by JD Chambers
I thoughtfully chew on a spear of asparagus, as if I have to think over any of this.
“I’m happy here. I have no desire to go back to Longmont, and no desire to follow in my father’s footsteps.”
“But look at you,” Sawyer says, and I bite my tongue to keep from calling him out on his rudeness. “Don’t you want more?”
“I want to be happy. It’s all I want for anyone, really.” I don’t tell him that I’m finally in a place, both mentally and physically, where I don’t have to be wasted to make it through a day. I finally found my happy, and it’s worth more than all the fancy cars and stupid suits in the world. I want to point that out to him, and maybe five years ago, the kid who procured the beer to get me wasted, who came up with the tricks and pranks just to get his parents’ attention, that kid would have understood where I was coming from. But this guy obviously drank the Kool-Aid somewhere down the line, and he’s never going to understand me. “Don’t you want to be happy?” I turn to Emily, who has a deer-in-headlights look.
“I-I am happy,” she says, sipping on iced tea and dabbing at the corners of her mouth to hide her discomfort.
“What do you do for fun? What are your hobbies?” I try to change my tone so that it doesn’t sound like I’m grilling her for an answer, even though I kind of am.
“I don’t really have time,” she says, nervously flitting a glance at Sawyer. “But your dad has taught me how to play golf. He says some of the most important decisions happen on the course.” She recovers with a blinding Colgate smile.
“But that’s still work. Not time when you can relax and enjoy life.”
She bites at her lip, and I feel guilty for putting her on the spot.
“Look, I’m not trying to make you feel bad about how you live your life. But when my mom mentioned that you two were coming, she talked about how she had to force my dad to shift his schedule so that you actually had some time off for once. To make an hour-long trip that, in my opinion, could actually still be considered work.” I turn to Sawyer. “And I know your schedule isn’t any better. If that’s what makes you happy, then wonderful. I’m glad you’re living your life the way you want. But it would make me miserable, and I’m not going to do it. I’m happy. And I’m staying here.”
Sawyer puts his hands in front of him in a defensive position, and I realize that maybe I got a little too passionate in my speech there at the end. But I don’t regret it.
“Dude. Whatever. I’m just here to hang out with an old friend.”
“Cool,” I say, as if that were really the case. “Then where do you want to go next? There’s always live music somewhere in Old Town on a Friday night.”
Sawyer drops the subject, but the rest of the weekend is tense, and a testament to how different my current Fort Collins life is from my old Longmont one. When Emily suddenly has a work commitment and needs to leave on Saturday instead of staying the whole weekend, I pretend to believe it.
I’m aware that I’m stalling. The first weekend after talking to Arthur about a maybe date was the weekend that Sawyer and Emily came to town. The next weekend, I already promised to both Craig and friends, and Elijah and friends, that I’d go see Avengers on opening weekend. There’s nothing wrong with seeing a good movie more than once.
But by the third weekend, I have to admit, not only to myself but also to Arthur, that our impending date isn’t happening. I feel bad that I haven’t been able to combat my nerves. After all, I’m the one who reached out to him this time. But every time I think about that massive man and firm hands, I pop a boner and break out into a cold sweat.
Dave: I’m just not sure if I’m ready yet.
Hulk: That’s okay. I’ll be here when you are.
Arthur made it clear we didn’t have go there, to the mental space where he calls me puppy and suggests I need a guiding hand, but there’s no way my mind won’t immediately go there when, or if, we ever meet again. We’ve continued texting, and Arthur keeps it light and fun, everyday conversations that I know are thoughtfully constructed to make me feel safe and comfortable.
Conversations that reiterate, whether we do anything kinky or not, I genuinely like Arthur. I want to spend time with him, as a new friend, maybe even as a potential boyfriend.
If only I could stop dreaming of Arthur’s body straining his button-down shirt or imagining Arthur’s deep voice giving me commands. Even something as simple as hearing the word “sit” makes me instantly hard these days. No, when I finally meet Arthur again face-to-face, we will go there. I’m going to insist on it.
