When Uncle Benson came back into the family, I remember my mom and dad being ecstatic, and they set right away to planning a welcome home party. I didn’t remember why he had left; really, I didn’t notice his absence. He was always quiet at family gatherings, and the parents never talked about him, so I suppose I hadn’t noticed that four years had passed since I last saw him. 


        I remembered him pretty well, all things considered. He was tall, like the rest of the men in our family, and he had a gentle, friendly smile, and had a distinctive scruff that always made him look disheveled, but in a handsome, friendly rogue type of way. He didn’t speak much, but he didn’t need to. He had a presence that, when he paid attention to you, you felt like you were special. Maybe that’s why everyone else missed him so much, but he never paid me no mind, so my young self didn’t pay him no mind. I guess he wasn’t interested in a nine year old cub much. Even at thirteen, I didn’t blame him much. I was a boring child.


        The party started out like any other family gathering, though with maybe a little more hugging and nostalgia. We kids played off on our own, with the oldest, who were around my age, staying inside with the games and the younger ones out back in the woods. The adults initially congregated around Uncle Benson, their prodigal son returned home, but eventually separated off into their own islands of conversation. That left Uncle Benson alone, sitting with a beer at the snack line. 


        I had been taking a break from the games and was working up the courage to talk to him - maybe I was worried he’d forgotten about me - when the front door opened, and a stranger walked in. 


        “Anyone seen my dog?”


        The adults fell silent, and the intruder looked around the room, eyes searching each person and daring them to come closer. He glanced right over me, finally focusing on Uncle Benson. Benson was looking down at his beer, ears flat against his skull. 


        “Ah! There we are!” The intruder flashed a toothy grin and walked towards Uncle Benson. “Benny! Who’s my good boy? I’ve been looking all over for you!” 


I can still see the scene clear in my mind, five years later. The family, silent and stunned. Uncle Benson, staring down at his beer, looking uncomfortable and conflicted. The intruder, a well-dressed jackal with one missing fang in his wide grin. He stopped in front of Uncle, and snapped his fingers. Uncle looked up, eyes dark, and that seemed to break the spell.


        “I think he’s had enough of you.” My Grandfather growled, stepping between Benson and the intruder. I’d never seen him look so large as he did then, what with his chest puffed out, flips curled, and arms crossed. A father protecting his vulnerable son. 


        The intruder just smiled, brushing Grandfather aside and kneeling in front of Benson. “Come on, boy. It’s time to go home.”


        Benson just looked up at the intruder unhappily, holding his beer close to his chest. The intruder whistled softly, making Benson’s ears perk. His tail began to wag, even as struggle became apparent on his normally soft features. I guess the intruder knew he’d won at that point, because he stood up and reached into his coat, pulling out a pink collar. 


        The family began to murmur, speaking against the intruder, begging Benson to stay, but all those indistinct words were washed out by what I heard the intruder say. “Boy! Heel!”


        Benson fell to his knees, looking at the ground in shame, and barked weakly as he crawled to the intruder’s heels. He sat on all fours like a feral mutt, ears drooping. The family’s protests grew louder, but I could only watch as that pink collar clicked around Benson’s neck.


        The intruder attached a leash to the collar and tugged on it, signalling for my uncle to get back up on all fours, and began to walk him out. Benson followed with a humiliated whine, but just before they got to the door, the intruder’s face lit up with a nasty idea.


        “Before we go, boy! Before we go, show your so-called family exactly how much of a dog you are.”


        The protest, which had been swelling until then, fell silent. Benson looked at the intruder with his eyes wide, not daring to vocalize his protest. The intruder simply tugged the leash, his eyes wide and his grin predatory. “Now.”


        Whimpering, Uncle Benson lifted his ass into the air and grunted. I didn’t understand at first, not until I saw a wet spot appear between his legs and travel down his pants, puddling into his shoes. His humiliation was thorough, but not complete; he tried to start walking away after he finished, but the intruder growled and Benson whimpered in response, lifting his ass into the air again and pushing. 


We could hear the crackle of shit filling his jeans before we could smell it, and soon after we could see the dark brown bulge form and ooze down his taint. It settled around his crotch, and a few of the weaker-willed women in the family gagged. There must have been nine or ten good logs built up in there, because it took Benson a good few minutes to empty himself, and the bulge in his jeans was massive. I could see a little bit pushing up his back. 


Finally he was allowed to lower his ass. I could see the shame in his eyes, the complete degradation, and I could see the bulge between his legs; it wasn’t the shit, but Benson pitching a tent in front of everyone. 


The intruder nodded and tugged Benson’s collar for him to follow. They had reached the door when someone spoke.


“Wait.”


That someone was me. I hadn’t meant to do it, but while Benson was crawling away, I had stepped forward and held my hand out. And asked the intruder to wait.


I could feel his eyes sizing me up as I slowly walked towards Uncle Benson. I think maybe I was too young, only thirteen, but I could feel him dismiss me as nothing and allow me to come close. Uncle Benson looked scared, like a mutt meeting a new person. He didn’t seem like the man who had been sitting there just minutes ago. 


I stopped in front of him, staring at him. Pants filled with filth, cock pressing against his jeans as he defiled himself in front of everyone. Eyes wild, yet submissive. I reached out my hand and softly rubbed his ears. He whined softly, leaning into it.


The intruder nodded, tugging at Benson’s collar for him to leave, but not before giving me another long look. He opened the door, and both of them walked out of my life. 


I was young then, he dismissed me. I don’t blame him, I was only thirteen. But as I graduate high school, as I get ready for college, somehow… I know he’ll be back for me.