"So, how much candy do you...aww, man, that's filled way more than mine!"

"Yeah, but yours weighs more. I think the rules say weight, not the amount. I could be wrong, though."

Nighttime, not the best of times for children to be out and about, especially without an adult.  It wasn't ten p.m. quite yet, but it was definitely getting close to it. The sun had set hours ago, and with how cloudy it was, no stars could be seen lighting the sky, and the moon barely showed itself. This made for some very eerie looking neighborhoods, especially those who's street lights weren't working properly. But if anything, that only added to the atmosphere in a perversely positive manner: it was halloween night, after all.

This was tradition for the pair of felines, one being a typical black cat, perhaps a panther, perhaps just a regular kitty. No one knew, no one cared. His costume was pretty basic: a black cape, some fake fangs for teeth, and gel'd head hair. Underneath the cape, he wore half of a suit, consisting of a button shirt, a tie, and a black jacket. Nothing from the waist down, not unusual for all of the furry ones who lived here. He tried his best to look like dracula, not an uncommon outfit. The other feline was a cheetah, and his outfit was even simpler: a cowboy's hat, a rag, and a matching belt with arming and legging strips. Like his panther buddy, this feline wore nothing else either, again, not uncommon for their culture. If anything, wearing clothing was like wearing a costume anyhow. Perfect for halloween!

Both of them were about the same height, just shy of four feet. Both of them were the same age, approximately eight, off by a few days in terms of who was born first: the panther. Both were boys. Lastly, both of them were competing for their neighborhood's annual Trick or Treat contest. Without going into too much detail, the contest was simple: whoever had the most candy by the end of the night won, and the contest went on until midnight. Unfair for how simple the contest rules were, as some of the older kids were allowed to branch out further and therefore find more houses to collect candy from, not to mention everyone almost always visited the same houses. It merely came down to how generous the home owners were feeling that night, or how charming the participants could be to try and earn more candy. The two boys had about two hours left, though they were pretty much done with their once a year routine, permitted only to walk so far considering they were young and this was only their second year going trick or treating without an accompanying elder. The spotty kitten, named Sam, was winning from the looks of it, or rather, the feel of it, seeing as his basket was noticeably heavier than the panther's, despite looking less full.

"Looks like you win this year!" said the panther, giving his friend a friendly punch on the shoulder.

"There's still at least ten houses left, you know," Sam countered, fumbling through his basket. He was moreso looking forward to eating his candy than winning some silly contest. He didn't even know if there were prizes to begin with. Maybe it'd be another medal, as if he needed more of those to hang up on his wall.

"Yeah, well, we'll see. I think the adults like your outfit more than they like mine. Dracula is overdone."

"And cowboys aren't? C'mon."

For the while, the two felines were sitting on a park bench, giving their sore foot paws a much needed break, also taking the time to go through their treasure trove, trading favorite candies, comparing quantities and weights, talking about the contest, and just general idling. As Sam said, the two of them didn't have very many houses left, yet they had two hours to spare, so time was plentiful.

"Well, let's just get this over with. My feet are starting to hurt," whined the panther, though his pride was hurting him more than his feet. It wasn't a serious contest, but he still wanted to win.

"You said it!" replied Sam, who's feet actually were hurting quite a bit. The two of them had been trick or treating for the past hour now.

And so the two of them were back on their feet again, heading towards the next and final neighborhood. Unlike the others, this one was well lit, making it much easier to see the decorations scattered about their yards. Some were plain, having a few jack'o'lanterns scattered about or orange lights, others went all out with graveyards and tombstones, or scarecrows and barnyard items. It was also a fairly rich neighborhood, each house large and having at least two stories, a number of garages, and large yards. They always hit this neighborhood last despite it being the closest to home, mostly because everyone else went to this street first.

Their first house visit didn't give either of them much. Instead of having a bag of mixed candies like most people did, this owner had little homemade pouches tied and glittered up; whatever was inside had to be a surprise, they were told. It looked neat, but since they were involved in a contest, neither of them, especially the panther, didn't care much for how special the treat may or may not have been. At least both of them got the exact same amount of candy, the panther thought, but it wasn't helping his case much. He wanted to win, after all. Then they moved onto the next house, its yard covered by a tall, barred fence and a gate that was left open. Had the house been any bigger, it probably could have been passed off as a manshion of sorts. It was the panther's favorite house to visit; it looked nice, and the owner always gave him lots of candy. Perhaps if he bribed, or showed of his kitty charm a bit more, he'd be able to catch up with Sam.

