Obligatory Content Warning: The following story contains VIOLENCE, the RAPE of a CUB.  If any of this offends you, DO NOT READ ON.  By reading beyond this point, you waive your right to be offended by my work, because YOU WERE WARNED!!!  For those of you who I haven't scared off... enjoy!

Author's note: This is a rough piece, both in content and quality.  I wrote it in about an hour.  It's a story I've wanted to write for a while, but have been putting off and putting off and putting off.  You see, Chuckie (from Summer Camp Adventures) is a very sensitive boy.  This is why.  It's not my best work, I'll admit, but it's the story I wanted to tell, and it was good to finally write SOMETHING.  Maybe I'll go back and give this a real edit job.  Maybe not.  We'll have to see.

The digital clock on the bedside table cast an eerie red glow in the small bedroom.  It advertised the time as 11:17pm.  The thought of the time made the little border collie in the bed tremble.  He knew that his father would be home soon, and what that would mean.  The crinkling under his pajamas offered no comfort.  His father had recently taken a much less liberal stance than his mother on bedwetting, and both the cub and his mother knew he'd be furious if he found out.  He just hoped that his mother would be able to hide them well enough to avoid detection.

The little cub cringed as he heard the front door open.  He rolled over and looked at the wall, shutting his eyes tight and cuddling his little rabbit plushie, hoping that maybe his father hadn't been drinking tonight, that he wouldn't find the diapers, that maybe for once, his father would simply come home and go to sleep.

"Denise, what the FUCK are these?!" came a gruff male voice from downstairs.  Despite his door being closed, Chuck could hear it clearly.  He recognized his father's voice, and instantly gathered two things: he was drunk, and he was ANGRY.

"That's none of your --" his mother began.  She stopped instantly, and Chuck cringed.

"Are you going to treat him like a fucking baby forever?!" the male roared.  "He's nine year's old, for Christ's sake!  He shouldn't be wetting the bed anymore!"

"Ralph, he's a very sensitive boy," Chuck's mother began.  A crash, accompanied by the familiar sound of his mother screaming, made the little cub jump.  He didn't know what his father had broken, but he knew it couldn't be good.

"Sensitive my ass!" the male cried.  "He needs to grow up sooner or later, and you're clearly not helping him, you worthless wench."

There was a brief pause, and then a dull thud.  Chuck curled up and whimpered softly.  He could already tell that this argument was going to end badly.

"You think you can hit me, you bitch?  Huh?!  Do you?!"

Chuck cringed as he heard the familiar sound of his father striking his mother, followed by a thud as she fell.

"Yeah, and you'll stay down if you know what's good for you."

The little cub struggled not to make too much noise, even as tears started rolling down his cheeks.  Maybe if he could feign sleep, he'd be spared his father's wrath.

Chuck would have no such luck.

The familiar creaking of the stairs sent chills down the little collie's spine.  He heard his father stumbling down the hall, and shut his eyes tight as he heard his bedroom door opening.

Before the pup knew what was happening, his blankets were gone, and his father had rolled him onto his back.  The cub whimpered as his precious plushie was pulled from his arms and tossed across the room.

"You better not be wearing those things," he growled as he tugged his son's pajama bottoms down.  Chuck winced as he felt his father's breath against his face.  The smell of alcohol was strong, nearly overpowering the young cub's senses.

  The adult's eyes turned to slits as he saw the padded undergarment.  "You are," he muttered.  "Ok... you want to be a baby?  I'll treat you like a baby."

Chuck looked up into his father's eyes as a feeling of impending doom washed over him, the coldness in those eyes compounding the chill of the bedroom air.  "Please, Daddy... don't..."

The pup yelped as his father slapped him hard across the cheek.  "Don't you dare talk back to me, you little sissy runt," he spat.  He roughly ripped the cub's pajamas from his body, and cast aside the torn garments, before proceding to tear off the then-soaked padded underjam from Chuck's body.  "Oh, now you're wetting yourself, eh?  I'll teach you to be a little baby."

Chuck's father lifted the quivering cub, and sat down on the bed, lying Chuck across his lap, belly down, his little rear up in the air.

"Daddy, please!  Don't!  I'll be a good boy!  I promise!"

"I!  Told!  You!  To!  Shut!  UP!" the older collie cried, punctuating each word with a sharp slap on the cub's exposed butt.

Chuck cried out in pain as his father began spanking him.  He wanted to run, to hide, to escape, but he knew that it was futile.  He knew that if he tried to get away, his father would catch him, and his punishment would be ten times worse, and so he lay across his father's lap, crying and screaming as he was ruthlessly spanked.

"You just don't know how to shut up, do you, you little cunt?" the older male barked.  "Well, I think I can cure that."

The little cub yelped as he was thrown back against the wall, his head slamming hard against it.  He shook his head to clear it, his vision blurred from the collision.  Before his head had cleared, he felt something hard, stiff, and wet poking at his mouth.

