God's Dog
By:Lostwolfe
[title:god's dog [vore version]]
hi, everyone...it's been quite some time since i've picked
this story, god's dog, was originally intended as a look
i like that sort of thing, the idea of mutual consent,
anyhow, i'm rambling now and i'll bet that you're more
lostwolfe.
the house, at twilight, is an eerie place to be...shafts of
where do you hide when you've done evil and you know that
i want to crawl into a hole, but, right now, probably the
minutes later i hear a car approaching and the clattering
i need not be told.
[16 september 1998]
i turn to face him and see the determination in his eyes,
the vice-like grip tightens as i thrash for freedom...ever
and i remember the wall...
i tried pleading...tried pointing out that i knew what
he opens his mouth and pulls back, his jaws resuming their
i try to slip out of his grasp, but he's too strong and
for a few seconds i'm caught in his throat...then that
the shock of what has happened hits me...rains down on
god has redeemed his dog.
this took so long to produce because of the job...and
regarding the titles of parts one, two and three...the
hope you enjoyed it...*hugs*
lostwolfe
[commentry and witticism [or commentry and criticism] can be
thankyou for reading this text file.
[version:1.00/unbastardized]]
[author:lostwolfe]
[date:15 september 1998]
[mailto:greywolf@serpentine.dynip.com]
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[about this version of the text]:
[15 september 1998]:
up my writers quill...well...you know, my keyboard. in
that time i've got a job, the edge, a life...etc.
basically my time hasn't been my own and thus, writing has
come in sporadic bursts. i'm still working on a few ideas,
but nothing is set in concrete.
inside an s/m relationship between two men where one was
the dog and the other was the owner. that particular
version of this story is still in draft. i don't know
when it'll be finished, if ever, but this is another
facet of that idea. up until now, in all of my vore
stories the principle characters have enacted a gentle
sort of swallowing.
etc, but i don't feel that one can adequately describe
the dominant/submissive roles in a swallowing scene
without at least touching on the s/m nature of the genre.
this is my stab at that element of vore...
curious about the story itself than my brooding, so i'll
quietly close the door on the house and let you find your
feet with sir matthew and his dog.
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[part one:violation]
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i hide in the shadows as night falls. when sir matthew
returns he will no longer want me. i have violated his
sacred trust, as his boy i have been disobedient, as his
dog i have...run the gamut, i think might be the right set
of words.
sunlight pour through the branches of the trees and are
turned to smoke plumes by the many dust particles...almost
making every room that faces the light of twilight like
part of a huge cathedral. i try not to think of stained
glass, sacrifices and altars as i walk further and further
into the house.
god will punish you?
right now he's in a taxi headed here, i know. i was
supposed to meet him at the airport and i never did...i'd
been up for the better part of last night working on my
university thesis. when morning broke, [i was up late
enough that i caught the first rays of sunlight] i
finally fell into bed...i slept through his plane landing
on the tarmac, i slept through his disembarking the
plane...in short, i wasn't there when he walked through
the glass doors that lead to home and now i will pay.
disobedience implies disrespect...and disrespect is not
tolerated.
best place for me to be is either my kennel, or waiting for
him at the door...
picking the one that might imply more servitude, i crawl
into my kennel and lie in wait, shivering at what might
come, trying to anticipate what kind of blows might rain
down on me.
of heavy feet on the front porch...the key turning in the
lock as he unlocks the door. the summons comes.
one whistle and two claps. the signal says i should go to
him, but i can smell the heat of his anger and the leather
belt that is strapped around his ample waist and i want to
face neither. i whine and crawl out from my kennel. if i
had a tail it'd be between my legs now...as it is, i stoop
to nealy crawling on my belly to face him...eyes wide open
and staring up past the vast gut to the stern eyes of my
owner. looking down at me he closes the door behind him
and puts all his suitcases on the floor.
slowly, he removes the belt from around his round middle
and lifs it high. obediently, knowing my crime, i turn my
behind o face him and wait.
the blow never comes. instead, his deep sonourous voice
travels down to me as i cower on the floor.
"i think...yes...i think that since you don't want to be
near me, i have another punishment in store for you...and
with this punishment you will *always* be near me, dog."
i cringe. he's never talked like this before.
fear washes over me and with the fear comes a desire to be
away.
he's dangerous like this and i want no part of it.
i scamper, knowing that it won't let me get away fast enough
and so i do something i've never done before. ignoring all
my training, all the canes that have been broken across my
back, all the leather belts that have been applied to my
rear...everything, i have the audacity to stop
kneeling...very slowly i raise myself to my legs and then,
in slow-motion i'm running, running for the back door.
heavy treads start to follow me and that deep voice is
yelling.