Sam, on the other hand, froze once they came across the property's gates. He stood still, curling his little tail around in front of himself, and hunching over slightly, looking as if he'd done something wrong and got caught. "Let's skip this one," he said quietly, softly, almost nervously. "I-I don't think he has candy this time around. I mean l-look, his porchlight is even off."

Indeed, the porchlight was off, but this wouldn't deter the panther. Not one bit. "Are you kiddin'? This guy always has a crap ton of the stuff! And good, expensive candy, too! Even if I don't win this stupid competition, this guy alone makes the traveling well worth it! C'mon, let's...oh...oh no, dang it!"

"What's wrong?"

"My teeth! Gah, I forgot to put them back on! They must still be on the bench." It was then that Sam noticed his friend was speaking more clearly now, and his teeth...well, they were his teeth.

"Oh well. Kitties have fangs, too," said Sam, shrugging his shoulders.

"Yeah, but they're not Dracula fangs! We need to go back for them."

"What? But that's all the way back at the park!"

"Then I'll go by myself and catch up!"

Sam blinked. One rule for being out without adults was that the two of them had to stick together no matter what. "But...our parents told us that-"

"They won't know. Just tell the guy that I'm at another house down the street, ok? I'll be back in a flash!"

And with that, the panther took off. "In a flash" was pushing it; the park was at least fifteen minutes away from there, closer to Sam's house than this neighborhood. He sighed as his friend left him there; he wasn't too concerned about getting in trouble, but getting in trouble was never a good thing. He looked back at the front door of the large house, wondering whether or not he should continue. His friend was right about one thing: this house owner made trick or treating worth it; his candy was always the best, and he always had a lot of it. The thing was, Sam wasn't particularly fond of this person. He didn't dislike him, but it was the kind of person he didn't like being around too often, like a detention teacher: they can be friendly teachers, but that doesn't change the fact that they're still a detention teacher. He swallowed slowly, untucking his tail and standing straight up again, and decided to go to the door. He rang the doorbell.

Nothing, at least not for the first few seconds. Sam put his ear to the door, hearing faint footsteps growing louder...and then they stopped. Moments later, he heard a familiar voice call out, "Just a minute!" His words were sing-songy, and then Sam heard fumbling from behind the door, like the man, or rather, the dog - Sam could never remember what breed he was - was moving furniture or fumbling through a box filled with...something. He couldn't tell. Whatever the sound was, he was up to something. Perhaps getting his candy ready. And then there was that familiar click of locks unlocking, knobs turning, and the creaking sound as the door slowly swung open.

Sam held out his basket, giving the best, most adorable smile he could, and said, "Trick or trea- whaaaa, mr. doggy, whyyyy..." Or at least, he tried saying "Trick or Treat!" But he cut himself off near the end, cowering back slightly. His body leaned backwards, his arms hugged to his chest, and his tail shot up, fur standing on its end like someone had just tried to scare him. From what Sam was seeing, he might as well have been scared.

"Well, hello there, Sam! Or should I say, 'owdy dar, Samuel!" the canine said, stepping forward to poke his head out. He looked about, apparently seeing if anyone else was around, and then stepped back into his house again, hands balled into fists and resting on his sides. The canine was a great dane, droopy face that complimented his chubby, stout stature. He wasn't fat, but he wasn't exactly thin, either. He was fairly large, mostly because he was both big and tall, grey fur trimmed short. The most prominent feature about him was something that little Sam shouldn't have seen: shortened sheath. Yes, this canine was butt naked, literally, since he was wearing a t-shirt that couldn't fit around his belly, and nothing else; and yes, his sheath was shorter than average for a canine, much, much shorter, almost as if he didn't have a sheath at all. It left more to be desired down south in terms of covering himself up, as his limp penis hung freely between his slightly parted legs, slowly dangling back and forth. 

Being mostly naked, once again, wasn't uncommon, but for the mammals who weren't particularly fuzzy - Sam, for instance, covered himself with fur, making it hard to see anything between his legs, though looking hard enough would show off his little cat sheath - were naturally expected to cover up with a pair of shorts or pants. This great dane apparently decided not to. Sam's eyes shifted back and forth nervously, eyes catching a glimps of a pair of pants hanging over a nearby sofa...that would explain the fumbling, thought the cheetah. The canid was removing his pants. Of course.

"Here all by yourself? I thought you were supposed to be buddied up, Sam," he said teasingly, though his voice was stern regardless.