Of course, I’ve continued looking into puppy play online. But I have to figure out if this is something I truly want, no need, and not just because some bank teller guy gets me all wrapped up like a horny burrito over it. It’s beginning to be a hollow argument, a scapegoat because taking that final step is so scary. Because with all my research, and now with my purchases that should be arriving any day, I can no longer deny that puppy play is totally my thing.
The idea of responding to commands attracts me because it seems so freeing. Half my life is spent fretting over whether I’m doing the right thing. Making the right decision. How fucking incredible would it feel to have that weight lifted from my shoulders?
And then there’s the fact that, in their gear, the pups look so good. Playful, relaxed, needy, and really fucking hot.
The unmarked box of items comes later that week. I’m not the type to do things by halves, and I have the money to try it out. I conserve in other areas of my life: a small efficiency apartment, my old beater car that still runs just fine. I’m not one to spend money just for show, so I feel perfectly justified in this little splurge.
The neoprene hood sits on top, sealed in a plastic bag. The bag easily opens at the seal, and I pull out the slick aqua blue and black material and unfold it. My cock stirs at the sight, but I set it aside and reach inside for the next item. Soon, a bright blue collar, a dark blue tail, and an aqua and black jockstrap – because if I’m going all out anyway, why not? – lay strewn about.
I kick off my clothes and turn on some music. A good song is always the fastest and easiest way to take my mind off of whatever it is I’m overthinking, and right now I’m trying not to think about the fact that I’m about to dress up like a human puppy, all by myself in my apartment for my own sexual and mental pleasure. Nope, not going there. So, I put on some dance music and wiggle my ass as I pull up the jock. It’s good quality and really comfortable. Much nicer than my Sam’s Club twenty-for-eight-dollar boxer briefs.
Next is the tail, and although it’s a little intimidating, I’ve experimented with other toys enough not to worry. As long as I don’t stop to think about the fact that there’s a tail at the end, I could be playing with a regular old dildo or butt plug. I just have to focus on that fact, and not the fact that once I get it lubed up and fully seated, I can feel the weight of it wagging behind me as I move around.
Fuck, I can’t help myself. I try to look, but I can only see the tip as it wags into view. Even with that, though, my cock enjoys the sensations and the knowledge of what is sticking out of my ass.
I set the collar aside, though I can’t say exactly why. It just doesn’t feel right to put the collar on myself, so I skip it and go straight for the hood. I’ve read varying opinions on hoods, but to me it feels like it might be the make-or-break item to determine if puppy play is for me. Sure, Arthur said I didn’t have to gear up to still be a pup, but for me, it feels … important.
The neoprene isn’t as soft as I’d imagined, but the leather one was way out of my budget, so it will have to do. It’s still comfortable, and as I fit it around my head and snap the muzzle into place, it doesn’t hinder my breathing or smell rubbery and weird like a Halloween mask would. Of course, Halloween masks are rarely this crafted and detailed. Obviously, whoever makes these knows what is needed for long-term comfortable wear. And as a bonus, I still have access to my mouth. Just in case.
My shoulders rel
ax and my hands stop shaking once the hood slips into place. It not only muffles noise on the outside but has the seemingly magical quality of muffling the noise inside my head too. It’s exactly what I had hoped for. When the noises in my head get to be too much, I go into overload. In some situations, like with my family, I can combat it with snark and a healthy dose of disdain. With people I actually like, though, I can turn into a total spaz. When Arthur first used the word puppy, I think that’s what attracted me to it. I’m like that dog, constantly distracted from one thing to the next. The puppy hood makes all those distractions go away. Although I still wouldn’t mind having Arthur’s strong, commanding voice help calm me down.
I relax back onto my heels, until my tail drags on the floor and nudges my prostate, and I jolt back up with a “Yip!”
I start to crawl, stopping with a moan when the plug shifts and rubs in new and wonderful ways, then start again, this time more carefully. There’s a full-length mirror in my bathroom, and when I’m finally in front of it, I freeze.
