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", "description_bbcode_parsed": "One of my longer stories, wherein a 'straight' cop is shown a little something about himself by his best friend and coworker.

Contains: Straight-to-Gay, blowjob, handjob, underwear, musk, multiple characters, very slight Non-consentual. ", "writing": "Donuts. I’m sick of goddamn donuts.” Officer Ralph Getson grumbled staring into the half empty white paper box. He took one anyway, to soothe the complaints of an empty stomach at the end of his shift, and leaned against the coffee-stained counter. He was still wearing his uniform, so he grimaced when a few shards of stale powdered sugar fell off onto the blues. It was bad enough looking like a coke-head after eating one of these, the way the sugar clung to his whiskers; they always had to dust his shirt too. \n Getson looked up as he heard the sharp click of dress shoes on the tile of the break room. Police Chief Sam Rally walked into the room, a coffee cup in one paw, and a newspaper in the other. “Ah, Getson, how was your night?” the fox asked, adjusting his tie as he set the empty coffee cup on the counter and grabbed the pot of coffee off its burner. Ralph watched the fox pour, licking at his lip where a drip of sugary jelly had clung. “Quiet, except for chasing some hooligans I spotted trying to break into that little drugstore on the corner. Little fuckers made me jump some fences but I managed to run one of them down.” he shook his head, gesturing with the half-eaten donut. “He’s already bawling for his mama down in the containment cell, the little punk. I’m sure he’ll sell his buddies out to get a lighter sentence.” \n Chief Rally smirked, lifting the coffee mug to his lips, then grimacing. “Fuck. Goddamn it does NOBODY know how to make fresh coffee around here? This shit is cold as a polar bear’s fuckin’ nutsack.” He slung the cold coffee into a nearby sink and went about dragging out the coffee can and filters. “That’s kids today for you.” He continued, responding to Getson’s story. “They’ll fuck up their whole record just to get high off their grandma’s arthritis meds. It makes me sick.” \n “Same, but not as sick as these donuts make me. Though, is that from personal experience?” The doberman cop asked, smiling. He took another bite of the donut, leaning on his elbow on the counter. \n“What are you asking about, Getson?” Chief Rally asked, cocking an eyebrow as he filled the coffee pot with water. “You know, the temperature of the polar bear’s nutsack? Fredericks said you had a date last week, I was just curious.” Getson snickered, ribbing his boss. Chief Rally scowled. “Mind your business and fuck you, Getson.” \nGetson laughed, then looked at the donut in his paw, drooling bright red jelly and growled, dumping the donut into the trash. His stomach was empty, but not so empty that he’d fill it with any more sugar and jelly the consistency of half-congealed snot. “And while you’re here, can’t you ever get anything in here besides donuts? I swear just because everyone THINKS that’s all we eat, doesn’t mean you have to make it true.” \n “Hey, I like ‘em. Bring a lunch tomorrow if you don’t want donuts, Getson.” Chief Rally replied, as the scent of brewing coffee began to waft through the break room. He flashed the tall doberman cop a smirk. “Yeah, fuck you too, Sam.” Getson replied, striding toward the door. Rally just laughed and shook his head. \n\n\n Getson headed for the locker room and showers, his stomach still complaining at him. It was just after 5AM and he hadn’t eaten since just before his shift at 9PM had started. He was trying to remember if he had a pack of crackers in his locker when he heard voices echoing from the locker room just ahead. It seemed he wasn’t the only one in the mood for a shower. He pushed through the heavy double door and was hit in the face with a wall of wet warm air and the sound of the showers going. A haze of steam filled the locker room, making the doberman instantly break out in a sweat under his uniform. He headed down the aisle to his own spot against the wall. He found his partner, a large mastiff named Randall Fredericks, sitting on the bench. He was already stripped down to his blue and white striped boxers. “I told you there wouldn’t be anything there but donuts.” the mastiff said, one large foot propped up on his knee. He was rubbing it with his paws, grimacing slightly. “Goddamn those kids. I damn near killed myself chasing their stupid asses.” \n “Yeah, well that’s why you need to hit the gym more than you hit the bar. That beer-gut is gonna catch up with you, Randy.” Getson snickered, unbuckling his utility belt. \n “Hey I’m going for PI anyway, I don’t need to bust my balls every day at the gym like you do, pig.” Randall retorted playfully, putting his foot down. He stood up and hooked his thumbs into his boxers and pulled them down. \n “Fuck, don’t mention balls, man. You know Tracey has been making me hold off cause she wants to have pups. I haven’t gotten any tail in two weeks. My nuts feel like they’re going to explode.” Getson groaned, unbuckling the front of his uniform, and untucking his shirt. He was wearing a white tank-top underneath. \n “That’s why you need to suck cock, dude. My boy practically pounces me when I come home from work, even when I ain’t had a shower.” Randall smirked proudly, pulling a duffel bag out of his locker and stuffing his boxers into it. \n “Heh, I’d sooner donate my dick to charity. I ain’t got nothing against you queers, but I ain’t putting no dick in my mouth.” Getson replied, shaking his head and making a face. “Even if Tracey has me by the nuts and won’t let go. At least I know when she goes into heat, I’ll get some pussy.” He unbuckled his belt and fly, and stepped out of his boots. His grey-soled socks came into view, damp with sweat. \n “Whatever, let your nuts explode then. I’ll be getting a nice slow blowjob when I get home.” Randall flashed his teeth and jostled his meat lewdly at the doberman. \n “Keep that shit up, man, and I’ll let you chase the punks by yourself next time.” Getson teased, as Randall headed for the shower. The doberman dropped his slacks and picked them up, now wearing nothing but a pair of grey boxer-briefs and his long socks. As he straightened up his stomach rumbled loudly, making him double slightly. Nausea gripped him momentarily. “Fuck the shower, I gotta eat,” he growled under his breath. He folded his uniform quickly and put it in his bag, grabbing his street clothes out of his locker. He pulled his shorts on, calling over his shoulder, “I’m out of here, Randy, I’m starving.” \n “See ya, dude!” he heard the mastiff call back and slid his feet into a pair of comfortable running shoes. He grabbed his bag and hurried out, his stomach still complaining. Outside it was still mostly dark, the sun just starting to color the edge of the eastern sky. The parking lot outside of the police station was mostly empty except for the cops that were just getting off duty. Getson made it to his truck and was reaching for his keys in his pocket when he heard the hammer of a pistol click. \n “Drop the bag. Don’t turn around.” \n Getson’s breath caught in his throat. Adrenaline hit his bloodstream in a tidal wave as his thoughts raced. He thought about his gun in his bag, he thought about the martial arts training he had, but in the end he knew he needed to wait his chance. He dropped his bag and lifted his paws up to either side of his head. He knew the gun-holder was behind him, and he looked into the glass of his driver’s side window, hoping he could see him. All he could make out was a gray hoodie and a ski mask. “I don’t want any trouble here. My wallet is in the bag and my keys are in my pocket. Take whatever you want.” he said in a steady voice, trying to sound neutral and unthreatening. \n “Take whatever I want, huh? What if what I want is right here?” the assailant grabbed Getson’s shoulder and spun him around. Before he could blink, Getson felt the muzzle of the gun shove hard up between his legs. He gasped, feeling the pistol dig into his balls inside his pants. He looked down, paws still up. He fought hard not to do anything drastic. “H-hey now, there’s no need for any violence.” He tried, then winced as the weapon dug a little deeper into his crotch. \n “Yeah, I figured all that cop bravado would go down the tubes if I put a gun at THIS head instead of the one on your shoulders, asshole.” the hooded figure sneered. Getson’s ears twitched. The voice was male, but it was definitely younger than he expected. Maybe early twenties. He didn’t have time to think about it, as he sensed more figures appearing around him. They came from behind him, from somewhere out of his peripheral vision. He didn’t dare turn his head to look. They were all wearing hoodies and ski masks. “We should put him in the van, Johnny, we’re too exposed.” one of them wearing a red hoodie said. He was holding a brown glass bottle and a cloth. The one in the grey hoodie with the gun turned around, snarling, “No names, dickhead!” He stepped back, keeping the gun pointed at Getson but no longer directly at his crotch. The doberman relaxed slightly, glad to have the gun away from his precious balls. The other figure stepped up, his demeanor slightly hesitant as he fumbled to take the cap off of the bottle. The acrid stench of chloroform hit Getson’s nose. “This isn’t necessary. You can have anything you want from me, my credit cards, my money, my car anything. Just let me go.” Getson tried again. He kept his face neutral and unthreatening, but inside he was ready to spring at any moment. \n That moment presented itself when the red hoodie stepped directly in front of him, blocking out the aim of the grey hoodie’s gun. He snapped his paws forward, grabbing the front of the hoodie and jerking the guy off balance. He moved a lot easier than he thought he would, confirming that these were just more hooligans. He pushed the red hoodie forward, sending him careening into the gun carrier. They fell in a heap. Two other assailants moved in, one holding a baseball bat, the other a crowbar. These two were larger and moved with more determination. Getson knelt quickly and grabbed his duffel bag, wrapping the straps around his paw and putting himself in a ready stance. The baseball bat swung at him, but he used the bag to block it. He saw the crowbar moving toward him, swung at his head, but he ducked it, swinging around and using the bag to hit the hooded guy wielding it. The guy stumbled and fell and Getson slammed his shoe into his back, kicking him onto his face. He whirled around, ready to fight, when he heard several older male voices yell, “FREEZE! POLICE!” \n Getson nearly groaned with relief, seeing Chief Rally, Randall and the two other Officers who were off-duty standing a short distance away, pistols drawn. The hooligans did freeze, the one with the gun quickly dropping it. He heard the baseball bat clatter to the ground, along with the sharp clang of the crowbar. “Cuff those punks.” Getson heard Rally order, keeping his own gun pointed at them as the three officers hurried forward. Randall was in street clothes, the other two officers were in their underwear. Randall was cuffing the punk with the crowbar, who was nearest to Getson. The mastiff looked over at Getson and smirked. “Chief saw you on the security feed, came running into the lockers and got us out here. You’re lucky he was paying attention. He said they were gonna shoot your nuts off.” Randall grinned wide. “Still feel so strongly about what we talked about?” he teased, pushing the punk up against Getson’s truck to frisk him alongside his buddies. Chief Rally had the red hoodie against the trunk, his ski-masked face pushed down to the metal. “Jesus, these kids are getting bolder and stupider by the day.” He commented, pulling the hoodie back and the ski-mask off. The face of a trembling dalmatian came into view, looking to be barely seventeen years old. Getson pulled his pistol out of his bag and covered the other