****** Fluke's Lament by Fetch ******
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Fluke's Lament


(c) 1999 Fetch-it Productions

Warning! Standard disclaimers apply! Don't you DARE read this story, you
naughty person you, if you aren't of legal age (whatever that may be wherever
you live). There is a special program built into this story that will determine
your age. Then, it will send the results to a huge database within the Social
Security Administration, cross-checking your date of birth. If you aren't
legal, you're in big trouble!

Oh, by the way, there are graphic descriptions of consenting sex between man
and beast herein. If you aren't mature enough to deal with it, please stop
reading now. (read above warning about the special program.. J)

***

Chapter 1

I groaned quietly as I got to my feet to stretch my legs. I checked for rug
burns on my knees and, finding none, started to make my way to the bathroom to
wash up. My faithful pup Fluke stood staring at me, a sated look in his eyes,
huffing slightly, tongue lolling. He looked as tired as I felt, and I smiled.
Patting him on the head and scratching him behind the ears, I stepped round him
and walked to the bathroom just down the hall. I was walking rather stiff-
legged, my ass cheeks clenched together as I sought to hold in the warm doggie
cum that was even now trickling down one leg. I stepped into the bathroom,
walked over to the shower stall and stepped in. Peeling off my t shirt I
surveyed myself for any damage that may have been caused by my enthusiastic
lover, bloody furrows from his dew-claws, or scratches of some sort. Finding
minimal damage, I turned on the hot water and bowed my head under the spray.
The hot water soothed away the ache in my shoulders from holding myself in an
awkward position while Fluke had his way, and I pried my ass cheeks apart to
allow the water to run in the crack, washing away the cum that was running
freely from my hole.

Fifteen minutes later I stepped from the stall, feeling gloriously new and
refreshed. Just outside the bathroom door lay my faithful hound and lover. I
knelt down, wincing as my knees cracked like pistol shots, and scratched him
behind the ears. He rolled over, exposing his belly and fantastic sheath and
balls. To say he was well endowed would be an understatement. I rubbed his
testicles gently and moved my fingers up over the hairy sheath. He groaned a
bit, and his hips thrust spasmodically, perhaps still a bit sensitive from
earlier in the evening. I tickled him a little chuckling as his legs kicked
repeatedly. I stood and made my way back to my office. I was still feeling a
bit weak in the knees from the powerful orgasm I'd had earlier, so I sat in my
chair, pulling myself up to my computer. I bumped the mouse to disengage the
screensaver, and quickly logged on to the net. My messaging program started uh-
oh-ing almost immediately, so I clicked the icon to see who was online. Two of
my zoo friends were visible, messages from both. I clicked the first message,
this one named Zetaboy. "Pull your pants up, you whore!" it said, good-
naturedly. I double clicked the other, this one from Stallion, which read,
"Fed-Ex Fluke to me, overnight air. I'll pay for shipping." I laughed out loud
at that and wrote both back, assuring the one I certainly was not just any
plain old whore, and to the other the fact that certain private couriers could
insure arrival the same day. I was pretty well known in zoo circles on the net
and had made a number of close friends who shared my fascination with our four
legged companions. I browsed through the newsgroups, Alt.Talk.Bestiality and
Alt.Sex.Bestiality, and finding little of interest, checked one of many of my
email accounts. You couldn't be too safe nowadays. I grinned widely. 21 email
messages awaited me, most likely due to the post I had written the previous day
in one of the private zoophilia message boards. I was searching for a certain
someone, and had to be very careful in my choice.

Maybe I should explain.

I'm dying. Slowly, but surely, the tumor in my brain is growing day by day,
shortening my life with each passing minute. Now, before you start getting all
weepy, or feeling that its imperative you extend your condolences, let me
assure you that I have come to grips with my fate. I don't like it, but there's
not much that can be done. The tumor is inoperable, resistant to drugs and
chemotherapy. I'm going to die, regardless of how much time or money I spend
searching for a cure. All my affairs were in order, save one. My companion
needed a home, but not just any home. One that only another zoo could provide.
Thus, the search for the perfect companion for my companion. It was a hard
decision, but one that had to be made.