"no!" he yells, "you're not getting away from me..."
the back door, jesus, the back door is locked the back door
is locked and only he has the keys.
the steel-grey eyes that i've come to trust...now all i see
is something...an animal...a thing i've never seen before.
a transformation is taking place and i don't want to see
the end-result.
i know there's no way to shoulder past him, so i don't even
attempt that, instead i try to slip past him and head for
the front door. very slowly the door comes closer, ever
closer and yet it remains so far away...i can hear him
turning, i can hear him running.
in that instant that the door comes within reach i know
i'll never get there. he's bigger, stronger and far more
used to this happening. two huge bear-arms grip me and his
silver-bearded mouth is at my neck, nuzzling gently. at
first i don't realize what he's doing, until an
almost-growl of pleasure escapes him.
"mmmm...you smell sweet, boy...could that be your natural
odour, or your fear? i'm fairly sure it's your fear...and
i want to taste it..."
at first...at first his words don't sink in...i'm
struggling in his grip and he's stripping me, getting all of
my clothes to fall to the floor at his booted feet...all the
way through this process he's llciking at the back of my
neck making gentle, satisfied noises.
"good enough to eat...yes..." he says, nibbling at an ear.
since high-school i'd always been able to scream, but
now...that opportunity for help was fading fast...that and
i was pretty sure that it wasn't going to help any. i'd
long-since learnt that the house was sound-proofed. no
sense in practicing s/m and having the neighbours knowing
you're doing it, right?
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part two:validation
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[13 january 1999]
i can't see, so much as as feel as his mouth expands...
now he's not just cupping my ears in his mouth, he's got
the whole of the top of my head in it...sucking past the
hair on my head his wide mouth makes it's way down to my
forhead...as horrifying as it is, i realize that he *is*
carrying out his threat to eat me...only...it's not a
threat...it's a promise.
downstais, in the cellar. i remember being in there once
and seeing the pictures on the wall. not just one, or two,
but possibly a dozen. young men, all of them, with my
build and my looks. he'd called them past lovers. each
picture had a frame, each frame had a date, each date was
incomplete. there'd been diaries, each diary tracing the
entry of one of the young men into sir matthew's life.
they'd been training manuals of a sort...but each diary
had stopped with the date on the plaque. like a litany
the names danced before my eyes, stephen, alan, michael,
jeremy, ford...
all the diaries said one thing, that each 'boy' had
moved on, in time, but he hadn't said exactly what moving
on meant. now...for the first time, i realized that
moving on meant they'd died...or had been assimilated
into the gut of this large man. he'd swallowed ten or
more young men...
he'd done and that he couldn't get away with this...
but i knew that was fallacy the moment i uttered it, he
knew his business and knew it well. he'd simply claim to
the police that the young man had taken off and hadn't
told him where he was headed...i'd be impossible to mount
a search with as litle information as that.
normal shape and size.
"are you done fighting, boy?"
i thrash, uselessly in his arms.
i start crying and in an incredibly tender moment he wipes
the tears away from my eyes.
"listen to me, boy...i can't have you knowing what you do,
that and you disobeyed and i've layed down the law as far
as punishment goes...and this is my punishment...you will
be with me all the days of my life...i'll never forget you.
i've never forgotten jeremy...or michael...or ford, i just
incorporate them into everything i do...and they sustain
me...they make me stronger."
i sniffle..."i could...help you catch boys...if you want?
i cou-"
"no," he says, "you'll warn them and they'll leave before
i'm ready for them and then i'll just take it out on you.
and...besides, you may wind up in my gut then, rather
sooner than later, no. now don't fight. you're just
going to lose anyway."
before resuming his meal he hugs me tight and says, softly,
"i love you, boy...like i loved all the others...this is
just the ultimate expression of my love...to have you
within me."
too fast...instead, i get an admonishing glare.
"no, boy. no fighting."
i just sniffle.
i feel his great belly move beside me..."now i'm hungry...
and i'm going to eat you...it's been a good three or four
years."
his mouth opens wide and envelopes the crown of my head,
while his tongue slips and bathes my forhead warmly...
he makes satisfied noises around me, sucking me in, down
past my forhead. his mouth covers my eyes and i begin to
whimper and beat against his chest. he does nothing, just
takes it all as he sucks me in...his tongue descending into
my mouth when it gets there, forcing itself inside me. i
realize that his name isn't master for nothing. he knows
exactly what he's doing...has done it before so many times
that he ought to be an expert at this...devouring.
my bearded chin slips into his mouth and now his own mouth
is like a collar around my neck...i'm a dog again.
as a dog i'm meant to be obedient...why can't i be obedient
in this one last service? like he would when i was his
dog, he strokes my back, softly. good dog...good...god.