Sam was in a nervous fit. He couldn't form a coherent sentence without stuttering, saying, "M-my friend l-l-left something back i-in the park and-and-and I-"

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head, Sammy. I won't tell on ya, because you're a good little kitty and never tell on me. Right? Right?" Now he did sound a bit more serious, though there was a twinge of nervousness behind his words. Sam didn't notice it, however.

"Mr d-doggy, you said y-you wouldn't d-do that th-th-this Hallow-w-ween..." By now, Sam was finally able to move his legs, though not much, taking a very small baby step backwards.

"I did? Oh, well, I for...uhm...Trick or Treat! Yeah! This is my trick! So uh, lemme give you my treat." Now he was grinning. It only made the feline even more nervous.

"N-no! N-no thanks, mr. doggy, you can j-just give me the c-c-candy, and I'll b-be on my w-w-wa-"

"Oh nonsense, come on in!" he interjected, reaching his hand out for the feline boy and grabbing the cheetah by his arm, garnering an adorable squeak. "I insist!"

Before Sam could protest, he was already tugged inside of the fine house, door quickly shut behind him. Contrary to how dark it was outside, the inside had plenty of lighting, mostly through lamps and nightlights plugged into the walls. For a loner, the canine sure kept a well cleaned, spacious home, high quality furniture and carpeting spread throughout the rooms, wood dusted and shined, rugs and floors vacuumed; this house was well kept, appearing to be designed for frequent guests. Whether or not he had guests often was beyond Sam, but that was the least of his concern right now. Without warning, he was gently shoved against the closed door, causing him to drop his bucket, spilling a good chunk of his candy. His tail remained lifted from having seen the canid half naked moments ago, now held up due to being pressed against the door, much to his dismay. The dog had already kneeled, still slightly taller than the feline by a few inches, and his free hand began to wander along places it shouldn't.

“You came just in time for this new goodie I've been working on,” he chuckled, fingers raking against Sam's fuzzy belly, scritching along his waistline just above his crotch. “You're going to be the lucky first one to try it!”

These were not play on words, either. The canine happened to be a potent confectioner, owning a very successful business in making and selling candies of all sorts. He was very generous with the children, perhaps for obvious reasons now, letting them all try some of his throwaway stuff for free. Sam was a special case for multiple reasons; the dog really liked the cheetah, and Sam...well, his parents had never taught him anything about modesty. There was hardly the need to. In fact, it wouldn't be strange if most of the other tykes in the neighborhood were unfamiliar with modesty as well, though not necessarily to the same degree as Sam. In Sam's case, the canine had little to worry about in terms of being caught so long as he was careful. His digits trailed boldly to the feline's groin, pinching a pair of fingers along his feline sheath through his crotch fur and massaging at it; oh, how the cheetah squirmed, legs clamping together, knees bucking slightly, hopping back and forth between footpaws.

“Mr. Doggy, I-I'm in the middle of a c-contest! I d-d-don't have time f-for thisssss...” he pleaded, constantly thumping his back and arms against the door. It was the only thing keeping him up on his feet at the moment.

“Oh, that silly contest that ends in two hours? You have plenty of time, don't you worry...buuuuut for your sake, I guess I'll be quick about it. My, you've grown since I last saw you!”

Indeed he had. The last Sam had seen the confectioner, at least up close and personal like this, was nearly half a year ago. The two of them were hardly around each other if at all, mostly because Sam made a conscious effort to make sure he didn't wind up alone with the pervert. He mentally bashed himself for going to this house alone; if he'd just waited for his friend to come back, he wouldn't be in this mess right now, he thought.

“W-well, my f-friend will be back soo-eeeey!”

Speaking was starting to seem pointless. Sam's incessant stuttering, unending writhing, and his increasing embarrassment was making speech harder than it needed to be. All of his fur stood on end now, feeling a pair of fingers slide across his lithe hips and linger around his under-tail. It wouldn't simply linger for long, however; his hips shot forward as he felt one of those fingers penetrate him, his tiny, mostly virgin pucker caving inward from the intrusion. By mostly virgin, Sam hadn't had any real intercourse with the dog...yet, but only because he was...

“Still too small. It feels nice to put it in here, you know? But it'd be better if I could get, you know, all of it?” said the canine, wriggling his finger inside of the cheetah as if to tickle him. Aside from fingers, tonguing, or 'pushing it in' only once, the canine had never actually taken Sam's virginity in a traditional sense, as much as he wanted to.

