Chapter 7
All day she had worried about what she would do if by chance the little touch of ginger became instantly burning. Launched on an expedition of cleverness, she deliberately did not buy Johnny's vodka.
"Damn it, woman," he muttered. "There's hardly a sniff left!"
"Vodka doesn't smell. Drink beer."
"Fuck beer! I've been drinking it all day."
"Well, it will be at least an hour till dinner. Why don't you go down to the corner and hop the bus? You'd be back within forty-five or fifty minutes. Johnny."
"Shit. Well, all right. C'mon, Freddy. Let's go get us a booze, huh?"
"You can't take him on the bus, Johnny. Leave him. I'll feed him and keep him quiet until his lord and master returns."
"Okay. And don't let him chew the goddamned paper. He's got hot nuts for the sports section, the big fink."
Freddy sniffed and whined at the door after Johnny left, then he came into the kitchen. Nola was ready. Steeling herself, she dipped two nervous fingers into the solution she had made that morning and then she stared at the big dog looking back at her hungrily. She patted his head with her dry hand. Then she leaned down over his back and her stiffly held fingers went under his belly. The shock of his furry body under her arm was oddly disturbing. She felt, and when she missed because she could not see, his huge cock in the palm of her hand was terrifying. It was almost as large around as Johnny's and the firmness was surprising. Gripped with some alien emotion, Nola tapped the ginger solution to the nearly closed end of the soft foreskin. Then she straightened up, unreasonably frightened by what she had done.
Then, to her horror, Freddy reared up, something he seldom did. And his paws came forward to press on her chest. Had it not been that her ass was against the sink counter, he would have knocked her down. His mouth, always open, opened wider and his tongue snaked out and licked her face. She turned and tried to push him away. Then she saw his cock. It was jerking and shaking, and a full inch and a half of thumb-thick red tip, pointed and sleek and gleaming, was pushed out of the hairy foreskin. She stared, as much surprised by the erotic thrusting as she was by the fact that he seemed not at all aware of the ginger. His hind legs shifted and his back assumed a peculiar curve, and she almost screamed as his hips moved in definite hunching.
"My God!" she husked. "Down, Freddy, down, down, down!"
He hunched another time or two, and in panic Nola groped for the dish and thrust all four fingers into the oil and ginger. Her fingers snapped to her palm as she reached, and she almost screamed as she wrapped his darting prick in her hand. Freddy's tongue snapped into his mouth and his jaws closed for a moment before the tongue whipped out at her face again. She stood, stunned and frightened, her hand feeling the hot thrust of his prick as he hunched into it. A coil in her belly sprang loose. Her senses reeled with a headiness she could not stop. The spearing prick slipped in and out of her grip, the oil only increasing the lewd feel of the distending organ. Nola jerked in spastic shock, and this pushed the stretching foreskin back so that she held a full four inches of Freddy's cock in her hand. He was hunching faster now, his head lowering as some sensation tensed his back. Again Nola tried to twist away but she could not make her hand release the monstrous organ. She started to sob, and as she looked, she saw the small eye at the tip of Freddy's prick ooze a yellow-white drop.
Her other arm came up, hand pushing at Freddy's heavy chest, then with no volition, it slipped around his neck and curled over the taut spine. Crying, fighting for her wits, Nola held him and speeded her masturbating hand. The feel of the thickening flesh was like a strong drink, and as her own cunt began to twitch and writhe, she wailed against Freddy's neck and firmed her grip as she intensified the caress. He was whining and snuffling now and his saliva dripped to her shoulder, making a wet spot on her blouse. He kept shuffling his feet, trying to dig his rear paws into the linoleum so his hunching could become a more violent rooting. She felt his cock begin to swell as she knew dogs' cocks always did. Nola closed her eyes and for a moment, seemed to feel the expanding shaft in her cunt. It was a devastating image, and she wanted to scream at her own bestiality. Then Freddy was pushing harder and his foreoaws curled over her shoulders.
She heard her blouse tear. She gasped and strained at his pressure against her, and his cock pistoned in her grip almost in rhythm to the thud of her heart. Then he began jerking, and the needle sharp spurts of jism shot up and struck her blouse, one, two, three short spews.