officers as they marched the punks into the station to be booked. \n\n\n The sun was up by the time Getson got to walk back out to his truck. He had to be around to give his statement about what had happened, which of course was backed up by the video camera’s evidence. All of the hooligans were booked and locked up, their parents called. Getson had never seen such a pitiful looking bunch. Randall had walked out with him, the mastiff eating one of the donuts that had been left in the breakroom. “Can you believe those punks were part of the group that were at the drugstore? How badly fucked up are you that you’ll try and get revenge on a cop outside of his station?” he commented through a mouthful of stale apple fritter. \n “Pretty fucked up. I’m just glad we caught them.” Getson agreed, rubbing his crotch for emphasis. “The way that one with the gun was acting I was worried he was going to blow my balls off on accident, instead of on purpose.” \n “Heheh I keep telling you, Getson, you gotta start sucking cock. You’ll get your rocks off, instead of getting them BLOWN off.” Randall snickered. \n “I doubt having sweaty dick breath would have saved me tonight, Randall.” Getson grumbled, rolling his eyes. \n “Nah, probably not, but you’d at least have gotten off beforehand. Not strutting around with half-a-month of puppy-batter sloshing around in your stones cause the wife wants you to put a bun in her oven.” Randall chuckled, finishing off the apple fritter and wiping crumbs off his whiskers. “Lets go to IHOP, dude, I know you’re starving and I am too after all that excitement.” \n At the mention of food, Getson’s stomach did flip flops. “Yeah, lets do it.” He opened his truck door, and slid into the driver’s seat. “Hey, can I bum a ride with you there and back here? I’m low on gas and I’m low on cash to get more.” Randall asked. \n “Yeah, sure, whatever dude, just hurry the fuck up, I’m starving.” Getson nodded, gesturing impatiently with his paw. Randall walked around the truck and climbed into the passenger side. \n “I sure hope those little punks get their acts together, it’s sickening to see kids so young turning to--MMPH!” Getson choked in mid-sentence as a white cloth soaked with chloroform wrapped around his muzzle. He struggled, looking wide-eyed at Randall beside him, who had the half empty bottle of chloroform from the hooligans in his free paw, the other one pressing the chemical soaked cloth to Getson’s mouth and nose. Getson’s vision swam, his brain shutting down as the fumes did their work. Spiralling into darkness, Getson passed out staring into the grinning face of his co-worker. “Sorry, Getson, but you’ll thank me for this.” Randall murmured to himself as he slid the unconscious doberman over in the seat and got behind the wheel. \n Getson’s consciousness returned in small waves, following the pulsing in his temples and behind his eyes. A headache worse than any hangover throbbed inside his skull, gradually bringing the cop back to the waking world. His body felt heavy, like it was glued to whatever surface it was resting on. His chemical addled brain tried to figure out what had happened, but he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or awake yet. A sudden blast of cold water directly to his face shattered that groggy stupor. Getson coughed, sputtering and shaking his head. Blinking, the pounding behind his eyes intensifying as light hit his pupils. It blinded him, making him clench his eyelids shut once more. “W-what’s going on? Where am I?” he stammered hoarsely. \n “This is an intervention, Ralphy.” A familiar voice said nearby. The voice was familiar, but his brain had trouble placing it. Another blast of cold water hit his face and head as sharp as a punch. Getson gasped, the deluge washing away the last of his grogginess. He opened his eyes again and instantly knew he was in a basement. Concrete floors were stained with oil, metal shelves were lined with tools, and paint cans were stacked in one corner. All at once his brain remembered everything, including who was speaking to him now. \n “Randall! What the fuck is going on here?” He shouted, trying to stand up. He couldn’t. He looked down at himself and learned two things. He was handcuffed paws and feet to a wooden chair, and he was naked. \n “Like I said, Getson, this is an intervention. I’m going to teach you how to accept the truth about yourself.” Randall said, a smile tugging at his muzzle. Getson looked back up at the other cop, his long-time partner and best friend. “If this is some kind of prank, dude, not cool. Tracey is going to be PISSED that I’m not home yet. She had some baby shower to go to today and needed to borrow my truck. Let me up from here, dammit, where’s my cell?” \n “Tracey? Pfft, that stupid cunt is one of the biggest reasons why you’re sitting naked in my basement, Ralph.” Randall snickered, reaching down into a cooler near his feet and pulling out a can of beer. He picked up the empty, water speckled glass he had used to douse Getson with, and poured the beer into it. \n “Stupid cunt? Hey, Randall, in case you forgot, that’s my WIFE.” Getson growled, his head whipping around from looking for his clothes and glare at the mastiff. Randall sipped his beer and grinned. “Only because you can’t see the truth, Ralph. She suckered you into that marriage, and now she’s trying to sucker you into knocking her up. She’s trying to chain you down, dude, and you can’t see it.” \n “Randall, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, but you’re starting to piss me off. Let me out of the motherfucking chair before I have you arrested for unlawful detainment.” Getson snarled, anger glinting in his dark eyes like a polished gemstone. \n “Oh it’s not unlawful, Ralph, not at all. You WANT to be here. You just don’t know it yet.” Randall sat his beer down on the floor and walked a little closer to Getson, leaning down so that they were face to face. Getson kept up his snarl, and Randall kept right on smiling. \n “I want you to listen and listen good, Ralph Getson. You. Are. Gay.” Randall said slowly, poking Getson in the bare chest with each word. Getson threw his head back and laughed, but there was no mirth in it. “Gay? GAY?! This IS some kind of twisted prank. Fuck you, Randall, let me out of this chair. I’m NOT and never will be gay, no matter how BADLY you want to fuck around with me.” \n “Oh but you are, Ralph. You really are and you’ve just repressed it. You’ve shared a lot of stuff with me over the ten years we’ve been partners, and I’ve got an eye for these things.” Randall growled, straightening up. It was then that Getson noticed that Randall was naked too, except for a pair of white socks on his large feet. The doberman growled, “Do I need to remind you what “Rape” is, Randall?” \n Randall laughed, grabbing his beer and swigging down half of it. “Again,” he grunted, pointing a finger at Getson, “It’s not rape because you want to be here, Ralph. You just don’t know it yet. You’re so deceived by lies that you don’t even realize how gay you are. Fuck, dude, you’re gayer than ME. Let me tell you why.” \n The mastiff raised his paw, and with his other hand, began pushing his fingers down one by one. “Exhibit A: You only wear designer underwear. In 10 years on the Force, I’ve never seen you in anything less than Calvin Klein. Ever. You look at me, you look at Mitchell, both of us are gay. I wear Hanes, I wear Fruit of the Looms. Mitchell wears those cheap-ass fuckin’ white boxers. You, the “straight” dude, wear Calvin Klein, 2xist, Tommy Hilfiger, etc. etc.” \n Getson shook his head, laughing softly. “You really grasp at straws there, Randall. What underwear I wear is a choice of comfort, not an expression of my sexuality! Explain Tracey. If I’m gay, how could I be MARRIED?” \n “I’m getting to that, Ralph, but be patient. I have other things first.” Randall said, waving aside the comment impatiently. “Exhibit B: Your father was so homophobic that he wouldn’t even let you have male friends growing up. He was convinced that your horny teenage cock would end up getting sucked by a guy instead of a girl. And you know what? He was right. It would have.” \n “My father wasn’t homophobic, he just wanted me to stay on the straight and narrow and have a wife and kids!” Getson retorted, his face hard. “This is stupid, Randall, let me out of here. I’m going to be in SO much trouble when I get home.” \n “What are you, Ralph, Thirteen? Does Tracey take away your PS3 privileges when you’re ‘bad’ like she takes away your fuckin’ DICK?” Randall snorted, shaking his head. “That bitch is crazy. Look at what you’ve got dangling there between your legs, and think about it. Would ANY woman sanction getting to ride that MONSTER, unless she had an agenda?” Randall pointed between Getson’s legs so sharply that the doberman did look down at himself. Getson was not by any means, an ‘average’ male. His cock, which was currently draped over his left thigh, was 8 inches long soft. He was hung like a horse. \n “She wants kids, dude. She wants me to be fertile and she wants to be fertile too. Tracey loves sex as much as I do.” Getson protested, his brow furrowed. \n “Oh really? Last year at the Christmas party, you got drunk as a skunk. Wasted out of your mind, dude, and guess who was there to make sure you didn’t puke and pass out somewhere dangerous. Me. And do you know what you said to me in that drunken stupor? You told me that Tracey only has sex with you once a week.” Randall sloshed his beer around, cocking an eyebrow at Getson. \n “She’s busy a lot! She has a career.” \n “She’s a fucking receptionist, Ralph.” Randall snickered, rolling his eyes. “But that’s not the point. You said something else to me, that night. After revealing that Tracey only fucks you once a week, you also stated, ‘And that’s just fine with me. I hate having sex with Tracey.’” The mastiff finished his beer, and belched. “And that brings me to my last point. Tracey herself. You knew her three-and-a-half months before you popped the question. You know what else happened in those three-and-a-half months? Your dad moved in with you. Into YOUR house. With your Calvin Klein underwear, your Armani suits, and your granite countertops and solid oak hardwood floors. I don’t have to be psychic to hear the old bastard insinuating you’re a ‘fuckin’ queer’ all the time. So you popped the question to Tracey to prove him wrong, to make sure daddy was happy. And you might as well have dropped your boys there into the vice right on the fuckin’ altar, because it wasn’t much longer before she had you by your nuts and was happily twisting them off.” \n Randall paused, folding his arms. Getson was quiet in the chair, staring at the floor, so he continued. “But before she does twist your balls all the way off, Ralph, she had to get one last good fertile load of your puppy-batter out of them. You know why? Because she knows you’re gay too, Ralph. And she doesn’t want the gravy train to be derailed once you figure it out for yourself. She wants all the money you won hitting the lottery, and she wants you working and out of the house every night so she can fuck whoever she wants while your pup sits in daycare. Having a kid would tie you financially to her, forever.” \n Randall stopped talking then, the big mastiff waiting for a response from Getson. The doberman looked up, and met Randall’s gaze. That resolve, all of that utter defiance was cracked like a buckled wall, but it was still there. “I’m not gay, Randall. I’m not.” Getson said, though he seemed more intent on convincing himself, instead of his friend. “Let me go home to my wife.” \n “Nope. I thought this might take some hard work. So, no more ‘Mr. Nice Guy’, Ralph. It’s time to play hardball.” Randall walked over to a wall and pushed a button attached to an intercom. Getson looked around nervously as he heard a door open behind him and sensed others entering the room. He blinked as two more familiar males stepped into the room. Xander Mitchell, a large, powerfully built black bear and a cop whom Getson saw daily. And