 Sam's sudden thrust forward he'd take as an invitation, lowering his canine muzzle down and planting a big, wet, tongue-involved kiss on Sam's crotch. “Nyah!” he wined, instinctively raising one of his legs, trying to push away the intruding dog's snout. “Cut it out!”

“Oh, right, right,” the dog ruffed, finally withdrawing. “Don't want to get carried away! Let's get down to business.”

Snatching the boy's hand, the canid lead Sam deeper into his house, namely up a set of stairs, down a small hallway past several rooms, and eventually into what had to be the master bedroom. Closing the door wasn't necessary, but he did anyhow; it made the dog feel less watched for some reason. As much as Sam hated being in this room, for good reason, he couldn't ignore that it looked nice. No, it looked cool. The great dane was a bit of a techno wiz, adorning his room with computer gadgets and electronics that made the cheetah feel like he was in a science fiction movie. All of this was apparently a hobby for the canine, including his own personally crafted gadgets that he used for...whatever he used them for, most of them set aside on what looked like his work bench. If there was anything to hate about the room, however, was that it felt like it was filled with mirrors. Everywhere Sam looked, he could see himself and the canine dragging him by the hand; both of them in several, several angles. There were quite a few flat screen panels mounted in various places; the walls, the computer desk, above the bed; it was almost impossible to look somewhere and not see one. Moreover, the room was rigged with at least a dozen cameras. Narcistic? No; this canine used his bedroom as a studio.

“I should mention that...well, you probably already know anyway, but I'm recording this!” he barked happily, short tail swishing with the same enthusiasm.

“What? Wh-what? No, no, no, not again!” the feline mewled, covering his flushed, almost red face with his free hand.

“Yes! These videos are like, so awesome! I think my favorite is that closeup of me sliding my...”

“Nyaaaaah, come ooooon, Mr. Doggy!” Sam cried, shaking his head as if not wanting to hear the rest of the sentence.

“Oh? Is someone eager? Hmm?”

“Wha-no, no, I just...”

“Here.”

Finally, something positive for the cheetah, Sam thought. The silver dog scampered over to a small chest situated on his work bench, grabbing something small from it, and bringing it back to the feline. When he presented it to Sam, the cheetah gawked at it for a moment. It looked like a regular piece of candy, like a chocolate covered smoore. But instead of questioning it, Sam looked up at the canine and asked, “Can I?” And when the dog nodded, Sam popped it into his mouth. He trusted the dog, oddly enough, since he'd always been given safe, not to mention incredibly tasty, sweets. He didn't have any reason to expect chlorophome, poison, or other nasties a stranger might feed to someone...mostly because Sam didn't realize the potential danger in just accepting edible gifts from a person like 'mr. Doggy.” He chewed slowly, wanting to savor the taste as much as he could; dark chocolate, not a fave, but not bad, either. It was milky, chewy, felt a bit buttery, and the sudden soft crunches made it feel nutty. Sam's hands went for his cheeks, face flaring up, though not out of embarrassment. Had he the vocabulary, the best way the cheetah would have been able to describe the taste was orgasmic.

“This is soooooo good,” he cooed, almost moaned, smiling softly. “What are you going to call it?”

“Haven't decided yet, actually. The one you ate is a prototype, after all. The others won't be like that one.”

“What's a prototype?”

“Eh, nothing. Glad you liked it!”

Sam thought he was done, but repeated swallows would tell him otherwise. He couldn't get it all to go down, or at least it felt like it, like popcorn kernal skins clinging to the back of his throat. He tried to clear his throat, but to no avail; his next logical choice was to stick his finger in his mouth and try to pick it off with his claws. He felt the little mumps that clung to his throat, but he couldn't pry them free.

“Something's stuck in my throat,” he mumbled, now sticking a second finger in.

“Really? So it worked, heh heh.” The canine reached over towards a lamp table that sat next to his bed. On it was a remote, which he picked up, pointing to his computer desk and pressing a button. A few screens suddenly flickered, apparently changing points of view. They were in stark contrast to the other screens, which showed different angles of the two mammals standing in the room. Instead, these newly switched screens showed pink, and a lot of it. Sam stared at the screens for a while, suddenly noticing something odd about them. He could see his fingers in all of the pinkness...wriggling, poking, clawing at what seemed to be the cameras...wait...

“Gah!” he screamed, almost freaking. “There are cameras in my mouth? How did they...did you...”

“Calm down, Sam. You'll be fine. I have this solution that will make them peel right off, and it'll be perfectly harmless.”

