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"submission_right_thumb_medium_x": "120", "submission_right_thumb_medium_y": "98" } ], "description": "Title is a placeholder.\n\nNot even close to being finished, a story I developed when I was younger finally given form. Just hope I can keep some consistency to my actually writing it. Sex will occur, though there's none of that [b]yet[/b].", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Title is a placeholder.

Not even close to being finished, a story I developed when I was younger finally given form. Just hope I can keep some consistency to my actually writing it. Sex will occur, though there's none of that yet.", "writing": "A warm day in the quiet suburbs encourages the wolf out of his abode, home alone in the summers as his father works an hour away in the city. It’s a safe community, where doors are often left unlocked and trust blooms among the citizens; a borrowed cup of milk lifestyle. He leaps onto the trampoline and starts to jump up and down, getting higher with each bounce. As he performs a front-flip, a moment of mid-air panic occurs and his claws extend, shredding the rubber when he lands. A howl escaped when the hole engulfs him and he hits the grass with an “oomph”.\n\nAnother boy peeks over their shared back fence, covered in sand and dirt from working in his vegetable patch. The fence is made of wooden slats with smoothed down ends, and the horizontal beams which connect them together allow him to look over when he stands on them and subsequently climbs over. “Are you okay?” he asks, tipping the trampoline onto its side and approaching the clumsy wolf with a paw extended.\n\nThrough gritted teeth the boy responds, “I-I’ll be fine.” He graciously accepts the help of being pulled back to his feet, eyes watering as his tail remains limp and sharp pains surge through it. “Thank you,” he speaks softly while carefully making his way to the back steps.\n\n“You’re Tyler, right?” the trespasser inquires, following the wounded pup inside.\n\nLaying on his belly across the three-seated couch he rolls his eyes. “And let me guess you’re sorry?” he sarcastically answers, rubbing his head against one of the soft silken pillows.\n\n“No, I’m Sam,” he jokes while making himself comfortable on the armrest beside the bare feet. The pink pads sport some spots of black from the rubber cut loose by his claws. “What time will your dad be home?” Sam asks.\n\nTyler kicks at his fellow canine and drives him off the side of the couch. Having grown accustomed to the sensitive tones surrounding him for so long, the confusion and relief of being treated so ordinarily warp into vitriol, “Soon so get out of my house now.”\n\n“Okay,” he replies and with a snap and point of his fingers Sam signals his goodbye. Retracing his footsteps out the back door with a shrug, a look of realization dawns; the leverage used to climb over isn’t present this side of the fence. Standing there with a look of bemusement the boy walks to the back-end of the house and with a running start, leaps at the fence. Sam scrambles and lands head over heels on the grass, looking around nervous and embarrassed by his less than graceful acrobatics. The boy resumes his holidaying duties, pulling weeds from the vegetable garden.\n\nIdly watching television on the couch a scowl crosses Tyler’s face as the show fades out to an advertisement. The calming jingle encourages a set of bared fangs before he shuts off the television, his black nose twitching with rage. “Bunch of faggots,” he cusses.\n\nThe front door swings open and crashes against the wall behind it, his father stepping inside with a guilty look. “Crap crap crap,” he says, yanking the door to him to inspect where the handle impacted. “Phew.” His body relaxes, and he tosses a duffel bag to the left of the doorway. “Hey kiddo,” he says, tone shifting an octave higher when he walks towards the couch and conspicuously black TV. “You have a room you can watch porn in you know.” The man ruffles the black fur atop his son’s head, scratching behind the downed ears.\n\n“Ha ha,” Tyler unenthusiastically laughs and bats away the courteous paw. “That fucking ad was on.”\n\nThe previous joviality fades quickly to a sombre tone upon realizing his mistake. He hangs the thin black blazer and green tie on hooks beside the door and scratches his head. Turning it back on, the jingle starts to trail off leaving the foundation name for a moment: Canine Cancer Council. “He’d want you to be happy.” He bites his lip to suppress the welling tears, leaning down and embracing the boy.\n\nNuzzling against the older man’s cheek, the grey fur mixes with his own black coating. The pair share few similarities beyond facial structure; Tyler’s eyes sapphire in contrast to the emeralds embedded in the grey man’s face. Through his own fur there are small streaks of brown, prominent most atop his head, another feature not shared by the elder. “Will it ever stop?”\n\n“I’ll tell you when it does,” he answers and squeezes much tighter when tears burst forth.