Police Chief Sam Rally. Both of them grinned wide at Getson, Rally wearing nothing but a pair of white briefs and some brown argyle socks. Mitchell was naked and a fat red ball gag hung from his right paw by its leather strap. “You want to do this the hard way? We’ll do it the hard way, Ralph.” Randall said, taking the ball gag from Mitchell and striding forward. \n “Randall, no, don’t do this--MMPH!” Getson started, but Randall was quick. As he was speaking, that gag was pushed into his muzzle and fastened into place so quickly Getson barely had time to blink. “You gotta learn when to keep your mouth shut, Ralph.” Randall snickered teasingly. “Like when a trio of your coworkers are going to stuff a ball gag in your mouth.” \n Stepping back, Randall pushed the button on the wall once more. “I wanted to go slow with you a little, Ralph, but we have one more player to add to this little game.” the mastiff chuckled, as the door behind Getson opened again. Mitchell, the black bear, grinned and let his tongue roll out lewdly, massaging his fat package openly. Chief Rally just smirked, watching the new comer walk toward them. Getson looked around, his eyes flickering nervously as the figure came into view. He stared at him, watching the tall great dane stride over to Randall. The dane was wearing a full set of clothing. A blue button-down shirt open over a white wifebeater, crisp black slacks and a gold chain around his neck. \n “Ralphy, meet my boy, Stuart. He’s the star dancer down at the club downtown. Ain’t he hot?” Randall growled, reaching down and groping the tall great dane as he pulled him into a kiss. He was taller than anyone else in the room, so the dane had to lean down. Getson just stared. Randall pulled back after a moment and flashed a grin at Getson. “Stu here is going to put on a nice little private show for you, Ralph. Oh, and if you’re still so set on denying your sexuality, take a gander at your pecker there.” Randall added, pointing between Getson’s legs again. The doberman glanced downward and blushed brightly. His dick, which had started completely flaccid, had moved down his thigh. It was fatter, a little longer, veins starting to pop up in the shaft and the head was slightly darker. It was getting hard. \n “See there, Ralph? Can’t deny the truth. But we’re not going to let you off that easily, oh no. Adrenaline can do a lot for a cock. So we’re going to have a little fun. Stu, strut your stuff.” Randall said, stepping back and gesturing for Rally and Mitchell to do the same. Stuart stepped forward, grinning at Getson. “I think you like what you see here.” he said, his voice a deep velvety bass. He ran his paws down the front of his tank top, pulling it tight across his washboard abs. “Mmm makes me hot to strip for such a sexy guy like you. Great body, BIG cock, mmm how could you not be gay?” Stu murmured. Suddenly a soft pumping beat started to play, some hidden stereo beginning to play. Stuart moved his body, flexing and rocking with the throb of the music. \nGetson stared, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. He pressed his tongue against the rubber ball in his mouth, feeling a string of drool run down his chin. His own pulse ran hot, spiced with stomach tingling arousal. His brain raced his eyes stared at Stuart stripping off his shirt, the well-muscled great dane moving smoothly with the beat. It felt so wrong staring at a guy taking his clothes off, but somewhere deep in his brain the reinforced walls of denial were crumbling. And pure lust was pouring through the cracks. \n“Hehe I think we’re getting through to him.” Mitchell commented, the bear eagerly stroking his plump cock as he watched Stuart dance. Randall leaned against the wall, sedately rubbing his own hanging endowment. “We’re just getting started boys, you better go easy on your prick there, Mitch. I don’t want you popping early and quitting on me. We’ve got a job to do here.” \n“Yeah yeah, I know what I’m doing.” Mitchell growled, slowing down just a little. Rally glanced over, rubbing the front of his briefs, which were starting to tent. “I don’t think he even realizes his cock is hard.” he commented, pointing at Getson. Sure enough the doberman’s massive shaft was standing up between his legs, twitching in place. It was massive, even bigger hard than it was soft. \n“Why don’t you go remind him, Chief, while he watches Stu. But don’t make him cum.” Randall growled, eyeing that massive cock between Getson’s thighs. “Damn...I knew he was big but, good fuck, I never knew he was THAT big...” \nRally walked over to the doberman, his soft argyle dress socks padding on the smooth concrete floor. He stood beside Getson, the doberman’s eyes fixed on Stuart, who was in the middle of opening up his pants slowly. He spread the flaps of his fly, flashing his underwear clad bulge, then flipped them closed again. He zipped up, but left his button and belt undone so that his pants sagged, showing off the waistband of his underwear. Rally grinned at the teasing antics and knelt before Getson. \nThe doberman stared at the show being put on before him, his heart racing. His blood was on fire, every muscle in his body tensed like a spring. Sweat rolled down his muzzle. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, but he could hear his father inside his brain. “You faggot!” He shouted. A mixture of shame and, much to Getson’s surprise, pride sprouted in the doberman’s stomach. His empty stomach did flip flops as arousal, shame and pride crashed together into a ball of emotion inside him. Suddenly, his inner thoughts shattered as pleasure ran down his cock like a lightning bolt. He snapped his eyes away from Stuart’s show for a bare second, looking down to see that Rally had started licking the head of his cock with long slow strokes. Getson groaned. He groaned and his toes curled against the concrete, his eyes rolling. \nPleasure shot down his dick from his sensitive knob and went straight to his balls. For two-weeks his fat nuts had held their payload, and now they churned, burning in his sac. Getson tossed his head back, breathing hard through his nose. His cock was so hard it hurt, veins standing out along his shaft like they were ready to burst. The pleasure was so intense that he rocked the chair, his dick flexing away from Rally’s teasing tongue. He couldn’t take it, the licking was frying synapses in his brain causing static to fill his vision. His denied genitals were on overdrive, the tabooness of seeing a guy strip and having a guy licking his penis combined with two weeks of celibacy was too much. \n“Look, Ralph. Look!” Randall’s voice growled in Getson’s ear, breaking the reverie that was blinding the doberman. Getson opened his eyes, and found himself staring at Stuart in his underwear. The big blue dane was massaging his bulge, a hefty outline of cock and balls squeezed in his large fingers. Getson breathed hard, eyes locked on that bulging cloth. “Do you recognize those brief boxers, Ralph?” Randall asked, his head right alongside the doberman’s. Getson looked more intently at the underwear, and then blushed. They were his own grey boxer briefs, the ones he had worn all last night on his beat. Then Getson writhed, as Rally began to suck on his cock properly. He squirmed in the chair, the soft, seemingly unending, muzzle curling around his turgid, tortured flesh. His balls practically vibrated as Rally’s paws gently cupped and massaged them. More drool bubbled out around the ball gag. \n“Take ‘em off, Stu, let’s let Ralph get an eyeful of what he really wants.” Randall practically purred. Stuart grinned and slipped his paws away from his bulge, before teasing the underwear down and off. His cock, fat and heavy, flopped down in front of his dangling nuts. Almost as big as Getson’s, but not quite. Getson gaped as he watched the dane lift his sweat soaked, musky brief boxers to his muzzle and breathed deep. The dane groaned and his cock rose all by itself, jutting straight up and down against his abs. “Oh, fuck me! You smell so damn good.” Stuart growled, his dick twitching. Getson watched a bead of precum roll down the dane’s bulbous knob. \nRally meanwhile kept up his work, sucking on as much of that massive shaft as he could, his paws massaging balls and cock-root alternately. He loved the throbbing of the huge dick in his muzzle, Getson’s penis hard as a steel bar and starting to leak. His crotch was musky, tinged with the sweat from the night before. The scent was intoxicating, as Getson soon found out. Stuart stepped close and took Getson’s own brief boxers, and pressed them over the doberman’s trembling, sweaty muzzle. The mixture of scents, both his own, and Stuart’s was a heady concoction. Getson moaned weakly, his voice trembling as his eyes rolled in his head. \n“Rally, let go.” Randall ordered, and Rally pulled off, leaving that huge dick to twitch and throb in open empty air. Getson squirmed, panting, his face distorted in confusion. “Did you think you were going to get off so easily, Ralph? You’ve waited two weeks to unload those balls. I want every last drop in them.” Randall teased, taking the underwear off of Getson’s muzzle and giving them a whiff of his own. His cock twitched, wider than it was long, a hefty beercan of a cock that jutted out under the mastiff’s budding beer-gut. It was just a few inches away from Getson’s ball-gagged muzzle. “If you wanna cum, you’ve gotta get all four of us off first.” \nThe doberman whimpered around the ball-gag, looking down at his rigid shaft. It was bouncing with his heartbeat, engorged and throbbing. Precum drooled out of the gaping slit, trickling down across the underside of his cock. He groaned; just that small amount of stimulation was enough to make his penis tremble and his legs shake. Then he felt the ball-gag loosen and come free, Randall sliding it out of his mouth. “However, Ralph, if you truly believe that you are straight and you are happy and that you want to go home to Tracey, then say so right now. If you really want to go, we’ll let you. But if you believe us, that you know deep down what I’ve been saying is the truth...then suck my cock...” Randall said as he stood between Getson’s spread legs. Getson looked down, the mastiff’s wide cock only an inch or two from his lips. He eyed it, the tawny shade of the shaft, the bright purple of the large head. The way it twitched and flexed, and the way Randall’s large, tight nuts wobbled as he adjusted his stance. He stared at the cock he’d seen a hundred times, but never so close or so hard, like it was the first penis he’d ever seen. Then Getson looked up at Randall, slowly smirked and growled, “You just had to find a way to give me sweaty dick breath, didn’t you?” before opening wide and slurping down Randall’s sausage like there was no tomorrow. \n“Oh fuck, yeah, that’s it....shit you’re a goddamn natural, Ralph!” Randall barked, his paws flying to the doberman’s head as he bobbed between his legs. “Whoa now, slow down, it ain’t a race. Gah, watch the teeth! There you go, just like that....Ooooh fuck that’s niiiiiice!” Getson rolled his tongue against the salty shaft in his mouth, the flavor burning across his tongue like a searing heat. He was blushing the hardest he ever had before, and deep down, his stomach still churned with a mixture of shame and embarrassment. But he knew that his friend was right, and he was determined to reward him for that. \nThe doberman grunted as he felt Randall’s nuts bumping his chin, the chubby mastiff’s hips starting to buck in time with his bobbing. “Don’t forget to breathe now, Ralphy. It ain’t goin’ nowhere, just enjoy it. Ooh damn...somebody let his paws loose, I want him to play with my balls.” Getson’s ears flicked, and he felt the handcuffs on his wrists released. He reached up, keeping his rhythm as he cupped the mastiff’s furry scrotum in his palm. He was surprised at the weight of the other dog’s testicles, the hefty pouch weighing against his fingers. It was warm and tight, a mixture of natural tightness and arousal, the skin