Review #72

Dude Your Dog is Gay

Story by Jay Roberts

Review by Ray




This story is by Jay Roberts, it features a dog named BD who may or may not be gay, may or may not be female, may or may not be a furry, and may or may not be an actress from the twentieth century.


+++Under 18 not authorized...GO.  Over 18, stay dawg.

You’re getting nowhere near my dog.

Neal and I are like an old married couple, though we are both twenty.  We both room together in the third floor of a railroad flat and both work for Bruce Gutmiller.

Three things are introduced in the opening lines, and all three are either untrue or irrelevant. Neal and the protagonist aren’t like an old married couple at all, they are very clearly in their twenties. The railroad flat, well we’ll get to that soon. And Bruce? Just take a look.


Bruce is a story in himself.  He's the boss of the Extended Limousine Company.

THUS CONCLUDES THE INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT STORY OF BRUCE GUTMILLER. Seriously, that’s all the backstory he gets, the rest is physical description of him that doesn’t matter because we’ll never see him again anyways.

Bruce is about six foot six, with big shoulders, bright red hair and a handlebar moustache.  An imposing figure.

I don’t know about that; if you’re imposing with a handlebar mustache, it’s not because of the mustache.

Extended Limousine Company does just that.

Does just what? Extended limousine isn’t a verb, it’s not doing anything.

We take Cadillacs, Lincoln Town Cars, even Volvos and saw them through and add a middle section.

And this will be brought up after the first scene…

 

But to be fair, maybe Jay is just trying to set the tone with all of these details, that’s respectable. So, let’s see what kind of tone he’s setting.

When Bruce does his sales pitch, Neal and I, in the back room, roar with laughter, it sounds like penis enlargement.
"We take it and add as many inches and you want.  It'll end up longer and earn you money."

 

Well if he was going for the “providing a ridiculous and unnecessary amount of detail in order to tell a cheap dick joke” tone, the author nailed it.

There were four employees in the company, but Neal and I were the technicians, the other two cleaned up and did routine sanding etc.
I said that Neal and I were like an old married couple, not exactly, but because of the rare times that we had sex made it seem that way.

Because really, what else is there to being an old married couple than occasionally having sex? It has nothing to do with a connection or those bullshit emotions, it all comes down to screwing. Yeah, you know who thinks like that? A twenty year old.

How we ever hooked up is strange.  We are so unalike.

It’s not really bothersome until you notice it, but I just noticed it so allow me to share; Jay is putting two spaces after each period. Isn’t that a phase people are usually through with by the time they’re past elementary school?

Neal is a slob.  His wrinkled torn clothes are only the beginning. His area of the room is impassable, but Neal is always happy, except on that rare occasion that I get nuts and clean up his side.  "I hate it.  I can't find anything.  Don't do me any more favors."
Now, in spite of his unkempt look and his constant cursing, Neal is sexy.

Because of his unkempt look and his constant cursing, Neal is sexy. Get it right you tidy cuntknocker.

That's what first drew me to him.  Why he likes me is hard to figure.  I'm a Yale dropout, clean to the point of obsession, and bit up tight, except when it comes to sex.  I can really howl up a storm when the time is right.

 

So do it. Stop telling us what you’re like during sex and show us the sex. I would suggest giving us more subtle hints about what he’s like through nonsexual actions, but that’s way over this story’s head. But don’t feel too bad about that Jay, we read the title, we knew it was coming anyways.


Oh yes, the gay dog in the title.

Jay, you may now go back to feeling bad about yourself.

Well, about a week ago, I got up early, before work and went out in my shorts to get the paper. I'm one of those guys who sleeps in boxer shorts and has the deep belief that no neighbor sees me in them if I move fast.

If you recall, he lives on the third floor of a railroad flat. Now what are the odds that nobody will see him at some point in his journey?

I couldn't get the paper because a dog was sitting on it.

I have two problems with this scenario. One, if anything the dog ought to be chewing on the paper, not sitting on it. And two, what modern day twenty year old reads the paper? Yeah, he’s an uptight Yale dropout, but that doesn’t mean he’s not allowed on the internet.

A rusty colored, medium sized dog with the kind of fur that looks like it needs to be cleaned and pressed.  You know, sticking out and stuff.  He wagged his tail and, I swear, winked at me.
"What's your story dog?" I asked, not expecting an answer

If the dog starts talking I quit.

but he (it was a he with an oversized handy case for it.) Jangled his neck and caused a metal disc to rattle. I took a look, no help, it just had BD engraved on it. No address or telephone number.

But now how will he call the dog for a second date?