\n\n####\n\n“What’d you get up to today bud?”\n\nSam reclines in his chair and crosses one leg over the other. The bloody steak in front of him remains untouched beyond a few prods with the knife. “Slept, made lunch, fixed the garden, helped a cute boy, got yelled at by a cute boy, made an idiot of myself, and slept some more,” Sam answers absently, casually swinging the sharp knife around.\n\n“Ooh, what’s his name?” His father perks up, chuckling and kicking him in the leg. “You get his number?” the man teases.\n\nSam folds his arms indignantly, a tint of blush on his white furred cheeks. “Don’t need his number when he lives behind us.”\n\nA badge is pinned to the breast of the older dog reads Dr Eckhart. He brings a paw to his face and locks eyes with his son between the fingers. The colour drains from his own eager face and he replies, “You’re a worry.”\n\n“I mean you’re his doctor, you’d know if he’s gaaaaaay,” Sam continues, feigning naivety.\n\nHis father ponders for a moment, turning around to conceal his features. ‘[i]Is that breaching doctor patient? It could just be gossip. No, he told me as my patient. Though it wasn’t in the office. I could lose my license,[/i]’ he contemplates in silence. “Not as far as I know.”\n\n“In other words, ‘yes’,” Sam confidently chuckles, smiling from ear to ear. When his father remains stone-faced he starts to reconsider, squinting and peering into the brown eyes for any sign of confirmation. “Can’t you just help me? It’s hard enough finding another gay guy ‘round here dad,” he complains.\n\n“I am, his guardian is, his father is… was,” the doctor replies, questioning the proper choice of words. “If you want to gamble and get beaten up it’s your choice buddy.”\n\nSam resumes eating his dinner eyeing his father all the while. “Would you beat up his dad if he beat me up?” he asks after swallowing the final cut of meat and wiping his mouth with his arm.\n\nTyler cups his chin contemplatively while his paws smack the white tiles nervously. “Should I… you know?” he licks his lips and clamps his top teeth into the bottom.\n\nThe man collects the empty plates and stacks them in the sink, blasting the sauce off with hot water before letting them soak. The wolf starts to laugh as he swats his son’s head. “I’m sure the good doctor’s son would like that,” he says confidently. “Especially after how you treated him.”\n\nThe boy shies away, hiding his head beneath his arms on the table. “I wasn’t expecting him to jump a fence! Let alone help me,” Tyler replies, flustered.\n\n“As I said kiddo, not everyone is afraid of us. These big teeth are no match for their big hearts.” He pets his shoulder and makes tracks to the living room, tail sweeping across the floor. The television news repeats the day’s major events outside their insulated community; rape crises in the capital, another missing 14-year-old girl on the other side of the state, increasing violence against city officials across the entire country. Rather than continue sitting in the dimmed light of the dining room, Tyler follows and slouches beside his caretaker. “Keep on fighting the only people trying to keep you safe,” he remarks in disgust. Footage of a Siamese hurling a brick at a line of police with the tagline, ‘[i]Fighting for Freedom[/i]’.\n\nStill uneasy from the missing teenager report, Tyler shuffles closer to the comforting aura of his guardian. “Sebastian.” He squeezes the man’s arm, fixated on the screen. “You’re not about to get hurt, are you?” he asks fearfully.\n\nSebastian laughs and wraps an arm over the boy’s much slimmer frame, flexing his muscles. “Nah, those sissies would piss themselves if I were rolled out.” His voice oozes confidence along with the grin plastered across his muzzle. Sitting not far away in the duffel bag he brought home rests a Kevlar vest and an emblazoned uniform. Locked in a glass case inside the entertainment unit reside several medals and resting atop those a holstered M1911.\n\nPhotographs of Sebastian surrounded by a dozen fellow wolves, distinguished by the bandage and scarring across his nose and around his face, are arranged moving outward from the case. The two photographs adjacent to the case are distinctly different from the military paraphernalia. One displays the family he joined, taken when Tyler’s head was up to his father’s neck, with Sebastian and the man’s heads touching. On the other side the Tyler and Sebastian are alone together, both sporting much shaggier fur atop their heads.\n\nSebastian falls asleep during the following hours on the couch, a trail of drool down his chin. The remote is clutched in his paw resting on his crotch, the plastic scratched to hell from years of use. Tyler yawns as the late news starts, choosing now to turn the television off and make his way upstairs to rest on the massive king-size bed.