The stage was wrapped in darkness, except for a single column of light that shone down on Biggs Rocker. The doberman stripper was dressed in a white button down shirt that was open, exposing the black and tan of his chest. Sweat glistened in the light, the white cotton nearly glowing under the spotlight. Suspenders hung loose at the stripper’s hips, his pinstriped pants unbuttoned but not unzipped. He was leaning against the stripper pole like a gangster against a street-light, a fedora pulled low over his eyes. Music started, like the slow throb of a heart beat. 
	
Heinrich sat in the audience and stared, gripping the edges of his seat, as the doberman started to move. Almost imperceptibly at first, but gaining momentum slowly, Biggs’ hips started to rock. He rolled them with the smooth regularity of a calm sea, making those pinstriped pants sag a little lower with every movement. An extra beat began to thump into the music, and the doberman’s feet joined the dance. He pushed away from the pole, stretching one arm toward the ceiling, arching his back. His other arm reached up and joined the first, pulling both down behind his head in a sensual arc that caused the shirt to spread. More of those carved abs were put on display, the shirt coming untucked from his loosened pants. The audience gasped, a collective intake of breath that Heinrich mimicked. The shepherd’s heart pounded against his ribs, eyes locked on the doberman on the stage. The heat in the Grab Bag was incredible, making him sweat profusely. He trembled, his cock straining in his pants. 
	
Biggs ran his paws down his body, grabbing the edges of his shirt and pulling them wide. That finely chiseled chest heaved, sweaty pecs glittering under the lights. His short fur gleamed sleekly as he flexed his body, his muscles rippling smoothly under that supple fur. He turned around slowly, still rocking his hips to the beat of the music hypnotically. Those pants slipped lower, exposing the pair of purple posing briefs he wore underneath. He let them slide, until they ran down his legs like water and pooled at his feet. He reached up and grabbed his fedora and skillfully let it roll down his neck and shoulder. When it reached his bicep, he smoothly flexed, sending the hat into the air. The audience stared at the hat as it flipped into the air, turning lazily. Biggs spun around, and as every eye in the audience snapped down to see the doberman’s massive bulge, the hat fell right onto it. It hung there, the flesh underneath it big enough to hold it up. Biggs then popped his hips sharply, flexing more than just his hips in order to send the hat flipping back up to land on his head. And there it was. Like a python wrapped in purple plastic, that huge cock lay in those briefs fat heavy and half-erect. It curled around the doberman’s hip, just under the waistband, the stripper’s hefty balls tucked tightly under its girth. 

Heinrich watched as Biggs strutted forward on the stage, swinging his body so his bulge swung with the motion. He pumped steadily with the music, mimicking sex with his paws behind his head. He slowly stalked down the stage stairs, those hazel eyes locked on Heinrich’s own trembling amber orbs. It was then that Heinrich realized that he was alone in the audience, every chair but his own empty. He blushed, gasping as Biggs strolled toward him, still dancing his best. His eyes traveled down that body moving toward him, drawn to that mound of flesh inside the doberman’s purple briefs. “You know you like what you see, Heinrich. Don’t deny it.” Biggs growled smoothly. Suddenly the doberman was so close that Heinrich could smell him. He smelled the sweat, fresh and sharp. He smelled the warm male flesh under the sweaty fur. He smelled the natural musk that clung to the doberman’s ample loins. Sitting as he was, the stripper’s cock and balls were nearly eye-level with him. Biggs’s underwear had disappeared. Twelve inches of meaty doberman cock hung in front of Heinrich like a salami in a butcher shop. It was so big. Heinrich’s mouth watered with desire. He glanced up and met Biggs’ eyes, the doberman smiling down at him. “Don’t fight it, Heinrich. It’s all yours if you want it.” 

The shepherd started to say so many things, things that never left his lips. Instead, all that came out was a guttural grunt as his body betrayed him and he came hard into his jeans. Everything else faded away in a swirl of color and scent, everything except the sensation of cum gushing across Heinrich’s chest and stomach. The shepherd opened his eyes and sat up, panting as his cock finished squirting. The wet dream faded away with Heinrich’s orgasm, leaving the shepherd feeling drained and empty, and not in the good way. Without the pleasure of spontaneous orgasm, there was nothing left to drive away the screaming voice of his mother and the burning anguish that that shrill screech brought. He buried his head in his paws, trying to drown the feelings of guilt and shame that plagued him with the techniques his therapist had taught him. He told himself over and over that his attraction was normal, that his sexual behavior was not dirty, but it was so difficult to shake off years of oppression and shame. 