sliding over the smooth surfaces of the orbs within. Touching Randall’s balls made him aware of the ache in his own pair once more, the doberman groaning. Someone took it as a signal and grabbed his cock again, stroking it steadily as he sucked Randall off. \nSuddenly, there was another cock alongside Randall’s, this one more slender, but still girthy and longer. Getson looked up, seeing Stu grinning down at him. Getson popped his mouth off of Randall’s shaft, and licked his lips. He reached over and pulled Stu in close by his cock and pressed his nose into the great dane’s crotch, just above his hard dick. He breathed in deeply, drinking the dane’s musk thirstily. Stu grunted, feeling his cock rubbing against the smooth black fur of the doberman’s neck and cheek. Getson pulled back, his tongue hanging out after breathing in the musk. He licked Stu’s cock from base to tip, and pushed it against his flat stomach with his nose, kissing and nibbling at the underside of the torpedo shaped head. Stu curled his toes, his fingers playing with the doberman’s ears. Getson resumed sucking, bobbing his head along the great dane’s shaft. He gagged more on Stu’s, the dane’s longer dick sliding toward the back of his throat, and its upward curve rubbing against the roof of doberman’s mouth. He kept it up though, no matter how his eyes watered or his throat spasmed. He wanted to please them. Years of tension melted away from the big doberman steadily, all the lies he’d told himself, all the deceit he’d endured. All of it trickling away as he worked to suck off the two dogs in front of him. \nAfter a long while of playing by ear, Getson finally had both of the two dogs panting and clenching, their muscles outlined in sweaty fur. “Ooh fuck he’s a fast learner.....I’m about ready to blow!” Stu panted, watched as Getson licked Randall’s hefty balls. \n“Shit, tell me about it, Stu...I’m gonna bust any minute now.” Randall grunted. Meanwhile, Getson’s own cock was twitching on the edge of orgasm, Rally’s skilled paws teasing it right up to the point of no return. The doberman was sweating and shaking, the teasing touches and brushes across his cock making it feel like it was on fire. He squirmed in his seat, only his feet cuffed in now. He wrapped his mouth back around Randall’s cock and began strongly sucking at it, trying to pull the mastiff over the edge. It worked perfectly. \n“Oh god, oh shit! Gahhhhhhh! I’m cumming!” The big mastiff shouted, grabbing Getson’s ears. The doberman braced himself, but he was unprepared for the massive glob of semen that squirted out against the roof of his mouth. He balked, the heat and pungent saltiness causing him to gag as more of the gooey fluid spurted out of Randall’s cock. He bucked, white gobs of cum escaping his muzzle to drip down his neck and chin as Randall held on, the doberman’s gagging only egging him on further. Randall jerked with every spurt that left his wide cock, his body convulsing and his toes curling on the concrete inside his socks. He damn near fainted after he finished, releasing Getson from his death grip and staring down at his still hard, cum and saliva smeared cock. Getson worked to swallow the last mouthful, but he barely had time to get it down before another hot rope of white splattered across his muzzle. Stu, having watched his boyfriend get off so hard, couldn’t hold his own load anymore. He came without touching his cock, his body spasming as his pecker started fountaining cum all over the doberman’s muzzle and forehead. \nGetson took the facial stoically, feeling the other male’s jizz landing over his face and neck, tasting Randall’s own seed on his tongue. The scent of semen and male musk was all the doberman could smell. \n “You guys get outta the way, it’s my turn!” Getson heard Mitchell growl, and when he looked up again he found himself face to face with another thick fleshy hard-on. It was slightly longer than Randall’s but shorter than Stu’s and had a head on it like a boxing-glove. It was leaking precum steadily, the large low-hanging balls underneath it already streaked with the slippery fluid. “C’mon, rookie, if you wanna get your rocks off, you gotta blow me.” Mitchell goaded, the big hairy black bear thrusting his cock forward so it poked Getson’s nose insistently. The doberman licked a melting blob of Stuart’s cum off of his cheek, grimacing slightly. The flavor was new, and slightly off-putting, but Getson liked it anyway. His stomach twirled again as he realized there was nothing in it now but Randall’s cum. And then a tingle ran through him, a buzz of warm orgasm so close that he could taste it on his tongue. It was there like the brush of a feather and then gone. He panted, looking down. Rally grinned up at him. “Heheh almost went too far that time. I’m gonna have to lay off your knob awhile. Somebody is getting close!” the fox teased, still wearing his briefs, which were sorely tented out and soaked with a dark wet spot now. Getson groaned frustratedly. He wanted to cum so badly, his cock looked ready to burst and his balls were churning in his scrotum. Eager for his own orgasm, he immediately went down on Mitchell with a soft growl. \n“Oooh yeah, ooooh fuck....yeah yeah that’s goooooood!” The bear panted, grunting and growling as the doberman sucked his cock. “Ow, jeez watch your teeth, Cujo, it’s a cock not a Nylabone.” Getson was getting better but he was still a novice at sucking cock. He didn’t let that deter him though. He quickly grabbed the bear’s heavy balls and rolled them in his palm, and in no time had the big bear grunting and growling his pleasure once more. Rally was teasing him still, stroking and licking his cock, causing the doberman’s head to spin at times as orgasm neared and then faded off again. His entire body was as tight and as tense as a bowstring, his focus entirely on the cock in his mouth and his own dick between his legs. \n“Oh fuck, oh fuck, gonna blow, here it comes! FUCK!” Mitchell shouted, throwing his head back. He grabbed the back of Getson’s head and started wildly thrusting, fucking the amateur doberman’s muzzle. Getson gagged, his eyes bugging out, as the bear pumped his tangy load into his muzzle and fucked it down his throat. He felt the semen backing up in his throat, managing to get above his soft palette into his nose. He tried to swallow it as much as he could, as the bear came furiously, holding Getson down on his cock now. \n“Hey, Mitch, let him breathe man! You’re drowning him.” Randall barked, pulling the bear back. One last jet of semen launched from the bulbous cockhead of the bear and splattered across Getson’s muzzle. The doberman gagged and coughed, gasping as he cleared his airway. He trembled his eyes watering, and his heart pounding. The raw pungent flavor the bear’s cum was the strongest yet. It was bitter and metallic. Getson moaned. His cock and never been so hard before. \nPolice Chief Rally stood up, leaving Getson’s cock alone to bob in the air between his legs. The fox pulled his precum stained briefs down to his knees, his cock springing up. It was smaller, more average sized but still a handsome member. “Stroke it off, rookie. You’ve gagged on enough cum today. Let’s see how you work those paws.” the fox ordered. Getson reached up, curling one paw around the fox’s slick penis. He started to stroke, slowly at first. It felt so different from his own cock, but at the same time felt similar. He cupped the Chief’s nuts in his other paw, blushing lightly as he realized he was handjobbing his boss. He stroked a little faster, the fox groaning and rolling his head on his neck. “Mmmm yeah, like that. Squeeze it.” he purred, and Getson did, squeezing the fox’s dick on each stroke. Rally’s toes curled in his socks, spreading and then clenching. He hunched over, a ripple passing through his form, and then he barked. His cock twitched and began squirting thin lines of watery jizz out onto Getson’s chest and stroking paw. Getson watched his boss blowing his wad, his nose twitching at the scent of the fox’s semen. It all smelled different, and the same. When Rally was done, Getson licked his paw. The vulpine’s semen was sweeter, and more mild. Pleasant. \nNow Getson looked up at the row of four satisfied males in front of him, cocks flagging but still standing, semen dripping from cockheads and from the doberman’s muzzle and neck. Sweaty balls dangled loose and sated. Except for one hefty, churning pair. Getson’s own heavy family jewels. \n“Well now, what do you think, guys? Does Officer Getson here deserve to get off?” Chief Rally asked teasingly, pulling his briefs up over his semi-erection. \n“Hmmmm...I’d say he needs to practice a little more, but I think he deserves an orgasm. He’s nuts might pop if we don’t get him off, anyway!” Mitchell teased, the big bear crossing his arms. Randall grinned toothily, the big mastiff kneeling down in front of the doberman. “Then you all better lend a hand. With a cock this big I’m gonna need some help!” \nThe four of them knelt on either side of Getson. Randall, Stu and Mitchell all wrapped a paw around the doberman’s cock, Rally grabbing Getson’s aching testicles. “Everybody ready?” Randall asked, to which he received unanimous nods. “Alright, get this doberman off!” \nThey all started pumping the big cop’s cock in unison, pumping his long shaft with equal rhythm as Rally fondled and rolled the big dog’s balls around in his paws. Getson squirmed in the chair, panting and thrusting against the stroking paws. He felt his blood rising, feeling the pleasure starting to build up once more after so much teasing and denial. He started to huff, his brain short-circuiting again under so much pleasure. He screwed his eyes tightly closed as the four other males jerked him off, the doberman’s hips bucking. His dick pulsed, throbbing furiously under their pumping fingers and paws, his nuts bulging in Rally’s grip. It was all too much. After all that teasing and stimulation, the doberman couldn’t take anymore at last. He threw his head back, his body caught up in a rictus of ecstasy and he thrust his cock toward the sky and howled at the top of his lungs. The door behind him shook on its hinges as Getson’s cock bulged, the underside swelling out as the river of cum poured through his urethra. It finally burst from the tip of his cock, a long cable of yellow cum that splashed down on the doberman’s heaving chest from neck to navel and stayed connected to his cockhead. Another huge gush and another followed, these shooting over his head to mark his face, and the concrete behind him. His testicles felt like they were turning inside out, the yellow, long pent up semen fountaining out of him in steady streams that went on for at least a minute. \nFinally, the torrent of cum slowed to a stop, the doberman’s huge dick belching out small blobs, but no longer huge ropes. He relaxed, his body slumping backwards into the chair, exhausted. Vaguely, Getson felt his paws released from the chair and he was lowered to the floor. He felt warm breath on his ear and a pat on his shoulder. “Rest up, buddy. Round two is in an hour.” \nGetson’s eyes snapped open, and he looked up just in time to see Randall and the others leave the basement, laughing all the way. The cop curled up on the floor, stinking of semen, sweat and male musk. And he was happy. \n“By the way,” he heard Randall call from the door, just as he was about to fall asleep, “Don’t worry about telling Tracey. We got the whole thing on video! Hahahaha!”", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Donuts. I’m sick of goddamn donuts.” Officer Ralph Getson grumbled staring into the half empty white paper box. He took one anyway, to soothe the complaints of an empty stomach at the end of his shift, and leaned against the coffee-stained counter. He was still wearing his uniform, so he grimaced when a few shards of stale powdered sugar fell off onto the blues. It was bad enough looking like a coke-head after eating one of these, the way the sugar clung to his whiskers; they always had to dust his shirt too.