\n\n#####\n\nAn early morning job draws Sam out of bed at five, the summer sun already beaming through his window and onto his naked form. His flaccid cock and balls hang between his thighs, covered in the same black and white patterned fur as the rest of his body. Sam pulls on a pair of blue biking shorts and a white t-shirt, foregoing underwear in favour of comfort. He passes his father’s locked door and snatches a banana out of the fruit bowl, chomping down through the top before eating his breakfast. The boy hurls the bundle of newspapers into the front basket of his bike, stretching his taut limbs before he mounts the seat. He snaps the twine holding it all together and begins to ride. Each newspaper is brought to the door despite the time he could save, preserving the beauty along his route.\n\nAfter an hour and a half of deliveries Sam reaches the final street. He works on the left side of the street first, looping back around along the right, counting each number purposefully and skipping the seventh. The remaining houses all get their newspapers before he returns to the two-storey home he had neglected. Sam dismounts his bicycle and looks at his watch. The sun has fully risen and his fur is matted from sweat as he approaches the last house with paper in hand. He raises his paw to knock but hesitates and slouches. Unsure if anyone would be awake he sighs and places it on the welcome mat.\n\n“You.” Sebastian stands in the doorway, finger drawn to the boy. The man holds a domineering presence and he beckons Sam towards him with a single digit. His intimidating morning face contrary to the friendly words which follow. “You do a good job.” Both are befuddled by the broken sentence and their expressions reflect it.\n\nHaving expected some harsh confrontation with the gruff wolf Sam stutters, “Thank you sir.” His voice wavers.\n\n“You’re welcome,” Sebastian replies, closing the door. “Oh, I’m retarded,” he groans. “Tyler’s gonna kill me.” The man pushes his way back outside and chases Sam down the driveway. “Please don’t. Er let. My stupidity.” He nervously spits out the words before he can process the sentence. Sebastian takes in a deep breath, relaxing and speaks clearer, “Don’t be afraid of my son because of me.” A smile breaks through his awkward expression.\n\nThe boy’s cheeks start to burn from embarrassment. He covers his black and white face and lets out a muffled squeak. “I wasn’t.” His eyes dart from side to side as he gets onto his bike slowly. “You have a good day, sir.” Sam waves goodbye and starts to pedal frantically down the street and back home. Bow-legged he stumbles through the front door, diving onto the couch with an exaggerated groan, “Daaaad.” He keeps his face buried in his paws.\n\n“I know, I know I’m gonna be late,” his father replies from the kitchen, his mouth full of cereal. With a wipe of his sleeve the man gets from his wooden chair and tosses everything into the sink. “Gonna be home a little late, meeting over in the city.” He kisses Sam on the forehead and hurries out the door, leaving his son blank faced and staring at the wall.\n\nWithout guidance from his father Sam rests back on the couch. Thoughts and scenarios play through as he tries to decipher his interactions with Sebastian, Tyler, and his father’s behaviour. Before he realizes it, midday sings its arrival through an alarm in the kitchen. Stuck to the fridge is a note and $50 from his father which reads, ‘[i]Finish up the garden. Buy some dinner and keep the rest. Love, Dad.[/i]’ Taking his sweaty t-shirt off after malting into it for six hours, Sam takes to the backyard and kneels beside the vegetable patch. The few weeds remaining are towards the centre where he can’t reach from his position outside the box, even while kneeling on the edges.\n\nThe trampoline crashes to the ground when he pulls it from its side, putting a dent in the soil from impact. “Do this do that, blah blah blah,” Tyler complains, carelessly unhooking each coil spring from the ruined rubber mat. His heart starts to thump causing a halt to his task. His brow furrows in frustration, a pain lurching from the pit of his stomach. “Why couldn’t I just die too?” he asks, staring into the blue sky above. “I miss you.” Tyler begins to sob and falls onto his ass.\n\nHead poking over the fence Sam’s expression morphs from excited to mortified as quickly as his neighbour had begun sobbing. His instincts cause him to intrude, “Please don’t cry.” He tries to embrace the wolf but is instead met with a sharp bite to the bicep. Adrenaline surges through him and his pupils dilate.\n\nTyler unhinges his jaw from his neighbour’s arm shouting, “Shit, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Looking around frantically the tears in his eyes come forth tenfold, and his entire body begins to tremble.\n\nBreathing shallow and heart pounding Sam falls in a panic, blood pumping out through the gashes each razor had left. “Dad, dad,” he pants, his eyes growing heavy until they close.\n\nApplying pressure to the wounds as instructed, the emergency operator asks him for his location. “55 Lindham Street. Please get here fast, h-his eyes aren’t opening,” he stutters. Tyler swallows the lump in his throat and begins unraveling a bandage around the unconscious fellow, hands growing steadier as he remembers his father’s numerous safety lectures. The knowledge originally passed on in case of a gunshot wound, now being applied to a dozen lacerations. “They’re all gonna kill me. Sebastian’s gonna throw me away.” Tyler loses his cool again, hands shaking as he ties the bandage on itself.