A New Friend

Dear Tim, my youthful friend and loyal companion,

You know of my many issues regarding depression and loneliness; not many are willing to associate with a deviant such as me. My small talk soon turns inappropriate and the few chances I have had to open up to someone have resulted in yet another acquaintance distancing himself from me. So I decided to befriend a member of the canine persuasion. Something that could relieve me of my current sorrow. Something that would love me unconditionally without judgement of my bizarre preferences and pursuits.

I decided to rescue a dog rather than purchase one from a breeder. Perhaps I could offer it a better life than it may have suffered previously. I went to my local shelter to choose a suitable mate. I walked down the aisle of caged dogs and saw many abandoned and forgotten souls. I surely could sympathize. There were a variety of breeds, with varying dispositions. Only one could return home with me however so I searched for one I thought would yield a lasting friendship.

I passed by the crate of a small golden retriever puppy with a wagging tail and playful demeanor. He jumped at the sight of me and pressed against the bars of his cage so that I might pet him. I was taken by this adorable little hound. Originally adopted by a wealthy young family, he was given away after chewing up an expensive pair of the homemaker mother’s heels. I did not begrudge him this though, he knew not what he did. Young dogs are wont to destroy whatever they get their little mouths on. I knew I could train him. All that was required was a little patience.

On the ride home my new friend was a bundle of energy. He so loved riding in the car he could hardly keep still. I nearly caused several accidents. Smiling with moist eyes I rolled down the window. Climbing up with his front paws he put his little head out into the breeze. Oh how he so endeared himself self to me.

After arriving home I showed him the bed and toys I had bought for him. It was not long before the little menace shredded the toys into strips of fabric skin and clumps of cotton innards. Figuring he must be hungry, I made him bowls of kibble and water. He eagerly gobbled and lapped it all up. I gazed on my beautiful new pet. “What shall I name you my new wondrous joy?” I asked myself. I delighted in the presence of my new playmate for hours. The time flew by and I noticed how late it was. It was long past my usual bedtime and I had work the next day. I took the puppy to his new bed and soon after went bed myself. Before drifting off I whispered, “Perhaps I will think of the perfect name tomorrow.”

Upon returning from work the next day I was incredibly famished and somnolent, but I was surprised to find my home completely intact. Not a spot was soiled. My dog had the good sense and conscience to not desecrate his new abode. I was proud of my precocious pet. I let him outside to do his business. He finished quickly and was soon scratching at the sliding door to be let in. I received him and then fed him. For my own dinner I had brought home a massive burrito as I was incredibly hungry. Work was quite busy and I had not eaten all day. So I shoved my meal into my gaping maw rapidly. I finished the dense fare in well under five minutes and crumpled up the foil wrapper. I immediately regretted not pacing myself. Fullness set in and drowsiness quickly took over. The battle against my drooping eyelids was a losing one. I succumbed to my torpor as my ball of foil rolled out of my hand onto the floor.

A terrible retching sound woke me from my slumber. Looking round I noticed the time. I had napped for nearly two hours! I went to dispose of the garbage that remained from my dinner but it was nowhere to be found. I was distracted from my search by that same retching sound. I decided to investigate its origin.

Stepping into my kitchen I noticed several pools of blood placed all over the floor. The sight caused a familiar feeling in my groin but it was soon outweighed by my concern for my little puppy for it was he who had caused the awful noise. He had vomited blood and was now covered in it. I went to soothe him but as I stooped nearer to the ground I noticed shiny bits and pieces among his chewed up chow on the floor. He had eaten the waste from my sumptuous meal! This was without a doubt the cause of my poor friend’s malady. Without further delay I called my vet and informed him of the situation.

“How long since he ate the aluminum foil?” he asked.

“I don’t know! It could be anywhere up to two hours!” I replied now in full tears.

“This is an emergency condition. How far are you from the office?”

“Over an hour away”

“If you wait that long I doubt your dog will make it. You have to induce vomiting. Try to get all the foil out at all costs. Then you can try and bring him in for treatment”

“At all costs…” I muttered, “I will do whatever it takes”

“Here’s what you need to…”

*Click*

I hung up the phone and turned back to my friend in need. There was no time to waste. He looked up at me clearly scared and confused. I was also but I had to be strong for both of us. I had to extricate the aluminum wrapper from my dog’s stomach. I kneeled down in a pool of bloody vomit and set to work. With one arm I cradled my dog’s head. With my free hand I opened the dog’s mouth. He easily submitted and allowed me to insert a finger to try and initiate his gag reflex. It was as though he understood my intentions and was putting his full trust in me. One finger was not triggering any gag reflex. I tried two. Nothing. Three. He vomited another small batch of brownish red bile. Clearly most of the foil was still in his system.

I searched my kitchen for an implement that would be suitable for vomit induction. Nothing had the correct dimensions to fit into his little mouth and still cause him to gag. I needed the proper length and girth. Then I got an idea. “No,” I said to myself, “I can’t do that to him. There has to be another way.” But I could think of no other way! I had already unzipped my pants and started rubbing the bloody vomit on my half-hard penis. I kneaded and the stroked my penis until it was a fully grown, beautiful erection. This was it. The perfect vomit-inducing instrument. I turned to my dog and looked into his frightened eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered into his furry little ear, “forgive me”

Again my puppy trustingly opened his mouth. I inserted my rock hard penis deep into his throat. Still no luck. Holding his ears for support, I rammed my rod as deep as I could over and over. I was determined. I was frantically thrusting, my whole body was shaking from exertion. The little guy let out muffled barks and grunts. At first my efforts seemed fruitless but I decided to plow on. Inevitably, an oft encountered sensation was rising in me. I tried to push the sensation out of my mind. “Please God don’t let me ejaculate into the mouth of this dying animal,” I pleaded to the heavens. I closed my eyes and thought of all things chaste. Upon opening my eyes I saw the blood on the floor and completely lost all control. I orgasmed and released a torrent of semen into my hapless puppy. I cursed my lack of self control.

My ejaculation was not for naught it seemed. The pup finally started making gagging sounds. I ceased my assault on his esophagus. After much heaving he finally vomited up his hazardous meal. Out of his mouth spewed my ejaculate followed by the rest of the foil ball and more blood. I had done it. We were in the clear. My little guy had narrowly escaped death. I cried and embraced him. We could go to the hospital to assess the damage.

I got up to get my keys and when I came back my puppy was on his side. I scrambled over to him. His breathing was slow and labored. I checked his pulse. It was fading. It was too late, Tim, my new friend was dying!

I cradled him in my arms as I wept for his short life. Oh my sweet pup! Mon petit chien! What a good boy! He had not yet even a name. He had been my responsibility and my negligence had caused him untold suffering and pain. If only I had been more aware, more careful. His last memory would be me, his trusted owner, getting myself off by pummeling his little doggie esophagus with my engorged penis. Better to have let him die than to have defiled him so!

Thus it has occurred to me, Tim, that I am not destined for friendship. This is my condition and my curse.

Artwork by basper01


Originally published at deartimtheblog.tumblr.com.

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