In the mirror is a sexy, happy puppy. My hands feel at the hood, the eyes behind it bright and shining. It really is me. God, I look good. I look happy, despite the perma-grin on the hood demanding it. It’s not just the sewn-in expression. It’s the way the puppy carries himself, like it radiates out of him. Out of me.
I shake my head and the ears flop back and forth, and a giggle slips from between my lips. I turn until my ass faces the mirror and watch as I wag my tail back and forth. Fuck, that does something deep inside me and not just deep inside my hole. My cock was already hard, but now it’s dripping, and I adjust myself so that the tip peeks out from the underwear. It shines, glossy with precum, and although I’ve never had the desire to take nude selfies before, I suddenly have the urge to capture the moment.
My thumb slips across the slick head, eliciting a groan. I reach down and cup my balls with one hand, rolling them gently, then start to stroke myself with the other. I keep my shaft covered, except for the tip, which receives a swipe of thumb with every upstroke. I can’t look away; my eyes are glued to the puppy in the mirror. Fuck, I’ve never seen anything so erotic, and knowing it’s me? Well, that’s enough to make me blow my load all across my chest.
As I come down from the high, I whimper and tentatively turn it into a bark.
Yes. The cum-covered puppy in the mirror has definitely earned that bark, so I test the waters with another happier, more confident bark before bursting into giggles again. True, giggles aren’t very puppy-like, but I can’t contain my joy.
Fuck yes, I’m a puppy.
From my spot in the bathroom, I can see the collar on the floor where I left it. As happy as I am with this new discovery and exploring puppy play on my own, I’d rather be told what to do. That’s still a large missing piece. And I have a feeling that piece looks a lot like Arthur.
6
Arthur
I’ll be here when you are.
Fucking famous last words. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen Dave, and although we texted quite often at first, it has tapered off. I keep imagining him as a turtle, retreating further and further into his own shell.
But I’m not one to give up without a fight. I just need to let him know that I’ll take anything he can give me. Even if that’s just friendship. The days of my mind conjuring images of coming home to a puppy or spending all weekend playing together are gone, replaced with the need to spend time with Dave in any capacity.
My little brother, Westley, also broke out of the Yuen family mold to travel across the country and go to school in Colorado. He had to be a little different, though, so he picked CU, not CSU. His birthday party is this weekend, so I legitimately have an excuse to go to Game Over.
I try my best to keep in touch with Westley. We’re the two black sheep of the family, so we only have each other to lean on. I visit him whenever I can. We both stayed in Colorado for the holidays this year, and I tried to make a tiny turkey breast for two as festive as possible. He’s into computers and video games, neither of which my parents feel is “professional” enough for accolades, but I think Westley is a genius. When the future catches up with them, they’re going to be flailing while Westley will be running the place. So, I guess it’s kind of in my own best interest to stay on his good side, but really, I actually like the kid.
When I see the flash of panic cross Ted’s face at the sight of me, my stomach knots. Fuck, I really overdid it with him, didn’t I? Maybe after I see Dave, if I see Dave, I’ll be able to apologize. My eyes scan up and down the rows as I make my way back to the counter, but the store is empty except for Ted.
“Hi, Ted. Is it just you today?”
I purposely keep subdued. It’s one thing, obviously a bad thing but still, to tease him when he comes into the bank. It’s another to invade his store and act inappropriately. He’s already uncomfortable, even without my flirting, as evidenced by the fact that he keeps fidgeting with stacks of videos like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Maybe he plans on throwing them at me if I come any closer.
“Yeah,” he says. “It’s a slow day. What can I help you with?”
Damn it, no Dave then. Well, I really do need a present for my brother. “My brother’s birthday. I think I mentioned it to you before. But the party’s this weekend, and I haven’t gotten him anything yet.”
“Sure thing.” Ted comes around the corner of the counter and starts to wander the floor. “What’s he into?”
“He’s always playing those games that look like a cross between a fantasy movie and a shooting game.”
“I know just the thing. What kind of a system does he have?”