Petrified, Nola screamed. His cock dropped out of her nerveless hand, and Freddy's tongue slapped his jaws in satisfaction. He dropped to all fours, his bloated prick hanging nearly to the floor, like a tired sausage, only thicker. Nola crouched, her hands raised as if they were contaminated with indescribable filth. She turned away and dashed them into hot water, wringing them with hysterical force, weeping furiously as she recognized the degrading thing she had done. Without drying her hands, she dashed for her bedroom, ripping off her soiled blouse on the way. Shaking so badly she could hardly manage the snaps, she put on a clean blouse. When she went back, peeking around a casing first, Freddy was still a menace. He lay on one side, licking his cock, and it was still a hundred times too big to crawl back into his belly, she thought.
Wailing over the trap she had created then fallen into, she tasted the ginger and oil. No ginger flavor rewarded her experiment. It was obvious that the oil had, since morning, completely degenerated the ginger's bite. Hypnotized by impending doom, Nola watched Freddy wash and soothe his cock, now a bit smaller but still out at least three inches. She prayed. She thought perhaps his prick would shrink faster without the tender applications of his tongue so she hurriedly poured his dish full of the dry dog food he seemed to like. He heard the rattle and got up, looked at his benefactress and began to eat.
When the thump of Johnny's feet sounded on the front porch, only a slim, pointed tip thrust from Freddy's enveloping foreskin. He went to greet his master and Nola leaned against the sink counter, a half breath from collapsing in a faint.
Now the sniff and scratch meant something else. Nola sat up in bed, strangely cold, then amazingly flushed. Her distress was a deep ache in her belly. He had reared up and tried to hump her twice while she washed dishes, and only a wet dishrag to his jowls had gotten him off of her back. There had been another time in the front room when he had locked his strong forelegs around her knee and coiled his back in two or three short hunches against her foot before she could dislodge him. Johnny she was sure, had not seen the brief performance. But it was evident to Nola that she had definitely taught an old dog a new trick. It hardly seemed reasonable that her one mistake had created a habit with Freddy, but it seemed that way. She was not only the chief cook and bottle washer, she worried, but also chief masturbatress.
Then she had a swift flash of the big darting prick moving in her palm. She could hear the pant and slosh of his breath and tongue on her shoulder and feel the way his paws tried to pull her to his jerking body. Hating the memory, she could not help following it through to the point where the distended scarlet prick spit its musky jism to her blouse. Thinking about it made her twitch in belated evasion.
Then she sat on the bed, head down, trembling with the peculiar excitement that seemed centered in her belly. She felt the tips of her tits tingle and she was suddenly moist between the legs. It wasn't, she told herself, that she needed a fuck, or that Freddy represented any erotic dream. It was just that Freddy was very male and very huge, and his animal need had been very poignant. She unconsciously flexed the fingers of her right hand, remembering exactly how those fingers had explored and caressed Freddy's curiously inhuman prick. Moaning in the grip of some irresistible desire, Nola got up and moved to the door. Then she slowly opened it, and Freddy wedged his nose in the proffered space and levered his way in. She patted his head, the doggy smell of him was fuel to the slow fire of excitement building in her chest. He stood, licking her hand.
What she had expected him to do she could not name. She was clad only in one of her regular shortie nightgowns. She moved. Freddy sniffed, then pushed his nose into the soft hair of her crotch, and his tongue whipped out and to the upper rounds of her moist cunt-lips. Nola gasped and pushed her hips forward, moving her feet to open a space for Freddy. She put both hands down to his head, and he licked at her cunt with steady interest, not as if he were sexually inspired but as if her pussy were made of sugar candy.
"Oh, dear God!" she panted, writhing down to her knees. His head followed, his tongue now finding its way to the opening of her quaking vagina. Slowly, as if her muscles had turned to jelly, she leaned over him and her hands went down and under his belly to find his prick. She was shocked and confused; his prick showed no growing firmness, and the little red tip was not in evidence. With thumb and fingers, she followed the thick cigar shape back until it became a half buried tube of muscle in his underbody. Then her fingers found his balls and because balls had been nearly a constant topic of conversation between herself and Johnny, she felt them with some awe. Freddy did not seem to care for that and shifted his hips. His tongue abandoned its lick at her cunt and slapped her belly as his head came up to nestle almost under her left arm, his fur a soft titillating warmth through the filmy material covering her pulsing breast.