        Getson looked up as he heard the sharp click of dress shoes on the tile of the break room. Police Chief Sam Rally walked into the room, a coffee cup in one paw, and a newspaper in the other. “Ah, Getson, how was your night?” the fox asked, adjusting his tie as he set the empty coffee cup on the counter and grabbed the pot of coffee off its burner. Ralph watched the fox pour, licking at his lip where a drip of sugary jelly had clung. “Quiet, except for chasing some hooligans I spotted trying to break into that little drugstore on the corner. Little fuckers made me jump some fences but I managed to run one of them down.” he shook his head, gesturing with the half-eaten donut. “He’s already bawling for his mama down in the containment cell, the little punk. I’m sure he’ll sell his buddies out to get a lighter sentence.”
        Chief Rally smirked, lifting the coffee mug to his lips, then grimacing. “Fuck. Goddamn it does NOBODY know how to make fresh coffee around here? This shit is cold as a polar bear’s fuckin’ nutsack.” He slung the cold coffee into a nearby sink and went about dragging out the coffee can and filters. “That’s kids today for you.” He continued, responding to Getson’s story. “They’ll fuck up their whole record just to get high off their grandma’s arthritis meds. It makes me sick.”
        “Same, but not as sick as these donuts make me. Though, is that from personal experience?” The doberman cop asked, smiling. He took another bite of the donut, leaning on his elbow on the counter.
“What are you asking about, Getson?” Chief Rally asked, cocking an eyebrow as he filled the coffee pot with water. “You know, the temperature of the polar bear’s nutsack? Fredericks said you had a date last week, I was just curious.” Getson snickered, ribbing his boss. Chief Rally scowled. “Mind your business and fuck you, Getson.”
Getson laughed, then looked at the donut in his paw, drooling bright red jelly and growled, dumping the donut into the trash. His stomach was empty, but not so empty that he’d fill it with any more sugar and jelly the consistency of half-congealed snot. “And while you’re here, can’t you ever get anything in here besides donuts? I swear just because everyone THINKS that’s all we eat, doesn’t mean you have to make it true.”
        “Hey, I like ‘em. Bring a lunch tomorrow if you don’t want donuts, Getson.” Chief Rally replied, as the scent of brewing coffee began to waft through the break room. He flashed the tall doberman cop a smirk. “Yeah, fuck you too, Sam.” Getson replied, striding toward the door. Rally just laughed and shook his head.


        Getson headed for the locker room and showers, his stomach still complaining at him. It was just after 5AM and he hadn’t eaten since just before his shift at 9PM had started. He was trying to remember if he had a pack of crackers in his locker when he heard voices echoing from the locker room just ahead. It seemed he wasn’t the only one in the mood for a shower. He pushed through the heavy double door and was hit in the face with a wall of wet warm air and the sound of the showers going. A haze of steam filled the locker room, making the doberman instantly break out in a sweat under his uniform. He headed down the aisle to his own spot against the wall.  He found his partner, a large mastiff named Randall Fredericks, sitting on the bench. He was already stripped down to his blue and white striped boxers. “I told you there wouldn’t be anything there but donuts.” the mastiff said, one large foot propped up on his knee. He was rubbing it with his paws, grimacing slightly. “Goddamn those kids. I damn near killed myself chasing their stupid asses.”
        “Yeah, well that’s why you need to hit the gym more than you hit the bar. That beer-gut is gonna catch up with you, Randy.” Getson snickered, unbuckling his utility belt.
        “Hey I’m going for PI anyway, I don’t need to bust my balls every day at the gym like you do, pig.” Randall retorted playfully, putting his foot down. He stood up and hooked his thumbs into his boxers and pulled them down.
        “Fuck, don’t mention balls, man. You know Tracey has been making me hold off cause she wants to have pups. I haven’t gotten any tail in two weeks. My nuts feel like they’re going to explode.” Getson groaned, unbuckling the front of his uniform, and untucking his shirt. He was wearing a white tank-top underneath.
         “That’s why you need to suck cock, dude. My boy practically pounces me when I come home from work, even when I ain’t had a shower.” Randall smirked proudly, pulling a duffel bag out of his locker and stuffing his boxers into it.
        “Heh, I’d sooner donate my dick to charity. I ain’t got nothing against you queers, but I ain’t putting no dick in my mouth.” Getson replied, shaking his head and making a face. “Even if Tracey has me by the nuts and won’t let go. At least I know when she goes into heat, I’ll get some pussy.” He unbuckled his belt and fly, and stepped out of his boots. His grey-soled socks came into view, damp with sweat.
        “Whatever, let your nuts explode then. I’ll be getting a nice slow blowjob when I get home.” Randall flashed his teeth and jostled his meat lewdly at the doberman.
        “Keep that shit up, man, and I’ll let you chase the punks by yourself next time.” Getson teased, as Randall headed for the shower. The doberman dropped his slacks and picked them up, now wearing nothing but a pair of grey boxer-briefs and his long socks. As he straightened up his stomach rumbled loudly, making him double slightly. Nausea gripped him momentarily. “Fuck the shower, I gotta eat,” he growled under his breath. He folded his uniform quickly and put it in his bag, grabbing his street clothes out of his locker. He pulled his shorts on, calling over his shoulder, “I’m out of here, Randy, I’m starving.”
        “See ya, dude!” he heard the mastiff call back and slid his feet into a pair of comfortable running shoes. He grabbed his bag and hurried out, his stomach still complaining. Outside it was still mostly dark, the sun just starting to color the edge of the eastern sky. The parking lot outside of the police station was mostly empty except for the cops that were just getting off duty. Getson made it to his truck and was reaching for his keys in his pocket when he heard the hammer of a pistol click.
        “Drop the bag. Don’t turn around.”
        Getson’s breath caught in his throat. Adrenaline hit his bloodstream in a tidal wave as his thoughts raced. He thought about his gun in his bag, he thought about the martial arts training he had, but in the end he knew he needed to wait his chance. He dropped his bag and lifted his paws up to either side of his head. He knew the gun-holder was behind him, and he looked into the glass of his driver’s side window, hoping he could see him. All he could make out was a gray hoodie and a ski mask. “I don’t want any trouble here. My wallet is in the bag and my keys are in my pocket. Take whatever you want.” he said in a steady voice, trying to sound neutral and unthreatening.
        “Take whatever I want, huh? What if what I want is right here?” the assailant grabbed Getson’s shoulder and spun him around. Before he could blink, Getson felt the muzzle of the gun shove hard up between his legs. He gasped, feeling the pistol dig into his balls inside his pants. He looked down, paws still up. He fought hard not to do anything drastic. “H-hey now, there’s no need for any violence.” He tried, then winced as the weapon dug a little deeper into his crotch.
        “Yeah, I figured all that cop bravado would go down the tubes if I put a gun at THIS head instead of the one on your shoulders, asshole.” the hooded figure sneered. Getson’s ears twitched. The voice was male, but it was definitely younger than he expected. Maybe early twenties. He didn’t have time to think about it, as he sensed more figures appearing around him. They came from behind him, from somewhere out of his peripheral vision. He didn’t dare turn his head to look. They were all wearing hoodies and ski masks. “We should put him in the van, Johnny, we’re too exposed.” one of them wearing a red hoodie said. He was holding a brown glass bottle and a cloth. The one in the grey hoodie with the gun turned around, snarling, “No names, dickhead!” He stepped back, keeping the gun pointed at Getson but no longer directly at his crotch. The doberman relaxed slightly, glad to have the gun away from his precious balls. The other figure stepped up, his demeanor slightly hesitant as he fumbled to take the cap off of the bottle. The acrid stench of chloroform hit Getson’s nose. “This isn’t necessary. You can have anything you want from me, my credit cards, my money, my car anything. Just let me go.” Getson tried again. He kept his face neutral and unthreatening, but inside he was ready to spring at any moment.
        That moment presented itself when the red hoodie stepped directly in front of him, blocking out the aim of the grey hoodie’s gun. He snapped his paws forward, grabbing the front of the hoodie and jerking the guy off balance. He moved a lot easier than he thought he would, confirming that these were just more hooligans. He pushed the red hoodie forward, sending him careening into the gun carrier. They fell in a heap. Two other assailants moved in, one holding a baseball bat, the other a crowbar. These two were larger and moved with more determination. Getson knelt quickly and grabbed his duffel bag, wrapping the straps around his paw and putting himself in a ready stance. The baseball bat swung at him, but he used the bag to block it. He saw the crowbar moving toward him, swung at his head, but he ducked it, swinging around and using the bag to hit the hooded guy wielding it. The guy stumbled and fell and Getson slammed his shoe into his back, kicking him onto his face. He whirled around, ready to fight, when he heard several older male voices yell, “FREEZE! POLICE!”
        Getson nearly groaned with relief, seeing Chief Rally, Randall and the two other Officers who were off-duty standing a short distance away, pistols drawn. The hooligans did freeze, the one with the gun quickly dropping it. He heard the baseball bat clatter to the ground, along with the sharp clang of the crowbar. “Cuff those punks.” Getson heard Rally order, keeping his own gun pointed at them as the three officers hurried forward. Randall was in street clothes, the other two officers were in their underwear. Randall was cuffing the punk with the crowbar, who was nearest to Getson. The mastiff looked over at Getson and smirked. “Chief saw you on the security feed, came running into the lockers and got us out here. You’re lucky he was paying attention. He said they were gonna shoot your nuts off.” Randall grinned wide. “Still feel so strongly about what we talked about?” he teased, pushing the punk up against Getson’s truck to frisk him alongside his buddies. Chief Rally had the red hoodie against the trunk, his ski-masked face pushed down to the metal. “Jesus, these kids are getting bolder and stupider by the day.” He commented, pulling the hoodie back and the ski-mask off. The face of a trembling dalmatian came into view, looking to be barely seventeen years old. Getson pulled his pistol out of his bag and covered the other officers as they marched the punks into the station to be booked.