\n\n“That’s not true,” the operator attempts to reassure him. “You said it was an accident, right?”\n\n“Yes. Yes, you’re right, it was an accident,” Tyler replies. “I didn’t even know I just did it.” He looks at his blood-soaked paws in disgust as Sam’s limp body is before him. “You’re really cute, you know that…?” he compliments the doll, hoping to get a reaction.\n\n####\n\nSam coughs as he finally wakes under the bright lights of his hospital bed. Accidentally putting pressure on the wound as he tries to sit up, a few drops of blood seep through the stitches and into the fresh white bandage. “Ah, ouch,” he says, flinching.\n\n“Hey buddy, you feeling okay now?” his father pets him on the left shoulder, having skipped out on the meeting and the rest of work to tend to him.\n\n“Dad… yeah,” Sam answers in a daze, laying back down until his eyes have adjusted again. “I tried to comfort him and…” he tries to explain but runs short of breath.\n\n“I know Sammy, he told me.” He points at the wolf on the opposite side of the bed, still covered in blood and tears.\n\n“I’m sorry,” Tyler repeats the same words a dozen times in shock. “I wasn’t. I just.” He continues speaking half sentences like a broken record.\n\nSam’s father reaches across and snaps his fingers to break him out of the daze. “Hey, he’s up. He’s going to be okay,” he says with a wave.\n\nReturning to reality and seeing the border collie’s eyes open, Tyler breathes a sigh of relief. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry!” he cries and leans over the bed.\n\nRecoiling on instinct Sam protects his injured arm with his left hand. “Don’t.” He fearfully shuffles closer to his father. “He’s vicious,” Sam declares.\n\nWith a swift knock to the back of the head, Sam jerks away from his guardian too. “You climbed the fence and were an intruder,” he scalds the boy. “Comforting or not, if he had done worse you’d still be in trouble.”\n\n“Please don’t hurt him Dr. Eckhart,” Tyler interjects. “He was just trying to be nice.”\n\n“Your father would be saying the same, he was an intruder therefore you have every right to defend yourself,” he replies coldly. “I meant Sebastian,” he tries to correct himself but is too late.\n\nThe biting nature of his father’s invocation wretches at the bloodied wolf’s heart. “He would. But dad would want me to make it up to him,” Tyler says as he touches the edge of the bed. “And I’d like to spend some time with you,” he nervously continues, gently grooming the matted fur beside where Sam had been shaved.\n\n“You said you thought I was cute…” Sam mumbles and sheepishly pulls the hospital blanket up to his eyes to hide his embarrassment.\n\nTyler gets out of the armchair and makes for the door, beet red and muttering nonsense. A nurse steps past into the room holding a clipboard and discharge forms. “Still working at your little office, Archie?” she asks.\n\nHaving left work early to tend to his son Sam’s father sits in a white and blue coat. “It’s much nicer company,” he remarks, scribbling his name and date. “Are the police involved already, or can we avoid dealing with them?” He crosses his right leg over his lap and passes off the paperwork.\n\n“You know the answer,” she replies gleefully.\n\n“What were you thinking?” Sebastian’s voice can be heard through the closed door. Squealing follows as Tyler’s ear is seized and the flesh is pinched between claw and paw, dragged back into the confines of the private room. “I am so sorry,” he offers an apology. “I will cover any medical—”\n\nArchibald stands from the poorly padded plastic chair, one paw raised defiantly. “First you can let go of Tyler.” Sebastian immediately obeys with a stunned look. A lone finger protrudes from Archibald’s paw. “Second, it was an accident,” he declares, glaring at the nurse standing between them.\n\n“I’ll see what I can do,” she becomes mousier and scurries out of the room.\n\nTaken aback by his father’s confidence Sam admires the tri-colour collie. “Come on buddy, we’re goin’ home,” Archibald says, encouraging him from beneath the thin hospital blanket. The four men evacuate the room quietly, neither parent breaking the awkward silence as they follow the same route out of the hospital.", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "A warm day in the quiet suburbs encourages the wolf out of his abode, home alone in the summers as his father works an hour away in the city. It’s a safe community, where doors are often left unlocked and trust blooms among the citizens; a borrowed cup of milk lifestyle. He leaps onto the trampoline and starts to jump up and down, getting higher with each bounce. As he performs a front-flip, a moment of mid-air panic occurs and his claws extend, shredding the rubber when he lands. A howl escaped when the hole engulfs him and he hits the grass with an “oomph”.