I sighed, feeling sorry for the dog,

Sorry? He’s sitting on a paper and wagging his tail, seems just fine to me.

but I had things to do.  I pulled the paper out from under him and he licked my hand as I did it, and started to walk back to the house, realizing that I had displayed my bare chest and feet to the neighbors.

Feet? Granted, it’s true, but why is that a main focus?

He followed me.
I tried to slip through the door but he slipped in with me and as I headed up stairs, his nails tap taped behind me.

And following porn logic, the protagonist is perfectly fine with the random dog entering his house.

The beast needed a manicure.
Back in the room I spied Neal, naked, spread eagle on his back, his red pubes glinting and his fat cock half hard laying on his hip.  A nice sight.  I reminded me that I was a little horny today and I might try to convince him to give me a benefit.

It reminded him that he was horny? That’s not exactly something you’re reminded of, either it’s happening or it isn’t. Besides, he’s half hard and spread eagle, something tells me he won’t need much convincing.

I wasn't the only male whose mouth watered at the sight of the well formed boy, BD noticed too and put his paws on the edge of the bed and pulled himself up and began to nuzzle Neal's stuff.

Neal needs to develop a better awareness of his surroundings.


Neal murmured happily and let his cock expand.

He let it. It didn’t happen automatically as a response to stimulus, instead he made a conscious effort to allow the erection to happen.

His murmured became a grunt as BD began to lick it soulfully like it was a salt lick.

Hey, salt licks aren’t for dogs! That completely killed the otherwise flawless mood.

At this point, Neal opened his eyes and looked down, expecting to see my Yale face looking up at him, my long tongue in the middle of a nice suck fest.

Neal can’t tell the difference between the protagonist and a dog. That either says some negative things about Neal or some impressive things about the protagonist.

Instead he let out a howl of fear as he spied a hairy stranger of non-human kind between his legs.

A hairy stranger of non-human kind, what a fantastically convoluted way of saying dog.

He pulled his legs up to his chest and shouted, "Get out of here. Scat!

Do not tempt Jay with scat.

Go home!"  To me he said, "Is this your filthy dog?"
"Not exactly.  He was delivered along with the newspaper."  The thinking about it, "Maybe he is paper trained."

You don’t know much about dogs, do you protagonist?

"Well there is one thing I know about his, "He's gay.  This dog is gay."

“The dog may be gay, “But I.  nbsp;Bet he would use quotes right.”

"Why you say that, Neal.  You made him gay by waving your stuff at him."

Maybe I’m old fashioned, but I don’t think dogs can be gay. Or straight for that matter, I think they simply don’t give a fuck.


"I did no such thing.  I was fast asleep." Then pointing to the dog who was slowly walking away, "Look, Look, he walks like a sissy gay."

Says the guy who would’ve been completely fine with it if another guy had been licking him.

Well, it was true.  BD walked or rather sashayed, his rump undulating. On the way he grabbed a lavender silk pillow that my mother had donated to our apartment.  He put it down in the corner and lay curled up on keeping one baleful eye on us.

The dog picked up a pillow and set it down somewhere more comfortable. Yeah. I take it back protagonist, it’s not your fault; it’s the author who doesn’t know about dogs.


"Look there," Neal said, He picked the lavender one."

What are you trying to say?


Somehow Neal decided that there was no use making a fuss.  He called the police

He didn’t want to make a fuss, so he called the police. How about just, I don’t know, letting the dog back outside?

and the dog shelter and reported the found dog. I guess he thought that the owner of BD would call any minute.
Meanwhile I fed BD. He turned out to be picky, wanting only the best human food and let us know that he required catsup for his hamburger.

 

Okay Jay, I’m going to put up two pictures, you tell me which one looks more like BD.

 

If you chose the second, and I’m just going to assume you did Jay, that’s not really a dog; it’s a furry. Now if the characters are just going along with it then that’s very courteous of them, but could you at least let the audience know what’s really happening?

Neal decided that BD stood for Bette Davis.

Why Bette Davis? Why not Bob Dylan, or Bo Derek, or Barney the Dinosaur? Why does it even have to be a famous name, why not Big Dog? It might not be creative, but it’s less random than Bette Davis.

"He walks into a room like Davis in her red dress in "Jezebel", so from now on we called him Davis,

Oh, of course, how could I forget the scene from the movie I’ve never watched featuring the actress I’ve barely heard of wearing the dress I don’t care about?

I warned Neal not to call him Bette.

Because That would be pushing it, that’s where the line is.

Well folks, a week went by and there was no owner claiming our prima donna.

But they called the shelter, isn’t it the shelter’s job to pick the dog up? Maybe they just got caught in traffic, I hear it gets pretty bad in nonsense land.

In some ways, he was cute and very smart, and a real drama queen.  He'd order us to pet him by barking until we did, then he's lift his head and almost cat purr.