        The sun was up by the time Getson got to walk back out to his truck. He had to be around to give his statement about what had happened, which of course was backed up by the video camera’s evidence. All of the hooligans were booked and locked up, their parents called. Getson had never seen such a pitiful looking bunch. Randall had walked out with him, the mastiff eating one of the donuts that had been left in the breakroom. “Can you believe those punks were part of the group that were at the drugstore? How badly fucked up are you that you’ll try and get revenge on a cop outside of his station?” he commented through a mouthful of stale apple fritter.
        “Pretty fucked up. I’m just glad we caught them.” Getson agreed, rubbing his crotch for emphasis. “The way that one with the gun was acting I was worried he was going to blow my balls off on accident, instead of on purpose.”
        “Heheh I keep telling you, Getson, you gotta start sucking cock. You’ll get your rocks off, instead of getting them BLOWN off.” Randall snickered.
        “I doubt having sweaty dick breath would have saved me tonight, Randall.” Getson grumbled, rolling his eyes.
        “Nah, probably not, but you’d at least have gotten off beforehand. Not strutting around with half-a-month of puppy-batter sloshing around in your stones cause the wife wants you to put a bun in her oven.” Randall chuckled, finishing off the apple fritter and wiping crumbs off his whiskers. “Lets go to IHOP, dude, I know you’re starving and I am too after all that excitement.”
        At the mention of food, Getson’s stomach did flip flops. “Yeah, lets do it.” He opened his truck door, and slid into the driver’s seat. “Hey, can I bum a ride with you there and back here? I’m low on gas and I’m low on cash to get more.” Randall asked.
        “Yeah, sure, whatever dude, just hurry the fuck up, I’m starving.” Getson nodded, gesturing impatiently with his paw. Randall walked around the truck and climbed into the passenger side.
        “I sure hope those little punks get their acts together, it’s sickening to see kids so young turning to--MMPH!” Getson choked in mid-sentence as a white cloth soaked with chloroform wrapped around his muzzle. He struggled, looking wide-eyed at Randall beside him, who had the half empty bottle of chloroform from the hooligans in his free paw, the other one pressing the chemical soaked cloth to Getson’s mouth and nose. Getson’s vision swam, his brain shutting down as the fumes did their work. Spiralling into darkness, Getson passed out staring into the grinning face of his co-worker. “Sorry, Getson, but you’ll thank me for this.” Randall murmured to himself as he slid the unconscious doberman over in the seat and got behind the wheel.
        Getson’s consciousness returned in small waves, following the pulsing in his temples and behind his eyes. A headache worse than any hangover throbbed inside his skull, gradually bringing the cop back to the waking world. His body felt heavy, like it was glued to whatever surface it was resting on. His chemical addled brain tried to figure out what had happened, but he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or awake yet. A sudden blast of cold water directly to his face shattered that groggy stupor. Getson coughed, sputtering and shaking his head. Blinking, the pounding behind his eyes intensifying as light hit his pupils. It blinded him, making him clench his eyelids shut once more. “W-what’s going on? Where am I?” he stammered hoarsely.
        “This is an intervention, Ralphy.” A familiar voice said nearby. The voice was familiar, but his brain had trouble placing it. Another blast of cold water hit his face and head as sharp as a punch. Getson gasped, the deluge washing away the last of his grogginess. He opened his eyes again and instantly knew he was in a basement. Concrete floors were stained with oil, metal shelves were lined with tools, and paint cans were stacked in one corner. All at once his brain remembered everything, including who was speaking to him now.
        “Randall! What the fuck is going on here?” He shouted, trying to stand up. He couldn’t. He looked down at himself and learned two things. He was handcuffed paws and feet to a wooden chair, and he was naked.
        “Like I said, Getson, this is an intervention. I’m going to teach you how to accept the truth about yourself.” Randall said, a smile tugging at his muzzle. Getson looked back up at the other cop, his long-time partner and best friend. “If this is some kind of prank, dude, not cool. Tracey is going to be PISSED that I’m not home yet. She had some baby shower to go to today and needed to borrow my truck. Let me up from here, dammit, where’s my cell?”
        “Tracey? Pfft, that stupid cunt is one of the biggest reasons why you’re sitting naked in my basement, Ralph.” Randall snickered, reaching down into a cooler near his feet and pulling out a can of beer. He picked up the empty, water speckled glass he had used to douse Getson with, and poured the beer into it.
        “Stupid cunt? Hey, Randall, in case you forgot, that’s my WIFE.” Getson growled, his head whipping around from looking for his clothes and glare at the mastiff. Randall sipped his beer and grinned. “Only because you can’t see the truth, Ralph. She suckered you into that marriage, and now she’s trying to sucker you into knocking her up. She’s trying to chain you down, dude, and you can’t see it.”
        “Randall, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, but you’re starting to piss me off. Let me out of the motherfucking chair before I have you arrested for unlawful detainment.” Getson snarled, anger glinting in his dark eyes like a polished gemstone.
        “Oh it’s not unlawful, Ralph, not at all. You WANT to be here. You just don’t know it yet.” Randall sat his beer down on the floor and walked a little closer to Getson, leaning down so that they were face to face. Getson kept up his snarl, and Randall kept right on smiling.
        “I want you to listen and listen good, Ralph Getson. You. Are. Gay.” Randall said slowly, poking Getson in the bare chest with each word. Getson threw his head back and laughed, but there was no mirth in it. “Gay? GAY?! This IS some kind of twisted prank. Fuck you, Randall, let me out of this chair. I’m NOT and never will be gay, no matter how BADLY you want to fuck around with me.”
        “Oh but you are, Ralph. You really are and you’ve just repressed it. You’ve shared a lot of stuff with me over the ten years we’ve been partners, and I’ve got an eye for these things.” Randall growled, straightening up. It was then that Getson noticed that Randall was naked too, except for a pair of white socks on his large feet. The doberman growled, “Do I need to remind you what “Rape” is, Randall?”
        Randall laughed, grabbing his beer and swigging down half of it. “Again,” he grunted, pointing a finger at Getson, “It’s not rape because you want to be here, Ralph. You just don’t know it yet. You’re so deceived by lies that you don’t even realize how gay you are. Fuck, dude, you’re gayer than ME. Let me tell you why.”
        The mastiff raised his paw, and with his other hand, began pushing his fingers down one by one. “Exhibit A: You only wear designer underwear. In 10 years on the Force, I’ve never seen you in anything less than Calvin Klein. Ever. You look at me, you look at Mitchell, both of us are gay. I wear Hanes, I wear Fruit of the Looms. Mitchell wears those cheap-ass fuckin’ white boxers. You, the “straight” dude, wear Calvin Klein, 2xist, Tommy Hilfiger, etc. etc.”
        Getson shook his head, laughing softly. “You really grasp at straws there, Randall. What underwear I wear is a choice of comfort, not an expression of my sexuality! Explain Tracey. If I’m gay, how could I be MARRIED?”
        “I’m getting to that, Ralph, but be patient. I have other things first.” Randall said, waving aside the comment impatiently. “Exhibit B: Your father was so homophobic that he wouldn’t even let you have male friends growing up. He was convinced that your horny teenage cock would end up getting sucked by a guy instead of a girl. And you know what? He was right. It would have.”
        “My father wasn’t homophobic, he just wanted me to stay on the straight and narrow and have a wife and kids!” Getson retorted, his face hard. “This is stupid, Randall, let me out of here. I’m going to be in SO much trouble when I get home.”
        “What are you, Ralph, Thirteen? Does Tracey take away your PS3 privileges when you’re ‘bad’ like she takes away your fuckin’ DICK?” Randall snorted, shaking his head. “That bitch is crazy. Look at what you’ve got dangling there between your legs, and think about it. Would ANY woman sanction getting to ride that MONSTER, unless she had an agenda?” Randall pointed between Getson’s legs so sharply that the doberman did look down at himself. Getson was not by any means, an ‘average’ male. His cock, which was currently draped over his left thigh, was 8 inches long soft. He was hung like a horse.
        “She wants kids, dude. She wants me to be fertile and she wants to be fertile too. Tracey loves sex as much as I do.” Getson protested, his brow furrowed.
        “Oh really? Last year at the Christmas party, you got drunk as a skunk. Wasted out of your mind, dude, and guess who was there to make sure you didn’t puke and pass out somewhere dangerous. Me. And do you know what you said to me in that drunken stupor? You told me that Tracey only has sex with you once a week.” Randall sloshed his beer around, cocking an eyebrow at Getson.
        “She’s busy a lot! She has a career.”
        “She’s a fucking receptionist, Ralph.” Randall snickered, rolling his eyes. “But that’s not the point. You said something else to me, that night. After revealing that Tracey only fucks you once a week, you also stated, ‘And that’s just fine with me. I hate having sex with Tracey.’” The mastiff finished his beer, and belched. “And that brings me to my last point. Tracey herself. You knew her three-and-a-half months before you popped the question. You know what else happened in those three-and-a-half months? Your dad moved in with you. Into YOUR house. With your Calvin Klein underwear, your Armani suits, and your granite countertops and solid oak hardwood floors. I don’t have to be psychic to hear the old bastard insinuating you’re a ‘fuckin’ queer’ all the time. So you popped the question to Tracey to prove him wrong, to make sure daddy was happy. And you might as well have dropped your boys there into the vice right on the fuckin’ altar, because it wasn’t much longer before she had you by your nuts and was happily twisting them off.”
        Randall paused, folding his arms. Getson was quiet in the chair, staring at the floor, so he continued. “But before she does twist your balls all the way off, Ralph, she had to get one last good fertile load of your puppy-batter out of them. You know why? Because she knows you’re gay too, Ralph. And she doesn’t want the gravy train to be derailed once you figure it out for yourself. She wants all the money you won hitting the lottery, and she wants you working and out of the house every night so she can fuck whoever she wants while your pup sits in daycare. Having a kid would tie you financially to her, forever.”
        Randall stopped talking then, the big mastiff waiting for a response from Getson. The doberman looked up, and met Randall’s gaze. That resolve, all of that utter defiance was cracked like a buckled wall, but it was still there. “I’m not gay, Randall. I’m not.” Getson said, though he seemed more intent on convincing himself, instead of his friend. “Let me go home to my wife.”