Another boy peeks over their shared back fence, covered in sand and dirt from working in his vegetable patch. The fence is made of wooden slats with smoothed down ends, and the horizontal beams which connect them together allow him to look over when he stands on them and subsequently climbs over. “Are you okay?” he asks, tipping the trampoline onto its side and approaching the clumsy wolf with a paw extended.

Through gritted teeth the boy responds, “I-I’ll be fine.” He graciously accepts the help of being pulled back to his feet, eyes watering as his tail remains limp and sharp pains surge through it. “Thank you,” he speaks softly while carefully making his way to the back steps.

“You’re Tyler, right?” the trespasser inquires, following the wounded pup inside.

Laying on his belly across the three-seated couch he rolls his eyes. “And let me guess you’re sorry?” he sarcastically answers, rubbing his head against one of the soft silken pillows.

“No, I’m Sam,” he jokes while making himself comfortable on the armrest beside the bare feet. The pink pads sport some spots of black from the rubber cut loose by his claws. “What time will your dad be home?” Sam asks.

Tyler kicks at his fellow canine and drives him off the side of the couch. Having grown accustomed to the sensitive tones surrounding him for so long, the confusion and relief of being treated so ordinarily warp into vitriol, “Soon so get out of my house now.”

“Okay,” he replies and with a snap and point of his fingers Sam signals his goodbye. Retracing his footsteps out the back door with a shrug, a look of realization dawns; the leverage used to climb over isn’t present this side of the fence. Standing there with a look of bemusement the boy walks to the back-end of the house and with a running start, leaps at the fence. Sam scrambles and lands head over heels on the grass, looking around nervous and embarrassed by his less than graceful acrobatics. The boy resumes his holidaying duties, pulling weeds from the vegetable garden.

Idly watching television on the couch a scowl crosses Tyler’s face as the show fades out to an advertisement. The calming jingle encourages a set of bared fangs before he shuts off the television, his black nose twitching with rage. “Bunch of faggots,” he cusses.

The front door swings open and crashes against the wall behind it, his father stepping inside with a guilty look. “Crap crap crap,” he says, yanking the door to him to inspect where the handle impacted. “Phew.” His body relaxes, and he tosses a duffel bag to the left of the doorway. “Hey kiddo,” he says, tone shifting an octave higher when he walks towards the couch and conspicuously black TV. “You have a room you can watch porn in you know.” The man ruffles the black fur atop his son’s head, scratching behind the downed ears.

“Ha ha,” Tyler unenthusiastically laughs and bats away the courteous paw. “That fucking ad was on.”

The previous joviality fades quickly to a sombre tone upon realizing his mistake. He hangs the thin black blazer and green tie on hooks beside the door and scratches his head. Turning it back on, the jingle starts to trail off leaving the foundation name for a moment: Canine Cancer Council. “He’d want you to be happy.” He bites his lip to suppress the welling tears, leaning down and embracing the boy.

Nuzzling against the older man’s cheek, the grey fur mixes with his own black coating. The pair share few similarities beyond facial structure; Tyler’s eyes sapphire in contrast to the emeralds embedded in the grey man’s face. Through his own fur there are small streaks of brown, prominent most atop his head, another feature not shared by the elder. “Will it ever stop?”

“I’ll tell you when it does,” he answers and squeezes much tighter when tears burst forth.

####

“What’d you get up to today bud?”

