." Mog looked at him with a smile as he sat his clipboard on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"Wait, are you coming onto me?" the rottweiler said before backing up until he bumped against the couch.

"No, of course not. That'd be using a position of authority for personal gain. That's illegal." Mog smiled at him. "That being said, my job is to assist the citizens in any way I can. If one were to ask for it, I'd be obliged to help."

"You're not like any cop I've ever met," he said, then glanced at the frozen frame on the TV and then back down at the moogle. He bit his bottom lip nervously then sighed, "Fuck it."

Mog watched as he slid his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers and pushed them down to his thighs. The little moogle giggled at the swollen sheath. He stood there for a moment before the rottweiler huffed.

"Well?"

"Well what, sir?" Mog said coyly. "You haven't asked for my assistance in any way."

"Oh, so you're one of _those_types, huh?" he said then eased up toward the moogle. "I need to get off. On your knees."

"Mmm," Mog murmured and knelt down in front of the dog. "With pleasure, sir."

Mog eased his muzzle against the dog's sheath and inhaled his scent. His uniform pants tightened as the musk of the rottweiler flowed through him. The tip of the canine's member was already protruding from the opening, and the little moogle moved his mouth over it and let the tip bump against his tongue.

The rottweiler's opening oozed a drop of pre and Mog lapped it, causing the dog to groan as his tongue rubbed his small opening. He kept his lips around the member as it inflated in his mouth, lightly suckling the growing length and girth. The moogle felt the rottweiler's paws caress the back of his head and then hold him down against his sheath as he ground his hips forward.

Before long, the tapered end was brushing the back of the moogle's throat. Mog moaned as he felt the texture and definition of the veins. He was more than satisfied with the big dog's length. The underside of it brushed his tongue as the rottweiler eased back and then pushed back in. In just a few moments, the entire length from tip to base was fucking in and out of his lips while Mog sucked and slurped.

As the moogle sucked him, he moved his paws down to the keepers on his duty belt and snapped them open. After he was finished, he slid his paws back up the canine's toned thighs, rubbing the flexing and relaxing muscles as lewd slurps echoed in the dark living room.

Mog knew he'd struck gold when the base of the rottie's shaft started to swell. He could feel the his knot brushing his lips. The little moogle giggled and then eased his head back, but felt the rottweiler trying to hold it in place. Mog pulled his head back a little harder and the rottweiler relented.

He stood up and looked up at the dog, with his tongue lolling out of his muzzle at he panted. Mog giggled at the sight.

"Why'd you," the rottweiler began between pants, "why'd you stop?"

"Because you're far too enthusiastic to waste that cock on my muzzle," Mog said as he unfastened the garrison belt buckle under his duty belt.

"Wait, I didn't know you wanted me to fuck you."

"This isn't about what I want, stud," Mog said before he unzipped his fly and pushed his uniform pants down, leaving his duty belt slung around his hips. "You said you wanted to get off. Wouldn't you rather do that in my ass, like that little mouse boy is about to get on your TV?" The moogle eased around the rottweiler and then lifted himself up on the arm of the couch, resting his knees on it while he held onto the back with one paw and spread his cheeks with the other.

"Fuck," the rottweiler hissed and eased up behind him. "Little slut wants my cock?"

"Mm-hmm," Mog said as he felt the tip brush up between his cheeks. The spit soaked end pushed against the moogle's pucker and the tapered tip eased past his tailring. Mog moaned softly then looked up at the dog. "Be as rough as you need, stud," he said. "I can tell you're a little pent up. Fuck me as hard as that mouse boy was getting it."

The rottweiler didn't hesitate to take his suggestion. He grabbed the moogle's hips and rammed his length to the hilt inside the smaller male. Mog groaned as the rottie grunted, slapping his thighs against the sligtly chubby cheeks that his girth was spreading.

He pulled back half way and then slammed up inside Mog again. The moogle felt the girthy length and canine curves rubbing his insides. To his delight, the dog was as eager as he had hoped. Their bodies impacted over and over as the sounds and smells of the two males filled the room and the little moogle's senses.