        “Nope. I thought this might take some hard work. So, no more ‘Mr. Nice Guy’, Ralph. It’s time to play hardball.” Randall walked over to a wall and pushed a button attached to an intercom. Getson looked around nervously as he heard a door open behind him and sensed others entering the room. He blinked as two more familiar males stepped into the room. Xander Mitchell, a large, powerfully built black bear and a cop whom Getson saw daily. And Police Chief Sam Rally. Both of them grinned wide at Getson, Rally wearing nothing but a pair of white briefs and some brown argyle socks. Mitchell was naked and a fat red ball gag hung from his right paw by its leather strap. “You want to do this the hard way? We’ll do it the hard way, Ralph.” Randall said, taking the ball gag from Mitchell and striding forward.
        “Randall, no, don’t do this--MMPH!” Getson started, but Randall was quick. As he was speaking, that gag was pushed into his muzzle and fastened into place so quickly Getson barely had time to blink. “You gotta learn when to keep your mouth shut, Ralph.” Randall snickered teasingly. “Like when a trio of your coworkers are going to stuff a ball gag in your mouth.”
        Stepping back, Randall pushed the button on the wall once more. “I wanted to go slow with you a little, Ralph, but we have one more player to add to this little game.” the mastiff chuckled, as the door behind Getson opened again. Mitchell, the black bear, grinned and let his tongue roll out lewdly, massaging his fat package openly. Chief Rally just smirked, watching the new comer walk toward them. Getson looked around, his eyes flickering nervously as the figure came into view. He stared at him, watching the tall great dane stride over to Randall. The dane was wearing a full set of clothing. A blue button-down shirt open over a white wifebeater, crisp black slacks and a gold chain around his neck.
        “Ralphy, meet my boy, Stuart. He’s the star dancer down at the club downtown. Ain’t he hot?” Randall growled, reaching down and groping the tall great dane as he pulled him into a kiss. He was taller than anyone else in the room, so the dane had to lean down. Getson  just stared. Randall pulled back after a moment and flashed a grin at Getson. “Stu here is going to put on a nice little private show for you, Ralph. Oh, and if you’re still so set on denying your sexuality, take a gander at your pecker there.” Randall added, pointing between Getson’s legs again. The doberman glanced downward and blushed brightly. His dick, which had started completely flaccid, had moved down his thigh. It was fatter, a little longer, veins starting to pop up in the shaft and the head was slightly darker. It was getting hard.
        “See there, Ralph? Can’t deny the truth. But we’re not going to let you off that easily, oh no. Adrenaline can do a lot for a cock. So we’re going to have a little fun. Stu, strut your stuff.” Randall said, stepping back and gesturing for Rally and Mitchell to do the same. Stuart stepped forward, grinning at Getson. “I think you like what you see here.” he said, his voice a deep velvety bass. He ran his paws down the front of his tank top, pulling it tight across his washboard abs. “Mmm makes me hot to strip for such a sexy guy like you. Great body, BIG cock, mmm how could you not be gay?” Stu murmured. Suddenly a soft pumping beat started to play, some hidden stereo beginning to play. Stuart moved his body, flexing and rocking with the throb of the music.
Getson stared, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. He pressed his tongue against the rubber ball in his mouth, feeling a string of drool run down his chin. His own pulse ran hot, spiced with stomach tingling arousal. His brain raced his eyes stared at Stuart stripping off his shirt, the well-muscled great dane moving smoothly with the beat. It felt so wrong staring at a guy taking his clothes off, but somewhere deep in his brain the reinforced walls of denial were crumbling. And pure lust was pouring through the cracks.
“Hehe I think we’re getting through to him.” Mitchell commented, the bear eagerly stroking his plump cock as he watched Stuart dance. Randall leaned against the wall, sedately rubbing his own hanging endowment. “We’re just getting started boys, you better go easy on your prick there, Mitch. I don’t want you popping early and quitting on me. We’ve got a job to do here.”
“Yeah yeah, I know what I’m doing.” Mitchell growled, slowing down just a little. Rally glanced over, rubbing the front of his briefs, which were starting to tent. “I don’t think he even realizes his cock is hard.” he commented, pointing at Getson. Sure enough the doberman’s massive shaft was standing up between his legs, twitching in place. It was massive, even bigger hard than it was soft.
“Why don’t you go remind him, Chief, while he watches Stu. But don’t make him cum.” Randall growled, eyeing that massive cock between Getson’s thighs. “Damn...I knew he was big but, good fuck, I never knew he was THAT big...”
Rally walked over to the doberman, his soft argyle dress socks padding on the smooth concrete floor. He stood beside Getson, the doberman’s eyes fixed on Stuart, who was in the middle of opening up his pants slowly. He spread the flaps of his fly, flashing his underwear clad bulge, then flipped them closed again. He zipped up, but left his button and belt undone so that his pants sagged, showing off the waistband of his underwear. Rally grinned at the teasing antics and knelt before Getson.
The doberman stared at the show being put on before him, his heart racing. His blood was on fire, every muscle in his body tensed like a spring. Sweat rolled down his muzzle. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, but he could hear his father inside his brain. “You faggot!” He shouted. A mixture of shame and, much to Getson’s surprise, pride sprouted in the doberman’s stomach. His empty stomach did flip flops as arousal, shame and pride crashed together into a ball of emotion inside him. Suddenly, his inner thoughts shattered as pleasure ran down his cock like a lightning bolt. He snapped his eyes away from Stuart’s show for a bare second, looking down to see that Rally had started licking the head of his cock with long slow strokes. Getson groaned. He groaned and his toes curled against the concrete, his eyes rolling.
Pleasure shot down his dick from his sensitive knob and went straight to his balls. For two-weeks his fat nuts had held their payload, and now they churned, burning in his sac. Getson tossed his head back, breathing hard through his nose. His cock was so hard it hurt, veins standing out along his shaft like they were ready to burst. The pleasure was so intense that he rocked the chair, his dick flexing away from Rally’s teasing tongue. He couldn’t take it, the licking was frying synapses in his brain causing static to fill his vision. His denied genitals were on overdrive, the tabooness of seeing a guy strip and having a guy licking his penis combined with two weeks of celibacy was too much.
“Look, Ralph. Look!” Randall’s voice growled in Getson’s ear, breaking the reverie that was blinding the doberman. Getson opened his eyes, and found himself staring at Stuart in his underwear. The big blue dane was massaging his bulge, a hefty outline of cock and balls squeezed in his large fingers. Getson breathed hard, eyes locked on that bulging cloth. “Do you recognize those brief boxers, Ralph?” Randall asked, his head right alongside the doberman’s. Getson looked more intently at the underwear, and then blushed. They were his own grey boxer briefs, the ones he had worn all last night on his beat. Then Getson writhed, as Rally began to suck on his cock properly. He squirmed in the chair, the soft, seemingly unending, muzzle curling around his turgid, tortured flesh. His balls practically vibrated as Rally’s paws gently cupped and massaged them. More drool bubbled out around the ball gag.
“Take ‘em off, Stu, let’s let Ralph get an eyeful of what he really wants.” Randall practically purred. Stuart grinned and slipped his paws away from his bulge, before teasing the underwear down and off. His cock, fat and heavy, flopped down in front of his dangling nuts. Almost as big as Getson’s, but not quite. Getson gaped as he watched the dane lift his sweat soaked, musky brief boxers to his muzzle and breathed deep. The dane groaned and his cock rose all by itself, jutting straight up and down against his abs. “Oh, fuck me! You smell so damn good.” Stuart growled, his dick twitching. Getson watched a bead of precum roll down the dane’s bulbous knob.
Rally meanwhile kept up his work, sucking on as much of that massive shaft as he could, his paws massaging balls and cock-root alternately. He loved the throbbing of the huge dick in his muzzle, Getson’s penis hard as a steel bar and starting to leak. His crotch was musky, tinged with the sweat from the night before. The scent was intoxicating, as Getson soon found out. Stuart stepped close and took Getson’s own brief boxers, and pressed them over the doberman’s trembling, sweaty muzzle. The mixture of scents, both his own, and Stuart’s was a heady concoction. Getson moaned weakly, his voice trembling as his eyes rolled in his head.
“Rally, let go.” Randall ordered, and Rally pulled off, leaving that huge dick to twitch and throb in open empty air. Getson squirmed, panting, his face distorted in confusion. “Did you think you were going to get off so easily, Ralph? You’ve waited two weeks to unload those balls. I want every last drop in them.” Randall teased, taking the underwear off of Getson’s muzzle and giving them a whiff of his own. His cock twitched, wider than it was long, a hefty beercan of a cock that jutted out under the mastiff’s budding beer-gut. It was just a few inches away from Getson’s ball-gagged muzzle. “If you wanna cum, you’ve gotta get all four of us off first.”
The doberman whimpered around the ball-gag, looking down at his rigid shaft. It was bouncing with his heartbeat, engorged and throbbing. Precum drooled out of the gaping slit, trickling down across the underside of his cock. He groaned; just that small amount of stimulation was enough to make his penis tremble and his legs shake. Then he felt the ball-gag loosen and come free, Randall sliding it out of his mouth. “However, Ralph, if you truly believe that you are straight and you are happy and that you want to go home to Tracey, then say so right now. If you really want to go, we’ll let you. But if you believe us, that you know deep down what I’ve been saying is the truth...then suck my cock...” Randall said as he stood between Getson’s spread legs. Getson looked down, the mastiff’s wide cock only an inch or two from his lips. He eyed it, the tawny shade of the shaft, the bright purple of the large head. The way it twitched and flexed, and the way Randall’s large, tight nuts wobbled as he adjusted his stance. He stared at the cock he’d seen a hundred times, but never so close or so hard, like it was the first penis he’d ever seen. Then Getson looked up at Randall, slowly smirked and growled, “You just had to find a way to give me sweaty dick breath, didn’t you?” before opening wide and slurping down Randall’s sausage like there was no tomorrow.
“Oh fuck, yeah, that’s it....shit you’re a goddamn natural, Ralph!” Randall barked, his paws flying to the doberman’s head as he bobbed between his legs. “Whoa now, slow down, it ain’t a race. Gah, watch the teeth! There you go, just like that....Ooooh fuck that’s niiiiiice!” Getson rolled his tongue against the salty shaft in his mouth, the flavor burning across his tongue like a searing heat. He was blushing the hardest he ever had before, and deep down, his stomach still churned with a mixture of shame and embarrassment. But he knew that his friend was right, and he was determined to reward him for that.