He whined again, voice crackling slightly like actual crying, though the cheetah was nowhere near tears, just frustrated. “Why would you do something like that? That's just...creepy!”

“I wanted to try...internal shots. Micro cameras with small lights; didn't think they'd work, but whaddaya know?”

“You wanted to film my mouth? For wha-”

Next Sam knew, he was shoved onto the side of the bed, back arched over the mattress, bent over backwards. The canine towered over the cheetah, their bodies too close for comfort, and their muzzles way too close for comfort. Sam's mouth felt violated, feeling the dog's wet, slippery tongue drill its way in unexpectedly. Both of the feline's hands immediately pushed against the great dane's face, trying desperately to push the canid off of him, not enjoying the abrupt kiss one bit. It was bad enough when his parents kissed him, but at least they didn't put their tongues in his mouth. Try as he might, Sam couldn't pry himself free, having to accept the intrusion for as long as the adult wanted, though it was short lived.

“It works!” yipped the great dane, having watched the monitors the entire time. He could see his tongue dancing about, digging into the boy's cheeks, shining his teeth, pushing down on his tongue, even poking the back of his throat. “And here I thought all of the fluids would mess with the vision; no worse than a camera in water!”

Sam was coughing and spitting at the same time, aggressively wiping his mouth with the back of his hands, tongue hung out in disgust. Irritated, he was just about ready to protest again, but his body was suddenly flung onto the bed. By god was that bed soft; despite his situation, the cheetah felt like he could take a nap on this that bed so easily, if he didn't have a hulking, fat dog sitting over him, his phallus's head poking Sam's chin. The cheetah's eyes shot open wide; he hadn't been this close to the canid's shlong in a very long time, having forgotten just how much bigger it was than his. Not that he was comparing sizes, Sam just wasn't used to seeing naked adults. Surprisingly, even to Sam, it was still limp. Whenever he saw it limp, it only happened once; the rest of the time, it'd almost always be hard. Limp as it may be, the bugger still gave a quick throb, making the feline turn his head to the side, giving him a much better view on his situation. The dog looked so much bigger up top; Sam could barely see past his large belly, and couldn't see at all past his legs, which were straddled on either side of the feline's chest. He tried to curl up into a fetal position, only to have his legs stopped by a pair of thick, juicy hips, as well as one wrist held down against the mattress and his forehead taken by another large hand. Sam had to close one of his eyes, as the great dane's thumb rested just above it, threatening to poke him.

“Mr. Doggy, I r-really should get going...m-my friend is probably b-b-back by now, and I shouldn't-”

“Then open up and get started! The sooner you finish, the sooner you get to leave!”

“But I d-didn't ask for any of this!”

The dog paused. Hearing the cheetah whine was one thing; it was cute, and it gave his drive a large boost. But there were times when he wasn't entirely sure if Sam was being serious or not, and the last thing he needed was the kid squealing on him. The threat of getting caught always, always lingered in the back of his head, and sprout to full fruition whenever the feline would show signs, no matter how subtle, of general discomfort or resistance.

“Alright then,” he sighed, trying to stay calm. The chill running down his spine made it difficult to relax. “If you really, really, really don't want me to do stuff, then just say so, and I'll let you go.”

“I want you to stop!” Sam replied quickly. “Now can I go? Please?”

It almost worked, but there were still some buttons to be pressed, so the canine put on the pressure. “You didn't look me in the eye, so I'll bet you're lying. You want this, c'mon, you know you do, it's fun!” He tried to sound playful, like all of this was just some sort of game. “Or if you don't, then look me in the eye and say so! Well?”

And...nothing. Sam kept his gaze averted. “That's what I thought,” the canine huffed, bucking forward to bat the head of his member against the cheetah's lip. Truth be told, Sam did want him to stop, but at the same time, he wasn't opposed to what the canid was doing to him. He didn't know any better for one, and two, more importantly than the first, he thought that making the dog upset would mean no more free, amazing candies. He squeezed his eyes shut, grumbling helplessly and then, ever so reluctantly, slowly opened his mouth. His breathes were heavy and fast, anticipating the large muscle invading his mouth...