Sam reclines in his chair and crosses one leg over the other. The bloody steak in front of him remains untouched beyond a few prods with the knife. “Slept, made lunch, fixed the garden, helped a cute boy, got yelled at by a cute boy, made an idiot of myself, and slept some more,” Sam answers absently, casually swinging the sharp knife around.

“Ooh, what’s his name?” His father perks up, chuckling and kicking him in the leg. “You get his number?” the man teases.

Sam folds his arms indignantly, a tint of blush on his white furred cheeks. “Don’t need his number when he lives behind us.”

A badge is pinned to the breast of the older dog reads Dr Eckhart. He brings a paw to his face and locks eyes with his son between the fingers. The colour drains from his own eager face and he replies, “You’re a worry.”

“I mean you’re his doctor, you’d know if he’s gaaaaaay,” Sam continues, feigning naivety.

His father ponders for a moment, turning around to conceal his features. ‘Is that breaching doctor patient? It could just be gossip. No, he told me as my patient. Though it wasn’t in the office. I could lose my license,’ he contemplates in silence. “Not as far as I know.”

“In other words, ‘yes’,” Sam confidently chuckles, smiling from ear to ear. When his father remains stone-faced he starts to reconsider, squinting and peering into the brown eyes for any sign of confirmation. “Can’t you just help me? It’s hard enough finding another gay guy ‘round here dad,” he complains.

“I am, his guardian is, his father is… was,” the doctor replies, questioning the proper choice of words. “If you want to gamble and get beaten up it’s your choice buddy.”

Sam resumes eating his dinner eyeing his father all the while. “Would you beat up his dad if he beat me up?” he asks after swallowing the final cut of meat and wiping his mouth with his arm.

Tyler cups his chin contemplatively while his paws smack the white tiles nervously. “Should I… you know?” he licks his lips and clamps his top teeth into the bottom.

The man collects the empty plates and stacks them in the sink, blasting the sauce off with hot water before letting them soak. The wolf starts to laugh as he swats his son’s head. “I’m sure the good doctor’s son would like that,” he says confidently. “Especially after how you treated him.”

The boy shies away, hiding his head beneath his arms on the table. “I wasn’t expecting him to jump a fence! Let alone help me,” Tyler replies, flustered.

“As I said kiddo, not everyone is afraid of us. These big teeth are no match for their big hearts.” He pets his shoulder and makes tracks to the living room, tail sweeping across the floor. The television news repeats the day’s major events outside their insulated community; rape crises in the capital, another missing 14-year-old girl on the other side of the state, increasing violence against city officials across the entire country. Rather than continue sitting in the dimmed light of the dining room, Tyler follows and slouches beside his caretaker. “Keep on fighting the only people trying to keep you safe,” he remarks in disgust. Footage of a Siamese hurling a brick at a line of police with the tagline, ‘Fighting for Freedom’.

Still uneasy from the missing teenager report, Tyler shuffles closer to the comforting aura of his guardian. “Sebastian.” He squeezes the man’s arm, fixated on the screen. “You’re not about to get hurt, are you?” he asks fearfully.

Sebastian laughs and wraps an arm over the boy’s much slimmer frame, flexing his muscles. “Nah, those sissies would piss themselves if I were rolled out.” His voice oozes confidence along with the grin plastered across his muzzle. Sitting not far away in the duffel bag he brought home rests a Kevlar vest and an emblazoned uniform. Locked in a glass case inside the entertainment unit reside several medals and resting atop those a holstered M1911.

Photographs of Sebastian surrounded by a dozen fellow wolves, distinguished by the bandage and scarring across his nose and around his face, are arranged moving outward from the case. The two photographs adjacent to the case are distinctly different from the military paraphernalia. One displays the family he joined, taken when Tyler’s head was up to his father’s neck, with Sebastian and the man’s heads touching. On the other side the Tyler and Sebastian are alone together, both sporting much shaggier fur atop their heads.

Sebastian falls asleep during the following hours on the couch, a trail of drool down his chin. The remote is clutched in his paw resting on his crotch, the plastic scratched to hell from years of use. Tyler yawns as the late news starts, choosing now to turn the television off and make his way upstairs to rest on the massive king-size bed.