Sighing, Heinrich stood up carefully so as not to get any semen on his sheets or blanket. It was still very early; his alarm clock hadn’t even gone off yet. It flashed ‘5:37am’ at him from his nightstand in red digital numbers. “Shit.” Heinrich breathed out, earlier than he wanted to get up, but not so early as to allow him to go back to sleep before his alarm went off. He turned it off with a flick of his paw, grabbing a sock from the floor beside his bed. He wiped at the white ropes on his chest and stomach, gluey gobs of jizz clinging to the hairs. The bleachy odor hit his nostrils powerfully, making him grimace. He flung the sock across the room into the basket of dirty clothes and headed for the bathroom, his still mostly erected cock leading the way. His apartment was cold, the autumn chilliness making him shiver as it coursed over the hot flesh of his exposed member. He rubbed his arms, cold for more than just the temperature. 

The bathroom was even colder, but Heinrich quickly turned on the shower and soon hot steam was pouring into the room. He pissed while the water warmed up, his erection making it harder than usual. As he pissed, his mind went back to the dream about Biggs. It was still so fresh in his mind that as he thought about it, the smell of the doberman’s sweat and body tingled in his nose almost as strongly as if the stripper was in the room with him. He blushed, his muzzle suddenly feeling dry as his stomach tingled. He had always been able to control his libido with an iron fist, but Biggs’ drove his sex drive wild. The mere thought of the doberman made Heinrich’s heart flutter in his chest, not to mention sent his cock slapping against his stomach. It felt good in a way, but it caused Heinrich to cringe hard in guilt, crushing the fond mental images with a tidal wave of shame. The shepherd got under the water spray, the steaming jets pounding down on his exposed cock making him gasp. Pleasure coursed through his groin, his balls tingling. “Dammit. I can’t...god, why can’t I get over this!” Heinrich snarled, pounding his fist against the fiberglass wall of the shower. Whether he meant his arousal for Biggs, or his shame from his upbringing, he wasn’t entirely sure. Regardless, Heinrich’s paw found the soap, and then found his cock. He thought about the dream. The way the doberman danced, the way he moved so smoothly. He thought about last night at the Grab Bag, when he had caught Biggs easing his erection after the show. He remembered how his cock had surged, how it fired those cannon-blasts of cum onto his neck and chest. He moaned and chewed his lip, his paw pumping his cock so fast it was a blur of fur and suds on the hot flesh. It only took a full minute before Heinrich’s balls jumped, and he grunted loudly, sending another load of pungent dog-spunk swirling down the drain. He shivered, the orgasm leaving his nerves tingling under the spray of hot water, his legs weak. Heinrich sighed heavily, this time more in pleasure, than in sadness. His cock sagged, sated, and softened. He washed it quickly before it retreated into its sheath and finished his shower. In the back of his mind, he still felt that sickening pull of shame and guilt, but for the most part he felt happier, definitely satisfied for the moment. His stomach growled as he dried off. Breakfast time. 

-----------

At 6am, Heinrich pulled into a Denny’s parking lot. The shepherd got out of his car, pulling his hoodie closer against his body as a gust of cold autumn wind blew up. He was wearing jeans and a green t-shirt under the navy blue hoodie, but it was still cold. Winter was coming. He walked into the restaurant, the sudden blast of hot air from the central heat and the kitchen combined feeling great after the cold wind. He was flicking through the plastic menu when he felt his cell-phone buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out, flipping it open to see a text message from Steven, the great dane. “R U Ok?” it asked, punctuated with a ‘ :( ‘. Heinrich quickly tapped back “yes”, wondering if Biggs had told any of his buddies about their encounter last night. He knew Roach would have told them about his brief suspension. Thinking about last night’s embarrassing fiasco was painful, so he tried to put his mind on other things, like the waitress as she walked up to take his order. His phone buzzed again on the table as he placed his order. When the waitress was gone, he picked it up, expecting it to be Steven’s reply. It wasn’t. Instead it was a voicemail from a nameless number, one not in his contact list. Curious, he answered it, and then froze when the voice came over the phone. 
	“Hey, this is Biggs. I got your number from Cyrus last night. I’m sorry. I understand if you hate me. I was really out of line kissing you like that. I’d like to make it up to you this afternoon, lunch maybe? I understand if not, but...hey, here’s hoping, ok? Later.” 
	Heinrich felt ready to throw up, and probably would have if his stomach hadn’t been empty. Lunch? With Biggs...? Could he really do that? Excitement poured into his blood making his stomach tighten and tingle. It was tempered with anxiety, however. That nagging guilt, and self-loathing curled around his excitement like a constricting anaconda and squeezed it until all that was left was nerves and fear. What if his mother found out? What would she do if she knew he was a dating a stripper? Worse, what would she do if she found out he WAS a stripper himself? By the time the waitress sat down his plate, Heinrich’s good mood had all but evaporated along with his appetite. He felt like a teenager who had lied to his parents and was on the verge of getting caught, waiting for the hammer to fall. 
	