When it was first determined that I had this condition, I was in shock. I
denied it. I was angry, I was depressed. I ran the gamut of textbook emotion
associated with a terminal illness. My doctors implored me to join a help
group, but I found solace in my pup. When I was depressed, he'd bring me back
up. He was there for me, more so than any other creature on earth ever had
been. That's why I had to find him the best home I possibly could. I had no
family to speak of, and even if they were a consideration, I doubted they could
provide the kind of special attention Fluke and I enjoyed together. After
resigning myself to fate, I began my search in earnest. My doctors sadly
informed me that I had less than 6 months to live, so I had little time to find
that special person.

It was a wonder that my dick worked as well as it did. Although I had always
been active with animals, my sex drive seemed to increase after finding out the
grim news. I was jacking off once or twice a day, and almost always had at
least one session with Fluke. I was insatiable.

I read through most of the emails, shaking my head sadly at the poor excuses
for human beings allowed access to computers. I deleted emails, one after
another. They basically all said the same thing:

"Sorry to hear about your condition... I would love to fuck your dog for
you..."

Letters of that ilk were deleted immediately. I had no time to waste on
simpletons that were just out looking to screw the pooch, for lack of a better
phrase. I started reading the final email, my finger hovering over the delete
key, and paused.

"Dear Mr. Fetch," I thought the "Mr." was a nice touch.

"I am a 27 year old self employed construction worker who would be honored to
talk to you regarding Fluke. I am a post-operative brain cancer survivor who
also happens to be a zoo. I got started in this lifestyle at the tender age of
16 and have been active on and off since then. I am an animal lover in every
sense of the word and would like the chance to speak to you in person..."

He went on to give me his home number and address, and even took the time to
attach a picture of himself to the email. My eyebrows shot up in appreciation
of his rugged good looks. Not a pretty-boy, by any means, but handsome in a
strong manly way. He complimented me on my stories, on my wisdom addressing
other members of the newsgroups, and advice I had doled out in response to
newbies' questions. Another nice touch. Flattery, not overdone, always got my
attention.

I sat back in my chair. Could he be the one? I sensed sincerity in his words, a
talent of mine reaped from years spent on the net, answering emails. I
cautioned myself to go slowly, and not to become too eager just yet.

I noted his user name, Tailwind. I had seen posts from him in the past on ATB
and remembered them as being well thought out and intelligent. To be sure, I
minimized the window of my mail browser, and pulled up my ATB/ASB archive
retrieval program. Over the years I had saved nearly 450megs worth of postings.
Opening the search feature, I entered the name Tailwind. I noted he had 37
posts over the past 6 months. The IP address matched that of his email, so I
was fairly certain I was dealing with the same guy. I scanned through the
topics of his posts. Against Fence Hopping. Down With Puppy Mills. Three
messages in response to a nice Christian lay that believed all zoo's should rot
in hell. His responses did not encourage argument, rather, bit by intelligent
bit he explained patiently why he felt the way he did, and that he would be
happy to go into more detail with her outside the newsgroup. Smart lad. I hated
flame emails. They wasted bandwidth and rarely accomplished anything positive.
He seemed a bit shaky on his stand about sterilization, but believed much as I
did that in most cases, animals should be spayed or neutered if they weren't
going to be used for breeding purposes. I could understand his hesitancy on
this issue. I was the same way when until I spent some time volunteering at a
local pound. When it came to domestic animals and mating, I felt the
responsibility fell back on the owners.

Fluke padded in and laid his big furry head on my naked lap, his cold nose
probing inquisitively into my groin. I jumped a little, then stood up, pushing
him back. "No time for that right now, lover." I said, scratching him on the
head. I asked him one of the questions he was always waiting to hear.

"Wanna go outside?"

He barked once in response. I walked with him to the door, getting my feet
stepped on and my ass probed with his cold wet nose more than once. I hooked
him up to his tie out and let him outside. He looked at me, then walked half
way out, just far enough so I couldn't shut the door.

"Out, Fluke." He walked down the steps. I watched him for a little while, my
little lover. He lifted a leg to pee, then ran to the end of his rope, barking
madly at a chattering squirrel.

A single tear rolled down my cheek.

Chapter II coming soon

Comments? Please email: rabidpup@hotmail.com Smartass comments? Please email:
president@whitehouse.gov