The doberman grunted as he felt Randall’s nuts bumping his chin, the chubby mastiff’s hips starting to buck in time with his bobbing. “Don’t forget to breathe now, Ralphy. It ain’t goin’ nowhere, just enjoy it. Ooh damn...somebody let his paws loose, I want him to play with my balls.” Getson’s ears flicked, and he felt the handcuffs on his wrists released. He reached up, keeping his rhythm as he cupped the mastiff’s furry scrotum in his palm. He was surprised at the weight of the other dog’s testicles, the hefty pouch weighing against his fingers. It was warm and tight, a mixture of natural tightness and arousal, the skin sliding over the smooth surfaces of the orbs within. Touching Randall’s balls made him aware of the ache in his own pair once more, the doberman groaning. Someone took it as a signal and grabbed his cock again, stroking it steadily as he sucked Randall off.
Suddenly, there was another cock alongside Randall’s, this one more slender, but still girthy and longer. Getson looked up, seeing Stu grinning down at him. Getson popped his mouth off of Randall’s shaft, and licked his lips. He reached over and pulled Stu in close by his cock and pressed his nose into the great dane’s crotch, just above his hard dick. He breathed in deeply, drinking the dane’s musk thirstily. Stu grunted, feeling his cock rubbing against the smooth black fur of the doberman’s neck and cheek. Getson pulled back, his tongue hanging out after breathing in the musk. He licked Stu’s cock from base to tip, and pushed it against his flat stomach with his nose, kissing and nibbling at the underside of the torpedo shaped head. Stu curled his toes, his fingers playing with the doberman’s ears. Getson resumed sucking, bobbing his head along the great dane’s shaft. He gagged more on Stu’s, the dane’s longer dick sliding toward the back of his throat, and its upward curve rubbing against the roof of doberman’s mouth. He kept it up though, no matter how his eyes watered or his throat spasmed. He wanted to please them. Years of tension melted away from the big doberman steadily, all the lies he’d told himself, all the deceit he’d endured. All of it trickling away as he worked to suck off the two dogs in front of him.
After a long while of playing by ear, Getson finally had both of the two dogs panting and clenching, their muscles outlined in sweaty fur. “Ooh fuck he’s a fast learner.....I’m about ready to blow!” Stu panted, watched as Getson licked Randall’s hefty balls.
“Shit, tell me about it, Stu...I’m gonna bust any minute now.” Randall grunted. Meanwhile, Getson’s own cock was twitching on the edge of orgasm, Rally’s skilled paws teasing it right up to the point of no return. The doberman was sweating and shaking, the teasing touches and brushes across his cock making it feel like it was on fire. He squirmed in his seat, only his feet cuffed in now. He wrapped his mouth back around Randall’s cock and began strongly sucking at it, trying to pull the mastiff over the edge. It worked perfectly.
“Oh god, oh shit! Gahhhhhhh! I’m cumming!” The big mastiff shouted, grabbing Getson’s ears. The doberman braced himself, but he was unprepared for the massive glob of semen that squirted out against the roof of his mouth. He balked, the heat and pungent saltiness causing him to gag as more of the gooey fluid spurted out of Randall’s cock. He bucked, white gobs of cum escaping his muzzle to drip down his neck and chin as Randall held on, the doberman’s gagging only egging him on further. Randall jerked with every spurt that left his wide cock, his body convulsing and his toes curling on the concrete inside his socks. He damn near fainted after he finished, releasing Getson from his death grip and staring down at his still hard, cum and saliva smeared cock. Getson worked to swallow the last mouthful, but he barely had time to get it down before another hot rope of white splattered across his muzzle. Stu, having watched his boyfriend get off so hard, couldn’t hold his own load anymore. He came without touching his cock, his body spasming as his pecker started fountaining cum all over the doberman’s muzzle and forehead.
Getson took the facial stoically, feeling the other male’s jizz landing over his face and neck, tasting Randall’s own seed on his tongue. The scent of semen and male musk was all the doberman could smell.
 “You guys get outta the way, it’s my turn!” Getson heard Mitchell growl, and when he looked up again he found himself face to face with another thick fleshy hard-on. It was slightly longer than Randall’s but shorter than Stu’s and had a head on it like a boxing-glove. It was leaking precum steadily, the large low-hanging balls underneath it already streaked with the slippery fluid. “C’mon, rookie, if you wanna get your rocks off, you gotta blow me.” Mitchell goaded, the big hairy black bear thrusting his cock forward so it poked Getson’s nose insistently. The doberman licked a melting blob of Stuart’s cum off of his cheek, grimacing slightly. The flavor was new, and slightly off-putting, but Getson liked it anyway. His stomach twirled again as he realized there was nothing in it now but Randall’s cum. And then a tingle ran through him, a buzz of warm orgasm so close that he could taste it on his tongue. It was there like the brush of a feather and then gone. He panted, looking down. Rally grinned up at him. “Heheh almost went too far that time. I’m gonna have to lay off your knob awhile. Somebody is getting close!” the fox teased, still wearing his briefs, which were sorely tented out and soaked with a dark wet spot now. Getson groaned frustratedly. He wanted to cum so badly, his cock looked ready to burst and his balls were churning in his scrotum. Eager for his own orgasm, he immediately went down on Mitchell with a soft growl.
“Oooh yeah, ooooh fuck....yeah yeah that’s goooooood!” The bear panted, grunting and growling as the doberman sucked his cock. “Ow, jeez watch your teeth, Cujo, it’s a cock not a Nylabone.” Getson was getting better but he was still a novice at sucking cock. He didn’t let that deter him though. He quickly grabbed the bear’s heavy balls and rolled them in his palm, and in no time had the big bear grunting and growling his pleasure once more. Rally was teasing him still, stroking and licking his cock, causing the doberman’s head to spin at times as orgasm neared and then faded off again. His entire body was as tight and as tense as a bowstring, his focus entirely on the cock in his mouth and his own dick between his legs.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, gonna blow, here it comes! FUCK!” Mitchell shouted, throwing his head back. He grabbed the back of Getson’s head and started wildly thrusting, fucking the amateur doberman’s muzzle. Getson gagged, his eyes bugging out, as the bear pumped his tangy load into his muzzle and fucked it down his throat. He felt the semen backing up in his throat, managing to get above his soft palette into his nose. He tried to swallow it as much as he could, as the bear came furiously, holding Getson down on his cock now.
“Hey, Mitch, let him breathe man! You’re drowning him.” Randall barked, pulling the bear back. One last jet of semen launched from the bulbous cockhead of the bear and splattered across Getson’s muzzle. The doberman gagged and coughed, gasping as he cleared his airway. He trembled his eyes watering, and his heart pounding. The raw pungent flavor the bear’s cum was the strongest yet. It was bitter and metallic. Getson moaned. His cock and never been so hard before.
Police Chief Rally stood up, leaving Getson’s cock alone to bob in the air between his legs. The fox pulled his precum stained briefs down to his knees, his cock springing up. It was smaller, more average sized but still a handsome member. “Stroke it off, rookie. You’ve gagged on enough cum today. Let’s see how you work those paws.” the fox ordered. Getson reached up, curling one paw around the fox’s slick penis. He started to stroke, slowly at first. It felt so different from his own cock, but at the same time felt similar. He cupped the Chief’s nuts in his other paw, blushing lightly as he realized he was handjobbing his boss. He stroked a little faster, the fox groaning and rolling his head on his neck. “Mmmm yeah, like that. Squeeze it.” he purred, and Getson did, squeezing the fox’s dick on each stroke. Rally’s toes curled in his socks, spreading and then clenching. He hunched over, a ripple passing through his form, and then he barked. His cock twitched and began squirting thin lines of watery jizz out onto Getson’s chest and stroking paw. Getson watched his boss blowing his wad, his nose twitching at the scent of the fox’s semen. It all smelled different, and the same. When Rally was done, Getson licked his paw. The vulpine’s semen was sweeter, and more mild. Pleasant.
Now Getson looked up at the row of four satisfied males in front of him, cocks flagging but still standing, semen dripping from cockheads and from the doberman’s muzzle and neck. Sweaty balls dangled loose and sated. Except for one hefty, churning pair. Getson’s own heavy family jewels.
“Well now, what do you think, guys? Does Officer Getson here deserve to get off?” Chief Rally asked teasingly, pulling his briefs up over his semi-erection.
“Hmmmm...I’d say he needs to practice a little more, but I think he deserves an orgasm. He’s nuts might pop if we don’t get him off, anyway!” Mitchell teased, the big bear crossing his arms. Randall grinned toothily, the big mastiff kneeling down in front of the doberman. “Then you all better lend a hand. With a cock this big I’m gonna need some help!”
The four of them knelt on either side of Getson. Randall, Stu and Mitchell all wrapped a paw around the doberman’s cock, Rally grabbing Getson’s aching testicles. “Everybody ready?” Randall asked, to which he received unanimous nods. “Alright, get this doberman off!”
They all started pumping the big cop’s cock in unison, pumping his long shaft with equal rhythm as Rally fondled and rolled the big dog’s balls around in his paws. Getson squirmed in the chair, panting and thrusting against the stroking paws. He felt his blood rising, feeling the pleasure starting to build up once more after so much teasing and denial. He started to huff, his brain short-circuiting again under so much pleasure. He screwed his eyes tightly closed as the four other males jerked him off, the doberman’s hips bucking. His dick pulsed, throbbing furiously under their pumping fingers and paws, his nuts bulging in Rally’s grip. It was all too much. After all that teasing and stimulation, the doberman couldn’t take anymore at last. He threw his head back, his body caught up in a rictus of ecstasy and he thrust his cock toward the sky and howled at the top of his lungs. The door behind him shook on its hinges as Getson’s cock bulged, the underside swelling out as the river of cum poured through his urethra. It finally burst from the tip of his cock, a long cable of yellow cum that splashed down on the doberman’s heaving chest from neck to navel and stayed connected to his cockhead. Another huge gush and another followed, these shooting over his head to mark his face, and the concrete behind him. His testicles felt like they were turning inside out, the yellow, long pent up semen fountaining out of him in steady streams that went on for at least a minute.
Finally, the torrent of cum slowed to a stop, the doberman’s huge dick belching out small blobs, but no longer huge ropes. He relaxed, his body slumping backwards into the chair, exhausted. Vaguely, Getson felt his paws released from the chair and he was lowered to the floor. He felt warm breath on his ear and a pat on his shoulder. “Rest up, buddy. Round two is in an hour.”
Getson’s eyes snapped open, and he looked up just in time to see Randall and the others leave the basement, laughing all the way. The cop curled up on the floor, stinking of semen, sweat and male musk. And he was happy.
“By the way,” he heard Randall call from the door, just as he was about to fall asleep, “Don’t worry about telling Tracey. We got the whole thing on video! Hahahaha!”", "pools_count": 0, "title": "Remedy for Denial", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "image/png", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "t", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "1542" }