She sat back, piqued by his seeming indifference. He kissed her neck and face with his drooling tongue and she felt terribly ashamed of herself. Then the curious excitement returned and she sat up on the bed, pulling his head into the hot V of her spread thighs. When his tongue again sought her cunt, she leaned back, raising it and opening it with her own trembling fingers. "Come on, Freddy!" she panted. After a moment of attention, she again leaned forward and felt for his prick. It had neither changed nor come to life. She squeezed it and tried to roll the foreskin back but this only made Freddy shift and silently protest. Near to tears at the failure of her obscene handling, Nola stared down at the huge black shadow in the nearly dark room. It was a matter of smell and taste, she was sure, but maybe he needed to see too. She rolled back and snapped on her bed lamp, blinking as did Freddy at the brightness. Nothing seemed to change for Freddy, but as Nola saw herself, crotch spread, cunt hair gleaming with his saliva, she quivered in need. "Oh, damn you, dog!" she whispered, then another idea came.
She scrambled off the bed and went to her hands and knees on the rug, moving so her broad, high ass was barely under Freddy's nose. He sent his tongue to her crotch, and she shivered with delight as he licked her cunt and asshole with some vigor. She waved her ass and levered it up, pushing back. The tongue was wonderful and it thrilled her but it wasn't really what she wanted. Turning, she again felt of his prick and a fresh fever came over her as she discovered the red tip, now peeking from the short-haired sleeve. She tickled it. And suddenly, Freddy reared up and clamped his forelegs around her rib cage, just behind her arms. He humped and shifted and the hunching began. The huge cock was to her face in an instant and the red tip had become a darting, ominous point and with a cry of fright, Nola opened her mouth, and the cock went in almost far enough to choke her.
The taste was strong, animal, and the feel of her lips around the hairy, straining organ was terrifying. She could feel the sleek cock moving back in her mouth in growth. Freddy was gripping her hard, his paws snagging in her nightie, his body shaking hers with humping. Using one hand, she pushed his hips so the cock slipped from her mouth. With dog blindness, he sought to find the hot wetness of her mouth again. In fright, Nola awkwardly bent her wrist and made a sleeve of her hand. Apparently, it satisfied Freddy but only increased his hunching. Nola wailed, fear once again clouding her mind. She felt trapped, bowed down, her body gripped by Freddy's huge forelegs, his hindquarters surging and pushing. His cock was now out its full length, she thought, a thickening six inch rod of tempered steel, jutting from the expanded sleeve of his dog prepuce. And suddenly. she could stand no more of her own lewdness. With a furious jerk and twist she managed to slide from under Freddy. Spinning, she leaped for the bed, thinking to cover herself. Freddy thought otherwise and his huge bulk reared and closed over her back, his forepaws like angular pincers around her waist. She could not move except to twist, and then his cock jabbed and jabbed into her crotch, and she let out a tiny shriek as the pointed prick speared her asshole and slipped down to ram into her cunt like a bolt from a crossbow. There was no evading the rigid rod, and she could only twist to spare the ripping of her vagina. Then he was completely in her and his haunches began the furious, fluttering moving, his prick only an inch or two in her lightning-shattered quim. The pain was unbearable. Nola thrashed and wailed and tried to tear his paws from around her waist. Freddy growled through his rapid panting, frightening her even more. She slowly let her weight sag, her tits rolling apart on the bed as Freddy hauled her harder to his under belly. It was not like she had guessed because his surging prick did not touch her clitoris nor could it feel her need. She felt it begin its dog-swelling and she tried to find some delightful, easing sensation to offset the high pain. There was none, only fear and disgust and the certainty that if she tried to fight him away he'd crush her neck with his slavering jaws. She sobbed softly, waiting for the end, and when it came, she shuddered, feeling the sharp spurt of his jism in her numbed cunt. She lay very still, listening to Freddy break his panting to slap his jaws and clean up his drool. Then, as if he had a date in another city, he reared away from her. She had one brief twinge of sharp sensation when his swollen prick popped from her cunt, leaving her with a grotesquely empty feeling.
For a minute or two Nola lay face down, half off the bed, stunned by her own return to reality. Her body and mind seemed to join into one overwhelming misery, and when she finally rolled over and looked at Freddy, now lying on the floor licking his receding cock, she nearly vomited in self-revulsion.
And she had done it all, she told herself, from the first stupid anointment of his cock with her ineffectual solution of oil and ginger, to this final idiocy of going to her hands and knees. But despite this self-analysis, she could not escape the inhumanly powerful excitement Freddy created in her flesh. She rose from the bed and opened her door. Freddy seemed to understand that the game was over, and he lumbered out with his head swinging weightily.