And there it was. Warm, fleshy, soft, a bit slippery, like suckling on a squishy blow pop. Sam closed his mouth, but did nothing more, breathing harshly through his nostrils and trying his hardest not to clamp his jaws shut. Not only did he not want to hurt the canine, he didn't want to get hurt himself. There was a specific reason 'mr. Doggy' positioned his thumb over his eye the way he did; his hand would clench whenever he felt any sort of pain, and with the positioning of his thumb, it would inadvertently push against the Cheetah's eye, not enough to cause any real damage, but it still hurt a lot depending on how much he squeezed. That disgusting muscle began to twitch more prominently now, consistently reminding the cheetah that he had a cock in his mouth. Add in the inevitable pushing and pulling from the canine's bucking motions, and there was just no way Sam could pretend nothing was happening.

“Do something,” the great dane complained, wiggling his hips back and forth, thick buttcheeks brushing along the boy's chest and making him mewl abashedly. He tried his best to use his mouth, curling his lips inward over his teeth and giving the head a soft nip, even poking the appendage's sensitive, tiny slit with his brushy tongue, but it wouldn't last. Sam's mouth almost immediately went limp again, stimulating the penis only by the canine's motions. But moments later, an uncontrollable giggle would verberate throughout the feline's throat, giving the dog subtle vibrations along his member as well as a flaling tongue. Sam's giggles were muffled, of course, sounding more like high pitched groans, as the dog's tail, unbeknownst to adult, was tickling the Cheetah's tummy and inner thighs.

“Oh yeah...that's more like it,” said the great dane, slightly closing his eyes while getting a decent rythm going, his erection growing. The size of his limp rod increased dramatically, straightening into a stiffness that rivaled bones, inflating to at least twice its size with canine veins starting to pop out onto its surface, and that knot...it was huge. He had to be careful with it, as he once accidentally slipped it through the cheetah's fangs. It was most certainly not a comfortable experience, having to sit perfectly still and let his knot deflate, as once it popped in, it couldn't come out without getting cut or knocking out some teeth. That didn't stop the dog from moving faster, a bit harder, thrusts getting to be rather unorthodox, hips swinging back and forth at odd angles.

Tickled no more, or perhaps he was and just couldn't tell, Sam began to gag. This always happened, and he hated it. The canine's meat was just so big, always pushing his little feline tongue back, always poking the back of his throat, always making his cheeks spread slightly outward to accomodate for its size. He could still breath, yes, but everytime that tip would prod the back of his throat, Sam felt like he was choking. He tried in vain to plead with the dog, to ask him to slow down a bit, but he couldn't speak. On top of having such a full mouth that continuously locked his tongue, that knot which kept bumping into his nose and lips frequently plugged his mouth, making it neigh but impossible to say anything more than choking sounds and groans. The cheetah twisted and turned his body every which way he could, struggling in vain to get his head away from that phallus, to try and spit it out, but the great dane was simply too close, not pulling back far enough to completely remove his shaft. Like with the unwanted kiss from earlier, Sam had to cope with the rod spearing his young mouth.

But not for long. 'Mr. Doggy' shifted his hand upward, thumb no longer threatening the boy's eye, and clutched his fingers tightly around the cheetah's head hair. He'd reached his climax. The fluids...oh gods, the fluids, Sam thought. He knew it wasn't urine, but it didn't make him feel any better about having the spunk forced into his mouth. This great dane could shoot pretty hard, almost like spraying a mini garden hose against the back of his throat. He was choking before, but now Sam truely had a reason to gag, completely unable to breathe so long as the orgasm lasted. And with the canine's head pressed so firmly against the the cheetah's throat, it was literally the luck of the draw as to which way it went. Sometimes, it would splatter, shooting the gunky substance into the many pockets of his maw, whitening his teeth, pooling under his tongue, or coating his cheeks. Other times, it would splortch downward, guzzling into his throat so far down that his gag reflex forced him to swallow, each swallow making the feline shudder. Sometimes, his least favorite, the canine's semen somehow made its way up the cheetah's nasal cavity, causing him to leak the thick fluid out of his nostrils. It was far worse than spitting milk out of his nose.

Worse of all, no matter which way it went, the only way those fluids came out were through his nose, or through very small streaks that dripped down the side of his maw. That knot was shoved against the cheetah's muzzle, completely clogging it from the front. Any fluid that didn't pool out from the sides, shoot down into his belly, or leak from his nose, all lingered in his mouth, lying in wait like a mouthful of Scope. He didn't want to swallow, but he couldn't spit. At the same time, he didn't want to just leave the principally putrid substance – quite honestly, it didn't have a taste to the feline, but he hated its texture – swimming in his mouth, but again, he didn't want to swallow. Luckily for him, the canine eventually pulled out. Sam didn't even need to spit, plug removed from his mouth naturally releasing the majority of the fluids crammed in there. He coughed and gasped, almost wheezing for air, shuttering as the slippery substance continued to pool from his mouth and nose.