if i am his dog...then for a long time now he has been my
god. the one i'd obey beyond the call of duty.
as i'm thinking all of this he's made his way down to my
chest...down to my nipples. my arms are being pinned to
my sides as he sucks me deeper into himself. the odd
thing is that not once has he bitten down...he wants me
inside him whole...and that makes sense, because no
matter how much he'd beat me, he'd always bandage my
wounds afterwards...he'd always keep me whole no matter
what he did to me.
slowly he keeps swallowing me down into himself, tasting
me as i go down, his tonuge running up and down my body,
sometimes in my belly-button sometimes further up, now
the top-half of my arms can't move at all...he's slowly
covering me with himself...like he'd done when i was his
boy...when you're his boy he's your whole life, he's the
only thing you think about...he surrounds you, comforts
you, hurts you, takes you place you'd never think you'd
go, but he's always there.
down his mouth moves...down...until he cups my genitals.
his swallowing pauses as he starts to stimulate me,
drawing my penis up out of it's reverie...beneath me
he lets go of my back as a big hand moves down to his
own large member, i can't see what he's doing, but i
can feel a big paw undo his jeans...i don't hear them
slip to the floor, but i feel the first shudders as he
starts to pull at himself while his tongue darts around
my own penis...then he's pressing roughly against my
erection, forcing it down into the cushion of his tongue.
forgetting where i am i start to thrust against him,
warmth envelopes my penis as his tongue curls around it,
he's had practice at this and his mouth is like an
extension of his hands...wrapping...
that's always been his way...even when he's getting
pleasure he'll reciprocate and give pleasure back...in
his way he's not so much like a master as a father...
he doesn't fall as our rythms fall out of synch...then
in synch...inside his throat i close my eyes as i spurt
into his mouth...washing him in my semen. from here the
slide down his throat is easier...my hands are now inside
him...wrapped against my body, slowly he sucks me feet
inside him...toys with my toes one last time as he closes
his bearded mouth.
opens up and i empty out into his stomach...which has
expanded, but is still infinately too small...on the
outside i feel a massive paw stroke me. if he speaks
will i hear him? for a long while i don't find out,
instead i'm privy to his ministrations of his barrel-like
penis as he coaxes it into life...i feel him sit down,
heavily...feel his hand stroking his gut...feel the
rocking motions outside of his body...hear his heart
speed up...speed up...speed up...
i don't feel the semen shoot up onto his stomach, but i
know by the slowing down of his body that he's done.
it's dark here...dark and warm, but frightning...he
never said that servitude could be this frightening...
he never...
me as his fists might have done in other circumstances,
breathing heavily i realise that there's no getting out
of this situation, there's no road back, there's no
safeword that can save. i've performed the ultimate
act of service, i've given my life for my master.
the shock finally saves me. giving up on my futile
struggles, i pass out and never wake up again...
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part three:desecration
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the thirteenth plaque has no dates and no picture, the
diary that accompanies it has a section torn out of it.
a large man dressed in a business suit is standing over
a fireplace, stacking pages on the ready pile of logs.
removing his cigar from his mouth he tosses it down onto
the unlit pyre and walks away.
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[authors note:]
[14 january 1999]
because from 'validation' onwards i wasn't sure of where
to go. i knew what i wanted to achieve, to contrast the
servitude with the swallowing, i just wasn't quite sure
of how to do it...the answer seemed to come as i was
writing the last part of the story...if i could point to
actions that sir matthew was performing [while swallowing
his boy] and then contrast those with actions he'd
performed in the past [in the standard s/m vein] i'd have
what i was after...
first two should be fairly self-explanatory. [violation
being not obeying orders, validation being the following
of orders [even after a struggle]]
it's the third one that might not make sense entirely...
to my liking sir matthew is a man of routine, there's
very few grey areas in his life, but this last boy is
potentially one big, grey area for him...it probably
isn't made clear in the story, but one reason for this
is that he possibly had to deal with this particular
boy for longer than he's had to deal with some of the
others...what he had in this case was an incredibly
obedient young man...it took three or four years for
the actual slip-up to occur.
the desecration in this sense is not doing what he'd
usually do once he'd finished with a young man. [that
being having a picture mounted in a frame with his
date of eating and finishing the final diary entry for
that particular boy.]
possibly in this sense, because of the large grey area
that this has left with him, the dog's god is changing
his outlook...is redeeming himself.
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this text copyright (c) 1998, 2000nicodemus caine,
greywolfe and lostwolfe]
left at:greywolfe@new.co.za personal attacks to the author
can be sent there too. be warned that most of those wind
up either in dev/null/ [yes, i really *am* a unix freak ;)]
or...on a bad day i'll just mail your root back with copies
of your witty dialogue.]
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