#####

An early morning job draws Sam out of bed at five, the summer sun already beaming through his window and onto his naked form. His flaccid cock and balls hang between his thighs, covered in the same black and white patterned fur as the rest of his body. Sam pulls on a pair of blue biking shorts and a white t-shirt, foregoing underwear in favour of comfort. He passes his father’s locked door and snatches a banana out of the fruit bowl, chomping down through the top before eating his breakfast. The boy hurls the bundle of newspapers into the front basket of his bike, stretching his taut limbs before he mounts the seat. He snaps the twine holding it all together and begins to ride. Each newspaper is brought to the door despite the time he could save, preserving the beauty along his route.

After an hour and a half of deliveries Sam reaches the final street. He works on the left side of the street first, looping back around along the right, counting each number purposefully and skipping the seventh. The remaining houses all get their newspapers before he returns to the two-storey home he had neglected. Sam dismounts his bicycle and looks at his watch. The sun has fully risen and his fur is matted from sweat as he approaches the last house with paper in hand. He raises his paw to knock but hesitates and slouches. Unsure if anyone would be awake he sighs and places it on the welcome mat.

“You.” Sebastian stands in the doorway, finger drawn to the boy. The man holds a domineering presence and he beckons Sam towards him with a single digit. His intimidating morning face contrary to the friendly words which follow. “You do a good job.” Both are befuddled by the broken sentence and their expressions reflect it.

Having expected some harsh confrontation with the gruff wolf Sam stutters, “Thank you sir.” His voice wavers.

“You’re welcome,” Sebastian replies, closing the door. “Oh, I’m retarded,” he groans. “Tyler’s gonna kill me.” The man pushes his way back outside and chases Sam down the driveway. “Please don’t. Er let. My stupidity.” He nervously spits out the words before he can process the sentence. Sebastian takes in a deep breath, relaxing and speaks clearer, “Don’t be afraid of my son because of me.” A smile breaks through his awkward expression.

The boy’s cheeks start to burn from embarrassment. He covers his black and white face and lets out a muffled squeak. “I wasn’t.” His eyes dart from side to side as he gets onto his bike slowly. “You have a good day, sir.” Sam waves goodbye and starts to pedal frantically down the street and back home. Bow-legged he stumbles through the front door, diving onto the couch with an exaggerated groan, “Daaaad.” He keeps his face buried in his paws.

“I know, I know I’m gonna be late,” his father replies from the kitchen, his mouth full of cereal. With a wipe of his sleeve the man gets from his wooden chair and tosses everything into the sink. “Gonna be home a little late, meeting over in the city.” He kisses Sam on the forehead and hurries out the door, leaving his son blank faced and staring at the wall.

Without guidance from his father Sam rests back on the couch. Thoughts and scenarios play through as he tries to decipher his interactions with Sebastian, Tyler, and his father’s behaviour. Before he realizes it, midday sings its arrival through an alarm in the kitchen. Stuck to the fridge is a note and $50 from his father which reads, ‘Finish up the garden. Buy some dinner and keep the rest. Love, Dad.’ Taking his sweaty t-shirt off after malting into it for six hours, Sam takes to the backyard and kneels beside the vegetable patch. The few weeds remaining are towards the centre where he can’t reach from his position outside the box, even while kneeling on the edges.

The trampoline crashes to the ground when he pulls it from its side, putting a dent in the soil from impact. “Do this do that, blah blah blah,” Tyler complains, carelessly unhooking each coil spring from the ruined rubber mat. His heart starts to thump causing a halt to his task. His brow furrows in frustration, a pain lurching from the pit of his stomach. “Why couldn’t I just die too?” he asks, staring into the blue sky above. “I miss you.” Tyler begins to sob and falls onto his ass.

Head poking over the fence Sam’s expression morphs from excited to mortified as quickly as his neighbour had begun sobbing. His instincts cause him to intrude, “Please don’t cry.” He tries to embrace the wolf but is instead met with a sharp bite to the bicep. Adrenaline surges through him and his pupils dilate.

Tyler unhinges his jaw from his neighbour’s arm shouting, “Shit, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Looking around frantically the tears in his eyes come forth tenfold, and his entire body begins to tremble.

Breathing shallow and heart pounding Sam falls in a panic, blood pumping out through the gashes each razor had left. “Dad, dad,” he pants, his eyes growing heavy until they close.

Applying pressure to the wounds as instructed, the emergency operator asks him for his location. “55 Lindham Street. Please get here fast, h-his eyes aren’t opening,” he stutters. Tyler swallows the lump in his throat and begins unraveling a bandage around the unconscious fellow, hands growing steadier as he remembers his father’s numerous safety lectures. The knowledge originally passed on in case of a gunshot wound, now being applied to a dozen lacerations. “They’re all gonna kill me. Sebastian’s gonna throw me away.” Tyler loses his cool again, hands shaking as he ties the bandage on itself.