Okay, my last dog actually kind of did that. You win this round Jay, but I’m far from giving up.

I told him, "You are enjoying this too much, it's almost obscene."
Neal groused, "We're stuck with this pansy dog.  Keep him out of the bedroom, he'd like to organize an orgy, I bet."

 


Things went along for a few more days, I got no friendly blow jobs from Neal as he was very inhibited by the dog.

“No I can’t suck your dick right now, this dog is way more interesting!”

Also there were no calls from the dog's owner.  We were getting used to having him around for laughs, finally, a peak event occurred.

End Part One

You’re not the boss of me, just for that we’re starting part one all over again.

+++Under 18 not authorized...GO.  Over 18, stay dawg.

Apparently dogs really do stay in this story whether they like it or not. Even though they called the police, it really does seem like BD was abducted.

Neal and I are like an old married couple, though we are both twenty.

“We’re like an old married couple, except we’re young and not married and don’t act at all like an old married couple.”

We both room together in the third floor of a railroad flat

“And everyone else living there is completely oblivious to us. Whether we’re getting the paper in our underwear or talking about why a dog is gay, it’s a safe bet that nobody else will give a single fuck.”

and both work for Bruce Gutmiller.

“Yes, the Bruce Gutmiller, the guy who had one line of dialogue.” Anyway, the point has been made, let’s get to part two.

When I came back to the digs I found a note from Neal.  Fuck, he writes sloppy too:

Looks like Neal and the narrator have something in common after all.

    Gary:
           I have to meet with a prof, something about missing
           my term paper.  I bluff it out and make him
           apologize to me.
           Neal

Oh look, the protagonist finally has a name. But anyways, is that supposed to be the peak event? How does that have anything to do with the dog?


That was his way.  He's in the wrong and he'll make you think you did something wrong.  I bet he ends up with an "A", especially if he adds a juicy blow job.

Well that escalated randomly.

I was really tired.  I stripped and lay down on my bed and in a few minutes, I didn't exactly fall asleep, but I was caught between sleep and wakefulness.  It's really a cheap drugless trip.

Finally, something in this story I can agree with.

I began to find that I was having really hot sexy thoughts playing around my flat screen brain TV.

 

It’s called your mind, use it for once.

A couple of remembered experiences came back in living color with super sharpness.  My ass lifted to give room to me expanding cock and at that moment a felt a wet tongue pass over my ass hole.

The writer won’t.

Wow,

He can’t.

what a dream,

Is he really?


almost like real.

 

Dreams ≠ Conflict

Dreams ≠ Resolution

Dreams ≠ Reason

Dreams ≠ Plot

Of course there are exceptions, but this is not one of them. Gary already has no moral problem with bestiality, and it’s already been established that he’s perpetually horny. Why can’t he make this decision himself? Why does it have to be a dream? I’ll tell you why, it’s because the author is a bitch. Jay, you’re not fooling anyone; if you want to write a story about bestiality be my fucking guest, but don’t try to act like it happened by mistake.

Wait, that was a real tongue.

 

I never believed that my sexual nature was so hardwired with my ass,

 

but there was no denying it, I was swinging off to the land of total sexual bliss.  Mentally I said,
"Thank you Neal."  He didn't answer,

 

Why would he, you said it mentally!

but one thing I know, he has always hinted that he wanted to fuck me

No, really? The blowjobs weren’t a strong enough clue.

and I usually got pretty annoyed with him when he said that.

Wait, he said it? That’s not a hint, that’s a blatant statement.

I had at least, but then I heard Bette Davis barking softly in my ear.

Hey /u/awkisopen, remember when you said dogs don’t bark quietly? According to Jay you were wrong.

I immediately recognized that the hold on my sides were hairy paws.

Care to explain what position they’re in Jay? You just implied that BD is mounting Gary, but in a way that BD is also able to lick Gary’s ass and bark softly into his ear. And to add to the confusion, it’s a position that leaves BD’s species completely ambiguous.

I should have shook him off and give him a wack on his gay fuzzy rump, but shit, it did feel good.

Well who could argue with that?


Suddenly something happened to BD, he yelped in annoyance and quit his exquisite licking.  In a minute, he was replaced by a blunt flesh awl, rubbing my pucker.

 

This is an awl, BD is now a carpenter. The plot thickens.

I heard his voice in my ear.  "You're a fucking bottom boy.  Who knew?"

That’s it, I quit my life.

 

Not wasting a second, he pushed his big cock head past my sphincter.  His big hands

 

Hands‽ Dammit, BD actually is a furry, it’s the only explanation.

were gripping my shoulders hard, almost painfully, but it felt right.  Technically, I guess, I was being raped.