The rottweiler drew his paw back and slapped the moogle's cheek hard, causing Mog to yip then moan. Mog rocked on his knees as he teetered on the arm of the couch back against the dog. He could hear the panting up over him, and we straightened his back and eased it against the muscular chest of his rough lover.

Mog looked up at the rottweiler's face, with his tongue tangling down. He put the back of his head against the dog's neck and opened his muzzle, letting the long tongue of the rottweiler slip into his mouth. Mog lapped at the flexible tongue as it bounced in the dog's panting, sharing a sloppy kiss while the more erect position allowed for the curved member to thrust deep up inside him.

The keys on Mog's belt jingled as the cheeks of his rear bounced against the rottweiler. The tails uniform shirt flapped from the motion of the dog's thrusts. The rottweiler panted and grunted as Mog sucked on his tongue.

It wasn't long before Mog felt the shaft swelling prohibit rapid entry into his backside. The bulb pressed up between his cheeks and Mog pushed down against it. The little moogle realized that the rottweiler might need some encouragement to actually push for the tie. He lowered his head and let the sloppy dog tongue slip from his mouth.

"Knot me, stud," the moogle said and panted. "I want to feel all you inside me."

The rottweiler pushed hard up against the moogle's tailring, pulled back and then thrust up again. Mog's tailring gave way and the bulb snapped past his tailring with a loud squelch. The little moogle yipped then let out a shaky moan at the fullness in his rear. The whole time, the rottie kept pumping his hips, letting the little bit of play at his base tug against the muscle ring inside the moogle.

"Pull it out," Mog said in the most sultry tone he could muster. "Pull it out then fuck it back in."

The dog pulled his hips back while Mog eased his rear up, and then the bulbous form slipped from his tailring as the both yipped. As soon as it was out, Mog ground down hard against the rottweiler until he pushed up and it slipped in again.

The new rhythm was sloppy, and the audible squelches would make a prudent fur blush, but for the moogle, it was something he relished in. The knot penetrated him over and over, and he could feel its owner start to tense all over. The dog leaned over him and Mog almost lost his balance but caught himself before he was pushed off the arm of the couch.

With a howl, the dog pushed back up inside him one final time. The swollen knot inflated even further and the moogle's insides flooded with the canine's spunk. Mog murmured and panted as the rottweiler rode out his orgasm in the officer's rear. When Mog felt the twitching and pulsing slow, with the heavier dog still draped over him, he pulled up until the knot slipped free again with a very wet slurp and a yip from its owner.

"Mr. Williamson?" Mog asked softly.

"Mmm?" the rottweiler replied.

Mog eased his legs down off the arm of the couch and wormed his way from under the dog. He pulled his underwear and uniform pants up and fastened them. The little moogle turned around to face the rottweiler then picked up a pair of jeans he'd seen on the couch while he was perched atop the arm. "Are these your pants?"

"Uh, yeah?" the rottweiler said, still panting to catch his breath.

Mog reached into the pocket and pulled out a wallet, flipped it open and looked at the drivers license. "Hmm ... Looks like you weren't being entirely honest with me, Mr. Williamson. I'm afraid you're under arrest for failure to appear."

"What?" he said weakly, but then felt his arms cinch up behind his back.

Mog clicked the metal bracelets closed around his wrists and giggled softly. "You're a great lay, stud. Give me a call after you see the judge tomorrow."

"What? What the fuck!? Fuck you."

"Ah, not 'til you go before the judge and pay that speeding ticket," Mog said and chuckled. "At least, not again until you do." The rottweiler growled and tried to pull away, but found that the moogle's grip on his arm just made that painful. "One King Fifty-three," Mog said into his shoulder microphone.

"King Fifty-three," the dispatcher acknowledged.

"One male, en route to the jail."

"One male, twenty-one at 13:28."

* * * * *

I do not condone inappropriate behavior of law enforcement officers, and would never engage in such behavior in that official capacity. This is a fantasy work of fiction, any similarity to real persons or events is entirely coincidental. This has nothing to do with that time I was serving a warrant and got a backside full of rottie cum. ^.^