“That’s not true,” the operator attempts to reassure him. “You said it was an accident, right?”

“Yes. Yes, you’re right, it was an accident,” Tyler replies. “I didn’t even know I just did it.” He looks at his blood-soaked paws in disgust as Sam’s limp body is before him. “You’re really cute, you know that…?” he compliments the doll, hoping to get a reaction.

####

Sam coughs as he finally wakes under the bright lights of his hospital bed. Accidentally putting pressure on the wound as he tries to sit up, a few drops of blood seep through the stitches and into the fresh white bandage. “Ah, ouch,” he says, flinching.

“Hey buddy, you feeling okay now?” his father pets him on the left shoulder, having skipped out on the meeting and the rest of work to tend to him.

“Dad… yeah,” Sam answers in a daze, laying back down until his eyes have adjusted again. “I tried to comfort him and…” he tries to explain but runs short of breath.

“I know Sammy, he told me.” He points at the wolf on the opposite side of the bed, still covered in blood and tears.

“I’m sorry,” Tyler repeats the same words a dozen times in shock. “I wasn’t. I just.” He continues speaking half sentences like a broken record.

Sam’s father reaches across and snaps his fingers to break him out of the daze. “Hey, he’s up. He’s going to be okay,” he says with a wave.

Returning to reality and seeing the border collie’s eyes open, Tyler breathes a sigh of relief. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry!” he cries and leans over the bed.

Recoiling on instinct Sam protects his injured arm with his left hand. “Don’t.” He fearfully shuffles closer to his father. “He’s vicious,” Sam declares.

With a swift knock to the back of the head, Sam jerks away from his guardian too. “You climbed the fence and were an intruder,” he scalds the boy. “Comforting or not, if he had done worse you’d still be in trouble.”

“Please don’t hurt him Dr. Eckhart,” Tyler interjects. “He was just trying to be nice.”

“Your father would be saying the same, he was an intruder therefore you have every right to defend yourself,” he replies coldly. “I meant Sebastian,” he tries to correct himself but is too late.

The biting nature of his father’s invocation wretches at the bloodied wolf’s heart. “He would. But dad would want me to make it up to him,” Tyler says as he touches the edge of the bed. “And I’d like to spend some time with you,” he nervously continues, gently grooming the matted fur beside where Sam had been shaved.

“You said you thought I was cute…” Sam mumbles and sheepishly pulls the hospital blanket up to his eyes to hide his embarrassment.

Tyler gets out of the armchair and makes for the door, beet red and muttering nonsense. A nurse steps past into the room holding a clipboard and discharge forms. “Still working at your little office, Archie?” she asks.

Having left work early to tend to his son Sam’s father sits in a white and blue coat. “It’s much nicer company,” he remarks, scribbling his name and date. “Are the police involved already, or can we avoid dealing with them?” He crosses his right leg over his lap and passes off the paperwork.

“You know the answer,” she replies gleefully.

“What were you thinking?” Sebastian’s voice can be heard through the closed door. Squealing follows as Tyler’s ear is seized and the flesh is pinched between claw and paw, dragged back into the confines of the private room. “I am so sorry,” he offers an apology. “I will cover any medical—”

Archibald stands from the poorly padded plastic chair, one paw raised defiantly. “First you can let go of Tyler.” Sebastian immediately obeys with a stunned look. A lone finger protrudes from Archibald’s paw. “Second, it was an accident,” he declares, glaring at the nurse standing between them.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she becomes mousier and scurries out of the room.

Taken aback by his father’s confidence Sam admires the tri-colour collie. “Come on buddy, we’re goin’ home,” Archibald says, encouraging him from beneath the thin hospital blanket. The four men evacuate the room quietly, neither parent breaking the awkward silence as they follow the same route out of the hospital.", "pools_count": 1, "title": "Puppy Love", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "text/rtf", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "1", "rating_name": "Mature", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "2", "name": "Nudity", "description": "Nonsexual nudity exposing breasts or genitals (must not show arousal)", "rating_id": "1" }, { "content_tag_id": "3", "name": "Violence", "description": "Mild violence", "rating_id": "1" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "t", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "468" }