 

I could have fought him off, but I guess I'm a bitch whore at heart and ass.

 

Somebody get this man a medal, that line was beautiful.


He was breathing, almost moaning into my ear.  That lent an unreal effect to the whole experience.

Because until this point your spontaneous adoption of a man in a fursuit has been completely rational.

I think I moaned along in close harmony with him and I heard him give a little giggle.  "Oh how you love this.  I'm goin' breed you good.

“Don’t break character BD, dogs can’t talk! You are killing the mood and ripping it into tiny little pieces!”

No more blow jobs for you.  You're going get smartly fucked every day."

What the hell does intelligence have to do with anything?


He was playing me like a violin,

I’d say he’s beating your ass like a drum. Que rimshot!

 

making fast short bursts of motion, then varying it with long thrusts that made my eyes water.  I loved it.  If he pulled out and quit, I think I'd kill him.  I needed his cock thrusting. It became my reason for living at this moment.

 

He pulled me over on my side and continued his fuck motions, but now he had
an accomplice.  Miss Davis got into the act.

 

What sort of substitution jutsu bullshitery is this? Who’s been fucking the protagonist, when did they switch, why is BD now declared female, and why should I care?

She didn't say it, but if she could, she would have said, "Fasten your seat belts, it's going to be a bumpy night."

Yeah, that’s what the magical talking dog would have said, why not.

She lay on the bit of bed left and began tonguing my stiff cock.  His barbed tongue made an exquisite tool to drive me nuts and propel me toward an orgasm.

 

Sorry to break it to you Jay, but dogs don’t have barbed tongues, you’re thinking of cats. I’m also willing to bet that the dick in your ass is doing a lot more for your orgasm than the tongue on your balls. And tonguing? It gets the meaning across, but damn is that a weird verb to use.

There we were, two men and one beast.  This could be the start of a new sitcom,

I would actually watch that, provided the script was written by somebody else.

Neal was grunting and growling like a mad bull, I was singing and crooning like a fool and Miss Davis was rubbing her red dog cock against my leg as her tongue was bringing me home.

Silly Gary, you are home!


The room was filled with sex sounds, me making high pitched grunts, Neal
warning of his approaching cum and our hairy friend making yipping sounds
as his red canine cock began to spit thin spooge over my leg.

At this point I’ve given up on saying anything about the dog, so congratulations on that one Jay.

It was hot and slimy and in a second my own cock began to spurt onto his big red tongue.  He slurped it all, as if it were the yummiest beef juice.  My ass hole was spasming as I shot and that hit Neal's cock as an added stimulous.

Wait, his cum hit Neal’s cock or his spasming ass did? Either way I’m confused.

I could feel him turn rigid as he entered the throes of his ejaculation.

There’s not writing well, and then there’s not understanding basic human anatomy. I’m no biologist, but Neal’s dick would have already been rigid long before this point.


Shit, this boi could could hose a load of sperm.

 

Jerk off all you want while you’re writing the first draft, but at least put your dick away on the final edit.

It filled my passage and began to leak out.  Ever trust Davis rushed to the rescue and licked my hole clean.
The dog, realizing that the show was over, yawned mightily and returned to his fag pillow. I swear he looked like he was smoking an imaginary cigarette.

At this point just give the dog a real cigarette, he’s earned it.


Neal gave my bottom a slap like he owned it.  Well, maybe he did, now.
"Neal, this isn't a one time thing is it?"

“Do dogs lick your cum filled asshole?”


"Gary, I know you'll be begging for more, and I'll oblige, if you promise not to touch or clean my side of the room"

It’s funny because, well, no it’s actually pretty fucking stupid.


"Sure.  I'll learn to love a sloppy roomie if he gives sloppy kisses.  What say?"

 

For the first time Neal put his puffy lips against mine and waited.  He didn't have to wait long.  I pressed his lips hard and then his cheeky tongue went into action.  I began to harden up and my ass hole twitched.

Nothing says romance like a twitching asshole.

When we separated, I said, "Neal, I feel a need for..."
"Sorry boi, you'll have to wait until tonight.  I have computer work to do."

 


I went over and sat on the floor near Davis.  He looked up at me as if to say, "I will, if he won't."

Show me that look. Show me that look on a dog and I’ll give you +450 internets.


I petted him and picked him up in my arms and hugged the hairy thing.  Neal
looked over at us.
"Don't get too carried away, girls, it's only three hours to fuck time."

“Girls? Bitch please, we’re fabulous.”

 

End of story

Wanna fuckin’ bet? That’s it, come on everybody, we’re going back to My Immortal to rereview every story we’ve ever looked at.

AN: Special fangz

On second thought, once was enough.