Nola went to the bathroom and washed his smell away. Then she filled her seldom-used douche bag and flushed his semen into the toilet. After that, gripped by some rebellious feeling she did not understand, she finger-fucked herself into sharp, exquisite orgasm and went to bed.
Johnny moved to the wall switch and turned on the light. Freddy lay on the fuzzy rug, his hind leg raised so he could lick his cock. It had not quite relaxed. It was obviously very tender from the way Freddy soothed it, and there was no doubt in Johnny's mind as to what had caused the noises in Nola's room that had awakened him. Anger tightened Johnny, from his bare feet to the top of his tousled head.
Only one thought seared his mind; Nola had let Freddy fuck her because he had balls. They gleamed in the light, sleek, boldly black and a badge of total maleness. Johnny sat down, draping his cock over the edge of the chair. It didn't matter that he was hung heavy and had a nearly untiring backbone. He had taken his sister over every hump he could imagine, from straight forward fucking to sodomy while he beat her bowed back with his belt. He had given her every thrill a man could give a passionate woman-except one. For that thrill, the hard spurting sensation of male jism in her hungry cunt, she had turned to a dog.
Or had she sucked Freddy off. He had long ago discovered how Nola delighted in mouthing and licking his prick. He had also noticed, with some private agony, how she swallowed and worked her throat after he had cum, as if the dryness of his orgasm was a monstrous disappointment to her. It didn't really matter what she had done with Freddy, he decided. His anger grew and the horrible, twisting frustration was back again.
Then Freddy got up and went to the front door, looking around at Johnny expectantly.
"Wait, boy," Johnny said in a low, tense voice. He got up and went to his bedroom, donned his clothes, then tip-toed to the kitchen for Freddy's leash. On the way back to the living room he stopped at a kitchen drawer and took out a saw-edged paring knife which he thrust into his belt.
Freddy whined in animal gratitude as Johnny snapped on the leash and let them both out the front door. Out through the gate Freddy raised his hind leg at the first bush and urinated, his tongue lolling out in the pleasure of relief. But Johnny did not take him back to the house. He led him down Aden Lane, across the main avenue that led to town, then along the other end of the poorly-defined street. When they came to the stone wall that surrounded a nearly abandoned estate, Johnny stopped. Slowly he wound the leash around his right hand until there was barely a foot of it left to Freddy's collar. Then with a great grunt, Johnny heaved and began to twist. Freddy yelped as his neck was lifted, then as Johnny swung like an Olympic hammer-thrower, Freddy's yelps turned to strangled gasps.
As he pivoted, his huge shoulders straining to get the ninety pound of kicking dog airborne, the fury mounted in Johnny's brain. With fury came overpowering sadness at what he was doing. Freddy was kicking, trying to jack-knife himself free of the strangling collar. Then, with a cry of anguish, Johnny took a step and slammed Freddy to the stone wall with all of his strength. The thud was ominous. Freddy fell to the ground, not even kicking.
Before he could lose his fury, Johnny knelt and cut Freddy's balls from his body with one vicious stroke of the paring knife. Holding them in his bloody hand, Johnny ground them to a squishy pulp and hurled them over the wall. Still blind with hate and fury, Johnny seized Freddy by the feet and pitched the body over the wall with a final grunt.
He walked back to the house, his bloody hand swinging stiffly at his side. He wished he'd saved Freddy's balls. He had a new flush of anger as he thought about stuffing them in Nola's cunt. Then he knew that this idea was purely childish. No anger, no ruthless vengeance would change the brutal fact that he had no balls, and though he was unable to identify with Nola's seeming need for them, he could not forget that he was not a whole man and never could be.
He stopped at a garden hose in the yard and washed Freddy's blood from his hands and the paring knife. He felt terribly alone and abandoned. His sister had deserted him for a mongrel dog, and now he didn't even have the dog for comfort. Nor, of course, did she, he realized.
He stood on the porch and looked out into the night. His big fingers handled the knife as if the handle were hot. He thought about killing Nola; he skipped that and thought about killing himself. One sweeping thrust and it was all over. No more frustration, no more remembering, no more silent anguished weeping in the night.
Then the anger returned and he went on into the house. They just thought they had him in a ball-less corner, he told himself. He was still a ton of man, and fuck them all.