“Oh Sam,” the dog huffed, looking down at the child with glimmering eyes, a soft smile, and drooped shoulders, “you're my favorite, do you know that?”

Sam could only blush. He was such a bashful kitten. “C-can I go now? Ple-”

His speech interrupted once again, this time by a towel. The dog was a bit rough with the towel, but he wanted to make sure and get all of his spunk off of the feline's facials, his chin, his neck, and some of his chest. Sam expected the towel to go to the dog's shaft next, but he didn't, letting his cock glisten in the room's light, liquid pouring down its sides. “Can I please go?”

“We're not done yet, though! There's one more thing, Sam.” The dog nodded, giving an ear to ear grin. “It's time.”

“Time for me to go?” Now that he wasn't being held down anymore, Sam let himself up, already making his way off of the bed.

“No, silly. You had my little cocky,” little, he says, “up your little hiney before, and only for a few moments, but it was always...well, mostly dry. I think it's time you felt-”

“Whaaaaaaa, no! Nyah, mr. Doggy, no!” His face went completely red again. He already knew what the canine was getting at. “I d-don't have anymore t-t-time and...and besides, th-that stuff is s-so...so-so-so slimey!” The last word made the feline shudder again. All the while, the canine reached onto the lamp table again, picking up what looked to be a squirt bottle. “Just let me g-go already, y-you've had your fu-”

The cheetah would never be able to finish a sentence, it seemed. His words faltered into a gurgle, having a clear liquid squirted into his mouth, mostly against his throat. It made him choke and cough again, and in doing so, out came the micro cameras he was tricked into putting on earlier. He didn't notice yet, but he would later. Tossing the bottle aside, the dog sat along the side of the bed and took Sam by the arm, quickly spinning the resistant cheetah around. Sam tried desperately to pull away, bugged eyes starring at the oozing, slippery, twitching rod nestled in the canine's lap, struggling rashly as his body was quickly lifted.

“No!”

“Just once, Sammy, juuuuust once~”

“No! No, no, no, no, n-nyaaaaah!”

The sound made from the insertion was definitely no mere onomatopaeia. “Shorp” was quite literally the sound that came from the penetration. Sam's tail shot straight up again, body stiffening like a beanpole aside from his arched back, and boy did he writhe. The member was large, stretching his anus noticeably, but it wasn't a pain he couldn't endure. In fact, the supposed pain lasted for quite literally a split second, instantly dulled by the sensation that came afterwards: slime. It was warm, slippery, wet, and with the canine's cock twitch, holy cow did it tickle, and not in the same way that tickling one's neck or belly did to garner a laugh, but the icky tickling one felt from having a bug crawling on them. The feline instantly rose his hips, trying again to get away, only to have his waist caught by the dog's arm, tugging him back down a short ways to reinsert about half of his length before the knot. Both of them fell to their sides from the struggle, and though the great dane promised “just once,” he found himself slowly, very slowly, humping the feline, only partly for his own pleasure – his afterglow made the feeling mostly dull – and mostly for how much Sam seemed to hate it.

He even pressed his snout against the cheetah's ear and whispered harshly, “Sliiiiiiiiiimeeeeeeeeeeeey~” just to tease him further, and then he released his hold.

Thud. Sam hit the floor, not to hard, on his chest, still squealing silently and wriggling like something was crawling inside of him. He motioned to roll over, but the canine reached over the side of his bed and gave the cheetah's little tush a squeeze, quickly prodding his now wet ring with his middle digit.

“Stop eeeeeet!” he whined, wriggling his hips again as the canine's finger twisted and curled with faint squishing sounds, only to be countered by a potent wet pop when the feline rolled over and thus dislodged the dog's finger. Sam was quickly on his feet, standing about a yard away from the bed, hands on his hips and squirming legs hopping him in place. “Don't...doooo thaaaaaat – NYAAAAAH!”

The canine had the cheetah's arm again, pulling the boy back to him. “Shhhhhh!” he barked, covering the boy's mouth with the same towel from before. “Relax. You can go now, ok? You can go. But dry off a bit first...”