"If you bite this, I swear to God, I'll fucking kill you," he father growled.

Chuck tried to hold his lips shut, to prevent this object from entering his mouth.  His father would not have it.  He grabbed the cub's headfur and tugged hard, making the cub cry out in pain.  The adult took this opportunity to shove the rod into the cub's mouth.

Chuck gasped and gagged as he suddenly felt the thing hitting the back of his throat.  He looked around, dazed, and realized that he was staring into his father's crotch.  The cub had little time to register this, as his father started to fuck the cub's small muzzle, hitting the back of it with each thrust.

The little cub brought his paws up to his father's hips and pushed against him, struggling in vain to push his father back.  But the cub was in no position to push off a full grown male; his father didn't even seem to notice the pitiful resistance his son put up as he rutted his son's mouth.

"Mph... I think we found something that little mouth of yours is good at," the adult growled as he thrust his hard meat into Chuck's maw.  "You like this, don't you, you little bitch?"

Chuck merely whimpered, tears flowing freely down his cheeks as his father violated him.  He didn't know why his father was doing this, but he knew with all his heart that he wanted it to just end.  His jaw was already getting sore from being forced open so wide, and the feeling of his father's tip hitting the back of his throat made him want to vomit.  He wished he had Mr. Stuffy with him to comfort him.

With a sudden feral moan, Chuck's father began to spill his seed into his cub's mouth.  Chuck's eyes widened as he felt the hot, salty liquid flooding his muzzle, unable to escape as his father pushed him up against the wall.  He shut his eyes, choking on the thick liquid as some of it slid down his throat.  After what seemed an eternity, his father pulled out of his muzzle.

"Look what a mess you made," the adult panted, slapping the side of his son's muzzle with his spent cock.  "Lick it clean."

Chuck whimpered softly and obeyed, cringing as he licked more of the sticky fluid from his father's rod.  As soon as he finished, his father patted his head, almost lovingly.

"Now, get to sleep," the adult muttered, and stumbled out the door.

Chuck curled up on the floor where his father left him.  His whole body quaked.  He felt cold, used, violated, a thousand emotions all at once, many that he couldn't understand.  The sting of his tears was only matched by the ache in his jaw, and the little cub rested his head against the wall, hoping that he would wake up in the morning to find that this was all just a horrible dream.

But the nightmare was not over.  The cub's sensitive ears perked as he heard the sound of his mother coming upstairs.

"Denise?" his father said.  "What are you... where did you... don't you dare point that thing at me, you --"

The male's words were cut short as three loud pops shattered the stillness.  Chuck's eyes shot open, and he looked towards the door, still trembling violently.

The little cub heard the dull thunk of metal against wood.  Moments later, his mother stumbled into the room.  She had a large gash across her cheek, and was nursing her left shoulder.

"Mommy," the little cub whispered.

The female collie collapsed next to the bed, and tugged the trembling boy close.

"You're safe," she whispered.  "He won't hurt us ever again... quickly, get dressed, grab some clothes... we need to leave."

Chuck whimpered and nodded, slowly crawling to his closet.  He pulled out a few shirts, pulled one on, and shoved the others into his backpack before crawling to his dresser.  Here, he withdrew his favorite pairs of underwear, tugging one on and putting the rest away, before pulling out a pair of pants.

Once packed, he pulled his backpack on, and picked up his discarded rabbit plushie and hugged it.  "I love you, Mr. Stuffy," he whispered, and buried his muzzle in the plushie's soft fur for a moment.  After a brief cuddle with his plushie, he turned to look for his mother.  She was gone.

"Mommy?" Chuck called, tentatively stepping to the door.  "Where are you?"  He poked his head around the corner, looking around for his mother.

Just as he looked out, his mother emerged from the bedroom with a large suitcase.  She pulled the door shut behind her, and held out a paw to the little cub.  "Come on, dear... let's get moving."

Chuck whimpered softly and ran up to her, hugging her leg.  "Buh... what if Daddy..."

Chuck's mother sighed and picked up her son, hugging him tight.  "You let me worry about him," she whispered, and kissed his cheek before setting the boy down again.

The little cub sighed and took his mother's paw, silently following her as she led him downstairs, out the front door, and right to her car.  She threw her bag and his into the trunk, and buckled the cub into the back seat.

"I love you, Chuckie," she whispered, and kissed her son's cheek.

"I wuv you, too, Mommy," Chuck replied, falling in to the baby speech he so often reverted to in times of stress.

The female smiled weakly and gave the cub a quick kiss on his cheek before shutting the door and climbing in to the car.  "Try to sleep, little one," she whispered.  "We've got a long ride ahead of us.

Chuck sighed and nodded, staring out the window as the engine roared to life.  He rested his head against the door and shut his eyes.