	Heinrich despondently chased a piece of sausage around plate with his fork, only the need to eat forcing him to pick at the food. He didn’t taste it. His mind was too occupied with other things. When he heard the waitress’s voice, he jumped, startled at the sudden address. She had brought him another cup of coffee. She was a golden retriever, older with kind eyes. 
	“Honey, I know it’s not any of my business, but I just gotta butt in. Five minutes ago when your phone ran, you looked like you had just won the lottery. Now you look like you’re sentenced to die. What’s wrong, sugar?” she asked him, sitting the mug down next to his half-empty plate. 
	“Uh...it’s...er...” Heinrich stammered, blushing. He dropped his fork from nerveless fingers, and it clattered on the table top loudly. 
	“Relationship problems, huh? Don’t worry, Honey, I been around long enough to know these things when I see them. Now you probably don’t want to hear my two-cents, but I’m gonna give ‘em to you anyway, ok? If you ain’t happy with what you have now, and you have a chance to get happy, then take it. I don’t care if it means you gotta jump off a cliff without a parachute to get it, you do it. Because there ain’t nothing worse than living your life unhappy, knowing you had a chance to change it, and didn’t.” She patted Heinrich on the shoulder in a motherly way and smiled before she walked away. 

	Heinrich sat staring at his food for a long time after that. Deep down, he knew what the waitress had said made sense, and he was wrestling with years of brainwashing and confidence issues. Fear still reared its ugly head, but hopefulness was fighting it back. He slowly pulled up Biggs’ unnamed number in his phone and stared at it, one button push away from dialing. What was he doing? How could he be so stupid, there’s no way someone like Biggs could be truly interested in him! He just wanted to apologize and get it off his conscience, it’s not like he wants to date, right?” Heinrich thought to himself, agonizing over the decision. The waitress was nice, but she really didn’t know what she was talking about. His therapist had told him to go slow, to take his relearning of behavior gradually-’beep’. Heinrich jumped. Lost in his thoughts, he had tensed his paw just enough that the claw of his thumb had pressed “send”. Biggs’s number was ringing. Heinrich panicked, his mind racing as his body battled his instinct to immediately push ‘end’. The phone rang once, twice. Heinrich chewed his lip. His mind screamed at him ‘end the call, end the call before it’s too late!’, but something deep down kept his finger from moving. Then, distantly he heard the voice from the phone in his paw. 
	“Hello? Hello? Heinrich?” the doberman repeated curiously, obviously wondering what he was met with silence. Finally, Heinrich took a deep breath and put the phone to his ear. 
	“H-Hello?” 
	“Hey! I was hoping you were still there. My phone gets terrible reception sometimes. Did you get my message?” 
	“Y-yeah...I did.” 
	“Awesome. Well? You want to grab some grub with me this afternoon? I know a great place downtown. I want to make it up to you, about last night...” 
	“Uh...I...” Heinrich paused, the words sticking in his throat a bit. ‘Say ‘no’, say it! Put this craziness behind you!’ his brain was screaming. He swallowed. “Sure. Sure, I’d like that a lot.” he said as steadily as he could. 
	“Great! How about I pick you up at ‘The Grab Bag’ around one-thirty?” 
	“Uh...I don’t...er....maybe you should just tell me where the place is and I’ll meet you there?” Heinrich stammered. He didn’t want to get caught by Roach at work after hours, especially since he was suspended. He also was incredibly nervous of the idea of being in the car alone with Biggs. 
	“Oh, sure...that works too.” Biggs sounded a little disappointed, and Heinrich winced. He listened as Biggs gave him directions, but his mind was already looking forward to seeing him again. 
	“Ok, see you around one-thirty then. Thanks for letting me buy you lunch, Heinrich. I really wanted to show you I’m sorry.” Biggs said, his voice taking on an awkwardness. Heinrich could practically hear the dobie rubbing the back of his neck nervously. 
	“You don’t have to be sorry.” Heinrich said quietly. “See you at one-thirty.” they hung up after that. Heinrich looked at his plate of cold food and cup of cold coffee as the waitress brought his check. She smiled, looking at him over the top of her glasses, her eyes seeing far more than the german shepherd realized. “Good job, honey.” She said and walked away.