Sam snatched the towel, wiping his slippery tailhole very, very thoroughly, before tossing it aside and running out of the room. He hurried down the hallway, down the stairs, gathered his candy as quickly as possible, and stepped out of the house. After closing the door behind him, he stood against it, panting heavily with his mouth deeply agape, face still flustered from the ordeal. His tail couldn't stop moving; despite being dry again, he could shake the feeling of being invaded like that. The feeling continued to linger in his head, making him shiver madly...and then he jumped.

“AH!” he shouted, raising his hands defensively.

“Whoa, whoa, chill out! It's just me, Sam! Sheesh.” A familiar voice, a familiar face...Sam was glad to see his panther friend again. “Am I really that scary?”

“I, uh...no, you just startled me-” click. The door opened. “AH!”

“Oh, hey kids! I thought I heard someone at the door!” said another familiar voice: the canine. Sam quickly backed away, standing, no, hiding, behind his friend, who shrugged. This time around, the great dane was wearing pants along with his shirt. “Well? Aren't you going to say anything?”

The panther smiled, closing his eyes and grinning while holding his basket out while saying, “Trick or Treat!”

“D'aww, aren't you two just so sweet. Well here, I've got some goodies for the both of ya!” And he did, reaching towards his side and furnishing pitcher. “See? I made these today. I'm sure you'll like them!”

He poured candy out of the pitcher into the panther's basket; chocolate marshmallows, like the one Sam ate earlier, except these were wrapped and most likely didn't have micro cameras in them. He offered some to Sam, but the cheetah quickly shook his head.

“No? You sure, little cheetah? They're really good.”

“No thanks! I-I have plenty of...n-no thanks!” Sam retorted, still shaking his head as he spoke, avoiding eye contact with the pervert.

“What are you, crazy? This guy's candy is so good, you idiot! You don't want any? ...hey...can I have his portion, then?”

“Aren't you the greedy one?” the dog chuckled, but then he offered his pitcher. “Sure, have some more.” And more he poured, giving the panther two full helpings of his privately made sweets. “You two were the first tykes to drop by after I ran out of regular candy, so you got the special kind! None of the other kids have this stuff; consider yourself lucky!”

“Score!” the panther exclaimed with a pump fist.

“But keep that to yourself! Just say they're marshmallows or something. It's our little secret,” he whispered, though when he said secret, he emphasized the word with a harsher whisper, looking straight at Sam. “Tell no one, got it?”

Sam looked away, cheeks going a bit red again, letting his feline friend answer for him.

“Good boys!” said the dog, giving the panther a few pats on the head. “Now, off you go. It's getting pretty late!”

And off they went, after waving goodbye. After leaving the yard, the panther punched his friend's arm, snarling kiddishly at him. “Where the heck were you? I know it's a half hour walk to the park and back, but geez! It's been like an hour almost! I thought you might have gone back home; you could have got us in trouble!”

“You're the one who took off on your own! You should have stayed with me! You really, really should have stayed with me!” Sam shouted, unable to keep his eyes open. He formed pouty fists, shaking them before crossing his arms over his chest.

“...alright, geez, I'm sorry. I won't do it next year, ok? You just kinda had me worried buddy, that's all.” Seeming sincere, the panther wrapped his arm around Sam's shoulder, giving the feline a half hug as they continued to walk. “By the way, where's your hat?”

“My hat?” Sam looked up...it wasn't there. He could only assume it fell off somewhere inside of 'mr. doggy's' house. “Uh...it's lost. I don't want to go look for it; let's just finish the rest of the houses and go home. Uh, please?”

“Please? Well, sure, I guess. It's too bad you didn't want this candy; when the contest is over, I'll share some, 'k?”

“...k.”

“It's also too bad you didn't have your hat. I could have used it right then! Guh, I hate it when adults touch me like that.”

“...yeah, m-me too.” Sam looked away again, trying to conceal his burning cheeks again, though all it did was expose his whiskers.

“Dude, what's that on your cheek?”

Sam stopped. The towel didn't get everything, apparently. He instinctively cupped his hand onto his butt, making sure there was none left there, which there wasn't. He then whipped his cheek, reluctantly sniffed it, then wiped it off on his thigh. “Uh...I dunno.”

“Cream filling, maybe?”

“Nyah! Don't say that!”

“...you're acting weird, buddy. C'mon, I'll race ya to the next house!” And without hesitation, the panther took off in a dash, leaving the cheetah behind in his wake.

“Noooooo, don't leave me alone! Don't leave me alone!” he whined, hurrying his weakened legs as fast as he could to catch up. He had a feeling this wasn't going to be a halloween night he'd forget anytime soon. Or ever, for that matter.