Uh. I have no freaking clue. Games are so not my thing. Unless they have a shot of tequila and a boy in tight shorts shaking his junk at me, I wouldn’t give them a second glance. I look around the store as if somehow that will tell me.
“PS4? Xbox?”
“Can I look at them? I might recognize it by sight.”
Ted laughs and takes me over to a locked cabinet with the consoles. I point to the one that looks the most familiar.
“PS4,” he says, and takes me in a different direction in the store, underneath a sign that says “PS4 New Releases.”
When we’re finished, I have picked out an Arabian nights-looking game that just came out a few days ago, so we can be relatively certain Westley doesn’t have it yet, and a new Adventure Time game that he might already have, because it’s not quite as new. But I know for a fact that he loves the show, so I’m willing to take a risk.
When I mention that Westley loves Adventure Time, Ted takes me to a different section of the store, with t-shirts and toys and these weird bobblehead things. I have no idea what Westley would like, if any of it, so I stick with the two games we’ve already selected.
“I wanted to apologize,” I say, after Ted has rung up the games and handed them over to me in a plastic bag. “I shouldn’t have flirted with you when you came in to the bank. I did it at first because I found you attractive, but once I noticed that it made you uncomfortable, I should have stopped.”
Ted’s eyes bulge in surprise. “You knew it freaked me out?”
Fuck. Apologizing is hard, but I really need to do it. Especially if I want to have any kind of future with Dave.
“It was written all over your face. At first, I thought maybe you were shy and didn’t know how to react, but when it became obvious that it was because you weren’t interested, I thought you were just being homophobic, and so I tried to make you uncomfortable on purpose.”
Ted almost cracks a smile at that, his face contorting between amused and still shocked. It’s a good thing I feel so guilty or I might be tempted to laugh. “Uh, no. Definitely not homophobic.”
“After meeting Dave, I figured.”
During some of our texts back and forth, Dave had let some gossip about Ted and his boyfriend slip. Even if he hadn’t, after getting to know Dave a little better, it’s obvious that he adores his boss.
At my mention of Dave, however, Ted’s brows pull together and his nose wrinkles in confusion. Oh, so maybe Ted doesn’t know that I’ve become friends with Dave? That’s … disappointing.
“He didn’t tell you?”
“About what?”
Right. I have nothing left to lose. And I’ve already flayed myself open for Ted with the apology. Might as well finish the job off.
“Me. Never mind. Do you know when he works? I was hoping to talk to him. I thought … I thought we were friends. But I haven’t heard from him lately.”
“He works tomorrow,” Ted says.
I thank Ted for the help and leave. I could go back to the store tomorrow, but fuck, that was like receiving a thousand tiny papercuts to my heart. Each intimation that I wasn’t important enough to Dave to mention to his friends and co-workers, a brand-new slice. I don’t know that I can go through that again.
Of course, I’m going to fucking go through it again.
One trip to the club to see if I could take my mind off Puppy later, and I know that I’ll do just about anything to get him in my life. Not that the other guys are bad, necessarily, but they’re not Dave. Jesus, how did I go from Mr. Flirt to Mr. Angsty-pining-for-the-one-I-can’t-have? Let’s hope that’s not a nickname that sticks.
I met Terry and Rohit out, but went home alone. They, of course, get to go home together, but I had to fend off Terry’s attempts at sending boys my way all night. It really was a terrible mistake. I should have gone straight home from Game Over and sulked instead.
Uncertainty is not an emotion that I’m familiar with. As Britney said, “Confidence is a must. Cockiness is a plus.” And I always try to live my life by Queen B. I don’t need a filter for my mouth, but sometimes I wonder if I might need one for my actions. I don’t hold back, especially in my flirting, but maybe I came on a little too strong and scared Dave off.
Of course, the logic center of my brain tells me that chasing him at Game Over again today is kind of the opposite of backing off. But the animal center of my brain says he’ll see me – big, strong man – and won’t be able to resist. I’ll provide for him and give him babies. The animal center of my brain watches too much Animal Planet.